Back to normal. Normal being a bit narky. Funny this. I’ve got all these things going on, and most of them not much good. I write a little about that here, and sometimes even give some insight as to how I feel about that. Out in the real world there’s little sign of that. I don’t mope. I don’t talk about my problems. I show no signs of self-pity. I doubt even that I seem particularly affected.
This has been a part of my problem over the years. I’ve always seemed so glib and in control that people just naturally assume I’m okay, nothing to see here. That’s even when they know the circumstances of my situation. I think I appear above it all, and supremely self-sufficient. I’m the one who asks questions of others, but rarely is questioned myself because I look to control the conversation. I think sometimes that I must present as completely unflappable. I think often that people are wary of breaching that aura of independence. I complain sometimes that I’m misunderstood, but really it’s my own fault.
Back to normal is pretty well that. I took another hit yesterday. A disappointment that left me further out-of-pocket. It wobbled me for a bit. Like a wobble you develop when you’re riding your bike you either spill, or you regain control and correct the wobble. Somewhat remarkably I never spill, though sometimes the wobble looks severe. There’s something in my nature that restores equilibrium sooner or later. In this case it means I simply accept the latest misfortune, yeah right, next… It’s done, it can’t be rectified now, deal with it and move on.
That’s how it is. Deal with the tangibles. Treat the situation with some disdain. That’s what happens when you’re set up like I am. I don’t expect charity, or even good fortune. There is some bitterness in the belligerence, but it’s not of the toxic kind. I do feel unreasonably dealt with, but I have to accept that.* I’m either this in control dude or my words snap and crackle with a dry, pointed wit. There’s a combination of the ‘what next?’ and ‘bring it on’ in that attitude – been there, done that, survived and bought the fucking t-shirt. That’s how I feel now, like it’s a personal affront and I’m not going to be the one to blink first.
*There was a moment about a week ago when I refused to accept it. It wasn’t wrong, just different. I’m not a believer in ‘deserving’ things. The world doesn’t work that way, I know. In my philosophy you have to work for what you want, and fight occasionally when you must. The satisfaction is supreme when you reap the rewards you have worked so hard for. That’s not the situation presently. I’ve worked and fought and tried to out-think things and nothing has changed and in the general theory of how I go about things that only means that I have to keep working and fighting and thinking, and do it better. That’s how I operate, and it’s no bad thing. But then last week I thought, enough! I’m a good person, I thought. I’m kind and considerate. I’m compassionate and fair. I’m no paragon of virtue, but I’m pretty good really. I thought this and thought fuck it, I deserve better! Damned right that I do! This isn’t fair or right or just! For a little while I allowed myself the freedom of being angry and aggrieved. It’s liberating to feel hard done by, but it’s no way to live.
It passed, as it must do. What I deserve has no say in things. Besides, I read something on twitter that made me smile. “People think that God is testing them,” it went, or thereabouts, “but no, he’s just fucking with you.” A capricious God I can understand, and it motivated me again.