“Nerves and butterflies are fine - they're a physical sign that you're mentally ready and eager. You have to get the butterflies to fly in formation, that's the trick.” ~Steve Bull
During brunch yesterday, I was called cynical. Or rather that my writing is quite cynical, which I will gladly admit that it is. I’m cynical and woefully pessimistic, especially at the present moment. Except that it’s all hitting me now. All of my grandeur notions and dreams and…bleh…fantasies of the next few weeks going smoothly, have been tossed out the window. Only to be replaced by dread and doom of apocalyptic proportions. I don’t need to hear that things will be fine and that it doesn’t really matter. Because it fucking does matter and it is a really big deal. I want to shake people when they forget or when they cast aside my personal feelings on something just to shrug it off as if I’m some crazy person who is continually blowing things out of proportion. While yes, that might very well be true, it doesn’t make how uneasy I’m feeling right now, any better. It doesn’t make me any less nervous or anxious or cause me to become a rational person, when lambasted for feeling this way. Why can’t I just be nervous and fretful in peace?
Now excuse me, I have some additional lamenting to do, but I will try to keep it to myself.
And you could always nominate me for a Hoagie if you have any interest in making me feel better. Ahem.