enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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PISSY

I'm in a really bad mood today. I'll admit it. :)

I had a great day at work, actually. My career is taking off. I'm getting notice every which way you look. And I'm holding the line on a whole bunch of things and thereby garnering respect.

I also got a call about an interview with Foreign Affairs for next Wednesday. Unfortunately, I don't think I will be able to go. It's very short notice and my boss is away next week. It would be very irresponsible for me to take the day off. That's not me.

But I'm in a bad mood because I'm stupid. I'm stupid because I'm imagining that I'd be happier if I had a boyfriend.

Only that is only true with so many conditions. I've been through this many times before, and pretty much everyone I know who is attached is with someone I wouldn't want to be with. Most men bore me. (Actually, most men anger me, and I want to castrate them, but whatever.)

So it's better to be alone than to just be with someone...because I'm not an average person. Unfortunately, I'm a bit outside of the norm. I'm going to require someone rather exceptional, sadly. And exceptional is obviously not that common.

I don't mean exceptional as in better than anyone else. I think you understand.

C., for example, is out on a date tonight with a woman I found to be quite ordinary. Rather stupid, even. But men are like that - they want someone who doesn't make their life difficult, who props up their ego.

Anyhow. I'm happy for him if she turns out to be a nice girl.

I shouldn't be in such a snarky mood. I have a lovely invitation to meet a friend for brunch tomorrow, as she wants to introduce me to another one of her girlfriends. Unfortunately, this girlfriend is ANOTHER 40 year-old, accomplished single woman. It's such a load of shit, all of these wonderful, single women.

But maybe she wants to be single. As a very large portion of me wants to be.

I know this groaning and griping mood will pass. For sure it will.

In a way, I think that it's about displaced anger. I'm rather angry at myself for not putting the wheels in motion to pursue any big projects.

I *have* started drawing.

But I have a feeling that I need a bigger project, like that Julie and Julia project. You know, something that will absorb me.

I was thinking about what Anna said about pleasure needing to be had in small doses in order to stimulate happiness.

For me, I think that happiness is found through those brief pleasures, but those are not usually pleasures sought. Those not-sought pleasures are typically pleasures passing by my gaze, like men in tight coral pants on the streets of Florence; pretty soon, my mind has skipped on to something quite different. Nothing is lost.

When I'm happiest, however, in a genuine and even a relatively conscious way, is when I'm absorbed. In fact, in some of my happiest times I did not need to avert my gaze to see my sustained joy. In Australia, for example, when I was running my guts out day in and day out, I knew that I was happy. I was absorbed.

I think that this is why I cling so much to work: absorption. I love it when my brain takes off to solve a problem. Even though the problem is not the most aesthetically pleasing thing in the world, it's glorious to feel the process careen forward like a runaway train, into unknown territory.

Although, come to think about it, often this happens when I revert to my subconcious, i.e. I avert my conscious brain to my lunch or something else, and all the while the sneaky other parts of my brain are masticating a solution. The dribbling out happens almost immediately thereafter, and in quickfire expression.

I'm babbling in a horrid way.

I'm writing evening pages tonight, I suspect.

I have the sniffles, too, and it is too late to go bike riding.

No need to be glum. I have books to read. I am reading Reading Lol!ta in Tehran at the same time as I am reading that biography of Edith Wharton. I'm flipping back and forth. It provides a rather interesting juxtaposition, making each book the richer for the other one being read at the same time. Rather like a fugue.

XO

There are people who like Bach, I find, and people who can't stand him. When I hear a Bach fugue, such as I used to play on the piano as a little girl, it's as if I go into a trance. I play those Nina Simone songs over and over again, too, to note where she's playing dual lines of Bach under the melody. Maybe that's a clue as to the fucked nature of my brain.

8:05 p.m. - 2009-08-07

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