Have you ever searched your name on Google? You always look around a few times to make sure no one can see you type it. And you know it's perverse and conceited, but that's pretty much the appeal of it.
Well..yeah, me neither.
But hypothetically I did something similar to that today and searched "missmojorising.blogspot.com" in blogger's database. Yes, I am dirty.
I didn't really expect to find anything of interest from this hypothetical search but I was in the midst of a history essay and had grown tired of playing with myspace.
Strangely, though, the first item pulled up by the search was a review of my site.
At first I was shocked that someone had actually expended time on not only scanning my blog but then formulating an opinion on it and posting his conclusions. Then I was a bit sad that this poor mislead man had actually expended said time on it. But then I was happy again that I hadn't been entirely right about no one reading my blog.After all I'm a seventeen year old female, I need incessant amounts of attention.
And so I'm shamelessly whoring out my review because well, I need incessant amounts of attention. Plus it's still rather cool that someone I don't even know took a few minutes to acknowledge my babblings, no matter how random.
Okay, so I'm back momentarily. I still plan on upholding this blogger recession of mine, but I was just handed something that may not completely "boring 'n stuff". And if it is, oh well. Shove it.
So today I had a melt down of sorts. This is clearly not something entirely foreign to me. But as of late my judaic anxiety has been even further amplified by continuous collegiate stress and perhaps a little too much useless sex.
Anyway I wouldn't have even thought to mention the general fog of today until my mom came home and handed me a Manila folder that has "For: Beautiful One" scripted on the front in blue sharpie. Obviously I was all "Wtf, mom?" as this kind of address was rather peculiar. And also really fucking weird.
She told me it was from a secretary at the school she works in. A secretary who, for no particular reason, has taken a liking to me. Today she asked "So how's your daughter doing?" and my mother, who had just gotten off the phone with me and was still recovering from talking me through my moderate conniption, answered "Well, she had a little melt down today. But she'll be fine." It seems my mom must've gone into more detail about what was bothering me because inside the nicely addressed envelope was this:
I can't remember the last time someone said I was beautiful and I don't think I've ever really believed them. But despite my mundane female insecurity this letter, which sounds like it was written by the Buddha collaborating with Oprah, was probably one of the kindest gestures anyone has ever made toward me. Sincere and uplifting, this woman added just enough happiness to my day to make it not a complete waste of time.
It just goes to show you that random acts of kindness aren't complete bullshit and maybe, when you think you've got nothing, there's still something out there. Aside from that Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul mildly nauseating sensitivity, I can now say that my day no longer sucked copious amounts of ass and Marie Williams may be my new best friend.
