That happy place
This past week has been one of the worst for me. This paper that I am constructing for my Architecture course is finally coming along, but I assure you yesterday the God damn world was coming to an end.
On top of that my car's brakes went out yesterday morning on the way to work. I'll be getting it back today, and I"ll be $270 poorer than I was two days ago when my car worked perfectly fine (in relative terms).
The past few days I've been taking an (ed. unhealthy?) approach to dealing with my stress by going to a "happy place". So I close my eyes and imagine myself in the place that I feel couldn't make me more at piece with the world. And where is that place? At a God damn convention with a book on the table. Hell some days it's just been opening up the box of books at my house. It's a little sad, but it's been helping me get through the day. Hopefully I won't develop some kind of manga-ka withdrawal tumor.
I couldn't, of course, get through this shit if Deanna weren't so tolerant of my bitching. She knows just as much stress as me, and can understand that the world is indeed sometimes coming apart at the seams (seems?). She still puts up with me though and wants to cuddle even though I've got some ugly mad face on and I'm stomping around like an eight year old. I commend her effort. And I love her.
I have to go watch movies about housing projects in 1920's Berlin now. DO NOT WORRY. It's narrated by a boring British guy with an awesome tie, sports jacket and jeans emsemble.
On top of that my car's brakes went out yesterday morning on the way to work. I'll be getting it back today, and I"ll be $270 poorer than I was two days ago when my car worked perfectly fine (in relative terms).
The past few days I've been taking an (ed. unhealthy?) approach to dealing with my stress by going to a "happy place". So I close my eyes and imagine myself in the place that I feel couldn't make me more at piece with the world. And where is that place? At a God damn convention with a book on the table. Hell some days it's just been opening up the box of books at my house. It's a little sad, but it's been helping me get through the day. Hopefully I won't develop some kind of manga-ka withdrawal tumor.
I couldn't, of course, get through this shit if Deanna weren't so tolerant of my bitching. She knows just as much stress as me, and can understand that the world is indeed sometimes coming apart at the seams (seems?). She still puts up with me though and wants to cuddle even though I've got some ugly mad face on and I'm stomping around like an eight year old. I commend her effort. And I love her.
I have to go watch movies about housing projects in 1920's Berlin now. DO NOT WORRY. It's narrated by a boring British guy with an awesome tie, sports jacket and jeans emsemble.