Going down
I am trying to find a sensible explanation of the events of the past weekend.
So I tell myself:
I was not happy at the thought of going to a wedding where I only knew a couple, and not too well, and I don't even much like half of it, and the idea of spending the whole evening with them was appalling.
I was not in my best mood, considering that I had been disappointed by a bad birthday present from people who should know me well, by a birthday day spent at work, by a lack of celebration with somebody I like, by having my parents back home just when I was beginning to enjoy an empty, silent house, by the fact that I am still not talking to father who behaves as the total asshole he is, by my chronic lack of money and by the general restlessness at the realisation that I may spend here the rest of my life and I don't really want it but feel tied to too many things - most of which I haven't chosen but which have been imposed on me.
In the end, it's four o'clock of a grey rainish afternoon, and I am crying in my car, parked not far from the church where library friend is going to be married in less than an hour. When I think I can drive again, I start the car and decide I will drive until it's late enough to go back home - since I cannot go back and say that no, I didn't go to the wedding and no, I am not too well, and also no, I don't know what's going on. I drive for a while and get to the office where work-a-holic friend is sure to be. So I get there, and I can only say a few words before starting to cry again, while caressing the dog who's come to say hello. Work-a-holic friend is puzzled and almost scared to move. I spend some time with her, look at her working, then I leave again.
As I am driving, I wonder where I could go, and I realise that I don't care; I'm too practical to think about leaving and never come home again, because I would need a change of clothes and all that, but the thought of just, you know, going. Leaving and not go back, be forgotten, run away. Disappear.
Then I also have this vision of me in my car, and of not following the road as it was bending, and going straight and crashing.
And it is normal, as it was normal when I had visions of me climbing on the terrace and falling down.
I end up spending the evening until almost 11 with trendy friend, chatting vaguely. My eyes are sore and my vision is half blurred for all the crying of the day.
When I go back home I am still a bit confused, but lie pretty well at mother who asks me how it went and why did I leave this early. After all, the idea was to leave the wedding early, because I would be surrounded by couples, people I don't know, old people I don't know.
On Sunday I spend the morning tidying up, moving my computer to my room, watching tv, and in the afternoon I fix the treadmill, send a message to the B&S guy, curse curse curse myself the second I press the Ok button; then I go for a quick tea with shop-a-holic friend, who kind of offends me by calling me a child for not telling mother about not going to the wedding. As if my greatest desire were to make mother be even more worried about me, after the Annus Horribilis of 2005.
So I spend the following hour with my mind away, chatting of silly useless things, and then I go home and I run, because that makes me feel good. I conclude the day by reading a good deal from Jonathan Strange and switch off the light feeling satisfied.
On a Tuesday evening, and feeling strange yet better. Gym in an hour, boss still away, 250 pages to the end of the book, 17 days to the beginning of Christmas vacations, which is fantastic because I am feeling supertired, and this kind of weekend, which is overtiresome on the physical and especially on the emotional side, this kind of weekend is not recommended when one only wants to recharge one's batteries, recover, feel better; even though I did sleep more, and a real lot, but I am really extra tired, and I cannot wait for the next weekend to catch up. My plan is actually a nice day break, going to my uni city for a walk, a look around, a carrot cake with coffee at my favourite café, the first Christmas lights. I think I need to breath some fresh air and look at the colours around me, a change of scenery.
I am getting restless.
So I tell myself:
I was not happy at the thought of going to a wedding where I only knew a couple, and not too well, and I don't even much like half of it, and the idea of spending the whole evening with them was appalling.
I was not in my best mood, considering that I had been disappointed by a bad birthday present from people who should know me well, by a birthday day spent at work, by a lack of celebration with somebody I like, by having my parents back home just when I was beginning to enjoy an empty, silent house, by the fact that I am still not talking to father who behaves as the total asshole he is, by my chronic lack of money and by the general restlessness at the realisation that I may spend here the rest of my life and I don't really want it but feel tied to too many things - most of which I haven't chosen but which have been imposed on me.
In the end, it's four o'clock of a grey rainish afternoon, and I am crying in my car, parked not far from the church where library friend is going to be married in less than an hour. When I think I can drive again, I start the car and decide I will drive until it's late enough to go back home - since I cannot go back and say that no, I didn't go to the wedding and no, I am not too well, and also no, I don't know what's going on. I drive for a while and get to the office where work-a-holic friend is sure to be. So I get there, and I can only say a few words before starting to cry again, while caressing the dog who's come to say hello. Work-a-holic friend is puzzled and almost scared to move. I spend some time with her, look at her working, then I leave again.
As I am driving, I wonder where I could go, and I realise that I don't care; I'm too practical to think about leaving and never come home again, because I would need a change of clothes and all that, but the thought of just, you know, going. Leaving and not go back, be forgotten, run away. Disappear.
Then I also have this vision of me in my car, and of not following the road as it was bending, and going straight and crashing.
And it is normal, as it was normal when I had visions of me climbing on the terrace and falling down.
I end up spending the evening until almost 11 with trendy friend, chatting vaguely. My eyes are sore and my vision is half blurred for all the crying of the day.
When I go back home I am still a bit confused, but lie pretty well at mother who asks me how it went and why did I leave this early. After all, the idea was to leave the wedding early, because I would be surrounded by couples, people I don't know, old people I don't know.
On Sunday I spend the morning tidying up, moving my computer to my room, watching tv, and in the afternoon I fix the treadmill, send a message to the B&S guy, curse curse curse myself the second I press the Ok button; then I go for a quick tea with shop-a-holic friend, who kind of offends me by calling me a child for not telling mother about not going to the wedding. As if my greatest desire were to make mother be even more worried about me, after the Annus Horribilis of 2005.
So I spend the following hour with my mind away, chatting of silly useless things, and then I go home and I run, because that makes me feel good. I conclude the day by reading a good deal from Jonathan Strange and switch off the light feeling satisfied.
On a Tuesday evening, and feeling strange yet better. Gym in an hour, boss still away, 250 pages to the end of the book, 17 days to the beginning of Christmas vacations, which is fantastic because I am feeling supertired, and this kind of weekend, which is overtiresome on the physical and especially on the emotional side, this kind of weekend is not recommended when one only wants to recharge one's batteries, recover, feel better; even though I did sleep more, and a real lot, but I am really extra tired, and I cannot wait for the next weekend to catch up. My plan is actually a nice day break, going to my uni city for a walk, a look around, a carrot cake with coffee at my favourite café, the first Christmas lights. I think I need to breath some fresh air and look at the colours around me, a change of scenery.
I am getting restless.
posted by Peggy @ 5:52 PM
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