Overload

I was so impressed with the latest Dilbert caffeine-overload series that I’m going to attempt the same thing and see if I shall be gifted with psychic powers, uber-energy, and the loss of desire to do petiks. Unfortunately, I do not have Dilbert’s giant back-strap coffee mug (with a straw!) so I shall have to molest our relatively new coffeemaker every few minutes or so. I relish the thought of finishing all of my life-threateningly important pending work today.

(Did you sense the sarcasm up there?)

I got a bit irritated last night. Okay, make that more than a little irritated. I just couldn’t understand why a person who I consider as a very good friend would want to use me as her latest personality/spiritual/POV makeover project–as if I was not good enough as I am. I may not be a saint (like her), but I do my best with things, and she knows it. (Trans: I don’t stagnate. I actually do something through a process that I’m very comfortable with.)

Don’t get me wrong, I like it when my friends share whatever positive insights they have because that’s what friends are, right? We share the good things because we try to influence each other in a good way. But there’s a big difference between a nudge and a shove, and between diligence and insult. One has to be understanding and sensitive enough to know that people grow on their own time. You can’t just force them in the direction you want them to go because you think it’s right. People find their answers through their own ways.

I do not like feeling like this. I know it was well-intentioned, so I chose to not feel (too) offended. It’s just… well, distracting.

= =

It’s Dad’s birthday today! The (sort-of) celebration for both our birthdays will be this weekend. If I called you, you better come. If I didn’t and we’re kind-of-friends, don’t be insulted. It just means that I’m probably going to celebrate my birthday with you at some other day in some other way that would be more appropriate to your personality type.

(Hahaha… Gads. Dr. Phil, is that you?)

I haven’t even organized the guestlist and the menu properly yet; the mini-party-planning is my job. Dad’s responsible for cleaning his half of the house, fixing up the aquarium, and planning the types of tea that’s going to be served. And because I was feeling nice, I offered to pay for everything. Go figure.

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