DormantSpore of Sleet

[ismo]

I'm not in the greatest state of mind. Sometimes, I'm fine, having a perfectly acceptable day, and then I just crash. And end up, as I am now, eating potato chips and watching a very cheesy Hallmark movie about . . . a WRITER. It's hilarious. She has been sent on a BOOK TOUR. This is always happening in movies. The publishers of first-time writers send them on book tours, and they do readings before packed rooms in very posh-looking bookstores and other spaces! And they have a publicist who accompanies them on the tour and helps them with stuff. And then they get reviewed in the New York Times Magazine. I'm laughing so much. Except when I'm crying. The only realistic thing about it is that there's a giant blizzard. Now, that I HAVE experienced. I was just reminiscing today about all the times I went to Boskone and ended up on the Mass Pike in a giant blizzard. Luckily, I can only eat a few potato chips, or risk having my stomach kill me. My stomach also saves me from drinking as much as I wish I could. Alas! Thus one problem preserves me from another.

Pre-crash, I went to see my therapist. I'm quite concerned about her. She can barely walk at this point, and has to have hip surgery next month. I hope she doesn't fall down before then! She suggested that I not take it personally when I have a bad day, because basically everyone is having bad days pretty often, and it's not anyone's fault. I think she's probably right.

It was sunny again, and we took a walk by the small lake. The sunlight glittered on the ice and drifted snow. The lake is well frozen over at last, and there are a few ice shacks out and people fishing. We even walked out on the ice a little way. I'm sure we could have gone farther, because there were people frolicking with dogs and children, but the surface seemed a little mushy in the sunshine, and I'm a big chicken when it comes to falling into an ice-covered body of water.

ETA I forgot to say that I woke up quite a few times last night. One of those times, I had been dreaming that someone handed me a copy of their new translation of St. Augustine's "The City of God." Only they'd titled it "City of Lanes" because it was all about the rules and how everyone had to stay in their own lane. I was tremendously indignant, even though I'm not fond of Augustine, and said loudly "Oh, that's ridiculous. There's a lot more to it than that." I woke myself up. And then lay there thinking that has to be the dumbest reason for waking up in the middle of the night EVER--because someone in a dream mistranslated Augustine. I give up.

Comments

therapist's right on the money

[siriosa]

we do what we can. we wish it were more or better. we're all decompensating, bc :: gestures widely ::

love that you woke yourself up bc somebody in your dream mistranslated that old scamp. your brain is a wonderland.

Re: therapist's right on the money

[ismo]

Ha ha--thanks for that. It is indeed, although sometimes it's like Barliman Butterbur's as described by Gandalf: "thing wanted always buried." The thought occurred to me as I contemplated this that there is a direct though crooked line from "The City of God" to "The Ministry for the Future." But I can't prove it's true without re-reading them both, which won't happen any time soon.

[oracne]

I am having A Day today in which concentration is out the window and off to Zanzibar.

[ismo]

Well, at least it went somewhere interesting!