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Moody
I'm feeling oddly out of sorts. Some of that is lack of exercise--this is why I'm going to the gym after work on my birthday, rather than out to dinner with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cattitude. Some of it is things on my mind, conversations I'm in the middle of and probably should have had sooner.
I have a vague feeling that, well, "the time is out of joint" is too strong, but it points in the right direction. It's being a weird autumn, definitely. We saw a tulip tree in full golden autumn glory this morning; in a usual year it would be bare, or almost, by now, not blazing out with plenty of other color, some green, around it. This is not a complaint: I'd far rather be looking at golden glory than bare branches; the cardinals can sing from amid the leaves, and I'll look at them later.
I'm used to moving slowly in relationships. I know how to do that. And apparently my assumptions connected to it are strong enough that I keep using them even when, rarely, I'm not moving slowly. I need to remember that, important asadrian_turtle and I have become to each other, we haven't known each other very long, and I haven't had a chance to introduce her to most of my friends. I spent my adolescence and young adulthood in contexts where it was a given that most of my friends knew each other, or were connected via enough threads that they would, or at least knew of each other. I'm not in that sort of social context these days: my friends still introduce me to other people, and I them, but it's different. Not worse, but different.
Nothing is broken, but some things feel more fragile than I'd like. I do try to take care of, and with, the people I love--but I don't like this feeling that it would be too easy to drop them, or that I'm not holding them with the care they deserve. No, that's not it--I'm holding them gently, and then walking too close to doorways and bruising myself, or them. (Yes, I stepped on Julian again last night.)
cattitude. Some of it is things on my mind, conversations I'm in the middle of and probably should have had sooner.I have a vague feeling that, well, "the time is out of joint" is too strong, but it points in the right direction. It's being a weird autumn, definitely. We saw a tulip tree in full golden autumn glory this morning; in a usual year it would be bare, or almost, by now, not blazing out with plenty of other color, some green, around it. This is not a complaint: I'd far rather be looking at golden glory than bare branches; the cardinals can sing from amid the leaves, and I'll look at them later.
I'm used to moving slowly in relationships. I know how to do that. And apparently my assumptions connected to it are strong enough that I keep using them even when, rarely, I'm not moving slowly. I need to remember that, important as
adrian_turtle and I have become to each other, we haven't known each other very long, and I haven't had a chance to introduce her to most of my friends. I spent my adolescence and young adulthood in contexts where it was a given that most of my friends knew each other, or were connected via enough threads that they would, or at least knew of each other. I'm not in that sort of social context these days: my friends still introduce me to other people, and I them, but it's different. Not worse, but different.Nothing is broken, but some things feel more fragile than I'd like. I do try to take care of, and with, the people I love--but I don't like this feeling that it would be too easy to drop them, or that I'm not holding them with the care they deserve. No, that's not it--I'm holding them gently, and then walking too close to doorways and bruising myself, or them. (Yes, I stepped on Julian again last night.)
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