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An update on me
Nov. 3rd, 2007 05:36 pmOk, the disease? It is conquered. Well, in retreat. I have my nasty nasty nasty pills. I have this truly VILE honey and lemon mixture. And I can eat again. All is nearly good. The only thing I CAN'T shake is the tiredness and the worst part of that is it refuses to be pushed. I do too much or get too cold or work too hard and *SMACK* I'm laid up exhausted, coughing etc as bad as the wretched ailment was when it was in full swing
I'm so TIRED of it. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of not being able to do ANYTHING. I'm tired of being useless at work. I'm tired of having no energy, I'm tired of every damn simple task being a monumental effort, I'm tired of Beloved having to do everything, I'm tired of putting my life on hold and building up so much on my to do list and I'm tired of freaking WHINING and being pathetic.
I don't do the pathetic thing. Oh, I do the "poor little me, so small and lost and helpless, do what I want and give me lots of sympathy" pathetic thing (it NEVER works *pouts*) but I'm not inclined towards being pathetic. If fix things, I cope, I make it right. I'm the one who keeps his head in a crisis, who puts things into perspective, who rolls with the punches, gets up and gets going again. I'm capable. It's one of the major labels of my life (and is both a good and a bad thing). Sparky, the capable one. The one who can handle it. The one who can help. I don't like this role reversal, not at all.
And now my little brother (the 6' 4" one, yes, the universe has its ironies) has set fire to his house (AGAIN, we need to note here). Or at least the electrics have. While I understand the damage isn't horrendous (largely smoke) and they were renevating the house anyway (so now the insurance company gets to pay for it! Silver lining how we love thee) it has made the house uninhabitable and created a lot of work. My brother is NOT the capable one. My brother is the curl-up-in-the-corner-whimpering one. He's the scream-for-help-at-the-slightest-problem one. He's the ignore-it-and-it'll-go-away one. And it galls because I'm the capable one, which means I should BE there sorting it out and plugging the gaps and doing paperwork and speaking to all the serious people and calming down padre (who has done what he ALWAYS does and had a full blown panic attack, running round in circles yelling "fire fire fire fire fire fire" days after the event) and stopping madre CLEANING everything.
Ok, this is turning into one long whine and irritating me further. At least I am eating again and there is vast amounts of really nice food to be had and bonfire night's acoming which means wonderful snacky food and burned baked potatoes filled with yummy stuff *loves*
I'm going to write today, the muses have woken up and given me wonderful mental pictures of Camaalis castle. And Darren's rooms. Damn, I want to live there. And there's a huuuuge woman with a bright smile, massive rolling laugh and big, gentle hands who seems to run the Camaalis kitchens, she's over 200 years old and has not a drop of magical talent in her but the Camaalis couldn't face the idea of losing her; she plays mother hen to the clan making sure that the great and powerful wizards look after themselves (aided and abetted by her extended family since she's had many children). She has a beautiful, soft highlands accent and bustles everywhere followed by an entourage carrying tea trays and fresh laundry as she forces mighty Camaalis to eat, ro change their clothes, or put down the wand and get to bed right now young master, or ye'll be fit for nothing on the morrow! I like her :). And there's a dragonman lurking in the background somewhere. And some kind of lawyer in a quasi-future setting that may or may not have vampires *is confused* definitely past time I wrote.
I'm so TIRED of it. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of not being able to do ANYTHING. I'm tired of being useless at work. I'm tired of having no energy, I'm tired of every damn simple task being a monumental effort, I'm tired of Beloved having to do everything, I'm tired of putting my life on hold and building up so much on my to do list and I'm tired of freaking WHINING and being pathetic.
I don't do the pathetic thing. Oh, I do the "poor little me, so small and lost and helpless, do what I want and give me lots of sympathy" pathetic thing (it NEVER works *pouts*) but I'm not inclined towards being pathetic. If fix things, I cope, I make it right. I'm the one who keeps his head in a crisis, who puts things into perspective, who rolls with the punches, gets up and gets going again. I'm capable. It's one of the major labels of my life (and is both a good and a bad thing). Sparky, the capable one. The one who can handle it. The one who can help. I don't like this role reversal, not at all.
And now my little brother (the 6' 4" one, yes, the universe has its ironies) has set fire to his house (AGAIN, we need to note here). Or at least the electrics have. While I understand the damage isn't horrendous (largely smoke) and they were renevating the house anyway (so now the insurance company gets to pay for it! Silver lining how we love thee) it has made the house uninhabitable and created a lot of work. My brother is NOT the capable one. My brother is the curl-up-in-the-corner-whimpering one. He's the scream-for-help-at-the-slightest-problem one. He's the ignore-it-and-it'll-go-away one. And it galls because I'm the capable one, which means I should BE there sorting it out and plugging the gaps and doing paperwork and speaking to all the serious people and calming down padre (who has done what he ALWAYS does and had a full blown panic attack, running round in circles yelling "fire fire fire fire fire fire" days after the event) and stopping madre CLEANING everything.
Ok, this is turning into one long whine and irritating me further. At least I am eating again and there is vast amounts of really nice food to be had and bonfire night's acoming which means wonderful snacky food and burned baked potatoes filled with yummy stuff *loves*
I'm going to write today, the muses have woken up and given me wonderful mental pictures of Camaalis castle. And Darren's rooms. Damn, I want to live there. And there's a huuuuge woman with a bright smile, massive rolling laugh and big, gentle hands who seems to run the Camaalis kitchens, she's over 200 years old and has not a drop of magical talent in her but the Camaalis couldn't face the idea of losing her; she plays mother hen to the clan making sure that the great and powerful wizards look after themselves (aided and abetted by her extended family since she's had many children). She has a beautiful, soft highlands accent and bustles everywhere followed by an entourage carrying tea trays and fresh laundry as she forces mighty Camaalis to eat, ro change their clothes, or put down the wand and get to bed right now young master, or ye'll be fit for nothing on the morrow! I like her :). And there's a dragonman lurking in the background somewhere. And some kind of lawyer in a quasi-future setting that may or may not have vampires *is confused* definitely past time I wrote.