powerless belly fire Bad things happen to good people. We stand around and watch, feeling utterly powerless. There are those among us who place ego above decency; the decent will bear humiliation. 090915 ... epitome of incomprehensibility On Wednesday, the day before I had to go back to work, I heard some crashes from the kitchen. They sounded like a problem. It turned out a neighbour's tree had fallen on a power line that stretched across the street, and the power line in turn pulled at the mast that holds our house's electric line, causing it to fall down. The power hadn't gone off and nobody had gotten hurt, so I went to put the clothes I'd just washed in the dryer while Mom went outside to talk to the neighbour. Then I was on the phone with Hydro-Quebec, the public electricity service. When they understood the wire was hanging down low over the street so that cars couldn't pass, they came in a few minutes to fix it. A technician came inside our house and turned off the power as a precaution. I was in the basement for a while, hanging up clothes on the rudimentary clotheslines strung there (and then draping socks and underpants off the side of the laundry basket). By the time I went upstairs again the Hydro people were gone. The wire was righted, but we had to get a private electrician to fix problems on private property. Fair enough, but inconvenient. It was 4:30 and already getting dark (yay winter). The neighbour came over to talk, then left. Mom called Dad, lit some candles, called various electricians. The one she finally reached could get here "probably at 7." I sat down and wrote a letter and a journal entry by candlelight. It was good to concentrate on a task, forced into organization by circumstances, but then I started worrying about everything I couldn't do right then - the job I couldn't apply online for and the beading I couldn't do in the dark - so the writing got a bit plaintive. Okay, cranky. When Dad got here, he was afraid Mom would get depressed in the dark. Some people are sensitive to light and its lack. Maybe I am a little? I felt powerless, anyway. By virtue or vice of association. The electrician finally came around 7:40 and Dad convinced Mom and I to go to her friend R's house (a neighbour of sorts, ten minutes' walk away) and have showers. There we were, trudging in the snow: I was carrying an accessory bag that looked like a beach bag, plus a ruler that didn't quite fit. The ruler was for measuring a string that would go around R's neck, since one of the beading projects was a necklace I was making her and I wanted to know how long to make it. I'm sure I made a quite random sight on that winter road. When we got there, it was quite cheery. We had our showers. I spent time balancing the water temperature between burning and freezing. After that I sat on the couch while R.'s son had his supper. He's taking classes in commerce again; he had to stop school when he fell into a depression. He's my age, but his mother was treating him like a kid, grumbling at him to put the dishes away. I think I treated him badly on these pages - without him knowing it. At one point I was writing about a party I'd been to at his house, and I speculated how I might calculatedly fall in love with him because his instability would make me look good by comparison. Something awful like that. And I felt bad, looking at him, that I'd dealt with him like an imaginary character, as a prop to my narrative voice. He asked me about my work, and I asked about his classes. I mentioned the problems we had getting finance tutors to stay, since they got better-paying jobs elsewhere. I meant to be obliquely encouraging, but it came off as completely irrelevant (he's not in finance, after all). Then he burped aloud so his mother would grumble. I measured her neck, but with her measuring tape, which was more logical than taking string and measuring that string with a ruler. We decided on a short necklace, 15 inches. Mom came up, hair wet, and we all had tea and a chat before going. Mine was herbal tea with a cinnamon stick - fancy. R's house is warm and well-lit, with paintings and photos and corny but nice-looking knickknacks, so it was encouraging. When I got back, Dad had started the generator. The fridge and a heater were going, plus a little lamp. The electrician didn't have the tools to finish the job that day. The power wasn't restored until about 9:30 the next night (yesterday). I went to a job I'm not good at and missed out on my opportunity to apply for a job I might get. But I used a scented candle I'd gotten as a gift. It wouldn't have been remotely useful without the power outage. 170106 ... unhinged depression still comes in waves, relentless, like the ocean. inexolerable, circadian, i lay with it, like my moles, beauty marks, freckles. i can cover it up but it is always there underneath. 170108 ... unhinged (on my better days i don't believe this at all. when i take the time to look i see a deep well of strength inside of me shambhala_training i need to meditate for longer periods. a weekend retreat would be nice) 170110 what's it to you? who go blather from