Ten: In those dreams

As usual I write this from the darkness of the bedroom. Mel drifts off to sleep and I still have some wakeness in me. Sometimes I use this energy to write X-Cerpts but they're not as productive as I might like. My brain is powering down for the night, not my wittiest or most observant hour. My best writing times lately are mid-afternoon weekend jaunts. Before turning out the lights Mel mentioned one more thing to stress about not taking care of, namely getting the comforter washed.

I felt bad at work today. It wasn't the worst day just not a very good one and I felt bad during it. Something put me in a sour mood. I was already running late because I slept through my alarm. The Raptors won thr NBA Championship the night before and, living where I do, there was considerable commotion that did keep me up, although not as late as I thought and the reaction was harmlessly celebretory as far as I can tell.

About the Raptors' success I have a weord ambivalence that I've thought of putting into words in the BLTN blog. I didn't bandwagon or do much to mark the occasion, only putting footage of Jurrasic Park on Insta as a way of takig advantage of my location, as well as a way of feeling like part of it, and let's face it something of a humblebrag.

I felt crummy at work because of some news that was not what I wanted to hear. It made me feel sulky and self-pitying, which was a shame as today was to be Chelsey's baby shower and I wanted to be in good spirits for that. I think I did fine. Then the rest of the day was not highly motivated - it's Friday, it's beautiful out, the Raps won, there's been mimosas. I actually had a shitload of work to do and only managed to get anything meaningful done between 3 and 5:30 (which meant staying late on a dang Friday in June.)

Anyway. I just haven't felt effective in a few weeks. Not bad days, not days when I go home thinking "I should be better" but days when I think the situation should be better.

Along the way, there were interactions that left me feeling bad later. To back this up, I've been feeling weird about the Fiction team, lately. They sit behind me and are always very chummy with each other, thick as thieves, and I feel very much like my high school self - adjacent to it all but not part of it. I know these people, I'm on good terms with these people, but conversations never seem to happen naturally. So when they do, and I later reflect and think, "Wow, I was not smooth," or whatever, it stings, because I'm getting the probably-not-realistic feeling like they don't actually like me over there. I feel like they do - I went with Pom and Victoria to pick up their lunches today and we had pleasant chats - but I fear that they don't, if that makes sense.

Man. Am I still 17 or what? I am exactly the person who started this blog 100,000,000 years ago.

It was a good night at home. We bought exactly the right amount of sushi. We watched Isn't It Romantic (a very enjoyable movie). I made Mel laugh with my rendition of the "D'yer mak'er?" joke, slash my remixing of it on Twitter. I should feel good but the pervasive glumness has got me.

It's Father's Day. I didn't even tell dad yet that I'm not going to be in Oakville this weekend, but we haven't discussed things. We've been trying to work out this Engagement Party Thing and it's stressing me out - everything stresses me out.

Once I write this, what seems like a crummy day - or a day where I felt crummy - will just be one random day I happened to write in this thing, which I like. I'll be going through the archives some boring time down the road and think, "Ah, huh, it all worked out, I sure was worked up."

P E R S P E C T I V E

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto