I'm not going to lie to you, my largely theoretical readers--I have suspected for quite some time that being Carmen San Diego is not good for me. For a long time, I thought that I had bigger problems. My eye exploded. J and I spent most of a very stressful year gutting and remodeling Bunker 3. Then I traveled. And I traveled. And I traveled. In
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See you this weekend! :D
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Send me your itinerary so I know when to pick you up, mister.
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I am surprised at how hard it is to do this. It's been helpful to realize that my work culture is really dysfunctional--the Mysterious Workplace has this problem, but the broader globe-trotting "Internet Freedom" scene makes it many, many times worse.
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Imagine being a president. Guh. You know you're dropping a hundred thousand packets all the time, because there is just an infinite firehose of highly crucial things to do. Triage. Breathe. Go to the gym. Because you can give everything you have and become a wrung-out beef jerky towel of a human being and there will still be more crisis. So in the spirit of "it mattered to that one", yeah. It is super hard but also necessary.
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Yeah. That metaphor gets a little tortured.
I'm glad you've found a therapist. It was one of the more helpful things I've ever done for myself.
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It's actually picked up a bit. My LJ was a ghost town for a while--not that I have any right to complain, I didn't write much. These days I still don't write that often, but I don't necessarily feel like I'm shouting into the ether.
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