Hi everyone,
Well, today got off to an 'interesting' start. And it got off to it early, in the form of three seriously weird dreams. When I say weird, I‘m talking about the sort of weird that had me scanning the label of last night's bottle of wine thinking "what the Hell are they putting in this stuff?". Anyway, the wine didn‘t contain anything you wouldn‘t have expected, so I just wondered vaguely what my subconscious was trying to tell me and went and had a shower and got the day underway.
I‘d earmarked the day to go to the office (surprise sur-sodding-prise) and by the time I got in there I was feeling distinctly strange. That is, my head felt like my brain was swelling inside it, there was a constant twitching ringing noise in my ears, I was having trouble thinking clearly, my eyes felt like they were about to start doing this zoom-lens thing, and anything contentious had me becoming insanely combative. After a while it dawned on me that I'd now forgotten my medication two mornings running, and that the last time this happened I'd felt exactly the same way (that time was last December, and unfortunately was the morning I was meant to be running a highly contentious matter in the Magistrates Court; I wound up screwing up badly enough for it to be raised in the performance management meetings). I was feeling bad enough to consider going back to Brunswick to rectify the situation but decided to press on since I was there. I managed to get more-or-less into my stride, apart from feeling a bit strange and (at about 9:00pm) I had this weird feeling that Davy Jones from Pirates of the Caribbean was about to come around the corner and lurch into my office with cutlass in tentacle. This was less fun than it sounds: for one thing, there was nothing on the syllabus at law school about dealing with homicidal octopodal figments of your own imagination.
What was actually worse was that I heard that bad voice of mine coming out again. There was a story in the Sunday Age newspaper over an utterly insignificant issue that I began composing a response to inside my head. This is where that voice came out. I'm sure you know the voice I mean. Some of you have been unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of mine. The one that drips with contempt and disgust and barely concealed rage. The one that's aggressive and obnoxious and that won't concede anything and talks over the top of any disagreement. It honestly makes me ashamed to think of the times Joni was on the receiving end of mine. Sometimes it was over utterly unimportant things (the merits of Harry Potter novels or the movies Casino Royale or 300). Sometimes it was over things that really did matter (no, I'm not giving specifics). Do I wonder why a lot of the time she preferred to spend time with her friends rather than with me? Not really, no.
>Sigh<
Sometimes sorry is an utterly inadequate word.
The day wasn't, in any event, a huge success. I cranked out a fairly detailed letter of advice, but by 11pm I was out of time to do the case review that I need to finish by tomorrow. There'll be trouble over that. Dinner at the office was an improvement on the last crop of office dinners and was kind of the high point of the day (it turns out it's possible to make up a packet pasta with bell pepper and tuna using the cookware in the office kitchen). So, at least there's culinary progress being made.
OK. It's late and it's surely bedtime.
See you tomorrow.
Well, today got off to an 'interesting' start. And it got off to it early, in the form of three seriously weird dreams. When I say weird, I‘m talking about the sort of weird that had me scanning the label of last night's bottle of wine thinking "what the Hell are they putting in this stuff?". Anyway, the wine didn‘t contain anything you wouldn‘t have expected, so I just wondered vaguely what my subconscious was trying to tell me and went and had a shower and got the day underway.
I‘d earmarked the day to go to the office (surprise sur-sodding-prise) and by the time I got in there I was feeling distinctly strange. That is, my head felt like my brain was swelling inside it, there was a constant twitching ringing noise in my ears, I was having trouble thinking clearly, my eyes felt like they were about to start doing this zoom-lens thing, and anything contentious had me becoming insanely combative. After a while it dawned on me that I'd now forgotten my medication two mornings running, and that the last time this happened I'd felt exactly the same way (that time was last December, and unfortunately was the morning I was meant to be running a highly contentious matter in the Magistrates Court; I wound up screwing up badly enough for it to be raised in the performance management meetings). I was feeling bad enough to consider going back to Brunswick to rectify the situation but decided to press on since I was there. I managed to get more-or-less into my stride, apart from feeling a bit strange and (at about 9:00pm) I had this weird feeling that Davy Jones from Pirates of the Caribbean was about to come around the corner and lurch into my office with cutlass in tentacle. This was less fun than it sounds: for one thing, there was nothing on the syllabus at law school about dealing with homicidal octopodal figments of your own imagination.
What was actually worse was that I heard that bad voice of mine coming out again. There was a story in the Sunday Age newspaper over an utterly insignificant issue that I began composing a response to inside my head. This is where that voice came out. I'm sure you know the voice I mean. Some of you have been unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of mine. The one that drips with contempt and disgust and barely concealed rage. The one that's aggressive and obnoxious and that won't concede anything and talks over the top of any disagreement. It honestly makes me ashamed to think of the times Joni was on the receiving end of mine. Sometimes it was over utterly unimportant things (the merits of Harry Potter novels or the movies Casino Royale or 300). Sometimes it was over things that really did matter (no, I'm not giving specifics). Do I wonder why a lot of the time she preferred to spend time with her friends rather than with me? Not really, no.
>Sigh<
Sometimes sorry is an utterly inadequate word.
The day wasn't, in any event, a huge success. I cranked out a fairly detailed letter of advice, but by 11pm I was out of time to do the case review that I need to finish by tomorrow. There'll be trouble over that. Dinner at the office was an improvement on the last crop of office dinners and was kind of the high point of the day (it turns out it's possible to make up a packet pasta with bell pepper and tuna using the cookware in the office kitchen). So, at least there's culinary progress being made.
OK. It's late and it's surely bedtime.
See you tomorrow.
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