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Well hellooo February! So here I am again.
You know what's weird, now that I have a job I don't hate, every weekday feels like Friday. Except Monday, that's still the same. But Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, they're all Fridays, only there's another Friday coming after them before the actual weekend.
And that thing about how time goes faster and faster as you get older? That is
so true. And pretty scary, cuz I'm only in my early thirties, so there's still plenty of time for life to accelerate even more!
And before you know it you're dead and gone.
My prevalent emotion seems to be anger. EVERYTHING ANNOYS ME! Some people say anger isn't an emotion at all, but a symptom of something else. Bullshit! I can tell you exactly what anger feels like.
I have a tattoo saying "Don't it make you wanna scream" on my right wrist. After I got it I wondered what would happen if I ever mellowed out and it would no longer apply. But I don't think I have to worry about that.
I don't LIKE being angry all the time tho, it pretty much sucks. Plus it's bad for your digestive system.
Today I have no words. It's stormy outside and I don't like it. If you remove the M from stormy you get story. But what to do with the extra M? Turn it upside down and you have a W. Such a complicatedly long letter. You know in French a "double-U" is a "double-V"? Which makes a lot more sense cuz they're pointy like Vs, they're not two Us at all. Well maybe handwritten they are. And Roman Us are the same as Vs. But which of the two is it? Where does that silly name come from?
Today I get to whinge. Headaches headaches headaches! I thought I'd beaten them but with the new job they've come back full force. It's getting so annoying I'm thinking of quitting if this doesn't improve. I DON'T WANT TO LIVE MY LIFE LIKE THIS, IT SUCKS!!!
I wanted to go swimming today but they were so bad I could only overdose and go to bed. I'll go tomorrow, maybe it will help (the headaches come from a bad back / neck y'see). Getting old is no fun, and looking after your body is BORING! Hm I'm in a great mood today. :|
You can be anything you want to be. At least in your dreams. I am awesome in my dreams! Someone asked me recently what my childhood dreams were, and I don't think I had any of those "normal" ones like being a doctor or a writer. I wanted to be a superheroine or a witch, or why not a goddess? I think there was a time when I believed this could actually be possible. I know better now, but in my dreams I am still all those things. Makes reality, where I am nothing much at all, much more bearable.
My grandad was in the resistance during WW2 and deported to a concentration camp. He wrote an account of it later for a national POW association and as I was leafing through my copy just now I found this note: "I wrote this little oeuvre mainly for you, so that you may know later what it was like during that period of 1940-1945."
This made me cry. Especially cuz I've never even read all of it. He died in 2000. I really should do him that honour, uh? (but I'm not that
!) I am a terrible grand-daughter.
When you look at yourself what do you see? Do you like the person looking back at you in the mirror? I know it's such a cliché, but godamnit if it doesn't make people's lives miserable.
Not everyone's allegedly. I've heard there are people who love themselves. I applaud them. And I envy them like hell.
Though truth be told, pride and self-congratulation rub me the wrong way, probably because they are so very foreign to me. Everyone should be ashamed of who they are and constantly wish they were someone else.
Just like me. Wouldn't that be fair?
Today was a beautiful day. Went for a walk on my lunchbreak, and I loved feeling the sun on my face. Gave me just a little taste of better times.
Hot summer days where you get to lie on the beach, sizzling in the noontime sun. Jumping in the sea and squealing as the waves carry you up and down, up and down. Going for bike rides, whizzing down hills to cool off your sweaty face.
I know all these things will come again, and I can't motherfucking wait cuz I am sick to death of this cold and misery!
I don't remember my father. He died in Vietnam when I was three. My mom remarried in 1969 and had two more sons. I was always her favorite though, a tender reminder of her Hank. They were childhood sweethearts, married at seventeen.
War is such a tragedy, you know? For everyone involved. I've seen so many vets, all of them broken men who couldn't make sense of life anymore. It's made me wonder if my dad wasn't the lucky one. He remains the idealized hero, forever young, handsome and full of promise.
But what a price we've had to pay.
I went to see Simon Amstell today, and I have decided that he is perfect. I must plot to kidnap him, it should be quite easy at those small gigs with next to no security. I'm not sure if he'd appreciate being kidnapped though. He might rather hate me for it, and then having him in my flat would be of no use. Also, my flat isn't very secure, he could escape via the fire escape or over the roof. So I guess I must resign myself to seeing him at his stand up gigs every once in a while.
Please note that following an end of year audit of our accounts there is a modest sum of money due back to you.
That was in the mail a few days ago from a solicitors firm. This is funny to me. What is a modest sum? Also, I had dealings with them over three years ago - how have they found this out now?! I wonder if they'll give me interest on my modest sum. And if they have other qualifiers: a moderate sum, a considerable sum, a humongous sum!
I guess I'll call them on Monday.
I have two Wikipedia tabs open in my browser at the moment. One on the Vietnam War (because of that two day old entry, which actually I wrote only about an hour ago), and one on the Bradford City stadium fire:
The Bradford City Fire Disaster occurred on Saturday 11 May 1985 when a flash fire consumed one side of the Valley Parade football stadium in Bradford, England.
We were shown a video of the fire when I trained as a health & safety coordinator a few years ago. You can find it on Youtube, it's quite something. 56 people died.
It was dark outside when she woke up and she didn't know where she was. Looking around, the room seemed sterile and unfamiliar, but her brain was all mushy so she couldn't be sure.
She tried to recall what might have brought her here. There was nothing. A vague sense of unease, but... so... foggy.
A nurse looked in on her. "Hello Katie, you're awake! How are you feeling?" Then it dawned on her - she was back
. In hospital. Convalescence, her family always called it.
- What happened? Have I...?
- Yes, I'm afraid so, child.
So she had overdosed again.
Ah, the love between your grandfather and me didn't start with a bang. It was quiet, but persistent. He was director of the lab where I worked as an assistant. And a divorced woman with a son, in the mid fifties that was almost unheard of.
But he didn't care what people thought, he just asked me out. I was reluctant at first - I had so much to lose! - but gave in eventually.
Ours was a deep, understanding companionship. Almost half a century together! I still miss his presence every day. But luckily I know I will join him soon.
Ok, so my last three entries somehow ended with death. I really should cheer up. That previous one is Based On A True Story tho, i.e. my actual grandparents.
Oh, and in case you actually follow my updates here, the "modest sum" I wrote about on Friday was £41.13 and they will send me a cheque.
I'm bored of today and thinking I should perhaps go to bed. But my normal bedtime isn't for another three hours. Then I'll presumably wake up really early and lie in bed all restless and frustrated for several hours in the morning.
I'm sorry, I don't understand. I don't know anyone named Larry. I'm -
But what on Earth makes you think this is my father? My father died in 2004! How did you even get my number?
Well, either way, this must be a misunderstanding. I was not adopted and -
Excuse me!? How
Listen, I am going to hang up now. I won't have you call me out of the blue and disparage my family! My parents were happily married, I have my father's eyes and chin, and he died of prostate cancer in 2004. This conversation ends here. Goodbye!
People and I don't play well together.
If they're friendly, they scare me because of the expectations I presume they have of me. What if I say something stupid? What if I don't have anything to say at all? What if I'm being socially inappropriate?
If they are distant and aloof, they make me paranoid because I do, after all, want to be liked. What did I do wrong? What is she thinking of me? Does he wish I wasn't here?
I don't remember ever not feeling that way, but it is definitely getting worse with age.
[yes, I'm in therapy]
My oldest friend is coming to town tomorrow (from a different country). We lost contact a few years back, largely due to her flakiness. (This is lucky, because I became withdrawn a few years later, and this way I can still blame her.)
She said "I thought you might be annoyed that I haven't been keeping in touch properly. But if you don't feel any resentment, we should so something!"
I replied: "
I'm annoyed you didn't keep in touch, but what better way to make you feel bad about it than in person?"
She hasn't replied since. *lol*
Back from dinner with friend-from-home. I had a very odd experience after meeting them this afternoon. I went shopping, and suddenly had this "wow, I live here, this is my home" sensation. I guess being exposed to their outside view of Britain gave me some sort of distance.
Living here has become mundane for me, most of the time at least. But today, I suddenly felt like the student I was a few weeks after first moving here. Everything was New! Exciting! Foreign!
I must make more of an effort not to take what I have for granted.
- Listen! Do you hear?
- Hear what? All I can hear is the traffic over on the main road and...
- Okay I've had enough of this now, I can't hear a ruddy thing and I'm starting to get cold. Can we leave please?
- James? Say something! Where are you anyway, I can't see you! Oi! Wake up! I can't believe you fell asleep! HEY! What the...
talk to me!
Oh my God, you've got to be kidding me, this can't be happening... James!!! Oh God oh God oh God, what am I gonna do!?
SOMEBODY HELP! MY FRIEND! HE'S DEAD!
Even decades on I'm still gripped with anxiety when I think of the countless evenings spent treading on eggshells so as not to anger you. The hiding away when you had a bad day because anything at all would set you off.
Was that what you wanted, was that what you had planned? I feared you, I hated you, I wished you gone. And then you were - and I mourned you, I missed you, I screamed about the unfairness of the world, of having you taken from us too soon.
It's never easy, is it. Never just black and white.
Reading most of my posts here you wouldn't think that I am NO LONGER DEPRESSED. What the hell is wrong with me!?
I've been thinking of writing letters to the people who've fucked me over in the past. Truly honest, brutal, potentially hurtful or terrifying letters.
Of course I'd never send them. I'd just want to get it all down, perhaps in the hope of sorting out my thoughts about these matters.
But what foolish hopes these are! Years of ruminating and hours of therapy haven't made a difference, why should this?
Perhaps I'm subconsciously planning to really send them.
No, I haven't spoken to my brother in years, no idea what he's up to, last I heard he'd moved North, hiding from some bird who'd gone mental on him. All that crap about family ties is rubbish to me, I never chose those people, you know? I was plonked in their midst by some act of fate, had a hard enough time getting away from them. Took me years to cut myself loose, and years more of therapy to stop fearing them. No way am I going back there, man. If he's in trouble let him drown in it.
The "motorcycle only" parking space at the top of our street is often partly blocked off by moron car drivers who think "M/Cs" stands for "Maybe Cars".
And so it was again today. Big fat SUV, meaning there was no room left for me, unless I parked semi-illegally into the double yellow line.
As luck would have it, two traffic wardens were standing opposite, chatting. I asked if they'd allow me to squeeze in. And one of them said "No, but if you want I can give the car a ticket."
I wanted! Best. Feeling.
I've spent the last two days struggling with headaches again (headaches? I guess it's always the same one. I don't know, does everyone have their very own headache spirit which haunts them from time to time and keeps quiet in between, or are they little travelling critters, so each time you have a headache it's a different one?). Anyway, it's no fun and puts a real damper on my general wellbeing.
I learnt something fun today tho: when you deposit a cheque using one of those automatic machines, you get a receipt with a tiny scan of it. So cute!
I love tiny things. Give me a small version of something and I'm sold. I made myself a Manhattan soft toy a few years ago. Cut out the approximate shape, iron on Google Maps printout, fill with cotton wool, voilà, cuddly NYC!
You know what bugs me? Mispronouncing loan words by assimilating them. Déjà vu is not pronounced dayjah voo. Über is not pronounced oober. I know it's probably just me, but ugh.
Worse tho is when they're even misspelled. It's not viola and it's not per say! If you're gonna get it wrong just don't use it please.
Aand February is almost over! Do you ever feel like life is passing you by? I remember when I was a child I thought "wow, in the year 2000 I'm going to be 23, I can't even fathom being that old!" Of course I didn't say fathom because I didn't speak English as a kid.
Now I'm 33 and I feel old. My 40es - unimaginable! I don't see myself retiring, how could I ever become that ancient? And yet it's probably going to happen, and I should make the most of my time before then. It's all going too fast.
I have just spent £35 and fifty minutes talking about my feelings, or lack thereof, or unwillingness to experience them. And I think (see? I
, not I feel) I've come out even more convinced to steer well clear of emotions, for they promise nothing good, and harbour countless deceitful pitfalls of pain and fear.
And yet I know I will faithfully return to therapy, for fifty minutes every Monday, hoping that I will one day reach a point where... where what exactly?! I have no bloody clue. Things will change, my life will be different -
will be different.
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