My brain is weird.

[sessifet]

It needs ritual. It doesn't often need it or need much of it, but that which it needs, it needs. And if it doesn't get it, it sulks. A lot. And it goes something like this:

Me: Yay tidying.
Brain: Yay tidying.
Me: Yay music
Brain: Yay music. Oooh, dancing. *poing*
Me: Yay housemate.
Brain: Yay housemate. Yay hugs.
Me: Oooooh, fillum!
Brain: Yay dance. Yay hugs. Fillum? What fillum?
*Intermission. Wherein brain and me ask for advice on which fillum should be watched. Advice: National Treasure. This is a good choice as we'd seen the National Treasure 2 trailer and had gone *want**
Me: Yay fillum!
Brain: Yay fillum!
Me: *faff about on computer* Hmm, you're not working.
Brain: Yay fillum!
*Intermission. Wherein one housemate wanders back downstairs and watching National Treasure together on big telly is discussed*
Brain: Why no fillum yet? Want fillum now!
Me: *decides fillum shall be watched on PC because it won't bother housemate who's decided to go back to bed and sort of yay private which is good because Nicolas Cage *yum**
Me: Yay fillum.
Other Housemate: I shall go to bed too. Bye.
Me: Okay. Hug? *puppy dog eyes*
*Short intermission wherein hug is given and received*
Me: Yay hug. Sleep well. Yay fillum!
Brain: ...
Me: What?
Brain: ...
Me: What?
Brain: They don't like you.
Me: Excuse me?
Brain: They don't like you.
Me: Er...are you okay?
Brain: They left you all alone and it's only 10 and they don't like you anymore. *sulks*
Me: You know what? Fuck this, I'm not falling for it.
Brain: *plots*
Me: I don't care.
Brain: releases fun chemicals*
Me: *is depressed*
Brain: *is smug*
*Intermission. Wherein our intrepid heroine seeks distraction by whining at friends. And ends up talking about cup sizes, and sentient, exploding penises.^*
Me: *is cheered up and realises it is late-ish and sort of time for bed, but she's not seen the fillum as planned.*
Brain: Fillum?
Me: Sod that. It's past our bedtime. Remember the driving thing tomorrow? Unless you want to crash da_pol's Rover, I think it'd be a good idea to go to sleep now.
Brain: Want fillum!
Me: Er. No. You should have thought of that before sulking and ruining what looked to be fun evening on my own.
Brain: But...
Me: I asked if they were going to go to bed! I specifically asked for a fillum to watch on my own. What did you expect?! Leprechauns coming out the woodwork to watch it with us? I was planning to grab the duvet and teddy and all. It was supposed to be a yay fun evening on my own!
Brain: But...no ritual!
Me: ...
Brain: No ritual means they don't care!
Me:...
Me: You know, we agreed you wouldn't do this anymore.
Brain: We did?
Me: Yes, we did. We made a pact. You wouldn't go around reading all sorts of negative things into every single thing anyone close to us ever does, and I promised not to smash you to a pulp with this here hammer.
Brain: Er...where you get that?
Me: Never you mind. Come closer.

In short, my brain goes completely haywire when it doesn't see the required signs and rituals of getting ready for bed. Try explaining that one to your housemates*.


^They go "Sex? Sex? Sex?" and apparently get stuck in sails. I did not start this mental image, I promise!

* "No, really! You have to start tidying the living room after you've said you're going to bed, but before you actually go to bed. Otherwise my brain goes all weird and I will have to sulk at other people until I feel better. You wouldn't want that, right? *pet lip*^^."

^^Which I am no good at and apparently makes me looks like some sort of deranged monkey.**

** I like my housemates. They make me feel all kinds of special.

Comments

[maryrperkins.livejournal.com]

*hugs*

You'll have to come over one night sometime. Do you have a new mobi number over here? Text it to me? 07751 696 055.

Mary x

[sessifet25.livejournal.com]

*hugs*

I plan to, when I've had my driving lesson and feel confident enough to drive around on my own :).

Text sent.

[ruthi.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I get those * I feel unloved*! things, too. For silly, silly stuff. It is good to recognise them -I call 'em paranoid thoughts - and beat them off .

(The partner came home with food from the supermarket, and he *knew* I was making food that evening.
Paranoid thoughts: He got food because he doesn't want to eat your cooking! He doesn't like you and doesn't like the food you make!!
Reality: he was hungry on the way home, the food can go in the freezer and be eaten when neither of us feel like cooking! Oh. That makes a lot more sense, actually. )

[novawildstar.livejournal.com]

*waves* I thought it was about time I added you as I've heard so much about you :)