May 10th, 2005

good mris pic

Other bits and pieces

I meant to say thank you to all of you who have offered congratulations on my story sale. It does mean a lot to me to see positive notes on things like that, even though I don't go through and write "Thanks!" to each.

I'm discovering once again that I have an "other side" of angry and disappointed with a friend about a particular behavior. I come out the other side and then that's...well, not the end of it, per se; not the end of the friendship. I stop getting angry at the other person about the behavior we've discussed, and I just kind of mentally adjust accordingly, that the person is not to be counted on in that matter. And then on I go. This would be fine if it didn't seem to distress people later. And then I want to say, "Look, we talked about X, you agreed that you could see why I was bothered/inconvenienced/hurt/etc. by your doing X and that you would try not to do X any more, you continued to do X almost without pause, and now you're upset at me for having lowered expectations of your behavior as regards X? Why? What else was I supposed to do? Accept perpetual disappointment?"

It's not even that I don't believe people are sorry in situations like this. It's that being sorry seems to matter a whole lot less. If you keep stepping on my feet, it doesn't matter how sorry you are, I'm still not going to want to dance with you. Perhaps we can drink coffee or some other non-stompy activity.

Still, I like it much better than being angry. I'm not very good at angry. You wouldn't think it from the way I rant, but it's true. I just don't like being angry at people I care about, and one way or another I will generally find a way to stop.

I got free underwear today. Victoria's Secret has a promotional where they will send out coupons for free panties every so often, and with them $5 off some specific bra, and then they want to get you into the store and have you look at shiny pretty things and try them on. They want you to feel bad about walking out of there with their panties and all of your money. I don't feel bad at all, particularly as they carry extremely few bras in my size in their stores. The idiot sales clerk kept trying to get me to try on one of the $5 off bras in the wrong size. She was not disputing my size. She just wanted me to "try it on in some other size and see if you'd like it in your size." Ummmm...why? So that I can weep bitter tears at my inability to buy this bra? And who on earth can try on a functional garment -- because bras, as I'm sure many of you know, are not merely boob decor -- and decide whether they would like it in the wrong size? A big part of whether one likes a bra is whether it pinches, pokes, squeezes, welts, or otherwise mistreats the boobs in question! Which you can't tell from trying on the wrong size!

I have occasionally been able to tell from trying on the wrong size pants or skirt that there is no right size. (Usually this happens when the hips fit and the waist is huge. Trying on the next size down is not going to help this problem.) But I just don't see that this is going to happen with a bra -- and if they don't make it in my size anyway, I don't see why it would matter. And I've never been able to tell that something would fit by trying on the wrong size. Just that it wouldn't. I already know that because they don't make this bra in the right size.

Oh, yarg. Just: yarg.

Happily, I managed to get presents for Mother's Day (I know, but we're celebrating it late with my mom and grandma) and for a couple of May birthdays. Leaving me only...ummm...four May birthdays to shop for. Oh. Um. So in addition to "preparing to travel, traveling, and catching up after travel," my May will consist of "buying stuff for people." Well, could be worse, I suppose.

(no subject)

It is time to stop writing for the night when "wordless assurances" comes off one's fingers as "worldless asses" and then you have to squint at it to see what's wrong.

ETA: And one can't keep track of its pronouns for an entire sentence. Yarg.