More guilt

I hate guilt, but I can't help it. It eats me up from inside and my stomach becomes all acid and sour. Make that mentally too. It's definitely a cascade effect - this whole guilt thing - it starts with feeling guilty about something, or being made to feel guilty by someone, or something (not the same thing). I can choose to feel guilty about something or other, but find it difficult to resist being made to feel
guilty. This starts with a small sense of unease that sits like a lump of uncooked dough in your gut, which rapidly grows to make you feel bloated. Then it moves to your head and sits in your head, a mental bloat that takes over rational thought (not that I'm all that rational to start with, but whatever rationality is there pretty much disintegrates).

Just call me Maud.

It's been too long since there was any unqualified success at the workplace. Everything at the workplace is qualified and I'm sooo very tired of all the qualifications. And certain people should be made to toe the line - win the big one, and you'r banned from all the small ones. Yes, you know who you are. And then there's the purveyors of fine red tape. red tape that's so fine, smooth and sleek - so much so that it binds and cuts. It makes you bleed until you die. The people who spin this particular form of tape out should have their face rubbed into it until their face are as shredded ribbons. Unlike dogs, this action is likely to teach them what-for, and then maybe they'll stop it. You're there to facilitate, so facili-fucking-tate. Not obfuscate and obstruct.

The bamboo leaves shall drive me to distraction yet - and not in a good way. These are last year's leaves which are shed to make room for the new ones. I like the new ones, the old ones - not so much. They flutter about, flirting with disaster in the wind, then obstinately only drop when the air is still - you see, this means that they don't dissipate with the wind, but land squarely on the ground and then are swirled about by the wind when it comes again. This creates mess and temptation for the dog what always wants to eat. Is it pica? is it opportunistic eating? Is it puppy curiosity (surely not for he's ingested so many so as to be satisfied with what it is - did I mention that it comes right out again, sometimes encasing the shit like a banana leaves wrap around sticky rice)? Is it a digestive disorder? Diabetes? Who knows - all I know is that it drives me to distraction and I have to remind myself that it's a puppy and doesn't know any better, and that I'd better take him for yet another bout of exercise so that it is tired tonight and sleeps the sleep of the tired innocent. Mind you, I can't overdo it either because if the little beast becomes overly wound up, he will bark, misbehave and chew and generally act out because it's tired, over-stimulated but can't sleep because htere's too much going on. Must. Develop. Empathy.

Oh - empathy - you can have too much of it and then it becomes dangerous. Dangerous because you become incapable of functioning. What was it the Dowager Countess said?

 “One can’t go to pieces at the death of every foreigner. We’d all be in a constant state of collapse whenever we opened a newspaper.”

Lovely isn't it? Too much empathy and you'd go to pieces any old way, at any old time. That is so true. So while must develop empathy, mustn't at the same time, overdo it. That's the ticket.

But back to guilt, I resent being made to feel guilty. That's all I'll say now, but it is another nail in the coffin. And I choose that word advisedly. That is until the next time. I hate all this enthrallment.  Ooh - who knew that was a real word?

There was an old lady - a bit Maud like - walking on the street the other day. She'd come out of the home for the aged, and was walking a bit unsteadily on the street to go around the block. And there it was, our future when we grow old. Our world will become every smaller and smaller until it shrinks to a bed or chair and our sight will go, and our senses will diminish until we become small ourselves and in this smallness, we'll eventually disappear. This is our fate for the most part unless a violent event cuts us down before we become too small.

Okay, so I can accept all this - the getting small, the shrinking and eventually becoming nothing. Why though, does it have to go with feeling that you need to achieve before shrinking. After all, does anyone really care? Not really. The wheel will ever be reinvented. Mark. My. Words.

Oh so many irritations abound today. Business units in-fucking-deed. Pah.

So where was I? Oh yes, walking around taking the pooch for his constitutional.

Anyway, I refuse. REFUSE. to be blackmailed. I am not responsible for what happened, and I've done what I can. That's all I can do, and I will not allow guilt to shame me into doing more. Bah. So. There.

Seriously though, that's all I can do. I cannot take on any more responsibilities. Good lord, who wants it? All I want to do is to cut grass and cut into the turf, and redo some lawn.

So I was thinking about something a little while ago - if the proverbial genie shows up and grants me a bunch (I want more than 3) wishes, what would I wish for?

Let's see.

Enough funding to do some good
An idea that will do some good
Motivation to do good (it's touch and go these days)
A champion who will do good

Enough funding to take care of home/housing needs
Better signalling between brain and feet
Fewer itching
A dark pooch

Better chemical balance
Fewer crayfish
Less empathy
More empathy

Ahhhh - but you see, the empathies are directed to different things.

Anyway, I could go on, but I can sense a negative swirl coming, so I shall stop and try to freeze my tongue again with cherry ice cream.