Lori-Lyn wrote about choosing to wear a favorite skirt earlier this week, and I was thinking about her words this morning during my walk, because I was enjoying the feel of a flowy dress I'd picked up on eBay a couple weeks ago... and how I'm sometimes afraid to wear things I love if I think I might be about to have a difficult day (e.g., when I suspect I'll be clashing with a problem colleague, or when I'm feeling underprepared or underqualified for what's on deck), because I don't want to risk tainting the clothing or accessories with associations of ugliness or failure should what I fear come to pass.

I realize this is neither rational nor healthy, and I like to think I manage to get over myself more often than not, but it's definitely something I have to work at. I have a reputation in several circles as The Person Who Actually Gets On With Things and Gets Them Done, so it's perhaps ironic that I have to tell myself on a regular basis not to be a pessimistic ninny. At any rate, it's also part of what drives me - because the fear of "screwing up" a pair of beloved earrings is well-outweighed by the fear of becoming one of those neurotic bores people try to avoid at cocktail parties.

It was humid and overcast this morning, but with a light breeze. It felt good to be moving about, and the light flowingness of the dress helped. (Perhaps I should make a point of exercising in dresses? Hmmm...)

This cartoon (swans toasting Tchaikovsky) was mentioned in the artist's NYT obituary yesterday morning.

I was pulled over Wednesday afternoon... by a cop who then handed me the leftovers I'd forgotten placing on the roof of my car.

Some friends from Georgia stopped by this week, and we went to a new place in Nashville called "Sky Blue." The eggs benedict and coffee were very good.

Via marymary: Laini Taylor on feeling "not actually smart enough to do what you're trying to do." I've got several projects where the closer I get towards "done" (aka the point where I have to submit them), the further away from "done" I feel in terms of learning about them and doing them justice.

It's so very frustrating - but exciting, too. One of my most vivid recurring nightmares is of being responsible for property or projects stored in a house with disappearing rooms. Whereas research (and practicing music/calligraphy/writing/etc.) is more like testing the doorknob to what I thought was a broom closet, only to find myself suddenly in the middle of a planetarium.

(Hmm. Have just added Everything I Write Is an Introduction to my list of "Things To Write or Make Someday." And now that I've done that, I need to get back to rigging my current heap of planetarium parts into a working telescope.)



[Subject line: the title of one of my favorite Richard Shindell songs.]