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dot_fennelSo, obviously sometimes there's a blurry line between thinking about your problems productively and dwelling on them painfully. It hadn't really occurred to me that there was overlap before. But that's how it goes these days; generally I reach some insight shortly after thinking "I'm just making myself sadder by thinking about this; if I had anything else to think about I would."
I've been staying late at work. Can't tell if it's for a good reason or not; I've been busier than usual during the day, and so the stupid little things that I don't get around to without substantial sitting-around time... yeah, I have to stick around until 7 to do those. Some of them. Some of them don't happen anyway.
Not really so productive. I made myself another sandwich last night. Oddly, while eating a very simple sandwich of my own making I find myself thinking about other foods that wouldn't be too hard -- I'd expect to relax into a well-fed state and stop worrying about cooking entirely, but no. I take this as a good sign, that my cheese-tomato-condiment sandwiches, however puny, are putting me in touch with the cooking dimension that I've avoided all my life.
(Disclosure: there's actually one real dish I know how to cook. But it's weird; I never abstracted any knowledge from that. It might as well be grilled cheese, which, okay, I can also make, instead of a pretty good spicy peanut paste sauce.)
Few enough things bring me real joy that it's amazing I don't watch television anymore.
Hm. That period from 5-7 is sort of productive whether I spend it at home or at work. So I guess there's no structural benefit from staying here, and I should only do it when I need to because I'd really rather be at home.
Hey, great!
I've been staying late at work. Can't tell if it's for a good reason or not; I've been busier than usual during the day, and so the stupid little things that I don't get around to without substantial sitting-around time... yeah, I have to stick around until 7 to do those. Some of them. Some of them don't happen anyway.
Not really so productive. I made myself another sandwich last night. Oddly, while eating a very simple sandwich of my own making I find myself thinking about other foods that wouldn't be too hard -- I'd expect to relax into a well-fed state and stop worrying about cooking entirely, but no. I take this as a good sign, that my cheese-tomato-condiment sandwiches, however puny, are putting me in touch with the cooking dimension that I've avoided all my life.
(Disclosure: there's actually one real dish I know how to cook. But it's weird; I never abstracted any knowledge from that. It might as well be grilled cheese, which, okay, I can also make, instead of a pretty good spicy peanut paste sauce.)
Few enough things bring me real joy that it's amazing I don't watch television anymore.
Hm. That period from 5-7 is sort of productive whether I spend it at home or at work. So I guess there's no structural benefit from staying here, and I should only do it when I need to because I'd really rather be at home.
Hey, great!
