Well. I have to say this: I'm grateful I got through the day without hitting anyone. It was a really close call this morning; I was so angry that things melted in front of my eyes, smouldering with the passage of my frustration. Things calmed down to a managable level once I started the routine at work; there's a beneficial numbing to the professional geography, a helpful burial of emotion that kept me moving until the end, when I could reward myself with illicit McNuggets. (Mmmm...unhealthy.)
But this morning, this morning I was so irrationally rageful that I hoped for a biological sign, the metaphorical flame-painted bush to confirm my faith. At least I calm down a little once I start bleeding. But that wasn't it, not this time. I am just stressed, pushed at the end of a toothpaste tube of sickness and lethargy that has left me honestly stunned at how much time has already elapsed without productive movement. Two of my classes will get marks tomorrow for the first time this year. My shame will devour me if I let it. Instead, I've decided to try smiling at work and pretending I give a damn. I've also upped my intake of pleasures: more knitting, more Spider Robinson and more healthy chores like laundry to take the mess out of my self-indulgence.
We'll see how I do with this tomorrow. I'm finding that these loathed glasses pretty much kill any enthusiasm I can get off the ground; they're just that ugly and they turn me effortlessly into a sick, twisted gargoyle. That doesn't do much for the old mood elevation.
Finished the new Spider Robinson/Robert Heinlein book today. I have only one thing to say: Trailer Park Boys?? Trailer Park Boys in space????
Too funny. Even if I don't have my grade eleven.
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*