More Diary Less Blog

I think my writing is turning far more into a dumping ground for all the junk spinning in my head than for anything particularly useful or constructive for others. I don't think this is a bad thing- though being so introspective is far more the realm of the teenager than the thirty-something. You get older and you learn to just get on with things a bit and quit staring at your navel.

But navel gazing seems to be the thing to do at the moment. Maybe it's the weather or the ridiculously difficult times that seem to be lurking around the bend, but when you can't buy comfort anymore, because every little bit counts, you better find it somewhere and I suppose it's in your head.

Sorry then that I'm not finding much comfort at the moment and am finding myself considerably grumpy. This feeling of angst can generally be broken down into three categories I think- relationships, work, and life.

I had a really strange dream last night that involved my favorite photographer. It was somewhat erotic- though not overly erotic though it did involve kissing. Kissing! How chaste. But it was charged and bizarre and involved exploring this multi floored architectural monstrosity of an abode and there were a lot of other people there as well.

This morning I took note that the maid and Mr.Aloof and L all seem to still be going along together despite the maid announcing on IC at least twice this past year that 'they'd broken up'. That and she keeps telling everyone who complainis about relationship issues to read the book, "It's called a break up because it's broken" but then doesn't seem to be able to follow her own smug advice.

None of this should make me angry but it does of course. I'm angry that they're still all involved that he's still getting the things he wants. That whatever was happening with me was meaningless and unimportant and a sham and every other negative word I can throw at it.

Of course the smarter side to me recognizes that it's not all pretty and smug like the maid likes to portray. After all, you don't split with someone twice in one year if everything is fine. Obviously it's not. And I'd even go one step more and say he's probably doing to her exactly like he did to me and I know how powerful that hook is that keeps you coming back and makes you feel like it's all your fault. But I can't keep myself from being angry about it still. Not hurt so much- not anymore. And I don't even know what I would say to him were he to appear again. In some ways, my concept of him in my head has become more like a stranger. And this is good. But I'm not done being angry, and this is bad. Anger means caring and caring means not being over it. Though I suppose I'll get there eventually. At the moment I'm still just frustrated and angry at the lingering hurt of all of it still.

Work is a complicated mess still and I just heard that a firm where my friend E works is making 20 people redundant and I am even more sure now than I was before that what I need to do is get my citizenship first and foremost. Scary times ahead for architects and their fellows and it's going to be a struggle. This is of course a general observation. A more specific thought about my office is just how unpleasant it's going to be when only the bare bones are left and people start leaving. The one thing I have always loved about this office was the people and the atmosphere. I think it's one of the things that everyone loves about it. But it's going to take some time to recover from a blow like this. So even for the people who do stay, it will become a more somber place I fear.

Life in general. Well, I have the shrinky dink appointment today where I can talk about my general disgruntledness and angst. But when so many thing seem on the fritz or out of my control I tend to get this mad desire to make it all worse. I call this exercise, 'making my outside match my inside'- where I feel in times of mental stress the desire to fuck up things around me to match how I feel. Self destructive and not a good idea, I can generally stave it off, but it does put me in a funk. So I'm in a funk. About my life, where it's going, what I've done, and what it all means. At the moment the answer seems to be 'nowhere', 'nothing', and 'fuck all'- though I know that isn't the case, that's just the overwhelming sense of how I feel about it.