I've been crabby lately.
And I'm not very good at it. It's like I've had no practice or something.
If I was more astrologically inclined, I'd say that it was because my rising sign was Cancer. And you know, cancer cells are made of little clams. Well, they're shaped like clams? They hook and pinch like them? Really, why the frell is this sign called Cancer? I should google it, but boy, then I'd be that bit more astrologically inclined.
Maybe I Was Just Cold...
The other day I was walking to work in the fog. A chilly fog, but it put me in a pleasant mood. I like being slightly cold: if I could pick any temperature for my outdoor environment, it would be 15 celsius, and indoors about 18; I generate alot of heat, which makes me a wise choice to snuggle up to (in winter I say that I am half-malamute). Normally I do not notice anything on my half hour walk to work. I've walked it hundreds of times, over the last decade, I know every leaf, I know where all the different birds are, ya da ya do; in addition, i'm walking at 8 in the morning, and I am not a morning person. I'm just no good at waking up.
Well, it was about 3 degrees out, and I was wearing shorts, a t-shirt, shoes but no socks, and a fleece vest. This definitely woke me up (I really hate that "ennervated" means the opposite of what it sounds like it should mean. I ascertain that my co-worker just learned the word, as he uses it about twice a week), and I actually paid attention to things. Do you remember the fog? Well, it evoked all these memories of childhood fog, or rather, the mood of being in fog when I was young. I love this sort of thing, when childhood states of mind are grafted on to current experiences.* I felt small and isolated, like I was alone on a soundstage. Plus everything seemed strange, unknown, like something does when you have had no experience with it. I didn't feel like I was outdoors, but rather in some impossibly huge indoor space. There was a black cat sitting (no, do not say "on the shadow of a gatepost", because it was...) on a doorstep, and he spooked me a little. Weird, because I love cats, and one of my favourite ones is black with orange eyes and I call her Ghost.
I shivered. looked to my right, and saw a big fluffy grey tabby looking at me from behind a picture window, and she wanted outside (I am randomly assigning these cats sexes, but for some bizarro land reason I feel like I am 100% correct). I laughed a bit, out loud, which I hope the fog swallowed up, or maybe it carried all spooky through the vapour, becoming distorted with the weird echoes of water, and frightened a small child blocks away. I laughed, for I thought that the cat, if outside, would probably just be sitting on her step, not six feet away, sitting beside those shoes, looking just as bored as the black cat did, and not be all imaginatively longing as she was.
This thought ended my childhood mood grafting experience, but as that mood left it said "shoes", which echoed in my head for a few blocks.
shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes,...
*My favourite? One day, in the morning while walking (hmmm), I saw colours as I did when I was ten. Everthing was more vibrant, more there, but lacked nuance, epsecially of shade, but also of detail: it was like being in primary colour land. Plus, I also felt like I was ten. Boy did I have energy. Everything was just so immediate and vital. After about 15 minutes this slowly faded.
Remember My Crabbiness?
The echo of the childhood mood lasted until about noon, at which point I became the crabby person that I have been lately. Irritable, not nearly as jokey as I like to be. I take things too seriously, realize too late the opportunities for playful banter, become massively enraged when some asshat broke the photocopier (trying to "fix" it, when all it needed was new toner. fuckhead. grrr. wasted half an hour of my time undoing what he did, getting toner all over everything. guess this still means i'm a bit peaved). I definitely needed that martini at lunch, and Amanda was a perk me up. Work brought me down again.
I feel dull these last few days. Like i'm wrapped in plastic. My affect wires intermittently short, giving me slo-mo emotional white noise. It may be due to my recent discovery that I am flat broke. Impecunious. In the infra-red. I discovered that Visa let me go way over my limit, meaning that I couldn't afford at all that trip to V that i took last month. I have to live like an ascetic for the next few months, or at least learn how to be social while broke. Relearn, as I used to always be broke but very social. What this really means is that I have effectively stopped drinking. One or two pints once or twice a week does not my meds comprise. I often joked that alcohol was my meds, that I was born three jokes shy of dealing with the world, but now it feels true.
Not that I think that i am boring if I don't drink. good god no. but I am definitely feeling some sort of withdrawal. I'm sure my liver is thanking me, but my brain is wondering what it did so horribly wrong as to deserve this punishment.
I really hope the rumor is true that Schmutzie is coming into town tonight. It seems I need excuses (I think others call these "reasons") to go drinking lately, and she is one of the best.
-starcat carefully avoids going all "Office-Space" while the owner is in town.