This I already knew. The emotional, bottle-my-feelings part seems about right.
"But, firey?" I said to my friend. "I'm not firey! I hate conflict!"
To which my friend looked at me like I had just taken all my clothes off and danced around the room singing tribal worship songs. That is, she looked somewhat shocked and bemused.
To which I then remembered the conversation we had had about six hours earlier where I admited my tendency to pick fights with people I'd just met when I'd had too much to drink. Not in an unnecessarily, over-aggressive, throwing punches, get-hauled-out-of-the-pub-by-very-large-muscled-bouncers kind of way. But in an I'm-right-you're-wrong-let's-argue-instead-of-make-pointless-small-talk kind of way.
To which my friend then pointed out that the majority of my blog posts were related to times in my life when I was really pissed off and needed to channel my firey fury in a sarcastic, but socially-acceptable way.
To which I then felt very sheepish.
And like I didn't know myself at all.
Because she was pretty right (Not entirely, but mostly. She wasn't wrong, but she wasn't entirely right either. There's still a bit of room for me to be right also...) I looked back over my last couple of posts and all of them were courtesy of something that had tickled my scorpian tail and sent me on a stinging spree- not being able to rent a studio in Sydney because I am poor, the bin-bandit who got a bee in his bonet about my throwing my coffee cup in his trash and 7th Heaven's anti-sex clause. All of them a big fat gripe sesh. Just me, up on my scorpian soap box having a nice fat old rant.
So then I thought, maybe I am too firey for my own good? Maybe people don't want to hear about all the things that go wrong in my life or get me in a hot tizz? Maybe they want to hear about the good stuff too? The happy things that happen to me?
So...
Today I went for a walk. And I saw a puppy. And I decided that, no, the puppy was not cuter than Ryan Gosling.
Then I had breakfast with my best boy friend. (My best friend who is a boy. Not boyfriend. Note the space inbetween). And my breakfast was so delicious and the company so wonderful, I felt like I had floated up into the clouds and was bouncing around on their soft billowy white cotton ball-ness I believe clouds would possess if they weren't made out of air and moisture.
Then I went shopping. And I didn't buy anything because nothing fit me and the shop attendent looked like she'd just eaten sourcrout, but that was okay. Because when I looked in the mirror, I liked the person with the 'great personality' who looked back. And I'm sure the shop attendent only looked like she just eated sourcrout because her boyfriend broke up with her the night before and she tried to drown her problems in a few bottles of Passion Pop.
And then on the way home from the shops, I found a four-leaf clover, picked up a coin that was heads up, caught a Santa Claus whisker, made a wish and had it come true on the spot
Then the heavens opened up and the cosmic stars slapped me across the face and said, "You're a scorpio. Be the bitchin' blogger we intended you to be."
Well, if my horoscopes say so...
KH.
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