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Let's go to the MailBag, shall we?
Nov. 17th, 2005 01:33 amReceived about an hour ago:
... fine. Whatever.
PT went better than normal today. There's evidence of some considerable healing, so finally that's looking up. I came home, fscked about a bit with a jigsaw puzzle program I have, and answered a couple of emails. My mood was less than spectacular; it had already been a day of crying for no apparent reason, but I was still marginally functional. I realized as the afternoon rolled onwards that I needed to hit the pet shop for piggy bedding, so I put all the hardware back on my leg and headed for the store. Petsmart was a quick in-out trip, relatively painless, and I opted to wander into the adjacent Best Buy in hopes of finding something interesting to poke at. *shrugs* Lots of interestings, and insufficient cash, but it killed some time.
Two thirds of the way across the parking lot, I hear heavy boot treads behind me, and a stereotypical southern drawl: "Lookie here, Jeff. I think we got one 'a them there faggots.". My mind immediately did a fast inventory of what I was wearing even as I turned to make sure it wasn't aimed at someone else. Two 30-something men. Nobody else within reach. And my clothing inventory came back with a handful of pieces that were female but neutral appearing, and -nothing- even slightly flambouyant. Great. I attempted a tactful nod and went to move away, and redneck #1's ham-sized fist closed around my arm to turn me back. The conversation, if you could call it that, went downhill fast, and I was trying to figure out which of these bastards was the more dangerous when the cavalry arrived in the form of two plainclothes Maryland troopers who'd apparently also been in Best Buy. The redneck duo decided that I wasn't worth it at that point and made themselves scarce, leaving me alternating between near hysterics and thundering rage.
And there I've been since, though it's finally started to ebb now. I'm coherent enough to make a post, at least. I'm also coherent enough to point this out: if my away message is snarky, sending me a snarky email about it is only going to focus that anger on -you-. As the expression goes, taunt not the happy fun cabbit. Now I'm going to go fire up a game and blow sh!t up for a while. It's been therapeutic thus far.
| Jesus, Ellie, what the hell is up with the hostile away message? Moodiness is one thing, but isn't this a bit excessive? At least give some sort of explanation of what's going on, will ya? |
... fine. Whatever.
PT went better than normal today. There's evidence of some considerable healing, so finally that's looking up. I came home, fscked about a bit with a jigsaw puzzle program I have, and answered a couple of emails. My mood was less than spectacular; it had already been a day of crying for no apparent reason, but I was still marginally functional. I realized as the afternoon rolled onwards that I needed to hit the pet shop for piggy bedding, so I put all the hardware back on my leg and headed for the store. Petsmart was a quick in-out trip, relatively painless, and I opted to wander into the adjacent Best Buy in hopes of finding something interesting to poke at. *shrugs* Lots of interestings, and insufficient cash, but it killed some time.
Two thirds of the way across the parking lot, I hear heavy boot treads behind me, and a stereotypical southern drawl: "Lookie here, Jeff. I think we got one 'a them there faggots.". My mind immediately did a fast inventory of what I was wearing even as I turned to make sure it wasn't aimed at someone else. Two 30-something men. Nobody else within reach. And my clothing inventory came back with a handful of pieces that were female but neutral appearing, and -nothing- even slightly flambouyant. Great. I attempted a tactful nod and went to move away, and redneck #1's ham-sized fist closed around my arm to turn me back. The conversation, if you could call it that, went downhill fast, and I was trying to figure out which of these bastards was the more dangerous when the cavalry arrived in the form of two plainclothes Maryland troopers who'd apparently also been in Best Buy. The redneck duo decided that I wasn't worth it at that point and made themselves scarce, leaving me alternating between near hysterics and thundering rage.
And there I've been since, though it's finally started to ebb now. I'm coherent enough to make a post, at least. I'm also coherent enough to point this out: if my away message is snarky, sending me a snarky email about it is only going to focus that anger on -you-. As the expression goes, taunt not the happy fun cabbit. Now I'm going to go fire up a game and blow sh!t up for a while. It's been therapeutic thus far.
