Fitting in

From this week's astrobarry

Do you really give a rat's-ass how 'other people' (in quotes because, at its base, it's an abstraction) are apt to judge you? Seriously, Pisces, this whole notion of fitting in—or, its identical twin, purposely not fitting in (so you'll, of course, fit into a different sort of reactionary niche)—is terribly junior-high. And yet, at the same time, I want you to acknowledge how profoundly your psyche has been impacted by past experiences of rejection or incompatibility… if only so that you may understand why your adult self may still censor its distinctive individuality at certain moments, in order to gain supposed favor from that same cool older-sibling or trendy schoolyard clique reimagined with today's cast of characters. We've all hit up against our protrusive oddness through such exclusions. The difference in your case? You're so sensitive, they might've felt like mortal wounds. Before you automatically assume the role of outsider, pause to consider whether you have now become the preemptive judger (of yourself, of others, of others' judgments of you)… instead of leaving open the possibility you actually do belong somewhere, based on who you really are.

Wow he's really convinced Pisces are the true outsiders.

I got a little golden oldie tip for living from a date, of all the things, the other night (no laughing in the back). Ascribed to the Dalai Lama, but probably off the back of a conflake packet: "Happiness comes when what we think, what we do, and what we say are the same".

Yeah baby, missy b# is on an integrity jag.

Rat rat ratty

I appear to be playing chicken with a rat in the kitchen.

Unbeknownst to me, I appear to have a primal fear of the little fucker. He ran out when I went in, then when I went out he ran back into the kitchen and under the fridge. I am absolutely goddam starving because I just got home at 9pm and am trying to heat up some curry I cooked last night, but the thought of mr ratty underfoot while reheating is making my stomach turn.

But I live on the 2nd floor, so I don't know how to encourage him out. Too late go and buy rat traps and the thought of emptying one tomorrow is disgusting too.

This is a moment when I could really do with a goddam husband. And I don't say that too often.

Emerald City

I have a hate-love relationship with Sydney sometimes. On a rainy windy day last week I exited Central station via the tunnel on the Devonshire street side. I'll be the first to admit I have a habit of checking out the general populace probably more than I should. It's not a sexy thing it's just that I like to visually register interesting things, tall people with their trousers too short, neat little asian couples looking like they just stepped of the plane from Harijuku district Tokyo, buskers doing steel-string guitar. So on this morning I glanced at a really obese lady in a bright floral smock probably for about half a second too long - she swerved diagonally across the steps to specifically say "SHIIT!" right in my ear, then carried on walking behind me. Sigh, whoops, making the unstable feel threatened.

Cross the street, unfold the massive golf umbrealla I got last time we had a week of non-stop rain in Sydney. Arrived in the cafe for one of my regular "what can we do next" meeting with friend and fellow entrepreneurial colleague, shaking out the brolly and the rain out of my hair and coat. After our meeting I went to leave the cafe and yep, my special, giant, keep the monson rains off brolly was missing. Bastard inner city yuppies.

Got in a cab and scooted up to the big end of town, where I slipped into a silent lift where the doors snicked shut. Slid up to the top of a tower of steel and glass to talk about a genuinely interesting attempt by a wealthy company to do something that takes a step forward in making lots of people use less resources, every day, without even knowing it. Nice. Inspiring.