27 June 2006

Shit. It's true.

Being the feminist that I am (which is not a very good one), I get really offended when I hear guys say "All women are crazy." First of all, guys have their own issues and should not be pointing fingers. Yeah, everyone's got their little quirks that may seem "crazy" in the eyes of others. But I've seen/heard/read about some truly crazy women and I've always prided myself on being able to compare myself and my friends with these freaks and say, "Not us." Or, not all of us, anyway.

However, I guess I've been in denial. I am crazy. It's all here in black and white in my four months of blogging. It's in my journal in various shades of ink and white. It's all up here in my wee brain. First of all, I hate myself after reading some of the things that I've written. I can't believe some of the mean things I've written (and thought) about some people in my life. Second of all, I can't believe that I could say one thing one day and a day or two later (or a month or two later, like ... today) and feel so completely different. Is it my own revisionist history? I don't think that's the case, because I was really feeling those things and I don't deny I felt that way. It's not like I've forgotten any of it. Maybe the way I feel today is just trumping those days for the time being.

Regardless, my already crapass week has gotten markedly worse, now that I've realized I'm a crazy bitch just like all the other crazy bitches.


Acknowledging the problem is the first step in recovery, though, right? Maybe I can do something about it -- mitigate or dilute the crazy. Make it cute, or charming ... maybe endearing? I can only hope.

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