And yes I am aware that that title makes me sound crazy and or possibly chemically imbalanced. But bare with me. For about the past 6 months my son has developed an attachment with a Minnie Mouse doll. I see no problem with a 5 year old embracing his nurturing side with a doll so I’ve decided to just let him be. I was curious what he liked so much about her that I asked him one day, thinking it would be that’s she’s nice to her friends, Or dresses up pretty. But no, he replied “her black feet”. Now what I’ve learned from psychology is that the more I make him feel ashamed or weird, or that it’s wrong, the more “taboo” it seems. This ultimately leads to fetishes. People like the forbidden. In example, there was a study to understand the suppression of thought where the participants were asked not to think of the white bears (which they then did obsessively). Our brains are like little kids. We want to test our limits. Making something “taboo” makes us think of it too much, giving it an importance it doesn’t deserve. When recovering, if you make it the worst thing to relapse, then you start to obsess until ultimately you do it. To admit you might relapse makes it not forbidden, so your brain is less interested.
I’m half Italian and so I’m going to use that as my excuse for my awful temper. But I’m trying to become a person. Im at a loss as to what do right now..my seething rage is swallowing me whole. Breathe, count to 10, count to a hundred million, bite my fist til I bleed.. What takes this awful feeling away so I can return to my non- homicidal self again?
I’m going to breathe and focus on something else. I’m going to do a picture of Krampus.. Which I only just learned of. December 5th is krampusnacht, when bad kids are hit with rusty chains by a demonic figure.
My sons dad made a comment the other day that our son was weird. I was about to protest this but then it dawned on me… My son is weird. He Hes 4 going 90. He’s a total hypochondriac and oddly morbid. Maybe he inherited it from my great grandfather, Big Daddy, a truly amazing person but who was always coated in iodine. My son has all kinds of quirks, like his relationship with food. He has to play with his gummy bears, lollipops or candies. He sniffs his hands after shaking hands with others (I won’t even lie, I thinks it’s hilarious. That’s what you get for shaking a four year olds hand). He loves everyone and never meets a stranger. The meanest lady at the store will even smile when he says hi to her. I’ve had to tell him to not touch strangers. He acts out all his favorite cartoons, very dramatically. He has a sense of humor which is something I don’t think you can teach. He does a decent gangster impression, which I don’t even know where he got it from.
But his weirdness makes him awesome. I wouldn’t change a thing about him. He’s perfect. He is all heart and is amazingly sweet, without any prompting or bribing. The world would be a better place if more people were weird.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Wronged Objects.”
Dear work desk,
its not you its me. You tell me I never spend time with you. I always give you excuses. the time I do spend with you is either distracted or angry. Well, the truth is I don’t think we’re right for each other anymore. The idea of us working and creating together was what drew me to you, but somehow we just don’t click. You want what you want and I just don’t feel the same. We’ve both changed, and I really think it’s time to just admit it’s over.
I think you should be the one to move out. I mean, the room was mine first.
I suppose I should start from when I had my epiphany. A friend of mine from highschool died in August from a brain clot. She was my age-32. It hit me hard… and it made me start to think…If I died right now would I be proud of the person that I was? and I wouldn’t be. I’ve always wanted to be a different person but did not have the guts. So I decided then and there to stop trying to please everyone and just go ahead and become that person that I would be proud of. I wanted to be someone who was confident in her abilities, someone not afraid to take criticrism, someone not afraid to love freely even if that wasn’t returned, not afraid to speak her mind. most of all not afraid to be happy.
But where to start? well Ive always been a somewhat ok artist, but I never really tried because I didn’t think I was good enough. but oh how i envied people who can create something that can evoke an emotion just by seeing it. I knew the only way to get good is to just do it, even if its bad because thats the only way to grow. And yeah a lot of my little doodles were awful. but i was teaching myself, finding out what worked and what didn’t. I’m nowhere near good, but I have a sense of pride in myself. So that’s a start