I cry, why not, it's free
Well, that was illuminating. Yet another interminable university-level meeting. During which a higher-up notes in passing, as a frank, manly confession which does not at all suffice to compensate for the actual transgression, that if there is one area in which the upper management of our Cherished Institution has not really delivered adequately during the Current Crisis, it has been in communication, both to its students and its staff.
Armoured as I was by my microphone and camera both being off, the effrontery of this gratuitous understatement caused me to laugh out loud. Still laughing, I rolled my chair back from the desk and proceeded, to my own startlement, to degenerate into a sort of manic, bitter giggling which appeared to be entirely out of my voluntary control, and which persisted in an increasingly hyena-like manner until it rocketed into hysterical sobbing. All of which provided a fascinating counterpoint to the more-or-less irrelevant and pointless administrative wurbling as the meeting continued in the background.
I don't think I've every had full-blown hysterics before. It was illuminating. And surprisingly cathartic. And made me realise how precarious and misleading the calm, featureless nature of my working-from-home days must be, and how much my ongoing irritation with my Cherished Institution is actually quite profound. Under that surface, apparently, is lurking a buttload of stress and possible actual trauma. It's all very exhausting, and now I have a headache. The meeting having fumbled its way though circumlocution and repetition into something resembling an ending, I am now going to go and make consolatory and self-rewarding tiramisu. With berries, because I can.
On a happier note, this morning's 5.30am wake-up and happy two-hour lounge in bed with a cup of tea and two affecionate cats was enlivened by finishing Becky Chambers's The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet, which is an utterly charming space opera with nicely-realised alien races and an intensely millenial focus on found family, and which made me cry rather differently - the happy tears of response to a well-judged and ultimately uplifting emotional punch. I loved it, and have ordered all the available sequels. Do recommend. This entry has been crossposted from my Dreamwidth blog at https://freckles-and-doubt.dreamwidth.org/. The comment action is all over there, and supports OpenID.
Armoured as I was by my microphone and camera both being off, the effrontery of this gratuitous understatement caused me to laugh out loud. Still laughing, I rolled my chair back from the desk and proceeded, to my own startlement, to degenerate into a sort of manic, bitter giggling which appeared to be entirely out of my voluntary control, and which persisted in an increasingly hyena-like manner until it rocketed into hysterical sobbing. All of which provided a fascinating counterpoint to the more-or-less irrelevant and pointless administrative wurbling as the meeting continued in the background.
I don't think I've every had full-blown hysterics before. It was illuminating. And surprisingly cathartic. And made me realise how precarious and misleading the calm, featureless nature of my working-from-home days must be, and how much my ongoing irritation with my Cherished Institution is actually quite profound. Under that surface, apparently, is lurking a buttload of stress and possible actual trauma. It's all very exhausting, and now I have a headache. The meeting having fumbled its way though circumlocution and repetition into something resembling an ending, I am now going to go and make consolatory and self-rewarding tiramisu. With berries, because I can.
On a happier note, this morning's 5.30am wake-up and happy two-hour lounge in bed with a cup of tea and two affecionate cats was enlivened by finishing Becky Chambers's The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet, which is an utterly charming space opera with nicely-realised alien races and an intensely millenial focus on found family, and which made me cry rather differently - the happy tears of response to a well-judged and ultimately uplifting emotional punch. I loved it, and have ordered all the available sequels. Do recommend. This entry has been crossposted from my Dreamwidth blog at https://freckles-and-doubt.dreamwidth.org/. The comment action is all over there, and supports OpenID.