greenstorm (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
greenstorm) wrote2022-07-07 09:29 pm
greenstorm) wrote2022-07-07 09:29 pm
Entry tags:
Ungrateful
Well. I'm not handling people well right now, and people are not handling me so well right now either.
I was going to dig into the details of fostering connection through times of stress including accepting polite fictions, reaching out after conflict, and eliding emotions, but I'm setting that sort of thing down for a bit. There are 7.8 billion people in the world, plenty to analyze everything including expected structures and their own behaviour. I'm taking a vacation from all that, from looking at every interaction with an eye to how I can do better customer service in it and keep folks coming back.
Instead, though, maybe I'll just be upset and annoyed and grieving and going on with my life having those feelings and not write a whole book about it. I'll cut down a bunch of thistles (done) and look at the delicate baby pink of my rhubarb-and-rose mead (nottingham yeast) and eagerly await more tomato flowers opening.
I'll wander around my house with my hair dripping but bug-spray-free and my elbow full of bugbites (I missed spraying the corner of my shirt with bug spray) and slowly make my way up to bed.
Maybe I'll plan my to-do list for the next couple days.
Before I do I guess I should do my bedtime post. What did I say last night? I should seek after love instead of gratitude, it fits the shape of me better? Oof.
I was going to dig into the details of fostering connection through times of stress including accepting polite fictions, reaching out after conflict, and eliding emotions, but I'm setting that sort of thing down for a bit. There are 7.8 billion people in the world, plenty to analyze everything including expected structures and their own behaviour. I'm taking a vacation from all that, from looking at every interaction with an eye to how I can do better customer service in it and keep folks coming back.
Instead, though, maybe I'll just be upset and annoyed and grieving and going on with my life having those feelings and not write a whole book about it. I'll cut down a bunch of thistles (done) and look at the delicate baby pink of my rhubarb-and-rose mead (nottingham yeast) and eagerly await more tomato flowers opening.
I'll wander around my house with my hair dripping but bug-spray-free and my elbow full of bugbites (I missed spraying the corner of my shirt with bug spray) and slowly make my way up to bed.
Maybe I'll plan my to-do list for the next couple days.
Before I do I guess I should do my bedtime post. What did I say last night? I should seek after love instead of gratitude, it fits the shape of me better? Oof.