A handy trick I use sometimes for reasserting dominance over my own healthy sense of perspective is to tell myself the story of my upsetting situation complete with all the most honest, embarrassing, and reluctant details. It's usually something like "you're in a bad mood because you hit yourself in the eye with some toothpaste and the feelings of your inner imaginary party dragon were recently hurt which was really probably an exaggeration on your part and then some man coldly told you he didn't want your swedish meatballs after you had gotten excited about coming home and making him swedish meatballs which was a stupid thing to get excited about in the first place. You gotta make your own meatball expectations of happiness, bitch!" and okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration, and they usually don't have domestic meatball morals, but you get the gist. It kinda resets my calibrations, even if I don't feel... you know, regular-better.
So anyway, today, I am in a bad mood because I thought about how I lost my mjoilnir 4 months ago and got sad about it, and I feel so unattractive these days, and because I was allergic to the brownie that served as both my only breakfast and lunch and my face turned bright red and splotchy, and because I'm really worried about work stuff. And even the worst of those things really aren't that bad.
In lighter news, I've had this blog about a year now. Wow, a year. I know that mostly this is a rambly, melancholy little thing, and I wanted it to be funny and insightful and have more pictures but my camera broke and golly I'm really having a weird couple years but I must be getting something out of it and I'm still in, okay?
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