(no subject)

Unsurprisingly, I'm having a bit of trouble focussing this morning. Funerals are seldom happy.* Andrea did her best to make sure that her funeral won't be too hard, but it still is. It still will be. Even for me, who was a friend but not an intimate friend.

Suicide reminds us that we're different, I think, that some people make choices other people can't ever understand. When a friend commits suicide, I am reminded of this and that one of the things that makes life tolerable for most of us is finding similarities. Our acculturation and aptitude pushes us towards people like us. We're not trained to be good at celebrating difference - in fact, a lot of the time we're trained to distrust difference and to hate people who are not like us. A choice like this says outright "I am different." in a way that's impossible to argue.

This is what makes today so tough. This and several unfinished conversations and her recipe for beans and the tour of Jimmy's books she was going to give. I didn't follow up quickly on these things because this year has been a bit challenging. Now I never can.

That's the third problem with today. Unfinished business that cannot ever be done. This is not a novel. For some things, there is no completion. There is only farewell.






* I won't say 'never' because I've been to one that was joyous, because the person who died made it so and we were all trying very hard - I would like mine to be celebrational, please, and maybe a little funny. I want stories and I want my friends to make friends with each other and go out for drinks together afterwards.

(no subject)

I did the sensible thing tonight. I do so hate being sensible.

Elizabeth drove me home from the funeral and I fed her tea and cake. Then I made myself dinner in between phonecalls. It was a drawn-out dinner, but worth it - those phone calls were excellent and cheering. While cooking, I sorted out what to do with recipes that call for bacon or pancetta. I have no idea if my substitute tastes anything the same as bacon or pancetta but it totally made this one recipe rock, and so it does the job. For my next trick, I shall work out a substitute for chicken in this one dish, for that would give me yet another vegetarian dairy-free gluten-free meal I can serve discerning friends. I might have to wait until after Conflux for this next experiment, though. All this got me past the absolute fatigue.

So I thought, "I should work."

Then I thought, "I am an idiot."

I played computer games for a bit and after that I finished "I Shall Wear Midnight."

I'm taking tomorrow morning off, and spending it with Rachel and Mia and friends.

Then it's back to normal until Kol Nidre. I feel much more pragmatic about 'normal' than I did nine hours ago. I may have to get mountains of work done by Kol Nidre, but it all looks within the realms of possibility at this moment. (Although in a very Gillianish way, I will do a half hour now, because I forgot to take my medicine earlier and it's better not just before bed. And I want to do some work now - it's a happiness thing, like finding substitutes for forbidden ingredients.)