I have no patience whatsoever. Monkey wanted me to help him set up some additional account on his Xbox this morning and I nearly flipped out – how bloody complicated can it be? Via a Mensa test I took about 10 years ago, I have a certificate showing I have some serious brain power going on, but this bloody thing I cannot figure out. I don’t know if this is yet another shortcoming I have that has sprung from growing up and finding everything easy. It sure has caused me considerable frustration as an adult not to be top of the class without having to work freaking hard, and sometimes not even then. Gosh, that Xbox nearly got thrown out of the window. Told Monkey we’d have to wait for B to be back this evening, gave him a big hug and apologised for my short fuse. He giggled.
It’s lucky that these two boys seem to manage me so well, because at times like this I want to slap me. And I probably would if I weren’t ME. Actually, that’s not true, I’d never lay hand on another human being in that way, but perhaps it doesn’t count if it’s yourself you’re slapping?
I’m talking shite. These are morning pages, but come on – focus.
Another thing that sometimes goes hand in hand with my severe lack of patience, is how irritable I can be. Honestly, I can wind myself up over the most trivial things, but given where I’m at and given my positive nature, these instances are slowly but surely being purged. I’ve learnt a great deal in the last few weeks, witnessing myself around the writing process, and this morning was another little lightbulb moment.
As I stood by the stove making porridge for B when he was in the shower, I was browsing the news and Facebook on my phone. Facebook! I like it for so many reasons and it’s bloody great for someone who moved abroad and would otherwise miss out on so much that goes on, but it causes a lot of shit too. This friend of mine, who I used to call Frenemy until I decided enough was enough and had it out with her, has a tendency of putting things on there that just annoy me. Because life is too short, I therefore unfollowed her what must be a good three years ago, not at all far into our friendship. As she freely admits, status is very important to her and her updates often seem a little contrived, and, well – I’m better off not reading them. Why feel irritation when I can watch cute videoclips of kittens instead?
These days – for the record – Frenemy is actually a friend, or at the very least somebody I really care about, and now that we’ve removed the pretence and need to prove something, I reckon it might just turn out pretty damn great. The other night when she came over must be the first time since right at the beginning of getting to know each other, that she left and I felt relaxed afterwards. Previously, she’d really get under my skin and I’d be cringing and feeling irritated at the same time. Problem solved with a great little thing called honesty – I’m a big fan of that stuff.
Anyway. I’d say I have probably at least five friends on Facebook who regularly post crap that just makes me sigh, and I’ve unfollowed all of those. I don’t want to cut them off, because they’re all people I like, I just don’t need to make myself read things that’ll rub me up the wrong way, that’s all. Like excessive status updates about dog training courses, how far EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DAY someone’s run using Runkeeper, or another goddamn political rant.
Sometimes people don’t seem to post stuff because they have something to say or necessarily need to show – it sometimes seems to me that a lot of those look-at-me status updates are designed to make them look good. Like a woman I know, who trust me, is anything but zen – endless memes with inspirational quotes. Or another example where another lady, who refuses to work and is squeezing her ex for everything she can get and beyond – sticking a meme on there about how good things come to people who work hard. That was the time I choked on my morning coffee and it came out of my nose because I laughed so hard. Irritating but amusing too.
But as R suggested, today’s brief moment of irritation when I made porridge gave me a bloody brilliant starting point for that difficult alcoholic Lucy! She’s going to be one of those annoying Facebook preachers, and that can be a great way of getting her into the story. I first toyed with the idea of giving her a more explosive entrance, like turning up hammered to the family Christmas dinner and in a drunken haze give Alice and everyone else a piece of her intoxicated mind, but this is way better and I can keep the crimbo madness anyway!
See? I’m still irritable Anna who doesn’t have a lot of patience, but I’m getting pretty good at turning negatives into positives and the book is turning out so much better and richer for it.