Beside myself

Or, I should be beside myself, that is, outside of myself, that is, separating myself from my emotional reaction. What choo' talkin' 'bout, Liz?

The biggest disagreement my Zen-Like Friend and I have about Zen-like things is my determined position that to be detached from our emotions isn't honest, that we're shortchanging ourselves from the human experience when we say we want to be outside of our feelings.

But I'm starting to wonder if there isn't more of a place for that, and I'm thinking particularly in work situations. I mean, I'm not saying that I'm going around at the moment inflicting my emotions on everyone. But earlier this week someone sent me an email that I thought was unfair. I told my boss what I thought, she agreed, and then I made a further comment, which she said was me being sensitive.

Which is fair comment from her. I am over sensitive. I'm hypercritical of myself, so external criticism, no matter how oblique, is hard for me to take. I do try not to let it take over my brain.

What she means by sensitive is emotional - I react to work situations in an emotional way, which is not appropriate. I'm not crying or snapping or anything. But I'm coming to realise that when you allow an emotional reaction to take over from a logical reaction, you're also opening the door to a situation where you could start ascribing unfair motives to people's actions, or feeling resentful about a meeting, or, or, or. Whether you like it or not, emotional responses are messy. And no, you're not necessarily going to inflict your emotions on people, but allowing the reaction means that you're making it easier for that to happen.

There has to be a middle ground. I have to be able to be honest with myself, and experience my emotions, without it affecting my work. I should be professional, and professionalism is detached. There is only the work, and getting that work done to the absolute best of my ability, to a high standard, on time, to deadline. That's what matters. Not the fact that one of my co-workers drives me batty at every opportunity. Her I can experience emotionally when I get home.

Midweek sushi adventures

Yesterday I randomly decided at about 5:30pm to blow off any ideas I had about working late (regretting that now) and going for sushi in London. I called H and A to find out if I could lure them into joining me and all credit to them, they did. Spontaneous friends make me happy. Such a great evening.

Twitchy

Right eye keeps jumping. Fringe keeps getting caught in hinges of my glasses. Spot on jawline keeps itching.

If I were a cartoon character, there'd be a close up of my red-rimmed, vein popping eyes right about here.

Sleep cycles from hell

I was thinking about this the other day, and I remember walking home from high school and swearing to myself that I would improve my sleeping habits. I'm still swearing.

A fit of organisation

I decided tonight to rearrange my bookshelves. Yes, it's 10pm, so what? It's not like I have a full day planned for tomorrow or anything. It's not like I need to stand in an atrium trying to talk academics into accepting e-books as the next wave of educational development, having arguments with the Anti-Apple Contingent over whether we should have gone for the Android platform, the one that hasn't actually been released yet.

Seriously brain, I don't think I needed to rearrange my bookshelves tonight. Especially since I'm caught in the classic dilemma of whether I should go for alphabetical stacking, genre-based stacking, or Nick Hornby stacking - autobiographically.

Decisions, decisions. Might have a cuppa while I consider my options.

Modern science se gat

One of my medications leaves me bruised and bleeding. The other has a local anaesthetic that makes my tongue and throat numb. So I can never sunbathe again, and I can't taste anything after 10pm.

There must be more to life than this.

A dialogue, of sorts

After buying two £1 scratchcards with a £5 note I found randomly on the ground in Tesco and purloined with a feeling of guilt and trepidation.

Me: I always find it quite decadent to scratch a scratchcard with a £2 coin.

Her: Or even a £1 coin.

Me: But then I worry that I'm tempting fate.

Her: The universe won't let you win because you're scratching with a £2 coin.

Me: No! You do not deserve a million! You have money!

Her: So really you should scratch with a penny.

Me: Or a button.

Her: Or just use a fingernail.

For the record,  I scratched with a £2 coin and won nothing. She scratched with a £1 coin and won...£1. There's a lesson in there somewhere.