update from sparkleup

writing/sawtooth/limerent-object/beats/07-seeds-of-doubt--1-wallow-1.md

@@ -1,4 +1,44 @@
-It's weird the things that you remember. I remember blinking my eyes rapidly in the middle of that meeting, for some reason. It's habit I now know that I have, and once I learned of it, I found myself thinking back to all of the times that I had done in it in the past, and there are a few stand out examples that stick in the mind as particularly embarrassing.[^embarrassing]
+I am struggling to internalize just what went wrong tonight.
+
+Today was fine. We spent it mostly just dealing with lunch and then poking around for food at a supermarket in case we wanted to cook later. Snacks were also lacking at Kay's so we grabbed a few.
+
+From there, we headed to the percussion festival, which was a short bus trip away. The auditorium was a work of wood fabric panels set into a horn shape, panels all angled in slightly different directions for some acoustic reason that I could not figure out. A pretty, if chaotic structure.
+
+Kay, as I remember from our time in school, brought along earplugs which she put in shortly before the concert started.
+
+One of the things that I think I struggled with the most was that, in some way. I know that she did so to keep from getting overwhelmed, and I know that she did it with every concert, but with all of our conversations leading up to the night along with the fact that she did so well before the music started, it felt as thought I was being shut out. She put in her earplugs and focused on the music all night long, and it was as if, for her, only the music existed.
+
+I am sure that it was some form of active listening on her part, if there is such a thing with music. Analytic listening? Something along those lines.
+
+And yet it was so strange to go from making each other laugh to absolutely no contact with each other, other than the fact that we were sitting next to each other. I should be respectful of her style of engaging with music. I know that, of course. Just as I should be respectful of the concert and the performers there.
+
+It was just so sudden. I ceased to exist, for her. I became a non-entity in a place entirely out of my element.
+
+The music appeared to be perfectly competent. There where rhythms that I could pick up on in the majority of the works, and occasionally a melody that I picked up on that fit with my expectations for music.
+
+This should not bother me. It shouldn't bother me at all. She has shown me countless recordings of pieces as strange as the ones I heard tonight, and back when we were in school, I attended several concerts with her of varying quality. Even when my feelings about her began to build, I never really had a problem with our shared silences during performances (such as they are, during a shared video stream).
+
+It never has bothered me, and so why did it tonight? Was it something we did before the concert started? Grocery shopping and lunch? What about that could lead to such a reaction? Was it the reminders of lunches from the past? I'm not sure of that, as we had lunch yesterday and there was no such attachment. Was it the domesticity of going to a grocery store together? Am I attaching meaning to something so mundane?
+
+And even now, it's not as though it was so sudden as I make it sound. Before the concert, we had to show our tickets, we had to file into the concert hall and find our seats. It was all so hushed, and slow. It was all as I remember it, really. And we did talk, too. She explained some of the pieces she recognized from the program, one of which she promises she had shown me before, though I didn't remember it from the name and composer alone. Afterward, she talked on the way home, and I let her gush about the music she enjoyed and complain about the music that she didn't, and while I listened, some part of me was growing more and more frustrated, almost resentful.
+
+I don't know what to do with this information, and I think it bothers me most at one level of remove. I felt shut out, and I suppose that is irksome on its own, but what really bothers me is that I felt bothered in the first place. I felt so bothered that I bent memories when writing this, and only on rereading them did I realize that I was doing so. I'm bothered that I am apparently so fragile as to be set on edge by perfectly normal actions.
+
+It's things like this that set limerence in an egodystonic light. I hate it. I hate that I like her and then get envious of the fact that she is enjoying something without me, something that we don't share. Resentment! Envy! Over what? What do I not possess that I wish that I did but for her? And how idiotic is that?
+
+I hate that I feel this way, and then I hate myself for building up so much resentment at myself. No matter the layer of remove, I feel like I fucked up.
+
+I almost wrote, "I think I might go home early" but I really don't think that I will. I am confronted with the fact that things will never live up to the ideal that limerence demands, and it has me frustrated, but not so much that I'm going to pull some overly dramatic nonsense like that.
+
+I'm just glad that there are no more concerts while I'm here.
+
+-----
+
+I am up early again, and while I do feel better, I am still feeling tender, and feeling cautious of that tenderness. I want to poke and prod at it. I want to explore its boundaries as one might find the limits of a bruise.
+
+I know better. At least, that's what I tell myself. I know better than to keep poking at a sore spot, so to that end, I'm digging into the other bit that Jeremy has been nudging me to explore, that of my discernment and sudden veering off the pastoral track and over to wherever it is that I am now. It's been years now, since I left, and although I may just be poking at a *different* sore spot, it is at least one that I know I have work to do surrounding it. There are memories there, might as well do the CBT thing and think back to what happened, and then back before that.
+
+It's weird the things that you remember, though. I remember blinking my eyes rapidly in the middle of that meeting, for some reason. It's habit I now know that I have, and once I learned of it, I found myself thinking back to all of the times that I had done in it in the past, and there are a few stand out examples that stick in the mind as particularly embarrassing.[^embarrassing]
 
 I remember blinking rapidly there, in the middle of that meeting, yes, and I remember Rev. Dr. Borenson leaning forward, rested his arms on his desk, and fiddling with a pencil. "Mr. Kimana?"
 

writing/sawtooth/limerent-object/lo-discernment-1.md

@@ -1,6 +1,8 @@
+I am up early again, and while I do feel better, I am still feeling tender, and feeling cautious of that tenderness. I want to poke and prod at it. I want to explore its boundaries as one might find the limits of a bruise.
 
+I know better. At least, that's what I tell myself. I know better than to keep poking at a sore spot, so to that end, I'm digging into the other bit that Jeremy has been nudging me to explore, that of my discernment and sudden veering off the pastoral track and over to wherever it is that I am now. It's been years now, since I left, and although I may just be poking at a *different* sore spot, it is at least one that I know I have work to do surrounding it. There are memories there, might as well do the CBT thing and think back to what happened, and then back before that.
 
-It's weird the things that you remember. I remember blinking my eyes rapidly in the middle of that meeting, for some reason. It's habit I now know that I have, and once I learned of it, I found myself thinking back to all of the times that I had done in it in the past, and there are a few stand out examples that stick in the mind as particularly embarrassing.[^embarrassing]
+It's weird the things that you remember, though. I remember blinking my eyes rapidly in the middle of that meeting, for some reason. It's habit I now know that I have, and once I learned of it, I found myself thinking back to all of the times that I had done in it in the past, and there are a few stand out examples that stick in the mind as particularly embarrassing.[^embarrassing]
 
 I remember blinking rapidly there, in the middle of that meeting, yes, and I remember Rev. Dr. Borenson leaning forward, rested his arms on his desk, and fiddling with a pencil. "Mr. Kimana?"
 

writing/sawtooth/limerent-object/wallow-1-concert-feast.md

@@ -31,8 +31,3 @@ I hate that I feel this way, and then I hate myself for building up so much rese
 I almost wrote, "I think I might go home early" but I really don't think that I will. I am confronted with the fact that things will never live up to the ideal that limerence demands, and it has me frustrated, but not so much that I'm going to pull some overly dramatic nonsense like that.
 
 I'm just glad that there are no more concerts while I'm here.
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