Where Does It Come From? 

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Every two weeks or so, I head over to check out Miss Diana. A 23-year-old from Boston, studying to be a librarian or something, and I can't remember how I stumbled on her blog. Something struck me about her and I return once or twice a month to see how her life is going.

Her life, despite a few details, kinda resembles mine: "listening to ..... in a bar in ....., ...... with good friends ......, ....public library sales & checking out tons of ..... books & delicious ..... snacks!"

That's my life!

There are plenty of other people out there who live my life too, obsessed with book sales and devoting more time to friends than to the career. I'm a dime a dozen.

Yet I don't read every blog written by over-socialized book sluts. I read hers - and here's the reason why.

In yesterday's post Miss Diana wrote, "today, i woke up sexy -- seriously, i rolled out of bed pouring lusty vibes from all over."

I've spent a few months now trying to figure out where Miss Diana gets this incredible gift to wake up feeling great.

She's always photographing herself and there is no malice in her pictures, as you get from some women who get themselves on film only to say "See? I am more beautiful than you could ever be." When the universe threatens to do in Miss Diana and she feels like she could mop up the troubles of the world with her dirtrag of a self, she still ends her journal entries with a "hooray!"

Me, when I think about my shortcomings, I feel like I am staring at a huge chasm of dust that I have sweep clean. It could be the aftershock of evolving from a particularly virulent strain of Catholicism to 1960s-era Maoism where I, as the bourgeoisie European, had to flagellate myself into a froth of self-criticism.

Even when I avoid all confrontation and hardly step outside my door, the animosity of the universe tumbles on me (just now, for example, some angry woman took extreme offense to something I wrote and sent me almost 2000 emails to "punish" me).

But why doesn't Miss Diana plummet into despair? Or, better yet, how can she see so much goodness in herself? Where does this conviction that she's yabba-dabba-doo great come from?

Hurrah for Miss Diana and a happy, happy Tuesday to her!

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