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So it begins. A day not unlike any other, complete with familiar fuzzy head and inescapable guilt at the overindulgence of last night. I blink slowly, rolling the thought up in my eyelids. Yet something about today feels momentous and empowering. I canít stop thinking about business cards. Promoting myself. Really cool business cards that scream at people ĎI AM COOL, YOU WANT ME TO WRITE FOR YOUí. Breathe. Suddenly it seems possible, like this card is the key, it will overcome my frustration at not writing, even though writing is my work, my life, I am never writing enough.
As the sun shines surprisingly on what should be a cold February day, the butterflies of anticipation that occupy my stomach extend their lease and continue to reside inside me. I canít escape the feeling of potential. Potential that needs nurturing, but potential all the same. Besides, Iím ready for the responsibility of nurturing, less restricted by the fear of failing. Itís as if someone is holding my ribcage, helping me breath. Rocking with me gently, tickling the spot deep within my stomach, then out from either side of my spine and round to the middle again. Feels like magic...
Today is irregularly bright and spontaneous in nature as I follow my heart to reconnect with people and places. Watching ĎBrechtí I am reminded of the sad dependency on daily distractions that silently screen reality; the abundance of empty words spoken for the sake of speaking. Suddenly I feel aware of how consciously I want to live. Conversation is stimulating but momentary. As wake from my thought to see an old guy struggle up what must seem like a mountain of stairs, I curse myself for how much complaining I do when I canít think of anything better to say.
Each day I am reassured further that trusting my instincts makes life easier. With just little nudges and by not allowing panic or fear of judgement cloud my vision, I am guided by something great. Not only is everything more enjoyable when we acknowledge that we deserve to spend our time in the way that we have chosen, but I can feel energy radiate from life in otherwise forgettable moments. From the perfectly fitting new jeans my friend gave me yesterday, to smiles, shared eye contact or laughter, all make you feel more connected to the planet we live on.
Again I am feeling optimistic about life. I think itís partly because I am excited about my new jeans and also that I am open to new ideas today. I faced my prejudices while trying to see the good in people I had found as irritating as an itch you canít precisely locate. Then these people surprised me by demonstrating fair and kind gestures when I least expected it. When you start to say goodbye to negative thoughts they seem to stop breeding pretty quickly, and you donít miss them, except that you have to try harder to be funny!
Disillusioned now. I pick great ideas as if fruit from trees and I can envisage how to fulfill them. Opportunity feels abundant, but I am prematurely yearning for a sense of accomplishment. Making lists helps to feel in control, but they are mere stepping-stones; effort has to be made to cross them. Muscle needs to develop, requiring hard work and discipline. I get the metaphors, I get the idea, I need to get some things done. I find myself wondering if there will ever be a time when Iíll turn around and think to myself, Ďwow I
Frustration begins bubbling in my stomach, slowly and steadily rising up through my solar plexus to my heart, by which point I am suppressing a scream. Why does EVERYTHING seem to be happening so slowly? I am waiting, wanting, to achieve. I burn with each squandered minute, but am running out of steam. I canít afford to waste time, yet I find myself wanting to close my eyes for a moment and let my head drop. S-OÖ.S-L-E-E-P-YÖ. Right. Pep talk. Stick to the plan. One step at a time. A little activity each day canít take me nowhere, can it?
I feel like Iím getting used to having lots to do. Inside my head Iím a high flyer, constantly thinking about the next thing I need to achieve, sighing with satisfaction after I make the slightest pigeon step towards my goal. Whizzing off another email, making another contact. It feels good. Iím still drinking too much though, socialising when I should be at home in front of the computerÖIn some ways I suppose I should make the most of it, I could find myself longing for opportunities like this in the future, when Iím too busy to see my friendsÖ
The end of the week graces us with its presence again. Slightly bittersweet as I celebrated the coming of Friday while it was still Thursday. Luckily it feels like there are more than just 52 in a year. I promise myself to enjoy Thursday night a little less next week. ItĎs like secretly opening a Christmas present prematurely, scoffing chocolate before breakfast. Rules that were forced upon us as children translate to the discipline of adult life. Ignore those helpful instructions and itís as if cheating yourself of a genuine moment. I preferred it when that was someone elseís responsibility.
100 words starting with few beers washed down with a few of something elseÖand now 4 am is here and it feels like itís been a long time coming. Somehow I feel one hundred words may be hard to find, as I desperately try to stop myself dreaming of being warm in bed. My hands feel cold and I have to squint to see the picture on the screen. A hysterical sister lies behind me. She exits. ďI canít stay with you,Ē sheís cracking up. Maybe we all are slowly. Or maybe I just have one hundred words to fill.
I sit here piecing the events of last night back together. I donít think I visited anywhere too unsavoury and I can remember having a fair bit of fun along the way. Iím thinking about the week thatís on the horizon, mine for the taking and Iím going to enjoy it. By way of compensation for my recent over-consumption, Iím already running through unrealistic promises of staying in for the foreseeable eternity. Either way, Iím determined to enjoy it and slow time by consciously invoking my senses. I sit at my sisterís desk thinking about following my instincts more closely.
My last few instalments have been clouded by toxic substances and hysteria, for which lack of sleep is responsible. I know I am not going to achieve satisfaction today, as my salivation kicks into overdrive at the thought of dinner and I still suffer from the consequences of over-indulging for the last five days. Whatís worse is that during this rehabilitation period I will remain distanced from development, focused on tiny Ďbite-sizedí specifics in order to make life make sense. Thereís no time or pre-occupation to think of the bigger picture. Itís out there but I canít see it today.
Not enough hours in the day springs to mind! Itís my turn to cook, I still have at least three emails to reply toÖ maybe Iíll turn over a new blunt personalityÖ doubly beneficial to me as people will choose not to email me again Ö And I happen to be the hairiest I have been in my life EVER, well since I discovered waxing and that is a situation that must be remedied before tomorrow because I cannot have my boyfriend getting confused about whether heís meant to be writing a Valentineís card to his girlfriend or a yetiÖ
When you think about things too much, you almost curse them. Today I was in tears before 9am and I carried it with me all day. It was definitely a Ďpoor meí day. Yes, everyone else in the world had huge flowers and I was the only one who was not going to have even a card. And instead of contacting the person who had caused this submergence (who was trying in vain to contact me and apologise all day), I stewedÖ. only to arrive home to a lovely dinner and a written apology. (I did get a Valentineís Card).
Life has a funny way of keeping you distracted while it creeps by. Before you know it, itís dark outside and the seasons have changed again. I suddenly appreciate the perspective that can be bestowed on you having had to dredge yourself up form a difficult place, where time is almost still. When youíre on the way up it feels like youíre breathing more slowly and life is played at a gentle speed so you are able to build a clearer picture of how things really are. Whether itís good or bad, you kind of Ďgetí how life just Ďisí.
YES! Itís Friday. A Friday thatís filled with anticipation of what the weekend will hold. Iím feeling so excited about a Burlesque evening thatís happening in honour of Katieís birthday that Iím going to rediscover my girlie glamorous side in a hurry tonight. Itís always better when thereís a feeling of celebration in the air and although I could have done more today, I still have the weekend to come up with some amazing straplines and concept outlines. Thatís the great reassurance that comes with choosing to take your work home so you can bunk off early to the pub!
Ouuccchhhhhh! What a hugely over-sized hangover for how mischievious I was not last night. Eeek, no movement of the head until 3pm, no movement from the bed till 4 and I was still contemplating dressing at 5.15pm when I received a phonecall telling me that I was expected for the next arrangement of my weekend! It turned out to be extremely worthwhile however, a fab evening filled with Street Dance, music and being warmed by watching what people we grew up with have achieved for themselves and the theatre-full of littluns whose lives they influence. Then we got drunk again.
Today is a day filled with relief that I feel no-where near as hideous as yesterday thanks to someone having the sense to convince me hometime was a goodtime. Funny how you can start out with the best intentions but people, strawberry beer, a few cigarettes and good conversation can convince you that you are happy for eternity! I was rewarded for my movement by not feeling sleepy till 6pm when with my sister. I might have made it longer than that but I am so natural with her that moods and emotions come and go like the tides.
Frustration builds in my stomach like a washing machine of angst thrashing around willing me to swear and curse and slag people off. AND the apostrophe key seems to have jumped off my keyboard, replaced with some hieroglyphic or other. I know sometimes people cannot help behaving in an inferior way, itįōs just they donįōt give a shit about anything and complacency breeds laziness, so you end up presenting something late thatįōs shit and makes you feel shit, because it looks shit and then youįōre still stuck at your desk till almost the middle of the night on your own.
After a leisurely lie in courtesy of a dentist appointment I soon became aware that every pleasure comes at a price. Not only did he confirm that my face is, in fact, being caused to swell by the two different types of bacteria that currently reside around my lower right wisdom tooth, he also charged me £15 for the privilege. He got a weird syringe and squirted antibiotics around before writing me a prescription. Then I went to the chemist and gave them £18; somehow Iíd spent £33 by lunchtime and had nothing but a frown to show for it.
As much as I hate to admit it and as hard as I try to fight it, there are people on this earth who REALLY annoy, irritate and irk me. They are not malicious or vindictive but everything about them somehow makes me feel begrudged for acknowledging that they are speaking by even blinking at them. I seriously think, ďYou annoy me so much, I canít bear to look at youĒ. Iím sure this is the stuff of bullying yet while I try to silence my internal monologue, it bubbles away out of control beneath my surface like excitable lava.
I feel cold, aching, nauseous and shivery today. These antibiotics are testing me with sickness and aching eye sockets, which has prompted me to wear sunglasses for the duration of the day. Iím quite enjoying the sunglasses though as people are looking at me in quite a bemused fashion. They arenít really questioning me directly but their glances are lingering, as if they want to ask but are contemplating that there may be a sinister reason for my disguise. I feel almost superhero properties; they feel like an invisible cloak that permits me to behave in a cheekier, charming fashion.
Sometimes I honestly think it wouldnít be so bad if I died. These thoughts scare me and in some ways trying to find out the cause scares me more. Is it that Iím a drama junkie, or wanting to hand over responsibility for my life, or is it you? Is it you that death would allow me to escape? I donít want this perpetual commentary on everything I do, constantly being measured up to your expectations. Sometimes I feel like every day is a battle and Iím waiting for the next eruption to occur. Or am I just being melodramatic?
Iím amazed by how much can be achieved when you put your mind to it. By that I mean, I wholeheartedly wished for something to happen and it did. The problem was that I didnít realise my dreams and desires were being heeded and stupidly failed to plan out the final stages of the scenario. So, after deciding the best present I could ever find for Richís birthday would be for him to meet Chris Eubank, a glimpse of him on the underground left me questioning myself, ďNow, where did I put that super cool, confident, interesting personality of mine?Ē
I searched myself for personality for a few moments and then thought, ďSod it!Ē I couldnít afford to miss this chance that I truly believed I had made through mountains of thought about the possibility of its occurrence.
ďExcuse me Christopher.Ē
I shouted, clearly. He stopped and pulled me aside for a second before I started babbling at 100 words a minute.
ďItís so strange I should bump into you...Ē
I began, going on to explain that my boyfriend had just finished reading his autobiography. I knew what outcome I wanted, but my heart was leaping and my speech felt unrehearsed.
Needless to say, I also failed to realise that the success of my Ďpitchí was also dependent on the mind of another human being. a human being who has one both the WBO Middleweight and Super Middleweight titles, a determined mind to say the least. So after a little more banter and rejecting my advances he obliged in a photograph that was accompanied by a half-hug. I smiled, said
and after a kiss on the cheek his train pulled up and the encounter was over. All that was left for me to do was pinch and kick myself.
The light here is ethereal, itís like Iím wearing sunglasses. Lisa thinks itís the end of the world but I doubt that. Sheís just still exhausted from, aerobics at lunchtime and has no energy to make sense. Itís just the fragile restyling of the skies that are often created at this time of year, when there are still a few dark weeks left, the sky signals that there will be brighter skies sometime soon. I am feeling hopeful, tonight may just be filled with the possibility that Iíll make a good start to the story thatís brewing inside. The End.
My principles have been tested to a minor degree today; more testing has been the digesting of a conversation with my mother last night. The voicemail said
"I need your help with something,"
which I should have interpreted without blinking as
"I need some money."
I was then told how if I could not afford it, not to worry, she could just stay in bed for a few weeks. (A nasty mental image interrupts.) Thatís a great thing to add to a conscience, which I wrestle with for a while, consequently, before deciding on what I already knew was inevitable.
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