Lesson of the week is, surprisingly enough, is to "fucking get over it". There is a back story to it, of course there is, but I don't intend to tackle this stuff tonight. Instead I'm just surprised that the person who told me to fucking get over it actually remembered it - which is both somehow (kinda almost perversely) calming and really scary.
I also need to fucking get over a whole list of stuff - beginning with my obvious hate of Camera, an Editors' song that I used to not mind at all, and Russell T. Davies' A Writer's Tale - a book that has been on my shelf for years and has quietly been calling me. I really need to fucking get over the fact that my work schedule is defying any logic and I can't do anything about it.
The other things I need to fucking get over are waiting patiently. Every now and then people around me give more and more suggestions and that makes me more anxious than before because apparently I never realised how anxious over things I am. Also, god dammit, my fucking memory. All I want for this Christmas is enough wine to last for several days and not make me think about things that were or have not been.
On all other fronts is quiet. All calm and on its place, and I am content. I spent the better part of this week looking at guides to Stockholm, all of them weird and wonderful. I went to an exhibition opening and revealed my TARDIS project. I packed gifts and signed cards, or just signed my name under blocks of text. I don't love anyone, not even Christmas, and that is ok, as long as I don't have to pretend that I care about you lot.
I'm joking. You are all great and DFTBA, or whatever John Green likes to say.
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