bye mumm

I woke up at 5am to the brightest hotel room i’d ever seen, and the curtains were drawn!

we went grocery shopping, which was $100, but only because there were things i’d not need to buy often, like laundry detergent and waste paper baskets and 100 peel&seal envelopes correct size for A4. the mall, is called Garden City, was very full, because of the heatwave, and no one down here has air conditioning in their house. and all the electrical fans in Brisbane were sold out.

then we went to the Gold Coast to see the nannas and poppa and Elaine. my superb navigational skills got us there in half the time, for which I demanded congratulations from everyone, and for which congratulations were duly given.

lucki I got to sit between Elaine and nanna Cutts, who asked me lots of questions I didn’t want to answer and gave me lots of useless advice and told me I could come and stay with them any time. which I never will. when Elaine and nanna Cutts weren’t there, mumm and nanna Trish and poppa complained about Elaine’s habit of always talking about herself as though it was a huge problem.

then we drove back to Brisbane and mumm dropped me off at Griffith Glen, which is the name of the place I live. she cried saying goodbye.

mumm, etc

i’m so sleepy, but can’t go to bed without writing an entry! that would be evil.

I finished switching to mt, and like it so much better. with this one I can have 20 blogs from the same script! not that I will.

today at uni we were expected to spend our prac inputting rows and rows of numbers into SPSS, a data analysis program. what a waste of time. I left.

I went to the refect and bought some juice. there are two regular refect ladies, one is always very nice to me and attempts conversations, the other has always been rather brusque. well today the brusque one for the first time ever said hello, but said it as though she always had and knew my life history. and then! she said I looked beautiful! I was very surprised. people you don’t really know don’t usually begin a conversation by saying “you look beautiful.” they should!

but anyway, hours and hours later, mumm mentioned that daydream had said to her that when he picked me up from uni he thought I looked very attractive. these comments would be unremarkable if they hadn’t both happened on the same day, when they are so rare! so why did I look so wonderful today?

i’m not really vain, although I sometimes pretend to be, and actually have no opinion as to my own attractiveness or not. of course I probably would if I were either ugly or beautiful, but I like being neither. if two people had told me today I looked ugly i’m sure I would have had the same reaction, and would still have spent two paragraphs of similar tone on it just now.

during the same conversation with my mother, which mostly revolved around her alcoholism and how miserable it’s making her, she said she feels that my relationship with her is as though I am her mother, rather than vice versa. I asked if that was good or bad, according to her, and she said it was neither, that she just accepted it. she also said that she feels as though, when she drinks, that I am judging her.

well what does that even mean? if it means that I think she could be doing better than she is, then yes, I am. if it means that my opinion of her changes because she is drinking, then i’m not. I don’t know from personal experience how difficult addiction of any kind is to overcome, but I know! it’s very difficult! and that maybe I am expecting too much.

the one or two times i’ve complained about it here have simply been mindless frustration directly after an alcohol-induced confrontation, and! are by no means the basis of my opinion! I couldn’t possibly think her a bad, weak or stupid person (she referred to herself as stupid several times, despite my many outraged objections).

in another conversation she said my opinion of her matters more than anyone’s. but she doesn’t belieeeeeeve my opinion.

one more thing.. earlier on, she and daydream were at Katrina’s, so I bought fish&chips for tea for Sarah and me and rented Stand By Me. I knew she’d like it because there’s a movie just like it that she likes except about girls. anyway at the part when Gordon’s brother is being all brotherly and encouraging, Sarah said to me, “why can’t you be like that?”

that is all.

junk brain

It’s Sunday night.

If I stop and notice I can hear: The deep whoops of a frog, the quite distinctive staccato of nearby chirping instincts, the whirring of computer fans, the less distinct drone of far-awayer insects, the occasional rushing of late night vehicles on the wet main road two streets down, the even more occasional high-to-low sequence of a gecko chatter, and every now and then, the clatter and flapping of a flying fox launching from the poinsiana.

I’m sitting at the desk in the back office, second storey, surrounded by windows. Outside the window to my right, at my eye level, there is the foliage and fruit of papaya tree. It’s less than two metres away and the window is open. Just as I finished typing of the flying foxes, one landed on (clumsily blundered into) said tree. I can now see it, climbing along the fronds, reaching down with its snoot and curling tongue, nibbling at the ripest papaya. I can hear it slurping. It has an orange neck ruff. It’s grasping the fruit with its tiny front paws.

It’s 11.45 pm and I have a client in ~nine hours. 9.00 am. I leave for work at 8.30 am, get out of bed at 8.00 am.

People are advised to sleep between seven and nine hours for best cognitive and physical health, however we are individuals and our needs differ. Six to ten hours may be appropriate. I tend to need nine hours, and it takes another hour after that to be able to reasonably comprehend and respond to my fellow person. My colleagues have learned to tone their cheery morning-person greetings down when I inevitably slouch twenty minutes late into the shared office space. The administration staff have (generally) learned that I strongly prefer my 9.00 am appointment slot to remain empty. Unfortunately, we have a new admin person.

This week has been a low one. I cancelled a string of social commitments and my entire “things I simply must do around the house this week” list. I took Friday afternoon, my private practice time, off (I took Monday off also, but I was genuinely unwell). I watched an ungodly number of movies and read several books and spoke to pretty much no one except my mumm and Brenton. It was glorious.

This morning was no different. I lounged languidly abed, reading The Last Unicorn, while Brenton bounced in and out of the room asking advice on repairing his father’s computer. Eventually my eye-rolling muscles started feeling the strain and I got up to help him. We repaired the computer. I cleaned out the innards of our computer. I tested and backed up several extraneous hard drives. I tidied up and concealed the hopelessly-tangled-wedged-under-the-desk cables. I swept. I organised my filing system. I recycled our e-waste. I went grocery shopping. I cleaned out the aquarium. I watered the garden. I helped Brenton fit the blinds to the new office. We took some benzos, ordered pizza, had a few drinks and watched a movie. When Brenton went to bed I started writing an article on understanding and working through infidelity.

I started all this at about 1.00 pm and finished up by writing this post. It’s more than I’ve done in the past three weeks. Now it’s midnight and I feel I’ll never be able to sleep again.

I took a sleeping pill before I began this entry. Usually within ten minutes my eyes outright defy my desire to finish what I thought I’d be finished by the time it hit. Like, when I go to bed, I always read a bit until my eyes get tired. When I take a pill, I’m never ready to put the book down by the time it hits, so every five seconds I have to consciously will open my eyes to continue. The next day I open my book where I left off and always, always, have to go back two or three pages to find something I can remember reading.

This pill ain’t workin. Idk wtf is going on. The worst part is I wake up super groggy when I’ve taken one and it takes me an extra hour to enter the same time-stream as the rest of the world.

In summary, I feel pretty bad for my 9 am client.

I’m gonna go finish my book.