Do you know, I hadn't even noticed I had called you that? It is an old family nickname -- a sign of my affection for you, I suppose. And fitting, since you have been thinking of family of late, and I suppose I have as well. But we have spoken of that before, have we not? I suppose it's the impending holidays; they make me somewhat melancholy.
(At least melancholy is better than furious. I came so very close to losing my temper utterly with the fourth-years today; half of them did not turn in assignments at all, or turned in something that was clearly written in haste over the breakfast table. While several of them had the excuse of being closely related to someone who joined in the fight, and thus worried for their relations, others simply appear to have seized the opportunity to ignore their studies entirely. Had it been any other week I no doubt would have been able to approach the problem calmly; as is, I am surprised you could not hear me yelling across the castle before I reined in my temper. I am trying so hard to be patient, truly I am, but today has tested my patience sorely.)
As to the rest of it -- I am, I suppose, not the best person to advise in familial matters, not having had much experience with the type of brood yours clearly is. But it seems to me from what you have described that the hallmark of your family is a certain generosity of spirit, perhaps best demonstrated when one of yours is in need. If they are willing to smooth your way, during a time that is difficult for you, it might be taken as a sign that though they do not wholly understand you, nor your choices, they are still yours, and you theirs, and they are showing it in the best way they know how.
That you have been avoiding your bed even now troubles me -- I am well aware that your inner turmoil first manifests in sleeplessness -- but I suppose I am being more of a mother hen than I ought. Which is likely a cue I should seek my own sleep. I will try to catch you tomorrow to brief you on my discussion with Minerva, in which less was decided than I would have liked but which is, I believe, an excellent start.
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Re: Private Message to Aurora Sinistra
Date: 2012-11-21 03:50 am (UTC)Do you know, I hadn't even noticed I had called you that? It is an old family nickname -- a sign of my affection for you, I suppose. And fitting, since you have been thinking of family of late, and I suppose I have as well. But we have spoken of that before, have we not? I suppose it's the impending holidays; they make me somewhat melancholy.
(At least melancholy is better than furious. I came so very close to losing my temper utterly with the fourth-years today; half of them did not turn in assignments at all, or turned in something that was clearly written in haste over the breakfast table. While several of them had the excuse of being closely related to someone who joined in the fight, and thus worried for their relations, others simply appear to have seized the opportunity to ignore their studies entirely. Had it been any other week I no doubt would have been able to approach the problem calmly; as is, I am surprised you could not hear me yelling across the castle before I reined in my temper. I am trying so hard to be patient, truly I am, but today has tested my patience sorely.)
As to the rest of it -- I am, I suppose, not the best person to advise in familial matters, not having had much experience with the type of brood yours clearly is. But it seems to me from what you have described that the hallmark of your family is a certain generosity of spirit, perhaps best demonstrated when one of yours is in need. If they are willing to smooth your way, during a time that is difficult for you, it might be taken as a sign that though they do not wholly understand you, nor your choices, they are still yours, and you theirs, and they are showing it in the best way they know how.
That you have been avoiding your bed even now troubles me -- I am well aware that your inner turmoil first manifests in sleeplessness -- but I suppose I am being more of a mother hen than I ought. Which is likely a cue I should seek my own sleep. I will try to catch you tomorrow to brief you on my discussion with Minerva, in which less was decided than I would have liked but which is, I believe, an excellent start.
Yours,
T