Thursday, February 23, 2017

waiting for weekend

Yeah, I'm glad this week is nearly done. It's the end of 2+ weeks of working too hard and having my head waaaaaaay too much in my work.

And, based on how I feel this afternoon compared to how I felt this morning compared to how I felt yesterday: yes, I do think I may have had a 24-hour bug pass through my system without being able to gain much traction; the muscle aches are far less than they were (though that could be the better chair) and I have less of a feeling of Impending Doom that I did yesterday.

Though I will say right now I'm kind of done with dealing with people and oh how glad I am this Saturday the only interactions I should have will be with friendly small shopkeepers and a waiter or waitress.

There was a meeting - never mind what about, it's not important - that I very nearly forgot. Anyway, at the meeting, someone in the meeting expressed a sudden burst of what I thought was surprising rancor. No, not at ME, it wasn't a meeting about me, but still - it was unpleasant and unsettling and derailed a meeting that should have gone faster and more smoothly. At several points I took my eyeglasses off and massaged the bridge of my nose, which is a socially-acceptable way of expressing, "This is my last nerve and you are getting on it." It also serves as a useful displacement behavior when my more-emotional side is threatening to make me tear up.

But yeah. Kind of done right now. I'm going to go home and do a workout (after all) and then I guess I HAVE to grade but ugh. I really just want an evening off.

I dunno. I'm just tired and not feeling well earlier this week made things worse. What I kind of want to do is wrap up in something soft and fluffy and read something that is soft and fluffy.

One thing I find as I get older and more immersed (or so it seems) in my work: for my downtime a lot of the time I want easy things. I tell myself I "should" be reading more of the great books or more challenging things, but when I go to get into bed to read I want things that are lighter and more fun and that don't make me depressed about the world. And I know, some have decried the desire for "entertainment as comfort" as a symptom of a decadent society - and it's all fitted in with the Why Won't These Kids Grow Up, With Their Clinging To Cartoons and Action Figures but I don't know, in recent years adulthood seems to have made distinctly unappealing and if like me, you're not a drinker-of-alcohol or a consumer-of-tobacco or involved in an adult-type relationship with another consenting adult....well, there's precious little to recommend it. I know I've bitterly remarked the only good thing about adulthood is you have a bigger allowance to spend (but some people even don't have that, though I'd hope they'd at least have the comfort of a significant other, then). But yeah.

(I also question whether my generation and the one after it have become softer and more self-indulged; after all, Dickens was the pulp-fiction of its day and people eagerly awaited the next installment, and yes, the sentence structure may be more complex and the vocabulary deeper than, say, the typical superhero comic, but still, the emotions were by and large similar....)

I dunno. I want to be that person who reads Kirkegaard or something but I also know I have precious little brainspace and time for such things. (And confession: I'm afraid I've gotten dumber in recent years and might not understand it.)


purlewe said...

I often think I am going to read some really important books. (or should I say Important Books?) and then I end up reading what makes me happy. B'c reading Important Books sometimes is more work and reading something that makes me happy is one of the few things I have left. Every once in awhile I will read some non-fiction of the "this is important lessons in the world" variety, but I always end up going back to books that make me happy. And lately things that make me happy are in short supply. knitting, reading, and cooking. That is about it. So I hear you.

Lynn said...

I have a luxury of time that most people don't have and yet I still feel that I don't have enough time to read all the books I want to read - both "fluff" and serious.