Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Symmetry

Symmetry isn't something I'm known for.

Sarcastic. Yep.

Sincere. Often.

Smart. Hells yes.

Symmetrical? No. I had two ovarian cysts at the same time, one on each ovary. One was pretty close to eight pounds. No, really. The other one was closer to the size of a chicken egg. The scar to remove them both is also asymmetrical.

Anyway, there's more to my asymmetry than just the ovary nonsense. Typical stuff associated with being a human. I don't care, mind you, or worry about it much. I just notice things from time to time, and forget them mostly in between. Here's the picture that prompted this inane post:

Hiya.  This is me wearing a, well, a necklace, basically.  I made it for my sister.  Yarn, velvet, old buttons  metal bits, two snaps, and love

My eyes are differently sized. Whoop-di-do. When the photo's as small as I've made it, you can't tell! The size is a bit accidental, and I believe if you click on it, it'll take you to the magically larger one over at myspace.

Anyway, my point, if I have one, is that we're all a bit odd and a bit imperfect, but we need to come to terms with it, and even learn to admire quirks, especially in other people. It makes things a bit more interesting.

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A little too interesting is that damn post on craftster, with someone's life sized, I'm sure dearly loved, pet Taran. tu. spider. i can't say the t word very well. It was huge, this picture, and the damned creature was on a human hand. I know, lots of people have them as pets, but I saw it, and I shuddered, and I jumped back, knocking the cat off the chair and figured it out milliseconds later and scrolled it off the screen, but I have to avoid craftster until it's off the damned new photos segment. It was a full sized picture, a life sized picture. I hate that I'm still terrified of the damn things. I've tried getting over it. I'm better. I can deal with daddy longlegs and the tons and tons of garden spiders and basement spiders and other spiders (seriously, my yard has like a dozen every square foot. It's crazy). But the t-words, and so fuckin' big, and after I got off work and was tired and in my happy craftster place, and now every time anything feels funny I feel scared. That's ok. Gimme another half an hour and some relaxant aromatherapy crap and I'll be okay. I HATE BEING SUCH A FUCKING PANSY.

1 comment:

Christopher And Tia said...

Just wait until a big T is hanging out in your bathroom to greet you in the morning. Nothing will make your heart jump out of your chest like that. Everyone has phobias. I don't think you're a pansy. And not just because we share the same one.

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