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Upsie-daisy
Saturday may have been the most up-and-down day of all last weekend. It's certainly the one whose impact has lingered the most, which is why I've been putting off writing about it.
It started out on low ebb with bad sleep and one of the most hideous dreams I've had in ages, twinning my fear of disease and disfigurement with my fear of abandonment. It's hard to explain exactly, but several of us were infected with nanomites by some mysterious bad actors. Somehow I managed to leak details of their code to experts who could use them to overcome the infection and, in retaliation, the bad actors caused them excise parts of my cranium and vital organs.
I pleaded with the experts to save me but they said the information I had could only be used to prevent future attacks, not to undo the one on me. For some reason, nobody considered taking me to a hospital; they just left me to my fate. Then, out of nowhere, "Monshu" arrived (I knew it was him even though the resemblance was vague at best) and I asked him to just stay and hold me until I died.
After that, I tried to get back to sleep but it just wasn't happening. I debated with myself whether to go to the townhall meeting hosted by my new alderman and eventually convinced myself to go. It was the right choice; the meeting was extremely informative and better-run than I'd anticipated. (Amazingly, there wasn't anything I would call a typical ranty non-question.) I had a terrific conversation with his head of policy, who happens to be the son of a favourite former coworker, and I left energised about local government.
To keep the momentum going, I stopped in again at Uncharted Books and had another chat with Tanner, who showed me a Nietzschean children's book they'd recently gotten in. I'm still considering getting it for my nephews. I hungry and craving something sweet so I betook myself to Bongo Room and had french toast that was essentially bread pudding on the back patio. After that, it was a stop at Independent Spirits to get the wine for Sunday's gathering. I got the same beardo as last month and when I told him we'd only placed second, he responded, "We can do better than that!" (How am I going to break the news to him?)
Then I got home and everything took a turn.
A couple weeks ago, one of the neighbours asked me what I thought of trimming back the smoketree and I told her absolutely not. I don't know if she conveyed that to her partner or not. I do know that when I got home that day, it had been hacked down to fraction of its size. I don't think I have to explain here how furious that made me. No one was around, so I texted both of them to ask what the hell? (I phrased it more diplomatically.) She responded that she had no idea; he said, "We just want things to look nice", which was as good as an admission of guilt.
We haven't spoken since. I replied to the effect that, since we're not all going to agree on what "looks nice", we should talk to each other before making significant changes--something I would've thought went without saying. I got a one-word reply. I didn't run into them the rest of day Saturday and since then have seen them only in passing and uttered pleasantries.
In the meantime, I've thought way too much about how to explain to them why this upsets me so. I've crafted a half-dozen different arguments, trying to single out the approach most likely to succeed. But if there's anything I've learned over the years, it's that all your argumentation is moot unless the other person is willing to show goodwill and listen. So far, they haven't shown any signs they are.
It hurts especially because, unlike with the couple upstairs, I felt I had a real rapport with them. I know we didn't see exactly eye-to-eye on the landscaping, but we'd spar about our differences in a friendly way and ultimately find a compromise. But they didn't trust me enough to do that in this case; they apparently decided (correctly) that I didn't share their vision so they waited until I wasn't around to carry it out. It feels like a betrayal and I don't know if our budding friendship can survive it.
At the moment, I was especially upset at being--yet again--robbed of sleep. I'd hoped for a nap so that I could more fully enjoy the block party that afternoon (which I felt especially in need of after the Friday night fiasco) and I was doubtful I could calm down enough. In the end, meditation and CBT (and cat therapy!) got me to where I needed to be to doze maybe a half-hour.
And I did enjoy that party. The weather was breathtakingly perfect. I brought fresh longans I'd snatched up at Tai Nam on the way to the wine store and people gamely tried them, rekindling the debate on how much like semen they tasted. I had at least one great conversation with a newbie and got to introduce Diego and his boyfriend to a recent acquaintance I thought they'd hit it off with and they did.
So ultimately a great day. But it had the potential to be a nearly flawless day and that was squandered due to my sensitivity to the thoughtlessness of others. I regret this and yet I can't imagine being free of it entirely. I wouldn't recognise myself in someone that indifferent, that hardened.
It started out on low ebb with bad sleep and one of the most hideous dreams I've had in ages, twinning my fear of disease and disfigurement with my fear of abandonment. It's hard to explain exactly, but several of us were infected with nanomites by some mysterious bad actors. Somehow I managed to leak details of their code to experts who could use them to overcome the infection and, in retaliation, the bad actors caused them excise parts of my cranium and vital organs.
I pleaded with the experts to save me but they said the information I had could only be used to prevent future attacks, not to undo the one on me. For some reason, nobody considered taking me to a hospital; they just left me to my fate. Then, out of nowhere, "Monshu" arrived (I knew it was him even though the resemblance was vague at best) and I asked him to just stay and hold me until I died.
After that, I tried to get back to sleep but it just wasn't happening. I debated with myself whether to go to the townhall meeting hosted by my new alderman and eventually convinced myself to go. It was the right choice; the meeting was extremely informative and better-run than I'd anticipated. (Amazingly, there wasn't anything I would call a typical ranty non-question.) I had a terrific conversation with his head of policy, who happens to be the son of a favourite former coworker, and I left energised about local government.
To keep the momentum going, I stopped in again at Uncharted Books and had another chat with Tanner, who showed me a Nietzschean children's book they'd recently gotten in. I'm still considering getting it for my nephews. I hungry and craving something sweet so I betook myself to Bongo Room and had french toast that was essentially bread pudding on the back patio. After that, it was a stop at Independent Spirits to get the wine for Sunday's gathering. I got the same beardo as last month and when I told him we'd only placed second, he responded, "We can do better than that!" (How am I going to break the news to him?)
Then I got home and everything took a turn.
A couple weeks ago, one of the neighbours asked me what I thought of trimming back the smoketree and I told her absolutely not. I don't know if she conveyed that to her partner or not. I do know that when I got home that day, it had been hacked down to fraction of its size. I don't think I have to explain here how furious that made me. No one was around, so I texted both of them to ask what the hell? (I phrased it more diplomatically.) She responded that she had no idea; he said, "We just want things to look nice", which was as good as an admission of guilt.
We haven't spoken since. I replied to the effect that, since we're not all going to agree on what "looks nice", we should talk to each other before making significant changes--something I would've thought went without saying. I got a one-word reply. I didn't run into them the rest of day Saturday and since then have seen them only in passing and uttered pleasantries.
In the meantime, I've thought way too much about how to explain to them why this upsets me so. I've crafted a half-dozen different arguments, trying to single out the approach most likely to succeed. But if there's anything I've learned over the years, it's that all your argumentation is moot unless the other person is willing to show goodwill and listen. So far, they haven't shown any signs they are.
It hurts especially because, unlike with the couple upstairs, I felt I had a real rapport with them. I know we didn't see exactly eye-to-eye on the landscaping, but we'd spar about our differences in a friendly way and ultimately find a compromise. But they didn't trust me enough to do that in this case; they apparently decided (correctly) that I didn't share their vision so they waited until I wasn't around to carry it out. It feels like a betrayal and I don't know if our budding friendship can survive it.
At the moment, I was especially upset at being--yet again--robbed of sleep. I'd hoped for a nap so that I could more fully enjoy the block party that afternoon (which I felt especially in need of after the Friday night fiasco) and I was doubtful I could calm down enough. In the end, meditation and CBT (and cat therapy!) got me to where I needed to be to doze maybe a half-hour.
And I did enjoy that party. The weather was breathtakingly perfect. I brought fresh longans I'd snatched up at Tai Nam on the way to the wine store and people gamely tried them, rekindling the debate on how much like semen they tasted. I had at least one great conversation with a newbie and got to introduce Diego and his boyfriend to a recent acquaintance I thought they'd hit it off with and they did.
So ultimately a great day. But it had the potential to be a nearly flawless day and that was squandered due to my sensitivity to the thoughtlessness of others. I regret this and yet I can't imagine being free of it entirely. I wouldn't recognise myself in someone that indifferent, that hardened.