Lyrics: “Worse Things Happen At Sea ~ Frank Turner, 2007
I’ve been back home for about 48 hours and admit that I have a bit of a struggle to not spiralling down by some spell of self-doubt, anxiety and such. Argh! I was doing so well in Scotland away from all the distractions and all those tiny triggers, which seem to set me off so easily. I’ve been in my head too much today and partially yesterday reliving embarrassing (in my eyes only probably) moments from the last three decades. Not kidding. Moments with friends and family and work and politics and in fandoms. Moments everybody else will either not even have noticed or if they did notice they’ll long since forgotten about. My mind? Sadly not so much! Why? And why now? FFS.
Deep breath. I’ve got three more days at home to find my happy or at least content state again. I’m glad to know by now that this too shall pass, but it sucks a bit when I’m stuck in it and have to actively find my way back out.
I very much enjoyed my last day in Scotland (on Sunday), taking the car back to Inverness, spending some time in the sun in the city, taking it easy. The trip down south on the sleeper train? Well, let’s say I didn’t sleep much. Or at all it to be honest. I can’t really blame the train or anything, it just turns out that I’m just not made for sleeping in a narrow bunk in a moving vehicle. But I guess I had to try it to find that out, so I don’t regret my choice to use the Caledonian Sleeper. The whole experience also sadly drove home the fact, that I’m not in my 20s anymore. I didn’t stay up for over 24 hours often back then, but I seem to remember that it felt easier. It might be a faulty memory, but I don’t recall ever having been so out of it as I was on Monday while I was sitting in the terrace cafe at the British Library and wait for the fingers on the clock to move to 12, so I could check into my hotel.
There I managed to catch about 3 hours of sleep, which helped to get me to a conscious state so I could enjoy Operation Mincemeat once more. I’m not going to do another review, don’t worry. But it’s been interesting to be able to catch more and more of the many mindblowing details of this show. Characters I had not consciously registered being on stage during certain numbers, because I was so mesmerized by the main action.
I was lucky to catch @ZoeBobRoberts after the show & she confirmed my vague notion that they did use lyrics from a song ("Special Boy") they had dropped along the way for the final version of "Born to a Lead". I knew it! I've also clearly seen the show way too many times 😄 pic.twitter.com/wVfzsTEylA
— Susanne D | @dennasus@mastodon.scot (@dennasus) June 5, 2023
Bad segue from being a fangirl for a musical to being a fangirl in general: As you can imagine I’ve got some thoughts on the current ongoing (online) discussion about the singer of a rockband systematically misusing his power to recruit female fans to have sex with. But these thoughts will take a while to untangle and write down in coherent fashion. At the moment I don’t know if I will ever do that at all, because I’m not sure spending so much thought with my rage about it all will help or rather hinder my attempt to get my mental equilibrium. We’ll see.
