Pootling Along

I didn’t write yesterday, which is unusual for me. The truth is, I have a couple of big things in my life right now that I don’t feel able to blog publicly.  One I won’t mention at all; for the other I will say that I went to my new volunteering yesterday, but I don’t think that it’s really right for me.  I don’t really want to say more than that publicly.  I’m going to try one more week and decide what I’m going to do.  I’m also looking for alternative voluntary work, hopefully more suitable.  (The current volunteering was picked more because it was a family-connected charity and because it was book-related.)

Between waking up late on the one hand and going to the theatre in the evening on the other, I didn’t do much today.  I spent an hour looking for a new volunteering opportunity in case I leave the current one and spent half an hour working on my novel, writing a few hundred words and then earmarking most of them to be deleted and replaced with showing rather than telling.  Two millimetres forward and one back.  This may be a long process…  I did about half an hour of Torah study too, but I wished I could have done more.  I wish I could have done more of everything, really.

I did record myself talking again for CBT, but I ran out of things to say about the two and a half minute mark.  I recorded myself standing there fidgeting nervously for another minute before giving up.  Recording myself has made my nervous stimming (stroking my face, playing with my hands) more obvious, but most autistic people will say that suppressing stimming just makes things worse, so I’m not sure what the practical takeaway point from this is.

***

I went to the theatre with my parents this evening, a belated birthday present.  We saw The Play That Goes Wrong, which was very funny.  It’s about, or rather, it purports to be, a disastrous amateur dramatics society production of a Golden Age-style murder mystery.  Lines are fluffed, words are mispronounced (I fear I will always think of ‘cyanide’ as “ky-a-niddy” from now on), cues are missed, props mislaid, actors playing dead visibly move, scenery collapses and several cast members are concussed and replaced with script-reading technical crew.  I was worried I would find it too silly or one-note, but I hardly stopped laughing the whole evening.

***

I have things I want to say about Brexit, serious, satirical, faux-naive and goodness knows what else.  But my views on Brexit are as complex as my general political views (I can’t see a fence without trying to sit on it) and I’m too scared of argument.  I dislike confrontation and many of my friends disagree with me politically, one way or another.  I value friendship over partisanship (I’m old-fashioned that way), but I’m not sure how many of my friends feel the same way, so – nothing here about Brexit, or any other politics.  There is a political blog I read, but I don’t comment there much either, as the debate is often not so much heated as inflamed.

What I will say is that I feel that my life is somewhat like Brexit at the moment (Brexified?), because of the things I alluded to, but could not write about, in the first paragraph.  I feel that I’m approaching a crossroads and there could be a brave new beginning or a disastrous apocalypse, or just possibly, things could somehow pootle along as before and I’ll muddle through without actually resolving anything.  Time will tell, I suppose, for me and the country…