Nov. 28th, 2018 11:40 am
Rein in die gute Stube
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muckefuckSo having changed my plans last night in order to host Pasillero, his cancellation left me at loose ends. I finally settled on moving up my Thursday visit to Sea Ranch (which had to happen anyway given that it conflicted with the next condo meeting). I wasn't in a great mood, as evidenced by my reaction to having a couple with three young children sit next to me. They were pretty well-behaved, but I still moved to another table rather than have to deal with them at all.
At some point, I realised I was hurting myself by trying to be too generous to Pasillero. The gist of his message to me was, "I'm going to do this thing which I know is kind of shitty and I need to hear you're not upset with me over it." Which, of course, I was. But I told myself, He's already anxious about the trip, what purpose would making him feel bad serve? So I replied "I'm not mad at all." Then I stewed for an hour.
Eventually I realised I was framing it wrong: His need to feel validated didn't trump my need to have my pain acknowledged. So I told him I was a little mad "but mostly at myself". Which is true, since I've been in this kind of asymmetrical situation before and I know what kind of toll it can take. He acknowledged that getting me to change plans and then cancelling was kind of a dick move and apologised for hurting me and I told him we'd talk more about it when he was back in town.
With relative peace of mind achieved, I vowed to stay off the phone for the rest of the evening and read instead. Of course I was only partly successful, but I'm a quarter of the way into a novel I bought at lunchtime yesterday so I'm content. The book is Eva sleeps, an English translation of Eva dorme by Francesca Melandri. I hadn't heard of Melandri before but I was intrigued by the South Tyrolean setting. She's woven a fair bit of the history and culture of the region into a fairly conventional family saga. It goes down easy. The folkloric bits are tasty and the rest doesn't tax my mind too much.
I also finished off a Dom DeLillo short story in one of my anthologies so I can finally say I've read him. I can see both the appeal of his style and the grounds for criticising his content. While at the bookstore, I considered picking up one of his novels but sense prevailed, which is how I walked out with just the Melandri and Emma Donoghue's Room. I nearly started reading the latter instead but I was worried it would be too dark for my mood and not escapist enough.
At some point, I realised I was hurting myself by trying to be too generous to Pasillero. The gist of his message to me was, "I'm going to do this thing which I know is kind of shitty and I need to hear you're not upset with me over it." Which, of course, I was. But I told myself, He's already anxious about the trip, what purpose would making him feel bad serve? So I replied "I'm not mad at all." Then I stewed for an hour.
Eventually I realised I was framing it wrong: His need to feel validated didn't trump my need to have my pain acknowledged. So I told him I was a little mad "but mostly at myself". Which is true, since I've been in this kind of asymmetrical situation before and I know what kind of toll it can take. He acknowledged that getting me to change plans and then cancelling was kind of a dick move and apologised for hurting me and I told him we'd talk more about it when he was back in town.
With relative peace of mind achieved, I vowed to stay off the phone for the rest of the evening and read instead. Of course I was only partly successful, but I'm a quarter of the way into a novel I bought at lunchtime yesterday so I'm content. The book is Eva sleeps, an English translation of Eva dorme by Francesca Melandri. I hadn't heard of Melandri before but I was intrigued by the South Tyrolean setting. She's woven a fair bit of the history and culture of the region into a fairly conventional family saga. It goes down easy. The folkloric bits are tasty and the rest doesn't tax my mind too much.
I also finished off a Dom DeLillo short story in one of my anthologies so I can finally say I've read him. I can see both the appeal of his style and the grounds for criticising his content. While at the bookstore, I considered picking up one of his novels but sense prevailed, which is how I walked out with just the Melandri and Emma Donoghue's Room. I nearly started reading the latter instead but I was worried it would be too dark for my mood and not escapist enough.
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