Tuesday, 16th January '07
A Damsel in Distress is Crying for Help
So. I'm in something of a mammoth bad mood right now, and still with only a vague idea of why. I can sort of put my finger on the triggering event, but I'm still not even entirely sure why. I just get scream-worthily frustrated when good people use inexperience and present circumstances as an easy way to conclude a lower emotional quotient or be devastatingly psychologically unavailability. Or a possible early, untowed death.
Thanks Kai, for spending half a day with me. I didn't vent to you today, but you kept me busy where I would otherwise be spent brooding on my upset feelings. Maybe you're the reason I haven't yet cried today. This occured to me on the way home, and now I'm thinking maybe if I did it would at least work like the steam vent in the pressure cooker.
Maybe it's all just PMS. Goodness knows it should be about time.
Anyway, I prayed on the train ride home. It's one of those rare occasions I see a problem big enough for Him to get involved in. While raised on the "no problem is too small for God" doctrines, I hardly believe I can trouble Him with my petty affairs when Johor is flooding and there are still nuclear missiles in North Korea. It's not that I don't KNOW I can do it, it's that I don't BELIEVE it's the right thing to do, and therefore I don't do it sincerely. But I digress. The point is, that He gave me an immediate answer and I felt a whole lot better. For all of about 15 minutes.
The problem with a nagging worry of this all-pervading nature is just that. It's nagging and all-pervading, once the thought's been put in your head. Perhaps "permanantly implanted in your cranium" is a better way to express it - has more of that sense of foreboding. And much as I would like to champion my (slightly unorthodox) Christian faith, I see it to be extremely unproductive to drop everything and pray whenever some specific worry under the heading of this general genre of problem creeps up. Which, mark my words, is somewhat often, these past days.
The thing is, I don't like worrying about this. I don't even like ADMITTING to worrying about this; hence you don't see me telling you what this is all about here. As usual, all you need to know is that once I'm done venting, no one will see me express a hint of this anxiety in a physical form. Because it's stupid enough to need to spend effort hiding, and I really don't see what you can do to help anyway. All best that things go on as they are, really.
But everytime I think I can sweep it under the carpet of my skin, there it is again, staring me in the face. It's on the bus, on MSN, on newstands and on the streets. It's a disease designed to tear away at the soul of an otherwise healthy and normal me. So now I give way to melodrama. And every time I'm at the verge of this, something deep inside tells me to screw it all. Because, well, in the words of the Scissor Sisters, you're filthy and I'm gorgeous. Muahaha. Or as Spandau Ballet's wise words constantly remind me, "You are Gold. You have the power to know, you're indestructable." So then I go back to existing all nice and dandy for the next half an hour. Until I get reminded of the what I should be worrying about and the hunger and pain rushes in again to keep me company.
It's times like this I want a sibling so very much. Older would be very helpful. If not to talk to, then only to sleep in the same room with me at night so I don't have to be alone with my thoughts.
Oh, such a damsel in distress am I, sitting here in the quiet dark, waiting for daylight to start climbing the walls. Will somebody come rescue me? You will be rewarded in ways better than you can ever imagine. I guarantee it.
[7 photographs developed.]
Hallo. Just to say even if I am no good at rescuing damsels, I can always listen at any rate, should you want to talk. I know I'm not online much now that work has started but definitely drop me an email if that helps or let me know when and I can call/come online. If you don't want to talk, I hope you feel better soon!
hee... it's ok. our talking should be reserved for fun stuff. depressing stuff i should sit and write poetry about.
keyword: SHOULD. i probably never will. but never underestimate the power of the blog vent-post. i'm feeling almost cheerful today. i buried my anal self in properly filing last sem's work, and suddenly the problems of the outside world seemed to diminish in comparison.
hey! you should share your troubles with me.. dage is always here for you..even if i am not..i hold office hours on MSN 24/7
hahaa... you're funny, dage! but it's ok; really. no need to talk one. just entertain me if you see me online and beware my pms.
(i know thats just one word, but im sure that you understand the whole depth of emotions and meanings that come inside )