I finally bought that desk lamp I've been "need"ing, and while it was tempting in it's irony to get the "get away green" clip-on one, I went with a ladybug with a lightbulb in it. I wasn't really all that keen on savoring the suckiness. And I saw a real ladybug today! It was on me! Because I'm special. Ok, so I'm being a dink. But ladybugs are cool, and it reminded me of my old, old house that was veritably infested with ladybugs. That was too cool for me. It's odd the things that remind you of things. Especially when you know without a doubt that the people around you have zero idea that when you pick the ladybug off yourself and let it take off from your fingers, you're thinking about how awesomely sweet ladybugs are. How happy seeing it made you. How you're wishing you could put it in your pocket and bring it home.
I yell about people not communicating at every opportunity. But most of the time, I'm part of the problem. I tell myself people wouldn't care what I'm thinking anyway, so why bother.. I lie, or misdirect.. or omit. Every once in a while I say an honest thing at the right time and it works out well. (Purely from a me standpoint, that is.) Most of the time, I regret it though. And that, in itself, is highly annoying. The thought that being open leads mostly to discomfort. Regret. Avoision.