|I googled "going away party" and obviously this was the only |
possible result I was willing to use. I mean, really, who doesn't
love them some emotive pop art? Nobody, that's who.
But it also got me thinking. Although I still have a handful of good friends in the Bay Area, it really is only that - a handful. Like number-of-fingers-not-counting-the-thumb handful. And I am going to have to do that terrifying, nerve-wracking thing of creating a social life for myself basically from scratch, and it's going to be hard, because honestly? I am kind of a hermit and a homebody. I'm building a giant magical museum at least in part so everyone will want to come visit ME. I'm bad at going out and meeting people I get easily fed up at parties. And when I'm feeling nervous, or out of my depth, or on the edges of things, well - I can be a pretty critical, judgmental person. You know, like I don't want those dumb kids for friends anyway, so there! That internal, automatic sneer is a habit I have been (slowly, laboriously) trying to break myself of for a while now. I realized this morning, after a night of drinking and letting the idea for this post
1) internet friendships
2) grudging respect for people who make me wildly stabby
Why do I have these things, and what are they doing to me? Well, let me see if I can explain...
|I'm sorry, this image is just too amazing not to use. Via |
1000 Things I Like (talk about narcissism. Sigh.) It's
real toilet paper! You can buy it!
This may not sound radical. But to me, it was MINDBLOWING.
|This book is so awesome and it turns out the |
authors are super helpful and approachable.
It's one of the reasons I'm going to California!
If you've ever thought of building your own
house, you should totally buy it.
|This might be the best third wheel image ever.|
Via We Throw Rocks At Cars
And this brings me to the other thing that's been teaching me some Valuable Life Lessons recently: people who make me stabby. "Stabby" is a term I have picked up from the book blogs I've been following. It is an awesome word and very expressive. (See, this is where the little toe cramps come in: oh god are they going to think I'm trying to be JUST LIKE THEM? Like the obnoxious girl in middle school who dresses just like the popular girls and totally fails at being cool? and then the second wave of oh god am I being too self-deprecating? Should I just play it cool? Am I ruining everything by admitting my uncertainty? at which point I start thinking HALP HALP A HEFFALUMP and then I calm the heck down.) So, here's the thing about the people who make me stabby. This whole internet presence thing is basically to slowly but surely begin to build some kind of momentum behind the Museum of Joy - to get the concept out, to interest folks, to begin to really dig in to what would make such a museum. And I'm not allowed to leave anyone out. If I'm going to build a museum about joy, it has to be for everybody. What kind of joyless, controlling, self-righteous pleasure fascist would make a museum about joy for some-people-only?
|La freakin' la la la. That's me, folks.|