Random Channel Surfing

I know. I'm being dramatic, but I really do have the worst luck when it comes to my favourite shows. (And by worst I mean that I get three wonderful, happy seasons of my favourite TV show and then it either goes downhill [see: Glee] or it gets cancelled [see: Happy Endings and The Mindy Project].) First, ABC cancelled Happy Endings and now Fox cancelled The Mindy Project. Both shows are well-written, and funny, and feature a diverse and talented group of actors that have amazing rapport with one another. Who could I help but fall in love with these shows? Not me, that's for sure. And now that Mindy Project is kaput, it's put my Tuesday evenings in limbo. What will I do now that Mindy and Danny won't be flirting up a storm on my TV? What will I do now that I'm deprived of seeing their child? What will I do? I can only hope that HULU or Netflix pick up where Fox left off. I was kind of hoping that they'd do the same for Happy Endings, but... life is unfair...

This week's experiment has taught me that letting go isn't as hard as I'd thought it would be. I can (with hard work and some forethought) condition myself into attributing positive aspects to myself without guilt. It is necessary to refrain from adding to the never-ending cacophony of negativity that surrounds me. It taught me that any negative thoughts--be it that I'm pathetic, or ridiculous, or dumb--I unconsciously think the moment I do something embarrassing is instinctive. So what I've learned, really, is that while thinking such negative thoughts about myself is detrimental to my mental state, my emotional well-being, and, yes, especially my self-confidence, all that I readily know about myself is that I'm pathetic, ridiculous, and/or dumb (depending on the circumstance). At least that's what my instinctive reactions would have me believe. So I've been wondering these past few days, how well do I actually know myself? I mean, I used to th...

Acting like a child because you're angry, so you take to hiding in your basement or sneaking out because it's easier than forgiving the person you love so much but can't bring yourself to trust again. That's what being immature means.

See Marcela. See Marcela jump to crazy conclusions. See Marcela overanalyze words exchanged. See Marcela lose sleep. See Marcela feel embarrassed. See Marcela want to kick herself. See Marcela start over again.

Ah.

It's so aggravating; every time I react angrily or show a passionate emotion, I feel alien. Weird. Awkward. And I don't get it. Why do I torture myself for defending myself? I have the right to get upset. I have the right to stand up for myself. //endrant

Feeling insecure about my appearance and things like that is totally okay. Well, it's not okay. I mean, I don't relish feeling insecure, but it's a fact of life. We're not going to love the way we look 24/7, nor are we going to be happy with what we're given. Would I like smaller boobs? Hell yes. Would I rather be 5'5" than 5'? Definitely. But can I change those things? Nope. (Unless I got a breast reduction and/or wore heels every day. No, thanks.) And to be honest, I don't really want to. I am what I am. And, in the event that I meet an incredible man someday who'll love my huge boobs and tiny stature, I know acceptance starts with me (cheesy, yes, but very true). But when I start doubting my dreams? I don't think my heart can cope. Again, I'm scared. Scared I won't fulfill those dreams, scared that I'll miss my chance, scared I'll never do what I want to do. Just scared. And I know that it's irrational. I mean, it...