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Mandatory Analysis
Feb. 26th, 2010 09:43 amThat's kind of interesting. I could probably count the number of times I've been that angry in my life on my fingers and toes, at least if I had a clear enough memory to catalogue them. I don't get angry all that often-- and it generally happens right around ovulation. I'm not sure that invalidates the anger, but it's noteworthy.
I definitely feel a little sick after something that intense. Writing in that state is fun; I spent a lot of time learning to swear (and still am doing) and it's something that feels exhilerating (do I sense the word exile in there?) to do as I imagine windsurfing might feel good to do, or maybe storm kayaking. Something like that. Afterwards, though, there's a sort of dull ick. Among other things, I hate feeling that self-righteous-- it tends to come with fury, for me. For another, it's not about doing anything, it's just something going on inside me-- and I don't like wasting effort in that way. I will spend tons of time and emotional energy doing something which only accomplishes making me happy (( Read more... )) but spending all that effort on something which neither fixes the problem nor makes me happy? Eh. If you spend time on something it is you, and I don't want that to be me.
Given that, I don't have a lot more to say on the subject. I do, however, have an interaction with Angus which I need to relate.( Read more... )
There were two big things here, though, for me. One is that my relationship with Angus is obviously not based on wanting him to have perfect knowledge of me. When I was little I used to imagine there was a watcher outside my window, a formless presence that just knew I existed, knew what I did-- and that made my life worthwhile. I think I transferred that a little (or a lot) to my other relationships. But now I do my things for myself, and I am loved for myself, and that mysterious 'myself' has receeded further from my understanding and well outside the scope of this interaction to perturb. For someone to misunderstand my actions-- hey, happens all the time. I don't think it means he loves me less or our relationship is founded on fiction. I would have thought that, in the past.
The second thing I have come to know and accept with this is simply that, well, this is my sense of humour. Something that makes me laugh out loud will be an awful comment on the human condition, it will lift my brain up and shake it around, it is the transformation of tears into an odd kind of joy. I laugh when I'm happy, but I rarely laugh at the sort of thing most people pass around as funny-- and just as frequently I find something laugh-out-loud hilarious that no one else seems capable of 'getting'. Well, it appears this ain't going away.
So there we go.
I definitely feel a little sick after something that intense. Writing in that state is fun; I spent a lot of time learning to swear (and still am doing) and it's something that feels exhilerating (do I sense the word exile in there?) to do as I imagine windsurfing might feel good to do, or maybe storm kayaking. Something like that. Afterwards, though, there's a sort of dull ick. Among other things, I hate feeling that self-righteous-- it tends to come with fury, for me. For another, it's not about doing anything, it's just something going on inside me-- and I don't like wasting effort in that way. I will spend tons of time and emotional energy doing something which only accomplishes making me happy (( Read more... )) but spending all that effort on something which neither fixes the problem nor makes me happy? Eh. If you spend time on something it is you, and I don't want that to be me.
Given that, I don't have a lot more to say on the subject. I do, however, have an interaction with Angus which I need to relate.( Read more... )
There were two big things here, though, for me. One is that my relationship with Angus is obviously not based on wanting him to have perfect knowledge of me. When I was little I used to imagine there was a watcher outside my window, a formless presence that just knew I existed, knew what I did-- and that made my life worthwhile. I think I transferred that a little (or a lot) to my other relationships. But now I do my things for myself, and I am loved for myself, and that mysterious 'myself' has receeded further from my understanding and well outside the scope of this interaction to perturb. For someone to misunderstand my actions-- hey, happens all the time. I don't think it means he loves me less or our relationship is founded on fiction. I would have thought that, in the past.
The second thing I have come to know and accept with this is simply that, well, this is my sense of humour. Something that makes me laugh out loud will be an awful comment on the human condition, it will lift my brain up and shake it around, it is the transformation of tears into an odd kind of joy. I laugh when I'm happy, but I rarely laugh at the sort of thing most people pass around as funny-- and just as frequently I find something laugh-out-loud hilarious that no one else seems capable of 'getting'. Well, it appears this ain't going away.
So there we go.
