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Jan. 30th, 2003 02:32 pmA nice little lemming from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dansr, who pulled it from lys1022
You are not European.
What's your Inner European?
brought to you by Quizilla
And now for the morning growl: Megan almost got herself killed last night.
She's developed this crushing need to run a damned spaceheater in the bedroom. This from the woman that gives me a ream of crap if I -dare- to turn the furnace up. This is an issue for several reasons of varying importance:
And last night it blew -again-... when I was 97% complete with a 35meg download that'd been running for hours. Resuming it from the breakpoint wasn't an option. And because I'm running WinXP on this machine, it means it takes nearly a half hour to reboot it from the sudden power kill. Her response? To whine an 'I'm sorry, I just turned it up a little...'. Suffice it to say, I exploded. When the dust settled, she was sobbing in the bedroom, I was seething in the living room waiting for my poor machine to reboot so I could start the d&&ned download again, and the promise I'd made hung in the air in scarlet letters: The next time she pops the breaker when I'm in the middle of something, I'm going to smash that heater to bits and put the pieces in her bed for her to sleep on. And you know what? Where in the past I've caved and backed out of the confrontation when she burst into tears, this time I just glared at her until she fled. I still felt like a heel, but that only made me angrier... fleeing likely saved her butt last night.
Temper? Me? Yes, actually, I've got a pretty nasty one. But I've got so many layers of controls and buffers built atop it that most of my newer friends consider me a 'pushover'. After a long talk with someone who knows my heart better than anyone alive... I believe I've buried it -too- deeply. Retaining control is important, particularly given the mayhem I'm capable of, but too much control will strangle -me-. My capacity for cold, killing rage is something that, to be honest, scares the hell out of me. It may be the sheer exhultation that flows through my mind when that anger is unleashed; I -like- it. The endorphin rush alone makes it an almost sexual experience, freeing me from the pain that's torn me apart for the last two and a half years. Years ago, my Mistress taught me how to harness that... how to live within it, and channel it into positive action without the rage tinting everything black. When I left Her Service, I was lost and alone... and things were forgotten. I can't remember how to get back to that empowered state, and worry that if I -do- get back there that what little tact I possess will vanish in the flurry of making things right again.
Yeah, I know I'm neurotic. It's one of my larger flaws. But that doesn't necessarily invalidate what I see and feel, does it? Snowy, Frances, Rowan, Lithlia (if you're still reading)... the four of you may be able to make sense of this. Darlings, if you've got input on this, please give it?
*hugs and cuddles*
~Ellie-chan
dansr, who pulled it from lys1022You are not European.
What's your Inner European?
brought to you by Quizilla
And now for the morning growl: Megan almost got herself killed last night.
She's developed this crushing need to run a damned spaceheater in the bedroom. This from the woman that gives me a ream of crap if I -dare- to turn the furnace up. This is an issue for several reasons of varying importance:
- The bedroom is now too warm for me to sleep in, even -with- my tranquilizers.
- Said spaceheater keeps blowing out the breaker... the same breaker that my PC is on.
- The electric bill is going to be a freaking nightmare this month.
- Because there's heat coming from the back of the house, it's preventing the furnace from cycling properly, leaving the rest of the house chilled.
And last night it blew -again-... when I was 97% complete with a 35meg download that'd been running for hours. Resuming it from the breakpoint wasn't an option. And because I'm running WinXP on this machine, it means it takes nearly a half hour to reboot it from the sudden power kill. Her response? To whine an 'I'm sorry, I just turned it up a little...'. Suffice it to say, I exploded. When the dust settled, she was sobbing in the bedroom, I was seething in the living room waiting for my poor machine to reboot so I could start the d&&ned download again, and the promise I'd made hung in the air in scarlet letters: The next time she pops the breaker when I'm in the middle of something, I'm going to smash that heater to bits and put the pieces in her bed for her to sleep on. And you know what? Where in the past I've caved and backed out of the confrontation when she burst into tears, this time I just glared at her until she fled. I still felt like a heel, but that only made me angrier... fleeing likely saved her butt last night.
Temper? Me? Yes, actually, I've got a pretty nasty one. But I've got so many layers of controls and buffers built atop it that most of my newer friends consider me a 'pushover'. After a long talk with someone who knows my heart better than anyone alive... I believe I've buried it -too- deeply. Retaining control is important, particularly given the mayhem I'm capable of, but too much control will strangle -me-. My capacity for cold, killing rage is something that, to be honest, scares the hell out of me. It may be the sheer exhultation that flows through my mind when that anger is unleashed; I -like- it. The endorphin rush alone makes it an almost sexual experience, freeing me from the pain that's torn me apart for the last two and a half years. Years ago, my Mistress taught me how to harness that... how to live within it, and channel it into positive action without the rage tinting everything black. When I left Her Service, I was lost and alone... and things were forgotten. I can't remember how to get back to that empowered state, and worry that if I -do- get back there that what little tact I possess will vanish in the flurry of making things right again.
Yeah, I know I'm neurotic. It's one of my larger flaws. But that doesn't necessarily invalidate what I see and feel, does it? Snowy, Frances, Rowan, Lithlia (if you're still reading)... the four of you may be able to make sense of this. Darlings, if you've got input on this, please give it?
*hugs and cuddles*
~Ellie-chan
