Two positive things happened yesterday.
First one: I discovered the new Insomnia Cookies place in The Central West End!!!!!
I never dreamt I’d eat another Insomnia Cookie after leaving Temple University. I feel like I shouldn’t even be eating an Insomnia Cookie post-college. Is this one of the seven deadly sins? I am in disbelief that this magical cookie bakery hath descended from that radiant, crescent-shaped cookie moon and now sitteth right across from Thai 202. Now all we need is an uber classy pie shop!
Second one: I salvaged my newest pet rat from my car’s dashboard!
“Say what?” you may ask.
Well, yeah. On Wednesday I impulse-bought two new pet rats for, as my brother calls it, my rat collection. Pinky, as I now address him, was not too pleased with my impulse-buying. He agreed with my mother, who said, “Well now you have to seal the deal with Deric, because no one else will want to date you now.” Anyway, as soon as I got home from the pet store and parked my car, I peeked into the poopy cardboard box to see my new lil cuties…and Pinky jumped out of the box like a possessed looney tune and scurried up the dashboard. Then he lived in my cold car for three and a half days, nibbling on apple slices and sipping from teacups. The neighbors across the street lent me their non-lethal critter trap; I placed it beneath the dashboard with a teacup of water and a cracker. And behold, Sunday morn came and grumpy little Pinky was in the critter trap…and had angrily knocked over the teacup. I can tell it will take a while for him to warm up to me, but I am just happy that he is safe and sound in a big cuddly rat pile. I named him Pinky because of his prominent pink nose, and because he appears to be insane.
Short Monday Manifesto:
I’ve been in a pissy mood thinking about the people in my past who have made me feel like shit and who took a big toll on my self-esteem. I am not letting anything like that happen to me again. So here’s what I have to say for myself:
I don’t need inconsequential people to validate how I feel about my body, my clothes, my face, my talents, my intelligence, or my personality.
To anyone who has been malicious and had a long-lasting stupid effect on me, fuck you. Fuck you, to the moon and back. I feel really wonderful about being able to genuinely say “fuck you” (at least, in writing) to those people. That’s a knee-jerk reaction from my soul. It means that, over the past few years, I have developed a certain degree of self-confidence, and that I validate myself as a woman for reasons that transcend how others talk to me or talk about me. I don’t need to dress up as a seductive animal for Halloween. I don’t need to think too much about how my boobs or butt look. I wear what makes me comfortable. I don’t need to worry about how I express my personality, so long as I don’t actually get into trouble. Something I learned about myself in college is that I won’t even deal with exceptionally selfish and superficial individuals. All my life, I have never wasted my time trying too hard to please people, and I value that in myself.
Happy Monday, everyone!