Blogger told me this was the 100th post, but, having counted (I seem to have a lot of time on my hands) I realised that it isn't. Anyway, though it may not be my 100th post there's still something just a touch monumental about it. This post (which I think is my 98th or 96th, or something) is my last...
Let's just let that sink in for a moment...
Of course, now that I've given you a few seconds to digest that part of the news I can continue...
This post is my last... on Blogger. Yep, that's right, I've upped sticks and moved home to Wordpress (after all, I understand that's what all the cool kids are doing these days). Everything that once was (and actually still is and forever more shall be) here can now be found on the Wordpress blog. Every post and every comment (barring this final, Blogger exclusive one) has been duplicated with ease, thanks to Wordpress's handy migration tool. With any luck this will signal a bit of a return to more frequent posting.
So please, follow me across to the new blogsite. I hope you enjoy reading about my delightful (and, I'm sure on occasion, not so delightful) adventures, misadventures and musings.
You can find the new and improved (but mostly the same) Notes for a Confused Life right HERE.
And, because I can't help but be lead wherever the cool kids say I should go, over the last month I've also been posting on Twitter. You can check out my feed on the right hand side of the new blog (can you do that Blogger? I don't think so) or go straight to my Twitter home HERE.
In the meantime, I wanted to thank everybody who's been following me on Blogger for the last few years. It's been great to know that there are people out there who will actually listen to and appreciate my writing, despite the fact of it's occasional moroseness. I hope that you'll all take a look at my new home on Wordpress.
PS. As a little addendum to this final post I thought I'd mention that I'm going to be experimenting with creating a few more blogs. Once they're up and running, you'll find links to them on my Wordpress page, as well as at the end of this final post.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
No broken, just mildly sprained
I have a horrid feeling that my last post read like I was having some kind of psychotic breakdown. Rest assured, my mental state, whilst a little fragile at the moment, isn't so volatile that I'm about to go on a shotgun wielding, kill crazy rampage. My destructiveness extends only to myself. Obviously that doesn't mean I'm about to jump of a bridge either. I'm making things worse now aren't I?
Anyway, over the last 24 hours my mood's been very up and down, but I think I'm probably over the worst of it, at least for now.
I've written a hell of a lot of posts for somebody who, only yesterday, was going to give up on the whole blogging thing all together. I felt so differently then, almost like I was a different person. God, I was trying to write this post to show how much better I'm feeling; right now I seem to be insinuating that I have multiple personality disorder.
Right, I'm going to wrap things up now, before I end up suggesting that I'm suffering from every single kind of mental illness in the book. By the way, my next post will be this blog's 100th. I don't have anything special planned for it, but I just thought I'd mention it.
Anyway, over the last 24 hours my mood's been very up and down, but I think I'm probably over the worst of it, at least for now.
I've written a hell of a lot of posts for somebody who, only yesterday, was going to give up on the whole blogging thing all together. I felt so differently then, almost like I was a different person. God, I was trying to write this post to show how much better I'm feeling; right now I seem to be insinuating that I have multiple personality disorder.
Right, I'm going to wrap things up now, before I end up suggesting that I'm suffering from every single kind of mental illness in the book. By the way, my next post will be this blog's 100th. I don't have anything special planned for it, but I just thought I'd mention it.
Friday, March 13, 2009
What's wrong with people?
Every time I leave the house and go to my local shops, the people out there, on the roads and in the shops, upset me. I hate this place; I hate the people with their small minded, me-first selfishness. Nobody cares about anybody else.
Just up the road from me is a junction with two lanes. Just beyond where you wait at the traffic lights the left hand lane is usually filled with cars, so there’s no real point in starting off in this lane. Of course people do. They do it all the time and force their way out like the selfish little shits they are. That happened today. Some cock in an Audi A3 (Audi drivers really are the new BMW owners) pulled up alongside me. I knew what he was going to try to do. He wanted to force his way through. He wanted to skip the queue. And I thought, Fuck you. I’m not letting you through. You’ll have to learn to be patient. Join the right lane and don’t be a prick. I put my foot full to the floor and didn’t change into third, but the fucker had a faster car than me, and he wasn’t backing off. I had to break and let him through. My desire to prevent an accident was greater than his desire to not cause one. What the fuck is wrong with these people? If I hadn’t braked sharply he’d have rammed into the back of the first parked car. Maybe I’m in the wrong too. Maybe I shouldn’t try to impose my belief system on somebody else.
But I fucking hate this town. It’s full of arseholes. Nobody gives a crap about anybody else. Shopkeepers are rude. They don’t say hello, they don’t say thank you. A good deal of them don’t even tell you what the total is when it’s time to pay up. They just sit their wordlessly, expecting to hand over your cash without any kind of prompt. I walk up to a till, smile and say hello, but I get nothing in return. Half the time they barely pay any attention to me; I feel like I’m just interrupting them, I’m just another thing that gets in the way of them talking to their colleagues in a language I don’t understand. No wonder I feel so isolated at times. I don’t understand most of the conversations that are going on around me. I firmly believe that one of the things that cause the most division between people of different cultures is an inability to communicate. How can we begin to understand each other’s cultures and ways if we can’t understand the words that they are saying? Sometimes I walk into a shop and just feel unwelcome, like I’m not a part of the community that should be there, so I’m treated like a 2nd class citizen. I’m friendly, I’m polite, I’m even nice, but still nothing.
In truth, there is no real community around here, just disparate sets of people, each with their own agendas’ and a mutual distrust, and even hatred, of anybody who doesn’t belong to their small minded, insular, clique.
I just can’t live here anymore. I try to treat everybody as an equal, regardless of whoever they are. I treat everybody with the same courtesy that I’d expect to receive in return, but I get nothing.
I use the self service tills at my local Tesco now. I feel like the level of customer service I receive from them is way higher than I’d get from any of the lazy, uncouth, till jockeys.
I live in a main road where I constantly hear the sounds of cars as they go by. So frequently I’m forced to endure the “Boom, Boom, Boom” bass sound coming from some inconsiderate little noise polluting shit’s car stereo. Why be such an obnoxious little prick? Why do something that’s only real purpose must be to infuriate others. Why be like that?
Like I said, every time I leave this house and don’t head straight for a tube into Central London, I encounter someone whose behaviour disgusts me. Actually, one night, whilst I was taking the five minute walk from my local tube station, some disgusting piece of excrement appalled me. Right in front of me, just as I was about to pass him, the foul bastard gobbed into my path. I can’t stand people who spit. It’s disgusting and there’s no need for it whatsoever.
I truly believe that if everybody was just a little bit nicer, a little bit kinder and a little bit more polite to each other, the world would be a far better place. All it takes is a few words; Say please, thank you. Smile at each other. Wave to show your appreciation when someone lets you through when you’re driving. A little bit of consideration. That’s all I want. I just need everybody to display the tiniest bit of empathy. I said earlier that language can create a barrier between people, but communication isn’t just about words. It’s about attitude, it’s about demeanour, it’s about all those little gestures, both conscious and subconscious that show you care.
It doesn’t take much, but still, they don’t even try. I may feel these things more deeply than most, but I’m willing to bet that this sort of thing has a cumulative effect. When people mistreat each other, no matter how slightly, it has an effect. It seeps into your soul, making it rot away until all that’s left is the fetid corpse of your own morality.
Do something nice for someone, treat someone with respect and they’ll remember it. Then, maybe they’ll do something good for someone else. The cycle can go on and on and on and on and maybe, given time, the world will end up being just that little bit more bearable.
Just up the road from me is a junction with two lanes. Just beyond where you wait at the traffic lights the left hand lane is usually filled with cars, so there’s no real point in starting off in this lane. Of course people do. They do it all the time and force their way out like the selfish little shits they are. That happened today. Some cock in an Audi A3 (Audi drivers really are the new BMW owners) pulled up alongside me. I knew what he was going to try to do. He wanted to force his way through. He wanted to skip the queue. And I thought, Fuck you. I’m not letting you through. You’ll have to learn to be patient. Join the right lane and don’t be a prick. I put my foot full to the floor and didn’t change into third, but the fucker had a faster car than me, and he wasn’t backing off. I had to break and let him through. My desire to prevent an accident was greater than his desire to not cause one. What the fuck is wrong with these people? If I hadn’t braked sharply he’d have rammed into the back of the first parked car. Maybe I’m in the wrong too. Maybe I shouldn’t try to impose my belief system on somebody else.
But I fucking hate this town. It’s full of arseholes. Nobody gives a crap about anybody else. Shopkeepers are rude. They don’t say hello, they don’t say thank you. A good deal of them don’t even tell you what the total is when it’s time to pay up. They just sit their wordlessly, expecting to hand over your cash without any kind of prompt. I walk up to a till, smile and say hello, but I get nothing in return. Half the time they barely pay any attention to me; I feel like I’m just interrupting them, I’m just another thing that gets in the way of them talking to their colleagues in a language I don’t understand. No wonder I feel so isolated at times. I don’t understand most of the conversations that are going on around me. I firmly believe that one of the things that cause the most division between people of different cultures is an inability to communicate. How can we begin to understand each other’s cultures and ways if we can’t understand the words that they are saying? Sometimes I walk into a shop and just feel unwelcome, like I’m not a part of the community that should be there, so I’m treated like a 2nd class citizen. I’m friendly, I’m polite, I’m even nice, but still nothing.
In truth, there is no real community around here, just disparate sets of people, each with their own agendas’ and a mutual distrust, and even hatred, of anybody who doesn’t belong to their small minded, insular, clique.
I just can’t live here anymore. I try to treat everybody as an equal, regardless of whoever they are. I treat everybody with the same courtesy that I’d expect to receive in return, but I get nothing.
I use the self service tills at my local Tesco now. I feel like the level of customer service I receive from them is way higher than I’d get from any of the lazy, uncouth, till jockeys.
I live in a main road where I constantly hear the sounds of cars as they go by. So frequently I’m forced to endure the “Boom, Boom, Boom” bass sound coming from some inconsiderate little noise polluting shit’s car stereo. Why be such an obnoxious little prick? Why do something that’s only real purpose must be to infuriate others. Why be like that?
Like I said, every time I leave this house and don’t head straight for a tube into Central London, I encounter someone whose behaviour disgusts me. Actually, one night, whilst I was taking the five minute walk from my local tube station, some disgusting piece of excrement appalled me. Right in front of me, just as I was about to pass him, the foul bastard gobbed into my path. I can’t stand people who spit. It’s disgusting and there’s no need for it whatsoever.
I truly believe that if everybody was just a little bit nicer, a little bit kinder and a little bit more polite to each other, the world would be a far better place. All it takes is a few words; Say please, thank you. Smile at each other. Wave to show your appreciation when someone lets you through when you’re driving. A little bit of consideration. That’s all I want. I just need everybody to display the tiniest bit of empathy. I said earlier that language can create a barrier between people, but communication isn’t just about words. It’s about attitude, it’s about demeanour, it’s about all those little gestures, both conscious and subconscious that show you care.
It doesn’t take much, but still, they don’t even try. I may feel these things more deeply than most, but I’m willing to bet that this sort of thing has a cumulative effect. When people mistreat each other, no matter how slightly, it has an effect. It seeps into your soul, making it rot away until all that’s left is the fetid corpse of your own morality.
Do something nice for someone, treat someone with respect and they’ll remember it. Then, maybe they’ll do something good for someone else. The cycle can go on and on and on and on and maybe, given time, the world will end up being just that little bit more bearable.
A lost post
OK, so this was a post I was working on whilst I was on the train from Kings Cross to York.
“Well, I'm having to type one handed with my screen at a weird, backwards angle, but I'm still managing to come to you live from a train bound for York. Why, you might ask, am I going to York? Well, I'll tell you. I'm off to a Stag Weekend. One of my friends is getting married in a couple of weeks. Oddly enough, it's only the second wedding of one of my Uni mates that I’m attending.
Anyway, it's been a little more than a week since my last post[meaning the post about the break up email], and I've calmed down an awful lot. In truth, as soon as I hit the “publish” button all the bitterness and vitriol drained away. To be honest, and you may have guessed this from my last post, I really wasn't all that in to her. She was fun to go out with, sure, but we were far too different for there to be any real future in it. Actually, to tell you the truth, a lot of what I wrote was sort of designed to make me look a little more wronged than I actually was. I'd had a fair few thoughts about calling it off with her in the preceding couple of weeks before I received her email. Actually, I know that I made a bit of a big deal about being broken up with via email. A lot of people, could, made mention of the fact that it was quite a bad thing, and, at the time, I agreed. In actual fact, it didn’t bother me all that much.
I can't type on the train, it's too cramped. I'll have to wait until I get to the station to finish.”
Of course, I didn’t get round to finishing it. I ended up in a pub called “The Maltings”, reading “Dawn of the Dumb” by Charlie Brooker whilst I waited for one of my friends to arrive on the 4pm train.
As a little post script to all that, this girl and I have been trading emails for the last couple of weeks, so I guess everything’s cool there. She’d suggested meeting up again as friends, and, for the record, I think she’s pretty sincere. Like I said, in itself, it wasn’t a big thing, but I think that it has had some sort of effect on me, deep down. Ultimately, whilst I really do think that it was a good idea to stop seeing her, it’s possible that, in a far more general sense, things not working out affected me more than I realised.
“Well, I'm having to type one handed with my screen at a weird, backwards angle, but I'm still managing to come to you live from a train bound for York. Why, you might ask, am I going to York? Well, I'll tell you. I'm off to a Stag Weekend. One of my friends is getting married in a couple of weeks. Oddly enough, it's only the second wedding of one of my Uni mates that I’m attending.
Anyway, it's been a little more than a week since my last post[meaning the post about the break up email], and I've calmed down an awful lot. In truth, as soon as I hit the “publish” button all the bitterness and vitriol drained away. To be honest, and you may have guessed this from my last post, I really wasn't all that in to her. She was fun to go out with, sure, but we were far too different for there to be any real future in it. Actually, to tell you the truth, a lot of what I wrote was sort of designed to make me look a little more wronged than I actually was. I'd had a fair few thoughts about calling it off with her in the preceding couple of weeks before I received her email. Actually, I know that I made a bit of a big deal about being broken up with via email. A lot of people, could, made mention of the fact that it was quite a bad thing, and, at the time, I agreed. In actual fact, it didn’t bother me all that much.
I can't type on the train, it's too cramped. I'll have to wait until I get to the station to finish.”
Of course, I didn’t get round to finishing it. I ended up in a pub called “The Maltings”, reading “Dawn of the Dumb” by Charlie Brooker whilst I waited for one of my friends to arrive on the 4pm train.
As a little post script to all that, this girl and I have been trading emails for the last couple of weeks, so I guess everything’s cool there. She’d suggested meeting up again as friends, and, for the record, I think she’s pretty sincere. Like I said, in itself, it wasn’t a big thing, but I think that it has had some sort of effect on me, deep down. Ultimately, whilst I really do think that it was a good idea to stop seeing her, it’s possible that, in a far more general sense, things not working out affected me more than I realised.
Getting Better
Well, I’ve been out of it for most of the day, but I did, relatively randomly, start to feel better as night fell. I say randomly, but I suspect that there’s a reason behind it. I’ll do a little research and let you all know what I’ve found out.
I just wanted to thanks everybody for their support. I’m kind of puzzled by “Anonymous”, because, to be perfectly frank, I know exactly how to think and feel. In many ways that’s the problem; I know what I think (though, at times I may express myself a little guardedly or perhaps mildly inarticulately) and what I feel seems to depend greatly on my brain chemistry at any given moment. Actually that’s started to make me question the difference between thoughts and feeling. Are thoughts a conscious, cognitive process whilst feelings are purely involuntary and unguarded? I really should have studied psychology; at least I’d have a faint idea about what I meant. I’ll look it up later. Anyway, that’s kind of going off on a tangent.
I have a very clear idea of who I am and what I want; I’m just a little unsure of how to make all of that work in the real world. Not only that, the depression plays a part in making me not want to even try. It makes me want to fail so as I can quench it's thirst for misery.
So that’s the difficulty I face. I have to deal with the little bio-chemical bastard that whispers bile in my ear.
All I can say is that, right now, I feel better. Not 100%, but better.
I just wanted to thanks everybody for their support. I’m kind of puzzled by “Anonymous”, because, to be perfectly frank, I know exactly how to think and feel. In many ways that’s the problem; I know what I think (though, at times I may express myself a little guardedly or perhaps mildly inarticulately) and what I feel seems to depend greatly on my brain chemistry at any given moment. Actually that’s started to make me question the difference between thoughts and feeling. Are thoughts a conscious, cognitive process whilst feelings are purely involuntary and unguarded? I really should have studied psychology; at least I’d have a faint idea about what I meant. I’ll look it up later. Anyway, that’s kind of going off on a tangent.
I have a very clear idea of who I am and what I want; I’m just a little unsure of how to make all of that work in the real world. Not only that, the depression plays a part in making me not want to even try. It makes me want to fail so as I can quench it's thirst for misery.
So that’s the difficulty I face. I have to deal with the little bio-chemical bastard that whispers bile in my ear.
All I can say is that, right now, I feel better. Not 100%, but better.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
A break
This may be my last post for a while. I'm not feeling good at all. I've come to the conclusion that I can't get a good job because I'm just not bright enough for the things I want to do. I can't write as well as I'd like, I'm not as intelligent as I feel I should be.
I tried to solve a maths problem I saw on the internet today, but even after I was presented with the solution, I didn't understand it.
For much of the day I've done absolutely nothing. I tried to apply for a job, but I just couldn't do it. No application I've ever done has ever led to any work, so why bother. Besides, I'm not sure I even want the job. I don't even know if I could do it anyway. At the moment I just can’t seem to do anything.
I get bored, very quickly, with repetitive, administrative tasks, but I don't know if I'm really capable of anything more. Of course, I can't even get that sort of job since employers can clock that I'll find them tedious. Actually, about 15 months ago I got turned down for a job working at a company in Ealing for exactly that reason.
I don't think I'll ever manage to realise my potential, but then my potential falls just a little short of anything worthwhile anyway, so there's probably little point anyway.
So, I fall between the cracks in the employment market. I don't fit in anywhere.
I don't really fit in anywhere in the wider sense too. My values and beliefs seem at odds with the world at large. I'd explain that at greater length, but I just can't muster up the energy. Basically I don't understand why most people are so unkind, so unpleasant. I don't understand why the world is so oriented towards greed. Why do people become so obsessed with acquiring wealth? Why do they wish to have dominion over others and subjugate them to their will? I can't stand authority. I can't stand it when people try to tell me what I must do or how I should behave. I have my own set of rules, my own set of guidelines and morals. If I stray from those I usually punish myself enough by feeling shitty about it.
I’ll be back. Maybe not before too long. Maybe it’ll even be tomorrow. Who knows how I’ll feel.
I tried to solve a maths problem I saw on the internet today, but even after I was presented with the solution, I didn't understand it.
For much of the day I've done absolutely nothing. I tried to apply for a job, but I just couldn't do it. No application I've ever done has ever led to any work, so why bother. Besides, I'm not sure I even want the job. I don't even know if I could do it anyway. At the moment I just can’t seem to do anything.
I get bored, very quickly, with repetitive, administrative tasks, but I don't know if I'm really capable of anything more. Of course, I can't even get that sort of job since employers can clock that I'll find them tedious. Actually, about 15 months ago I got turned down for a job working at a company in Ealing for exactly that reason.
I don't think I'll ever manage to realise my potential, but then my potential falls just a little short of anything worthwhile anyway, so there's probably little point anyway.
So, I fall between the cracks in the employment market. I don't fit in anywhere.
I don't really fit in anywhere in the wider sense too. My values and beliefs seem at odds with the world at large. I'd explain that at greater length, but I just can't muster up the energy. Basically I don't understand why most people are so unkind, so unpleasant. I don't understand why the world is so oriented towards greed. Why do people become so obsessed with acquiring wealth? Why do they wish to have dominion over others and subjugate them to their will? I can't stand authority. I can't stand it when people try to tell me what I must do or how I should behave. I have my own set of rules, my own set of guidelines and morals. If I stray from those I usually punish myself enough by feeling shitty about it.
I’ll be back. Maybe not before too long. Maybe it’ll even be tomorrow. Who knows how I’ll feel.
Monday, March 09, 2009
Isn't Technology Marvelous
Thank Christ for Sky Plus
My mood has been lifted by the opportunity afforded the little hard drive under my telly. I've just watched QI(technically QI XL, the extended edition) and, throughout the show I was in stitches. I'm rather a fan of the show anyway, but this particular edition focused on film, a subject with which I'm particularly enamoured.
Obviously, what with the show being staffed by superb brainboxes (and Alan Davies) it initially gave me something of an inferiority complex, but I soon got over that.
It's also reminded me of something said about mental health issues. He once remarked that manic depression was the best sort of depression to have because, whilst you were crippled by the lows, you were more than adequately compensated by the manic highs, enabling the sufferer to indulge in all sorts of creative flights of fantasy. It's a shame then, that I suffer only from the common, garden variety of depression which puts me in a mindset where I'm completely unable to get on with anything at all. Oh, if only I were bi-polar.
Of course, I could have just as easily used iPlayer, but my point would be much the same; technology is fantastic.
My mood has been lifted by the opportunity afforded the little hard drive under my telly. I've just watched QI(technically QI XL, the extended edition) and, throughout the show I was in stitches. I'm rather a fan of the show anyway, but this particular edition focused on film, a subject with which I'm particularly enamoured.
Obviously, what with the show being staffed by superb brainboxes (and Alan Davies) it initially gave me something of an inferiority complex, but I soon got over that.
It's also reminded me of something said about mental health issues. He once remarked that manic depression was the best sort of depression to have because, whilst you were crippled by the lows, you were more than adequately compensated by the manic highs, enabling the sufferer to indulge in all sorts of creative flights of fantasy. It's a shame then, that I suffer only from the common, garden variety of depression which puts me in a mindset where I'm completely unable to get on with anything at all. Oh, if only I were bi-polar.
Of course, I could have just as easily used iPlayer, but my point would be much the same; technology is fantastic.
I'm not checking out.
I may have overstated the suicide bit; I don't think I'd ever do that, but I do feel extremely low and my Mum really is exacerbating things.
I don't want to upset her but I can't make things magically happen. If I try to pursue everything she says I'll just end up becoming more and more unhappy.
She walked in to my room and told me that the first thing I had to do was find a job. Moments later, she came back and told me that the first thing I had to do was eBay all the old magazines I found in the loft. She then told me that I couldn't write all day (which is what I want to do), I could do it at night. Of course, when I said I was going to write, all I meant was top write job applications, eBay sales and a few articles to send to magazine in teh hope of getting some work.
I can't stand being told what I can and cannot do.
She things that I spend 12 hours a day in bed. The truth is, I naturally can't sleep until late. And could you blame me. I go to bed late so that I can have a little peace and quiet, some time to myself without the moaning and the shouting.
The irony is, I was going to spend my day doing all of those things, but I can't stand being ordered to do it all. Her constant sniping and moaning just makes em feel awful; so bad that I just can't deal with anything.
I need to get out of here. I just can't stand it anymore. I just want to be around somebody who's supportive, but I'd settle for being left alone. She's gone out shopping so I've a few moments to myself. I actually called her and asked if she wouldn't mind picking me up a couple of cans of Spaghetti hoops. I got moaned at. "Oh, so you want me to get your shopping for you whilst you stay in bed all day." I just can't stand this.
So, nothing gets done, and it's all her fault. I feel like I need to go away somewhere for a few weeks where I can have some peace and quiet and just be allowed to do things my way. Without that I'm just going to go nowhere.
I don't want to upset her but I can't make things magically happen. If I try to pursue everything she says I'll just end up becoming more and more unhappy.
She walked in to my room and told me that the first thing I had to do was find a job. Moments later, she came back and told me that the first thing I had to do was eBay all the old magazines I found in the loft. She then told me that I couldn't write all day (which is what I want to do), I could do it at night. Of course, when I said I was going to write, all I meant was top write job applications, eBay sales and a few articles to send to magazine in teh hope of getting some work.
I can't stand being told what I can and cannot do.
She things that I spend 12 hours a day in bed. The truth is, I naturally can't sleep until late. And could you blame me. I go to bed late so that I can have a little peace and quiet, some time to myself without the moaning and the shouting.
The irony is, I was going to spend my day doing all of those things, but I can't stand being ordered to do it all. Her constant sniping and moaning just makes em feel awful; so bad that I just can't deal with anything.
I need to get out of here. I just can't stand it anymore. I just want to be around somebody who's supportive, but I'd settle for being left alone. She's gone out shopping so I've a few moments to myself. I actually called her and asked if she wouldn't mind picking me up a couple of cans of Spaghetti hoops. I got moaned at. "Oh, so you want me to get your shopping for you whilst you stay in bed all day." I just can't stand this.
So, nothing gets done, and it's all her fault. I feel like I need to go away somewhere for a few weeks where I can have some peace and quiet and just be allowed to do things my way. Without that I'm just going to go nowhere.
I've had enough
I've tried out Twitter, and frankly, 140 characters isn't long enough, so I'm probably not going to bother with it anymore.
I have woken up this morning with a headache (again). Last night I was feeling anxious and depressed. I had pains in my chest which seemed to have returned to me this morning after my Mother started, as soon as she saw me, moaning at me about getting a job. So far she's suggested that I work part time at Sainsburys or join the army. So, it seems that she wants me dead. I'd kill myself after a stint at a supermarket or be killed by a hail of bullets or blown to pieces by a suicide bomber if I joined the armed forces.
I would like a job, yes, but I can't just keep getting rubbishy ones to placate my Mum. That's all I've been doing for the past few years and it's just getting me nowhere. If she simply wants me to continue my cycle of misery then I'm just going to have to check out of this life for good.
How on earth does it help me to have her say that I'm making her miserable? Does she not realise that by saying that sort of thing she'll simply make me feel worse and thus less capable of actually improving my situation?
I was at a friend's stag do this weekend and, presuming that I make it through the day, I'll jot down some of my thoughts about that in a future post.
But truly, I've had enough.
I have woken up this morning with a headache (again). Last night I was feeling anxious and depressed. I had pains in my chest which seemed to have returned to me this morning after my Mother started, as soon as she saw me, moaning at me about getting a job. So far she's suggested that I work part time at Sainsburys or join the army. So, it seems that she wants me dead. I'd kill myself after a stint at a supermarket or be killed by a hail of bullets or blown to pieces by a suicide bomber if I joined the armed forces.
I would like a job, yes, but I can't just keep getting rubbishy ones to placate my Mum. That's all I've been doing for the past few years and it's just getting me nowhere. If she simply wants me to continue my cycle of misery then I'm just going to have to check out of this life for good.
How on earth does it help me to have her say that I'm making her miserable? Does she not realise that by saying that sort of thing she'll simply make me feel worse and thus less capable of actually improving my situation?
I was at a friend's stag do this weekend and, presuming that I make it through the day, I'll jot down some of my thoughts about that in a future post.
But truly, I've had enough.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
No Surprises
So, the lesson here is, trust your instincts. I was completely right about the girl. Today I got an email (yes, an email) telling me that she didn’t want to see me “romantically” anymore.
I’ll reprint the relevant section below. Bear in mind this all followed a breezy how are you, oh I did this and that at the weekend – style bit. Go on, have a read; I’ll be here when you’ve finished.
“I'm really sorry but I have to tell you that I'm not sure about progressing anything romantically and I think I've more or less made up my mind about that. They say you should tell people face to face so I'm sorry if you consider this email inappropriate.
Anyhow, I hope it's not a big deal to you and for what it's worth I have definitely really enjoyed your company. Maybe if you felt like it we could be buddies and catch up again in a few weeks or something once I get back from Turkey. Just see how it goes.”
Actually, having read that, I’ve just noticed that she’s completely un-definite (not a word, but I’m in no mood to care) about the whole thing. “...I’m not sure...” and “...I think I’ve more or less made up my mind...” If you truly weren’t sure then you wouldn’t have sent the email. You’re damn sure, so why say otherwise. What a load of bullshit. Also, did you notice the complete lack of emotion in the letter? It’s phrased more like a job rejection letter than a real Dear John. Shit, she clearly spent little time bothering with it, because she obviously just dashed it off in her lunch hour (it came at 1.30pm on the dot). Unbelievable.
Right, now that it’s all over I’m going to share all my reservations about this girl with you.
Firstly, she was from New Zealand. She was always going to go back there, so any relationship I had was always going to have a sell by date.
At one point she mentioned horoscopes. Frankly this is unacceptable.
She had no idea about popular culture whatsoever. I’d mention TV, Films and a whole load of other stuff and she didn’t have a clue. Basically I had to completely bypass most of the things I would usually say because she had no clue as to what I was going on about.
Another issue, she was too young. I’m 31, she was 25. Six years is a bit too much of an age gap if you ask me. At least it certainly seemed to be in this case.
I always maintained that I would probably only go out with people who went to university. I later expanded (or clarified) that by saying that education and intelligence were important to me. I think I just need to see somebody who’s on my level intellectually (not a high level, admittedly, but it’s frustrating to have to talk to someone who doesn’t understand what you’re saying. If I wanted that I could just talk to my Mum). This is what happens when I ignore that policy. I said once that, one of the things I liked about her was that she asked me what some of the words I used meant. Well, I’d have really liked it if she’d already have bloody known. I sound like a snob don't I, but I really can't help needing to be stimulated by any conversation I might have. Otherwise I'm getting nothing. If I'm not growing, if I'm not progressing, I'm just regressing and I'm really not fond of travelling backwards.
I guess I know myself well enough by now to be fully clued up about what I want in a relationship and the sort of person with whom I’d want to have that relationship. Quite why I chose to go out with someone who ticked pretty much none of the boxes is beyond me.
She likes drum and base. That’s her favourite music. For fuck’s sake. Who the hell even likes drum and base anymore? Is she from the 90’s?
Also, whenever anybody says they want to be friends, they don’t mean it. Why the fuck bother with the thinly veiled nicety. Just be honest. Actually, that’s ironic, because one of the things I thought I admired about her was her honesty. It seems like I was wrong about that too.
She’s pretty, I’ll give her that, but when you have almost no interests in common, then it’s not enough.
It should also be added that when I was trying to decide whether I was going to break up with my last proper girlfriend, I made a list of pros and cons, so at least I’ve learnt that I haven’t really changed at all.
Frankly I felt like it was going way too slow. We’d only seen each other once a week. I would have liked to see her more often.
Anyway, this was my response. I wrote it within about 30 minutes of getting her email.
“It’s ok. For some reason I kind of figured that was the case. There was just something that stopped me from feeling entirely comfortable. Maybe that came across in how I’ve acted around you? I can’t be sure though.
I know this is probably going to be an awkward question, but what was it that finally made you come to that decision? I think I have a fair idea, but I’d kind of just like to hear your reasons. I suppose I’d like to know where I went wrong really. Anyway, if you don’t really feel like talking about it all, then I understand, but in the past I’ve regretted not asking the question and I thought it might be easier to answer in an email.
I wondered, perhaps, if my situation (and I don’t just mean my obvious failings, like a lack of permanent regular work and being stuck here at home), didn’t really lend itself to this sort of thing. I won’t go into details though; that would possibly be a bit silly at this point.
I’m glad you had a good weekend though. It would be nice to meet up again some time, but you can let me know if that’s still something you’d want to do once you return from Turkey.
Anyway, some work finally came through for me, so at least I’ve got something to get on with.
Are you feeling okay after your fall the other day? I’m sorry I forgot to ask about that before.
Finally, I just wanted to say that I’ve had a really great time with you over these past few weeks, so thank you for that.”
Asking why was a bad idea, I know. But why not ask a bit if an impertinent question. She tried to bypass any awkwardness by writing me an email to dump me, so why not make her squirm a little. That wasn’t my intention at the time I wrote it; I really just wanted to know why, but I refuse to feel bad about asking when I only felt like I could because of the impersonal nature of emails and that, after all, was her chosen communication method, not mine.
Anyway, that’s it for today. What I’ve written above may not be all that coherent, but I just can’t check it over again.
By the way, on a lighter note, I actually got given the writing work that I have to do. It’ll be a measly amount in my account, but it’s certainly better than nothing. I should really get to it now.
I’ll reprint the relevant section below. Bear in mind this all followed a breezy how are you, oh I did this and that at the weekend – style bit. Go on, have a read; I’ll be here when you’ve finished.
“I'm really sorry but I have to tell you that I'm not sure about progressing anything romantically and I think I've more or less made up my mind about that. They say you should tell people face to face so I'm sorry if you consider this email inappropriate.
Anyhow, I hope it's not a big deal to you and for what it's worth I have definitely really enjoyed your company. Maybe if you felt like it we could be buddies and catch up again in a few weeks or something once I get back from Turkey. Just see how it goes.”
Actually, having read that, I’ve just noticed that she’s completely un-definite (not a word, but I’m in no mood to care) about the whole thing. “...I’m not sure...” and “...I think I’ve more or less made up my mind...” If you truly weren’t sure then you wouldn’t have sent the email. You’re damn sure, so why say otherwise. What a load of bullshit. Also, did you notice the complete lack of emotion in the letter? It’s phrased more like a job rejection letter than a real Dear John. Shit, she clearly spent little time bothering with it, because she obviously just dashed it off in her lunch hour (it came at 1.30pm on the dot). Unbelievable.
Right, now that it’s all over I’m going to share all my reservations about this girl with you.
Firstly, she was from New Zealand. She was always going to go back there, so any relationship I had was always going to have a sell by date.
At one point she mentioned horoscopes. Frankly this is unacceptable.
She had no idea about popular culture whatsoever. I’d mention TV, Films and a whole load of other stuff and she didn’t have a clue. Basically I had to completely bypass most of the things I would usually say because she had no clue as to what I was going on about.
Another issue, she was too young. I’m 31, she was 25. Six years is a bit too much of an age gap if you ask me. At least it certainly seemed to be in this case.
I always maintained that I would probably only go out with people who went to university. I later expanded (or clarified) that by saying that education and intelligence were important to me. I think I just need to see somebody who’s on my level intellectually (not a high level, admittedly, but it’s frustrating to have to talk to someone who doesn’t understand what you’re saying. If I wanted that I could just talk to my Mum). This is what happens when I ignore that policy. I said once that, one of the things I liked about her was that she asked me what some of the words I used meant. Well, I’d have really liked it if she’d already have bloody known. I sound like a snob don't I, but I really can't help needing to be stimulated by any conversation I might have. Otherwise I'm getting nothing. If I'm not growing, if I'm not progressing, I'm just regressing and I'm really not fond of travelling backwards.
I guess I know myself well enough by now to be fully clued up about what I want in a relationship and the sort of person with whom I’d want to have that relationship. Quite why I chose to go out with someone who ticked pretty much none of the boxes is beyond me.
She likes drum and base. That’s her favourite music. For fuck’s sake. Who the hell even likes drum and base anymore? Is she from the 90’s?
Also, whenever anybody says they want to be friends, they don’t mean it. Why the fuck bother with the thinly veiled nicety. Just be honest. Actually, that’s ironic, because one of the things I thought I admired about her was her honesty. It seems like I was wrong about that too.
She’s pretty, I’ll give her that, but when you have almost no interests in common, then it’s not enough.
It should also be added that when I was trying to decide whether I was going to break up with my last proper girlfriend, I made a list of pros and cons, so at least I’ve learnt that I haven’t really changed at all.
Frankly I felt like it was going way too slow. We’d only seen each other once a week. I would have liked to see her more often.
Anyway, this was my response. I wrote it within about 30 minutes of getting her email.
“It’s ok. For some reason I kind of figured that was the case. There was just something that stopped me from feeling entirely comfortable. Maybe that came across in how I’ve acted around you? I can’t be sure though.
I know this is probably going to be an awkward question, but what was it that finally made you come to that decision? I think I have a fair idea, but I’d kind of just like to hear your reasons. I suppose I’d like to know where I went wrong really. Anyway, if you don’t really feel like talking about it all, then I understand, but in the past I’ve regretted not asking the question and I thought it might be easier to answer in an email.
I wondered, perhaps, if my situation (and I don’t just mean my obvious failings, like a lack of permanent regular work and being stuck here at home), didn’t really lend itself to this sort of thing. I won’t go into details though; that would possibly be a bit silly at this point.
I’m glad you had a good weekend though. It would be nice to meet up again some time, but you can let me know if that’s still something you’d want to do once you return from Turkey.
Anyway, some work finally came through for me, so at least I’ve got something to get on with.
Are you feeling okay after your fall the other day? I’m sorry I forgot to ask about that before.
Finally, I just wanted to say that I’ve had a really great time with you over these past few weeks, so thank you for that.”
Asking why was a bad idea, I know. But why not ask a bit if an impertinent question. She tried to bypass any awkwardness by writing me an email to dump me, so why not make her squirm a little. That wasn’t my intention at the time I wrote it; I really just wanted to know why, but I refuse to feel bad about asking when I only felt like I could because of the impersonal nature of emails and that, after all, was her chosen communication method, not mine.
Anyway, that’s it for today. What I’ve written above may not be all that coherent, but I just can’t check it over again.
By the way, on a lighter note, I actually got given the writing work that I have to do. It’ll be a measly amount in my account, but it’s certainly better than nothing. I should really get to it now.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
I have a bad feeling about this.
I’m starting to get that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The year seems to have started off so well, but I just get the impression it’s about to take a turn for the worse. I was on the train on the way out to a date with this girl I’ve been seeing. All day I hadn’t received a single email. As it turns out I must have had some sort of problem with hotmail because as soon as checked my email on my phone, a message came through from the woman who’s been giving me all this writing work. She had asked if I was free to do any work that day. I emailed straight back and said that I’d had a problem with my email but I’d be happy to get it done over the weekend. She emailed me back, and said she’d send the work over. It’s Tuesday now and I still haven’t received anything.
Not only that, my agency got in contact with me on Wednesday last week and told me about what sounded like a fantastic job. Of course I asked if they were sure I had the requisite experience. Yeah, you should be fine. Well, I wasn’t . They didn’t bother telling me what was going on, I had to ask. Now, believe it or not, the reason I didn’t quite cut it was (drum roll please), I didn’t have enough experience. You’d have thought they’d check these sort of things instead of blindly offering me what was obviously a job that, whilst not beyond my capabilities, was something that I would never be able to get. Better to have no hope at all than false hope.
Anyway, it’s all put me in such a morose mood. I feel like, work-wise, things are never going to work out. I’m perfectly capable of doing everything that I want to do. Quite why so few people have faith in my abilities I don’t know. The greatest tragedy is that of those few people, none are in a position to elevate me to the station that I deserve. And, conceited though it may sound, I do feel like I deserve it.
Anyway, I’ve been ok for most of the day, but then this feeling washed over me as I put the rubbish out to be recycled (I don’t think that symbolic or anything, but it sounds like it should be). I suddenly felt like everything was going to shit. Yesterday I was getting hugely paranoid about not having received a reply over the weekend to a text I sent this girl I’m seeing. So, on Monday evening, I texted her again. This time, she replied (I’m guessing that, because I sent it really late, she didn’t get it until later and then forgot about replying). Then I sent her an email about going out on either Wednesday, Friday or Saturday. I figured out a bunch of things that we could do too. Of course, as yet, I’ve heard nothing. Again, she’s probably busy and just hasn’t had the time to reply, but I can’t help but think that she doesn’t really want to see me again. It’s stupid, maybe, but if I just concentrate on some of the negative things I may have possibly imagined she’d said and ignore all the positive stuff, it’s definitely easy to come to that conclusion.
God, being mentally ill really screws you up sometimes.
Then again, one of the days I’d suggested was tomorrow, so maybe I should have heard from her by now. Aaarrrh. For Christ’s sake, why the hell can’t I just calm down. If I just had something else to do, like this damn writing work that I’m still waiting for, it wouldn’t matter so much to me. Well, it would matter to me, but I certainly wouldn’t be fixating on it if I had something else with which to occupy my mind. Unfortunately, none of the menial tasks I could be doing around the house really do that.
Anyway, on the plus side, I’ve started to do some exercise again. I feel like I’ve been getting really fat and unfit of late. Even climbing up the escalators at underground stations was getting to be a bit of a chore, so it was clearly way past time to get started. Besides, if I’m wrong, and things aren’t over with the girl I’m seeing, nakedness will, at some point, ensue, and I’d definitely like to wobble a little less when (or if) that happens.
In the meantime, I can only hope that I get the work through and that I actually hear from the girl again.
Not only that, my agency got in contact with me on Wednesday last week and told me about what sounded like a fantastic job. Of course I asked if they were sure I had the requisite experience. Yeah, you should be fine. Well, I wasn’t . They didn’t bother telling me what was going on, I had to ask. Now, believe it or not, the reason I didn’t quite cut it was (drum roll please), I didn’t have enough experience. You’d have thought they’d check these sort of things instead of blindly offering me what was obviously a job that, whilst not beyond my capabilities, was something that I would never be able to get. Better to have no hope at all than false hope.
Anyway, it’s all put me in such a morose mood. I feel like, work-wise, things are never going to work out. I’m perfectly capable of doing everything that I want to do. Quite why so few people have faith in my abilities I don’t know. The greatest tragedy is that of those few people, none are in a position to elevate me to the station that I deserve. And, conceited though it may sound, I do feel like I deserve it.
Anyway, I’ve been ok for most of the day, but then this feeling washed over me as I put the rubbish out to be recycled (I don’t think that symbolic or anything, but it sounds like it should be). I suddenly felt like everything was going to shit. Yesterday I was getting hugely paranoid about not having received a reply over the weekend to a text I sent this girl I’m seeing. So, on Monday evening, I texted her again. This time, she replied (I’m guessing that, because I sent it really late, she didn’t get it until later and then forgot about replying). Then I sent her an email about going out on either Wednesday, Friday or Saturday. I figured out a bunch of things that we could do too. Of course, as yet, I’ve heard nothing. Again, she’s probably busy and just hasn’t had the time to reply, but I can’t help but think that she doesn’t really want to see me again. It’s stupid, maybe, but if I just concentrate on some of the negative things I may have possibly imagined she’d said and ignore all the positive stuff, it’s definitely easy to come to that conclusion.
God, being mentally ill really screws you up sometimes.
Then again, one of the days I’d suggested was tomorrow, so maybe I should have heard from her by now. Aaarrrh. For Christ’s sake, why the hell can’t I just calm down. If I just had something else to do, like this damn writing work that I’m still waiting for, it wouldn’t matter so much to me. Well, it would matter to me, but I certainly wouldn’t be fixating on it if I had something else with which to occupy my mind. Unfortunately, none of the menial tasks I could be doing around the house really do that.
Anyway, on the plus side, I’ve started to do some exercise again. I feel like I’ve been getting really fat and unfit of late. Even climbing up the escalators at underground stations was getting to be a bit of a chore, so it was clearly way past time to get started. Besides, if I’m wrong, and things aren’t over with the girl I’m seeing, nakedness will, at some point, ensue, and I’d definitely like to wobble a little less when (or if) that happens.
In the meantime, I can only hope that I get the work through and that I actually hear from the girl again.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Feeling Anxious
A couple of my news posts have been put up on the website of the company for which I'm currently working.
This has actually raised a few issues for me.
1, I completely failed to negotiate payment for them. This was a bit stupid on my part, but I was so flattered and excited to be asked that I really didn't think.
2, They've been slightly re-written. I'm really not fond of having my work re-jigged by anyone else, especially when the changes actually make things slightly worse. Once could argue that, once I've given over the work she can do whatever she likes with it. She has, after all, paid for it. Except, of course, she hasn't.
3, I'm not getting enough work. I'm just waiting around for her to call me up with extra work and I'm hopelessly grateful when I receive it. I need a full time job, it's as simple as that. I need to get a proper salary and move out.
4, I need to start writing this script. It's just important.
Over the last few nights I've been having some anxiety problems. Some tightness in my throat, headaches and sleepless nights. I think it's because of this lack of security and worry about when I'm going to get my next work. I'd be happy if I was working an awful lot, but I'm not.
On a lighter note, I had another good date tonight and it looks like I'll be seeing her again on Saturday.
I need to sleep. Saturday might be starting quite early.
This has actually raised a few issues for me.
1, I completely failed to negotiate payment for them. This was a bit stupid on my part, but I was so flattered and excited to be asked that I really didn't think.
2, They've been slightly re-written. I'm really not fond of having my work re-jigged by anyone else, especially when the changes actually make things slightly worse. Once could argue that, once I've given over the work she can do whatever she likes with it. She has, after all, paid for it. Except, of course, she hasn't.
3, I'm not getting enough work. I'm just waiting around for her to call me up with extra work and I'm hopelessly grateful when I receive it. I need a full time job, it's as simple as that. I need to get a proper salary and move out.
4, I need to start writing this script. It's just important.
Over the last few nights I've been having some anxiety problems. Some tightness in my throat, headaches and sleepless nights. I think it's because of this lack of security and worry about when I'm going to get my next work. I'd be happy if I was working an awful lot, but I'm not.
On a lighter note, I had another good date tonight and it looks like I'll be seeing her again on Saturday.
I need to sleep. Saturday might be starting quite early.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
It's getting better all the time
I’m at least mildly irritating myself this week because, thus far, I’ve completely failed to write any of my screenplay. I have, however, written an awful lot of stuff for which I have (or at least soon will be) paid.
I rather like the idea that I can work without having to bother changing out of my pyjamas (actually a t-shirt/shorts combo). I’ve always hated the routine nature of commuting to work. After a while it gets terribly tiresome having to walk past the same old people. The businessman (if I were Japanese I might just describe him as being a salary man) with his briefcase, the incredibly tally blonde girl (she is, I’m pretty sure, a little taller than me), all of the mother’s taking their kids to school. It just becomes tedious after a while.
With things as they are now, I can just work as and when I feel like it. Often that means waking up at 2pm and working until 4am, and that suits me fine. Routine really isn’t my thing. I just get bored.
Still, my last job did have some advantages. Without it I wouldn’t have met the girl I’m currently seeing (and, after a week of not seeing her, we’re finally meeting up this coming Thursday).
I’m actually quite happy to see my life continue in a similar vein. Of course, I still want to move out, but I really hope that I can somehow get enough money to do that without having to set foot in an office again, at least not in the standard 9-5 way.
I really should have given this all a go years ago. I’ve kind of wasted myself on crappy, unfulfilling jobs that were, if I’m not being too big headed, well beneath me. Well, certainly not suited to my talents anyway.
Of course, I’m still worried about my burgeoning relationship with this new girl. I actually fancied her since the moment she entered the office. I’m trying to play it cool of course, but cool really isn’t my thing, especially after a few drinks.
Actually, that’s precisely why I hate these early stages; It’s all is about pretence and games-playing; honesty really seldom comes into it. I feel like I’m trying to project an image of myself that, although certainly represents a facet of my personality, doesn’t really show the full picture. But you just can’t be upfront about all your craziness can you? That would just put people off. Wouldn’t it?
She likes that I’m smart, she likes my “very blue eyes”. She really seems to have a genuine interest in me, but would she really like me if she knew everything there was to know right away?
I really do like her. She’s gorgeous. She has a great outlook on life. She’s actually one of the few people I’ve met who’s not criticised me for using long words. On the contrary, she’s gone away and looked them up or asked what the meant and seemed genuinely interested in the answer.
In some ways, that’s her quality that I most admire. So many people shy away from knowledge; she seems to embrace it.
I think she’s fantastic.
Anyway, enough. I’m a little cold and a touch drunk. It’s time to stop blogging. I should hide myself under the covers, keep warm and drift off to sleep. Tomorrow I have to finish off my remaining work. After that I can look forward to my first cheque. Once I’ve got that I suppose I can actually genuinely call myself a professional writer.
I do hope all this makes sense. Just bear in mind that I'm posting this immediately after a long drinking session and it's quarter to three in the morning.
I rather like the idea that I can work without having to bother changing out of my pyjamas (actually a t-shirt/shorts combo). I’ve always hated the routine nature of commuting to work. After a while it gets terribly tiresome having to walk past the same old people. The businessman (if I were Japanese I might just describe him as being a salary man) with his briefcase, the incredibly tally blonde girl (she is, I’m pretty sure, a little taller than me), all of the mother’s taking their kids to school. It just becomes tedious after a while.
With things as they are now, I can just work as and when I feel like it. Often that means waking up at 2pm and working until 4am, and that suits me fine. Routine really isn’t my thing. I just get bored.
Still, my last job did have some advantages. Without it I wouldn’t have met the girl I’m currently seeing (and, after a week of not seeing her, we’re finally meeting up this coming Thursday).
I’m actually quite happy to see my life continue in a similar vein. Of course, I still want to move out, but I really hope that I can somehow get enough money to do that without having to set foot in an office again, at least not in the standard 9-5 way.
I really should have given this all a go years ago. I’ve kind of wasted myself on crappy, unfulfilling jobs that were, if I’m not being too big headed, well beneath me. Well, certainly not suited to my talents anyway.
Of course, I’m still worried about my burgeoning relationship with this new girl. I actually fancied her since the moment she entered the office. I’m trying to play it cool of course, but cool really isn’t my thing, especially after a few drinks.
Actually, that’s precisely why I hate these early stages; It’s all is about pretence and games-playing; honesty really seldom comes into it. I feel like I’m trying to project an image of myself that, although certainly represents a facet of my personality, doesn’t really show the full picture. But you just can’t be upfront about all your craziness can you? That would just put people off. Wouldn’t it?
She likes that I’m smart, she likes my “very blue eyes”. She really seems to have a genuine interest in me, but would she really like me if she knew everything there was to know right away?
I really do like her. She’s gorgeous. She has a great outlook on life. She’s actually one of the few people I’ve met who’s not criticised me for using long words. On the contrary, she’s gone away and looked them up or asked what the meant and seemed genuinely interested in the answer.
In some ways, that’s her quality that I most admire. So many people shy away from knowledge; she seems to embrace it.
I think she’s fantastic.
Anyway, enough. I’m a little cold and a touch drunk. It’s time to stop blogging. I should hide myself under the covers, keep warm and drift off to sleep. Tomorrow I have to finish off my remaining work. After that I can look forward to my first cheque. Once I’ve got that I suppose I can actually genuinely call myself a professional writer.
I do hope all this makes sense. Just bear in mind that I'm posting this immediately after a long drinking session and it's quarter to three in the morning.
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Early Retirement
I think I may stop playing video games for a while. I just don't really seem to be getting the same enjoyment out of them as I used to. I actually had this theory that my ability to enjoy video games goes in cycles. I have a few years where I absolutely love them, followed by a period of time where I just can't be bothered. Like I said, I'd always assumed it was a cyclical thing, but I get the impression that I may have been a bit wrong.
Obviously, now that I'm earning a little bit of money by writing about video games this whole situation is could probably prove to be a bit of an inconvenience. Actually, I think that the real irony of the situation is that it's precisely because I've got the job writing about video games that I'm a bit bored with playing them.
Anyway, this is how my new, revised theory about my gaming habits goes...
I only play games when I'm bored and unhappy.
I had a spell of uninterrupted gaming from about the age of three, when an Atari 2600 first materialised in my house, right up until I was nineteen playing Mario Kart on my Super Nintendo. So, the question is, what happened when I was nineteen?
Well, for one thing, during the course of a time trial challenge of Mario Circuit 1, my lap time was beaten by precisely 0.1 seconds. As hard as I tried, I simply could not beat my opponent’s time of 1.11.77. You may ask how it is that, twelve years later, I can remember the exact winning time. After all, I'm not some rain main style numerical genius. No, instead, to compound his supremacy, the winning time matched exactly my date of birth. Sure, in the year or so that followed, I played a few of the old school Lucasarts graphic adventures, but for the most part, my passion for gaming was extinguished right there.
So, I don't like getting beaten. That's one reason. The next is, I believe, the main impetus behind my temporary retirement from gaming. I started to have a life. That particular game of Mario Kart was played within the confines of my room in my Hall of Residence. I was away from home, away from the tedium of my boring little suburban town, free to do whatever I wanted to do. And what did I want to do? I wanted to go out every night.
Before then, my friends had always been dreary and dull. I never felt like I was on quite the same level as them. I don’t think I mean that I was better than them, just different. I remember thinking, on one occasion as I sat in from of a computer in my friend’s bedroom (it may have been during one of our many LAN Parties where we’d each take out computers round to each others houses, network them together and play Doom), I wished that I could just write their dialogue for them. As far as I was concerned, they never seemed to give what I would consider to be the correct response to anything I might say. Things that seemed obvious to me simply passed them by. I remember suggesting that we should maybe go to see a band some time. It just went completely over their heads. They stared at me briefly before returning their gaze to their computer screens. I didn’t bother suggesting anything ever again.
Actually, one of them contacted me on Facebook a little while ago. We chatted a little, caught up with things. He’s married with kids and a dog and living in Milton Keynes. All quite pleasant stuff. He’s a computer programmer, which I guess kind of figures because that was the sort of thing he was always in to. He sounded like he was really happy. I didn’t add him as a friend. I suppose if I’d wanted to remain in contact with him I would’ve bothered a lot sooner, but I left him and the rest of it all behind when I moved away to university.
I came back home for the first weekend after I started uni. I think a lot of people thought I wouldn’t return. It was, remember, only 3 weeks since my Dad had died, and I wasn’t really coping too well. Anyway, when I got back home, I found out that the aforementioned friend had come back from his university on Thursday. He’d decided not to return having found the place depressing because of the “breeze block walls” in his room in halls. We met up on the Friday night in a pub just down the road from me, “The Rayners”, which is now boarded up awaiting a council planning decision that will probably turn it into flats.
I’d decided that I’d try to convince him to go back. I thought that if he didn’t stay he’d really be missing out. After all, my Hall of residence was entirely composed of breeze blocks, but you couldn’t see them once you’d put your posters up.
When I arrived he was there with someone else, someone whom I later discovered was a gay friend whom he’d met god knows when and where.
So, I waxed lyrical about how great university was and how he ought to give it another try. I wasn’t really sure if I was getting through to him, but I was really determined to try. He popped off to the loo and, as soon as he was gone, his mate started having a go at me. He told me to shut up about university. He said that my friend was better off back home. I disagreed quite fervently. I reasoned that my friend was just a little timid and fearful of change, but, in the long run he’d be better off if he didn’t drop out. I had my mate’s best interests at heart, the other guy simply didn’t want him to go back for what I assumed must have been his own selfish reasons.
My friend returned from the toilet and sat back down. I headed off to the loo myself and by the time I came back, there’d obviously been some sort of discussion, judging by the conspiratorial look on the faces of my drinking companions.
What happened next was a bit of a shock; my friend’s companion touched up my leg. I recoiled immediately. The pair laughed away. Clearly they had set their minds to unsettle me. They’d succeeded. You have to remember, at the time I was only 18 and a little less able to deal with unfamiliar situations than I am now. Let’s face it, at the age of 18, when you haven’t so much as kissed a girl, you’re going to be suffering from a fair amount of insecurity about your sexuality. Not only that, as I mentioned before, my Dad had died only three weeks earlier, so I was already in a poor state of mind.
I left the pub pretty quickly. I never saw my friend again and didn’t hear from him until he communicated with me through Facebook a few months ago.
On the plus side, I guess the whole experience confirmed that I really wouldn’t be fond of the intimate touch of another man. It also confirmed that my ex-friend was a git.
Regular readers will be well aware of my, as it turned out, quite unnecessary panicking earlier in the week. Fortunately, on Friday, I ended up meeting up with the lovely girl I’ve been seeing lately. I had a really amazing time; I just wish that it hadn’t been brought to what I considered to be a bit of a premature ending. London Transport are, quite frankly, a massive pain in the arse. Why on Earth can’t they run the tube later? That’s sort of a rhetorical question because I am aware that they close the tube to maintain the lines, but surely they don’t have to do that every night on every stretch of rail? Is their workmanship of such poor quality that as single days use might break it apart?
Anyway, the night felt like it was over far too soon. I could have happily stayed out for many hours more. Of course, it started with a bit of dramatically bad navigation on my part. Somehow, I managed to get lost trying to find the Millennium Bridge from St Paul’s Station. It’s never been a problem for me before, so quite why it had to happen when I was trying to be impressive is beyond me. Actually, scratch that, I think that, with that last sentence, I’ve just answered my own question. That and it was dark, so everything might have looked just that little bit different. I’m just making excuses now aren’t I?
Today I’ve been mulling over all the mistakes I made and analysing all the stupid things I might have said during the course of the evening, but I know that, ultimately, all the recriminations are completely pointless. The only thing that matters is that I didn’t bugger it up so much that she didn’t want to see me again. She definitely does want to see me, she mentioned a next time in her text after the date, but quite when that’ll come I don’t know. I know that she’s pretty busy next week, so I’m not sure they’ll be an opportunity go out. Then again she was busy this week too, but she still managed to find some time. I suppose that’s probably a good sign too.
Actually, it’s my navigational ineptitude that provided the final impetus to upgrade my phone to one that actually has GPS. I’ve been rather keen on the idea of having a phone with GPS for quite some time now. I also quite fancied moving to a tariff that would provide me with inclusive internet access and some minutes that I could use during the day and with any network that I like. Well now (or soon, presuming they don’t mind sending me my upgrade a week early) I can do all of those things, albeit at the cost of £30 a month and a 2 year contract. So I can’t upgrade for two years. For as long as I’ve had phones, I’ve been upgrading my mobile more or less every year, so I’m a little worried that I’m going to become fed up with my new phone before the time is up. Well, we’ll see, but I should say at this point that I’m currently using my old K800, which I got way back at the end of 2006, because my current phone has a crappy flash and keeps switching itself off at random, inconvenient moments. I think I’ll see if I can try to peddle it to Computer Exchange next week. That and everything else I don’t want and can’t be bothered to sell on eBay.
Anyway, the point I was trying to make about fifty paragraphs ago is that now, once more, I feel like hanging up my joypad. Of course, that, if you really want to take the metaphor literally, will no doubt be more difficult than before because all my consoles controllers are wireless and therefore have no leads by which they can be hung. In all fairness, I’m not quite at the point where I want to stop playing video games, but I’m definitely heading quite rapidly in that direction. With all the writing work that I’m getting (with more to follow hopefully), my new adventures in dating and even this blogging, I have neither the time, nor, indeed, the inclination, for gaming. With everything else I get a sense that I’m actually getting somewhere, I gain a sense of achievement. With gaming, all I have is a sense of frustration and annoyance. Xbox live achievements and gamerpoints simply aren’t enough to motivate me. Honestly, I can’t see why you’d bother to do it at all if you have anything even vaguely better to do.
I should add, that I’m also trying to work on a script idea that one of my mate’s came up with. I’ll see if I can get at least 5-10 pages done to show him next week, so at least he can see if I’m on the right sort of track.
Obviously, now that I'm earning a little bit of money by writing about video games this whole situation is could probably prove to be a bit of an inconvenience. Actually, I think that the real irony of the situation is that it's precisely because I've got the job writing about video games that I'm a bit bored with playing them.
Anyway, this is how my new, revised theory about my gaming habits goes...
I only play games when I'm bored and unhappy.
I had a spell of uninterrupted gaming from about the age of three, when an Atari 2600 first materialised in my house, right up until I was nineteen playing Mario Kart on my Super Nintendo. So, the question is, what happened when I was nineteen?
Well, for one thing, during the course of a time trial challenge of Mario Circuit 1, my lap time was beaten by precisely 0.1 seconds. As hard as I tried, I simply could not beat my opponent’s time of 1.11.77. You may ask how it is that, twelve years later, I can remember the exact winning time. After all, I'm not some rain main style numerical genius. No, instead, to compound his supremacy, the winning time matched exactly my date of birth. Sure, in the year or so that followed, I played a few of the old school Lucasarts graphic adventures, but for the most part, my passion for gaming was extinguished right there.
So, I don't like getting beaten. That's one reason. The next is, I believe, the main impetus behind my temporary retirement from gaming. I started to have a life. That particular game of Mario Kart was played within the confines of my room in my Hall of Residence. I was away from home, away from the tedium of my boring little suburban town, free to do whatever I wanted to do. And what did I want to do? I wanted to go out every night.
Before then, my friends had always been dreary and dull. I never felt like I was on quite the same level as them. I don’t think I mean that I was better than them, just different. I remember thinking, on one occasion as I sat in from of a computer in my friend’s bedroom (it may have been during one of our many LAN Parties where we’d each take out computers round to each others houses, network them together and play Doom), I wished that I could just write their dialogue for them. As far as I was concerned, they never seemed to give what I would consider to be the correct response to anything I might say. Things that seemed obvious to me simply passed them by. I remember suggesting that we should maybe go to see a band some time. It just went completely over their heads. They stared at me briefly before returning their gaze to their computer screens. I didn’t bother suggesting anything ever again.
Actually, one of them contacted me on Facebook a little while ago. We chatted a little, caught up with things. He’s married with kids and a dog and living in Milton Keynes. All quite pleasant stuff. He’s a computer programmer, which I guess kind of figures because that was the sort of thing he was always in to. He sounded like he was really happy. I didn’t add him as a friend. I suppose if I’d wanted to remain in contact with him I would’ve bothered a lot sooner, but I left him and the rest of it all behind when I moved away to university.
I came back home for the first weekend after I started uni. I think a lot of people thought I wouldn’t return. It was, remember, only 3 weeks since my Dad had died, and I wasn’t really coping too well. Anyway, when I got back home, I found out that the aforementioned friend had come back from his university on Thursday. He’d decided not to return having found the place depressing because of the “breeze block walls” in his room in halls. We met up on the Friday night in a pub just down the road from me, “The Rayners”, which is now boarded up awaiting a council planning decision that will probably turn it into flats.
I’d decided that I’d try to convince him to go back. I thought that if he didn’t stay he’d really be missing out. After all, my Hall of residence was entirely composed of breeze blocks, but you couldn’t see them once you’d put your posters up.
When I arrived he was there with someone else, someone whom I later discovered was a gay friend whom he’d met god knows when and where.
So, I waxed lyrical about how great university was and how he ought to give it another try. I wasn’t really sure if I was getting through to him, but I was really determined to try. He popped off to the loo and, as soon as he was gone, his mate started having a go at me. He told me to shut up about university. He said that my friend was better off back home. I disagreed quite fervently. I reasoned that my friend was just a little timid and fearful of change, but, in the long run he’d be better off if he didn’t drop out. I had my mate’s best interests at heart, the other guy simply didn’t want him to go back for what I assumed must have been his own selfish reasons.
My friend returned from the toilet and sat back down. I headed off to the loo myself and by the time I came back, there’d obviously been some sort of discussion, judging by the conspiratorial look on the faces of my drinking companions.
What happened next was a bit of a shock; my friend’s companion touched up my leg. I recoiled immediately. The pair laughed away. Clearly they had set their minds to unsettle me. They’d succeeded. You have to remember, at the time I was only 18 and a little less able to deal with unfamiliar situations than I am now. Let’s face it, at the age of 18, when you haven’t so much as kissed a girl, you’re going to be suffering from a fair amount of insecurity about your sexuality. Not only that, as I mentioned before, my Dad had died only three weeks earlier, so I was already in a poor state of mind.
I left the pub pretty quickly. I never saw my friend again and didn’t hear from him until he communicated with me through Facebook a few months ago.
On the plus side, I guess the whole experience confirmed that I really wouldn’t be fond of the intimate touch of another man. It also confirmed that my ex-friend was a git.
Regular readers will be well aware of my, as it turned out, quite unnecessary panicking earlier in the week. Fortunately, on Friday, I ended up meeting up with the lovely girl I’ve been seeing lately. I had a really amazing time; I just wish that it hadn’t been brought to what I considered to be a bit of a premature ending. London Transport are, quite frankly, a massive pain in the arse. Why on Earth can’t they run the tube later? That’s sort of a rhetorical question because I am aware that they close the tube to maintain the lines, but surely they don’t have to do that every night on every stretch of rail? Is their workmanship of such poor quality that as single days use might break it apart?
Anyway, the night felt like it was over far too soon. I could have happily stayed out for many hours more. Of course, it started with a bit of dramatically bad navigation on my part. Somehow, I managed to get lost trying to find the Millennium Bridge from St Paul’s Station. It’s never been a problem for me before, so quite why it had to happen when I was trying to be impressive is beyond me. Actually, scratch that, I think that, with that last sentence, I’ve just answered my own question. That and it was dark, so everything might have looked just that little bit different. I’m just making excuses now aren’t I?
Today I’ve been mulling over all the mistakes I made and analysing all the stupid things I might have said during the course of the evening, but I know that, ultimately, all the recriminations are completely pointless. The only thing that matters is that I didn’t bugger it up so much that she didn’t want to see me again. She definitely does want to see me, she mentioned a next time in her text after the date, but quite when that’ll come I don’t know. I know that she’s pretty busy next week, so I’m not sure they’ll be an opportunity go out. Then again she was busy this week too, but she still managed to find some time. I suppose that’s probably a good sign too.
Actually, it’s my navigational ineptitude that provided the final impetus to upgrade my phone to one that actually has GPS. I’ve been rather keen on the idea of having a phone with GPS for quite some time now. I also quite fancied moving to a tariff that would provide me with inclusive internet access and some minutes that I could use during the day and with any network that I like. Well now (or soon, presuming they don’t mind sending me my upgrade a week early) I can do all of those things, albeit at the cost of £30 a month and a 2 year contract. So I can’t upgrade for two years. For as long as I’ve had phones, I’ve been upgrading my mobile more or less every year, so I’m a little worried that I’m going to become fed up with my new phone before the time is up. Well, we’ll see, but I should say at this point that I’m currently using my old K800, which I got way back at the end of 2006, because my current phone has a crappy flash and keeps switching itself off at random, inconvenient moments. I think I’ll see if I can try to peddle it to Computer Exchange next week. That and everything else I don’t want and can’t be bothered to sell on eBay.
Anyway, the point I was trying to make about fifty paragraphs ago is that now, once more, I feel like hanging up my joypad. Of course, that, if you really want to take the metaphor literally, will no doubt be more difficult than before because all my consoles controllers are wireless and therefore have no leads by which they can be hung. In all fairness, I’m not quite at the point where I want to stop playing video games, but I’m definitely heading quite rapidly in that direction. With all the writing work that I’m getting (with more to follow hopefully), my new adventures in dating and even this blogging, I have neither the time, nor, indeed, the inclination, for gaming. With everything else I get a sense that I’m actually getting somewhere, I gain a sense of achievement. With gaming, all I have is a sense of frustration and annoyance. Xbox live achievements and gamerpoints simply aren’t enough to motivate me. Honestly, I can’t see why you’d bother to do it at all if you have anything even vaguely better to do.
I should add, that I’m also trying to work on a script idea that one of my mate’s came up with. I’ll see if I can get at least 5-10 pages done to show him next week, so at least he can see if I’m on the right sort of track.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Jumping to the worst case scenario
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.
But enough blog posting, there's work to be done.
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