February 4, 1998

Soft Ash

Rage tastes like ashes in the morning. Anger only tiredness. It's easy, too easy, to wallow in despair. Far, far easier to believe and support the constant entropy than believe there's any way to fight it. To pull it over my head like a blanket and go back to sleep. Or just drown in it. Okay, if John would only let me. Okay... realistically, if *I* would only let me...

So I called the contact place, and they'll have my lenses any time I want them, made an appointment in April. I have an appointment for the Pap Smear the Thursday I'm back from San Francisco. With much help from Al and Trip from the Horde, I got the table to work under Netscape which mis-interprets the pixel settings and does just fine with percentages, which, luckily, IE3 will take as well. IE3 was objecting to column spanning. So. That works the way I want it to, now. The pregnancy test is in the car and I'll do it this evening to eliminate one uncertainty.

Yeah. Inactivity is easier. But it feels a lot better to kill the list decisively, even if it takes a stick to lever me up and out and going again.

John bought me a mocha this morning and I'm remembering my painkillers and while it's not helping yet, it's going to. Takes a few hours to kick in.

Luckly Raven kicked in well in advance. That boy could make a stone laugh by finding the child within it and getting it to play, to fly... even if it were only for a single set of skips across a lake surface. He was cheerful, detailed, and proliferate in his email.

Okay. And Trip. Trip helped out by being helpful and useful and patient with me, and that helped out as much as John being helpful and useful and patient with me.

So... <deep breath> on with the testing.


That's good, to just sink into the work and be a part of it and flow with it. Lots of simple checklists and I go through them and do things and they're done. That's neat.

Maya is doing a good job of urging me to do another Faber story. I still should likely finish the first, but the second is shaping up nicely.

That was one interesting conversation I had with Raven, about writing and about writing from that self-destructive, depressed, cynical side of myself. There are depths upon depths of nastiness and it's easy to dip into the Dark Lagoon and build something dark and deep, but that only feeds my own darknesses, my own rage, all to no good reason. I don't like being depressed or angry. So the best way to avoid that is to avoid expressing it too much. Not give it much leash.

Pain is so easy. Nine Inch Nails has this song that begins with "I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel..." and it is there, it's universal and there's so much pain already it's just boring to be angstful some more. I've pampered that side of myself too much, to my own detriment, so it's time to just not anymore. I know it's not PC to be angry at depression, especially another's, but I am angry. *wry grin* Angry at the waste, angry at the self-belittlement, angry at the loss of time and talent and energy and creation. I can love someone without having to love the fact that something is eating them alive.

Including myself.

The evening should be good, as the Turkish woman that led John's Mom and Dad around Turkey will be giving a talk on her home country tonight, and she seems to be a very engaging speaker. I have to do some exercise tonight or I'll kill someone. I'm already leery enough of my moods as it is. It would be really funny if some of that moodiness actually is PMS, then I never had to worry about the missing period stuff.

I'll let John cook. <grin> That should be cool.

© 1998 by Liralen Li.

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