BWAAH!
Ok…this has sucked. I had been ragingly angry, but I have calmed down a little.
But oh, I am not over it.
I have tried to pull away a little bit from letting this blog sink to becoming a ritual where I pull up Word and catalogue all the stupid, annoying, and hurtful things that occur. I really have. But I started off not having a good day, and…I have to vent. This is too much.
To try to make a long story short (and keep it abstract, so that I don’t become as angry again), I made a connection which, to the best of my knowledge and investigation, was an original one. I am not saying that it was the greatest idea of all time; I am not saying anything other than it was mine, it was… Reasonably good. Especially considering that I am completely freaking winging it here. I have no guidance. But I discussed that to death with El Octopus already. And something pathetic in me keeps me here, where I am. Something really stupid, and gullible, and sad, and if I could figure out what it was, I would cut it out with a penknife this second. There has to be something wrong with my mind. No one would put up with this. No one with resources, alternatives, original thought, a *mind*...
What is wrong with me?
I “grew distant” earlier this year. That is what I was told, at least. Well, no shit, I didn’t say; someone can only tolerate having everything stolen out from under them for so long before…before they just fucking snap. And stop wanting to show up, and stop talking, and…just stop. You’re not the same Ancodia, I was told. We sure do miss you. If you don’t want to be here anymore, that’s okay, but it will hurt us. And I did *not* want to be there. Did not want any more being put on a back burner, did not want…all of it. I had already made my Other Plans. But some political things, especially in a small environment, once you start them up, it is like touching a lit match to a stream of gasoline—wherever you had planned to run to be safe, you had better get there fast. And, for a lot of reasons, my defecting would have been that bad. Even though I was not being treated right in more ways than it is possible to enumerate in an obfuscatory way. Not just in not being led when I was supposed to be led, not just in abandonment when I needed support; there were other things, too. Things that I counted as absolute betrayal. Then, before I could run like hell, I distanced myself. That is just What One Does. It is not even something that is controllable…I don’t have empathy for a burning building when I run out of it; no one can and stay sane. It was only for a few weeks, but I was missed. And my wonderful ideas.
Why didn’t I hear that? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Like an absolute imbecile, I said that it was nothing; just the wind you heard. And I’m back. And we’re good. Nothing was wrong, because the discussion we would have to have otherwise would never happen. It would be insubordination, I wouldn’t be listened to, everything would be denied, and the two people who had direct witness to some of the things I am talking about had already left or were leaving. Plus, they were just as defective as everyone else, in a lot of ways. Ultimately I do not get along with the rest of my littermates, it seems. Perhaps it is me, after all. And I do not want to get into the kind of discussion-fight we would have to have. I just do not want to do it. It is too much work. For nothing.
So I participate, and when I participate, I give away parts of myself. Because I am a pile of thoughts and connections. When you get down to it, that is. There really isn’t anything else. And I am not going to run dry, I figured. Which I know that I will not. But that really is not the point. It goes into the list of Things That I Will Not Do. It is okay. Earlier this semester I read a quote whose spirit was this—that anyone can point the way and say “go”, but it takes a true teacher to take someone by the hand and say “come”. Something else to add to the list.
I am so god damned angry.
So I found something. In spite of my professed interests and inclinations, I am thrown over for others. I ignore that now. I go to discussions, I hand out ideas, hours and years of reading, which is something that is in short supply all around me, it seems. Fine. This, after all, is participating. And I go out of my way to attend something, force something into my schedule and wallet and repertoire whilst out of state because I am so wonderful at representing Our Common Interests, because I think on my feet, because of every piece of shit I get fed to convince me to do it. And then that gets given away because Someone Else is more interested. But not interested enough to travel, and to talk, and to present. Or capable enough. I let it go. It was not something I had done for myself, anyway. No big deal.
And I have no one to talk with, no one to work things out with, and no one to run anything past. But I find something. And in the spirit of staking out my claim, as everyone else has done with success, I brought it back in. To see what another human being thought about it. To, in some pathetic way, offer it up like a big fat dead mouse. Yours and mine, I offered. There’s enough to share between us. And then you and I will have Only Ours, like you and they have Only Yours, and you and the other have Only Yours, and… Right? Right. Of course. Only Ours.
How fucking stupid of me.
…
Ok; that is the Larger Picture of what has happened. I have whined about some of what has gone on during this, but I cannot do more, I don’t think.
Butsoanyway.
So I am in yet another meeting today. Nine-tenths of my life is devoted to meetings anymore, it seems. And I am trying to clarify with a Certain Fluffer what she is saying. Because she is not saying much. And not only am I not sure what she means, I do not believe that *she* knows what she means. I know what she *should* mean. She has jumped off one project onto another, in a move that makes no sense, and now she is trying to take on something that three of us talked about over the Summer, and turn it into something. Not that I ever signed over custody of my contribution, but…I am participating. So I let it go.
And then Sophie pipes up with It. *IT*. My idea. The Only Ours one. Only it wasn’t Only Mine And Sophie’s. She simply cannot stand to not be The Expert for a moment. And she just has to show Fluffer how bright she is. This is an ego so out of control that it cannot sit on something it has been told for more then a day or so, it would seem. And the relationship to where Fluffer was going is all but nonexistent.
wtf? Saith my Inner Monologue.
And not only does Sophie not remember a certain point of it, but Fluffer asks her to elaborate on something that is central to the main principle, and she can’t. But, she offers, there is an Example 1, and an Example 2, so all you would need to do is Example 3.
At this point, my Inner Monologue started sounding like the keynote speaker at a coprolalia convention. That was MY fucking connection! There is NO WAY IN HELL you came up with that!
And then, removing all possible doubt from my mind, Fluffer asks Sophie for an example of 1, which Sophie gives…poorly. Small wonder, ‘cos Example 1 is someone else’s…and it is sitting in my case, with a big red DRAFT in the top centre. I explained it out the other day, but I did not leave a copy. And, ironically, all Sophie has is an overview. What sounds to me like a second-hand rundown given by someone who has never seen it, because although I am stupid enough to share, I am not stupid enough to hand over anything of worth that can go on without me.
Then Fluff asks for Example 2. Example 2, I found only in the sense of a connection; it is contained within the central principle for anyone to observe, but it is important because it illustrates a modality that differs from Example 1 and Example 3. Sophie gives an example that is pulled from popular culture, and is not a clear and un-muddled example of the second modality. She is really only re-explaining the principle (poorly) as if Fluffer had not understood. Fluff, not one to take being lectured at mildly, pretends that this has answered her question. Fluffer would rather die than let anyone think she doesn’t understand something.
Ok, fine, Fluffer says, but what are you saying is Example 3, then? And I cannot help it; I have to turn to look at Sophie. And even though inside I feel like I am shaking and about to start raging, I know that there is no expression on my face at all. I have been told that too many times. I want to hear this. And I want to hear this NOW.
I want to hear this because my Example 3 I have told no one. That was my hash; I relayed it in only abstract terms, and assured my TPTB that I had an example in mind. And unless you live in my mind, know what I know, and think the way that I think, there is no crystal clear Example 3 to be had.
Or, if there is, I am exceedingly eager to hear it. It is probably a good one, one that I am not knowledgeable enough to originate. I can admit when I am wrong. Perhaps Sophie really is all that, and has been hiding it this entire time.
Well, Sophie explains, there is not an easy example that is already done. You would have to make it up from scratch…but it can be done. It just stands to reason that it can be done, since it can be done with Examples 1 and 2.
Do tell.
All right, Fluffer says, cutting Sophie off and putting on her Litterbox face, I don’t see the point. So let us say that you do all that; what is the point?
Yeah; I would really like to hear that, too. Because the point is that there is a common thread, or the possibility of one, between…
And here I really would like to spill it. Honest to god. But I can’t. And it is not to be sadistic; this has taken me a long time. But I think I have a braid. And I found the keystone, or *a* keystone, or at least something that needs to be ruled out as the keystone. And if I had control over who would do what with it, I would. But I can’t. So it is Things. I say that it can be argued that apparently dissimilar things tie together. Trust me that they do. Or at least trust me that a rational person could be misled into thinking that they might, and needs to waste her time exploring it so that no one else wastes *their* time doing it. I am ok with falling on the spear, if that is how it ends up, though I don’t believe that it will. I could drop hints, and actually that would be marvellous fun, to see if anyone else could figure it out (not in the sense of challenging another’s intellect, because if you have read me this far, you are clearly doing fine there, but in the sense of a scavenger hunt of sorts. I actually wish I could go on it again myself; the chase was probably most of the thrill, and all that is left is the cleaning up). And, of course, to make sure that I am not self-deluded (seeing as how I obviously cannot discuss this freely with anyone who might be involved because they are a bunch of backstabbing assholes), I am going to solicit opinions. And I am going to need some help. I just can’t print it out right here, right now. I am sorry. Please forgive me. Please. If you have never had someone beg—truly implore—your forgiveness, you are getting it now.
Sophie rolled her eyes. The point, she explained, is that you can prove Examples 1, 2, and 3. And then use them. Trying her best to be dismissive of Fluffer (geared to really piss Fluffer off, because, oblivious to all else, this was Sophie’s goal), Sophie then turned to me—ME—and said, “Ancodia, *you* try to explain it to her!”
So at least now I know.
Some part of me that must enjoy picking at scabs wants to know how this was given to Sophie. I think it is kind of like wanting to know what position your husband used to nail his secretary, or something. Not that you are ever coming back…you just want to know every last gruesome detail, down to what perfume the little whore was wearing, and where she put her hands. It is sickness, really, and I am trying to not give in to it and ask. And it is eating me alive. Sophie was given everything I gave (which wasn’t the whole picture, just a clear explanation of My New Toy); I assume the missing and misunderstood parts are due to Sophie’s lack of recall and allergy to thought and reading. I could go on about this part all night. Was it in your office? The café downstairs? Or did you invite her home to hand it over? What did she do? What then? And after that? Did the bitch have her hair up, or down? Hmm? TELL ME!!!
ARRRGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!
I am thisclose to like, screaming, hitting, or self-mutilation.
Well, I *feel* like I am. Anger has to go *somewhere*, damn it. I am fine. I am not going to mutilate anyone. Well, not myself, at least. :-) And there is not a smiley that adequately conveys what I mean right now, so you will have to infer.
Infer flames. Flames…on the side of my face…heaving, breathless, heaving breaths.
So what do I do now? Well, I am not over being angry. I am going to be angry for a little bit longer. That is What I Am Going To Do #1. WIAGTD #2 is a little more difficult, because I would be foolish to think that I am the only person on earth who could come up with this. That would be just plain delusional. The purpose in mentioning this to TPTB was to carve my initials into it. For my next Magnificent Octopus. I am thinking right now that I have no alternative but to dump the entire Thing on someone else’s TPTB. The whole kit and caboodle, to document that it was me what doed it. So that Evil Things may not be done in secret.
And I think I know who. I just have to (1) find a way to direct the conversation towards it, and (2) hope that I don’t get screwed; hope that maybe, if this isn’t my chance to run to the two men sitting in the airport bar screaming that I want to remain in France (as it were), then at least I can bring someone else in to maintain a semblance of non-Ancodia-screwing sanity. I will have a chance to do that in approximately one week. I hope it will keep until then, ‘cos I have no way to speed that up.
Oh…and I am going to ask Meg what she thinks that I should do. Not that I expect her to have an answer. She thinks I should have run months ago.
And I might key a car or two.
Well, maybe.
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