paisleypiper's Diaryland
Diary
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water works
Can�t sleep, again. I think it is because it is a dark and rainy night. A writerly sort of night. And I was all snuggled up in bed, after being really tired, only to think about the made-up term �mythograph� and become really awake. Sometimes I play a game in my mind where I blend two words together and then see whether that leads me to a new thought. A mythograph is a single instance of a myth, frozen, not changing, from which one can see and deduce relationships only in that single instance.
I told Quinn, I like bears in the abstract. In reality they seem like they would be disappointing. They probably have really matted fur and fish breath. A bear is an example of an animal that mythographs well. Definitely one of those extremely silly thoughts, just the sort of thought that functions rather more as an excuse to wrap up in a fuzzy blanket and �
I�m drowning in work from my two classes and I�m drowning in work from work. But this evening, after a long day in which I did the unthinkable and practically unspeakable, it seemed like a good night to watch a movie. Not a new movie, but an old movie. There is a difference in mood and hankering � tonight was an Annie Hall hankering. I can anticipate every scene in this movie � I don�t know how many dozens of times I�ve watched it over the years � but it still makes me smile. Sometimes in my life I think �what I wouldn�t give for a large sock with horse manure in it.� Sometimes I picture pulling such a sock down over the esquire�s head.
As I mentioned, today I did the unspeakable. I had an emotional melt down at work. And I cried. And I got Stella crying (not out of any meanness of mine but just because � ). And the faculty joint-appointment person, she doesn�t have a title in the office but does back in her faculty home, called me sweetie three times.
The community liaison kept trying to tell me how to act. It became too much rather quickly because I am a mature adult, and know how to act. But I would like to see the community liaison take the crud I take and then act the way she told me to act.
The esquire attacked me at staff meeting after misunderstanding where I was with a project � to go into the project would take a long time, but it is a huge project and I have been working extremely hard on it. But the last I spoke to the esquire she said �go forth and execute; do whatever you need to do on it I don�t care.� So I haven�t been running to her with drafts because she said she didn�t care. And besides, I have a faculty director (not the one who called me sweetie three times this morning) and I�ve been running to her with drafts.
When the community liaison was telling me I shouldn�t be defensive I felt as though walls were pressing in on me and a couldn�t breathe, and anger was rising in my body � but the best I could do was cry.
Cry. In front of everyone. I jumped up and ran in the other room, and when I got pulled back together and returned, I was told that I should not have run into the other room by the community liaison. That I should be able to just cry right there in front of them. This is something to remember � when a person is having a breakdown and are told that they are not doing that correctly, in all seriousness, something is wrong with the office culture. Because there is no right way to melt down into tears of anger and frustration. I chose to excuse myself for a minute.
I did not tip over a table, throw a chair against a wall, bang my fist, throw coffee at her or push her down. All of the wild �fight or flight� fantasies flashing through my brain. I sat there and drew a great rendition of our glass office coffee mugs. Quinn would have been proud of this drawing � it was just right. It really looked like a glass coffee mug, empty, of its coffee. I also drew a prison with Silver on the outside with a rope. I being the lone ranger stuck in jail while the community liaison lectured me about how I should have behaved when the esquire verbally attacked me. How it was wrong of me to get defensive. She�s been jumping down my back so long, I honestly cannot be anything but defensive.
But still, here I am, up in the middle of the night, unable to shake it that I cried. And not just cried but rather pathetically said �I don�t like it here. I don�t feel comfortable. I can�t be myself at this office.� As I cried. Herein lies the double bind of the closet. Because I think I would out myself if I thought it would help that pain, but I know it wouldn�t. It goes beyond issues of �the closet� to issues of who gets to be a person and who is not. And it feels horrible to be responsible for things, to make decisions and move forward with programs but to also be treated as a non-entity. To be told that I don�t count, which is, once again, what the esquire told me during staff meeting.
I�m so busy I can�t undertake a job search right now. I am holding on until May. And then I will figure out what to do.
1:26 a.m. - 2003-02-15
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