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Sep. 19th, 2007 05:03 pmWhat's the point of having a day off (an entire day too, for once, and all to myself, since Ch. and I have arranged the horse schedule so that I only have to go every other week), when you've just got your period and feel crampy, tired and generally disgusting? I went to the zoo in the morning (listlessly), mostly to get the annual season ticket as long as the voucher was still valid, and had planned to go photographing in the late afternoon, but watched three episodes of B5 (which I've decided to re-watch, yes, all five seasons, yes, I've all kinds of never-watched dvds lying around at home, and and no, i'm not sure there's a point to it, but since it's been years I've forgotten enough to see it with an at least partly fresh eye...) instead, because I just couldn't face the idea going out again.
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soavezefiretto writes about what she'd do if this were the last day of her life, which got me thinking, too... (And depressed, oh, yes.)
Make a will [you'd get a first pick on the dvds, cds, and books, just so you know... ], maybe write messages for a couple of people, but probably not. What they know, they already know, and it doesn't seem fair to drop any kind of emotional bomb on someone when they can't respond properly any longer.
Then I'd get to some beach, Greece, Turkey, doesn't matter, somewhere that's reachable within a day with some time to spare. Granted, it'd mean spending much of my last day on an airport and plane - although I'd also get to see the clouds from above one more time, which is one of the great things about flying, IMO -, but I think it'd be worth it, sitting on some beach, looking out at the sea and listen to the waves, maybe watching the sun set. Maybe take a book I love, something familiar, (at the moment it'd be something by Thomas Mann, I think), read a few pages. Have a glass of wine, maybe.
I don't think I'd want anyone with me, because that'd lead to all kinds of tears & drama (although I'm toying with the thought of bringing a mobile phone, just in case I want to hear someone's voice, after all), and in the end you're alone anyway.
For me the surprise in thinking about this was (even though today was a rather crappy day where I've already asked myself why I keep going on, etc.), the sadness, and the regret. There have been years where I'd probably have welcomed dying (at least in theory and my imagination; reality might/would still have been somewhat different, I guess), now... it depresses the fuck out of me, because after all I don't want this to be over yet, and at the moment (I want to blame the hormones, but am not sure I can) all I can see is regrets, missed opportunities, thirty-five years of nothing and failure. (Funny. Because when I started to come out of that long phase of depression I thought that was enough, having survived, living, and and I wasn't regretting anything, because all this made me who I am, was who I am. Right. Riiiight.) And what I'd regret most is the general lack of love, and perhaps I can blame the hormones for all this disgusting sentimentality after all. God.
And I guess this should make me reflect on how to re-structure my life, make it more meaningful, start dating, etc., but I suspect I'll just go back to watching another couple of B5 episodes. Literally and metaphorically.
soavezefiretto writes about what she'd do if this were the last day of her life, which got me thinking, too... (And depressed, oh, yes.) Make a will [you'd get a first pick on the dvds, cds, and books, just so you know... ], maybe write messages for a couple of people, but probably not. What they know, they already know, and it doesn't seem fair to drop any kind of emotional bomb on someone when they can't respond properly any longer.
Then I'd get to some beach, Greece, Turkey, doesn't matter, somewhere that's reachable within a day with some time to spare. Granted, it'd mean spending much of my last day on an airport and plane - although I'd also get to see the clouds from above one more time, which is one of the great things about flying, IMO -, but I think it'd be worth it, sitting on some beach, looking out at the sea and listen to the waves, maybe watching the sun set. Maybe take a book I love, something familiar, (at the moment it'd be something by Thomas Mann, I think), read a few pages. Have a glass of wine, maybe.
I don't think I'd want anyone with me, because that'd lead to all kinds of tears & drama (although I'm toying with the thought of bringing a mobile phone, just in case I want to hear someone's voice, after all), and in the end you're alone anyway.
For me the surprise in thinking about this was (even though today was a rather crappy day where I've already asked myself why I keep going on, etc.), the sadness, and the regret. There have been years where I'd probably have welcomed dying (at least in theory and my imagination; reality might/would still have been somewhat different, I guess), now... it depresses the fuck out of me, because after all I don't want this to be over yet, and at the moment (I want to blame the hormones, but am not sure I can) all I can see is regrets, missed opportunities, thirty-five years of nothing and failure. (Funny. Because when I started to come out of that long phase of depression I thought that was enough, having survived, living, and and I wasn't regretting anything, because all this made me who I am, was who I am. Right. Riiiight.) And what I'd regret most is the general lack of love, and perhaps I can blame the hormones for all this disgusting sentimentality after all. God.
And I guess this should make me reflect on how to re-structure my life, make it more meaningful, start dating, etc., but I suspect I'll just go back to watching another couple of B5 episodes. Literally and metaphorically.