I sit here and the computer keeps talking to me, in yellow
messages popping up, that I just click to ignore Mostly they are polite asking
if I want to review my privacy settings, but generally the impression is that
they are invasive. I am the only one who has access to my computer, and also
the only one interested in what I am writing. Why there should be a security
issue is beyond me, this worry worries me and makes me think that there is something I should know or should find out about, but my motivation is low.
Now today is a problem. I feel a tidal force raging around
me, pulling me under, as previously hidden causes ripple nearby. Even in the
shallows the waves can destroy equilibrium and destroy. Maybe this is the inevitable
outcome of a risk-adverse lifestyle: have I become frail because I avoid
challenges? Every now and again I have felt my protective habits to be a restrictive
prison, narrowing my choices and limiting my life. Weighing up my options –
assessing risk versus reward – I inevitably remain behind my sheltering ignorance,
being pummelled by the tides outside from those who live larger lives.
‘Do you know about living within a budget?’
Her anger, hot and liquid, rolled out in sprayed spit when
she said budget. Although this was not a rhetorical question, I wasn’t going to
‘Don’t you shrug and turn away,’ she continued. ‘This is
‘Just moderate your tone. I’m not going to argue with you.
This isn’t your problem. I need to do this.’
‘What?’ she asked. ‘Should I just take a chill pill when you
blow all that money?’
‘This isn’t about us. If you keep going, it’s going to end
in tears and they won’t be mine.’
Yesterday I was in all kinds of hurt, the kind of pain that
feels like the universe is playing in a different register and I am out of
synch, knocked and tipped out of alignment. Even writing caused pain; with each
keystroke I felt my nails hit the keys and trigger my nerves to react, as
though overnight my nails had all grown longer. My thinking was clunky and
forced, but translating thought into typed words, caused anguish. Life was out
of focus, the thread of my narrative no longer engaging with the passage of
time, and emotions overwhelmed me.