cimorene

For all my agonising and wearing a hole in the mental carpet thinking in circles, my mood is ultimately more affected by how sunny it is and how much I follow routines than by anything that happens to me. Becoming a Buddhist monk with regulated hours on the internet would probably actually kill my anxiety and depression dead. I might get kind of bored and want to be making something sometimes, though.

I saw Dr. Who Looks Like A Less Funny-looking Steve Buscemi and he gave me a worksheet and some encouragement and a whole printout of information about cognitive-behavioral therapy. Also, I made a new lj layout and some slightly singed brownies with sugar hearts last night.

Although I'm aware that my misanthropy and general irritability with and antipathy towards people in general and to large masses of people in particular is a direct function of my level of social anxiety, and that in moments of calm I am Pollyannaishly filled with sweetness and jollity, I still can't nix the ingrained habit of decades of sublimation. It sure feels like dislike. And it does me no good to reject that emotion (alas). Even if I'm feeling all Pollyanna I'm still a natural introvert, with an aversion to interacting with people even if I'm feeling all charitable-like towards the unwashed masses. I don't need or want many attachments. So mock if something is ridiculous, judge if your faculties of judgment are prompted to draw a conclusion, acknowledge your aversions if you have them and practise practical and perfectly warranted avoidance. Why not?