After a really rough day, the TED application is in.
As I mentioned in my last post, I pretty drastically edited the text
that my stranger/partners (whose idea it was to approach TED) gave to me as
their contribution and it just destroyed me today. I was wracked with shame and
worry all day until I heard back from them that I could go ahead and submit the
altered text.
So the pitch is in and now we wait (without expectation). I may take
myself out for dinner. Or not.
•
The intensity of the anxiety I felt after editing the
Christine/Patrick/Steve text has me feeling like a man returning from the
front. It was the third “strike” of the week: First was the scathing letter
from the friend who dumped me, then came Rob’s visit during his paranoid
schizophrenic attack — and then the edit drama.
No wonder I want to isolate myself. Life is hard.
I am going to talk to Dr. Shoja about the hell I went through
recently. Last night I had to take a
blue pill to calm down. I haven’t had one of those for, perhaps, two months.
•
I have a friend awaiting a heart transplant. What anxiety he must
live with! The surprising thing that has me mentioning this is that his surgeon
happened to mention a positive effect of the fentanyl opioid crisis here. There
is an abundance of organs for the transplant teams here due to the deaths of so
many young and vital people.
•
Working on the wheat dress is going to be a trial. So is storing it,
moving it and showing it. It is an impractical medium but I think it is going
to look okay and it is going to be satisfying to create. I am very keen on this
one — not because of how it will look or due to the materials I use, but
because of the idea behind it. I love the story and it feels so Canadian to
have a wheat dress.
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