smokingboot (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
smokingboot) wrote2023-08-23 11:57 am
smokingboot) wrote2023-08-23 11:57 am
Entry tags:
Flowers, Emotional Support Dalek, Loki.
Snipey. And I shouldn't be, people have been incredibly kind. My parents-in-law sent a stunning bouquet of roses, irises, thistles,gerberas, heartfelt, sweet. Then my brother-in-law and his wife sent beautiful tall sunflowers, strong and sturdy , and a friend sent me a little bright golden charm to wish me luck. Flowers and gold, smile! Then came another bouquet of sunflowers, unsigned, and after came this;
It's a supreme commander dalek, and it too came from an anonymous sender.
Turns out both are gifts from my brother!
With so much beauty, love, and care being sent my way, I should be happy. But I'm not. Grateful yes, happy, no. I'm tearful and angry and liable to set off at anything at all. People irritate me, or more likely, I am easily irritated by people. I have no patience. I can't find it, I can't find much.
And it's wrong, thinking of those flowers and the charm and the dalek, I am wrong to be this way.
Tonight I must be better. I have a meeting at 7.30, and I can't get out of it. I wish I could. Then again it might take this awful sharpness away from me, having to think outside and beyond myself, forcing my focus to external matters,but I am really worried I am going to forget stuff. I hope someone is taking minutes.
Whimsy's turning up for two nights in Edinburgh tomorrow. It should be grand but somehow I wish it wasn't happening, as though I just want to curl up very quietly. I will tell her, we'll talk, others will join us later, we'll talk some more. Much as I enjoy her company, I have so little to say. She will understand though, when I say I can't hang around deep into the night. We have the stage show the night after, and even that seems like effort. I want silence and solitude, but suspect that what I want is not good for me, that being social is better, if I can just get rid of this foul mood.
I had a dream last night in which Tom Hiddleston wasn't playing Loki anymore, but disappeared off screen, only for another character to emerge, playful in a way but extremely vicious, up for flyting and more than flyting. This, in my dream, seemed like the real Loki, though changed, with his fierce cold smile and ever-changing form, as though he couldn't or wouldn't be one thing for more than a minute. He didn't look at me but out beyond me. He was not out to do me harm, but there was something horrendous about him, so harsh, his laughter a dreadful mocking sound, all up for trouble, no problem with it. The way his form kept morphing was deeply unpleasant,reminding me of some cubist form of Grant Morrison's lloigor. Whatever I feel, however ready I am to actively enjoy the anger* I must learn not to engage.
It is not healthy. It is indulgent. Even with an emotional support dalek.
*Dad's way. He understood anger so well, he could ride it like a wave, and then, to quote him 'you don't feel fear and pain can't touch you.' Bloody Hell, Dad.
It's a supreme commander dalek, and it too came from an anonymous sender.
Turns out both are gifts from my brother!
With so much beauty, love, and care being sent my way, I should be happy. But I'm not. Grateful yes, happy, no. I'm tearful and angry and liable to set off at anything at all. People irritate me, or more likely, I am easily irritated by people. I have no patience. I can't find it, I can't find much.
And it's wrong, thinking of those flowers and the charm and the dalek, I am wrong to be this way.
Tonight I must be better. I have a meeting at 7.30, and I can't get out of it. I wish I could. Then again it might take this awful sharpness away from me, having to think outside and beyond myself, forcing my focus to external matters,but I am really worried I am going to forget stuff. I hope someone is taking minutes.
Whimsy's turning up for two nights in Edinburgh tomorrow. It should be grand but somehow I wish it wasn't happening, as though I just want to curl up very quietly. I will tell her, we'll talk, others will join us later, we'll talk some more. Much as I enjoy her company, I have so little to say. She will understand though, when I say I can't hang around deep into the night. We have the stage show the night after, and even that seems like effort. I want silence and solitude, but suspect that what I want is not good for me, that being social is better, if I can just get rid of this foul mood.
I had a dream last night in which Tom Hiddleston wasn't playing Loki anymore, but disappeared off screen, only for another character to emerge, playful in a way but extremely vicious, up for flyting and more than flyting. This, in my dream, seemed like the real Loki, though changed, with his fierce cold smile and ever-changing form, as though he couldn't or wouldn't be one thing for more than a minute. He didn't look at me but out beyond me. He was not out to do me harm, but there was something horrendous about him, so harsh, his laughter a dreadful mocking sound, all up for trouble, no problem with it. The way his form kept morphing was deeply unpleasant,reminding me of some cubist form of Grant Morrison's lloigor. Whatever I feel, however ready I am to actively enjoy the anger* I must learn not to engage.
It is not healthy. It is indulgent. Even with an emotional support dalek.
*Dad's way. He understood anger so well, he could ride it like a wave, and then, to quote him 'you don't feel fear and pain can't touch you.' Bloody Hell, Dad.
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