Back from holidays. Well, not holidays as such, but not being here. Being with different people; the effects are curious. My prose style has shifted. Conciser. Now back home, and I have to resume my previous personality. This can be a struggle, particularly when you’ve been sleeping heavily, dreaming vividly, and at the slightest hint of blurriness will immediately assume that this is still a dream. All seems like quite an effort.
And not having email contact. Even for a little while – then you check the news, and weird things are going on. Email – a hundred little things being asked of you. Blog – now you start to get seriously concerned. And yet, at another level, despite all the stuff that’s going on, I’m oddly calm, as though I’ve stepped outside of myself. That normally seems to occur to me in times of severe stress, presumably as a form of coping mechanism. But then I read what I’ve written, and think – did I write that? It all sounds like thoughts I might have had, couched in language I might have used, but with a curious sense of emotionality behind it that’s removed from my current state of mind. Was that really me? Or is this really me? And which is to be master?
I need some sleep.