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I'm brooding, lately. I think there's some fundamental restlessness or dissatisfaction somewhere deep in my psyche that's trying really hard to manifest, and can't figure out what shape it is. It's worrying me some; I don't know whether it will decide that the bathtub really needs cleaning or that I need to move to Topeka to sell candlesticks. Or something.
It doesn't help that I'm feeling utterly unrooted. My sense of connection to my family is iffy; I'm even having trouble making meaningful contact with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
teinedreugan. And I'm writing this down here because I know he'll read it and maybe that'll make a difference that I can't manage to express face-to-face, because I get to the place where I'm trying to express something and it just comes out I miss you in my head, and . . . that . . . it's wrong. It's the wrong sentiment, for all it's the closest I can get in English.
And I can't even approach how I'm feeling withbrooksmoses at all. It's got some of that in it, and other stuff. . . and . . . . Bleah. There goes the ability to say any damn thing at all. It comes out I miss you and that's wrong, not because it's not true, but because it's not enough.
If this broodiness actually inspired me in the direction of something meaningful, that'd be one thing. Though today I had that conversation withoneironaut about linguistics, and I think I've more or less figured out what Dawn gets in her attempt at translation, so I can maybe write that next bit. This will still be a short chapter, I think. So that was something that I needed to brood over that got done.
Just . . . detached. Not even a self-protective detached, which I would at least know how to deal with.
It doesn't help that I'm feeling utterly unrooted. My sense of connection to my family is iffy; I'm even having trouble making meaningful contact with
teinedreugan. And I'm writing this down here because I know he'll read it and maybe that'll make a difference that I can't manage to express face-to-face, because I get to the place where I'm trying to express something and it just comes out I miss you in my head, and . . . that . . . it's wrong. It's the wrong sentiment, for all it's the closest I can get in English.And I can't even approach how I'm feeling with
brooksmoses at all. It's got some of that in it, and other stuff. . . and . . . . Bleah. There goes the ability to say any damn thing at all. It comes out I miss you and that's wrong, not because it's not true, but because it's not enough.If this broodiness actually inspired me in the direction of something meaningful, that'd be one thing. Though today I had that conversation with
oneironaut about linguistics, and I think I've more or less figured out what Dawn gets in her attempt at translation, so I can maybe write that next bit. This will still be a short chapter, I think. So that was something that I needed to brood over that got done.Just . . . detached. Not even a self-protective detached, which I would at least know how to deal with.
