i was not allowed to blog yesterday.
i was being punished.
i had been a very bad kitten.
actually, i was a very unhappy kitten. you could blame hormones, i suppose. one can always blame hormones and i did in fact have pms (at my age!!!) and an accompanying migraine.
but i was also suffering from the separation. i haven't seen the philosopher since Martin Luther King Day. and it will likely be a long time until i see him again. he has this weird idea that it's better for him not to see me until he finishes his dissertation. i sure hope that's serving as good incentive, because for me it's torture. though of course we do know that he likes to torture me...
anyway, sunday i was feeling down, and sunday night he didn't call, and didn't write that he wouldn't call, although sunday nights in fact are just a sometime thing. it's all in my expectations.
by monday i was in full pout mode.
my wake-up call was not what you would want to hear first thing in the morning.
at lunch time i found this message in my inbox. its disapproving tone was magnified by having come from his regular account, not our private one, which meant that it was under his own name.
Subject: Sullen Kitten
You sounded a bit sulky this morning, kitten.
A wakeup call should be bright and cheerful, or else
what's the point?
Plus, you used a rubber band without my express
permission. It is not your place to hurt yourself,
kitten. That is for me alone.
No blogging today. And when you get home, write out
the phrase "I will not be a sullen kitten" 50 times,
then send me a picture.
Is this clear?
i didn't like being denied blogging. but i appreciated the punishment. writing lines works well for me. being punished works well for me. it is focusing. it gives me the control i need. and it makes me feel taken care of. especially when i have pms or am otherwise moody, i need to feel taken care of.
(the rubber band reference was to my having snapped one around my wrists that morning, hard, in hopes of jolting myself out of my bad mood. it didn't work. it just got me into more trouble.)
i did write the lines when i got home.
and took pictures.
and sent them.
i do try to be obedient.
and then we had a long bedtime phone call, and i cried, and admitted to being afraid of saying how unhappy i was at his absence, even as i try to accept it because the most important thing is for him to finish. i carry fears of triggering another episode like last february, i'm afraid that if i cry over missing him that he'll put me out and lock the cat door and not let me back in. but he was sweet and comforting and accepting and said it was ok to cry, and did the best he could to gather me in his arms and soothe my hair and kiss away my tears considering we were 250 miles apart.
and then we talked about my trip to Harrisburg as a missionary for Obama, and we talked about the Catholic church, and we talked about this naked blogging business, and we talked about the cats. and i was his slave kitten and i was his girlfriend and i miss him horribly and i love him very much and i'm still suffering from pms today and still have a bit of a migraine but i won't be a sullen kitten and will at least sound sweet when i call if not quite perky.
and now i'd better get dressed and feed the cats and take the garbage out and go off to work and be a productive member of society.
though i can't help thinking...
memorial day is a national holiday.
it's a 3-day weekend.
even grad students need a little vacation sometimes.