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Well, last night was entirely unproductive, and resulted in me with a migraine and a screaming fit about my boyfriend's idiot friend who said he'd be there when we got there around 8, and did not in fact show up until 11:30. Which meant that I got to sit around in that awful hot, annyoing, stuffy, messy house and listen to Jim burble on about cartoons and the latest antics of Tweedledumbest.
I just about killed them. All three of them. The bf, for dragging me there, Jim, for being an idiot, and his idiot brother, for being a bigger idiot.
Then I went home and banged my head on the desk for a good hour and a half.
Actually, no. Then I went home and, because I had the stress migraine of doom, curled up in total darkness with my teddy bear and watched Labyrinth. It's scary when I watch Labyrinth. Or listen to the music. You can actually measure my pulse slowing down and watch my pupils and see me relaxing. With physical changes. There's something about Labyrinth that causes some sort of visceral reaction to calm down and be relaxed and happy. I think because I watched it so often when I was little, it became my comfort movie. Which is occasionally a good thing, because it makes Valium and Xanex? and all those other feel-good drugs unnecessary. Just a CD/mp3 player and a set of headphones, that's all I need.
Then ended up RPing with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cruelest_month till 5 am. With the end result that I didn't get up till ... ugh. 11 today. Oh well.
But I could have gotten so much done last night. And worse because I asked him... I asked my bf, when we were going over there, hey. Should I bring my book and notebook in case nothing happens, so I can take notes? "Nah, we'll probably only be there a little while." Oh. Ok. Noooo. We were there till fucking midnight. By which time I'd wasted a good three, four hours. And gotten the stress reaction of doom to boot.
I think the worst part about it is... none of them understand. I think my sailor boy, darling and yet misguided as he is, is starting to. I wasn't entirely coherent when I explained it to him last night, but I think it came across. But... I'm an academician. I actually enjoy sitting around and reading history books and taking notes and writing papers. It amuses me and it makes me feel useful. And it comes naturally to me, it's what I do. And what I was doing was rather productive.. and at the moment I'd rather be productive than lazy. I had enough of being lazy when I was unemployed.
And it's not the first time this has happend. I mean... ok. Tweedledumbest is my age. And he can't figure out what n + 10 - 10 is. He goes to a Hooters restaurant and orders 'a dozen wings. But don't give me 12. I don't think I could eat 12.' Every time he's in a room with me he smiles and nods and stares at my tits all the time. It's... obscene. I think he might actually be physically retarted. Which, sadly, makes it almsot better in a way. He can't help being that dumb. Jim, the crazy man... he just graduated high school. I think he actually has some intelligence. But I can't tell if he doesn't want to use it or... what. He demonstrates the ability to grasp complex concepts, but... all he does is talk about RPGs, cartoons, or the Matrix. His brother... ohhhh gods. His brother is thirty. He's rather sweet. But.... no. He has what I'm almost afraid to call average intelligence. Which is to say he gets by in the world, no problem. But can I talk to him about ... hmm. Well, I can talk to him about current events. Kind of. But... either of them. If I were to tell them I missed going to the theatre, they'd ask why, when there's a perfectly good movie cineplex down the street from my apartment.
When I first met the bf, we were talking after coming back from a night out with that lot and some other friends of his. He asked me why I used big words all the time, I think because it just confused them. I shrugged and said it was because I learned them as a kid. He thought I did it because it made me feel superior. Right now it just makes me feel like a freak.
And, really, here? I am a freak. At least in this crowd. I grew up speaking two languages. My grandfather made regular trips outside of the country and brought me back books... of fairy tales, of fiction... he tried to explain to me the economy of the Ukraine, once, when I was younger. My eyes glazed over... I was a kid, I didn't want to hear about the gross national product or any kind of ratio. I went to the theatre at least three times a year... grandmother took me to the ballet, to the Shakespeare theatre... I didn't watch Smokey and the Bandit or Deliverance or any of the usual American childhood movies, I watched Pedro Almodovar and Luc Besson, before he became infamous. I was doing complex mathematics in my elementary school science project because I was listening to Tom Lehrer too much. I learned most of my early political knowledge from Lehrer songs. I knew what balance of power was before I was ten. I grew up tossing around heavy concepts, big words, and strangely liberal ideas.
And then I come here.
My boss's boss is the worst kind of WASP. If he starts talking about 'those hardworking Mexicans' one more time I will say something. And it won't be friendly. Jim's brother, silly would-be knight that he is, actually I think believes in the trickle-down theory, and other Republican fairy tales. I can't talk to anyone about the absolutely wonderful performance of Richard III (aka Ricky 3, thank you Fi...) I saw last year because they'd all look at me funny and ask what was so great about it. I just... I feel like a freak. A big-talking, poncey, book-nerd freak.
My sweet, misguided sailor boy, dear man that he is, has offered to take me to the theatre once we get some money. It's nice, but it's hardly going to solve the problem.
I don't know what will. I have no idea what to do.
WOw. This turned into a really... not-upbeat entry. I wasn't actually feeling that bad about it when I started. Crap. Crap on a stick.
Oh well. Maybe all I need to do is put on some music again and start taking notes. I've got a whole pile of interesting looking books here. Or maybe I can flip through that anthropological studies of religion book and find that "I asked Malinowski and he told me not to be a bloody idiot" line again. That line made me and all my friends crack up so much. We've wanted to say the same thing to many anthropologists whom we had to read.
Kind of sad that I became one, isn't it? :)
... hrr. I haven't read this book in a while. I actually find I miss it...
*curls up with her anthro text*
The weird things I find comforting, I tell you...
I just about killed them. All three of them. The bf, for dragging me there, Jim, for being an idiot, and his idiot brother, for being a bigger idiot.
Then I went home and banged my head on the desk for a good hour and a half.
Actually, no. Then I went home and, because I had the stress migraine of doom, curled up in total darkness with my teddy bear and watched Labyrinth. It's scary when I watch Labyrinth. Or listen to the music. You can actually measure my pulse slowing down and watch my pupils and see me relaxing. With physical changes. There's something about Labyrinth that causes some sort of visceral reaction to calm down and be relaxed and happy. I think because I watched it so often when I was little, it became my comfort movie. Which is occasionally a good thing, because it makes Valium and Xanex? and all those other feel-good drugs unnecessary. Just a CD/mp3 player and a set of headphones, that's all I need.
Then ended up RPing with
cruelest_month till 5 am. With the end result that I didn't get up till ... ugh. 11 today. Oh well. But I could have gotten so much done last night. And worse because I asked him... I asked my bf, when we were going over there, hey. Should I bring my book and notebook in case nothing happens, so I can take notes? "Nah, we'll probably only be there a little while." Oh. Ok. Noooo. We were there till fucking midnight. By which time I'd wasted a good three, four hours. And gotten the stress reaction of doom to boot.
I think the worst part about it is... none of them understand. I think my sailor boy, darling and yet misguided as he is, is starting to. I wasn't entirely coherent when I explained it to him last night, but I think it came across. But... I'm an academician. I actually enjoy sitting around and reading history books and taking notes and writing papers. It amuses me and it makes me feel useful. And it comes naturally to me, it's what I do. And what I was doing was rather productive.. and at the moment I'd rather be productive than lazy. I had enough of being lazy when I was unemployed.
And it's not the first time this has happend. I mean... ok. Tweedledumbest is my age. And he can't figure out what n + 10 - 10 is. He goes to a Hooters restaurant and orders 'a dozen wings. But don't give me 12. I don't think I could eat 12.' Every time he's in a room with me he smiles and nods and stares at my tits all the time. It's... obscene. I think he might actually be physically retarted. Which, sadly, makes it almsot better in a way. He can't help being that dumb. Jim, the crazy man... he just graduated high school. I think he actually has some intelligence. But I can't tell if he doesn't want to use it or... what. He demonstrates the ability to grasp complex concepts, but... all he does is talk about RPGs, cartoons, or the Matrix. His brother... ohhhh gods. His brother is thirty. He's rather sweet. But.... no. He has what I'm almost afraid to call average intelligence. Which is to say he gets by in the world, no problem. But can I talk to him about ... hmm. Well, I can talk to him about current events. Kind of. But... either of them. If I were to tell them I missed going to the theatre, they'd ask why, when there's a perfectly good movie cineplex down the street from my apartment.
When I first met the bf, we were talking after coming back from a night out with that lot and some other friends of his. He asked me why I used big words all the time, I think because it just confused them. I shrugged and said it was because I learned them as a kid. He thought I did it because it made me feel superior. Right now it just makes me feel like a freak.
And, really, here? I am a freak. At least in this crowd. I grew up speaking two languages. My grandfather made regular trips outside of the country and brought me back books... of fairy tales, of fiction... he tried to explain to me the economy of the Ukraine, once, when I was younger. My eyes glazed over... I was a kid, I didn't want to hear about the gross national product or any kind of ratio. I went to the theatre at least three times a year... grandmother took me to the ballet, to the Shakespeare theatre... I didn't watch Smokey and the Bandit or Deliverance or any of the usual American childhood movies, I watched Pedro Almodovar and Luc Besson, before he became infamous. I was doing complex mathematics in my elementary school science project because I was listening to Tom Lehrer too much. I learned most of my early political knowledge from Lehrer songs. I knew what balance of power was before I was ten. I grew up tossing around heavy concepts, big words, and strangely liberal ideas.
And then I come here.
My boss's boss is the worst kind of WASP. If he starts talking about 'those hardworking Mexicans' one more time I will say something. And it won't be friendly. Jim's brother, silly would-be knight that he is, actually I think believes in the trickle-down theory, and other Republican fairy tales. I can't talk to anyone about the absolutely wonderful performance of Richard III (aka Ricky 3, thank you Fi...) I saw last year because they'd all look at me funny and ask what was so great about it. I just... I feel like a freak. A big-talking, poncey, book-nerd freak.
My sweet, misguided sailor boy, dear man that he is, has offered to take me to the theatre once we get some money. It's nice, but it's hardly going to solve the problem.
I don't know what will. I have no idea what to do.
WOw. This turned into a really... not-upbeat entry. I wasn't actually feeling that bad about it when I started. Crap. Crap on a stick.
Oh well. Maybe all I need to do is put on some music again and start taking notes. I've got a whole pile of interesting looking books here. Or maybe I can flip through that anthropological studies of religion book and find that "I asked Malinowski and he told me not to be a bloody idiot" line again. That line made me and all my friends crack up so much. We've wanted to say the same thing to many anthropologists whom we had to read.
Kind of sad that I became one, isn't it? :)
... hrr. I haven't read this book in a while. I actually find I miss it...
*curls up with her anthro text*
The weird things I find comforting, I tell you...
