Today I have a bit of a mush head. Anyone who has experienced it will know what I mean. Things are a little fogged and it is not as easy to think straight as I would like. Feels like I need a good cold breeze to blow through and disperse the cobwebs. Gah!
Today sees me attempt to get my mush head around an end of funding report for the allotment project (see plot blog for details). As you can tell, I am not procrastinating AT ALL! 😉 I’ll be honest, I am beginning to feel a bit worn down by the attitude of some people at the plot. There is nothing major, just the constant drip of minor criticism. I know that things are not up to the standards of some people, but I do the best I can with what I have. Please pray that I will stay gracious and civil when the next person tells me I am doing it wrong…and the one after that! Cheers.
My sister was in hospital recently with complications re: her diabetes. Poor soul went to Egypt for a holiday (something she has been looking forward to for a while), but injured her foot and did not feel it. It then became infected and she spent most of her time practically immobile and being tended to by the site doctor. When she came back, our local GP put her on strong antibiotics that made her sick – resulting in a hospital admission. Not good. Thankfully she is out of hospital now, and back home.
Work has been messy too recently. One of my close colleagues has been off with stress and we are understaffed at the best of times. Add to that the nature of the problems people bring us and the sheer volume of them, it is no surprise I have a mush head. In fact, I am on leave for the next couple of weeks. I booked this really quickly and thankfully the boss could see I needed it. I feel like a bit of a cow, though, because I have not told my parents or sister that I am not working. I know that they would wonder why I am not using at least some of the time to visit them in Dorset, especially as they are all going through the mill at the moment. I’ll be perfectly honest, though, I just need time for myself and not to have to carry other people for a while. I know that sounds selfish and I feel guilty for saying it, but that is how it is.
Thankfully, I will be meeting with friends in Cardiff tomorrow. They are two lovely pals from my Swansea days, who are also now exiles from that part of South Wales. We plan to get together just before lunch and spend some quality friend time together. There is nothing quite like meeting with people you have known for years and with whom you just don’t have to try too hard! Jeff and I are also going to be able to spend some time together over the Bank Holiday and he has managed to swing a few days off during the next two weeks, so that should be fun too. Its not all doom and gloom, but sometimes a little like wading through the mire. Just need some help to keep my head up and my eyes on Jesus at times. Thanks for reading, guys. 🙂
The title of this post is a question I have been prompted to ask as a result of the discussion at creative writing group today.
The tutor mentioned that she identifies with characters in the books she reads and, talking with a fellow student afterwards, it appears that this is something she also seeks from her reading material. I have had conversations with other friends who also speak of getting inside the skin of a character and really seeing and feeling things along with them. This is not true of me.
I read, primarily, to be entertained and perhaps also to learn. I need characters to be plausible and interesting, with at least some of them being likeable. I could not read about people if I was not drawn in to care about them unless the plot itself was very challenging. I am always aware, though, that fictional people are creations – they are not real and I couldn’t, for that reason, identify with them. If they experience stuff that is, in and of itself, touching and emotional then I will feel sympathy and wan’t the best outcome for them. I could not, however, empathise with a product of someone’s imagination.
The only time I will be drawn to stuff on a personal level is when it is autobiograpical or biograpical. It is then about a real person, and therefore may have resonance for me. Having said that, I will be more interested in biographical work featuring people and situations about which I would have no experience or knowledge than fiction about someone very like me feeling things like I do (if any such person exists!!!)
I guess, on the whole, I read to see things differently. Is this true of any of you, or is this desire to find the familiar and comforting in stories (and perhaps other forms of entertainment too) the more usual motivation? Enquiring minds would like to know…
“This is a system generated email so please do not reply to this email as it will not be read by a human.”
Perhaps they have finally trained monkeys to operate e-mail accounts (as a break from typing Shakespeare)…
…or, more sinister still, alien life forms could be reading my replies.
Who can tell? Who can possibly tell?
I am due to meet with a ‘professional’ on Monday 16th May (Monday week – help!) with a view to being given a label. I have been thinking for a while that this label would explain many things, now there is a chance that this will be recognised officially. I want this, cos it would make it easier to explain to other people why I function so differently! Whether or not I get the label I desire, I will still know in myself that this is why I am the way I am. However, I just think that being diagnosed may smooth the way in some situations.
The trouble is, I fear that the answers I give won’t fit the tick list that the medic will doubtless have. In some ways, being told that I am officially not that which I think myself to be would be worse.
Just had to get that out there. If any of you are the type that pray – please say one for me!