Lessons Learned from a Blobfish

Take a good look at the following picture, people. That is a blobfish, arguably the ugliest fish out there. How awesome is that?











I think I would like to poke it with a finger just to see it jiggle. And its nose-like projection adds everything to its image. Sometimes I feel like what I imagine the blobfish feels like. I also have jiggly parts and a unique nose. I also get rather pasty because of my aversion to encouraging skin cancer. And I have some complexion problems that go beyond what appears on the blobfish's chin. I guess the blobfish is at least pretty clean since it floats around in water all day, or if the water's dirty, then at least I can say the blobfish's slimy skin/scales/whatver is/are impervious to it. I feel like I should work harder on my appearance, until I think about all the effort it takes. Then I'm satisfied to let my hair dry as I ride my bike over cobblestones, to wear my out-of-style clothes, and to continue donning sun screen, as long as I'm clean and [fairly] presentable.

Another similarity would be my tendency to do things on my own. But I'd like to think that the darkness of the deep waters where the blobfish is found is symbolic for the lack of social relationships in its life.

Unlike the blobfish, I go to the food (Vilja, you know that). However, sometimes I let things like decisions and deadlines come to me.

So, what have I learned from the blobfish?

-You don't have to be gorgeous.
-You don't have to be embarrassed about your looks if you're clean.
-Being alone is a dark way to live. (Even though my inner hermit rebels against this idea.)
-Don't let things get under your skin.
-Take initiative.