The book is not going well; I'm feeling under the gun and inadequate; I have tensions and angers; I'm stressed about deadlines, about time, about arrangements for going back and then coming back. This is one of those times when I suddenly have many, many stressors.
I know all of this will pass, but this is undoubtedly one of those life moments when I could use a Fantasy Dad. Or, really, a partner. No dad or friend, however fantastical, could produce the feeling provided by the knowledge that someone has chosen to support you: that someone is absolutely on your side, is just for you, and has voluntarily elected to be in that position. And I could use such support right now.
Failing that, I would take a long hug or a little hand-holding from someone who values me. Preferably male, but I'm not picky.
In other musings, talking to someone at tango last night I remarked on the strangeness of the milonga set-up, something I've been struck by before. Although there are people chatting on the side, the dance floor itself is filled with couples dancing with great intensity in what appears to be total silence. The only sound you hear besides the music, if you listen toward the dance floor, is the shuffle of shoe bottoms. I said to the person, "If you just happened upon it, you would think that it was a bunch of people all of whom knew each other very well, who had gathered to rehearse with great intensity for some important performance later on. Whereas what it really is, is a bunch of people who don't necessarily know each other at all performing a leisure activity in and for the present moment."
And I think for once I got it exactly right.
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1 comment:
That's just weird. I bet Monty Python would have done a sketch about it if they'd thought of the idea.
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