still angry: extreme discomfort, missing the zine fest, what health is
Usually my anger resets overnight--yesterday, I was still angry. I know anger exists to help me see when something is wrong, so I can take care of myself. But I think it's gone a bit haywire. I don't enjoy it.
I need a break from human folly. People's assumptions, bad behavior of every kind, repeatedly not following thru on promises, too many mixed messages, uncaring dismissal, incorrect judgments, all the capitalism stuff, people thinking they earned things that were given to them by chance / accident of birth, punchy drunkenness, dogs who bump me over and over and shed their fur on my dress, waitstaff who seem annoyed I'm not ordering a drink or appetizer. People who need to feel smarter than everyone else and think testing well makes them a genius. People who call others selfish while being selfish. People who call a scramble an omelette. I could go on.
Yesterday at a party, I told someone that I finally learned how to live in Las Vegas during the summer. She asked me how I do it. Ming answered for me immediately, "Air conditioner." The answer is actually complex--it has to do with the small portable air conditioner in the bedroom, yeah, but also a new pace, a new mentality of not needing to go out every day for stimulation, different relationships, different feelings about home, community, commitment... I want to tell people about it, especially if they ask, so I was miffed that Ming had answered the question for me.
This is the guy who drives me wherever I want to go, including other states, who is endlessly patient with me, peels my hardboiled eggs, washes and refills my water bottles, buys me whatever I want, gets mad at me approximately never, is totally open to all my friendships, even the ill-fated ones, listens to me, loves me, treats me as special, learns my preferences so he can cater to them, and basically helps me get and do anything I want, at all times. If he gets excited and jumps in to answer a question that was asked of me, once in a blue moon, no problem.
Yet after the party, I snapped at him about it, then immediately felt bad for hurting him. He's kind and helpful all day, every day--his heart is golden. It's not fair that most of the things I'm angry about can't be talked with, so I oversnap at him. I love him. This is the person totally on my side. It's not nice of me to snap at him, but also not in my best interest. Sorry, pump.
So other people are pissing me off in countless ways I wont get into, but I'm pissing myself off also. I'm too sensitive to meanness and injustice--also too sensitive to sound and touch, uncomfortable. I didn't know discomfort could get so bad. I used to think extreme discomfort was pain. But now I know--up to a 7 or 8, discomfort can wear me down until I feel like I could scream or I'm losing my mind.
Ming said travel comes from travail. People seem to think we're on an idyllic journey. It's true--the view from these huge windows is incredible. The house is spacious, clean, and has pretty art. But travel is work too. I can learn a lot really fast, but there are growing pains.
Tomorrow is San Francisco Zine Fest, but I'm staying home to rest, heal, and enjoy my sabbath. I'm thinking of the times I've been there, over the years, at a previous location once, but mostly the Ferry Building at Golden Gate Park. Last time, we went with a friend and former employee who smoked weed outside and bought a sticker that said, "I want all cats to like me best." Zine fests are special, but I need to regain my peace more than anything.
As we were saying goodbye yesterday, my loved friend told me, "I'm glad you're so healthy!" I tried not to look at her like she was crazy. I think she was confusing happy with healthy? Or animated with happy, then happy with healthy. It's true--I could walk around her house, eat a little food, smile, listen, nod my head, converse a bit. Is that health? It was a good day for those things.
"What's health?" I asked Ming.
"It's a bar in the upper right hand corner of your screen," he said.
I realize that some people would kill to have my worst day. Some people who are paralyzed, or have chronic fatigue so bad they have to lie down in the dark room all day, people in incredible pain. I can do most of the things I need to do. Even when I get really lightheaded and low energy and think I might pass out or die, I can think, talk, write, eat, walk a little ways, use the bathroom by myself, dress myself.
Maybe I am healthy? I know it's relative. I'm confused. I'm healthy enough to complain. Thank you for listening. Here we are with friends in Sacramento yesterday.
I need a break from human folly. People's assumptions, bad behavior of every kind, repeatedly not following thru on promises, too many mixed messages, uncaring dismissal, incorrect judgments, all the capitalism stuff, people thinking they earned things that were given to them by chance / accident of birth, punchy drunkenness, dogs who bump me over and over and shed their fur on my dress, waitstaff who seem annoyed I'm not ordering a drink or appetizer. People who need to feel smarter than everyone else and think testing well makes them a genius. People who call others selfish while being selfish. People who call a scramble an omelette. I could go on.
Yesterday at a party, I told someone that I finally learned how to live in Las Vegas during the summer. She asked me how I do it. Ming answered for me immediately, "Air conditioner." The answer is actually complex--it has to do with the small portable air conditioner in the bedroom, yeah, but also a new pace, a new mentality of not needing to go out every day for stimulation, different relationships, different feelings about home, community, commitment... I want to tell people about it, especially if they ask, so I was miffed that Ming had answered the question for me.
This is the guy who drives me wherever I want to go, including other states, who is endlessly patient with me, peels my hardboiled eggs, washes and refills my water bottles, buys me whatever I want, gets mad at me approximately never, is totally open to all my friendships, even the ill-fated ones, listens to me, loves me, treats me as special, learns my preferences so he can cater to them, and basically helps me get and do anything I want, at all times. If he gets excited and jumps in to answer a question that was asked of me, once in a blue moon, no problem.
Yet after the party, I snapped at him about it, then immediately felt bad for hurting him. He's kind and helpful all day, every day--his heart is golden. It's not fair that most of the things I'm angry about can't be talked with, so I oversnap at him. I love him. This is the person totally on my side. It's not nice of me to snap at him, but also not in my best interest. Sorry, pump.
So other people are pissing me off in countless ways I wont get into, but I'm pissing myself off also. I'm too sensitive to meanness and injustice--also too sensitive to sound and touch, uncomfortable. I didn't know discomfort could get so bad. I used to think extreme discomfort was pain. But now I know--up to a 7 or 8, discomfort can wear me down until I feel like I could scream or I'm losing my mind.
Ming said travel comes from travail. People seem to think we're on an idyllic journey. It's true--the view from these huge windows is incredible. The house is spacious, clean, and has pretty art. But travel is work too. I can learn a lot really fast, but there are growing pains.
Tomorrow is San Francisco Zine Fest, but I'm staying home to rest, heal, and enjoy my sabbath. I'm thinking of the times I've been there, over the years, at a previous location once, but mostly the Ferry Building at Golden Gate Park. Last time, we went with a friend and former employee who smoked weed outside and bought a sticker that said, "I want all cats to like me best." Zine fests are special, but I need to regain my peace more than anything.
As we were saying goodbye yesterday, my loved friend told me, "I'm glad you're so healthy!" I tried not to look at her like she was crazy. I think she was confusing happy with healthy? Or animated with happy, then happy with healthy. It's true--I could walk around her house, eat a little food, smile, listen, nod my head, converse a bit. Is that health? It was a good day for those things.
"What's health?" I asked Ming.
"It's a bar in the upper right hand corner of your screen," he said.
I realize that some people would kill to have my worst day. Some people who are paralyzed, or have chronic fatigue so bad they have to lie down in the dark room all day, people in incredible pain. I can do most of the things I need to do. Even when I get really lightheaded and low energy and think I might pass out or die, I can think, talk, write, eat, walk a little ways, use the bathroom by myself, dress myself.
Maybe I am healthy? I know it's relative. I'm confused. I'm healthy enough to complain. Thank you for listening. Here we are with friends in Sacramento yesterday.
posted by Laura-Marie @ 2:28 AM
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