I was feeling all horny until today, but then I got a text from S--- at 4.08 saying 'Skype in 20 minutes?' - which I MISSED completely and only saw about 38 minutes ago.
You shouldn't beat yourself up about stuff I know, but the evil irony of it has just trashed my mood completely. I've really started to miss him in the past couple of days - it's set in really badly. I had been HOPING we could talk. And then, I missed my chance because my phone stayed upstairs in my bag all day! On top of that, I got soaked good and proper today around the lunch hour(s). My hair, WHICH I WASHED YESTERDAY, got drenched. The stuff in my bag (a present from him - cue more nostalgia) was barely protected. Which is why my phone ended up staying in there all evening... >_< It all comes full circle! Oh well, Bitch is hassling me to get off. Better run...
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Sunday, September 17, 2006
A Much-Needed Post
There are times in your life which are, for want of a better word, utterly BLAARGH. The feckless senselessness of that word sums it up - a mad mix of fear, frustration and disbelief. Otherwise known (by me, at least) as 'grey areas,' these are the kind of moments which we should welcome for humanity as a whole, because they help further our advancement by pressing us to think deeper about things. On an individual scale however, they can just feel a bit unfair. Yes, change has to come, but it has a nasty habit of coming all at once so that you suddenly feel as if you're riding The Twister with a desperately-mooing cow behind, looking up your knickers.
Wow, that was almost deep! I have been leafing through our astrology books in yonder C------- while attempting to avoid doing the minimum amount of book-shelving, and apparently the period 2000-4000 is the age of Aquarius, which means we can expect lots of pioneering breakthroughs in the scientific fields, and face up to totally new ways of thinking about things. Or something. The main gist of it seemed to be that it's all going to be about newness and change. I also read that apparently at the age of 19, one enters a Scorpio year. The only real thing that stuck there was it saying that Scorpio years are 'make-or-break' after the over-diplomatic / indecisive Libra years (that's a mix of paraphrasing and quoting, don't sue me, I'm not claiming they're my own words!).
Now, you could dismiss this, fairly correctly, as bollocks. Which year of your life isn't make-or-break, in some way? Nonetheless, that got me thinking quite separately that Scorpio or no, this really has been, and will continue to the end to be, one hell of a year. It might not be over yet, but I still need to do my little Cancerian retrospective, because there's so much to examine.
My eldest sister got married. This should be simple, but puh-LEASE, it's an Indian wedding! The months before went into planning and preparing it like loons, plus my family (second-eldest sister especially) reiterating doubts about sending my sister into such a family as my Jeej's is. The wedding day was a tidal wave of emotion, with my calmness unfortunately evaporating when faced with so many self-repressing females. Typically Moonchild, I gauged the hidden mood (without too much effort, I mean, come on, the bride was my sister too!) and expressed it for those who could not - my mum, my second sister, my sister's best friend. Now, we have to hear about the bust-ups with her hubby every now and again, which are usually sudden and explosive; the bitchiness of her mother-in-law who just wants to control her, her stupid sister-in-law, their collective uselessness. It has become a huge, wearying circus, one which never quite seems to settle down, and so, every now and again, my mum goes into a tizzy as to whether she's going to come and stay with us, or try and divorce him, or something. Good God.
My second eldest sister's getting married. Therefore, we've leapt rapidly into the planning stage with lots of aggro - her angsting about how it's going to be after she's married, reinforcing verbally just how reluctant she is to get married, being depressed and cynical... One minute she's getting huffy over the thought of doing everything for his family herself, the next she's saying vehemently, and venomously, that men are utterly useless and thereby showing us wordlessly that she has decided, angrily, to go along with just everything my mum has fed us about married life - 'Nine times out of ten, the woman has to give in.'
Wonderful. I often feel compelled to ask her, 'Why are you marrying him? One minute you're all cute over him, the next you're reeling off all these problems you're going to have to face.' She too, in a more forceful way than my other sister, is just tiring and cacophonous. I smile before her anti-male rants, because I have a guy who is beyond her imagining - he enjoys cooking and he does it incredibly well! However, the unpleasant air eventually gets to you - not only to me, irritatingly sensitive though I am, but also to my mum. Of course my dad and brother don't have a clue, but they have been part of this stereotype my sister dreads, and so it is not something for them to relate to. Thus it seems my mum will spend her future just worrying about the two of them all the time, both for totally different but intrinsically linked reasons. How ironic. She thought she was teaching us how to face the hard ways of life as an Indian woman, but all she transferred was a curse.
Still, I am wise to this, so there is some hope for me, albeit not very much. During my jaded jags, I break down and feel myself bending to this bleak and loveless view of the world. The world certainly becomes more black-and-white. White becomes oblivion and escape through suicide - or becoming a 'gori,' a full white girl, being disowned by my family and severing all ties with my culture. People can call me a coconut as much as they want, but I don't fucking care, because at least I'm not a hypocrite. I know more than them, and I can see what is going wrong, what is at the root of our fucking problems. I CAN SEE THE FUCKING FUTURE, BITCHES. But they don't want me to able to touch it. Black is be more Asian, join the walking caricatures of .........., fatten Tradition's bloated arse a bit further and forget that I was ever different. But fuck that, I'm a Cancerian. I'm all wrong from the start. I choose colour, I choose the humanitarian approach, I choose cautious optimism and determination. I'd rather be Brikh, British and agnostic / Sikh, not Brindian, pretending to be a Sikh and hypocritical.
I realise I have to thank Mr. Gettings for this in a lot of ways. How he came to be so goddamn perceptive, I do not know. Maybe he isn't, and maybe he's just bold. But, when he proposed that essay title to me, 'Sikhs are natural iconoclasts and freedom fighters. Discuss,' he GAVE ME A CLUE. I couldn't see all the little connections then that I can now. When I looked back on it, I began to wonder how he could have been so smart. I sent him 'Indian Woman,' my angry poem, and he gave me this essay. There was a link there, and it has become the basis of my ideas and birthed something totally new from my head, the way Athene came from Zeus.
The other uncertainty comes from this being the first time that my boyfriend and I have spent so much time apart from one another. It has been bad in the respect that it has brought all my insecurities to the fore. I have a tendency to feel that my problems are unimportant, that I shouldn't trust anyone with them, that I can only rely on myself... This all comes from the 'typically Indian' mindset doled out to me courtesy of my family. Obviously this caused problems with S---, because he wanted me to talk to him and open up. I, however, felt that he was off having a good time, so I didn't need him, and didn't want him to see that I was unhappy. It was like competition - 'who's coping the best?' Ludicrous, but being away from him, and missing his influence made me regress emotionally. Thank God we got over it. It led to us having one of the worst fights we've had in a long time. I've been making him cry too much, and I feel terrible.
Now that that has finished, he tells me about a girl called Emma. He met her on an Oxford open day, they talk from time to time and get on well enough. She broke up with her boyfriend and gave him her number and asked him to call her, etc. etc. I'm not particularly worried, even though he feels worried that she might fancy him. I say that maybe she doesn't have many good guy mates, and that's why she asked you to call her. We Skyped very briefly today, and he said he was still worried about it. I said she was probably too cut up over the split to think of fancying him, and he agreed, but still sounded unsure. So I asked him why he thought she might like him. And he said, she's one of those people, you know, who you don't talk to much, but you still get on really well with whenever you do? A-ha, I thought. I wasn't upset or afraid, or anything. I could see what was going on, it was what had happened to me many times before when I feared I liked A--- or something like that. I warned him my thoughts were 'horrible,' and suggested that perhaps a tiny part of him, which he was reluctant to acknowledge, found her attractive, hence the angsting. This left him even more uncertain, which left me quite sure that it was probably the case.
So how should I feel about this? I'm not necessarily right, but I have a gut instinct for these things and it is zoning right on in. I thought, with a certain grim amusement, that it could only be karam, completing its cycle. I throw up my hands and accept it; I deserve to feel even slightly threatened. However, I don't. This is maybe exactly what I needed, because I have absolute faith in him, more than he may even have in himself, just as he said to me a month or so ago when I feared I would be attracted to A---. Emma is a blessing in disguise, because she may have removed some of my biggest demons. He is not going to cheat, he is not going to leave me. This is a way for him to realise how intensely beautiful he is, so much so that other people besides me can see it. I am glad because I love him. So, so much. If I'm wrong, how Attic-tragic it will be. But I trust, and I believe. With all the pre- and post-nuptial madness around me, I think the universe owes me one.
Wow, that was almost deep! I have been leafing through our astrology books in yonder C------- while attempting to avoid doing the minimum amount of book-shelving, and apparently the period 2000-4000 is the age of Aquarius, which means we can expect lots of pioneering breakthroughs in the scientific fields, and face up to totally new ways of thinking about things. Or something. The main gist of it seemed to be that it's all going to be about newness and change. I also read that apparently at the age of 19, one enters a Scorpio year. The only real thing that stuck there was it saying that Scorpio years are 'make-or-break' after the over-diplomatic / indecisive Libra years (that's a mix of paraphrasing and quoting, don't sue me, I'm not claiming they're my own words!).
Now, you could dismiss this, fairly correctly, as bollocks. Which year of your life isn't make-or-break, in some way? Nonetheless, that got me thinking quite separately that Scorpio or no, this really has been, and will continue to the end to be, one hell of a year. It might not be over yet, but I still need to do my little Cancerian retrospective, because there's so much to examine.
My eldest sister got married. This should be simple, but puh-LEASE, it's an Indian wedding! The months before went into planning and preparing it like loons, plus my family (second-eldest sister especially) reiterating doubts about sending my sister into such a family as my Jeej's is. The wedding day was a tidal wave of emotion, with my calmness unfortunately evaporating when faced with so many self-repressing females. Typically Moonchild, I gauged the hidden mood (without too much effort, I mean, come on, the bride was my sister too!) and expressed it for those who could not - my mum, my second sister, my sister's best friend. Now, we have to hear about the bust-ups with her hubby every now and again, which are usually sudden and explosive; the bitchiness of her mother-in-law who just wants to control her, her stupid sister-in-law, their collective uselessness. It has become a huge, wearying circus, one which never quite seems to settle down, and so, every now and again, my mum goes into a tizzy as to whether she's going to come and stay with us, or try and divorce him, or something. Good God.
My second eldest sister's getting married. Therefore, we've leapt rapidly into the planning stage with lots of aggro - her angsting about how it's going to be after she's married, reinforcing verbally just how reluctant she is to get married, being depressed and cynical... One minute she's getting huffy over the thought of doing everything for his family herself, the next she's saying vehemently, and venomously, that men are utterly useless and thereby showing us wordlessly that she has decided, angrily, to go along with just everything my mum has fed us about married life - 'Nine times out of ten, the woman has to give in.'
Wonderful. I often feel compelled to ask her, 'Why are you marrying him? One minute you're all cute over him, the next you're reeling off all these problems you're going to have to face.' She too, in a more forceful way than my other sister, is just tiring and cacophonous. I smile before her anti-male rants, because I have a guy who is beyond her imagining - he enjoys cooking and he does it incredibly well! However, the unpleasant air eventually gets to you - not only to me, irritatingly sensitive though I am, but also to my mum. Of course my dad and brother don't have a clue, but they have been part of this stereotype my sister dreads, and so it is not something for them to relate to. Thus it seems my mum will spend her future just worrying about the two of them all the time, both for totally different but intrinsically linked reasons. How ironic. She thought she was teaching us how to face the hard ways of life as an Indian woman, but all she transferred was a curse.
Still, I am wise to this, so there is some hope for me, albeit not very much. During my jaded jags, I break down and feel myself bending to this bleak and loveless view of the world. The world certainly becomes more black-and-white. White becomes oblivion and escape through suicide - or becoming a 'gori,' a full white girl, being disowned by my family and severing all ties with my culture. People can call me a coconut as much as they want, but I don't fucking care, because at least I'm not a hypocrite. I know more than them, and I can see what is going wrong, what is at the root of our fucking problems. I CAN SEE THE FUCKING FUTURE, BITCHES. But they don't want me to able to touch it. Black is be more Asian, join the walking caricatures of .........., fatten Tradition's bloated arse a bit further and forget that I was ever different. But fuck that, I'm a Cancerian. I'm all wrong from the start. I choose colour, I choose the humanitarian approach, I choose cautious optimism and determination. I'd rather be Brikh, British and agnostic / Sikh, not Brindian, pretending to be a Sikh and hypocritical.
I realise I have to thank Mr. Gettings for this in a lot of ways. How he came to be so goddamn perceptive, I do not know. Maybe he isn't, and maybe he's just bold. But, when he proposed that essay title to me, 'Sikhs are natural iconoclasts and freedom fighters. Discuss,' he GAVE ME A CLUE. I couldn't see all the little connections then that I can now. When I looked back on it, I began to wonder how he could have been so smart. I sent him 'Indian Woman,' my angry poem, and he gave me this essay. There was a link there, and it has become the basis of my ideas and birthed something totally new from my head, the way Athene came from Zeus.
The other uncertainty comes from this being the first time that my boyfriend and I have spent so much time apart from one another. It has been bad in the respect that it has brought all my insecurities to the fore. I have a tendency to feel that my problems are unimportant, that I shouldn't trust anyone with them, that I can only rely on myself... This all comes from the 'typically Indian' mindset doled out to me courtesy of my family. Obviously this caused problems with S---, because he wanted me to talk to him and open up. I, however, felt that he was off having a good time, so I didn't need him, and didn't want him to see that I was unhappy. It was like competition - 'who's coping the best?' Ludicrous, but being away from him, and missing his influence made me regress emotionally. Thank God we got over it. It led to us having one of the worst fights we've had in a long time. I've been making him cry too much, and I feel terrible.
Now that that has finished, he tells me about a girl called Emma. He met her on an Oxford open day, they talk from time to time and get on well enough. She broke up with her boyfriend and gave him her number and asked him to call her, etc. etc. I'm not particularly worried, even though he feels worried that she might fancy him. I say that maybe she doesn't have many good guy mates, and that's why she asked you to call her. We Skyped very briefly today, and he said he was still worried about it. I said she was probably too cut up over the split to think of fancying him, and he agreed, but still sounded unsure. So I asked him why he thought she might like him. And he said, she's one of those people, you know, who you don't talk to much, but you still get on really well with whenever you do? A-ha, I thought. I wasn't upset or afraid, or anything. I could see what was going on, it was what had happened to me many times before when I feared I liked A--- or something like that. I warned him my thoughts were 'horrible,' and suggested that perhaps a tiny part of him, which he was reluctant to acknowledge, found her attractive, hence the angsting. This left him even more uncertain, which left me quite sure that it was probably the case.
So how should I feel about this? I'm not necessarily right, but I have a gut instinct for these things and it is zoning right on in. I thought, with a certain grim amusement, that it could only be karam, completing its cycle. I throw up my hands and accept it; I deserve to feel even slightly threatened. However, I don't. This is maybe exactly what I needed, because I have absolute faith in him, more than he may even have in himself, just as he said to me a month or so ago when I feared I would be attracted to A---. Emma is a blessing in disguise, because she may have removed some of my biggest demons. He is not going to cheat, he is not going to leave me. This is a way for him to realise how intensely beautiful he is, so much so that other people besides me can see it. I am glad because I love him. So, so much. If I'm wrong, how Attic-tragic it will be. But I trust, and I believe. With all the pre- and post-nuptial madness around me, I think the universe owes me one.
Monday, September 11, 2006
She Be Sicknin'!
ARRRRR, yes, I be! It's not actually Talk Like A Pirate Day yet (that's September 19th - thank yous go out to David Langdon for that rather random fact), but I'm getting in the mood early. I have decided to be a pig(-let? -ling?) and just wallow in my own disgustingness. I mean, have you ever actually LOOKED at the faces of those pink mar-maals (I had an attack of the ol' Toffee-Nose there...) and seen how happy they are to be rollin' in the mud? Well, I have! And so, I think that right now I really deserve to just be all smurky (smug and smirky) about how happy I am. Wait a minute - that makes no sense! Usually people are smug because they're doing the whole 'I'm so happy... so MUCH happier than you,' thing. I, however, am more along the lines of 'I'm happy... very happy... it's nice not to fight... yay.' LOL.
Alright, the happ'ness (the happ'nin hap'ness, bro :-P) is now under threat because my neck and shoulders kind of ache and I am so FARKIN' tired. But I will soldier on regardless! Sitting up a bit more appears to be helping. I must resist the urge to just lay my FACE on the keyboard and have a little long rest. Thank God I've decided not to take any extra days next week - hopefully that way I might have some chance of restoring my sleeping pattern before uni starts again on the 26th. I really must start sleeping earlier though, because I'm going to have to get up painful early. The latest I'll be able to get up will be 7. Thank God it's only 1 semester, and thank God it'll be winter. I can bathe the night before and sleep in peace without having to worry about sweating and smelling. Although, now that I think about it, there's a distinct possibility that some of my French courses might begin really early...
*few minutes later* Oh, thank God, they all are 11-1 from what I can see so far. I think the rest of my English courses are fine too. Just the Epic-Milton-Pope one... oh well, someone's going to take over from me soon, (I'm at work...) so I better be gone. I'll rapidly and garbled-ly detail why I have been and am fairly happy:
I love my boyfriend so much, he is so great and wonderful and gorgeous, that all I can do is go mad thinking about how he feels and how I won't actually get to touch him for close to another month and then about 4-5 months after that. I accept wholeheartedly that I am the source of most of our problems. I'm too bloody sensitive. But I'm working on it! And he... he is GREAT. So there's hope for us yet. Oooh, he is so sweet. I want to eat him. :-P
Thought I would throw that in there for a bit of excitement. Nothing like a bit of cannibalism to stir up the cliché-sick masses! Hi ho, hi ho, and off to shelve I go... :-(
Alright, the happ'ness (the happ'nin hap'ness, bro :-P) is now under threat because my neck and shoulders kind of ache and I am so FARKIN' tired. But I will soldier on regardless! Sitting up a bit more appears to be helping. I must resist the urge to just lay my FACE on the keyboard and have a little long rest. Thank God I've decided not to take any extra days next week - hopefully that way I might have some chance of restoring my sleeping pattern before uni starts again on the 26th. I really must start sleeping earlier though, because I'm going to have to get up painful early. The latest I'll be able to get up will be 7. Thank God it's only 1 semester, and thank God it'll be winter. I can bathe the night before and sleep in peace without having to worry about sweating and smelling. Although, now that I think about it, there's a distinct possibility that some of my French courses might begin really early...
*few minutes later* Oh, thank God, they all are 11-1 from what I can see so far. I think the rest of my English courses are fine too. Just the Epic-Milton-Pope one... oh well, someone's going to take over from me soon, (I'm at work...) so I better be gone. I'll rapidly and garbled-ly detail why I have been and am fairly happy:
I love my boyfriend so much, he is so great and wonderful and gorgeous, that all I can do is go mad thinking about how he feels and how I won't actually get to touch him for close to another month and then about 4-5 months after that. I accept wholeheartedly that I am the source of most of our problems. I'm too bloody sensitive. But I'm working on it! And he... he is GREAT. So there's hope for us yet. Oooh, he is so sweet. I want to eat him. :-P
Thought I would throw that in there for a bit of excitement. Nothing like a bit of cannibalism to stir up the cliché-sick masses! Hi ho, hi ho, and off to shelve I go... :-(
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Stuck To It!
(Note: I posted this yesterday, but due to some weirdness, I had to delete and re-post it today).
Yes, I am actually here as I said I would be! Don't think it's just you that's thrilled with my attendance - I'd love to be less of a flake, less forgetful and overly emotional, but now especially I can't help it (lack of sleep... TOM... as mentioned yesterday).
I am in a very strange place at the moment. I'll start from the beginning: on the 28th of August (nearly a fortnight ago), S------- headed off to Groningen in Holland for 6 months. I knew that I was going to find it hard to cope without him, whether it came sooner or later. So, to try and 'prep' myself, I worked myself up a bit the night before after doing the washing-up (kitchen TABLE drama, HAHA) by listening to weepies. Ambulance by TV On The Radio and Prototype by André 3000 tend to do the biz when I need them to. I cried, I purged, I was trying to remove the irritation before it happened.
Now, that sums it up, really - I was obviously going to have to suffer anyway. Last week, I got my dues. Everything went wrong - stress over uni work that I still haven't done, a strong sense of isolation, bodily woes, lack of sleep, fights with my family - it didn't take much to make me cry. S------ kept saying he would talk to me. I was feeling suicidal because it didn't seem like things were going to get better anytime soon. The lack of sleep was chronic - it made everything much, much worse and magnified my emotions by, like, 50. Obviously, because he was busy going out with his friends and settling in and whatever, he let me down 3 times in a row. So I got to hating him. The mere mention or thought of his name could make my throat lock, then lead to me bursting out crying before feeling intensely nauseous. It made me rather depressed to realise that I should expect him to break, rather than keep, his promises. I remember saying (probably to my cousin) that my heart was broken. And it was, because I felt that he’d lied to me.
Thus, I sent the following email to him, titled ‘Enough’:
‘I don't want to talk to you on Skype. I'm not going to make any arrangements or promises, and I don't expect you to either. Stop telling me you'll talk to me this day or that evening, because you can't stick to it.’
… and changed my MSN name to “Love? What the fuck is that shit? DON’T DO IT, KIDS!” Upon taking note of these two things, he rang me while I was in bed. I was obviously rather disgruntled with him. He asked what he’d done wrong, and then I started crying and told him. He felt incredibly guilty and then cried a bit too. We fixed it, though.
Today, however, I made him cry by being a bit cold, indifferent and ambivalent. I couldn’t help it, though - I felt like he was too busy to email or text me, when it turned out he hadn’t been doing ANYTHING at all. Obviously that pissed me off, and what with TOM being around, I was getting that horrible ambivalence towards him, where I just don’t feel able to relate and get over myself. We fixed it – again. It’s not good though, and this blog post will help remind me of how I need to be more mature and selfless. Fuck the rest of the world – ultimately it’s only him that matters, I never loved anyone else as much and as eagerly. DEFFOS not my family. Speaking of that, The Boy is hassling me, so time to go and ensure this blog remains uninvestigated by him. More self-serving noodle served up soon ;-P.
P.S.: Lily Allen is SO GREAT. She really is. I have totally fallen in love with her album. I think it actually deserves FIVE STARS! However, American thick people (I'm assuming they're American by the way they've managed to somehow miss the fact that she has a London accent) have transcribed her lyrics rather shittily, leading to me having to correct at least 3 of her songs - after all, I had to go by those and they don't even make sense in places! Sample:
'And don't you feel it's all the same,
Some sick game and it's not insincere,'
(from http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/lilyallen/everythingsjustwonderful.html
Obviously the lyrics websites all just copy off of each other, so they've ALL got them wrong).
What the fuck?! It's NOT insincere? Why, then, would she be complaining?! I ask you, honestly. It's things like that that just made me think go on my little GeekMission(TM)...
Yes, I am actually here as I said I would be! Don't think it's just you that's thrilled with my attendance - I'd love to be less of a flake, less forgetful and overly emotional, but now especially I can't help it (lack of sleep... TOM... as mentioned yesterday).
I am in a very strange place at the moment. I'll start from the beginning: on the 28th of August (nearly a fortnight ago), S------- headed off to Groningen in Holland for 6 months. I knew that I was going to find it hard to cope without him, whether it came sooner or later. So, to try and 'prep' myself, I worked myself up a bit the night before after doing the washing-up (kitchen TABLE drama, HAHA) by listening to weepies. Ambulance by TV On The Radio and Prototype by André 3000 tend to do the biz when I need them to. I cried, I purged, I was trying to remove the irritation before it happened.
Now, that sums it up, really - I was obviously going to have to suffer anyway. Last week, I got my dues. Everything went wrong - stress over uni work that I still haven't done, a strong sense of isolation, bodily woes, lack of sleep, fights with my family - it didn't take much to make me cry. S------ kept saying he would talk to me. I was feeling suicidal because it didn't seem like things were going to get better anytime soon. The lack of sleep was chronic - it made everything much, much worse and magnified my emotions by, like, 50. Obviously, because he was busy going out with his friends and settling in and whatever, he let me down 3 times in a row. So I got to hating him. The mere mention or thought of his name could make my throat lock, then lead to me bursting out crying before feeling intensely nauseous. It made me rather depressed to realise that I should expect him to break, rather than keep, his promises. I remember saying (probably to my cousin) that my heart was broken. And it was, because I felt that he’d lied to me.
Thus, I sent the following email to him, titled ‘Enough’:
‘I don't want to talk to you on Skype. I'm not going to make any arrangements or promises, and I don't expect you to either. Stop telling me you'll talk to me this day or that evening, because you can't stick to it.’
… and changed my MSN name to “Love? What the fuck is that shit? DON’T DO IT, KIDS!” Upon taking note of these two things, he rang me while I was in bed. I was obviously rather disgruntled with him. He asked what he’d done wrong, and then I started crying and told him. He felt incredibly guilty and then cried a bit too. We fixed it, though.
Today, however, I made him cry by being a bit cold, indifferent and ambivalent. I couldn’t help it, though - I felt like he was too busy to email or text me, when it turned out he hadn’t been doing ANYTHING at all. Obviously that pissed me off, and what with TOM being around, I was getting that horrible ambivalence towards him, where I just don’t feel able to relate and get over myself. We fixed it – again. It’s not good though, and this blog post will help remind me of how I need to be more mature and selfless. Fuck the rest of the world – ultimately it’s only him that matters, I never loved anyone else as much and as eagerly. DEFFOS not my family. Speaking of that, The Boy is hassling me, so time to go and ensure this blog remains uninvestigated by him. More self-serving noodle served up soon ;-P.
P.S.: Lily Allen is SO GREAT. She really is. I have totally fallen in love with her album. I think it actually deserves FIVE STARS! However, American thick people (I'm assuming they're American by the way they've managed to somehow miss the fact that she has a London accent) have transcribed her lyrics rather shittily, leading to me having to correct at least 3 of her songs - after all, I had to go by those and they don't even make sense in places! Sample:
'And don't you feel it's all the same,
Some sick game and it's not insincere,'
(from http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/lilyallen/everythingsjustwonderful.html
Obviously the lyrics websites all just copy off of each other, so they've ALL got them wrong).
What the fuck?! It's NOT insincere? Why, then, would she be complaining?! I ask you, honestly. It's things like that that just made me think go on my little GeekMission(TM)...
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Too Hot, Too Hot
God, I have REALLY got to post on here more often! What with the increased fatigue and isolation, though, it often feels like way too much effort. My brother is currently doing coursework and his UCAS personal statement all the time anyway, which doesn't leave much room (or privacy) for typing up posts, now, does it? I could do what I have done before, and write out blog posts before putting them online. However, this has been roundly unsuccessful because:
a) About three of the five times I forced myself to try writing things down, I ended up getting bored and recording myself speaking my thoughts into my mobile phone instead. This has, ironically, just doubled my workload because now I have to listen to them again (while cringing both inwardly and outwardly at my voice prattling on) and 'transcribe' them into proper blog posts. So clearly, these are never going to see the light of day.
b) One of the five times (the first!), I wrote a bit, realised I was fed up with my increasingly self-aggrandising navel-gazing, and my fountain pen, and left it as a half page of gibble.
c) When I did finally manage to get one down, and actually enjoy the catharsis of scribbling away scathingly (about my siblings, quelle surprise!) , it spread over about 3 pages and I absolutely could not be arsed to type it up.
That's what it comes down to really - I'm just a fookin' lazy-arse. My constant exhaustion-through-lack-of-sleep and fraternal-monopolisation-of-the-PC are making it much worse. But yeah, I'm 'ere now, might as well get a world-class moan in. If anything gets left over, I'll be able to post it tomorrow (woohoo!) because I'm home alone.
1) I'm so, so tired. All the time. Sleep comes randomly and tends to be infrequent.
2) I'm so, so lonely. All the time. Friends' calls come randomly and tend to be infrequent.
3) I'm so, so bloated. All the time. Digestion fluctuates randomly and freedom of pot belly tends to be infrequent.
Just realised the nice little 'abc, 123' thing going on with my bullet points. That's great, I'll summon up The Jackson 5 next time I'm suffering at work due to all or any of the above and can't remember how to strict order things (I'm a librarian, for those of you who are left cold by the jargon. Not a real one though - I don't hand out reservations or papers to people, and I don't have an MA in Information, Something). The lovely rhythm will, however, have to be ruined, because Dewey tends to be rather prolific. Shame, dat. Then - THEN, this has just occurred to me (can ya tell?!) - I can mentally break out into that, er, song by The Go! Team which has the lyric "Two four six eight ten!"sung in a highly excitable manner. This, of course, will make me think nostalgically of kids playing 'jump-rope' (I am not an American) - or skipping, as we call it - and Hey Arnold!, and all my good work will have gone down the pan because I will be off into the heady land of Fatigue-Friendly Procrastination and word association.
Blimey, I surprise even myself. I know late-night is meant to be my inspired time, and these entries often take a turn for the unexpected, but that was (sur)really something. I have been unpleasantly hot and sweaty and prone to feel temperature changes a lot this week, along with the emotional erratica of last week. Somehow I don't think menopause will be that much of a surprise when it comes... Anyway, I appear to have broken the cycle of PMT at last, so hopefully now the excessive tiredness (y'know, feeling like you're going die after lunch at work around 2 in the afternoon) and excessive perspiration (y'know, feeling like you're going to die bathed in your own fluids, or have people not-so-subtly trying to avoid you subtly). My main gripe of this week is I'm just so TIRED. Even when I sleep with time to spare, it never quite seems to be enough, and I always wake up, whether it's because I've nearly fallen off the bed or banged my elbow (been sleeping upside-down recently. Don't ask... I'll explain tomorrow). My eyes feel worn out and periodicity (hah) is making it at least five times worse. Being on the PC as much as I have been hasn't helped either. Since I'm getting really isolated and have no life, I find myself just chatting to Colin and whoever else I feel isn't too much on MSN. It seems to be A Time For Leos - I'm getting on well with him and Saki's little brother. I've realised I don't have to make too much effort with either of them. It's a good feeling. Especially right now.
Well more tomorrow, I feel like falling unwashed and unbrushed into bed. I should've on arrival, really, to set my sleeping pattern - but ack VELL, ACK VELL!
a) About three of the five times I forced myself to try writing things down, I ended up getting bored and recording myself speaking my thoughts into my mobile phone instead. This has, ironically, just doubled my workload because now I have to listen to them again (while cringing both inwardly and outwardly at my voice prattling on) and 'transcribe' them into proper blog posts. So clearly, these are never going to see the light of day.
b) One of the five times (the first!), I wrote a bit, realised I was fed up with my increasingly self-aggrandising navel-gazing, and my fountain pen, and left it as a half page of gibble.
c) When I did finally manage to get one down, and actually enjoy the catharsis of scribbling away scathingly (about my siblings, quelle surprise!) , it spread over about 3 pages and I absolutely could not be arsed to type it up.
That's what it comes down to really - I'm just a fookin' lazy-arse. My constant exhaustion-through-lack-of-sleep and fraternal-monopolisation-of-the-PC are making it much worse. But yeah, I'm 'ere now, might as well get a world-class moan in. If anything gets left over, I'll be able to post it tomorrow (woohoo!) because I'm home alone.
1) I'm so, so tired. All the time. Sleep comes randomly and tends to be infrequent.
2) I'm so, so lonely. All the time. Friends' calls come randomly and tend to be infrequent.
3) I'm so, so bloated. All the time. Digestion fluctuates randomly and freedom of pot belly tends to be infrequent.
Just realised the nice little 'abc, 123' thing going on with my bullet points. That's great, I'll summon up The Jackson 5 next time I'm suffering at work due to all or any of the above and can't remember how to strict order things (I'm a librarian, for those of you who are left cold by the jargon. Not a real one though - I don't hand out reservations or papers to people, and I don't have an MA in Information, Something). The lovely rhythm will, however, have to be ruined, because Dewey tends to be rather prolific. Shame, dat. Then - THEN, this has just occurred to me (can ya tell?!) - I can mentally break out into that, er, song by The Go! Team which has the lyric "Two four six eight ten!"sung in a highly excitable manner. This, of course, will make me think nostalgically of kids playing 'jump-rope' (I am not an American) - or skipping, as we call it - and Hey Arnold!, and all my good work will have gone down the pan because I will be off into the heady land of Fatigue-Friendly Procrastination and word association.
Blimey, I surprise even myself. I know late-night is meant to be my inspired time, and these entries often take a turn for the unexpected, but that was (sur)really something. I have been unpleasantly hot and sweaty and prone to feel temperature changes a lot this week, along with the emotional erratica of last week. Somehow I don't think menopause will be that much of a surprise when it comes... Anyway, I appear to have broken the cycle of PMT at last, so hopefully now the excessive tiredness (y'know, feeling like you're going die after lunch at work around 2 in the afternoon) and excessive perspiration (y'know, feeling like you're going to die bathed in your own fluids, or have people not-so-subtly trying to avoid you subtly). My main gripe of this week is I'm just so TIRED. Even when I sleep with time to spare, it never quite seems to be enough, and I always wake up, whether it's because I've nearly fallen off the bed or banged my elbow (been sleeping upside-down recently. Don't ask... I'll explain tomorrow). My eyes feel worn out and periodicity (hah) is making it at least five times worse. Being on the PC as much as I have been hasn't helped either. Since I'm getting really isolated and have no life, I find myself just chatting to Colin and whoever else I feel isn't too much on MSN. It seems to be A Time For Leos - I'm getting on well with him and Saki's little brother. I've realised I don't have to make too much effort with either of them. It's a good feeling. Especially right now.
Well more tomorrow, I feel like falling unwashed and unbrushed into bed. I should've on arrival, really, to set my sleeping pattern - but ack VELL, ACK VELL!
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