Don't worry, be happy.

So, Raymond turned 30 and cut off all his gorgeous hair to donate.  I'm going to be turning 32 in a few days, and I'm going to be celebrating by spending the entire weekend skating. A 5+ mile parade Saturday, a joint practice Sunday, an open skate Sunday night (maybe), and a regular practice Monday- when the hell did I get all athleticized, anyway?  The mind boggles.

I couldn't be happier about that, by the way.  I'm glad that I figured out how to be selfish and put a physical activity that I love, and the company that comes with it, on one of the front burners. 

Beyond that whole "holy shit I'm a skater" thing, my most recent ponderings have been centering a lot around how worrying about situations doesn't really do anything to change the situations.  I know- I'm a slow learner.

I worry about what somebody thinks of me, what their opinion is.  If all I'm doing is worrying, I'm not doing anything positive to change their perceptions.  Their perceptions may not even be negative- but I don't know. I just know that I don't want them to be negative.  Fixating doesn't fix it.

I worry about whether an explanation offered can be taken at face value, or if it is a convenient lie made up to save face.  Worrying doesn't really give me any insight.  Only my intuition can, and even if it might be dumb I'm usually going to lean towards giving the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise... but once I've offered that, I do need to get better at putting it out of my head.  If I'm not going to do that then maybe I'm not listening to myself in the first place, right? Right. 


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An acquaintance I've only met a few times called me "weird" in passing recently, and it really gnawed at me.  That judgment was made based solely on Facebook pictures, and it stung- but why?  Let's face it, I have some hobbies that are effin' weird, especially if I'm judged on the basis of social media.  I skate derby.  I play dress-up and go to SCA events.  I've gone out in public dressed as a garden gnome for nothing that counts as a really good reason... and I'm fine with all that.  I have no problem calling myself weird, or strange, or oddball, but I definitely don't like the judgment being stated when somebody else does it- at least, when somebody else who isn't weird, too. And that's ok- it's a quirk I have. I'm gonna just own it and not worry about it. 

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My birthday gift to myself- getting an old, faded, kinda ugly tattoo with a lot of symbolism to me re-touched.  I absolutely love it- and no, I've not taken a picture of it yet, but I might when it is healed.  I feel much better, though, knowing that I've taken a few hours and a little money to invest in myself... so much better, in fact, that I plan on going back in a few weeks to get the other one that needs some attention worked on.

My other birthday gift to myself- making a conscious decision to worry much less.