a wolf angel is not a good angel

I don’t usually read the Onion, but Clancy passed this gem on:

Noted therapist Eli Wasserbaum agreed. “Because they are so inherently inferior to regular people, many losers feel—quite correctly—that their lives are not worth living,” Wasserbaum said. “Nobody cares about them, they are alone, they can’t hold down a job, they have no money. Even their own families hate them. Life has passed them by. What’s the point in their even going on?”

According to the Stanford study, losers are five times more likely to suffer from negative sexual self-images than non-losers, usually because they are fat and ugly, and nobody in their right mind would ever want to date them. Further, negative feelings such as despair, self-loathing and hopelessness are three times as common among go-nowhere lowlife losers than among normal people who are not worthless as human beings.

The study also indicates that, because nobody would miss them if they died, losers are nine times as likely to attempt suicide as worthwhile people. “From the true loser’s point of view, the compulsion to inflict self-harm seems to be ‘the only way out.’ This is true,” Wyler-Hustad said. “Lord knows why they don’t just do us all a favor and blow their heads off once and for all. I know I would if I were a loser like that.”

But is there any hope for these losers? Can they get better? According to Stanford researchers, the answer is a resounding no.

It made me laugh, not wince in recognition! There seems to be hope.

The style of all white bedrooms, including especially all white sheets and all white duvets. Now, I’d say, oh, it’s just in magazines and stores, but I’ve seen it in real actual bedrooms that real actual women live in. Why? Do they have spare duvets for a week every month? I look forward to the style ending so I can buy myself a duvet cover.

I’ve been complaining about the weather for the past week, because I’m Canadian and it’s what we do when there is weather of some sort outside. (If it’s sunny and mild, we complain about just past or near future weather.)

But I look, and really it’s been warmer than -20 daily (almost), and on average, 22 days of January have lows below -20, and we’re pretty much normal. It’s not an exceptionally cold January — I’ve just been using my hood, no hat under it! I wear dollar store gloves, not dollar store gloves with thinsulate gloves or mittens on top of it!

I’d be complaining a lot less if I could just sit in front of the fireplace 24/7, though.

I am coming down with a cold, so I am taking the morning off. But mostly, I’m more stressed and unhappy than sick. But I finally checked my account balances (they’re just fine) and so that’s one thing less that I’ve been avoiding.

I have a few hours of relaxing this morning, I slept in a bit (hurray), then I’ll go out and work until 9:30 again.

Remember my dizziness? It never entirely went away, but it was irregular instead of all the time. It is coming back on all the time again. Bleh.

I don’t know why I even bother setting my alarm for [extra early hour] given that I invariably either sleep through it or hit snooze a zillion times thinking “well, I can do everything *later*, I want to sleep *now*”.

My oven is now heating up for the muffins. I want to leave in 30 minutes.

I have not yet gotten dressed, brushed my teeth, made coffee, made lunch, put together all the stuff I need for my day.

I have, however, checked my emails and read blogs.

As they tend to lead into weeks.

And next week is to be a particularly hellish week for me; I will be out of the house over 13 hours a day, leaving me almost no time for things like “relaxation” and “sleep”. And, sure, it’s just five days, and it’s group suffering (more fun than solo) but still. And my poor Tilda, all alone all day, and me either doing other stuff or sleeping the rest of the time. Sorry, baby — I know you hate that I am doing this, and I feel totally guilty about it. But you don’t *want* a companion. Except me.

So tonight I made a muffin batter which can apparently sit in the fridge for 10 days. It also makes 4 dozen muffins (something I should have twigged to when I noticed 4 eggs and over 7 cups of flour or oatmeal), so I’ll bring some for the group, and then I’ll just make them every morning as a “well, I have to ingest something other than caffeine during the day and nice to have a treat for breakfast” plan. Unless they’re terrible, in which case it’s “have to eat something and might as well get rid of these guys since they’re already made”.

The SPCA was eerily empty of animals today. I want to pretend that there was a huge number of adoptions last week. So I will pretend that indeed, suddenly people adopted all the cats and dogs. (I do not often look at the birds or small mammals.) I suspect another set of foster kittens is in my future.

I can’t decide if I feel worse going there or not going there.

That if the heat in my place is so low that my fingers hurt a bit from the cold and I feel weird tingling on my arms that I should think about turning up the heat.

Then I merrily laugh because laughing keeps me warmer and I am going to bed now anyhow, and I prefer to sleep if the air is a little cool. Plus, I lit a fire (which I am still sleeping in front of).

I sort of wish I could talk about this whole new thing I am doing. And of course part of me doesn’t — this is the part that tells a very few of my friends small details about it, and then tries to obfuscate the rest, and is trying to keep anyone else at all from knowing. Why? I wish I knew. My answer is mostly: I am crazy.

So, um, I am mostly liking it, and a lot a lot terrified (a lot!) and also incredibly incredibly busy, which, much as I am complaining about it (sleep, how I miss you) is also nicer than not being busy. Though it means I don’t see friends, I do end up spending all day with people, which is more than enough social interaction for me. I am also still going to the shelter, which is more and more depressing every time I go there.

I wonder sometimes if I’m busy and liking it because busy means I don’t have time to think about anything else. Then I realise hey, I’m too busy to worry about this shit. This is possibly a good thing for me.