All day yesterday I wrestled with the whinefest I'd just written about the Social Networking clique and how 'none of the cool kids know I'm alive (sniff!),' and about how small and childish I felt inside when I thought about navigating the World Weird Web.
Embarrassingly pathetic. But like I said, I thought about it all dang day. Only this time I accompanied all the thinking with a bunch of doing, which was surprisingly effective.
The studio overhaul I'd begun in January has come to a frustrating stand-still, so in anger I pushed a bunch of boxes aside, set up my table, and hooked up the lights. I plugged in an old boom box. I set up an ancient TV. I realized afterwards that I had no idea where the box of paper was or the box of drawing utensils, and I was not about to start digging again.... So I said screw it, and decided to employ sketchbook paper and rescued pencils that I've found on my walks.
The setup is ugly. Nothing about it is inviting -- nothing! -- except perhaps the fact that there's a door to it that can be closed to reality (and if that's the only glint of silver I can find in the lining of this particular cloud, I'm going for it). So today I've unearthed an adjustable stool and a little taboret of sorts to safely support my coffee cup, and now I think I'm ready.
But my real point: All the while I was making these angry preparations I was far away in my head. And when it occurred to me that Facebook and the like make me feel as though I'm back in high school, I remember thinking: "Hmmmm. Knowing what you know now, if you could go back in time and talk to your high school self, Delayne, what helpful advice would you give her about this so-called In Crowd?" Easy-peasy. I'd tell her to ignore those bitches and just be herself.
Sounds like a plan.