Couch 241: Twin primes!

Hugs, Lost....

Hugs, Lost.

My current project: small afghans (about 18 inches across) for cats, to donate somewhere.

I've been making hard-boiled eggs in my electric kettle. It works pretty well. But occasionally an egg will crack, the whites will sort of ooze out the crack while it's boiling, and the resulting product looks like some sort of Lovecraftian horror. It's obviously edible. It's a boiled egg. But I have to talk myself into eating it.

So someone heard about the incident with my colleague and how poorly my chair handled it and reported it to the office in charge of discrimination cases.

Really did not want this to happen. They contacted me and told me they wanted to talk to me. Not sure what to do.

On the one hand it could help because frankly I’m miserable at work over it and have started job hunting again, even though I don’t really want to leave. On the other it could make things so, so much worse.

I'm glad someone had your back in reporting it, but I'm sorry it could make things worse. Could you talk to the person at the office and say you're not sure you're interested in taking this further? And share your concerns about what could happen?

Hugs, if wanted.

How worse, if you are already miserable? They initiated an evil, undemocratic act, and that tragedy cannot be unwritten. It is unfathomable that you were at the center of the attack to begin with.

ATAT - I hope it helps but I also know that it can make things much worse in an academic setting.
Unsolicited misguided attempts at do-gooding piss me off.

that happens to me sometimes when I cook mine in my Instant Pot! we eat them anyway too. I wish I'd taken pictures now, because they do look rather Lovecraftian don't they!

@@ I'm sorry this whole mess continues. I hope it can be resolved to your comfort and finally put to bed.

Amen to that, Artie. You found the perfect words.

Ah glorious sleep. I even slept in this morning until I had to pee so bad I had to force myself to wake up haha. I had a rather wild, science fiction-y kind of dream that was long and dark and exciting and scary and wondrous all rolled into one.

The main gist of it, I am visited by an angel who in life had been my ex's best friend, whom everyone called Uncle Lenny; there was a LOT more, but the part that stood out the most to me was he put his hands one on either side of my head and began uploading information into my mind, soooo much but only to the point where I could still continue to function normally. The only conscious piece of the knowledge that I remembered upon waking was that something spiritually significant to me is going to happen in 2023 and I was given a specific 7-day date range. I'm not going to write it here because it feels like I'm supposed to hold it close to my heart. I don't know that I've ever dreamed about an angel visiting me before, especially an angel that I recognize as a person who used to be in my life! It was totally bizarre.

As a side note: the dream was so, well, convincing, that I actually jotted a note on my 2023 calendar for that date range as a reminder to 'watch and wait'. We'll see if anything actually does come of it.

It’s true that so far I’ve lost two friends over this (colleague and chair, though not sure he realizes that yet), my satisfaction in my own workplace (my department, not my university, but being happy in my department meant the university was mostly bearable), plus all the feelings about being discriminated against. But the working environment could get so much worse. I have tenure, so losing my job is not the issue. I’m talking about quiet firing, getting a bad reputation of a complainer (it doesn’t matter that I didn’t report it, everyone will assume I did), getting the story blown out of proportion—because I can’t imagine my colleague is going to take this lying down, higher ups and colleagues taking sides for or against, and so on.

I can certainly share concerns, but the kinds of repercussions I’m worried about are very hard to document and just increase the cycle I mentioned above.

RIP Barbara Love (Sappho Was a Right On Woman)

It's that time of year, isn't it.

One of the newer things I dislike about getting older is that my same-age friends are beginning to lose their spouses (this most recent one, they had been married for 35 years. They got married young, she was only 18, but still, 35 years...) It's making me face my own mortality more than I'd like to admit, and that of H especially in light of his recent diagnosis. I guess it's time for some radical acceptance as in "this is life".

She was in her 80s-not cut down in the prime of life or anything. I do admire her and am thankful for all her hard work

After the whole Stutz/love conversations with P I was feeling a bit more loveable (talked some about this in the Stutz thread). Yesterday we actually met in person instead of video because one leg of his work trip got cancelled due to weather and he was still in town. I've been struggling lately with eating issues and some stuff came up about how my ex would put me down, basically insinuating that I was a pig. He would do it in a joking manner, like I was supposed to find it amusing as well, and would even tell the "joke" to other people in our life. I don't feel lovable at all right now. I really thought that with this recent discussion about how my therapist feels about me, it would make a difference, but this one thing comes up and I'm straight back to feeling unloved. Why does everything have to be so difficult?

Hugs, NP.

Also sending hugs to you, NP.

What do you do when you can't write the words down, or say them out loud, but they still need to exist somewhere outside your head...so that the therapist who cannot get inside your head can understand you?