solitary_summer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
solitary_summer) wrote2008-10-24 10:11 pm
solitary_summer) wrote2008-10-24 10:11 pm
(no subject)
I am so, so dead. Tuesday went better than expected, Wednesday - horse in the morning, work in the afternoon & feeling exhausted for the rest for the day, although with less of a sore throat, but more constant sniffing & sneezing & lots of tissues & generally feeling crappy. Same yesterday, plus headache. Also, period. Gah. Today (up early to pick up the newly winter-tyre'd car from the garage) after I'd closed the shop I just sat in our storeroom-cum-kitchen for a quarter of an hour, mindlessly staring at the wall, and couldn't even make myself move to get up and go home. Which I finally managed to do, had hot soup, chocolate and the first episode of Buffy (pondering the scary possibility of rewatching all seven seasons... mid-March with one episode per evening?! dear god...) and am feeling somewhat better now, although still rather brain dead.
And it's Friday evening already, when did that happen? Since Russian class & belly-dancing class started again it's like, *blink*, and the week is over.
So, brief summary of my completely boring life; saw Rebecca last week (got the ticket from M., who didn't want to see it again), and the most I can say about that is, meh. It's pretty enough and doesn't outright suck, but it doesn't come close to Elisabeth, while reusing too many of the elements that worked there. It's all bit boring (and I wasn't even very familiar with the story), although the pace does pick up a bit in the second part, and if a special effect (Manderley burning, which is admittedly impressive) gets almost the most applause, you're doing something wrong. The fairly catchy title track is repeated ad nauseam, and other than that there are only a couple memorable and one decent song (Mrs. Danvers' Sie ergibt sich nicht). The ensemble scenes are all very Elisabeth-esque, been there, seen that, and as for Uwe Kröger, IMO he hit the jackpot playing Death there and has been insanely overhyped ever since.
Also (Saturday), one immensely satisfying shopping trip where I actually found everything I was looking for (Brio toy train for the niece's birthday; Russian grammar, verb list and new vocabulary CDs; new jeans, much needed; a rucksack, ditto). A very nice afternoon walk on the Bisamberg on Sunday. Practicing the choreograohies (and showing them to the parents, because I figured if I was going to do it on stage I should try to get used to people watching me), Russian learning (which I'm really kind ofobsessive dedicated about at the moment, irregular verbs during lunchbreak, vocabulary on the underground, that kind of thing, but I'm going to speak this language and read all those Russian authors in Russian in this lifetime, and before retirement, too.)
And suddenly there never seems to be a whole lot of time left. I guess what I sort of miss is actually having thoughts about life, the universe and everything. Then again, I most certainly don't miss all those vicious circle depressive thoughts, so I guess being busy is good.
And, oh, alright, qualification; I spent a shitload of time and thought on that epic S2 Reconstructed Torchwood post a couple of weeks ago, but OTOH that was completely worth every minute of it; for one thing because I love it when things sort themselves out in my head, and for another thing, because of all the time I now won't spend obsessively trying to make sense of something that doesn't.
One thing struck me, though, on my Sunday walk. All of these things, everything I do, is always about me, myself & I, and to be perfectly honest, I like it that way. I guess I could be happier, but I could also be (and was) unhappier, so on the balance it seems okay. I didn't particularly want someone with me on that walk. R. asked me if I want to see a film with her and U. on Sunday, and I hesitated, almost inventing a family obligation, because I really didn't want to, not the talk that is always, always the same, work, U.'s relationship dramas, and probably a movie I'll be feeling less than enthusiastic about, not when I could pack my camera and indulge my newly-found enthusiasm for Sunday walks; fresh air and pretty autumn landscapes instead of some dark stuffy cinema. I didn't, in the end, because part of my brain tells me not to always give in to my anti-social tendencies, but the temptation was still strong.
I'm a bit scared I've really managed to talk myself into a don't want anyone, don't need anyone mindset, that I've just given up, but the fear is mostly intellectual, abstract; I don't really feel it; I'm very much okay with things as they are, much more so than I've been sine last autumn and the whole H. thing.
Maybe I'm just weird. Maybe I'm not meant for relationships of any kind.
Sometimes I kind of envy the people who are maybe a bit socially awkward but then discover fandom and suddenly fit right in, because I can't even seem to manage that. OToneH, even lurking around the edges of fandom has made aware of all kinds of race and gender and sex/sexuality related issues, and in a lot of ways changed my self-image as a woman, and for the better, but OTOH... I'm too rational, I never squee about the right things, and rarely unreservedly, I complain about the wrong things, am too serious about the wrong things, and if something's nice, but not the bestest thing ever, I'll say it. Too... something or the other, I don't know; still too socially awkward. Or maybe I just can't be bothered to get off my ass and actually interact, but most of the time I simply feel like I've nothing to say anyway.
It doesn't feel so weird in my own head, but maybe I am, from the outside?
Am I getting closer to the crazy cat lady stage, minus even the cats? I wonder.
And it's Friday evening already, when did that happen? Since Russian class & belly-dancing class started again it's like, *blink*, and the week is over.
So, brief summary of my completely boring life; saw Rebecca last week (got the ticket from M., who didn't want to see it again), and the most I can say about that is, meh. It's pretty enough and doesn't outright suck, but it doesn't come close to Elisabeth, while reusing too many of the elements that worked there. It's all bit boring (and I wasn't even very familiar with the story), although the pace does pick up a bit in the second part, and if a special effect (Manderley burning, which is admittedly impressive) gets almost the most applause, you're doing something wrong. The fairly catchy title track is repeated ad nauseam, and other than that there are only a couple memorable and one decent song (Mrs. Danvers' Sie ergibt sich nicht). The ensemble scenes are all very Elisabeth-esque, been there, seen that, and as for Uwe Kröger, IMO he hit the jackpot playing Death there and has been insanely overhyped ever since.
Also (Saturday), one immensely satisfying shopping trip where I actually found everything I was looking for (Brio toy train for the niece's birthday; Russian grammar, verb list and new vocabulary CDs; new jeans, much needed; a rucksack, ditto). A very nice afternoon walk on the Bisamberg on Sunday. Practicing the choreograohies (and showing them to the parents, because I figured if I was going to do it on stage I should try to get used to people watching me), Russian learning (which I'm really kind of
And suddenly there never seems to be a whole lot of time left. I guess what I sort of miss is actually having thoughts about life, the universe and everything. Then again, I most certainly don't miss all those vicious circle depressive thoughts, so I guess being busy is good.
And, oh, alright, qualification; I spent a shitload of time and thought on that epic S2 Reconstructed Torchwood post a couple of weeks ago, but OTOH that was completely worth every minute of it; for one thing because I love it when things sort themselves out in my head, and for another thing, because of all the time I now won't spend obsessively trying to make sense of something that doesn't.
One thing struck me, though, on my Sunday walk. All of these things, everything I do, is always about me, myself & I, and to be perfectly honest, I like it that way. I guess I could be happier, but I could also be (and was) unhappier, so on the balance it seems okay. I didn't particularly want someone with me on that walk. R. asked me if I want to see a film with her and U. on Sunday, and I hesitated, almost inventing a family obligation, because I really didn't want to, not the talk that is always, always the same, work, U.'s relationship dramas, and probably a movie I'll be feeling less than enthusiastic about, not when I could pack my camera and indulge my newly-found enthusiasm for Sunday walks; fresh air and pretty autumn landscapes instead of some dark stuffy cinema. I didn't, in the end, because part of my brain tells me not to always give in to my anti-social tendencies, but the temptation was still strong.
I'm a bit scared I've really managed to talk myself into a don't want anyone, don't need anyone mindset, that I've just given up, but the fear is mostly intellectual, abstract; I don't really feel it; I'm very much okay with things as they are, much more so than I've been sine last autumn and the whole H. thing.
Maybe I'm just weird. Maybe I'm not meant for relationships of any kind.
Sometimes I kind of envy the people who are maybe a bit socially awkward but then discover fandom and suddenly fit right in, because I can't even seem to manage that. OToneH, even lurking around the edges of fandom has made aware of all kinds of race and gender and sex/sexuality related issues, and in a lot of ways changed my self-image as a woman, and for the better, but OTOH... I'm too rational, I never squee about the right things, and rarely unreservedly, I complain about the wrong things, am too serious about the wrong things, and if something's nice, but not the bestest thing ever, I'll say it. Too... something or the other, I don't know; still too socially awkward. Or maybe I just can't be bothered to get off my ass and actually interact, but most of the time I simply feel like I've nothing to say anyway.
It doesn't feel so weird in my own head, but maybe I am, from the outside?
Am I getting closer to the crazy cat lady stage, minus even the cats? I wonder.