I’ve had this blog for a little under two years, and I’m going to brush off my own shoulderpad and take a look and what has been racking up the hits.
Honestly, I could use a boost: I thought of at least four face-raging topics before deciding that I didn’t need to go off on certain behaviors of my esteemed colleagues in this endeavor (i.e. Life) or, even better, go off on myself. Unless someone wants me to go batsh*t keyboard-smash on some universal atrocity– just say the word! (Hint: the word is “Go.”)
So, here are the top 6:
- Resting Bitchface, ASL, and BPD– 18 Oct 2014
- A Borderline’s FP– 25 December 2015
- Ageism: It’s Not Just for the Aged!– 6 March 2015
- Metta Practice as a Borderline– 18 Jan 2015
- Critiquing DEAR MAN. (Dear Man, Give It Up.)- 13 February 2015
- “My Life Sucks Worse Than Yours“- 29 October 2014
Well, a good ⅔ of those posts are on borderline personality. I’m not sure if that was an early group that began to follow, or if the paucity of quality information on the subject has forced people to dig quite a lot of holes to find a nugget. Yes, I’m assuming I’m a nugget, though whether a gold nugget or a turd nugget I’ll leave to you, O dear reader.
As far as search terms that this damn site stat thing will let me see, “FP” is one hell of a hit. Favorite person. (Fussbudget. Fuck bucket. Ew.) And there went the good mood…
I’m saying goodbye to a beloved one soon. Give it two months or so, but she’s moving. In theory, it will be a legitimate, no joke, may-never-see-each-other-again goodbye. One of those. She brought it up on Friday, and I think I’ve been in defense mode ever since.
Rally the troops! Defend the emotional walls! The bitch kicked the dike around Holland, and that little boy’s index finger hasn’t got a chance in heaven. Or in hell, but nobody has a chance for anything but immense pain in hell, so that’s really a worthless idiom. *blinks* Stop standing there contemplating idioms and get to defending! The walls shall not fall! This isn’t fucking Troy or Jericho. …. Ooooooo look a horse!
I suppose if my unconscious self had an ADD general in charge of military operations, that’s what he might sound like. Yes, he. This bastard might be Jeff (last paragraph in that one), as a matter of fact. Either way, any kind personifications of cognitive patterns tend to have female actors cast, and the malignant ones have male actors. I’m sure Jeff was a perfectly nice construct before I attached him to the terrible part of my brain that calls me a “stupid piece of shit” when I drop something.
Rambling. Getting back.
I’m saying goodbye to a lovely person with whom I have found myself rather smitten, and it’s going to suck. She’s been a really positive presence on this strange ass island, and I’m not looking forward to spending another year on it without her fidgeting. I’d anticipate an ugly meltdown in August. Winter is coming. Again.