![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
It's my birthday today. I turned 32. I have exactly nothing to show for it, by the way. Thirty-two years of... nada. (My Twitter feed tells me that The Pill turned 52 today.) This morning, festivities began when I made the mistake of telling my roomie's parents what I wanted for my birthday dinner tonight. I asked for Beef Stroganoff, because I happen to love it (I do not, however, love mushrooms). I then got a lengthy lecture on how there would be mushrooms in it, there would be lots of mushrooms in it, and mushrooms were one of the major flavor components in Stroganoff anyway! I got this lecture last time I asked for it, so you'd think I'd remember to just not ask, but I forgot.
... I have a thing about food, you see. I do not like people commenting to me about what I eat or don't eat, I don't like lectures, I just want to be left alone. I've had a weird relationship with food all my life, I've had people give me weird complexes about it growing up... and what's more, what I do or don't eat affects no one but me. I don't refuse to cook things for people, I don't insist they can't have things around me, I don't lecture, I don't scream. I leave you alone, you leave me alone, okay? Jesus...
And then, on the drive to campus, I got more complaining about how long the recipe took to make, how much effort was involved, all the onion chopping and meat cutting. And still more complaining about how such a heavily dairy based food would react with roomie's lactose intolerant mother. So, I feel great about the whole thing, really.
Then I went to class, same as always. Got my Psych exam back today and nearly cried because I got a B. My priorities are... a bit skewed. I don't know what's wrong with me in regard to grades. I covet A's. I bask in them. If there was some way to make a physical representation of all the A's I've made since I went back to school, I would gather them together and roll around in them like Scrooge McDuck with his money. It's that bad.
We discussed some psychological phenomenon in Psych (I can't remember what it's called) a few weeks ago about people who, if they don't get an A on an assignment, they might as well have gotten an F. That's me. I don't know why, but that's how it always feels. I actually do cry if I pull in a C.
The only pleasant thing I've experienced today is that I have a story building in my head. Not a roleplay story or fanfic. An actual, honest to god, original idea. This almost never happens to me, so I'm really excited about it. I'm also not going to tell anyone about it, because every time I do, someone manages to say something that discourages me from writing it at all and I end up back at square one. Less than square one. Square zero. It feels bad and I hate it, so I'm hiding this one. I want it to survive.
Tired now. Considering a nap.
... I have a thing about food, you see. I do not like people commenting to me about what I eat or don't eat, I don't like lectures, I just want to be left alone. I've had a weird relationship with food all my life, I've had people give me weird complexes about it growing up... and what's more, what I do or don't eat affects no one but me. I don't refuse to cook things for people, I don't insist they can't have things around me, I don't lecture, I don't scream. I leave you alone, you leave me alone, okay? Jesus...
And then, on the drive to campus, I got more complaining about how long the recipe took to make, how much effort was involved, all the onion chopping and meat cutting. And still more complaining about how such a heavily dairy based food would react with roomie's lactose intolerant mother. So, I feel great about the whole thing, really.
Then I went to class, same as always. Got my Psych exam back today and nearly cried because I got a B. My priorities are... a bit skewed. I don't know what's wrong with me in regard to grades. I covet A's. I bask in them. If there was some way to make a physical representation of all the A's I've made since I went back to school, I would gather them together and roll around in them like Scrooge McDuck with his money. It's that bad.
We discussed some psychological phenomenon in Psych (I can't remember what it's called) a few weeks ago about people who, if they don't get an A on an assignment, they might as well have gotten an F. That's me. I don't know why, but that's how it always feels. I actually do cry if I pull in a C.
The only pleasant thing I've experienced today is that I have a story building in my head. Not a roleplay story or fanfic. An actual, honest to god, original idea. This almost never happens to me, so I'm really excited about it. I'm also not going to tell anyone about it, because every time I do, someone manages to say something that discourages me from writing it at all and I end up back at square one. Less than square one. Square zero. It feels bad and I hate it, so I'm hiding this one. I want it to survive.
Tired now. Considering a nap.