tag irony
Well I sure haven't checked my flist in a while, whoops.
Aside from wanting to strangle various doctors, I've gone on a mission for sushi, started reading a "for fun" (with implications to research) book, and had an increasing number of rows with my girlfriend about literally everything, primarily Being Told Things.
"Being Told Things" includes: being told what I really meant by something; being told what I did conflicts what I think I did; being told what I said conflicts what I think I said; having words directly put into my mouth; being told what kind of mood I'm in; having all of these things asserted to me repeatedly after I've explained what the case actually is. All of which, I am beginning to notice, are triggers to defensive anger and withdrawal because they're Tactics My Mother Uses ("I'm just going to talk over your attempts to be a person with agency until you agree to whatever I've decided is happening"). It's not actually her normal behaviour so I am fucked if I know what's going on either.
I've also had some impressively awful dreams (last night's involved snowstorms, homelessness, and enforced public nudity, all of which I HAVE experienced, but never at the same TIME; the night before had me disappearing into thick black wet soil some several metres above my head because I stepped on the wrong thing, which I suspect may be metaphorical rather than literal - I remember thinking with a kind of resigned panic, "I suppose I'm going to stop breathing soon then".), begun rewatching Hannibal (Which is hilarious and comforting, and hilariously comforting), and last night watched Mary Beard effectively reiterating SPQR on BBC2.
None of which is doing a great deal to shift my sense of overall guilt (why aren't you working it's nearly may you're not going to get this book written everything you do sucks why are you reading that "not everyone can go flat out all the time" is just an excuse you never do any work you're so fucking lazy stop making excuses don't you know no one will care about you if you don't write these damn books -- NO ONE READS THEM ANYWAY -- why aren't you working why haven't you done x why haven't you done y why are you getting into bed you have done NOTHING DO WORK) and sadness (totally implaccable, don't understand where it's coming from or why).
Aside from wanting to strangle various doctors, I've gone on a mission for sushi, started reading a "for fun" (with implications to research) book, and had an increasing number of rows with my girlfriend about literally everything, primarily Being Told Things.
"Being Told Things" includes: being told what I really meant by something; being told what I did conflicts what I think I did; being told what I said conflicts what I think I said; having words directly put into my mouth; being told what kind of mood I'm in; having all of these things asserted to me repeatedly after I've explained what the case actually is. All of which, I am beginning to notice, are triggers to defensive anger and withdrawal because they're Tactics My Mother Uses ("I'm just going to talk over your attempts to be a person with agency until you agree to whatever I've decided is happening"). It's not actually her normal behaviour so I am fucked if I know what's going on either.
I've also had some impressively awful dreams (last night's involved snowstorms, homelessness, and enforced public nudity, all of which I HAVE experienced, but never at the same TIME; the night before had me disappearing into thick black wet soil some several metres above my head because I stepped on the wrong thing, which I suspect may be metaphorical rather than literal - I remember thinking with a kind of resigned panic, "I suppose I'm going to stop breathing soon then".), begun rewatching Hannibal (Which is hilarious and comforting, and hilariously comforting), and last night watched Mary Beard effectively reiterating SPQR on BBC2.
None of which is doing a great deal to shift my sense of overall guilt (why aren't you working it's nearly may you're not going to get this book written everything you do sucks why are you reading that "not everyone can go flat out all the time" is just an excuse you never do any work you're so fucking lazy stop making excuses don't you know no one will care about you if you don't write these damn books -- NO ONE READS THEM ANYWAY -- why aren't you working why haven't you done x why haven't you done y why are you getting into bed you have done NOTHING DO WORK) and sadness (totally implaccable, don't understand where it's coming from or why).