That’s cool to know. I don’t think I would be comfortable seeking the touch/grazing part from a therapist, but I’ve never had a professional massage and I feel like I’d really benefit from one. My legs especially. I figure it’s due to being on my feet full-time at my job, but pushing and dragging my palms along my quads before bed every feels incredible.
Mine was rainy and gloomy. Our daycare lady has COVID, but my wife and I can't afford to miss work this week, so we unfortunately spent most of Father's Day driving my daughter two hours to stay with her grandparents. Not the greatest Father's Day for me, but no doubt a fantastic one for the grandfather.
She's been helping him paint the living room. Pretty good for a three-year-old.
“Ayyye, I cast me evil eyyyye upon me neighbour, Garbbeus Vardicus Melatonus, I ken. Saba-ka-boo, a meta-ga-doo, a bibbiti, bobbiti-GYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! BE THAT A SMALL PENIS DANGLING FROM YOND WINDCHIME?!?”
“Yes,” her black cat whispers from her mounded shoulders, “A tiny penis.”
"Scandalous Effectus Mandellus, neighbour of me neighour, I cast upon you me evil eyyyye…"
Every time I attempt to read The Hobbit, I feel as though my brain is going crazy flipping between the various portrayals of Bilbo. I would prefer to invent my own Bilbo, but my brain settles on a slightly younger version of the Fellowship of the Ring Bilbo. Unfortunately, that same brain also likes to pull up the Martin Freeman version, and occasionally the goofball from the old animated film - sometimes even the Helpful Vancouver Vet, which you will surely understand if you’ve ever laid eyes upon that gentle soul.
Now, I would be fine visualizing Freeman it I didn’t absolutely fucking hate the portrayal of the dwarves in the most recent Hobbit films. I can’t get those nightmarish faces and choices of facial hair stylization out of my head. And this terrible cycle perpetuates every time a character’s name is mentioned throughout the novel.
I’m sure I have a deeper issue going on psychologically, as I struggle to just let it be and enjoy the book for what it is. But as it stands, this is an ongoing problem.
I always thought I was pretty well put together and low-cringe, but every now and then I get a Facebook memory (I know, but I moved to another country and this is my lifeline to my friends and family) from ~2010 that really sheds some fucking light on exactly why I didn’t have a girlfriend. These memories reveal to me that I was indeed very cringe, and very much a product of some of the lamest internet culture in recent memory. The frequent use of the cat face emoticon :3 when interacting with girls is enough to make me want to bury these things where they can never be seen again. Conversely, these memories serve as a reminder of not only just how far I’ve come as a man, but also as a husband, a father, and a member of society.
EDIT: It’s worth mentioning that these mishaps are extremely prevalent in old exchanges between my wife and I as well, so at the very least her and I are able to cringe over them together.