Don't tell me I'm being irrational
Right now, I don't care if I'm being irrational, I'm just really sick of some things.
First, I got something in the mail today. A request from the people who were my employers for a month for my Legal Aid Solicitor number. I had no idea I needed such a thing to do legal aid work for a company that had set itself up to do legal aid stuff. Fine, I should have checked, fine on my own head be it. That's not the point. I'm still aggravated that I have to find a way to apply for the empanelment and get it and send the number to them, when I want to get out of the whole lawyer thing in the first place. If I don't do this, I'm willing to be they'll sue me for the money I did make them.
Here I was thinking I'd never have to deal with them again, which was fine with me, and it's rearing it's ugly head again. Damnitalltahell.
So I'm annoyed, even if I have no official reasonable reason to be. I don't want to be reasonable.
I also don't want my mother hanging around and saying, "You have a very nice rear." "I think your rear is nice." I don't want my mother commenting on portions of my anatomy that are traditionally sexual attributes. Okay? I don't want to hear it. Then again, compliments on my appearance weird the hell out of me. Mainly because the only person who ever tells me I look nice is my mother. Naturally I don't believe her because if I never get complimented on my appearance by anyone except a person who has every reason to be biased, what possible reason is there to believe her? But the rear thing bothers me triply.
On the topic of my mother, I want to shake her until she spits up something very specific about her state of mind. Specifically whether she is incapable of understanding her current health issues, or if she is refusing to understand because she doesn't want to be wrong. She's stubborn enough for the latter, but it's impossible to tell.
I'm annoyed that season three of Supernatural was so much of "How are we gonna get you out of The Deal, Dean?" that I'm having trouble finding episodes that I want to watch, because I'm not going down the angst route again.
Also, much irritation with my new glasses, which have frames that are not effectively holding the lenses in place.
There is only one thing that has managed to leaven the irritation at all over the last few days, and that's my return to childhood with the Katy Tetralogy. What Katy Did, What Katy Did At School, What Katy Did Next and Clover. Which last one is, in fact, not about Katy, but her sister Clover, which is why there's no Katy in the title. Quite frankly, I'd forgotten how much I loved these books, and this excerpt is one of the reasons why:
"It's all very well now," she said, "while the warm weather lasts; but in winter Longwood is simply gruesome. The wind never stops blowing day nor night. It howls and it roar and it screams, till I feel as if every nerve in my body were on the point of snapping in two. And the snow, ugh! Anf burglars! Every night of our lives they come -- or I think they come -- and I lie awake and hear them sharpening their tools and fording the locks and murdering the cook and kidnapping Baby, till I long to die and have done with them forever! Oh, Nature is the most unpleasant thing!"
"Burglars are not Nature," objected Katy.
"What are they, then? Art? High Art? Well, whatever they are, I do not like them. Oh, if ever the happy day comes when Deniston consents to move into town, I never wish to set my eyes on the country again as long as I live, unless -- well, yes, I should like to come out just once more in the horse-cars and kick that elmtree by the fence! The number of times that I have lain awake at night listening to its creaking!"
"You might kick it without waiting to have a house in town."
"Oh, I shouldn't dare as long as we are living here! You never know what Nature may do. She has ways of her own of getting even with people," remarked her friend solemnly.
I simply adore Rose Red, Katy's friend in the excerpt. Katy herself is a paragon who is rather a lot of Mary Sue, and something of a prig, looking back now. But I adored the books, even though I get the feeling they've had a negative impact on my ability to socialise in the modern idiom.
Anyhow, I close with this. If you want to tell me I'm being irrational about my desire to tell the firm that fired me to go to hell and go away, take their financial knocks and leave me alone, go ahead. If you want to tell me my approach to my mother is any number of less-than-positive things, do so.
I should just warn you, you will be soundly ignored. Irritation, like so many other emotions, need not apply to rationality for it's basis. Oftentimes, it simply is.
SCWLC
First, I got something in the mail today. A request from the people who were my employers for a month for my Legal Aid Solicitor number. I had no idea I needed such a thing to do legal aid work for a company that had set itself up to do legal aid stuff. Fine, I should have checked, fine on my own head be it. That's not the point. I'm still aggravated that I have to find a way to apply for the empanelment and get it and send the number to them, when I want to get out of the whole lawyer thing in the first place. If I don't do this, I'm willing to be they'll sue me for the money I did make them.
Here I was thinking I'd never have to deal with them again, which was fine with me, and it's rearing it's ugly head again. Damnitalltahell.
So I'm annoyed, even if I have no official reasonable reason to be. I don't want to be reasonable.
I also don't want my mother hanging around and saying, "You have a very nice rear." "I think your rear is nice." I don't want my mother commenting on portions of my anatomy that are traditionally sexual attributes. Okay? I don't want to hear it. Then again, compliments on my appearance weird the hell out of me. Mainly because the only person who ever tells me I look nice is my mother. Naturally I don't believe her because if I never get complimented on my appearance by anyone except a person who has every reason to be biased, what possible reason is there to believe her? But the rear thing bothers me triply.
On the topic of my mother, I want to shake her until she spits up something very specific about her state of mind. Specifically whether she is incapable of understanding her current health issues, or if she is refusing to understand because she doesn't want to be wrong. She's stubborn enough for the latter, but it's impossible to tell.
I'm annoyed that season three of Supernatural was so much of "How are we gonna get you out of The Deal, Dean?" that I'm having trouble finding episodes that I want to watch, because I'm not going down the angst route again.
Also, much irritation with my new glasses, which have frames that are not effectively holding the lenses in place.
There is only one thing that has managed to leaven the irritation at all over the last few days, and that's my return to childhood with the Katy Tetralogy. What Katy Did, What Katy Did At School, What Katy Did Next and Clover. Which last one is, in fact, not about Katy, but her sister Clover, which is why there's no Katy in the title. Quite frankly, I'd forgotten how much I loved these books, and this excerpt is one of the reasons why:
"It's all very well now," she said, "while the warm weather lasts; but in winter Longwood is simply gruesome. The wind never stops blowing day nor night. It howls and it roar and it screams, till I feel as if every nerve in my body were on the point of snapping in two. And the snow, ugh! Anf burglars! Every night of our lives they come -- or I think they come -- and I lie awake and hear them sharpening their tools and fording the locks and murdering the cook and kidnapping Baby, till I long to die and have done with them forever! Oh, Nature is the most unpleasant thing!"
"Burglars are not Nature," objected Katy.
"What are they, then? Art? High Art? Well, whatever they are, I do not like them. Oh, if ever the happy day comes when Deniston consents to move into town, I never wish to set my eyes on the country again as long as I live, unless -- well, yes, I should like to come out just once more in the horse-cars and kick that elmtree by the fence! The number of times that I have lain awake at night listening to its creaking!"
"You might kick it without waiting to have a house in town."
"Oh, I shouldn't dare as long as we are living here! You never know what Nature may do. She has ways of her own of getting even with people," remarked her friend solemnly.
I simply adore Rose Red, Katy's friend in the excerpt. Katy herself is a paragon who is rather a lot of Mary Sue, and something of a prig, looking back now. But I adored the books, even though I get the feeling they've had a negative impact on my ability to socialise in the modern idiom.
Anyhow, I close with this. If you want to tell me I'm being irrational about my desire to tell the firm that fired me to go to hell and go away, take their financial knocks and leave me alone, go ahead. If you want to tell me my approach to my mother is any number of less-than-positive things, do so.
I should just warn you, you will be soundly ignored. Irritation, like so many other emotions, need not apply to rationality for it's basis. Oftentimes, it simply is.
SCWLC