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lagilmannot cold enough for snow
leaves fallen bare limbs now
wrapped in ocean fog;
still unlike a storm
quiet within noise.
That poemish was written at oh god early Saturday morning about the view from my window, but on reflection, it was also much of me, the past week. At some point Friday morning I felt that outside pressures were overwhelming internal resistance, my tolerance for interpersonal crap was slim-to-none, and the constant digital barrage of daily life was making things worse. So I checked out, mid-day Friday. No phone, no mail, no Twitter, no Facebook, etc. I read (profic and fanfic), had cats draped over me in various poses of sleep, cleaned the apartment, drank red wine and generally got comfortable again in my brain/skin.
Every now and again, it's good to do that. Sometimes, it's essential.
This afternoon I tested the recovery-waters by traipsing around various winterfair sites in Manhattan with friends (and having an excellent lunch at Molyvos, where despite the Onion Allergy Incident, we were quite happy with both food and service). I am reminded that I have many friends who rock, and take the time to pull me out of my grumpy shell. <3.
Feeling a bit frayed around the edges - and remembering that the cats were waiting to be fed - I begged off the planned store window-viewing to come home, put my feet up, and watch the last half of the Giants game. Which, maybe not so good for my stress-levels...
Self-check: External pressure still high, but internal resistance getting back up to acceptable standards (i.e. at no point today did I want to kill anyone beyond the normal TSTL, nor did I feel any need to burrow under the covers, metaphorical or otherwise.) This is good, since the next few weeks are going to require me to be Social Meerkat rather than Burrowing Meerkat....
Oh, and I wrote some more.
"I mean, generally the only folk who come here are dead folk, people burying dead folk, and people planning to unbury dead folk. Different bait needed for all three.”
“Your world is a terrifying place,” she told him.
Even when I can't stand the rest of the world, the voices in my head still talk to me. That's...weirdly, disturbingly comforting.
leaves fallen bare limbs now
wrapped in ocean fog;
still unlike a storm
quiet within noise.
That poemish was written at oh god early Saturday morning about the view from my window, but on reflection, it was also much of me, the past week. At some point Friday morning I felt that outside pressures were overwhelming internal resistance, my tolerance for interpersonal crap was slim-to-none, and the constant digital barrage of daily life was making things worse. So I checked out, mid-day Friday. No phone, no mail, no Twitter, no Facebook, etc. I read (profic and fanfic), had cats draped over me in various poses of sleep, cleaned the apartment, drank red wine and generally got comfortable again in my brain/skin.
Every now and again, it's good to do that. Sometimes, it's essential.
This afternoon I tested the recovery-waters by traipsing around various winterfair sites in Manhattan with friends (and having an excellent lunch at Molyvos, where despite the Onion Allergy Incident, we were quite happy with both food and service). I am reminded that I have many friends who rock, and take the time to pull me out of my grumpy shell. <3.
Feeling a bit frayed around the edges - and remembering that the cats were waiting to be fed - I begged off the planned store window-viewing to come home, put my feet up, and watch the last half of the Giants game. Which, maybe not so good for my stress-levels...
Self-check: External pressure still high, but internal resistance getting back up to acceptable standards (i.e. at no point today did I want to kill anyone beyond the normal TSTL, nor did I feel any need to burrow under the covers, metaphorical or otherwise.) This is good, since the next few weeks are going to require me to be Social Meerkat rather than Burrowing Meerkat....
Oh, and I wrote some more.
"I mean, generally the only folk who come here are dead folk, people burying dead folk, and people planning to unbury dead folk. Different bait needed for all three.”
“Your world is a terrifying place,” she told him.
Even when I can't stand the rest of the world, the voices in my head still talk to me. That's...weirdly, disturbingly comforting.
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no subject
Date: 2012-12-10 12:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-10 05:17 am (UTC):-)
no subject
Date: 2012-12-10 12:39 pm (UTC)(then again, I like ouzo, so I'm no-one to talk...)
no subject
Date: 2012-12-10 11:23 pm (UTC)