The scab

I've always had a bad habit of picking scabs; it's one of the reasons I believe there's more than a little of the obsessive-compulsive in me.

Growing up on a farm in the country meant I was always getting bitten by something or other in the summer. Ticks are old hat to me; I remember finding five or six on me in one day. To say nothing of the things that bit and then disappeared. Then when I got older, there were shaving gashes. There's always something there to absent-mindedly scratch as I'm stepping into the shower.

The scabs are revolting, I know. When other people notice them, they gas, "What happened to your arm/leg/one of your two thousand body parts?" Usually I don't remember. My mom in particular wonders what's wrong with me when I do that.

I don't know why I do it. Maybe I'm fascinated with the blood, the pain. I don't know.

I pick scabs in my head, too. Maybe it's being a Taurus. Natalia tells me that I beat a dead horse like no one else she knows.

This also troubles Mom. When I used to bitch about Nathan and Hill, or later, my evil bitch roommate from hell, she'd end up screaming at me to let it go. The screaming never was very effective.

Maybe I don't want to let my scabs heal. I don't know why.

Me screw up big time

This morning, I slept through my alarm.

Then I tripped on the cat and spilled orange juice everywhere.

Then my students invoked the ten-minute rule and took off before I got there.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Announcement

Contrary to public belief, I am not as stupid as I look.

I don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.

All right...

Who wants to help me give Valentine's day the "fuck you" it so richly deserves sometime next week?

Daria in a tiara

A couple of weeks ago Jeff gave me a tiara at the Innovox party. I wore it to the Nerve party.

It was fun. I've always wanted a tiara, and people were intrigued.

Near the end of the evening, one girl said to me, "I wanted to hang out with you as soon as you walked in wearing that tiara. I said to myself, 'There is a girl who does not give two shits what anyone thinks of her.'"

There's something to be said for fakin' it till you make it.