Hiding.
I have cocoa, cookies, and some leftover cookie batter.
I have an overdue paper I'm picking away at by proposing my zaniest theory (the theory is called "pure dumb luck" or "delimited options" -- historians, how mad am I?). It's guaranteed to get completely shot apart by my professor, but after the shitty week I've had, I don't care.
I have the next chapter of Out Of Bounds rewritten and (probably) ready for reposting. I have WG here reading the Watchman. (I figured he'd better read the novel first or he'd be bewildered and frustrated by the movie.) I'm making minor edits to the epilogue. The music for the short program is queued up.
I have two movies on hand. I am fully equipped to ignore all RL disasters for the weekend. If all this doesn't work, there is also popcorn.
And oh, look, this quiz result surprised me with a writer that I...
a) know, and
b) respect.
How unexpected.
And now... dive! *The yellow Icarus submarine burbles beneath the surface of reality*
I have an overdue paper I'm picking away at by proposing my zaniest theory (the theory is called "pure dumb luck" or "delimited options" -- historians, how mad am I?). It's guaranteed to get completely shot apart by my professor, but after the shitty week I've had, I don't care.
I have the next chapter of Out Of Bounds rewritten and (probably) ready for reposting. I have WG here reading the Watchman. (I figured he'd better read the novel first or he'd be bewildered and frustrated by the movie.) I'm making minor edits to the epilogue. The music for the short program is queued up.
I have two movies on hand. I am fully equipped to ignore all RL disasters for the weekend. If all this doesn't work, there is also popcorn.
And oh, look, this quiz result surprised me with a writer that I...
a) know, and
b) respect.
How unexpected.
![]() | I am:Ursula K. LeGuinPerhaps the most admired writing talent in the science fiction field. |
And now... dive! *The yellow Icarus submarine burbles beneath the surface of reality*

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*hugs*
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Just like you don't give someone your meds who hasn't been prescribed them, you don't give your therapist's advice to someone who doesn't require it.
I have had a lovely week. I've spent time with WG, worked on Out Of Bounds, talked to supportive and lovely friends, calmly flunked a test, finished all the responsibilities I could, and have just one last paper to write.
What I have are crappy circumstances. Which I can do nothing about until Monday so I'm doing what I can to ignore them.
You didn't know that, did you? This is why therapists talk to their patients first before handing out free advice.
Irritated,
Icarus
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I'm sorry if I came off as patronizing or annoying. I've been keeping an eye on your posts, and my impression was that you weren't having an easy time of it.
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Circumstances suck right now, but WG staying home from work has helped. Most of his unhappiness came from nastiness at the shipyard, gossip and politics and ugly stuff since his layoff worsened by his injuries (sympathetic they are not). At home, he's a little bored, but at least he can just deal with the injuries.
It's nice having a little time off with him here and I enjoyed taking him to his doctors appointments. I'm trying not to stress too much about grades that are over and done with that I can't change, and having both my history class finals in has eased my mind a bit. I do still have Sanskrit and the 15-page paper. I'll get those done tomorrow and turned in Monday. If they're accepted late, they're accepted late. If they aren't, then at least I've done what I could.
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I'm trying not to stress too much about grades that are over and done with that I can't change.
That's the main reason for my good mood today. I finally decided yesterday that expending so much energy trying to fix problems I worked up in the academic year of 2007-2008 was stopping me from doing anything at all productive in my present situation. So I just let it go and decided to move on from there. Hit the reset button, so to speak.
That sort of pragmatism felt surprisingly good - you've got the right idea, there. Of course it sucks having to make that kind of decision, but... you can't change what you can't change, right?
So I'm starting another semester on Monday. First class up: Indian culture, and Indian-European relations. I'm way excited about it :D
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It just sounded like it all piled on at once, and wasn't helped by the fact that one of his injuries prevents him from doing something he really enjoys. Which sucks, obviously.
And gossip stuff at the shipyard... people talk about women being fickle and gossip-y and mean to each other. But in my experience, men are just as bad, once they get into it.
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I need to distract myself from wanting to put my fist through a window -- and don't think I haven't done it. I cracked the windshield of my car from the inside once.
Attempts to kick my tail turn into mutual tail-kicking. My therapist knew not to go there.
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Mostly, asskicking is the only thing that works on me. If people cut me slack, I tend to take shameless advantage, even if I hate myself for it the whole time.
I had a boyfriend once, who put his fist through a window in frustration. He needed seventeen stitches. I never could understand that impulse... but then again, we're all different, right?
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If people cut me slack, I tend to take shameless advantage, even if I hate myself for it the whole time.
Oh. I'm very different. I'm the sort of person who'll starve while keeping
my pridea good face on things because I feel I'm responsible for whatever mess I'm in. It takes some effort to admit things aren't going well. Almost impossible for me to ask for or accept help.Mostly, asskicking is the only thing that works on me.
*nods* Ass-kicking brings out the worst in me, while a kind word can completely dissolve my worst moods, like a sugar cube in water. I can be in an utter rage with broken Christmas ornaments all around me, and WG can say, "What's wrong, honey?" and I'll dissolve into tears, all the anger gone.
I had a boyfriend once, who put his fist through a window in frustration. He needed seventeen stitches. I never could understand that impulse...
The moment of destruction is a release, a relief to do something, even something destructive. It often shocks one out of the temper. I discovered when I was nine that I needed noise to get me through it when I was furious. I got a wooden box, put broken glass in it, sealed it shut, and then would kick it around making a huge racket.
When I was older I collected glass jars and methodically smashed them against a wall. Then just as methodically swept up the glass.
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And since I can't edit (the joys of having a free account, yay!) I'll also say that the thing about the impulse came out wrong. I do understand the anger impulse. I'm just the kind of person who quietly seethes and then explodes. Which tends to be more destructive when it all comes out, because usually I'll have bottled it up so long that I can't use it constructively.
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WG called me a quitter. I told him I wasn't, I was just feeling down. He kept calling me a quitter. I told him calmly (think David Banner) please, stop, I'm getting angry, I'm not a quitter. He kept calling me a quitter -- I swore and kicked the windshield.
Er. Then he got out. I, um, took off my heels and threw them towards him when he was 20 ft away, shouting at him to come back here and finish the fight. I missed by a mile, kind of on purpose. *facepalm* It wasn't a shining moment in our relationship. He's fortunately very forgiving.
I'm working on it. If I can distract myself before I get tight, I can head it off at the pass.
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And Jesus, sweetie, the last thing I intended to suggest was that you needed a swift kick to the rear. Honestly, I think that's the LAST THING IN THE WORLD you would possibly need. My impression is that you're absolutely passionate about your studies and I admire you for that, and your ability to make the best of a bad situation, and work through the difficulties.
I wish I could offer you some methods of distraction, but I don't know what helps. I don't suppose knitting patterns would help, would they? That's my best way of distracting myself from the world.
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Instead I get all riled up and I see myself shout-y and chair-throw-y and can't stop, even when the cat's run under the bed. The guys in high school used to deliberately piss me off, just because they enjoyed the show.
I wish I could offer you some methods of distraction, but I don't know what helps.
I'm going to watch Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid tonight.
Also, writing fic helps a lot. A kind of immersion therapy. :)
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Explanation: I kicked it from the passenger seat.
I also ripped a door off its hinges at Bally's spa where I worked, put my fist through a stairway window, smashed pickle jars from a project I was working on, threw a platter out my apartment window, broke the glass in the picture behind the couch when I threw my shoe at it... my Buddhist teachers gave me Vajrasattva practice to do, which has to do with the purification of anger.
I've managed to be pretty zen-like up until ten minutes ago. *breathes* *reaches for a distraction*
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The difference between you and me is that mine are entirely of my own making, while yours are not at all your fault.
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I took the test and got James Tiptree. Who was actually a woman. I've never heard of this person, but apparently she was some SF hotshot. *shrugs*
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But I have hot chocolate and a warm blanket and my DVDs and I intend to continue to totally ignore the world. Go us!