Bitchy Nezu is Bitchy
EDIT: Right, I finally realized that I have a working phone and an ability to use it, even to make *gasp* international calls. Turns out her computer died. Now I am going back to bed: an hour of more sleep is an hour of more sleep, right?
For those that might be looking for her, darksideofstorm's computer is kaput.
Went to bed around 2:00 this morning. Got up at 5:30 with a wicked stomach ache, but made it back to sleep with the help of Immodium. Got up at 7:00 to write with darksideofstorm, but she didn't show up. Now I'm feeling hard done by and cranky, and guilty for feeling that way. And am I doing any writing or otherwise making use of my time? No, I'm surfing and pouting. Some days I really dislike myself.
I just keep see-sawing back and forth, from disappointment over the missed collaborative writing I'd been looking forward to, to irritation at having been stood up, to self-castigation because I'm sure she has a good reason for not being here, to slightly neurotic worry that maybe the reason she didn't show up is that she's had something dreadful happen to her, to even more neurotic worry that by even being slightly annoyed over being stood up, I'm somehow karmically charging her absence and thus making it the case that the reason she missed our date is because something dreadful has happened to her, and then back to, 'No, she just flaked. You really should have not bothered setting your alarm when she didn't answer your email yesterday attempting to confirm the appointment.' To, 'OMG, Nezu, you are such a bitch for even thinking that.'
None of this is useful. Why don't I just either a) work on some other project that doesn't require her presence, I certainly have a bajillion of them? Or b) go back to bed?
But I have to get up for church in an hour and a half anyway, and part of me is hoping that she will show up any minute.
And the rest of me knows that's stupid. When I was a teenager my Mom gave me a book that she'd had when she was a teenager, published by Seventeen magazine, on etiquette and comportment for teen girls. It was full of those Neato-Keen™ mid-century modern style drawings of impossibly slim-waisted, big-busted girls in party dresses, talking on the phone while wearing white gloves and tiny hats. It talked about how to set a proper table, how to behave while babysitting, how to throw a themed party. And how to not wait by the phone for him to call.
Which is what I'm doing, effectively, by moping online, hoping my friend shows up, and pouting that she's not here. How tragic is that? I'm a twenty-first century parody of a cartoon of a 1950's teenage girl.
Not her, though, because she actually had her call go through.
FURTHER EDIT: Just to be clear here, this is about my fail, not Dark's. Well, her computer fail contributed, but that's hardly her fault. So even though she features in the narrative, it's not meant to reflect on her at all. I spent the last couple hours while I was at church worrying that it would be mistaken that way and thinking I should delete it, but I decided to put this caveat here instead. And um....
Someone once told me I think too much; I think they may have been right.
For those that might be looking for her, darksideofstorm's computer is kaput.
Went to bed around 2:00 this morning. Got up at 5:30 with a wicked stomach ache, but made it back to sleep with the help of Immodium. Got up at 7:00 to write with darksideofstorm, but she didn't show up. Now I'm feeling hard done by and cranky, and guilty for feeling that way. And am I doing any writing or otherwise making use of my time? No, I'm surfing and pouting. Some days I really dislike myself.
I just keep see-sawing back and forth, from disappointment over the missed collaborative writing I'd been looking forward to, to irritation at having been stood up, to self-castigation because I'm sure she has a good reason for not being here, to slightly neurotic worry that maybe the reason she didn't show up is that she's had something dreadful happen to her, to even more neurotic worry that by even being slightly annoyed over being stood up, I'm somehow karmically charging her absence and thus making it the case that the reason she missed our date is because something dreadful has happened to her, and then back to, 'No, she just flaked. You really should have not bothered setting your alarm when she didn't answer your email yesterday attempting to confirm the appointment.' To, 'OMG, Nezu, you are such a bitch for even thinking that.'
None of this is useful. Why don't I just either a) work on some other project that doesn't require her presence, I certainly have a bajillion of them? Or b) go back to bed?
But I have to get up for church in an hour and a half anyway, and part of me is hoping that she will show up any minute.
And the rest of me knows that's stupid. When I was a teenager my Mom gave me a book that she'd had when she was a teenager, published by Seventeen magazine, on etiquette and comportment for teen girls. It was full of those Neato-Keen™ mid-century modern style drawings of impossibly slim-waisted, big-busted girls in party dresses, talking on the phone while wearing white gloves and tiny hats. It talked about how to set a proper table, how to behave while babysitting, how to throw a themed party. And how to not wait by the phone for him to call.
Which is what I'm doing, effectively, by moping online, hoping my friend shows up, and pouting that she's not here. How tragic is that? I'm a twenty-first century parody of a cartoon of a 1950's teenage girl.
Not her, though, because she actually had her call go through.
FURTHER EDIT: Just to be clear here, this is about my fail, not Dark's. Well, her computer fail contributed, but that's hardly her fault. So even though she features in the narrative, it's not meant to reflect on her at all. I spent the last couple hours while I was at church worrying that it would be mistaken that way and thinking I should delete it, but I decided to put this caveat here instead. And um....
Someone once told me I think too much; I think they may have been right.