Home from a day with the Van-Shallows, playing videogames with Jake, nattering with Missy, getting my hand and jumper and zip and bag straps gnawed by Hagrid. The pup is splitting his time between chewing everything in sight and weeing on the floor at the moment; Jake and Missy looked tired.
We drank cups of tea, hung out in the front room around their drawings and baubles and trinkets, watched old episodes of Friends on Netflix.
We didn’t have anything exciting to say. Anything new to do. We sat and spent time. Missy went out to her GP appointment, came back, went to her play rehearsal, came back. Jake and I ate pizza and looked for a co-op game to play together on the Switch.
It was a nice day. I’m really struggling to stay on top of my mental health at the moment, but stay on top of it I think I am. It’s a beast that’s thrashing beneath me, inside me, and I’m trying to give it the room to thrash while not letting it take control. (I have a different analogy for mental health every day. That’s because it shifts forms every day. And because it’s a great shrouded thing that has to be approached from many angles to get even a loose idea of its shape, its heft.)
I had moments today when I felt like everything was empty of joy and worth. When I thought about how I’ve got so little vibrancy inside me to write with, to interact with friends with; that there’s nothing in my heart or in the wider world but habit, routine, and ash.
But those are only thoughts. Scary thoughts, but only thoughts. Not reality, but judgements about reality. Sometimes I think they’re true, and then later I see that they were nothing but shadowy spectres, dissolving in the light of awareness.
I’ve seen that before. So I allowed that that was a possibility today. "I feel that everything is broken, but that doesn’t mean that that is so."
And other moments, more moments, I played with the dog on the sofa, shot Rabbids on the Switch with Jake, laughed with Missy about Joey’s antics on Friends.
We drank more tea. The night swept in. Another day passed on Earth. Not the best day. Not the worst. But another that my negative thoughts did not win.
The brighter column is filling up.
Showing posts with label Jake and Missy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jake and Missy. Show all posts
Friday, 26 October 2018
Friday, 13 July 2018
Day 76: Sugar water
Oh hey. Hey you. Check you out. Looking so fine. Those delicate legs. That soft skin. Your cracked and leathery wings unfurling from behind. Those mottled cloven hooves pawing at the ground. Those threshing tentacles glistening in the moonlight. You don't know what you're doing to me. Ooh. Ooh yeah.
Right, now that my regular introduction, which I do every post, is out of the way, we can begin...
I've been asleep. I couldn't keep my eyes open when I got back from Missy's birthday. Could not do it. Four hours sleep and then a bar shift and then socialising all evening is not conducive to writing a blog post.
But it was a happy night. I met Fran off a sweltering rush-hour bus and we walked up to Missy and Jake's together. Missy was inside with their new puppy, Hagrid, making sure he wasn't overwhelmed by all the people. Jake and the boys were lolling in the garden. One of our friends, who struggles to sleep and suffers night terrors, was passed out on the lawn. Jake said that the friend often comes round to snooze, and I wasn't surprised: there is something about Missy and Jake's that puts you at ease. I could have gone for some of those sweet, sweet zees myself. Or, as we call them over here, those sweet, sweet zeds.
We found what we thought was an exhausted bee in the grass so we tried to coax it back to life with sugar water, and left a shot of the stuff beside our sleeping friend for good measure. Turned out the bee wasn't exhausted, but dead, which is more difficult to heal with sugar water, although our friend did eventually come around.
We lazed in the last of the sun and chatted. I talked with Cieran about filmmaking and Caspar Noé and Brechtian drama, most of which was Cieran, and about the indie horror It Follows, which I eruditely described as "kind of about death, sort of." I'm great at film criticism.
I got talking to Missy's friend Tom, who I've not spoken to much before, and he suggested a study of everyday life in Britain that's been running since the '50s that I might be interested in, and we made friends on Facebook, and he sent me a link to a cool looking podcast. I like Tom.
And Missy kept wringing her hands asking everyone if they were having a good time, saying she was too anxious to enjoy her birthday because she was worried we weren't having a good time. Were we having a good time? How were we feeling?
I said that I was feeling a bit badgered, to be honest, with all these questions as to whether I was having a good time or not. Completely ruining my night, truth be told.
Ohhhhh, Missy said.
Then she had a bucks fizz and got drunk and became sassy, for a change.
I sat with Jake and talked about games consoles that were, games consoles that are, and some games consoles that have not yet come to pass. And other things. But mostly video games.
And it was all nice. I didn't drink. I came home at 10:30 p.m. I felt a touch of social awkwardness here and there, as is my wont, but I didn't let it spoil my night. And I didn't turn to alcohol to mask it and end up ruining my day tomorrow.
Speaking of which, I really need to go back to bed and get some sleep before my shift. If you're up before me, just leave a sugar water by my pillow. I'll be up and buzzing again in no time.
Ta ra x
Right, now that my regular introduction, which I do every post, is out of the way, we can begin...
I've been asleep. I couldn't keep my eyes open when I got back from Missy's birthday. Could not do it. Four hours sleep and then a bar shift and then socialising all evening is not conducive to writing a blog post.
But it was a happy night. I met Fran off a sweltering rush-hour bus and we walked up to Missy and Jake's together. Missy was inside with their new puppy, Hagrid, making sure he wasn't overwhelmed by all the people. Jake and the boys were lolling in the garden. One of our friends, who struggles to sleep and suffers night terrors, was passed out on the lawn. Jake said that the friend often comes round to snooze, and I wasn't surprised: there is something about Missy and Jake's that puts you at ease. I could have gone for some of those sweet, sweet zees myself. Or, as we call them over here, those sweet, sweet zeds.
We found what we thought was an exhausted bee in the grass so we tried to coax it back to life with sugar water, and left a shot of the stuff beside our sleeping friend for good measure. Turned out the bee wasn't exhausted, but dead, which is more difficult to heal with sugar water, although our friend did eventually come around.
We lazed in the last of the sun and chatted. I talked with Cieran about filmmaking and Caspar Noé and Brechtian drama, most of which was Cieran, and about the indie horror It Follows, which I eruditely described as "kind of about death, sort of." I'm great at film criticism.
I got talking to Missy's friend Tom, who I've not spoken to much before, and he suggested a study of everyday life in Britain that's been running since the '50s that I might be interested in, and we made friends on Facebook, and he sent me a link to a cool looking podcast. I like Tom.
And Missy kept wringing her hands asking everyone if they were having a good time, saying she was too anxious to enjoy her birthday because she was worried we weren't having a good time. Were we having a good time? How were we feeling?
I said that I was feeling a bit badgered, to be honest, with all these questions as to whether I was having a good time or not. Completely ruining my night, truth be told.
Ohhhhh, Missy said.
Then she had a bucks fizz and got drunk and became sassy, for a change.
I sat with Jake and talked about games consoles that were, games consoles that are, and some games consoles that have not yet come to pass. And other things. But mostly video games.
And it was all nice. I didn't drink. I came home at 10:30 p.m. I felt a touch of social awkwardness here and there, as is my wont, but I didn't let it spoil my night. And I didn't turn to alcohol to mask it and end up ruining my day tomorrow.
Speaking of which, I really need to go back to bed and get some sleep before my shift. If you're up before me, just leave a sugar water by my pillow. I'll be up and buzzing again in no time.
Ta ra x
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