Life? Don't talk to me about life.
Dec. 4th, 2014 09:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
localfreakIt is a true fact in life that whenever I start to seem remotely adult and confident either something looms on the horizon to make me a gibbering stress-wreck hiding my whitening hair under a rather Drop-Dead-Fred dye job (it was called 'Ultra-Violet' but came out a lot more Gryffindor-at-Night) or I managed to make a total and utter wet fool of myself and get caught blubbing like a baby and needing to be comforted.
Or both. Mostly both, let's be real. So there's a big conference in work I am nightmaring about until it happens on Monday after which I intend to get on with the business of Advent in a way my poor wobbling brain simply can't cope with until it is over. And my goal for the next month will be not to be in the room when people debate/discuss/argue anything- and certainly not contribute EVEN IF I FEEL THAT SOMEONE IS WRONG because all that happens is I argue my point as sanely as I can manage, walk out, and burst into toddler-choking sobs and frighten the horses- or, in this case, the workmen who came to the window to tell me they'd managed to fix the pipe.
Twenty-fucking-eight years old and I still can't behave like a fucking adult.
The way I react to argument/debate/whatever you want to call it is so totally out of proportion that I'm sure a casual onlooker would assume some terrible dark things in my childhood- of which, of course, there is nothing. I have always been thus. If I hear a man and a woman shouting at one another in the street I hunker down as if shots will be fired and feel sick and shaking. When Question Time comes on the radio I have to leave the room and nothing sends me so swiftly to bed like the political debates of Newsnight following the 10 o'clock news.
Anyway. Enough.
Went a bit mad online on the Christmas present front fuelled by a worried concern that there are still people I didn't have anything- or enough- for, and that some of said people are those who require more organisation because their presents need to be posted/delivered. Of course now I am stuck waiting for parcels and there is still a possibility that part of one present will not arrive in time for posting but at least I've tried.
I must confess I went a bit mad for myself- said online shop had all of Hilary Green's Follies series as part of a book offer- but even without the offer, were selling them for £2 each as opposed to other shops' £5.99 each. So I may have bought myself a Christmas present. Hee hee.
I've got Mum's big present hidden away at Nanny's but I have a plan for a little something for Christmas morning if only I can concoct some believable way of getting out and buying the damn things! But, as said RE Conference, until I have survived that higher brainpower is lacking for various reasons- the stress of 95 delegates who need organising, feeding, watering, presentations loading, tables re-arranging etc etc etc, but also the conf. is on a topic that is incredibly upsetting in its own right- to me personally- and so checking all the content is really not helping my wobbly brain.
Reading Stephen Fry's More Fool Me very good so far, am hoping to get it finished before Saturday as I'm in the library then. I still have three more books out to get through- including the new Anne Rice- although I had to send the new Ben Elton back unread as I didn't get round to it. Did read Sheila Hancock's Miss Carter's War which I requested partially for the interesting blurb but also for the amusement factor that somehow no editor had thought writing about a post-war experience of a woman called Marguerite Carter who had worked for the secret service during the war 'Where have I heard that name before?' Obviously demonstrating the whole comics and recent film sensations have passed by some corners of the country (*cough* PEGGY CARTER *cough cough cough*. But the book- it wasn't like that at all. I COULDN'T STOP CRYING. I learnt so much about the social and cultural understanding and impacts of the war in Britain on people and their lives but it is most certainly not a read in the vein of the aforementioned Hilary Green's books. Miss Carter's War BREAKS MY HEART AND STOMPS ON IT IN A MISANTHROPIC FOREVER.
So: good book.
Or both. Mostly both, let's be real. So there's a big conference in work I am nightmaring about until it happens on Monday after which I intend to get on with the business of Advent in a way my poor wobbling brain simply can't cope with until it is over. And my goal for the next month will be not to be in the room when people debate/discuss/argue anything- and certainly not contribute EVEN IF I FEEL THAT SOMEONE IS WRONG because all that happens is I argue my point as sanely as I can manage, walk out, and burst into toddler-choking sobs and frighten the horses- or, in this case, the workmen who came to the window to tell me they'd managed to fix the pipe.
Twenty-fucking-eight years old and I still can't behave like a fucking adult.
The way I react to argument/debate/whatever you want to call it is so totally out of proportion that I'm sure a casual onlooker would assume some terrible dark things in my childhood- of which, of course, there is nothing. I have always been thus. If I hear a man and a woman shouting at one another in the street I hunker down as if shots will be fired and feel sick and shaking. When Question Time comes on the radio I have to leave the room and nothing sends me so swiftly to bed like the political debates of Newsnight following the 10 o'clock news.
Anyway. Enough.
Went a bit mad online on the Christmas present front fuelled by a worried concern that there are still people I didn't have anything- or enough- for, and that some of said people are those who require more organisation because their presents need to be posted/delivered. Of course now I am stuck waiting for parcels and there is still a possibility that part of one present will not arrive in time for posting but at least I've tried.
I must confess I went a bit mad for myself- said online shop had all of Hilary Green's Follies series as part of a book offer- but even without the offer, were selling them for £2 each as opposed to other shops' £5.99 each. So I may have bought myself a Christmas present. Hee hee.
I've got Mum's big present hidden away at Nanny's but I have a plan for a little something for Christmas morning if only I can concoct some believable way of getting out and buying the damn things! But, as said RE Conference, until I have survived that higher brainpower is lacking for various reasons- the stress of 95 delegates who need organising, feeding, watering, presentations loading, tables re-arranging etc etc etc, but also the conf. is on a topic that is incredibly upsetting in its own right- to me personally- and so checking all the content is really not helping my wobbly brain.
Reading Stephen Fry's More Fool Me very good so far, am hoping to get it finished before Saturday as I'm in the library then. I still have three more books out to get through- including the new Anne Rice- although I had to send the new Ben Elton back unread as I didn't get round to it. Did read Sheila Hancock's Miss Carter's War which I requested partially for the interesting blurb but also for the amusement factor that somehow no editor had thought writing about a post-war experience of a woman called Marguerite Carter who had worked for the secret service during the war 'Where have I heard that name before?' Obviously demonstrating the whole comics and recent film sensations have passed by some corners of the country (*cough* PEGGY CARTER *cough cough cough*. But the book- it wasn't like that at all. I COULDN'T STOP CRYING. I learnt so much about the social and cultural understanding and impacts of the war in Britain on people and their lives but it is most certainly not a read in the vein of the aforementioned Hilary Green's books. Miss Carter's War BREAKS MY HEART AND STOMPS ON IT IN A MISANTHROPIC FOREVER.
So: good book.
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Date: 2014-12-05 07:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-12-05 08:32 pm (UTC)