venerdì, marzo 09, 2007

Really, really clever

So remember awhile ago when I was whining about not knowing what to do about investment markets? It turned out I did, this one time, anyways, and I managed to make good on the slide and recovery, which makes me feel as clever as I felt yesterday when I woke up not vomiting despite having gone to Bedfordshire piss drunk. Is the trick reading The Economist and not being a punk? Is that the big mystery? I don't know. Like any good Italian from upwardly mobile peasant stock I want to buy real estate, so I think I'll just keep playing with the market money I already have to play with and see if that's the case. It's all RRSPed up so it's not like it's real or anything, since I'm totally not guaranteed to make it to 65 or whatever.

Yesterday was busy busy busy, embarrassingly so for someone who was phoning it in, and I had my second-to-last appointment with my analyst. I'm going to miss him. That's a role that no one has played for me before and we talk about things and explore things that I can't do even by myself, let alone with anybody else. I still have about 75 more hours to clock up before I can apply to some analysis schools, but the idea of getting a new analyst feels as silly as getting a new best friend or a new cat just because I'm moving away from the old one. We can literally phone it in for awhile, but when I move to a city I suppose the next step will be getting a Francophone analyst so I can get over my massive distrust of them, just like Monsieur helped me get over my massive distrust of men.

Gahhhhhh. Time to work. I can't believe I'm still going there when my brain consistently refuses to join me.

5 commenti:

Sugarplum ha detto...

Congrats on being brilliant. You'd expect that if you read The Economist that something would sink in.

It must be hard to leave when you've been learning so much about yourself and the world from someone. I couldn't imagine it being easy to discuss your deepest thoughts with someone in your second language even if you did live in Paris and your French is top notch. Unless you begin to dream in French. I think that would be difficult.

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

I used to dream in French. Now I can hardly order a burger in it. We'll see how it goes, there are English language analysts all over Europe, for the fucked up foriegn workers, I suppose,

Sugarplum ha detto...

I consider dreams in French nightmares. Not a restful night's sleep. But I have never been immersed in it long enough to get comfortable in it.

Melbine ha detto...

Of course you're really, really clever! How much longer are you giving those pricks? I hope not next week still...

It is hard to replace something or someone really important to you. Especially someone that helped you get over your distrust of men - that's huge!

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

Ah, they're not pricks. It's a prickly industry but that's not their fault. Also I need that last G-note for some fun money. . . so next Thursday is my last day.

It sure is huge, although it was incidental. When I sort of took stock after a year and a half or whatever of seeing a guy therapist, everything is different. Maybe I'll post about that next week.