Elder discovered that she can wreck my day up by spite waking younger.
I love my kids, but honestly, what the fuck, kid? What the fucking fuck?
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Three years old and newly shorn of the “only child” crown? Makes sense to me. Then again, I went through the same thing.
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These fuckers have now added “tone policing” to my vocabulary. And that makes me sad.
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I think it’s not so much that as that young kids have so few resources they can use to force adults to stop and interact with them. They have relatively few words, particularly for expressing complex feelings. They don’t have the physicality or capital to get away from a stressor. She was pissed at me, she couldn’t use her words to make me change what I was doing, and so she played the card she had.
It’s better than hitting, though, since waking a baby isn’t something she could try and pull at school.
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Tried for the second time to set up an online social security account. Second time it’s failed. I guess it’s time to make an appointment to see someone in person. Ecch. You have to make an appointment by calling the general SSA phone number. And it takes 2-4 weeks to get the appointment.
Fuck the republicans and their self-reinforcing-slash-the-budget-see-the-gubmint-doesn’t-work strategy. Gee, that works really well.
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Time to rant once again about my very minor problems that only seem big because I don’t have anything real to worry about.
So, I’m what might charitably be called “romantic” but more accurately “obsessive” (but not so far as to be a stalker). I just generally don’t like people (can you tell?), so those few people I can actually tolerate become the subjects of my fixation, until I find out they’re unavailable or uninterested, or until I find someone new or manage to shake the obsession off.
So, I’m at my sister’s wedding (to a really nice guy who makes her happy, which is kind of eerie because I’m not used to seeing her so happy, so, good for him!), and one of my sister’s best friends, a woman who I was in a play with a few years back (Guys and Dolls), is there also, helping out.
Back when this play happened, I’d asked my sister for advice about asking this young lady out, and, unfortunately, learned that she was already happily in a serious relationship. I got depressed for a few weeks, licked my wounds, and moved on.
But now, she’s single, she’s still the nice, terrific person I was attracted to all those years ago, and here we are talking, and I’m staying to feel that connection again…
And I’ve moved six hours away from her since doing that play. Someone who seems like a really good match for me, who my sister likes, who is purportedly available… and she’s so far away as to make a relationship practically impossible.
And, even knowing that, even having reassigned myself to it… I can’t get her out of my head. Again.
I’m beginning to think that at some point in a past life, I went around burning shrines to Eros, because I can’t think of any other reason my love life would suck this much otherwise.
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I hope and expect you’ll see your way through this, some way or another. And I respectfully disagree; doesn’t seem minor to me.
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Oh, I’m sure I will. I always do. It’s just painful to watch the romantic part of my nature take flight again, knowing that it’s on a ballistic trajectory and will be crashing down sooner rather than later. It’s a lovely feeling, soaring like that. Addictive, almost. But the ground always wins, in the end, and the journey up just usually isn’t worth the inevitable impact.
It’s why I’ve essentially tried to kill off that part of myself, to deny any vision of the future that imagines me with a partner, because evidence increasingly indicates that won’t happen. And yet… I can’t wish it away, no matter how I try. It’s so much a part of every story that I’ve read since I was a child; every biological imperative to ensure a next generation. Denying that that’s the future I want is like denying that I have a left arm. I can hold it behind my back for as long as I can stay focused, and get by fine (for the most part) with just the right one, but the moment something pops up to engage my instincts rather than my conscious mind, it’s clear that it was there all along, waiting for the first sign it might become useful.
It’s just frustrating. Being able to build a fortress of solitude out of pure logic, and dwell there in a mostly contented (although slightly lethargic) state… and then a wrecking ball knocks the fortress down, leaving me in the rubble with a clear view of where I really want to be, and of the seemingly insurmountable chasm between here and there.
I know I’ll get through this. Again. I just wish…
No, that’s a lie. I can’t make that wish. I wish that I could wish that my disposition towards limerence would go away. But, I can’t. I’m stuck with both it and my dependence on it.
*Sigh*. Ah, well. Dwelling on it isn’t going to help matters. I just have to wait it out.
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Is everyone’s love life in the toilet? Screw you Mercury Retrograde.
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Unless it’s been retrograde for the vast majority of the past twenty years, I don’t think I can put any blame on Mercury for the porcelain domicile my love life inhabits.
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First it causes autism, then it tanks your love life…
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You write so beautifully and descriptively about your situation, but it’s still painful to read. I wish there was some way to help you get to a different place, figuratively if not literally.
Have you contacted the woman (since you saw her at the wedding) to say ‘hi’ at all? For all you know, she might be contemplating a move to your area. Why not say something low-key like “it was great to see you again. Is there any chance you might be in my neck of the woods in the near future? I’d love to catch up.”
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Next one starts the 26th.
For those about to say it’s bunk: yeah, I know, but for 3-4 times a year, I have a 3 week block where all the random shit that crosses me has a category.
I need that.
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Huh. Low-key, you say? Not exactly my forte, but I think I can figure it out.
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I’m already worried about whether or not my dad might have an infection around his stomach tube, and he’s being a stubborn SOB about going to the doctor to get it checked.
Now my beloved dog Danny has developed a dry, wheezy cough. It could be anything… but given his advanced age, history of heart murmur and cancer… I don’t think it’s looking good. I’m trying to work up the courage to take him into the emergency vet, which in any case will eat up a chunk of my rapidly dwindling savings. (Add to that-- if Danny’s picked up an infection of some sort, my other dog Sheba will need to be checked out too.) It also means leaving my dad alone for hours, and while he seems okay at the moment, I don’t like that either.
FML.
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We’re still @the emergency vet… diagnosis is mild pneumonia. Which is very treatable! Other than congestion in his lungs he’s actually in pretty good shape. Now Dad and I have to watch Sheba like a hawk to make sure she doesn’t catch it, and yeah, this bill won’t be fun… but it’s only money, right? I was so afraid…
…which means the main problem when I get home is talking my dad into going to the doctors, or emergency if the area around the feeding tube looks inflamed. But so far… 
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I have to say that the BBS today is just full of hostility. WTF?
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Fingers crossed for you all, including you. The constant worry’s got to be having an impact on you. Sending hugs from an internet stranger
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Awww, thanks! 
So far, so good. My dog Danny has his antibiotics, which should help. The skin around Dad’s feeding tube looks better, and he’s tentatively agreed to a check up with his doctor as soon as I can make an appointment. It was just… a lot of stress from a lot of directions at once, and I was wigging out. I’m kind of embarrassed now. Thanks to all for letting me vent, and the good wishes! Last night we got some rest, with pizza and movies, and I’m better today.
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The transmission just failed in my car. The only good thing is that I was meters away from my parent’s place. But I have no money to pay for this.
Bloody fucking hell.
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