Okay, massive overreaction. She's just texted to say she'll call me from work tomorrow (so that the call's free). I really, really need to pull myself together. I can't let this stuff affect me so much. I need to be more positive and stop jumping to conclusions based on the flimsiest of premises.
But enough blog posting, there's work to be done.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Maybe I should just outline everything that's wrong with me. We'll start with the basics.
No job (The work I'm doing at the moment really doesn't count).
No place of my own. That means I have to live at home. With my Mum. Who has now just had a go at me for making her miserable because I'm upset.
I have more, (the depression, the geekiness, the (admittedly less over the last couple of weeks) fatness, the fact that I'm actually pretty dull and unexciting...
But, screw it. Girls are way too much trouble anyway. I always end up feeling awful afterwards and I just get the impression that the pleasure isn't worth the interminable pain.
I think what I'm saying is that if you've been missing the downbeat comedy that is my miserable excuse for a life, then you're in luck; normal service has resumed.
No job (The work I'm doing at the moment really doesn't count).
No place of my own. That means I have to live at home. With my Mum. Who has now just had a go at me for making her miserable because I'm upset.
I have more, (the depression, the geekiness, the (admittedly less over the last couple of weeks) fatness, the fact that I'm actually pretty dull and unexciting...
But, screw it. Girls are way too much trouble anyway. I always end up feeling awful afterwards and I just get the impression that the pleasure isn't worth the interminable pain.
I think what I'm saying is that if you've been missing the downbeat comedy that is my miserable excuse for a life, then you're in luck; normal service has resumed.
And so it begins...
OK, well I guess this was inevitable. I was really just waiting for this to happen, but I'm pretty sure that the girl I saw last week isn't all that interested in me. I guess it's obvious why. I don't have a job, I live at home; the list goes on a and on. What am I basing this all on. Well I emailed her today and didn't get a response. In of itself that's no bad thing, she doesn't have much time to access teh internet at work. Anyway, I thought I'd text her to see how things were going and to see if she was free this week. Her first text didn't even mention meeting up. Her second (sent within a few minutes of the first, said she couldn't see me this week.
Maybe I was too eager, maybe not enough. Maybe I'm just an arse, I really don't know. Anyway, she says she's busy for much of this week and really needs to save her money. She's basically put me off for another week or two. That's it really isn't it. She's probably seeing someone else who's much cooler, more handsome and with a better situation than me. I loose.
I have a lot of work to do this week (some more writing work came through for me today), plus I'm meeting up with a friend to discuss another project, so I do have plenty of things with which to fill my week, so from a logistical side, it doesn't really matter too much. It's just that I think
I was just getting over my anxiety over the whole thing and heading towards being relaxed about it. What a dumb mistake.
I can't even say I'll pay because she mentioned that she wanted to have a quiet week. In other words, she covered all her bases. She doesn't want to see me.
I wish my happiness weren't so intrinsically linked to something so tenuous as whether a girl will go out with me or not. She also use the phrase, "Don't take it personally..." before telling me se couldn't see me this week. It really isn't happening is it.
Anyway, I texted her back. Said I understood. Asked if it would be okay to call her one evening. We'll see how that goes. I'm guessing the answer will probably be no.
Maybe I was too eager, maybe not enough. Maybe I'm just an arse, I really don't know. Anyway, she says she's busy for much of this week and really needs to save her money. She's basically put me off for another week or two. That's it really isn't it. She's probably seeing someone else who's much cooler, more handsome and with a better situation than me. I loose.
I have a lot of work to do this week (some more writing work came through for me today), plus I'm meeting up with a friend to discuss another project, so I do have plenty of things with which to fill my week, so from a logistical side, it doesn't really matter too much. It's just that I think
I was just getting over my anxiety over the whole thing and heading towards being relaxed about it. What a dumb mistake.
I can't even say I'll pay because she mentioned that she wanted to have a quiet week. In other words, she covered all her bases. She doesn't want to see me.
I wish my happiness weren't so intrinsically linked to something so tenuous as whether a girl will go out with me or not. She also use the phrase, "Don't take it personally..." before telling me se couldn't see me this week. It really isn't happening is it.
Anyway, I texted her back. Said I understood. Asked if it would be okay to call her one evening. We'll see how that goes. I'm guessing the answer will probably be no.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
It's just after one o'clock, and I'm a little nervous. It's actually kind of unusual that I'm even up right now, but I had to take my car to be MOT'ed and serviced (I'm hoping it's not going to cost too much; my bank reserves are running a little low) at 8am, and since I actually, quite unusually, managed to get to sleep before 1.30am the previous night, I didn't really feel a need to go back to bed.
Anyway, I'm nervous. Yesterday, at around 12pm, I sent an email to this girl to make arrangements to meet tomorrow. As of this moment, I'm yet to receive a response. Of course, that could be for a number of reasons not the least of which could be the continual email failures I've been experiencing from Friday onwards. Typical, I try to make arrangements via email, something I rarely ever do, and it chooses to break down on me. So, she may have replied, but I just haven't received it. She may also not have actually picked up her email yet (apparently she can only grab her emails at lunch time, and there's limited access to the computers).
Of course, as I write this, I've just received an answer to my text (I sent one this morning, just in case my email didn't get to her at all). I'm meeting up with her after all. Panic over. Crisis averted.
I really must have more faith in myself.
Actually, I thought I'd most likely get a response between 1 and 2. If she hadn't seen the email yesterday, she could check for it at lunch time today (which I felt pretty sure she'd do before replying).
Now I have butterflies in my stomach. It has, after all, been quite some while since I've on a popper date.
And now she called. Wow, it really is all go here today.
I really do like her, so I hope things work out. That's all I'm going to say about it for now.
Anyway, I'm nervous. Yesterday, at around 12pm, I sent an email to this girl to make arrangements to meet tomorrow. As of this moment, I'm yet to receive a response. Of course, that could be for a number of reasons not the least of which could be the continual email failures I've been experiencing from Friday onwards. Typical, I try to make arrangements via email, something I rarely ever do, and it chooses to break down on me. So, she may have replied, but I just haven't received it. She may also not have actually picked up her email yet (apparently she can only grab her emails at lunch time, and there's limited access to the computers).
Of course, as I write this, I've just received an answer to my text (I sent one this morning, just in case my email didn't get to her at all). I'm meeting up with her after all. Panic over. Crisis averted.
I really must have more faith in myself.
Actually, I thought I'd most likely get a response between 1 and 2. If she hadn't seen the email yesterday, she could check for it at lunch time today (which I felt pretty sure she'd do before replying).
Now I have butterflies in my stomach. It has, after all, been quite some while since I've on a popper date.
And now she called. Wow, it really is all go here today.
I really do like her, so I hope things work out. That's all I'm going to say about it for now.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
New policy
I think I'm going to stop writing about people I know. If I don't, I'll just end up saying hurtful things, they'll see it and, quite rightly, want nothing to do with me.
If anyone has read my blog and been offended by anything I've written, then I'm truly sorry. If there's anything that you want me to take down I'll remove it.
I haven't been feeling great today, so I apologise for the down tone of the day's posts.
If anyone has read my blog and been offended by anything I've written, then I'm truly sorry. If there's anything that you want me to take down I'll remove it.
I haven't been feeling great today, so I apologise for the down tone of the day's posts.
Mood Swing
Some good news.
Back in August I went for a copywriting job. I didn't get the job (though I made it to the final three), but mention was made that another position might come up later. I thought I'd email them to to find out if that was now the case. As it turned out, it wasn't, but I was asked if I would like to do a bit of freelance writing for them. Of course I replied yes. Now I just have to wait and see what happens.
I woke up this morning feeling really depressed. Right now I'm feeling way more positive.
I feel so much better right now. About everything. I realised that I was overreacting before, but knowing that and being able to control it are two very different things.
Back in August I went for a copywriting job. I didn't get the job (though I made it to the final three), but mention was made that another position might come up later. I thought I'd email them to to find out if that was now the case. As it turned out, it wasn't, but I was asked if I would like to do a bit of freelance writing for them. Of course I replied yes. Now I just have to wait and see what happens.
I woke up this morning feeling really depressed. Right now I'm feeling way more positive.
I feel so much better right now. About everything. I realised that I was overreacting before, but knowing that and being able to control it are two very different things.
In Shadows
I think I may have to stop writing for a while. I think I could be upsetting people. I've been downright nasty with some of these posts. I'm showing up the horrible side of my nature and giving people all the reason they need to stop talking to me. Perhaps that's what I think I deserve anyway.
It's been an odd week. Many of my fears about pursuing the things I want have come true. A few posts ago I wrote about how I didn't want to really look for any kind of female companionship until I was really capable. However, an opportunity presented itself and I seized it. Now, given how angst ridden and pained I feel, I wonder whether I shouldn't have just walked away. It's proving to be more difficult than I'd hoped. It's not impossible; it's not even really hard. In fact some wouldn't even see an obstacle at all. I just can't seem to stop myself from wanting to cease my journey down a path that might lead to a little bit of happiness.
This thing, this depression, rules my life, whispers terrible things in my ear about how worthless I am. It tells me that the worst is inevitable and that the only way to avoid all the pain is to just give up. I don't want to let it win, but my ultimate defeat seems inevitable.
One day, through my vitriol and hateful words, I will push away everybody that matters to me. Then I'll be alone and I can finally have the freedom to surrender.
I don't want any of that of course; not deep down anyway. The part of me that exists without shadow looks only for a bright future. Sadly the clouds are gathering and, at least for now, everything remains in shade.
It's been an odd week. Many of my fears about pursuing the things I want have come true. A few posts ago I wrote about how I didn't want to really look for any kind of female companionship until I was really capable. However, an opportunity presented itself and I seized it. Now, given how angst ridden and pained I feel, I wonder whether I shouldn't have just walked away. It's proving to be more difficult than I'd hoped. It's not impossible; it's not even really hard. In fact some wouldn't even see an obstacle at all. I just can't seem to stop myself from wanting to cease my journey down a path that might lead to a little bit of happiness.
This thing, this depression, rules my life, whispers terrible things in my ear about how worthless I am. It tells me that the worst is inevitable and that the only way to avoid all the pain is to just give up. I don't want to let it win, but my ultimate defeat seems inevitable.
One day, through my vitriol and hateful words, I will push away everybody that matters to me. Then I'll be alone and I can finally have the freedom to surrender.
I don't want any of that of course; not deep down anyway. The part of me that exists without shadow looks only for a bright future. Sadly the clouds are gathering and, at least for now, everything remains in shade.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
An Apology
I think I was a bit hasty. Never let it be said that I can’t have my mind changed. You may remember that I made some, rather harsh comments about a friend’s girlfriend. Well, I take quite a lot of it back. I went out for drinks last night, and she was there. She was actually pretty nice. Quite funny even. I still think that she’s a little too controlling, but I guess that’s my friend’s problem, not mine. If he’s happy with her, who am I to argue.
I guess every time I meet somebody I evaluate them anew. I suppose that must be a good thing. I make judgements, but I don't think that I'm not judgemental. A first impression counts for something, I just won’t hold you to it. I think that makes sense.
That was a short post, so I’ll do another in a bit.
I guess every time I meet somebody I evaluate them anew. I suppose that must be a good thing. I make judgements, but I don't think that I'm not judgemental. A first impression counts for something, I just won’t hold you to it. I think that makes sense.
That was a short post, so I’ll do another in a bit.
Friday, January 02, 2009
Happy New Year
Well, for the first time in ages, New Years Eve wasn’t a massive let down. That said, I spent much of New Years Day in a virtual coma. My head was pounding and there was a sickly taste of stale alcohol in my mouth that wouldn’t go away, even after some vigorous tooth brushing. By the time I got back from Wimbledon it was about 4.30am. I’m pretty sure that I more of less just went straight to bed, though I think I may have made myself a Cheese toastie first. It’s all very hazy. I didn’t really drink an awful lot, but I completely failed to eat dinner before I left. A packet of crisps and a Wispa bar (alongside the sausage rolls provided by my gracious hosts) was clearly not enough to cushion my stomach for the alcoholic blow that was to follow.
After a few drinks (I do wish I’d brought a bottle myself. I felt a little bad about just drinking everybody else’s beer) we headed off to a pub, where we remained until some time after 12pm. After that, we headed back to the house, drank a little more, and played some Wii. I was absolutely hopeless at Mario Kart. Right now I’m going to blame it on the drunkenness. I wouldn’t have been so bad otherwise, surely?
I was woken up at around 3pm. Frankly, with all the sleep I’ve not been getting of late, the extra rest was pretty essential. That said, I still felt pretty tired for much of the day, and a splitting headache forced me back to my bed just a few hours later. When I did eventually get up again, it was only because I had to answer a phone call a little before 9pm. Language had actually deserted me by this point, so I was unable to engage in the usual witty repartee. All I wanted to do was lie down and go back to sleep.
So, finally 2008 is over. I feel extremely relieved. Of course, the change is really only notional. There’s no real difference between 31st December 08 and 1st January 09, in much the same way as there’s no difference between 30th December and 31st December. However, I did feel that 2008 was somewhat tainted and moving on to 2009 will allow me put everything behind me and start anew.
So, my objectives for the year are...
1, Get a great job. When people ask what I do, I want to be able to proudly tell them without any need for a disclaimer.
2, Move out. Being at home is one of the reasons why I’m so depressed. I’m an independent person and I just feel too restricted at home. The problem is, it’s a bit of a catch 22 situation. I feel like I won’t really be able to completely sort myself out until I’ve moved out. Unfortunately, I doubt I’ll be able to move out until I’ve sorted myself out. I’ll probably just have to, at first, get any old job, move out, and then work on getting to where I want to be. Anyway, once I’m out of home I think I’ll be able to start living the sort of life I really want to live. I started feeling so much better after having two weeks alone in my house, and I’ve just hated going backwards since then.
3, Get a girlfriend. I said in a previous post that I really didn’t want a girlfriend at the moment. Well, I know that at some point, when a few more years have passed, I’m going to lament my loneliness. I know that wanting to be alone is a symptom of my depression. When I can finally get past that I know I’ll think differently about the whole thing.
Again, moving out will probably help with all this. I suspect my self confidence will gain something of a boost once I’m not being constantly deflated by my Mum’s scathing comments and that will, no doubt, make me more capable of attracting somebody decent.
4, Write something worthwhile. Whether it’s a film, a novel, or maybe just an article, I need to write something proper that I can be proud of. I should really get something started pretty soon. I doubt that I’ll be able to get a job until at least a couple of weeks into the year, so I’ll need to use the time I have left in a constructive way. Last month I wrote more posts than at any other time since I started my blog. Writing the blog was intended as a way of getting me into the habit of writing regularly so that I could finally produce something good. I think it’s really about time I took the next step.
5, Sell all my unwanted things on eBay. I really need to get rid of a bunch of things that I just don’t need. For a start, it’ll make things a lot easier when I finally move out. It’ll also provide me with some more money, which I can then use to buy more crap that I don’t need. I’ve actually hesitated selling my stuff on eBay because I fear that the whole thing will be a complete waste of time and I’ll end up getting such a small amount of money that it won’t be worth the hassle. I need to at least try to shift it, no matter how distasteful I find the selling process.
I’m sure I’ll think of some more things as the year progresses, but for now, that’s pretty much all I want out of the next twelve months.
Was there anything good about 2008?
Oddly enough, in 2008 I managed to buy pretty much everything I wanted. From a new surround system to a netbook, I bought everything that my heat desired. The only major things I’d like to buy now are a Wii and a Freeview hard disc recorder, and I have little use for either until I leave home. The Wii because it's more fun with other people, and the Freeview recorder because I currently live in a digital TV blackspot and I can only pick up a bunch of BBC channels.Of course that just goes to show that the accumulation of possessions just doesn’t make me happy. Perhaps I should be grateful that it doesn’t. At least it shows that I’m not that shallow.
Last year I went away more frequently than in any other year. Dublin and the Norfolk broads were great, but Warsaw was awful and my time there set up my major depressive run. That said, I did learn from the experience, and I guess I found out a lot about myself. That it finally led to me seeking help for my depression can only be a good thing. That said, I’d rather not have been forced to endure the torment.
I’ve also had some good times with friends, but everything was marred by the cloud of depression that’s been hanging over me for the last twelve months. Things, I’m sure, will be better next year. I’ll make sure that they are.
Finally, I just wanted to thank everybody with whom I saw in the New Year. I had a great evening and I really appreciate being included. It’s nice to get 2009 off to such a good start. With any luck (not to mention a concerted effort from me) the rest of the year will be just as good.
I'd also like to wish a Happy New Year to everybody who reads my blog. Thanks for sticking with me. Hopefully I'll be able to keep you entertained througout 2009.
After a few drinks (I do wish I’d brought a bottle myself. I felt a little bad about just drinking everybody else’s beer) we headed off to a pub, where we remained until some time after 12pm. After that, we headed back to the house, drank a little more, and played some Wii. I was absolutely hopeless at Mario Kart. Right now I’m going to blame it on the drunkenness. I wouldn’t have been so bad otherwise, surely?
I was woken up at around 3pm. Frankly, with all the sleep I’ve not been getting of late, the extra rest was pretty essential. That said, I still felt pretty tired for much of the day, and a splitting headache forced me back to my bed just a few hours later. When I did eventually get up again, it was only because I had to answer a phone call a little before 9pm. Language had actually deserted me by this point, so I was unable to engage in the usual witty repartee. All I wanted to do was lie down and go back to sleep.
So, finally 2008 is over. I feel extremely relieved. Of course, the change is really only notional. There’s no real difference between 31st December 08 and 1st January 09, in much the same way as there’s no difference between 30th December and 31st December. However, I did feel that 2008 was somewhat tainted and moving on to 2009 will allow me put everything behind me and start anew.
So, my objectives for the year are...
1, Get a great job. When people ask what I do, I want to be able to proudly tell them without any need for a disclaimer.
2, Move out. Being at home is one of the reasons why I’m so depressed. I’m an independent person and I just feel too restricted at home. The problem is, it’s a bit of a catch 22 situation. I feel like I won’t really be able to completely sort myself out until I’ve moved out. Unfortunately, I doubt I’ll be able to move out until I’ve sorted myself out. I’ll probably just have to, at first, get any old job, move out, and then work on getting to where I want to be. Anyway, once I’m out of home I think I’ll be able to start living the sort of life I really want to live. I started feeling so much better after having two weeks alone in my house, and I’ve just hated going backwards since then.
3, Get a girlfriend. I said in a previous post that I really didn’t want a girlfriend at the moment. Well, I know that at some point, when a few more years have passed, I’m going to lament my loneliness. I know that wanting to be alone is a symptom of my depression. When I can finally get past that I know I’ll think differently about the whole thing.
Again, moving out will probably help with all this. I suspect my self confidence will gain something of a boost once I’m not being constantly deflated by my Mum’s scathing comments and that will, no doubt, make me more capable of attracting somebody decent.
4, Write something worthwhile. Whether it’s a film, a novel, or maybe just an article, I need to write something proper that I can be proud of. I should really get something started pretty soon. I doubt that I’ll be able to get a job until at least a couple of weeks into the year, so I’ll need to use the time I have left in a constructive way. Last month I wrote more posts than at any other time since I started my blog. Writing the blog was intended as a way of getting me into the habit of writing regularly so that I could finally produce something good. I think it’s really about time I took the next step.
5, Sell all my unwanted things on eBay. I really need to get rid of a bunch of things that I just don’t need. For a start, it’ll make things a lot easier when I finally move out. It’ll also provide me with some more money, which I can then use to buy more crap that I don’t need. I’ve actually hesitated selling my stuff on eBay because I fear that the whole thing will be a complete waste of time and I’ll end up getting such a small amount of money that it won’t be worth the hassle. I need to at least try to shift it, no matter how distasteful I find the selling process.
I’m sure I’ll think of some more things as the year progresses, but for now, that’s pretty much all I want out of the next twelve months.
Was there anything good about 2008?
Oddly enough, in 2008 I managed to buy pretty much everything I wanted. From a new surround system to a netbook, I bought everything that my heat desired. The only major things I’d like to buy now are a Wii and a Freeview hard disc recorder, and I have little use for either until I leave home. The Wii because it's more fun with other people, and the Freeview recorder because I currently live in a digital TV blackspot and I can only pick up a bunch of BBC channels.Of course that just goes to show that the accumulation of possessions just doesn’t make me happy. Perhaps I should be grateful that it doesn’t. At least it shows that I’m not that shallow.
Last year I went away more frequently than in any other year. Dublin and the Norfolk broads were great, but Warsaw was awful and my time there set up my major depressive run. That said, I did learn from the experience, and I guess I found out a lot about myself. That it finally led to me seeking help for my depression can only be a good thing. That said, I’d rather not have been forced to endure the torment.
I’ve also had some good times with friends, but everything was marred by the cloud of depression that’s been hanging over me for the last twelve months. Things, I’m sure, will be better next year. I’ll make sure that they are.
Finally, I just wanted to thank everybody with whom I saw in the New Year. I had a great evening and I really appreciate being included. It’s nice to get 2009 off to such a good start. With any luck (not to mention a concerted effort from me) the rest of the year will be just as good.
I'd also like to wish a Happy New Year to everybody who reads my blog. Thanks for sticking with me. Hopefully I'll be able to keep you entertained througout 2009.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
End of Days
Well, this is bound to be my final post of 2008 and I for one am glad that the year is almost over. I’ve had some pretty shitty years of late, but this has been by far the worst. Crap job, crap holiday, depression, no job then boredom. Next year, I hope, is going to be a hell of a lot better.
I’m also hoping that, at some point during 2009, I might actually want a girlfriend. I’ve been single for quite some time now, and a few of my friends have asked me why. Or, as one friend put it “You’re nice bloke, you’re funny and you’re not hideously ugly, so why don’t you have a girlfriend?”In all truthfulness, I really haven’t wanted one. Initially, I just wanted to get other aspects of my life (career, better living arrangements) sorted out before I even went looking for a girlfriend. The problem is, I’ve taken so long getting nowhere with everything else and, subsequently, been single for so long, that I can’t see myself letting go of my independence (such as it is) and my individuality and become merely a constituent part of a couple. The thing is, I’m actually quite a solitary kind of person. As much as I enjoy being with other people, I’m sometimes glade of the fact that I can go back home and be on my own. Of course, I do feel lonely from time to time. Sometimes I long for something as simple as a hug, but for the most part, I’m okay by myself.
There are actually quite a lot of reasons why I should not even attempt to meet anyone right now.
The biggest reason is my depression. Until I can fully conquer that, I don’t feel like subjecting myself to anyone else. I simply can’t deal with unhappiness. I can’t deal with seeing the people I care for being upset. A fair few years ago, I went out with a girl who, in retrospect, it’s apparent also suffered from depression. Obviously that was a terrible combination.
Whenever she told me, in tears, about her problems and issues (and, given her rather traumatic past, those issues were myriad) all I could do was cry. Hopeless really. I couldn’t help myself though; it just upset me so much. I loved her dearly; I guess I just wasn’t the right guy at the right time. She broke up with me almost immediately after she returned from a three month trip to America. If only she’d done it before she left. Instead I was forced to, quite unnecessarily as it turns out, pine for her over the summer months. During that whole time, I didn’t look at anyone else. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for her. I often wonder whether, during those wasted months, I might have met someone else. Maybe the course of my life would have been completely changed?
Ideally I needed to be stronger. I’m just not there yet. Maybe when I am I’ll finally be in a position to seek out a girlfriend. Until then, I’ll remain alone.
I do actually have rather a lot of friends who have girlfriends that I can’t stand. One’s far too controlling. On my birthday she made damn sure my mate could drink no more than 4 pints of lager. I hate people who try to manipulate and control others. The other day she also threw a strop because my friend was unable to get her some brown bread. Apparently she wanted a couple of slices of toast for breakfast the next morning. The only place that sold it was too busy and buying it would have meant that he would be late to meet up with me and another friend. As it turned out, he was late anyway. I tried calling him on both his mobile and his home phone, but both were engaged. When I eventually bumped in to him, it turned out that he was on the phone to his girlfriend back home. By the looks of it she was unleashing upon him a torrent of abuse. The phone was pressed to his ear, but the expression o his face suggested that he wasn’t listening. I just couldn’t put up with that sort of behaviour. Honestly, why couldn’t the lazy, stroppy cow have got off her arse and bought it herself.
You’d think she must have some sort of redeeming characteristic, even if it’ merely superficial. After all, a lot of very attractive women don’t seem to bother developing a personality because the increasingly vacuous world at large lets them get by on looks alone. She is, most definitely, not one of these people. Frankly, she’s no looker. Facially, she’s fairly forgettable. As for her body, well I’m pretty sure she’s loaned it from one of the male attendees of a local primary school. She’s short, with a straight up and down figure; no curves whatsoever. I’m sorry to be so superficial, but I do think that, in order for a relationship to work, there must at least be some measure of physical attractiveness. I’d, be the last person to extol the virtues of puffed up, silicone enhanced glamour models. That, in no way conforms to my idea of beauty. But what does it say about you if your girlfriend has the outward appearance of a little boy?
I’ve developed a small distaste for one of my other friends girlfriend for a different reason altogether. Like the aforementioned girlfriend, her appearance is a bit of an issue. She’s not ugly, certainly; take a look at a photograph of her and you’ll be pleasantly surprised about how attractive she looks. When I say it’s her appearance that’s the problem I’m referring completely to the lack of it. I can only attest to how good looking she appears to be from pictures, because, for the entire time they’ve been going out, almost four years, none of my mates friends have actually met her.
Frankly, I think that’s appalling. To her credit though, she doesn’t seem to restrict my friend’s movements too much (though he did go into London for Saturday drinks a hell of a lot more before he met her. Okay, U-Turn approaching; she is a manipulative cow who can’t even sum up the decency to meet her boyfriend’s mates).
I’m being too hard of course. There are other mate’s girlfriends that I think are utterly brilliant and completely lovely. In actual fact, I'll be spending my New Years Eve with one such couple. Unfortunately, the good ones seem to be the exceptions that prove the rule.
I bring all this up because I have a horrid feeling that I might have upset one of my friends. This particular friend has just started online dating. This time, he seems to be having a great deal more luck. Apparently he’s in contact with quite a number of girls, and actually went out with one last night. After the date, he gave me a call to let me know how it went. Initially he seemed quite positive. Actually, right up until the end he seemed positive, but wasn't completely convinced.
During the course of our conversation he reeled of a list of her more deplorable attributes, most of which would have been deal breakers for me. Bunking off work (oh how I long to have an opportunity to pull a sicky. Even when I was terribly ill, I seldom called in sick), professing to hate the internet and computers. Also she lives alone in her own flat, but squanders her opportunity for total independence by relying on her mother to come round and clean her flat. She also takes her washing back home to be washed and ironed by her mother. Even if you ignore my ideological problem with parental dependency, surely it's way more hassle than just doing it yourself?
Obviously I'm going to address the point that irks me the most. How can you hate the internet? Let's put aside the very obvious paradox of her only being able to tell my friend how much she hates computers because they met through an ONLINE dating site. Without the internet and computers, much of modern life would be so different. How you hate something that gives you access to so much information and entertainment? I'll admit that, as with any medium for communication and transmission of information, 95% of the internet is total dross; a complete waste of time. However, surely it's got to be worth it for what remains. Remember, even if it is only 5% useful, that's still millions of terrabytes of worthwhile data.
Anyway, despite their differences, they talked, almost nonstop for 3hours, so I guess, at least on that level, as my friend was at pains to point out, it was a success. He said that he appreciated her honesty. To be frank, there’s a difference between honesty and shamelessness. I once worked (very briefly, I should add) with a guy who, on pretty much his first day of employment, admitted (or perhaps even boasted) that he had just finished a driving ban. He then went on to say that she had been banned for drink driving. I find that sort of thing deplorable. What kind of person wouldn’t hide such a despicable thing from someone they’ve just met?
He’ll be seeing her again apparently, but I can't help but feel that I dulled his enthusiasm for her with my negativity. If that's the case, then I'm sorry. It is, after all, up to him. Besides, who am I to condemn someone I haven't even met. All I have to go on is what he said about her. Maybe that's the point. Maybe I'm just interpreting his own viewpoint for him. Maybe I'm getting it all wrong.
Anyway, as I write I'm fiddling about with my laptop. See, life can be exciting and fulfilling without someone.
I’m also hoping that, at some point during 2009, I might actually want a girlfriend. I’ve been single for quite some time now, and a few of my friends have asked me why. Or, as one friend put it “You’re nice bloke, you’re funny and you’re not hideously ugly, so why don’t you have a girlfriend?”In all truthfulness, I really haven’t wanted one. Initially, I just wanted to get other aspects of my life (career, better living arrangements) sorted out before I even went looking for a girlfriend. The problem is, I’ve taken so long getting nowhere with everything else and, subsequently, been single for so long, that I can’t see myself letting go of my independence (such as it is) and my individuality and become merely a constituent part of a couple. The thing is, I’m actually quite a solitary kind of person. As much as I enjoy being with other people, I’m sometimes glade of the fact that I can go back home and be on my own. Of course, I do feel lonely from time to time. Sometimes I long for something as simple as a hug, but for the most part, I’m okay by myself.
There are actually quite a lot of reasons why I should not even attempt to meet anyone right now.
The biggest reason is my depression. Until I can fully conquer that, I don’t feel like subjecting myself to anyone else. I simply can’t deal with unhappiness. I can’t deal with seeing the people I care for being upset. A fair few years ago, I went out with a girl who, in retrospect, it’s apparent also suffered from depression. Obviously that was a terrible combination.
Whenever she told me, in tears, about her problems and issues (and, given her rather traumatic past, those issues were myriad) all I could do was cry. Hopeless really. I couldn’t help myself though; it just upset me so much. I loved her dearly; I guess I just wasn’t the right guy at the right time. She broke up with me almost immediately after she returned from a three month trip to America. If only she’d done it before she left. Instead I was forced to, quite unnecessarily as it turns out, pine for her over the summer months. During that whole time, I didn’t look at anyone else. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for her. I often wonder whether, during those wasted months, I might have met someone else. Maybe the course of my life would have been completely changed?
Ideally I needed to be stronger. I’m just not there yet. Maybe when I am I’ll finally be in a position to seek out a girlfriend. Until then, I’ll remain alone.
I do actually have rather a lot of friends who have girlfriends that I can’t stand. One’s far too controlling. On my birthday she made damn sure my mate could drink no more than 4 pints of lager. I hate people who try to manipulate and control others. The other day she also threw a strop because my friend was unable to get her some brown bread. Apparently she wanted a couple of slices of toast for breakfast the next morning. The only place that sold it was too busy and buying it would have meant that he would be late to meet up with me and another friend. As it turned out, he was late anyway. I tried calling him on both his mobile and his home phone, but both were engaged. When I eventually bumped in to him, it turned out that he was on the phone to his girlfriend back home. By the looks of it she was unleashing upon him a torrent of abuse. The phone was pressed to his ear, but the expression o his face suggested that he wasn’t listening. I just couldn’t put up with that sort of behaviour. Honestly, why couldn’t the lazy, stroppy cow have got off her arse and bought it herself.
You’d think she must have some sort of redeeming characteristic, even if it’ merely superficial. After all, a lot of very attractive women don’t seem to bother developing a personality because the increasingly vacuous world at large lets them get by on looks alone. She is, most definitely, not one of these people. Frankly, she’s no looker. Facially, she’s fairly forgettable. As for her body, well I’m pretty sure she’s loaned it from one of the male attendees of a local primary school. She’s short, with a straight up and down figure; no curves whatsoever. I’m sorry to be so superficial, but I do think that, in order for a relationship to work, there must at least be some measure of physical attractiveness. I’d, be the last person to extol the virtues of puffed up, silicone enhanced glamour models. That, in no way conforms to my idea of beauty. But what does it say about you if your girlfriend has the outward appearance of a little boy?
I’ve developed a small distaste for one of my other friends girlfriend for a different reason altogether. Like the aforementioned girlfriend, her appearance is a bit of an issue. She’s not ugly, certainly; take a look at a photograph of her and you’ll be pleasantly surprised about how attractive she looks. When I say it’s her appearance that’s the problem I’m referring completely to the lack of it. I can only attest to how good looking she appears to be from pictures, because, for the entire time they’ve been going out, almost four years, none of my mates friends have actually met her.
Frankly, I think that’s appalling. To her credit though, she doesn’t seem to restrict my friend’s movements too much (though he did go into London for Saturday drinks a hell of a lot more before he met her. Okay, U-Turn approaching; she is a manipulative cow who can’t even sum up the decency to meet her boyfriend’s mates).
I’m being too hard of course. There are other mate’s girlfriends that I think are utterly brilliant and completely lovely. In actual fact, I'll be spending my New Years Eve with one such couple. Unfortunately, the good ones seem to be the exceptions that prove the rule.
I bring all this up because I have a horrid feeling that I might have upset one of my friends. This particular friend has just started online dating. This time, he seems to be having a great deal more luck. Apparently he’s in contact with quite a number of girls, and actually went out with one last night. After the date, he gave me a call to let me know how it went. Initially he seemed quite positive. Actually, right up until the end he seemed positive, but wasn't completely convinced.
During the course of our conversation he reeled of a list of her more deplorable attributes, most of which would have been deal breakers for me. Bunking off work (oh how I long to have an opportunity to pull a sicky. Even when I was terribly ill, I seldom called in sick), professing to hate the internet and computers. Also she lives alone in her own flat, but squanders her opportunity for total independence by relying on her mother to come round and clean her flat. She also takes her washing back home to be washed and ironed by her mother. Even if you ignore my ideological problem with parental dependency, surely it's way more hassle than just doing it yourself?
Obviously I'm going to address the point that irks me the most. How can you hate the internet? Let's put aside the very obvious paradox of her only being able to tell my friend how much she hates computers because they met through an ONLINE dating site. Without the internet and computers, much of modern life would be so different. How you hate something that gives you access to so much information and entertainment? I'll admit that, as with any medium for communication and transmission of information, 95% of the internet is total dross; a complete waste of time. However, surely it's got to be worth it for what remains. Remember, even if it is only 5% useful, that's still millions of terrabytes of worthwhile data.
Anyway, despite their differences, they talked, almost nonstop for 3hours, so I guess, at least on that level, as my friend was at pains to point out, it was a success. He said that he appreciated her honesty. To be frank, there’s a difference between honesty and shamelessness. I once worked (very briefly, I should add) with a guy who, on pretty much his first day of employment, admitted (or perhaps even boasted) that he had just finished a driving ban. He then went on to say that she had been banned for drink driving. I find that sort of thing deplorable. What kind of person wouldn’t hide such a despicable thing from someone they’ve just met?
He’ll be seeing her again apparently, but I can't help but feel that I dulled his enthusiasm for her with my negativity. If that's the case, then I'm sorry. It is, after all, up to him. Besides, who am I to condemn someone I haven't even met. All I have to go on is what he said about her. Maybe that's the point. Maybe I'm just interpreting his own viewpoint for him. Maybe I'm getting it all wrong.
Anyway, as I write I'm fiddling about with my laptop. See, life can be exciting and fulfilling without someone.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Why can't we all just get along?
I got a wedding invite today. It served to show what a pedant I am. In life I hate uncertainty. I can’t gamble because of it. There may be a 99.9% chance that one thing will happen, but to my mind that doesn’t constitute a guarantee. I devote my time to contemplating the outcome of the 0.01% probability.
Ambiguity is fine in the right place. After all, art is supposed to be open to interpretation. Uncertainty, however, has no place in anything instructional, and a wedding invite certainly falls into that category. I spent ages trying to work out whether I’d been invited to the whole day or just the evening. It just wasn’t at all clear. I thought I was invited to everything, but I wasn’t 100% sure. It was only after conferring with other invitees that I finally reached a conclusion.
I’m actually rather fortunate to be suffering from the effects of anxiety at the moment. I suspect that the accompanying tightening of my throat is the only thing protecting my body from all the itinerant germs that are spreading throughout the house.
I haven’t suffered from anxiety for some months now. It’s odd that as soon as I decide not to be depressed and take action to address that issue, I start to suffer from the opposite problem. I suspect I’m feeling anxious about the difficulties that lie ahead. With depression, there is no progression, no future, only the pain of the present. With anxiety there is worry and fear about what may or may not come. Anxiety is panic of living, depression comforting embrace of death.
I started looking for a new job today, but there’s little about. I’ve maintained for a while that there is, in a lot of job advertisements, a number of subtle, almost clandestine hints that people who are not of ethnic minorities will have less chance of getting the job. At least that’s how I’d interpret the statement “We are particularly interested in applicant form ethnic minorities.”
Whether there is any actual discrimination going on (The term “positive discrimination” is, after all, an oxymoron. The job should go to whomever is most suited regardless of skin colour, sexuality or whatever) is, of course debatable. My point of view could just be a result of my own insecurities. It’s just my interpretation of a carelessly ambiguous statement. I am after all, a depressive, and I’m bound to think that the world is against me. I’m so frequently at odds with it I seldom see things any other way.
However, with the advert I stumbled upon last night, there was no room for interpretation. The advert was for a position at a company specialising in routing low cost calls to Poland. Now, I’ll leave the debate about European Union expansion into Eastern Europe for another time. All I will say is that there is clearly a market for the product that this company is peddling. What I am going to take issue with is the wording of the advert. Companies are, by law, forbidden from discriminating for any number of reasons (race, sexuality, disability) when it comes to recruiting for jobs. Apparently this company either don’t know of this law, or they simply don’t care. This advert demanded that any applicant for the position had to be Polish. This, I should add, is for a position at a company based in England. I could understand if the add said that any applicants had to be fluent Polish speakers; linguistic talents can, after all be attained, they are not proscribed by birth. But that wasn’t what this company said. How on earth can they get away with this?
I strongly believe that if decide to live in a different country you should embrace the native culture and values. This doesn’t mean giving up your own beliefs; that would be wrong as well as terribly boring. From my perspective, if I were to move to another country I'd make damn sure that I tried to learn their language and respect their traditions. I'd want to learn as much about their ways as I possibly could to prevent myself from unwittingly causing offence.Perhaps that's just me though. I do hold a great deal of stock in politeness, showing respect and behaving properly. As they say, "When in Rome."
As a child I remember lamenting my lack of diverse heritage. I distinctly remember being a little upset by my boring ancestry. Other cultures seemed so much more interesting by comparison. Their way’s fascinated me. Let's face it, Britain would be a more boring place without it’s many diverse cultures. However, it seems to me that things work best when other cultures become integrated in the main. They retain their unique identities whilst becoming a part of society as a whole. Problems arise when sections of the population segregate themselves from everyone else, bringing about a “them and us” mentality. If people don’t understand each other then there is little chance they’ll get along. For some reason, people become violently opposed to that which they believe to be different. I suppose there must be something tribal about our nature. We pin our colours to one team and support them above all others. We despise those whose loyalties lie elsewhere. We actively seek out those that are different so that we might have somebody to oppose, somebody to hate. However, if people of different backgrounds are given the chance to mix with one another they’ll realise that we’re far more alike than they may have first thought. If only we all understood each other a little better.
The point is, people should have a modicum of respect for the ways of their adoptive home and try to integrate themselves in to it. Prohibiting the indigenous inhabitants from taking a job with your country is hardly going to help promote understanding. More likely it will just incite hatred and resentment.
Poles already appear to have an image problem as far as a great number of British people are concerned. This sort of thing will only make it worse even amongst the more moderate or right minded members of the populace. After all, if somebody discriminates against you, it’s a hell of a lot easier to hate them right back.And remember, that cuts both ways.
Ambiguity is fine in the right place. After all, art is supposed to be open to interpretation. Uncertainty, however, has no place in anything instructional, and a wedding invite certainly falls into that category. I spent ages trying to work out whether I’d been invited to the whole day or just the evening. It just wasn’t at all clear. I thought I was invited to everything, but I wasn’t 100% sure. It was only after conferring with other invitees that I finally reached a conclusion.
I’m actually rather fortunate to be suffering from the effects of anxiety at the moment. I suspect that the accompanying tightening of my throat is the only thing protecting my body from all the itinerant germs that are spreading throughout the house.
I haven’t suffered from anxiety for some months now. It’s odd that as soon as I decide not to be depressed and take action to address that issue, I start to suffer from the opposite problem. I suspect I’m feeling anxious about the difficulties that lie ahead. With depression, there is no progression, no future, only the pain of the present. With anxiety there is worry and fear about what may or may not come. Anxiety is panic of living, depression comforting embrace of death.
I started looking for a new job today, but there’s little about. I’ve maintained for a while that there is, in a lot of job advertisements, a number of subtle, almost clandestine hints that people who are not of ethnic minorities will have less chance of getting the job. At least that’s how I’d interpret the statement “We are particularly interested in applicant form ethnic minorities.”
Whether there is any actual discrimination going on (The term “positive discrimination” is, after all, an oxymoron. The job should go to whomever is most suited regardless of skin colour, sexuality or whatever) is, of course debatable. My point of view could just be a result of my own insecurities. It’s just my interpretation of a carelessly ambiguous statement. I am after all, a depressive, and I’m bound to think that the world is against me. I’m so frequently at odds with it I seldom see things any other way.
However, with the advert I stumbled upon last night, there was no room for interpretation. The advert was for a position at a company specialising in routing low cost calls to Poland. Now, I’ll leave the debate about European Union expansion into Eastern Europe for another time. All I will say is that there is clearly a market for the product that this company is peddling. What I am going to take issue with is the wording of the advert. Companies are, by law, forbidden from discriminating for any number of reasons (race, sexuality, disability) when it comes to recruiting for jobs. Apparently this company either don’t know of this law, or they simply don’t care. This advert demanded that any applicant for the position had to be Polish. This, I should add, is for a position at a company based in England. I could understand if the add said that any applicants had to be fluent Polish speakers; linguistic talents can, after all be attained, they are not proscribed by birth. But that wasn’t what this company said. How on earth can they get away with this?
I strongly believe that if decide to live in a different country you should embrace the native culture and values. This doesn’t mean giving up your own beliefs; that would be wrong as well as terribly boring. From my perspective, if I were to move to another country I'd make damn sure that I tried to learn their language and respect their traditions. I'd want to learn as much about their ways as I possibly could to prevent myself from unwittingly causing offence.Perhaps that's just me though. I do hold a great deal of stock in politeness, showing respect and behaving properly. As they say, "When in Rome."
As a child I remember lamenting my lack of diverse heritage. I distinctly remember being a little upset by my boring ancestry. Other cultures seemed so much more interesting by comparison. Their way’s fascinated me. Let's face it, Britain would be a more boring place without it’s many diverse cultures. However, it seems to me that things work best when other cultures become integrated in the main. They retain their unique identities whilst becoming a part of society as a whole. Problems arise when sections of the population segregate themselves from everyone else, bringing about a “them and us” mentality. If people don’t understand each other then there is little chance they’ll get along. For some reason, people become violently opposed to that which they believe to be different. I suppose there must be something tribal about our nature. We pin our colours to one team and support them above all others. We despise those whose loyalties lie elsewhere. We actively seek out those that are different so that we might have somebody to oppose, somebody to hate. However, if people of different backgrounds are given the chance to mix with one another they’ll realise that we’re far more alike than they may have first thought. If only we all understood each other a little better.
The point is, people should have a modicum of respect for the ways of their adoptive home and try to integrate themselves in to it. Prohibiting the indigenous inhabitants from taking a job with your country is hardly going to help promote understanding. More likely it will just incite hatred and resentment.
Poles already appear to have an image problem as far as a great number of British people are concerned. This sort of thing will only make it worse even amongst the more moderate or right minded members of the populace. After all, if somebody discriminates against you, it’s a hell of a lot easier to hate them right back.And remember, that cuts both ways.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Hang on a minute lads, I’ve got a great idea.
That's it. Enough of this moroseness. These are the things I resolve to do.
Write more. It always makes me feel better, even if I'm just blogging. I do, however, need to write with more purpose. Perhaps I should actually get round to writing a film, a novel, or even a short story. I could even write up a few reviews or work on some of the article ideas I've had recently.
Exercise more. I need to lose weight and get fit. Besides, exercise releases endorphins and endorphins make you happy. Happiness combats depression. Depression stops me from doing things. Actually, it's a bit of a no-brainer really. The only difficulty is getting started on a routine that I can actually stick to.
Get out the house more. If I walk to wherever I’m going I can get exercise. If I take my laptop to wherever I’m going can write. This will kill two birds with one stone. Of course, this one is easier said than done. After all, it is very cold outside this time of year.
Less video games. I don’t actually play that often, but I tend to get upset when I lose. Unfortunately, since around 90% of all Halo 3 players are way better than me, I tend to lose a lot.
And finally, less depression. I’m going to try to think positively. Logically I know that I have a lot going for me, but self-doubt always creeps in, crippling me. I need to modify the way I think. Clearly, given the ineptitude and unwillingness of the NHS to provide me with the professional help that would greatly benefit me, I’m going to have to figure things out for myself.
That’s it. If I can do those things I can set myself up to get to where I want to be.
I want…
A new job that I can be proud of. I want to gladly tell people what I do, not hide it out of embarrassment.
Move out. Being at home is not good for me. A more positive environment will help me to achieve more.
Maybe meet someone. We’ll see about this. I’m still hoping that serendipity will take care of this one. Contrived and proactive measures like online dating clearly aren’t for me. I might, however, consider speed dating, though only after I have some sort of job (and it doesn’t have to be my dream job, just enough to give me a modicum of self esteem).
This time I have to do it. I have to actually take positive steps towards where I want to be. Staying here, where I am now, simply isn't an option.
And now, with all that decided, it's time for bed.
Write more. It always makes me feel better, even if I'm just blogging. I do, however, need to write with more purpose. Perhaps I should actually get round to writing a film, a novel, or even a short story. I could even write up a few reviews or work on some of the article ideas I've had recently.
Exercise more. I need to lose weight and get fit. Besides, exercise releases endorphins and endorphins make you happy. Happiness combats depression. Depression stops me from doing things. Actually, it's a bit of a no-brainer really. The only difficulty is getting started on a routine that I can actually stick to.
Get out the house more. If I walk to wherever I’m going I can get exercise. If I take my laptop to wherever I’m going can write. This will kill two birds with one stone. Of course, this one is easier said than done. After all, it is very cold outside this time of year.
Less video games. I don’t actually play that often, but I tend to get upset when I lose. Unfortunately, since around 90% of all Halo 3 players are way better than me, I tend to lose a lot.
And finally, less depression. I’m going to try to think positively. Logically I know that I have a lot going for me, but self-doubt always creeps in, crippling me. I need to modify the way I think. Clearly, given the ineptitude and unwillingness of the NHS to provide me with the professional help that would greatly benefit me, I’m going to have to figure things out for myself.
That’s it. If I can do those things I can set myself up to get to where I want to be.
I want…
A new job that I can be proud of. I want to gladly tell people what I do, not hide it out of embarrassment.
Move out. Being at home is not good for me. A more positive environment will help me to achieve more.
Maybe meet someone. We’ll see about this. I’m still hoping that serendipity will take care of this one. Contrived and proactive measures like online dating clearly aren’t for me. I might, however, consider speed dating, though only after I have some sort of job (and it doesn’t have to be my dream job, just enough to give me a modicum of self esteem).
This time I have to do it. I have to actually take positive steps towards where I want to be. Staying here, where I am now, simply isn't an option.
And now, with all that decided, it's time for bed.
Incoherent and Inconsolable
It’s not really been a very good week for me. It’s not like anything particularly bad has happened; I’ve just been completely out of sorts.
Aside from Tuesday, where I spent much of the afternoon fixing a friends computer, I did very little throughout the week, save for catching up on TV. Whilst, in the first few weeks after I left my job, I felt a hell of a lot better, of late my mood has started to decline rapidly. My sense of self worth is now practically non-existent, I’ve had suicidal thoughts (though I still don’t think I’d actually do it) and I’ve even considered self-harm. After all, I feel like I deserve it. I’d been thinking about an “It’s a wonderful life” style scenario where I never existed. However, unlike Jimmy Stewart’s character, I suspect that my non-existence would have had very little impact on everybody. In fact, I have a horrid feeling that people would have been better off.
Regardless, I have been doing some slightly more productive self-analysis and I’m pretty sure I know why my life is so crappy. I think that I revel in my misery and, when presented with the opportunity to mess things up, I’ll take it. I basically need protection from myself. Without some sort of encouragement to take the right path, I’ll always take the route that will give me the most trouble.
I have wondered, in the past I feel that, sometimes, people in my life that I rely upon have deliberately steered me into harms way, whilst others have stood by and watched the catastrophe ensue. Am I just a plaything? Wind me up and watch the chaos ensue.
I feel like I’m just a joke to some people. A figure of fun. Sub-human and unworthy of any real respect.
I’m lucky, I do have some extraordinarily good friends and for that I am eternally grateful. Unfortunately they can’t be there all the time; they have their own concerns and their own issues to deal with. To be honest, though, I wouldn’t ask for help. It’s not really my way. I wonder whether, deep down, I feel like I can only rely on myself. Actually, I doubt that. I think I don’t ask for help because I don’t think I’m worth saving. I hope that those who have offered me a kind ear do not think worse of themselves because I have not spoken to them. It’s not you, not at all. It’s me. I just won’t ask anyone.
I should add that I am writing some of this post after having literally no sleep last night. I’m a little concerned that, of late, things seem to be playing on my mind so much, and it only takes a relatively minor concern to keep me up. Actually, the other part of it is not actually wanting to go to sleep. I stayed up and watched shows on the BBC iPlayer. Having the ability to catch up on so much TV is fantastic. Unfortunately, last night, it proved to be so addictive that I didn’t want to sleep. I was tired, I just couldn’t bring myself to rest my head on the pillow and let nature take it’s course.
I sometimes just want to be on my own. Other times I feel lonely. Often I feel like I just need to feel what it’s like to be in close physical contact with another human being. Sometimes I just need a hug or some sort of physical sign that I am not unloved.
I hate some much about myself. I look at how badly time has affected me. I’m fat, balding and hideous looking. A friend saw a photograph of me from 10 years ago and said I looked so different. So different and, although he didn’t say it, so much worse. Because I do look so much worse. I keep telling myself that I’ll feel like I can possibly seek out a girlfriend once I get myself in better shape. Unfortunately, the exercise only lasts so long. After all, when I do it, it seems to have no impact whatsoever. I tell myself I’ll eat more healthily, buy really, what’s the point. Even if I do manage to miraculously transform my physical appearance, I’ll probably still feel the same. Besides, I’m a depressive with no job who lives at home with his Mum. What woman would even consider me to be a prospect.
Is any of that going to change? I’ve had jobs, but they’ve all made me miserable. None of them have paid enough to allow me to leave home. Is any of that going to change?
Home is awful. When I’m left alone I can just about cope with things, but that so rarely happens. Most of the time I’m subjected to a torrent of abuse, all of which reinforces my negative self-image. I think I’m worthless and so does everybody who’s around me for much of the day.
Whatever I do to help at home is never enough. There’s always some thing I’ve done wrong, or maybe even forgotten to do at all. I never get anything right. My family see me as being distinctly second-class. They’ll help each other, but whenever I need anything they’ll typically turn their backs.
I try to be good, but ultimately I don’t think I am. I’m just not a nice person. I’m not as good as I want to be. My grasp exceeded my reach, and it does so by quite some margin.
All of my friends are moving so far away from me. They almost all have a career, a partner, a home or maybe even all three. I wouldn’t wish that they didn’t have these things, but as their priorities change I can see them fade into the distance. One day they’ll be so far ahead of me that I won’t be able to reach them. Let’s face it; I have no real prospect of ever catching them up. I’ve tried, but I seem to fall at every hurdle. Things will just work out so much better for them that they will for me. I’m glad of that at least. I couldn’t stand them to suffer as I have. They deserve good things. Maybe I don’t.
I have to stop myself from reaching for the sharpest implement I can find and using it to carve into my flesh. I don’t know why exactly. Maybe I just need to feel some pain that’s real, and not just in my head. Something for show and tell. I hear that self harm releases endorphins. Maybe that’s why I want to do it. It’d certainly be better for my health than chocolate.
Every year, I used to wonder if the next will be any better. It never is. This one has been worse than many. I no longer wonder whether next year will be a good one. I know that it won’t.
I don’t know whether any of this has made sense. As much as I have enjoyed writing, deep down I know I’ll never make a career of it. I’m just not good enough. And even if I was, I just can’t seem to see the way forward. I can do a lot of things, but all of them only to a mediocre standard. I’m simply not good enough at any one thing to be able to make a career of it.
Aside from Tuesday, where I spent much of the afternoon fixing a friends computer, I did very little throughout the week, save for catching up on TV. Whilst, in the first few weeks after I left my job, I felt a hell of a lot better, of late my mood has started to decline rapidly. My sense of self worth is now practically non-existent, I’ve had suicidal thoughts (though I still don’t think I’d actually do it) and I’ve even considered self-harm. After all, I feel like I deserve it. I’d been thinking about an “It’s a wonderful life” style scenario where I never existed. However, unlike Jimmy Stewart’s character, I suspect that my non-existence would have had very little impact on everybody. In fact, I have a horrid feeling that people would have been better off.
Regardless, I have been doing some slightly more productive self-analysis and I’m pretty sure I know why my life is so crappy. I think that I revel in my misery and, when presented with the opportunity to mess things up, I’ll take it. I basically need protection from myself. Without some sort of encouragement to take the right path, I’ll always take the route that will give me the most trouble.
I have wondered, in the past I feel that, sometimes, people in my life that I rely upon have deliberately steered me into harms way, whilst others have stood by and watched the catastrophe ensue. Am I just a plaything? Wind me up and watch the chaos ensue.
I feel like I’m just a joke to some people. A figure of fun. Sub-human and unworthy of any real respect.
I’m lucky, I do have some extraordinarily good friends and for that I am eternally grateful. Unfortunately they can’t be there all the time; they have their own concerns and their own issues to deal with. To be honest, though, I wouldn’t ask for help. It’s not really my way. I wonder whether, deep down, I feel like I can only rely on myself. Actually, I doubt that. I think I don’t ask for help because I don’t think I’m worth saving. I hope that those who have offered me a kind ear do not think worse of themselves because I have not spoken to them. It’s not you, not at all. It’s me. I just won’t ask anyone.
I should add that I am writing some of this post after having literally no sleep last night. I’m a little concerned that, of late, things seem to be playing on my mind so much, and it only takes a relatively minor concern to keep me up. Actually, the other part of it is not actually wanting to go to sleep. I stayed up and watched shows on the BBC iPlayer. Having the ability to catch up on so much TV is fantastic. Unfortunately, last night, it proved to be so addictive that I didn’t want to sleep. I was tired, I just couldn’t bring myself to rest my head on the pillow and let nature take it’s course.
I sometimes just want to be on my own. Other times I feel lonely. Often I feel like I just need to feel what it’s like to be in close physical contact with another human being. Sometimes I just need a hug or some sort of physical sign that I am not unloved.
I hate some much about myself. I look at how badly time has affected me. I’m fat, balding and hideous looking. A friend saw a photograph of me from 10 years ago and said I looked so different. So different and, although he didn’t say it, so much worse. Because I do look so much worse. I keep telling myself that I’ll feel like I can possibly seek out a girlfriend once I get myself in better shape. Unfortunately, the exercise only lasts so long. After all, when I do it, it seems to have no impact whatsoever. I tell myself I’ll eat more healthily, buy really, what’s the point. Even if I do manage to miraculously transform my physical appearance, I’ll probably still feel the same. Besides, I’m a depressive with no job who lives at home with his Mum. What woman would even consider me to be a prospect.
Is any of that going to change? I’ve had jobs, but they’ve all made me miserable. None of them have paid enough to allow me to leave home. Is any of that going to change?
Home is awful. When I’m left alone I can just about cope with things, but that so rarely happens. Most of the time I’m subjected to a torrent of abuse, all of which reinforces my negative self-image. I think I’m worthless and so does everybody who’s around me for much of the day.
Whatever I do to help at home is never enough. There’s always some thing I’ve done wrong, or maybe even forgotten to do at all. I never get anything right. My family see me as being distinctly second-class. They’ll help each other, but whenever I need anything they’ll typically turn their backs.
I try to be good, but ultimately I don’t think I am. I’m just not a nice person. I’m not as good as I want to be. My grasp exceeded my reach, and it does so by quite some margin.
All of my friends are moving so far away from me. They almost all have a career, a partner, a home or maybe even all three. I wouldn’t wish that they didn’t have these things, but as their priorities change I can see them fade into the distance. One day they’ll be so far ahead of me that I won’t be able to reach them. Let’s face it; I have no real prospect of ever catching them up. I’ve tried, but I seem to fall at every hurdle. Things will just work out so much better for them that they will for me. I’m glad of that at least. I couldn’t stand them to suffer as I have. They deserve good things. Maybe I don’t.
I have to stop myself from reaching for the sharpest implement I can find and using it to carve into my flesh. I don’t know why exactly. Maybe I just need to feel some pain that’s real, and not just in my head. Something for show and tell. I hear that self harm releases endorphins. Maybe that’s why I want to do it. It’d certainly be better for my health than chocolate.
Every year, I used to wonder if the next will be any better. It never is. This one has been worse than many. I no longer wonder whether next year will be a good one. I know that it won’t.
I don’t know whether any of this has made sense. As much as I have enjoyed writing, deep down I know I’ll never make a career of it. I’m just not good enough. And even if I was, I just can’t seem to see the way forward. I can do a lot of things, but all of them only to a mediocre standard. I’m simply not good enough at any one thing to be able to make a career of it.
Friday, December 19, 2008
They fuck you up…
I’ll tell you about my Dad. I’ll start by saying he wasn’t perfect; nobody is, of course, but he did help me a lot. Looking back, I can tell that he was, at least a little bit, aware of my depressive tendencies. I distinctly remember him trying to help me to deal with stress.
The problem is, I became too reliant on him as a crutch. I did nothing for myself. I still wasn’t doing anything for my own gratification; I did everything to please him.
He’d push me to do better, and without it, I doubt I’d have made it as far as university. I know my sister never really needed that sort of encouragement. Perhaps she feels left out, less loved because of it. But the point is, she didn’t need the attention. She might have wanted it; she might have felt that she’d missed out by not getting the same as I did, but, she wasn’t unloved, I’m sure of that. She just didn’t need as much care as me. She didn’t need as much guidance.
I don’t suppose it helped that he actively dissuaded me from trying to become a writer. Maybe that’s the reason I’m so reluctant. I know he wouldn’t want that. I can’t seem to escape his expectations, even though he’s been dead for a little over twelve years.
With him gone I had no reason to excel. So I didn’t. And I haven’t. I know he’d be terribly disappointed with me and that makes me feel so much worse.
I’d also say he’s responsible for some of my failings with women, especially early on, before he died. I have to be honest, I hadn’t even kissed a girl before went to university, just two weeks after my Father’s death. Before that, every time I betrayed an interest in the opposite sex or it was suggested that I might fancy a girl, my dad would tease me mercilessly. For someone of my disposition this was more than enough to discourage me from seeking out a girlfriend altogether. This is, of course, one of the reasons why, despite his efforts, I know that my Dad didn’t fully understand me.
I’m still, on occasion, a little shy when it comes to women. If I’m not in one of my more gregarious mood, I sometimes become unable to think of a single thing to say. A girl I liked from my previous work place once said that she thought I tried to hard. She’s right of course; when I put no effort in to it, when I don’t force it, everything comes very easily. Another girl even once said that I was charming. Again, I wasn’t trying then. Of course as soon as I realised that I was in the game, I defaulted to my usual tongue-tied self.
Ultimately, my problem is me. I often go for girls beyond my reach (wanting the things that I can’t have seems to be something of a theme for me). They’re always the ones who are unavailable, either because of some deep ceded psychological problem, or because they’re already attached. Either way, though, they’re unattainable. Of course then, with being no prospect that we would ever be together I have to simply rely on imagination and dream of what might be. Fantasy is, after all, so much more compelling than reality.
I wonder, if I desired that which I could actually have, I’d have be forced to deal with change. I’d be forced to deal with the possibility of happiness. I’m not scared by the prospect of being turned down by a girl, just by the idea that she might accept me.
I can’t really explain to my Mum how my depression makes me feel. Every time I touch upon the subject she’ll say something that makes me wish that I’d never brought it up. When I recently mentioned how badly I felt her response was to berate me. She said, “You’re making me worry about you and that’s going to make e mil. You don’t want me to get ill again do you?” Of course not, but that’s hardly a constructive thing to say is it? She seems to have a unique misunderstanding of me. She subjects me to all the negative things that a depressive should be spared. I’m growing fat on negativity (figuratively and literally), and she’s the one who’s doing most of the feeding.
Without a doubt, every day I spend in her presence makes me worse. I try my best to get by in this house, causing as little argument and conflict as possible. She complains that I don’t empty the rubbish; I do it every night now. Of course today, she filled up the bin during the course of one afternoon, before I’d even used it, and complained, once more, that she has to do everything. Why, she asked, can’t I just empty the bin. After all, I only empty it every evening. Of course, that’s not good enough. My mum has always been like this. Always moaning at me, always criticising me. Always interrupting me when I’m in the middle of something. I can’t concentrate when she’s in the house. When I wake, suddenly in the night, I often think I’ve heard her shriek my name (could I not be called something less screamable. Something with more than one syllable and no high pitched ending). Whatever I do to placate her, she always finds something else to moan about. There really is no reason why I should bother to put in any effort at all. However much I do, she always finds my efforts wanting in some way.
I wonder; is she like the cat that sits on the lap of the person who has a distaste or phobia of felines?
You seek attention from those who deny it from you. Is this the same? Is this her way of getting my attention? She complains so much that I don’t sit with her on evenings when I’m at home, preferring the solitude of my room. Of course when I do keep her company I’m subjected to abuse and criticism. It’s no wonder I stay in my room. She seems not to have grasped this simple concept.
I don’t feel welcome. She keeps threatening to throw me out. I know she doesn’t mean it, but I can’t help but feel insecure.
Ultimately, I know I’m a disappointment to my Dad. Worse, perhaps, I’m a disappointment to myself. I had such a brilliant idea of how my life would be by this age, but it just hasn’t happened. As much as I can attribute the blame to others, I know that I am, in the end, the one who is responsible for this shambolic existence of mine.
I’m going to try to get out more as soon as I can. I haven’t felt like leaving the house recently. When I have endured the outside would I’ve felt extremely uncomfortable. Hopefully I’ll be out tomorrow. Out with friends for drinks. With any luck I’ll be able to keep up a façade of happiness long enough for nobody to realise that I’m hiding my sadness behind a mask. Of course, pretend long enough and it ceases to be an act. It’s much easier to be happy when you’re actually having fun.
I’ll be back with my normal posting soon. Hopefully. By the way, this is often how I've felt when I've stopped writing in the past. Perhaps it will help if I write through it.
The problem is, I became too reliant on him as a crutch. I did nothing for myself. I still wasn’t doing anything for my own gratification; I did everything to please him.
He’d push me to do better, and without it, I doubt I’d have made it as far as university. I know my sister never really needed that sort of encouragement. Perhaps she feels left out, less loved because of it. But the point is, she didn’t need the attention. She might have wanted it; she might have felt that she’d missed out by not getting the same as I did, but, she wasn’t unloved, I’m sure of that. She just didn’t need as much care as me. She didn’t need as much guidance.
I don’t suppose it helped that he actively dissuaded me from trying to become a writer. Maybe that’s the reason I’m so reluctant. I know he wouldn’t want that. I can’t seem to escape his expectations, even though he’s been dead for a little over twelve years.
With him gone I had no reason to excel. So I didn’t. And I haven’t. I know he’d be terribly disappointed with me and that makes me feel so much worse.
I’d also say he’s responsible for some of my failings with women, especially early on, before he died. I have to be honest, I hadn’t even kissed a girl before went to university, just two weeks after my Father’s death. Before that, every time I betrayed an interest in the opposite sex or it was suggested that I might fancy a girl, my dad would tease me mercilessly. For someone of my disposition this was more than enough to discourage me from seeking out a girlfriend altogether. This is, of course, one of the reasons why, despite his efforts, I know that my Dad didn’t fully understand me.
I’m still, on occasion, a little shy when it comes to women. If I’m not in one of my more gregarious mood, I sometimes become unable to think of a single thing to say. A girl I liked from my previous work place once said that she thought I tried to hard. She’s right of course; when I put no effort in to it, when I don’t force it, everything comes very easily. Another girl even once said that I was charming. Again, I wasn’t trying then. Of course as soon as I realised that I was in the game, I defaulted to my usual tongue-tied self.
Ultimately, my problem is me. I often go for girls beyond my reach (wanting the things that I can’t have seems to be something of a theme for me). They’re always the ones who are unavailable, either because of some deep ceded psychological problem, or because they’re already attached. Either way, though, they’re unattainable. Of course then, with being no prospect that we would ever be together I have to simply rely on imagination and dream of what might be. Fantasy is, after all, so much more compelling than reality.
I wonder, if I desired that which I could actually have, I’d have be forced to deal with change. I’d be forced to deal with the possibility of happiness. I’m not scared by the prospect of being turned down by a girl, just by the idea that she might accept me.
I can’t really explain to my Mum how my depression makes me feel. Every time I touch upon the subject she’ll say something that makes me wish that I’d never brought it up. When I recently mentioned how badly I felt her response was to berate me. She said, “You’re making me worry about you and that’s going to make e mil. You don’t want me to get ill again do you?” Of course not, but that’s hardly a constructive thing to say is it? She seems to have a unique misunderstanding of me. She subjects me to all the negative things that a depressive should be spared. I’m growing fat on negativity (figuratively and literally), and she’s the one who’s doing most of the feeding.
Without a doubt, every day I spend in her presence makes me worse. I try my best to get by in this house, causing as little argument and conflict as possible. She complains that I don’t empty the rubbish; I do it every night now. Of course today, she filled up the bin during the course of one afternoon, before I’d even used it, and complained, once more, that she has to do everything. Why, she asked, can’t I just empty the bin. After all, I only empty it every evening. Of course, that’s not good enough. My mum has always been like this. Always moaning at me, always criticising me. Always interrupting me when I’m in the middle of something. I can’t concentrate when she’s in the house. When I wake, suddenly in the night, I often think I’ve heard her shriek my name (could I not be called something less screamable. Something with more than one syllable and no high pitched ending). Whatever I do to placate her, she always finds something else to moan about. There really is no reason why I should bother to put in any effort at all. However much I do, she always finds my efforts wanting in some way.
I wonder; is she like the cat that sits on the lap of the person who has a distaste or phobia of felines?
You seek attention from those who deny it from you. Is this the same? Is this her way of getting my attention? She complains so much that I don’t sit with her on evenings when I’m at home, preferring the solitude of my room. Of course when I do keep her company I’m subjected to abuse and criticism. It’s no wonder I stay in my room. She seems not to have grasped this simple concept.
I don’t feel welcome. She keeps threatening to throw me out. I know she doesn’t mean it, but I can’t help but feel insecure.
Ultimately, I know I’m a disappointment to my Dad. Worse, perhaps, I’m a disappointment to myself. I had such a brilliant idea of how my life would be by this age, but it just hasn’t happened. As much as I can attribute the blame to others, I know that I am, in the end, the one who is responsible for this shambolic existence of mine.
I’m going to try to get out more as soon as I can. I haven’t felt like leaving the house recently. When I have endured the outside would I’ve felt extremely uncomfortable. Hopefully I’ll be out tomorrow. Out with friends for drinks. With any luck I’ll be able to keep up a façade of happiness long enough for nobody to realise that I’m hiding my sadness behind a mask. Of course, pretend long enough and it ceases to be an act. It’s much easier to be happy when you’re actually having fun.
I’ll be back with my normal posting soon. Hopefully. By the way, this is often how I've felt when I've stopped writing in the past. Perhaps it will help if I write through it.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Dreams that probably won’t come true. Part 2
So, finally back to that other dream I had last week.
Well this dream was a little peculiar. I suspect it’s come about as a result of my brain trying to resolve, or at least explore, some of the issues my conscious mind has been trying to repress. I’ll explain the dream and I’ll try to tell you what I think it all means.
Okay, so on to Sunday nights dream. This one really was kind of weird. You see, in this dream, it turned out that my sister had managed to buy up an eight year lease on an apartment building containing 300 flats. It subsequently turned out that, rather than getting this through some sort of shrewd investment as I had initially thought, my sister had got lucky and picked it up for £8.50. Perhaps this is my way of considering the credit crisis. I think, personally, that it comes from feeling that my sister somehow managed to get all the breaks, whilst I was left with sod all. Anyway, we make the journey down to the building, which is located in the E8 postcode. I looked up where E8 is, and apparently it’s Hackney. Why Hackney, I wonder. I guess I must have seen the postcode E8 on the news lately without realising it.
Then there was some bit where I went to a restaurant on the ground floor of the apartment block. My sister owned the lease on that too. I remember lots of people arriving whist I was, somehow, excluded. I think I may have been looking after everybody’s coats.
After that the action cuts to a flat within the building. It’s not my flat; oddly it’s one that’s being rented by one of my ex-girlfriends. This, in itself, is a little odd since this particular girlfriend recently got married to a man in his late 40s (she’s the same age as me) who has two teenage kids. To be honest, that whole situation surprised me a bit. This, after all, is the girl who said she never wanted kids. What the hell was she doing taking on responsibility for the children of some guy who’s only 18 years from collecting his pension. Technically, he’s old enough to be her dad. What the fuck does she see in him? Is it just security? Did she marry him because he looks after her and can provide her with the safety net to allow her to do whatever the hell she likes? In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s sleeping with somebody else behind his back. That is, after all, exactly what she did to me when we were gong out.
(It was at this point, in my original draft of this post that I went into a bit of a rant about this girl and attempted to deconstruct the whole relationship. I’ve omitted it here, simply for the sake of keeping the post a reasonable length. I’ll probably stick it all into a future post so you’ll probably have the opportunity to read it at a later date).
Anyway, lots of stuff happened and the party got gradually more and more debauched. It was then that I very clearly remember being on a sofa, fingering Lily Allen. Fuck knows why. I’ve never really had a particularly strong attraction to Ms Allen. Maybe, deep down what I really want to do, more than anything else is to digitally penetrate Lily Allen? It’s funny, I would have thought I’d have loftier goals than that. Like maybe aspiring to get a blowjob from Kate Nash. Actually, now that I think of it, the girl may just have looked and dressed a bit like Lily Allen. I wonder if that has any significance?
Later on, still at the party, I borrowed one of my ex’s DVDs. She had one of mine, my dream self was sure of it, so I felt fully justified. As sure as I was, I had to double check that I was right. I managed to find a DVD full of pirated films. The handwriting on it was mine. I left it where it lay and took my ex's DVD. My actions were vindicated.
After that, I left the party and ended up walking down the train line to god knows where. I got to the station, walked on to the platform (I think) and made my way to a bar. When I was in the bar I had an overwhelming feeling of uncoolness. Everyone around me seemed younger, cooler and better dressed than me. I felt like I was looking for somebody, but I don’t know who. I went up to the bar. Everybody around me was ordering weird, trendy cocktails. I looked around. Nobody had the kind of drinks you’d usually find in a pub. All the glasses were full of neon and pastel liquids stuffed to the gills with chunks of fruit and leafy stuff. All I wanted was a cold beer. I don’t think I ever got one though. The last thing I remember seeing is a large, cardboard box, cut in half diagonally. It was sitting on the bar. In side were uneven cut-outs displaying the names of a bunch of bands like Shed Seven. As nonsensical as it sounds, I, for some reason, thought that this was the mechanism for operating the jukebox.
Then I woke up, feeling quite depressed.
So, what does it all mean? At a guess, I’d say that I think my sister’s done better than me, but it’s mostly down to luck. I feel like my ex-girlfriend owes me something, but I’m not sure what. Finally, and this is a recurring theme, I don’t feel I’m young, cool and great anymore and I’m going nowhere.
Buggered if I can understand the Lily Allen stuff though.
Well this dream was a little peculiar. I suspect it’s come about as a result of my brain trying to resolve, or at least explore, some of the issues my conscious mind has been trying to repress. I’ll explain the dream and I’ll try to tell you what I think it all means.
Okay, so on to Sunday nights dream. This one really was kind of weird. You see, in this dream, it turned out that my sister had managed to buy up an eight year lease on an apartment building containing 300 flats. It subsequently turned out that, rather than getting this through some sort of shrewd investment as I had initially thought, my sister had got lucky and picked it up for £8.50. Perhaps this is my way of considering the credit crisis. I think, personally, that it comes from feeling that my sister somehow managed to get all the breaks, whilst I was left with sod all. Anyway, we make the journey down to the building, which is located in the E8 postcode. I looked up where E8 is, and apparently it’s Hackney. Why Hackney, I wonder. I guess I must have seen the postcode E8 on the news lately without realising it.
Then there was some bit where I went to a restaurant on the ground floor of the apartment block. My sister owned the lease on that too. I remember lots of people arriving whist I was, somehow, excluded. I think I may have been looking after everybody’s coats.
After that the action cuts to a flat within the building. It’s not my flat; oddly it’s one that’s being rented by one of my ex-girlfriends. This, in itself, is a little odd since this particular girlfriend recently got married to a man in his late 40s (she’s the same age as me) who has two teenage kids. To be honest, that whole situation surprised me a bit. This, after all, is the girl who said she never wanted kids. What the hell was she doing taking on responsibility for the children of some guy who’s only 18 years from collecting his pension. Technically, he’s old enough to be her dad. What the fuck does she see in him? Is it just security? Did she marry him because he looks after her and can provide her with the safety net to allow her to do whatever the hell she likes? In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s sleeping with somebody else behind his back. That is, after all, exactly what she did to me when we were gong out.
(It was at this point, in my original draft of this post that I went into a bit of a rant about this girl and attempted to deconstruct the whole relationship. I’ve omitted it here, simply for the sake of keeping the post a reasonable length. I’ll probably stick it all into a future post so you’ll probably have the opportunity to read it at a later date).
Anyway, lots of stuff happened and the party got gradually more and more debauched. It was then that I very clearly remember being on a sofa, fingering Lily Allen. Fuck knows why. I’ve never really had a particularly strong attraction to Ms Allen. Maybe, deep down what I really want to do, more than anything else is to digitally penetrate Lily Allen? It’s funny, I would have thought I’d have loftier goals than that. Like maybe aspiring to get a blowjob from Kate Nash. Actually, now that I think of it, the girl may just have looked and dressed a bit like Lily Allen. I wonder if that has any significance?
Later on, still at the party, I borrowed one of my ex’s DVDs. She had one of mine, my dream self was sure of it, so I felt fully justified. As sure as I was, I had to double check that I was right. I managed to find a DVD full of pirated films. The handwriting on it was mine. I left it where it lay and took my ex's DVD. My actions were vindicated.
After that, I left the party and ended up walking down the train line to god knows where. I got to the station, walked on to the platform (I think) and made my way to a bar. When I was in the bar I had an overwhelming feeling of uncoolness. Everyone around me seemed younger, cooler and better dressed than me. I felt like I was looking for somebody, but I don’t know who. I went up to the bar. Everybody around me was ordering weird, trendy cocktails. I looked around. Nobody had the kind of drinks you’d usually find in a pub. All the glasses were full of neon and pastel liquids stuffed to the gills with chunks of fruit and leafy stuff. All I wanted was a cold beer. I don’t think I ever got one though. The last thing I remember seeing is a large, cardboard box, cut in half diagonally. It was sitting on the bar. In side were uneven cut-outs displaying the names of a bunch of bands like Shed Seven. As nonsensical as it sounds, I, for some reason, thought that this was the mechanism for operating the jukebox.
Then I woke up, feeling quite depressed.
So, what does it all mean? At a guess, I’d say that I think my sister’s done better than me, but it’s mostly down to luck. I feel like my ex-girlfriend owes me something, but I’m not sure what. Finally, and this is a recurring theme, I don’t feel I’m young, cool and great anymore and I’m going nowhere.
Buggered if I can understand the Lily Allen stuff though.
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