(no subject)

 Some, but not all of the grownupping I should have gotten done today

 

Called the dealership to see if I could bring the car in, they told me bring her next week, any morning and hung up before I could ask any questions. 

 

Called one place and emailed two to try to find someone to shave Noisy.

 

Called Somerville Parking about stickers, they said just leave my receipt in my window and it'll be the same.  Considering I started this process May 1st, for a parking sticker that ran out May 31st, finally got approved to pay on June 2 and did so.  So now, I wait.

 

I'm listening to a new audio book that involves a second voice whispering things under the main narrative and it is very much Not Okay and if I was looking for horror to really creep me out, I found it. My brain's always been a little overactive that way, looking for voices where there are none.  I used to think that when people talked about voices they meant the kind I heard, which sound like people whispering something around the corner that I can never quite make out.   I used to hear it in all the white noise sounds, especially in college and ended up only being able to sleep to the sound of a beating heart, because it was rhythmic enough I could tune it out.  Later I learned, to my relief, that it wasn't that kind of voice people were talking about. 

 

but I really want to keep listening to this book and I also never want to listen to it again.  Maybe Parker Posey's self-read autobiography will be engaging instead.

 

So, in the past few days I've hung out with Light's parents, crossed paths with Goodhugs' parents and talked across some large divide with Abundance about his parents.   I continue to feel like some strange iteration of feral, but tinged with a fear that I'm actually protesting too much to myself and that this detachment is a lie I'm telling myself because I don't want to be emotionally beholden to the people who raised me, such as they did.  And I wonder if I'd participated more directly in this chain, if I was in turn carrying the expectation that children I raised would care for me in my dotage, I'd feel more hooked into my own parents.  And Light asks me if I'll take care of him when he's in his dotage and of course I will, so it's not that I'm heartless and abandon everyone.  

 

 Bitchface once told me I was dead inside and it's rattled around in my head ever since.  I don't know if someone told me that I was before she did, I'd be unsurprised, I've been called ungrateful and cold and heartless by different people at different times and I know that detachment is a survival skill cultivated by a younger me that I still don't feel safe enough to get rid of.  And I'm not a clinician, and I haven't even kept track of the diagnoses I've accreted, this is all half personal study and half observation.

 

Abundance and I spent the evening doing a jigsaw puzzle while watching World of Dance.  It's a 2000 piece picture of a Matthew Cusick wave and it makes me long for a creative bone in my body with which to play with maps.  Which is another tangent about wanting more hobbies, more opportunities to make things that persist longer than it takes to eat the leftovers but not knowing where to start or what I want to commit the funds to.    

 

But, speaking of committing funds, I finally bought myself an umbrella stand and a fancy-ish door mat to attempt to feel better about the entranceway to my house.  I realized I need a little more positively framed housemagic, and the front stairs seemed like a very good place to start.   Next step might be finally stitching the snarky cross stitch "please leave by nine" for the interior door.