Halloween. At least, it is at work. A pretty good percentage of us showed up in costume since the school for the physically and mentally challenged kids up the road from us come by to Trick or Treat at lunch. In the five years I've been here, I've come as an Olympic medalist, a geisha, a medieval bar maid - all decent enough. The year I came as a geisha people walked past my door and did a double take, which is great for a store-bought costume. This year people are a bit puzzled when they see me - the orange satin is throwing them a bit, and they assume I have something to do with UT. But no, although I am a closet UT fan, today I'm representing the Tennessee state object - the ubiquitous orange construction barrel. And I'm having a blast :)
I've never been good with expressing emotions. I always felt that emotions were a sign of weakness - part of being raised as my father's "son", I suppose. Lately I'm having a hard time bottling up those things that bubble up when people start flinging arrows and stones. Some I deserve. Others, less so. Innocent comments get taken out of context and used to further some cause. I make a genuine post about an overwhelming feeling I have, and someone turns it into an accusation, based on some sort of internet statistic that proves I've posted in response to something else. Frankly, I don't see the connection. I get angry more often than I used to, but I often feel like I've been kicked in the gut too. I'm not accustomed to that one. It usually brings tears. Intended kindnesses are perceived as attempts to control. And this post will be labeled as an attempt to send someone on a guilt trip - but hey - if the shoe fits, baby, wear it out.
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