Deprifun

Archive for the ‘Love (or the lack thereof)’ Category

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Last night something momentous happened.  The BT was online in the dead of the night and I thought that maybe he was feeling lonely, too, or at any rate he would be very tired and unable to think too clearly, so I thought there might be a slight chance that he would reply to a goodnight star. Also because he knows that I send a goodnight star only right before logging off and going to bed, so there’s no risk of me jumping on the chance to – the horror!! – ask him how he is doing or even suggest coffee. He seems to have decided that my allowance is exactly one word a month, and replying to a goodnight is probably the safest option for him, so I thought I might tempt fate.

I gathered my nerves, which were lying haphazardly on the floor (a couple had rolled under the furniture and it was a drag to get them out, but in the process I found a bracelet I thought I had lost and also, surprisingly, a teapot), then tied them up nicely with a ribbon, conjured a little star in the chat window, took a deep breath, took another deep breath, took a third deep breath, told myself to stop taking first, and second, and third deep breaths or I would go into hyperventilation, and hit “send”.

For a split second, Time Stood Still. Then Time thought, “What am I doing here, standing still”? She blushed and with a little embarrassed smile she checked if anybody had seen her standing still so foolishly, and hurriedly sat down.

AND THE BT REPLIED!!!

He said… he said… “good night!”

* sighs contentedly *

And yet – darn. Good. Night. Two words!!! And since I’m only due one word a month… there goes my allowance for TWO WHOLE MONTHS! Now I’ll have to make do until the 28th of JULY!

Stupid Blasted Thing, it is GOODNIGHT! One. Word.

Grrrrrrr.

 

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“We are going to the cinema, care to come?” “We don’t know yet where we are going to spend the hols.” “Repairing the heating cost us a fortune”.

People talk about themselves in the plural form, and I always feel a pang of envy when they do. It means they have somebody they can count on, that they are a part of someone’s life.

With me, it is always “I”. “I could go to the cinema tomorrow. Or just stay home alone hoping some thief shows up for company or prank opportunities.” “I’m not going anywhere for the holidays: first, I have no money, plus, even if I had, travelling alone would just be depressing. I could perhaps bring the thieves with me, though.” “Repairing the heating cost me a fortune and frankly I only repaired it because it was a safety hazard. And while I thought the idea of just falling asleep and sleeping forever was rather appealing, the chimney sweeper found me out so I had to fix it.”

Just my luck, by the way. The only person in my life who is singular is the chimney sweeper, who’s clearly the only one in his trade who doesn’t have a magical nanny with whom to dance on the roof, so he can actually do his job which consists in getting me out of bed at an unholy hour just to tell me that I will need to starve myself in order to be able to save enough money to pay for the privilege of not suffocating.

So, only my chimney sweeper and I are singular, everybody else is plural. I wish I could be plural, too. All the while still wishing I was singular. Actually, I think I need a language where there’s no distinction between singular and plural. I have heard Japanese might do the trick?

It looks like I am developing a phobia for grammar; which by the way has a name (it’s called grammatophobia) and yet doesn’t seem to be a legitimate phobia, so I couldn’t research how this typically works and evolves. I might be the first person affected, ever.

Will this keep to singular and plurals, so I could really solve it by adopting a language with no distinction? Or will it extend to other, more or less random, grammatical elements? Perhaps an urge to punch in the face anybody who shows off with a particularly elaborate construction? And how to make the difference between a normal reaction (anybody would be slightly tense when faced with a past perfect subjunctive tense) and a pathological one (like crossing yourself every time you encounter a cardinal number)?

And will this stay limited to grammar, or will it invade other domains? I wouldn’t be surprised if I started being pissed off at even numbers – I’m always the odd one out, while everybody else comes in pairs. The number 1 is depressing in itself. So will I end up having to buy at least three of anything? Three shoes, three gloves, three watermelons? And what am I going to do with three watermelons anyway? I don’t even like melons, plus according to The Internet, they might be depressing. Or depressed. And shady. Definitely very shady. And possibly on drugs?

turn: terrible, do not eat watermelon, and depressed!!!!!!!

pigment powder with water saccharin tricks, melon conscience exposes insider traders –
Hot summer, eat a sweet red watermelon, both hot weather and thirst. When people of this natural fruit cooing when, who thought of commitment, these red and sweet watermelon, melon actually Meixin traders to earn money, injecting saccharin and coloring the water cooked out of it! Yesterday, a melon trafficking, told reporters this one blew the whistle on shady.
[actual internet wisdom – handbook case of terminal grammatophobia]

 

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Posted on: April 11, 2013

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When you have depression, I swear that you LITERALLY see it all black. I do, at least. When sadness creep on, it is like someone had dimmed the lights. Depression is a dreary, dark place.

Click.

Very dark.

Click.

Pitch black, in fact.

Click. Click, click, click.

OK, not THAT literally dark – oh shit, they have cut off my electric power.

So what do you do in such a situation? Well, first you turn on your computer, observe with dismay that you have only a couple of hours before you are cut off from the rest of the world, and send a pathetic Skype IM to the Blasted Thing of your choice, telling him vaguely and cutely that you are having some kind of a problem.

It’s really nothing you need his help for, but a reply would bring the light back to your heart at least, and who needs a light bulb when you have a heart full of light?  He is going to offer his help, say that he will call the electrical company in the morning so there will be no language problems, and in the meantime you can stay at his place and have a warm shower and recharge your batteries and get a goodnight kiss, and you will graciously decline, telling him that you are a strong, independent woman who has her shit together and has only had a  split second of weakness because of the shock, and how silly was that? And he will tell you that of course you are not silly, and that you can call him any time, and to let him know if you change your mind, and anyway a promised kiss is a kiss owed, and all will be right with the world and the sun will shine and the birds will chirp and they will only very rarely land droppings on your bike, and never on the saddle or on the handlebars.

In the Real World, the Blasted Thing didn’t reply, but I wasn’t crushed, because I know that he really cares about me. I just need to get WhatsApp.

Actually, when the computer finally died on me, I regretted sending that message: both computer and phone were now turned off, and since I hadn’t stated what my problem was, it sounded like it was something really serious, and he was going to get all worried and would probably drive to my place to check on me, and this would take him the best part of twenty minutes, and what was I going to tell him then? That all that fuss was about a power outage? I considered getting ready for the inevitability by staging a real emergency for when he would come pounding at my door, like smearing myself with raspberry jam and pretending I had cut myself, or jotting down the story of my beloved auntie Genoveffa who had just died, and how close we were when I was little, and how she taught me how to knit (exhibit number one: I scarf I actually knitted myself, drenched in tears), and how she taught me how to cook (exhibit number two: a little known Italian specialty that consists in getting out anything you might have in the fridge and pouring it over pasta, a tradition of Moving Day and Last-Day-Before-the-Holidays Day and Power-Outage Day), and how she taught me how to dress sexy (exhibit number three: a glimpse of sexy underwear).

Turned out I didn’t need to bother.

So, when something like this happens, first you write for support to someone who ignores you, but you’re not hurt because it is your fault for not having the right communication platform.

Then, you retrieve your old cell-phone, whose battery has the endurance of a cardiopathic mayfly, and use it to call a friend for advice, half in tears.

She did offer to let me crash on her couch and was very helpful, but was strangely positive that the world is NOT out to get me, and I should really start and read my mail. More to the point, I should start reading it NOW, get it out of whatever place I stuffed the post into, and look for evidence of what happened. Duh, how can I read with no light? How can I open my post knowing that there’s sure to be bad news?? How can I believe that the world is not out to get me with such compelling evidence in front of my very eyes??? Really, people have the most outlandish ideas.

Finally, you call the outage service, and have the electrical company guy tell you, without even asking if you have paid your bill, got warnings, if there’s light in the rest of the house, what you had for dinner, that he is going to give you the number of a private electrician. ??? His cousin? I patiently explained to him that I believed that his company had cut me off and I would have liked to know why, and he asked me what company, so I unveiled the name of his employer, and he told me that even if that was the case, it is very complicated to find out. I was all supportive and motivating and assured him that he was a very competent and intelligent young man, and that he could raise to the challenge, and how rewarding it was when he did manage to confirm that his company had cut me off! Well done, Cousin of Private Electrician! He couldn’t explain why they had come to this brilliant idea, but he did give me a number to call in the morning. I’m so proud of him. I am sure that in a few months if he works hard he will be able to find out not only who employs him, and the way to the canteen, but perhaps even how to turn on his computer.
Can’t say the same about myself, unfortunately – well, I know my employer as well as I know myself (the perks of being self-employed), I know my way to the kitchen, and I do know how to turn on my computer – but that’s not going to help me much, since I only have twenty minutes of battery left.But anyway this all happened yesterday and I hope it will be solved tomorrow.

So you know what, I will post this and then just sit in the dark. That’s what depressed people are supposed to do anyway, right?

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Yesterday was an eventful day, since I ran into the Blasted Thing. I was sitting with a common friend in a café, and unbeknownst to me the BT texted him and suggested meeting, and our friend simply replied, “Sure, join me”.
So there he was. The man who claimed to never have time for a coffee, caught rather red-handed. I hope he doesn’t think I have orchestrated it! In fact, I would NEVER have done that, since my friends had just greeted me with the words “You look terrible, I am going to buy you a coffee”, which isn’t exactly flattering, and  when I meet the Blasted Thing I want to look my best.
Anyway. There he was.

The conversation naturally turned to his amazing disappearing act. I was really, really, really, indescribably hurt by that.  I was nice, never reproachful, didn’t try anything untoward and all in all I think I managed not to embarrass myself too much in my dealings with him. So I couldn’t understand why he would so steadfastly block me out: I had done NOTHING that could justify it. Why, why, why???
Was it me? Or was it me? Or was it me?

So I gathered my nerve and asked him. I was ready for the worst. Alright, I wasn’t really ready, but I knew that was a possibility. That he would look me in my eyes… with those chocolate eyes… those beautiful kyrgyz eyes of his… ahem, sorry, I digress. Anyway, that he would look at me and say “Look, this isn’t working, and it is better FOR YOU (for me, for me, of course) if we don’t hear from each other again”. I steeled myself. I ironed myself. I even bronzed myself, and waited for the bomb to drop.

And the bomb dropped… and…. it didn’t go off!!

He had a PERFECTLY GOOD REASON why he couldn’t keep in touch. And it had nothing to do with me! Imagine my relief! I could have laughed with joy! So he couldn’t contact me  because…

I don’t have WhatsApp!!!

So that’s it. There we were all this time, silly old me expecting him to reply to my texts, or to my IMs on Skype, or to call me, or to Facebook me, or to e-mail me, or to ring at the door, or to ask our common friends about me… and he all the while frantically waiting for me to add him on What’s App.

It’s like when you are supposed to meet someone at a coffee place, and you get there early and take a table and go to the toilet, and right then your friend arrives, doesn’t see you and gets another table at the other end of the place, and you end up both sitting there without knowing that the other one is around the corner, and thinking that since your friend didn’t call to say that she is late that must mean that she is almost there, but then she doesn’t come, and she doesn’t call, and you wonder if YOU should call, and resolve instead to give her another five minutes… and then one of the two finally calls, and hears the phone of the other ringing, and it’s all laughs and merriment.

OK, so it’s all good now! I just need to get What’s App! But this got me thinking. How many people find themselves in need to come up at short notice with an excuse for not keeping in touch? You never know when something goes horribly wrong and you find yourself face to face with some nice person who has done nothing to you and in fact thinks highly of you and is ready to buy anything you say, so how do you handle such a thorny situation? It is better to be always prepared, so I thought I would compile a helpful list of things to say:

– I know, I have disappeared, and I am so truly, appallingly sorry, but…

… I didn’t pay my internet/my phone bill/my electrical bill and can’t use my appliances

… I did light a signal fire/tried to send smoke signals, but the firemen were there in no time and hosed it all out

…I saw this great recipe and baked all four and twenty of my homing pigeons in a pie. Would you like to have a taste?

…I did buy a whiskey bottle to send a message in it, but you know, first you need to empty it, and whiskey gets better with age, so it would have been a shame to empty it so soon. I was going to contact you in fifty years or so, cross my heart it’s true

…I wrote you a message, and tied it to a balloon, and up and up it went, and then down and down it went, and then it landed in the river, and the water carried it to the sea, and a turtle mistook it for a jellyfish and swallowed it, and the poor thing choked on it, and it was Master Oogway from Kung Fu Panda, and I felt so guilty that I haven’t been the same panda, I mean, man, ever since

…I took a vow of silence. But since it is unpractical in daily life, I am doing it symbolically, towards only one person as a representative of the whole of Mankind. And I chose this person to be you. You should be flattered, really.

…my hovercraft is full of eels

…tlhIngan Hol Dajatlh’a’?

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