On stripping bark from myself

Behind my computer there's a pushpin board that comprises the back of my hutch, where I have a bunch of pictures, cards, and other little sentimental, pointy, and/or hangable things. Above a cutout title from a magazine that says "BE DELICIOUS" and beside a dangling bracelet there's a fortune cookie fortune that says, "Act well your part; there the honor lies." I kept it because I liked it, but now that I'm sitting here, I'm wondering how ethical it is to pass Alexander Pope quotes off as Asian premonitions.

I think because I have a superfluity of opinions and the standard running monologue in my head, I forget how quiet I can appear to be. It's not, for example, a word I'd use to describe myself. I tend to associate quiet with nervousness and shyness, whereas my lack of verbalization is a product of conscious choice and/or a preventative measure to keep from getting punched in the face.

Speaking of opinions, I've held this one for a while: While it's important to have friends, it's more important to know and be comfortable with who you are outside of them. As empowering and unibomberish of a mindset as this is, and though I still put a lot of stock in it, I now concede that it's stupid to try to pretend like my friends don't define me to some extent. And that if I didn't have any friends, I wouldn't really be a happy camper. Ironically, the use of the phrase "happy camper" probably isn't the sort of thing that's going to aid in my accumulation of friends.

Also, I love psychology, but I have to admit it's a little disheartening to learn that some trait or sensation you thought was magically mysterious has a scientific name and study. I imagine that kind of realization is even more disheartening when people recognize those similarities in the "dissociative disorders" section of the book.

"Linda is the only person I know who could pretty much pass as any race" -Will