In which I make an ass of myself

I am so embarrassed.  I did something stupid that embarrassed me so much that I have to write about my feelings, but I can’t tell you what the thing was, because the thing was too embarrassing to tell you about.

I. am. MORTIFIED.

How could I have been so stupid?

I must save the internet from any random acts of stupidity that I might commit in the future!

I can’t be online!  I can’t answer email! I can’t tweet!  I can’t post on a blog!  I can’t research the life of Clyfford Still!

And I can’t fucking paint, either!

 

Goddamn me.

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9 thoughts on “In which I make an ass of myself

  1. When I do something truly embarrassing, it consumes my thoughts and makes me so uncomfortable that I go crazy. I get fidgety, can’t focus and can’t act normal or have a normal conversation. That may not be the same as how you feel, but either way, I sympathize.

  2. Hey Exiled,

    That’s one of the reasons I find it so hard to be out and about with my writing, because I’m always worried that I’m going to say the wrong thing, like inadvertently insult another writer, or misquote someone, or sound like I’m better than I am…I hate being mortified. My face gets all hot, I get sweaty and clammy, my heart pounds in my ears!

    But the other commenters are right, crap like this happens to us all, so in the grand scheme of things it will become a small blip on the passage of life.

    Everything will be ok.

    • You have all been so nice. Thank you so much.

      I wouldn’t sweat it so much, ordinarily, but you have to understand I messed up royally in front of someone I REALLY REALLY LIKE.

      So yeah, the four horsemen of the Apocalypse are not coming for me yet, but…the person will now think I am a total ass.

      The world will continue serenely on, except that someone I really, really like will not like me! And I really care about that, because the person is rather important to me. Though I am not important to them.

      Damn me.

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