Wow. So I got my first bit of hate mail on FB; that’s a definitely mile pole. It was over the little shit who confronted a First Nation Elder in Washington. You’ve probably seen it. A Catholic boy (which means he’s a liar; the Catholic faith teaches it’s okay to lie all the time and then do penance on Sundays) claims he wasn’t being disrespectful. Dudes! If you can’t recognize that schwarmy smile on his face as being taunting, you can’t read human body language AT ALL. Sent off a reply, calling a cunt a cunt.
Hm. Seems the Universe is trying to get me angry. It was going on all day yesterday and here it is continuing. I mean…this person who left this tirade is NO ONE. Not a friend of mine, nothing. Just some random person who probably spends all their time hunting out anti-45 postings to leave such hateful shit for replies.
Yesterday…Gods!! I love my teachers but I HATE my fellow students. I’m now experiencing the mean girls’ approach of ‘pretend she doesn’t exist’. No responses to my greetings, no acknowledging me if I walk into the room. I sat alone during the break. One female joined me and we engaged in stilted conversation for a short time. Her Dutch is terrible, even tho she’s lived her twenty some years. She puts a ‘ah’ after every single word. Granted, the Dutch do that a lot and combined with their accent that often drops the last ‘n’ in a word so it sounds like a ‘ah’ even tho it’s not, I guess in a way it’s understandable. However, I have a very difficult time comprehending this woman because of that. Hell! I have a difficult time understanding everyone in the class; no one speaks as well as I. I sure as fuck don’t want to pick up incorrect pronunciation from them, nor do I want to learn their poor grammar. Besides, their conversation (when I’ve participated) is all along 2 lines: children, and problems with immigration. Nothing I can add to, nothing that interests me in the least. No culture, no books, no fucking films, nothing I may have the slightest interest in. And then they break off into their native languages, leaving me well out of it… Anyway. She sat, we said a couple of things back and forth. Ho, hum. Then another student sat down, ignoring me completely, and they began talking in whatever language was native to them. I fiddled with my phone, looking at the apps and wasting time so it didn’t seem like I felt that diss. At some point, the new woman said quickly to me: Oh! Sorry, Beeps. I didn’t respond. Why? She knew what the fuck she was doing, positioning her chair so I was cut out and switching immediately into a language I don’t know. This is what happens, and I hate them for it. Just fucking leave me alone, you know? I’ll bring a book and happily read. But this fake back and forth, like you’re gonna try to be nice to me or some such shit, and then just using it to diss me one more time as you exclude me entirely -? Fuck off.
… *sigh* See? Things are just riling me up left and right.
The snow is finally here, falling with soft flakes on everything, coating it that whiter than white only virgin snow has. My injections are scheduled to be delivered this afternoon, so I need to hang out here. But I may get my snow shoes and this morning and go tromp outside. Just to do it. Tromping in snow is fun, especially when a warm room is close by.
Note: I’ve woken up in the middle of the night a few times over the last couple of days. I’m not looking at the clock; I find no reason to do that any more. I wake up coughing, unable to stop. Found that sitting up in bed helps, tho I’m exhausted when I do it. And… I’ve taken to saying: ‘please leave me alone’ when this happens. Oddly after saying that, I’m usually able to lay back down and stop coughing.
Haven’t been writing. Letting it all just sit as I recharge. But I may get back to it today while I wait for my injections.
Feel I should wait, too, for…something. A change in the ether. A different energy. Really don’t know why I’ve felt so damned angry lately, nor why I’ve reacted so much to stuff that a month ago I may have just passed by with an eye roll. My thoughts are laden with images of First Nation. I’ve always been pretty sure I had an attachment with such a spirit in my childhood home. It seems like this entity has found me again. …Yeah, I know how that sounds: nuts. I also know what I’ve been feeling. This is very, very familiar to me.
Thursday I see Dr T. I’ll mention my angry feelings and how easily I’m getting riled up. Nothing else; there are levels of honesty, and I’ve learned where I should draw the line with shrinks. They don’t need to know every thought. Besides, I don’t like discussing it. Only in writing. Not out loud; never out loud! I avoid that like the plague. Somehow, no matter how real the experience, speaking it out loud drains the words of every bit of impact. They fall flat, stilted, odd – no matter what the room or audience size. Nope. You wanna know about that side of me, you gotta read my stuff.
That’s just the way it is.