The Not Happy Thread

Today got to 30 degrees C here for the first time since winter. The steaming furnace that passes for Summer here is well and truly on the final approach.

 

Feeling crushed.

 

Why for?

 

What seems like a really mean critique of something I wrote. Only, the person who provided this feedback has no reason to be mean to me. But the feedback was personal and directed at me as a writer, and I don't know how else to take it. They said the worst things that would really get to me. It was almost like, how could you write this? You must be a shitty person. And now I'm left wondering how could I write this and am I a shitty person for having done so?

 

Assholes are like opinions. Everyone has one.

Don't let this get you down. Let these kind of critiques enter from one ear and get out from the other. What a person concludes about you in regards to your writing is their problem, not yours.

 

Terrible tension headache this afternoon. No relief until post work after a Mcdonald's binge, downing four Ibuprofen with Coke Zero, listening and partially watching random Youtube recommendations. Not happy turned to okay, suppose.

 

Don't let them, whoever they are, confuse your writing with yourself. You are a different person from what you write, and fuck anyone who doesn't get that.

It's hard sometimes to know how words on a screen can impact the receiver. I've made this mistake occassionally as well, and I'm ashamed for it. If they are friends, you can talk to them and tell them about your feelings.

 

I just had a guy in the store try to get one over on me. His purchase totaled $9.62, after tax, he hands me a $10 bill, and I gave him 38 cents change. He starts insisting he gave me a $50 and demands I give him the rest of his change.

I learned a long time ago to not put money in the drawer till everything is done. I put the money on top of the keyboard, give the change, and wish the customer a pleasant day. (That wish is only for today, though. Tomorrow, you’re on your own.)

So when he started insisting he gave me a $50, I picked up his $10 and showed it to him. ‘You mean this?’
Then he demands to speak to the manager.

Hi, how can I help you?

 

Yeah. If you're anything like me, the hurt here isn't about the writing, it's about the relationship. Sounds like this person was someone you trusted--- and they shoved the knife in like this?

 

I'm going to message you what was said to me.

 

Not exactly unhappy, but annoyed with myself.

Found out late last night that I left the power adapter to my laptop at my mom's uninhabited apartment when I went to catch my flight home early yesterday morning. I used the laptop on the plane, and the battery is nearly dead.

The bigger joke is that I realized I'd left my travel mug upstairs when I was still in the retirement complex parking lot. But I'd locked the keyfob in the apartment to be picked up later, and there was only one person at the front desk and she was reluctant to leave her station. If I could have gone back up I could have done a final sweep and seen the power cord was still plugged in . . .

I've ordered a replacement. It's supposed to come on Sunday. Till then, I have to make do with my phone, and I can't work on my novel.

Yeah, I'll deal with it. But I'm still wondering how I could have left that, of all things, behind.

 

And they get expressed frequently.

 

Now I am unhappy. My mom's doctor called late this afternoon to discuss her living options after she gets out of skilled nursing next month. In this context the doctor tells me that Mom's in the early stage of dementia, and given her age (going on 91) and her recent weight loss, we may have her with us only six months more.

Well, thank you for letting me know, Ms. Doctor Lady. As we used to say in my theological college, "not very pastoral."

 

I love my job, I really do, but this last few weeks have taken the proverbial.

No stable base, moving around every lesson, no secure bubbles were all problems we anticipated, but the goalposts are constantly moving. Thanks to the new need for remote learning and planning, my work time has in effect now extended to 6:30am to 9:30pm Monday to Friday, 9-5 on a Saturday, and now 8:30-12 on a Sunday. That's no time to take the time needed for anyone to retain their wellbeing.

Add to that my marking load has only just kicked in. I have 16 essays per week to mark, at about 20 minutes each, plus around 120 books at 5-10 minutes. That's on top of the existing. It isn't sustainable. It isn't healthy. We've only been back 3 weeks. It's going to be a very long year.

 

Oh my focking god. I'm left with 5 cigarettes. I pray for their fucking souls that they open at 5 sharp...

 

must...have...NICOTINE!

 

All closed due to new, retarded covid regulations. 5 mins to go....

 

Sorry to hear this. It sounds exploitative, ostensibly in the name of responding to the dreaded pandemic. Time to train an AI bot to do your work for you so you can go to the beach and pretend to be working?

 

I lost my dad last year after a long battle with kidney failure. The doctors were also very sterile about his prognosis too, but at least it gave us time to prepare. It's one hell of a shock, but looking back I'm pleased we had enough time to spend time with him, say our goodbyes and clear up any issues before it was too late. They were surprisingly accurate on the time he had left as well.

 

Everything is okay now. I just had the most heartwarming moment with my kiosk seller. He was just opening. I was his first customer. We fucking hugged. I think we bonded. The world is coming to an end.

 

Sorry for your loss.

 

Here's the odd thing: When the doctor told me that, I was looking out my third-floor study window at a maple tree that was just starting to change color. It's inevitable that that those leaves will change entirely and drop to the ground. I may always associate leaves turning with facing my mother's approaching end.

I hope we will be able to say goodbyes. Going on the advice of her doctor and social worker, I found Mom a good, affordable age-in-place assisted living situation where I would be able to see her (with social distancing, etc.) when I come back to her city the end of October. The affordability depended on our accepting an advertised special off before the end of September. But the relative who holds the financial power of attorney refuses to believe Mom qualifies for assisted living, even though the doctor told me so, even though the social worker told her Mom does. No, she refuses to commit, even though that lost us the special offer. She insists she has to talk to the doctor herself, and the doctor wasn't able to call her back on the 30th.

Even without the discounts, the place I found is still the least expensive for the level of care they offer. I hope Mom ends up there after all, or at least someplace I'll be able to see her in person before the end. For Ms. POA, who is an in-law, that's not important. She points out that a lot of people haven't been able to see their dying loved ones due to the COVID, and I shouldn't expect to, either.

Crap.