Miss Estimation

Lately I have been thinking hard about the ways I over&under estimate myself, the ways others do so, & the ways my belief in which way a certain person is estimating me effects me. It started out more of a joke, me mocking my self-pity. But then, I came to realize this really has a lot to do with how I see myself and how I perceive my relationship with others.

Some people I see as overestimating me. These people make me very happy, but they also provide actually the most pressure on me. I want so much to never disappoint them, though I am convinced if they were seeing me correctly they would be disappointed. Some concerns I keep coming back to regarding these people include: whether to trust their perception of me over my own, if so in what ways I need to reevaluate, and if not how to live up to their high expectations.

Many more people I see as underestimating me. For these people I tend to live up to what they seem to think of me. I don't even try to act better around them, even though I see myself as better than the way I behave around them. I may act stupider, ruder, or more flighty. I feel the most comfortable around these people, because I feel that they are fools. I am usually completely convinced that my perception of myself is better than their perception. Therefore, I see myself as somehow superior to them, despite my degraded behavior in their presence. This behavior of course only serves to solidify their underestimation, but that feels safer. Sometimes they underestimate so adamantly that I start to believe them, but this is only if they prove to be exceptionally observant rendering it difficult to believe my perception is better than theirs.

The people who frustrate, and intrigue me the most, and the vast majority of people (most likely simply for probability's sake. I see as doing some combination of the two. This keeps me constantly frustrated, trying to figure out where I stand and where I need to improve. I start not trusting others' perceptions, but I simultaneously lose a lot of faith in my own perception.

I am a person, it is undeniable, who is obsessed with finding scales of perception&observation, with hopes that these will lead to the most accurate evaluation of my self & my actions. Self-obsessed, yes. But also a bit noble.

I don't do this because it is easy. It tears me apart more often than not, which is why the observations I have detailed in this post have lead me to believe I need to just be more secure in general and focus my concentration elsewhere. But, I also do this for a reason. I do think that all too often perception all-around, anybody's perception, is unreliable.

No doubt, I do believe that creating systems of evaluation, the continual assessment and fine-tuning of those systems, is the mark of an active and critical mind. This creativity insures the most intelligent, I would even argue ethical, lifestyles. After all, how well I do is largely intertwined with my perception of what to do, how to go about doing it, and how well I am already doing.

But. If my perception is being so skewed by what other people think, there is probably a better way. I need to still consider input, but I also need to logically consider and evaluate more apart from others. In other words I do need to worry less, the worry itself is most likely skewing my results. Most importantly, I need to set my own standards and stick to them regardless of how I feel a friend is perceiving me.

Todays Color is the Color Green

I have decided to indulge my hobby of interior design over the course of this next year by painting and transforming our guest room/storage room/reading room.

I realized of the sudden that the colors I have picked out are very similar to the ones on this blog. If I think about it, my previous blog was green too.

I thought I chose these colors because green is my favorite, but I think green really strikes me as the color to write in.

I am so glad I started this particular blog. I have been pleased with the lack of pressure this blog provides. It really is my little space. I come here full of thoughts that don't know how to escape me, and I pour them onto the page. I'm not going to say I don't second guess their form or function, but really overall I feel at ease on this blog.

If I could create a room that inspired the same flow of ideas and words and all-around good will toward mankind, then I would be double-mega-wackoland awesome. (Also, I miss Paul Grey.)

Making Rooms To Make A Home

My Dad, my Husband, and I made the seat for this chair. Bob's Mom saved it from the trash.

It was one small project in making a new home. This past month, instead of posting here, I have been: packing up our ever growing pile of belongings, moving them fifty miles (with plenties of generous help from my Brother and my Friend), cleaning up ye olde apartment, moving in brand new furniture, & unpacking the now slightly reduced (thanks to Goodwill trips) pile of belongings.

I have been making a new home for us. Luckily we like it so much here, and are getting so many good vibes from the space and people, that it was inclined to feel like home. One exciting thing about this place is that it is only a few minutes from Bob's workplace. Another exciting thing is that it is near all of the things we are used to being so far away from. We even have a laundry room around the corner.

For me the most exciting thing about this place is that we are allowed to paint and in general are encouraged to make the space our own. No bans on nails or hooks or whatever little touches we want to add. I've been watching interior design shows (we splurged and now have cable and it's even HD) and getting inspired.

I have been busy. It felt good and busy. Also, it gave me a goodly amount of time for deep thought away from the pace of my usual daily routines. I come back to those routines, including using the internet, as a refreshed stranger. But the wheels for communication do feel a bit rusty.

Unfortunately, the day we moved out of our old apartment was also the day of a funeral for a very dear lady. Robert's Grandma Ruth has passed on. Though Bob and myself are neither one of us ones to speak much of our grief, it does not mean it is not there. In fact, I feel it is too deep for us to really put into words or even expressions.

There has been sorrow here, and there has been a renewed feeling of the beauty of life and our desire to make the most of it. Robert has been telling me stories about his Grandma, something I encouraged him to do to deal with grieving, and she will definitely be remembered by us and many others.

One of the memories he shared that most touched me is that when he was little and lifting buckets at the farm, Grandma Ruth would empathetically make noises as he would strain to lift them. I believe it was this kind of caring and strength that so endeared her to me even in the short time that I spent with her. She liked my Wonder Woman bag, and to this day when I look at it I still start to glow with that memory.

Grandma Ruth, like Bob himself, has shown me how beautiful quiet & gentle are. Though I have always been inclined to see beauty in the blustery & shout-at-the-top-of-my-lungs sort. She was definitely a beautiful person. Her love of some of the most overlooked but powerful parts of life, like rest and a room, will stay with me.

And of course, I won't go much into all the deep careful thoughts I have measured toward figuring out my stance on death & keeping my complete and utter fear of it at bay.

On the other hand, I feel so blessed. I am enjoying one of the things I enjoy most, making a home. It is one of the things I like most about living, and not everybody gets to do it.

It has been quite a month. Forgive my clumsy recounting of it, but I wanted to share it.