This week, we had a little spot of rain, dancing with Nature’s springtime confetti and it looked a bit like this:
Somehow, I have managed to lose a succession of very pretty umbrellas over the last three years or so and have been left with only a puny, dull, grey replacement, acquired via an unwitting and unwilling intermediary from, apparently, a 7/11 in Hong Kong. This, of all things, I cannot seem to lose.
Here I am again, loyal readers, using my time with you as a work avoidance strategy. The problem is that I am supposed to be engaging in the task of reflection. You know the game “What happened, how did I feel, what did I learn, what will I do now?” Because apparently the exercise of writing this down and submitting it to be assessed as a level 6 piece of academic work makes us better at our jobs.
You may sense I have a little problem with this and given how prone I am to joyous outbursts concerning the loveliness of spring, you might find what I have to say surprising. One of the consequences of having a brain which developed in a flood of stress hormones (due in no small part to the universe’s refusal to operate on my terms) is an inability to make decisions concerning something which has no emotional relevance to you. Unfortunately, another symptom is a certain amount of emotional blunting. How then, can I submit this piece of work that is asking me to examine myself so deeply when there is not very much there to be examined and no understanding of how to fake it?
New acquaintances have remarked about the emotionally demanding nature of my work and I never know what to say. The dreadfulness upsets me briefly but there is so much else going on that I feel quite immune to, no heart strings attached. This is not an inborn error of my emotional metabolism, it is rather a very sensible way of operating in my stressful line of business and not a few of my colleagues have similar methods to their requisite professional madness.
Tragically, I’m doomed to distance from nearly all things feeling. If the spectrum exists, I am somewhere on it for sure. Shamefully, necessity has taken over the place in which a more emotive disposition should be residing. People need people, whether they love them, like them or hate them. Though some have attempted to insinuate that I am not people, I surely am. If only needing someone were as good as loving them but sadly it falls far short. The unattended wreck of some of my familial connections could potentially be healed with a loving salve but without necessity, all are lost to me.
Don’t mistake me, my life is not an expanse of grey blankness like that umbrella. Far from it, I am capable of pleasurable sensation and find I enjoy life in ever increasing measures. Just please nobody ask me to tell you how I really feel about it because I lack the necessary neural networks, not to mention the language to express it.
FRPs for spending a ridiculous amount of money in Brixton last night: -2
CRPs for faffing with this essay for so long: -1
CRPs for acing that exam: +2
FitnePs for eating a lot of Jaffa Cakes: -3
RelaPs for allowing myself to feel sickeningly fluffy about it all: +1
KarmaPs for stepping up and facilitating someone’s evening out even though I was terrified of being too shy and having nothing entertaining to say: +1
GRPs for struggling to set aside my reservations about a major plot loophole in the Muppets’ latest offering, to the point where it could be said to have hampered my enjoyment of the movie: -1
Total so far:
- Karma: +17
- FRP: +160.1
- Relationships: +3
- Family: +8
- Friends: +10 [Supplementary PPs: +2]
- Career: +16
- Fitness: +4
- General: +3