In the time that followed, I did my best to forget about my strange phone call. I have to admit that for a few days, I felt quite shaken by the experience but as the days turned to weeks, although it still haunted me at night when I lay alone in my bed, I gradually began to let it go and I never mentioned it to anybody. Not even Anna. It wasn't until nearly a full month later, that I was forced to think properly about it again.
It was a Thursday. I can't remember the time but it was dark outside and the last rays of the dying sun had disappeared down behind the horizon. I was in my lounge, reading a book. It wasn't a very good book and I was considering just giving up with it and heading to bed. I'd had one of those days at work where time appears to be running at a snails pace, I was tired and my eyes hurt from spending too long in front of a computer screen.
I put my glasses down on the arm of my chair and pinched the skin between my eyes. Despite my lethargy, it was still too early for bed so I had about a half hour to fill before I settled down for the night. I didn't really want to turn on the television, in case I got absorbed in a programme or film and ended up staying up too late but I reached for the remote anyway.
The television flickered into life. Puzzled, I looked over at my hand. It was still stretching for the remote. I hadn't touched it or pressed any buttons, and yet the television was clearly on. It wasn't showing a picture, just fuzzy white snow and it was making a loud hissing noise.
I leaned forward, the remote firmly in my slightly sweaty palm by now, and continued to stare in a confused way at the familiar object that had, in the space of less than a minute, become a threatening stranger in my home. As I got closer to the screen a face appeared out of the fuzz. I couldn't make out any details, or the sex, but it was definitely a face with eyes, a nose and a mouth. It was looking straight at me. Not just in my direction but At Me. And also through me, as if it could see everything I had ever known or done. I was terrified and yet I wanted to know what was happening. It was my curiosity that stopped me running out the front door screaming like a madwoman.
"Who are you?" I whispered.
"You know who I am." the television hissed back at me.
"What do you want?" I could hear the shrillness in my voice, as if it were coming from another person and not out of my own mouth.
"You. You belong to us and we are coming for you. You have long been hidden from us and now we have found you. You must start saying your goodbyes child, it will not be long."
The television flicked off with a small bang and I found myself on the floor in front of the empty screen. I did not remember making my way across the room, all I could think about was that voice. It was different to the one on the phone, that one had been full of fear. This voice had not been afraid. Despite what it had said, I did not recognise it and the only thing that I knew for sure about it was that I did not want to meet the person, or thing, that it belonged to.
It was time, I thought, to find a good psychiatrist.
Sunday, 4 November 2007
Saturday, 27 October 2007
Chapter 3
You think you know where this is going.
Introverted, shy, retiring girl loses popular older sister in horrible, tragic accident. Spends rest of story on a voyage of self-discovery until finding 'herself' in the final chapter.
You are wrong.
In my story, nobody dies, least of all my sister. If I wanted, I could reach a hand out now to the black and white plastic telephone sitting on the desk beside me. I could lift the receiver, punch in a few numbers and in less than a minute I would be having a conversation. With Anna.
I just wanted you to understand me a bit better. Or understand the me that was at the beginning. She doesn't exist anymore but she was there for a very long time and I miss her terribly. Everything was so much simpler then. I knew who I was and where I came from. Life was a series of non-events, of day after day of the same things, same people, same circumstances. Now it's much more complicated.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. I want you to know the ending, even though you haven't even seen the true beginning yet. I want you to know the truth. I want everybody to know the truth, even though it's painful to sit here and write it. It makes it even more real and as hard as stone.
It started with a phone call. On my black and white plastic telephone, on a Sunday afternoon in late April. It was a beautiful day, not yet warm enough to leave your coat at home but the sun was bright, and there were no clouds in the clear blue sky. I shouldn't have been at home. I should have been out enjoying the first day in weeks that wasn't overcast with a thick grey blanket and relentless drizzle. To this day, I wonder what would've happened if I'd decided to spend my Sunday doing something else. I don't think I could have avoided what followed, it would've found it's way eventually, but it might have been put off for a while and the girl that was would have lived a little longer.
I was in the kitchen, making a coffee. I had filled my cup with a spoonful of brown powder and was waiting for the kettle to finish boiling. When the ringing started, I thought for a moment about ignoring it completely. I then thought that if it was my mother, I had better get the conversation out of the way with. She used to call every Sunday and we would struggle through five minutes of having nothing to say to each other before our goodbyes. It was only out of duty to our blood ties that we spoke at all. A small part of me knew that she felt bad, somewhere deep down buried in the granite, she knew she had failed to be the mother that her children deserved. The weekly call was by way of an apology. She would never say she was sorry, but it was her way of showing that she did care and by picking up the receiver I was showing that I accepted her attempt at rebuilding the broken bridges.
I hurried through into the lounge, not wanting to have to call her back, and picked up the ringing beast.
"Hello." I waited for my mother's voice to reply. There was a long silence.
"They're coming" said a quiet, strange, almost strangled whisper that I did not recognise. I felt an icy finger run all the way down my spine and for an instant, the whole world stopped spinning on it's axis as I tried desperately to comprehend what on earth this could mean.
The phone started beeping angrily at me and I realised my caller had rung off. Gently, I returned the handset to it's cradle and walked slowly back into the kitchen to finish making my coffee.
Introverted, shy, retiring girl loses popular older sister in horrible, tragic accident. Spends rest of story on a voyage of self-discovery until finding 'herself' in the final chapter.
You are wrong.
In my story, nobody dies, least of all my sister. If I wanted, I could reach a hand out now to the black and white plastic telephone sitting on the desk beside me. I could lift the receiver, punch in a few numbers and in less than a minute I would be having a conversation. With Anna.
I just wanted you to understand me a bit better. Or understand the me that was at the beginning. She doesn't exist anymore but she was there for a very long time and I miss her terribly. Everything was so much simpler then. I knew who I was and where I came from. Life was a series of non-events, of day after day of the same things, same people, same circumstances. Now it's much more complicated.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. I want you to know the ending, even though you haven't even seen the true beginning yet. I want you to know the truth. I want everybody to know the truth, even though it's painful to sit here and write it. It makes it even more real and as hard as stone.
It started with a phone call. On my black and white plastic telephone, on a Sunday afternoon in late April. It was a beautiful day, not yet warm enough to leave your coat at home but the sun was bright, and there were no clouds in the clear blue sky. I shouldn't have been at home. I should have been out enjoying the first day in weeks that wasn't overcast with a thick grey blanket and relentless drizzle. To this day, I wonder what would've happened if I'd decided to spend my Sunday doing something else. I don't think I could have avoided what followed, it would've found it's way eventually, but it might have been put off for a while and the girl that was would have lived a little longer.
I was in the kitchen, making a coffee. I had filled my cup with a spoonful of brown powder and was waiting for the kettle to finish boiling. When the ringing started, I thought for a moment about ignoring it completely. I then thought that if it was my mother, I had better get the conversation out of the way with. She used to call every Sunday and we would struggle through five minutes of having nothing to say to each other before our goodbyes. It was only out of duty to our blood ties that we spoke at all. A small part of me knew that she felt bad, somewhere deep down buried in the granite, she knew she had failed to be the mother that her children deserved. The weekly call was by way of an apology. She would never say she was sorry, but it was her way of showing that she did care and by picking up the receiver I was showing that I accepted her attempt at rebuilding the broken bridges.
I hurried through into the lounge, not wanting to have to call her back, and picked up the ringing beast.
"Hello." I waited for my mother's voice to reply. There was a long silence.
"They're coming" said a quiet, strange, almost strangled whisper that I did not recognise. I felt an icy finger run all the way down my spine and for an instant, the whole world stopped spinning on it's axis as I tried desperately to comprehend what on earth this could mean.
The phone started beeping angrily at me and I realised my caller had rung off. Gently, I returned the handset to it's cradle and walked slowly back into the kitchen to finish making my coffee.
Friday, 19 October 2007
Chapter 2
I think the main reason I was always happy to be in the background was my sister. We'll call her Anna. That's not her real name, but it will do for my story.
Anna was a bitch.
I love her, I have always loved her dearly, but she was Hard Work. Three years older than me, effortlessly beautiful and slim and exciting and all those other words that I can't think of right now because I have always felt them and never said them out loud. She wasn't Hard Work for me, but for everybody else around her, she caused mayhem wherever she went.
When we were small, she used to look after me. Nobody would ever bully Anna's baby sister, not if they wanted a quiet life anyway. A boy pulled my hair at school once when I was about six. Anna punched him square in the face, breaking his nose in front of all his friends. She was suspended for a week and came back a hero. Nobody ever pulled my hair again. She was popular with a capital 'P' and in normal circumstances, it should have rubbed off my way. However, I reacted to her eternal sunshine by embracing her silhouette and was grateful, particularly at home, for the fact that people would forget I was there if she was. I loved the darkness almost as much as she loved the light and, I suppose, all those things They say about opposites getting along was more than true for us. With me she could be still, which wasn't something that happened very often. With her I could be loud. That didn't happen very often either. You would never have thought it had you known us, but behind closed doors we were closer than close.
My mother revelled in her wonderful daughter. She was always entering Anna for competitions and events, like she was some sort of pedigree show-dog. As far as my mother was concerned, I was irrelevant and I was left alone, until I fled the nest at sixteen, to do whatever I chose. My grades would never be as good as Anna's. I wasn't as pretty. I refused point blank to go to family gatherings and if forced would be a horrible, sullen embarrassment. My mother will never admit it to you, but she breathed a long sigh of relief the day I stopped darkening her doorstep.
Anna understood.
She knew that I wasn't like her and she didn't care. I've never met anybody as accepting and giving and loving as my sister and I never shall.
So I never had to be best, or first, or smarter because that was her job. I just existed and that was always enough. Enough for us, in any case.
My mother would disagree.
Anna was a bitch.
I love her, I have always loved her dearly, but she was Hard Work. Three years older than me, effortlessly beautiful and slim and exciting and all those other words that I can't think of right now because I have always felt them and never said them out loud. She wasn't Hard Work for me, but for everybody else around her, she caused mayhem wherever she went.
When we were small, she used to look after me. Nobody would ever bully Anna's baby sister, not if they wanted a quiet life anyway. A boy pulled my hair at school once when I was about six. Anna punched him square in the face, breaking his nose in front of all his friends. She was suspended for a week and came back a hero. Nobody ever pulled my hair again. She was popular with a capital 'P' and in normal circumstances, it should have rubbed off my way. However, I reacted to her eternal sunshine by embracing her silhouette and was grateful, particularly at home, for the fact that people would forget I was there if she was. I loved the darkness almost as much as she loved the light and, I suppose, all those things They say about opposites getting along was more than true for us. With me she could be still, which wasn't something that happened very often. With her I could be loud. That didn't happen very often either. You would never have thought it had you known us, but behind closed doors we were closer than close.
My mother revelled in her wonderful daughter. She was always entering Anna for competitions and events, like she was some sort of pedigree show-dog. As far as my mother was concerned, I was irrelevant and I was left alone, until I fled the nest at sixteen, to do whatever I chose. My grades would never be as good as Anna's. I wasn't as pretty. I refused point blank to go to family gatherings and if forced would be a horrible, sullen embarrassment. My mother will never admit it to you, but she breathed a long sigh of relief the day I stopped darkening her doorstep.
Anna understood.
She knew that I wasn't like her and she didn't care. I've never met anybody as accepting and giving and loving as my sister and I never shall.
So I never had to be best, or first, or smarter because that was her job. I just existed and that was always enough. Enough for us, in any case.
My mother would disagree.
Wednesday, 12 September 2007
Chapter One
I am not a very interesting person.
I never came first in a race. I never came top of my class. I never won an award. I never pushed to the front. I never tried to be noticed. I never succeeded. I was never the best dressed. I was never ahead of the pack. I was never first to be served. I was never a guy's first choice. I was never a girl's first choice. I was never the favourite. I was never remembered. I was never the first to know. I was never the earliest. I was never the latest. I was never mysterious. I never had the best haircut. I never had the worst haircut. I never slept with a virgin. I was never special. I was never called beautiful. I was never called upon to help.
I never made an impact. You probably went to school with me. You only vaguely remember though, maybe if you saw my face in a grainy old photo, you might be able to recall my name- but more than likely you wouldn't. You didn't Dislike me. You just don't remember me. I wasn't your first love or the ugly kid with glasses that you bullied mercilessly for four years. I just sat quietly, out of the way, getting on with things. We may have played together, outside on those long, dusty summer afternoons when you were so young that a day felt like it lasted for eternity. The sun would beat down on your freckled shoulders hot enough to burn, but back then, nobody called social services if you did. We would play hopscotch and marbles and tag and all those other normal childhood games that everybody remembers fondly.
Does that jog your memory?
I thought not. You had fun with me back then, but it was nothing special. The memory of me isn't precious to you. Nor should it be. I didn't really care too much for you either.
Or maybe I sat at the desk next to yours on your first 'proper' job. Sometimes I would do the coffee run, if I was asked by Nina from the second floor. You remember Her. The girl with legs so long she could have been part giraffe. And that shirt! So tight it was practically a miracle she was still breathing at the end of the day. But as for me? I sat next to you for two whole years, tapping away quietly on my keyboard. I went to every office party. I watched you knock back the free bubbly until you were brave enough to scurry off to the stationary cupboard with Nina in tow. You had one of those party hats shaped like an upside-down ice-cream cone on. It was red with a gold stripe. And when you came out of the cupboard, (to a round of drunken applause) it had tilted to one side like you were some sort of comical pirate. You remember That party. But you don't recall that I was there.
I am a shadow.
I never thought that I would ever be anything more than that. Existing on the outside of everyone else's lives. Watching. Waiting. And I never asked for anything more. I chose not to be like you. I chose not to show off. I chose not to make the effort. I was happy to observe whilst life sped by me, longing for the day when I could finally shut the door and never set a foot outside it again.
But then, something happened.
And this is where my story begins.
I never came first in a race. I never came top of my class. I never won an award. I never pushed to the front. I never tried to be noticed. I never succeeded. I was never the best dressed. I was never ahead of the pack. I was never first to be served. I was never a guy's first choice. I was never a girl's first choice. I was never the favourite. I was never remembered. I was never the first to know. I was never the earliest. I was never the latest. I was never mysterious. I never had the best haircut. I never had the worst haircut. I never slept with a virgin. I was never special. I was never called beautiful. I was never called upon to help.
I never made an impact. You probably went to school with me. You only vaguely remember though, maybe if you saw my face in a grainy old photo, you might be able to recall my name- but more than likely you wouldn't. You didn't Dislike me. You just don't remember me. I wasn't your first love or the ugly kid with glasses that you bullied mercilessly for four years. I just sat quietly, out of the way, getting on with things. We may have played together, outside on those long, dusty summer afternoons when you were so young that a day felt like it lasted for eternity. The sun would beat down on your freckled shoulders hot enough to burn, but back then, nobody called social services if you did. We would play hopscotch and marbles and tag and all those other normal childhood games that everybody remembers fondly.
Does that jog your memory?
I thought not. You had fun with me back then, but it was nothing special. The memory of me isn't precious to you. Nor should it be. I didn't really care too much for you either.
Or maybe I sat at the desk next to yours on your first 'proper' job. Sometimes I would do the coffee run, if I was asked by Nina from the second floor. You remember Her. The girl with legs so long she could have been part giraffe. And that shirt! So tight it was practically a miracle she was still breathing at the end of the day. But as for me? I sat next to you for two whole years, tapping away quietly on my keyboard. I went to every office party. I watched you knock back the free bubbly until you were brave enough to scurry off to the stationary cupboard with Nina in tow. You had one of those party hats shaped like an upside-down ice-cream cone on. It was red with a gold stripe. And when you came out of the cupboard, (to a round of drunken applause) it had tilted to one side like you were some sort of comical pirate. You remember That party. But you don't recall that I was there.
I am a shadow.
I never thought that I would ever be anything more than that. Existing on the outside of everyone else's lives. Watching. Waiting. And I never asked for anything more. I chose not to be like you. I chose not to show off. I chose not to make the effort. I was happy to observe whilst life sped by me, longing for the day when I could finally shut the door and never set a foot outside it again.
But then, something happened.
And this is where my story begins.
Sunday, 19 August 2007
The Horror of Sunday Afternoon Football
This is my second Sunday off in a Very Long Time.
We are celebrating this momentous occasion by having the football on All Afternoon. This wasn't my idea. My girlfriend and her sister's boyfriend have decided that this is the best thing we could possibly be doing with our Sunday off. I admit that the weather isn't too good, which would limit the possibility of going out and enjoying the fresh air, but I don't think that's really a good enough excuse for sitting in all day shouting at the television.
I like football. Don't get me wrong, Nothing can equal the feeling that you get when you're standing at your home-team's ground, cheering them on with thousands of other people. Plus they do Bovril at football matches, which is something I really love. However, watching random teams I don't care about in our front room just isn't as exhilarating I'm afraid.
It just doesn't do it for me.
The other thing that's making my mood less than jovial today is that my new job starts tomorrow and I have to go and stay in another city for at least three days. Maybe five. Maybe more. They haven't decided yet.
I was So pleased to get this job, I never really believed that I could do it so it's been an incredibly pleasant surprise that I did. Even the interview went well and I felt like they were actually listening to me and giving me a chance- which obviously they are now prepared to stick their necks out for. I know I'm a little bit of a risk for them as I'm not quite as qualified as I perhaps could be for my new position. But I Am a hard worker, and I Do believe in working for a company that seeks to improve the lives of their customers, rather than strip them of every penny they've got. So all these things are quite positive. I'm just nervous of the great unknown. This is due to the fact that I'm a tiny weeny bit of a control freak. I know this. I don't like being put in situation where I can't see at least five steps ahead, so all this turmoil is no doubt purely psychological. Which doesn't really make me feel much better.
Oh well, I got what I wanted. Now I just have to work out what to do with it....
We are celebrating this momentous occasion by having the football on All Afternoon. This wasn't my idea. My girlfriend and her sister's boyfriend have decided that this is the best thing we could possibly be doing with our Sunday off. I admit that the weather isn't too good, which would limit the possibility of going out and enjoying the fresh air, but I don't think that's really a good enough excuse for sitting in all day shouting at the television.
I like football. Don't get me wrong, Nothing can equal the feeling that you get when you're standing at your home-team's ground, cheering them on with thousands of other people. Plus they do Bovril at football matches, which is something I really love. However, watching random teams I don't care about in our front room just isn't as exhilarating I'm afraid.
It just doesn't do it for me.
The other thing that's making my mood less than jovial today is that my new job starts tomorrow and I have to go and stay in another city for at least three days. Maybe five. Maybe more. They haven't decided yet.
I was So pleased to get this job, I never really believed that I could do it so it's been an incredibly pleasant surprise that I did. Even the interview went well and I felt like they were actually listening to me and giving me a chance- which obviously they are now prepared to stick their necks out for. I know I'm a little bit of a risk for them as I'm not quite as qualified as I perhaps could be for my new position. But I Am a hard worker, and I Do believe in working for a company that seeks to improve the lives of their customers, rather than strip them of every penny they've got. So all these things are quite positive. I'm just nervous of the great unknown. This is due to the fact that I'm a tiny weeny bit of a control freak. I know this. I don't like being put in situation where I can't see at least five steps ahead, so all this turmoil is no doubt purely psychological. Which doesn't really make me feel much better.
Oh well, I got what I wanted. Now I just have to work out what to do with it....
Saturday, 18 August 2007
Writer's Block Is Pants
Hmmmm
I've really lapsed on my blog of late.
This is partly because of Facebook. I know I said it was rubbish but now I've got to grips with it, I've actually found that I enjoy using it, even if it is a bit complicated at times.
And part of it is that I truly can't think of anything much to write about. It seems that when I'm feeling good, all my creativity disappears off into the void and as I'm in such good spirits, it's not even that annoying.
Although, it has to be said that I wouldn't really wish bad things upon myself, just so I can write better as that would be stupid But, I do miss sitting down and ranting quietly into my computer keyboard.
I'm sure something will annoy me enough to get my brain back in gear again soon, but until then I don't think I'll be posting as much as I was before. July was obviously quite a stressful month for me!!
I've really lapsed on my blog of late.
This is partly because of Facebook. I know I said it was rubbish but now I've got to grips with it, I've actually found that I enjoy using it, even if it is a bit complicated at times.
And part of it is that I truly can't think of anything much to write about. It seems that when I'm feeling good, all my creativity disappears off into the void and as I'm in such good spirits, it's not even that annoying.
Although, it has to be said that I wouldn't really wish bad things upon myself, just so I can write better as that would be stupid But, I do miss sitting down and ranting quietly into my computer keyboard.
I'm sure something will annoy me enough to get my brain back in gear again soon, but until then I don't think I'll be posting as much as I was before. July was obviously quite a stressful month for me!!
Thursday, 9 August 2007
Am I The Only Person Who Thinks Facebook Is Rubbish?!
Now, I've had numerous problems since I became a Blogger.
I struggle with all this technical stuff, it's Really Difficult to get to the bottom of how things work. Or it is for little old me anyway.
Everyone I know and their granny keeps asking me if I'm on Facebook, and I wasn't but then I decided to give it a bash and signed up.
God, it's complicated.
Nothing is straightforward or easy to suss out, it makes Blogger look like finger-painting for monkeys.
And I had to make sure I 'blocked' my Evil Ex, which was more effort than I really wanted to make.
Ho-Hum.
I actually left the bingo hall yesterday. It was quite a sad occasion, and I have to confess to getting a bit upset at having to say goodbye to so many people that I will never see again. It was fairly weird and I don't really feel like I've left. I suppose it because I've been there for nearly seven years, so my whole life is going to change.
I got a new job. I can't remember if I mentioned it already but I got the one that I went to the interview for so I'm pretty excited. Not only is it actually doing something worthwhile, but I will be working from Monday to Friday between 9 and 5.30!!!
Woo-Hoo!!
I can't wait to get my social life back....
Not that it was ever really that great, but at least I had one.
I struggle with all this technical stuff, it's Really Difficult to get to the bottom of how things work. Or it is for little old me anyway.
Everyone I know and their granny keeps asking me if I'm on Facebook, and I wasn't but then I decided to give it a bash and signed up.
God, it's complicated.
Nothing is straightforward or easy to suss out, it makes Blogger look like finger-painting for monkeys.
And I had to make sure I 'blocked' my Evil Ex, which was more effort than I really wanted to make.
Ho-Hum.
I actually left the bingo hall yesterday. It was quite a sad occasion, and I have to confess to getting a bit upset at having to say goodbye to so many people that I will never see again. It was fairly weird and I don't really feel like I've left. I suppose it because I've been there for nearly seven years, so my whole life is going to change.
I got a new job. I can't remember if I mentioned it already but I got the one that I went to the interview for so I'm pretty excited. Not only is it actually doing something worthwhile, but I will be working from Monday to Friday between 9 and 5.30!!!
Woo-Hoo!!
I can't wait to get my social life back....
Not that it was ever really that great, but at least I had one.
Friday, 3 August 2007
I'm A Big Old Skiver!
It's been a little while since my last post.
This is because I have been Very Busy doing Other Things.
This included buying and reading the final installment of Harry Potter. I read the whole thing in under twenty-four hours but obviously had to avoid the Internet after it was released as I didn't want to accidentally stumble upon anything that ruined the ending for me. People just don't care about how upsetting it is to have someone get in the way of discovering things for yourself. It drives me mad when people tell me how a book or films ends before I've seen it. Especially when it's something I've been looking forward to.
So anyway, that's part of my excuse.
I only have a few days left before I become unemployed so my soon to be ex-employers have been working my fingers to the bone. I think they're hoping all this hard work will actually kill me, which to them would be a fitting revenge for my leaving. Not that they're letting on that not having me there will cause all sorts of problems for them. They still haven't sent me a replacement to train, out of pure bloody-minded stubbornness. That would indicate that I am currently needed- and that's the last thing they want me to know. Stupid people. Am glad I'm leaving all this crap behind, I have to say.
Also, we got Sky Movies at home. And Sky Sports. Films and Cricket!!! Yay!!! It does mean that my eyes are slowly going square, and my already failing eyesight is suffering but I get to watch all the things I love, 24 hours a day.
Brilliant.
Oh, and I decided to try and finish knitting the cushion cover I started about four months ago. Yes, knitting is a hobby of mine. It keeps my hands busy and stops me eating/smoking/drinking myself into an early grave.
So that's why I haven't posted for a little while.
Plus there's still nobody reading this so it doesn't really matter.
This is because I have been Very Busy doing Other Things.
This included buying and reading the final installment of Harry Potter. I read the whole thing in under twenty-four hours but obviously had to avoid the Internet after it was released as I didn't want to accidentally stumble upon anything that ruined the ending for me. People just don't care about how upsetting it is to have someone get in the way of discovering things for yourself. It drives me mad when people tell me how a book or films ends before I've seen it. Especially when it's something I've been looking forward to.
So anyway, that's part of my excuse.
I only have a few days left before I become unemployed so my soon to be ex-employers have been working my fingers to the bone. I think they're hoping all this hard work will actually kill me, which to them would be a fitting revenge for my leaving. Not that they're letting on that not having me there will cause all sorts of problems for them. They still haven't sent me a replacement to train, out of pure bloody-minded stubbornness. That would indicate that I am currently needed- and that's the last thing they want me to know. Stupid people. Am glad I'm leaving all this crap behind, I have to say.
Also, we got Sky Movies at home. And Sky Sports. Films and Cricket!!! Yay!!! It does mean that my eyes are slowly going square, and my already failing eyesight is suffering but I get to watch all the things I love, 24 hours a day.
Brilliant.
Oh, and I decided to try and finish knitting the cushion cover I started about four months ago. Yes, knitting is a hobby of mine. It keeps my hands busy and stops me eating/smoking/drinking myself into an early grave.
So that's why I haven't posted for a little while.
Plus there's still nobody reading this so it doesn't really matter.
Friday, 20 July 2007
I (Still) Can't Sleep
It is 6am.
I haven't slept since yesterday morning.
I am very tired.
I can't even go for a jog to clear my fuzzy brain as it is raining heavily and the river will be flooded along my usual route. Plus I don't really want to get wet as I felt really fluey yesterday and the sniffles have only just started to subside.
I have written three posts today (or yesterday, whatever). Can you get addicted to blogging? Has got to be healthier than the cigarettes and vodka I guess....
I have been writing much more recently though. Not that anybody is reading it. I don't know whether I would be happy if lots of people read my blog.
Should I want them to?
I've left a couple of comments on others people's blogs but I always feel like an intruder when I do. Even though there are a few that I read regularly, and if you're posting something on a public forum, surely you expect some sort of feedback?!
My problem is, I don't really know anybody else who blogs, so I don't know what the 'Internet etiquette' system is. I have no idea what's acceptable and what's not. I don't know whether I should be 'getting out there' and 'networking' trying to make lots of new Internet buddies so we can visit each others blogs and get those stats up! Is that what people do? I just don't know.
I'm not really a particularly friendly person in the real world. Well, I am but not straight away. I don't make a warm and fluffy first impression. I am a very loyal and loving friend but I take my time getting to know people. You can't really do that here. Or you can, but the person you're getting to know has no idea that you spend ten minutes a day dipping into their life. I think that's why reading other people's blogs makes me feel a bit strange. It's fairly voyeuristic but not at the same time because you only get to see what they want you to see. You can make yourself sound like Really Great Fun when you're actually a systems analyst who knits and plays chess for kicks.
If anybody is reading this, I could really use some advice. Or just a bit of reassurance. Or a hello....
I haven't slept since yesterday morning.
I am very tired.
I can't even go for a jog to clear my fuzzy brain as it is raining heavily and the river will be flooded along my usual route. Plus I don't really want to get wet as I felt really fluey yesterday and the sniffles have only just started to subside.
I have written three posts today (or yesterday, whatever). Can you get addicted to blogging? Has got to be healthier than the cigarettes and vodka I guess....
I have been writing much more recently though. Not that anybody is reading it. I don't know whether I would be happy if lots of people read my blog.
Should I want them to?
I've left a couple of comments on others people's blogs but I always feel like an intruder when I do. Even though there are a few that I read regularly, and if you're posting something on a public forum, surely you expect some sort of feedback?!
My problem is, I don't really know anybody else who blogs, so I don't know what the 'Internet etiquette' system is. I have no idea what's acceptable and what's not. I don't know whether I should be 'getting out there' and 'networking' trying to make lots of new Internet buddies so we can visit each others blogs and get those stats up! Is that what people do? I just don't know.
I'm not really a particularly friendly person in the real world. Well, I am but not straight away. I don't make a warm and fluffy first impression. I am a very loyal and loving friend but I take my time getting to know people. You can't really do that here. Or you can, but the person you're getting to know has no idea that you spend ten minutes a day dipping into their life. I think that's why reading other people's blogs makes me feel a bit strange. It's fairly voyeuristic but not at the same time because you only get to see what they want you to see. You can make yourself sound like Really Great Fun when you're actually a systems analyst who knits and plays chess for kicks.
If anybody is reading this, I could really use some advice. Or just a bit of reassurance. Or a hello....
Don't Believe The Stereotype!!
As a gay woman, I really should know better than to believe in stereotypes regarding other 'social groups'.
I do not own a pair of dungarees. I do not wear lumberjack shirts. I don't have a man's hair-cut nor do I weigh twenty stone. I don't work as a bus driver. I don't live in Brighton. I don't drink lager in a tankard. I avoid starting fights with large men if they throw a sideways glance at my girlfriend when we're out in public. Nobody has, to my knowledge, mistaken me for a boy recently.
In fact there is very little, in my outward appearance, to suggest that I might be gay. (I prefer that term to 'lesbian' as that word is so very synonymous to me of all the things that I am not.)
So you would think that I would avoid using stock stereotypes when it comes to making important decisions about other people.
Unfortunately for us, when my girlfriend and I first moved in together, we got ourselves a flatmate. We couldn't stay in my old flat as my Evil Ex wouldn't give me his key back or sign off the joint bank account until I signed the paperwork to give my notice to leave it. Ho Hum. Anyway, as our flatmate was a gay man, I stupidly assumed that he would be fastidious about housework, a great cook And incredibly tasteful and stylish when it came to decorating.
Not so.
He was the biggest, fattest, laziest slob I've ever met. His contribution to personalising the flat was a collection of nasty, cheap ceramic tigers, all of which were huge and a display cabinet held together with bits of gaffa tape and tin foil. Even now I have nightmares about those damn ugly tigers. Ugh.
He never once cleaned the bathroom or the kitchen. We would go out to work in the morning, leaving the flat clean and tidy. When we got home, he would have used every single plate, pot, pan, bowl and item of cutlery in our absence. Along with about a litre of cooking oil scorched on to the hob.
It was awful.
Then he got a boyfriend. The boyfriend was married with children. I'm not a hugely judgemental person (we All f*ck up from time to time) but they used to sit slagging his wife off something chronic. It made my blood boil because although she may well have been Attila The Hun, having the husband that you've invested half your life with running off with another man is just Not Nice. And it made me uncomfortable to hear my flatmate moaning about the time his new-found beau would spend with his children. The whole situation was pretty yucky.
The two of them were as vile as each other when it came to hygiene. And they were on My computer all day and night (until I removed all the wires from it one evening when they'd pissed me off one time too many). The new boyfriend didn't contribute anything to the household bills for Two Months. He was quite happy to drain all the resources, but when it came to paying for them it was a different story. To top it off, the original flatmate decided to quit his job and go unemployed for a while, so they got even worse with the bill-paying.
One day, we dropped home from work on our lunch-break. It was unplanned, I'd forgotten something or was waiting on a letter, I forget exactly why now. Our two Evil flatmates were loading their possessions (along with some of ours) into a van. And looking rather shocked to see us!
They pretty much screwed us over, and to this day still owe me about £800. I'll never get it back but I heard recently that Mr Married went back to his (clearly stupid) wife which is revenge enough for me.
The moral of the story is, don't let your brain trick you into believing in stereotypes. Because in life, these stock characters just don't exist. I'm sure there are gay men out there who have beautiful, well kept homes (I actually know several) but if you choose to share your home with one, check out his current address first. He might just turn out to be a pig in diva's clothing!
I do not own a pair of dungarees. I do not wear lumberjack shirts. I don't have a man's hair-cut nor do I weigh twenty stone. I don't work as a bus driver. I don't live in Brighton. I don't drink lager in a tankard. I avoid starting fights with large men if they throw a sideways glance at my girlfriend when we're out in public. Nobody has, to my knowledge, mistaken me for a boy recently.
In fact there is very little, in my outward appearance, to suggest that I might be gay. (I prefer that term to 'lesbian' as that word is so very synonymous to me of all the things that I am not.)
So you would think that I would avoid using stock stereotypes when it comes to making important decisions about other people.
Unfortunately for us, when my girlfriend and I first moved in together, we got ourselves a flatmate. We couldn't stay in my old flat as my Evil Ex wouldn't give me his key back or sign off the joint bank account until I signed the paperwork to give my notice to leave it. Ho Hum. Anyway, as our flatmate was a gay man, I stupidly assumed that he would be fastidious about housework, a great cook And incredibly tasteful and stylish when it came to decorating.
Not so.
He was the biggest, fattest, laziest slob I've ever met. His contribution to personalising the flat was a collection of nasty, cheap ceramic tigers, all of which were huge and a display cabinet held together with bits of gaffa tape and tin foil. Even now I have nightmares about those damn ugly tigers. Ugh.
He never once cleaned the bathroom or the kitchen. We would go out to work in the morning, leaving the flat clean and tidy. When we got home, he would have used every single plate, pot, pan, bowl and item of cutlery in our absence. Along with about a litre of cooking oil scorched on to the hob.
It was awful.
Then he got a boyfriend. The boyfriend was married with children. I'm not a hugely judgemental person (we All f*ck up from time to time) but they used to sit slagging his wife off something chronic. It made my blood boil because although she may well have been Attila The Hun, having the husband that you've invested half your life with running off with another man is just Not Nice. And it made me uncomfortable to hear my flatmate moaning about the time his new-found beau would spend with his children. The whole situation was pretty yucky.
The two of them were as vile as each other when it came to hygiene. And they were on My computer all day and night (until I removed all the wires from it one evening when they'd pissed me off one time too many). The new boyfriend didn't contribute anything to the household bills for Two Months. He was quite happy to drain all the resources, but when it came to paying for them it was a different story. To top it off, the original flatmate decided to quit his job and go unemployed for a while, so they got even worse with the bill-paying.
One day, we dropped home from work on our lunch-break. It was unplanned, I'd forgotten something or was waiting on a letter, I forget exactly why now. Our two Evil flatmates were loading their possessions (along with some of ours) into a van. And looking rather shocked to see us!
They pretty much screwed us over, and to this day still owe me about £800. I'll never get it back but I heard recently that Mr Married went back to his (clearly stupid) wife which is revenge enough for me.
The moral of the story is, don't let your brain trick you into believing in stereotypes. Because in life, these stock characters just don't exist. I'm sure there are gay men out there who have beautiful, well kept homes (I actually know several) but if you choose to share your home with one, check out his current address first. He might just turn out to be a pig in diva's clothing!
Thursday, 19 July 2007
I Hate It When I Get What I Want.....
I now have a job interview on Monday morning.
I am Very Scared.
It has been a year since my last job interview, and the last one I had didn't go very well.
This was largely because it was for a job within the gaming industry, and the people who were interviewing me had no intention of giving me the job I'd applied for as it transpired they were actually only promoting internally, but had to offer the job outside the company to fulfill legal requirements. And they were blatantly Office people who asked me questions like-
"When was the last time that you were part of an award-winning team!"
And didn't ask me questions about all the relevant experience that I had. Or the fact I was already in possession of most of the certificates that the other candidates would be gaining whilst in their new position. Needless to say, it left me feeling Very Annoyed that although I was apparently the Most Intelligent Person ever to take their stupid literacy and numeracy tests, (Oh yes, this was the longest, most drawn out interview process I have Ever been through) according to them, I had the Best test results they had Ever seen in the whole history of recruiting people into their corporate evil empire, I was still not good enough. And this was for a job that, on paper, I was so horribly overqualified for it was ridiculous.
They Did offer me a large number of other positions, and I got a bit of revenge by stringing them along for a few months, getting them to up their offers several times before I turned them down. They messed me about, and being able to say thanks but no thanks at the end after they attempted to con me into a position that was quite a bit back down the ladder from where I'd already worked my backside off to get to, was ultimately a hollow victory. But it made me feel a bit better at the time.
That experience has left me a bit wary of being interviewed again although, as I will be unemployed in three weeks time, I am going to have to bite the bullet and go for as many as I possibly can. I've been applying for jobs for a few months now, and this is the first one to offer me an interview. I really want the job too. It's not like its just a boring desk job, it's fairly similar to what I do now, only without the gambling. It's basically helping disadvantaged people find work. I won't actually be doing that, but I'll be manning the front desk with a fair bit of autonomy within my little domain. I get to refill the coffee machine and everything! I haven't described it very well but, it suits my ethics and I'll actually get to speak to people and organise things, which is exactly what I've been looking for.
I just hope that I'm actually being given a chance and am not just a statistic so that they get to tick a little box and stop a man from the government coming round to tell them off......
I am Very Scared.
It has been a year since my last job interview, and the last one I had didn't go very well.
This was largely because it was for a job within the gaming industry, and the people who were interviewing me had no intention of giving me the job I'd applied for as it transpired they were actually only promoting internally, but had to offer the job outside the company to fulfill legal requirements. And they were blatantly Office people who asked me questions like-
"When was the last time that you were part of an award-winning team!"
And didn't ask me questions about all the relevant experience that I had. Or the fact I was already in possession of most of the certificates that the other candidates would be gaining whilst in their new position. Needless to say, it left me feeling Very Annoyed that although I was apparently the Most Intelligent Person ever to take their stupid literacy and numeracy tests, (Oh yes, this was the longest, most drawn out interview process I have Ever been through) according to them, I had the Best test results they had Ever seen in the whole history of recruiting people into their corporate evil empire, I was still not good enough. And this was for a job that, on paper, I was so horribly overqualified for it was ridiculous.
They Did offer me a large number of other positions, and I got a bit of revenge by stringing them along for a few months, getting them to up their offers several times before I turned them down. They messed me about, and being able to say thanks but no thanks at the end after they attempted to con me into a position that was quite a bit back down the ladder from where I'd already worked my backside off to get to, was ultimately a hollow victory. But it made me feel a bit better at the time.
That experience has left me a bit wary of being interviewed again although, as I will be unemployed in three weeks time, I am going to have to bite the bullet and go for as many as I possibly can. I've been applying for jobs for a few months now, and this is the first one to offer me an interview. I really want the job too. It's not like its just a boring desk job, it's fairly similar to what I do now, only without the gambling. It's basically helping disadvantaged people find work. I won't actually be doing that, but I'll be manning the front desk with a fair bit of autonomy within my little domain. I get to refill the coffee machine and everything! I haven't described it very well but, it suits my ethics and I'll actually get to speak to people and organise things, which is exactly what I've been looking for.
I just hope that I'm actually being given a chance and am not just a statistic so that they get to tick a little box and stop a man from the government coming round to tell them off......
Wednesday, 18 July 2007
The Cat Fantastique!
When I am reincarnated, (if that's what happens, which is a Whole different post in itself) I would like to come back as a cat.
Cats are easily my favourite animals (apart from maybe koala bears but apparently you can't have a koala as a pet in Britain. Or maybe you can but Pets at Home don't stock them). I've always had a pet cat, except when our family cat died when I was thirteen, and we were all too distraught to get another one for a few years. I got another kitten when I was about twenty, and had started working. She is apparently the most destructive cat my mum has Ever had. She breaks stuff if she doesn't get her own way. Like if it's raining and she wants to go outside, which is Obviously my mum's fault. I left home at twenty-four (don't laugh) and had to leave her with my parents as my Evil Ex (more of him another time) didn't want her to come and live with us because he was "allergic" to cats. It transpired he wasn't allergic at all, just a complete twat.
A Tip- If you are in a relationship with somebody who doesn't like animals of any kind, it's pretty much doomed to fail. In my experience, people who don't like animals always turn out to be Evil in some way. It's True.
Anyhoo, I had a couple of cat-free years until last Autumn when my girlfriend said it was OK for us to get one as-
a) our Evil gay flatmates (who didn't like cats) had done a runner and,
b) it was our anniversary and she wanted to do something to make me happy.
So we went through the free-ads and went to the first people who had kittens for sale that actually bothered to answer their phone.
When we got there I decided in about three seconds that I had to rescue at least one kitten from that house. It was filthy. There were a number of animals there including a dog, several cats and a large parrot that kept saying "Bastard". They gave me one of the bedraggled kittens to hold and she just sat there. She smelt Really Bad and was soaking wet. Normally, a kitten in a happy home won't sit still for a nanosecond but she didn't budge an inch. There was also a boy but he disappeared behind the washing machine and they couldn't get him out.
The thing that shocked me was that they wanted £60 for each kitten. We tried to haggle (which is something my girlfriend is normally Really Good at) but they wouldn't budge on the price. If they had been cheaper, I would've taken them both but we couldn't afford that much. To this day, I feel terrible that I didn't rescue that little cat. I do hope he found a happy home with people that actually gave two shits about him. These people made me really cross. They already clearly had a moggy that they had not bothered to get spayed. Unless you are a breeder, there is No Excuse for this. The resulting babies were simply money to them. People like these should be put in the stocks so the rest of civilised society can throw mouldy fruit at them. They should be Ashamed!
So we took the little girl and she is now our baby. She is currently sound asleep on the sofa behind me. We also have a hamster at home. We keep them separate although, weirdly, the hamster seems to take immense pleasure in winding the cat up, if she's around. Guaranteed, if the kitten's in our room, the hamster will do a full gymnastic display until we take her out again. This is probably because the hamster secretly knows that the cat is a complete wimp, whereas the hamster has the morals of a serial killer. She really is brutal, although she likes me, nobody else is allowed to try and put their hands in her cage. Not if they want to keep all their fingers in any case.
Our pets are spoilt, I confess. The cat is getting fatter by the day and has the most advanced array of cat-toys and gadgets you've Ever seen. Our friends have children with less stuff. I don't care though, if you're going to have a pet, it's your responsibility to make sure they have a happy and fulfilled life. Even the hamster eats organic!
So I'd like to be a cat next time around. It's the whole eat, sleep, eat, play, sleep, eat, sleep, play thing that does it for me. And my cat always gets her own way (apart form when she wants to chew the wires behind the TV). And she is loved very much.
Sounds like Heaven if you ask me!
Cats are easily my favourite animals (apart from maybe koala bears but apparently you can't have a koala as a pet in Britain. Or maybe you can but Pets at Home don't stock them). I've always had a pet cat, except when our family cat died when I was thirteen, and we were all too distraught to get another one for a few years. I got another kitten when I was about twenty, and had started working. She is apparently the most destructive cat my mum has Ever had. She breaks stuff if she doesn't get her own way. Like if it's raining and she wants to go outside, which is Obviously my mum's fault. I left home at twenty-four (don't laugh) and had to leave her with my parents as my Evil Ex (more of him another time) didn't want her to come and live with us because he was "allergic" to cats. It transpired he wasn't allergic at all, just a complete twat.
A Tip- If you are in a relationship with somebody who doesn't like animals of any kind, it's pretty much doomed to fail. In my experience, people who don't like animals always turn out to be Evil in some way. It's True.
Anyhoo, I had a couple of cat-free years until last Autumn when my girlfriend said it was OK for us to get one as-
a) our Evil gay flatmates (who didn't like cats) had done a runner and,
b) it was our anniversary and she wanted to do something to make me happy.
So we went through the free-ads and went to the first people who had kittens for sale that actually bothered to answer their phone.
When we got there I decided in about three seconds that I had to rescue at least one kitten from that house. It was filthy. There were a number of animals there including a dog, several cats and a large parrot that kept saying "Bastard". They gave me one of the bedraggled kittens to hold and she just sat there. She smelt Really Bad and was soaking wet. Normally, a kitten in a happy home won't sit still for a nanosecond but she didn't budge an inch. There was also a boy but he disappeared behind the washing machine and they couldn't get him out.
The thing that shocked me was that they wanted £60 for each kitten. We tried to haggle (which is something my girlfriend is normally Really Good at) but they wouldn't budge on the price. If they had been cheaper, I would've taken them both but we couldn't afford that much. To this day, I feel terrible that I didn't rescue that little cat. I do hope he found a happy home with people that actually gave two shits about him. These people made me really cross. They already clearly had a moggy that they had not bothered to get spayed. Unless you are a breeder, there is No Excuse for this. The resulting babies were simply money to them. People like these should be put in the stocks so the rest of civilised society can throw mouldy fruit at them. They should be Ashamed!
So we took the little girl and she is now our baby. She is currently sound asleep on the sofa behind me. We also have a hamster at home. We keep them separate although, weirdly, the hamster seems to take immense pleasure in winding the cat up, if she's around. Guaranteed, if the kitten's in our room, the hamster will do a full gymnastic display until we take her out again. This is probably because the hamster secretly knows that the cat is a complete wimp, whereas the hamster has the morals of a serial killer. She really is brutal, although she likes me, nobody else is allowed to try and put their hands in her cage. Not if they want to keep all their fingers in any case.
Our pets are spoilt, I confess. The cat is getting fatter by the day and has the most advanced array of cat-toys and gadgets you've Ever seen. Our friends have children with less stuff. I don't care though, if you're going to have a pet, it's your responsibility to make sure they have a happy and fulfilled life. Even the hamster eats organic!
So I'd like to be a cat next time around. It's the whole eat, sleep, eat, play, sleep, eat, sleep, play thing that does it for me. And my cat always gets her own way (apart form when she wants to chew the wires behind the TV). And she is loved very much.
Sounds like Heaven if you ask me!
I Can't Sleep!
It is about 3.20am.
I have to get up at 8.30am for work.
For the third night in a row, I will get maybe 4 hours sleep- IF I am lucky.
Today, I am not loving my insomnia.....
I'm so tired.
Boo-Hoo.
I have to get up at 8.30am for work.
For the third night in a row, I will get maybe 4 hours sleep- IF I am lucky.
Today, I am not loving my insomnia.....
I'm so tired.
Boo-Hoo.
Monday, 16 July 2007
I Ain't Boverd!
Catherine Tate is currently on the TV, which you may be surprised to learn is where I got the inspiration for my post title today. Or Not.
Yesterday, I had too much to say and too little time. Today I still have much to say but since I sat down at my computer, my brain seems to have gone out for a walk or something. It's not often that I am stuck for words.
I Did hand my notice in though. I was brave and have spent most of today feeling oddly relieved that the end is in sight for my appallingly bad job. Hurrah! I can't wait to get out of there and into the Big Wide World. It's Very Exciting. And also Really Scary.
Most people will tell you that you should never leave a job until you get another one. I've been applying for jobs and nobody wants me yet so I'm just going to have to keep my fingers crossed that something comes up. In actual fact, I've always left my previous jobs before I've got another one. Nothing will motivate you in quite the same way fear does. It'll make you actually bother going to the Job Centre or fill in that thirtieth form. It certainly works for me anyway. For me, having some sort of Real motivation that goes beyond the fact that something is merely annoying or a nuisance, is paramount to my getting off my arse. Because I kinda like sitting on it unfortunately.
I have no idea what I want to do though, which may cause a few problems down the line. All I do know is that I don't want to work weird hours any more. My sleep pattern is more erratic than ever at the moment, and I don't know how much more of it I can cope with. So 9 to 5 is about the only thing I care about. And No More Weekends! I've done my fair share for this lifetime I think.....
Yesterday, I had too much to say and too little time. Today I still have much to say but since I sat down at my computer, my brain seems to have gone out for a walk or something. It's not often that I am stuck for words.
I Did hand my notice in though. I was brave and have spent most of today feeling oddly relieved that the end is in sight for my appallingly bad job. Hurrah! I can't wait to get out of there and into the Big Wide World. It's Very Exciting. And also Really Scary.
Most people will tell you that you should never leave a job until you get another one. I've been applying for jobs and nobody wants me yet so I'm just going to have to keep my fingers crossed that something comes up. In actual fact, I've always left my previous jobs before I've got another one. Nothing will motivate you in quite the same way fear does. It'll make you actually bother going to the Job Centre or fill in that thirtieth form. It certainly works for me anyway. For me, having some sort of Real motivation that goes beyond the fact that something is merely annoying or a nuisance, is paramount to my getting off my arse. Because I kinda like sitting on it unfortunately.
I have no idea what I want to do though, which may cause a few problems down the line. All I do know is that I don't want to work weird hours any more. My sleep pattern is more erratic than ever at the moment, and I don't know how much more of it I can cope with. So 9 to 5 is about the only thing I care about. And No More Weekends! I've done my fair share for this lifetime I think.....
Sunday, 15 July 2007
I Don't Believe In Being Brave....
I've done it.
Or should I say, I'm doing it tomorrow.
I am handing in my notice, and waving good-bye to the bingo hall Forever!!
As I don't yet have a job to go to, I am A Bit Scared, but am sure it will be OK.....
I figured it was time to Just Do It, and to be honest, I always walk the tight-rope better without a safety net so am feeling weirdly positive about risking becoming an unemployment statistic. I'm going to write a proper post tomorrow, when I actually have some time to but I just Had to write this down now as it is Very Important. To me, anyway...
Or should I say, I'm doing it tomorrow.
I am handing in my notice, and waving good-bye to the bingo hall Forever!!
As I don't yet have a job to go to, I am A Bit Scared, but am sure it will be OK.....
I figured it was time to Just Do It, and to be honest, I always walk the tight-rope better without a safety net so am feeling weirdly positive about risking becoming an unemployment statistic. I'm going to write a proper post tomorrow, when I actually have some time to but I just Had to write this down now as it is Very Important. To me, anyway...
Thursday, 12 July 2007
I'm Having Some Technical Difficulty...
There is something wrong with my blog.
I don't know quite what to do with it though, it's Very Irritating.
Every time I log on, it's going back several posts and not showing my new ones until I click on 'July'. At first I thought they were just disappearing but they're not. I've said before that I find computers confusing. This is an example of my problem. Somethings not right, I don't know exactly what's wrong, and have no idea how to resolve this issue. It's probably because I got a bit overconfident with it and did a lot of fiddling around. It's probably broken somehow, and that would more than likely be my fault. But it might not be, it could just be my computer being possessed or some sort of programming problem. I have no idea.
I don't even know who I could ask. Not that I would, I can't face the patronising ridicule that you get when you ask somebody who understands these things what's gone wrong. So it'll have to stay broken I guess.....
Stupid Computer.
I don't know quite what to do with it though, it's Very Irritating.
Every time I log on, it's going back several posts and not showing my new ones until I click on 'July'. At first I thought they were just disappearing but they're not. I've said before that I find computers confusing. This is an example of my problem. Somethings not right, I don't know exactly what's wrong, and have no idea how to resolve this issue. It's probably because I got a bit overconfident with it and did a lot of fiddling around. It's probably broken somehow, and that would more than likely be my fault. But it might not be, it could just be my computer being possessed or some sort of programming problem. I have no idea.
I don't even know who I could ask. Not that I would, I can't face the patronising ridicule that you get when you ask somebody who understands these things what's gone wrong. So it'll have to stay broken I guess.....
Stupid Computer.
Being Hungover Is Rubbish...
Yesterday I had the worst hangover I've had since I was a teenager.
To make it even more unbearable, I had to go to work. I told my manager that I was still drunk, sorry about that. Unlike every other manager in the country, he didn't send me home. If it hadn't been for my girlfriend covering for me all afternoon, nothing would've got done.
What happened was that a very good friend of mine is getting married on Friday (The Thirteenth!). It was his Wife to Be's hen night and we thought we'd go along for a few hours, to say hi really as we don't see enough of them. We ended up in town. I Really Don't Like town. However, because of the smoking ban, everywhere was totally dead so it wasn't all that bad. Unfortunately, I accidentally drank about 3 litres of cocktails. I was absolutely fine one moment, and very much not so the next. I don't remember getting home.
Apparently we went back to my friend's house where I was very loud and annoying and saying the same thing over and over again. Luckily for me, my friends are very good friends and love me very much so no major damage done. Plus I was mainly saying how much I love them and how beautiful their son is, and even though I was annoying, it's not the sort of thing that people are cross with you about the next day after a heavy night.
My girlfriend was sober and can remember everything which is a pain. Luckily for me, she has the patience of a saint and wasn't too cross with me the next day. She was not happy about the fact that Someone had a wee on the bathroom floor during the night. I think it was the cat.....
If it Was me, it meant I got up stark naked and was wandering round the house in the morning, which is when my girlfriend's brother gets home from work (he lives with us). So I really hope it wasn't me. I certainly didn't feel like I had moved from the same position when I woke up so am having very crossed fingers that it was the cat........
I wish I had a bit more self-control when it comes to my alcohol consumption. I can give up, I quit alcohol altogether for over two years once but I Really Like drinking. I wish that I would always know when I've had enough and could just leave that last cocktail that always pushes me over the edge......
I don't know that I'll ever learn but that hangover was a pretty harsh lesson yesterday in how you shouldn't drink on a work night when you have a eleven hour shift to get through the next day!
To make it even more unbearable, I had to go to work. I told my manager that I was still drunk, sorry about that. Unlike every other manager in the country, he didn't send me home. If it hadn't been for my girlfriend covering for me all afternoon, nothing would've got done.
What happened was that a very good friend of mine is getting married on Friday (The Thirteenth!). It was his Wife to Be's hen night and we thought we'd go along for a few hours, to say hi really as we don't see enough of them. We ended up in town. I Really Don't Like town. However, because of the smoking ban, everywhere was totally dead so it wasn't all that bad. Unfortunately, I accidentally drank about 3 litres of cocktails. I was absolutely fine one moment, and very much not so the next. I don't remember getting home.
Apparently we went back to my friend's house where I was very loud and annoying and saying the same thing over and over again. Luckily for me, my friends are very good friends and love me very much so no major damage done. Plus I was mainly saying how much I love them and how beautiful their son is, and even though I was annoying, it's not the sort of thing that people are cross with you about the next day after a heavy night.
My girlfriend was sober and can remember everything which is a pain. Luckily for me, she has the patience of a saint and wasn't too cross with me the next day. She was not happy about the fact that Someone had a wee on the bathroom floor during the night. I think it was the cat.....
If it Was me, it meant I got up stark naked and was wandering round the house in the morning, which is when my girlfriend's brother gets home from work (he lives with us). So I really hope it wasn't me. I certainly didn't feel like I had moved from the same position when I woke up so am having very crossed fingers that it was the cat........
I wish I had a bit more self-control when it comes to my alcohol consumption. I can give up, I quit alcohol altogether for over two years once but I Really Like drinking. I wish that I would always know when I've had enough and could just leave that last cocktail that always pushes me over the edge......
I don't know that I'll ever learn but that hangover was a pretty harsh lesson yesterday in how you shouldn't drink on a work night when you have a eleven hour shift to get through the next day!
Monday, 9 July 2007
Things That Make Me Smile...!!
I am not going to give up the moaning.
However, I've been organising my blog and reading my posts back and I thought that perhaps it wouldn't hurt to bring a little sunshine into my rather gloomy and self-obsessed world.
The following is a list of things that make me smile-
However, I've been organising my blog and reading my posts back and I thought that perhaps it wouldn't hurt to bring a little sunshine into my rather gloomy and self-obsessed world.
The following is a list of things that make me smile-
- My beautiful, funny, smart girlfriend
- My pets
- South Park
- Long Lie-Ins
- Going to run a bath and discovering that the person before me has cleaned it out themselves and not left a layer of hair and dirt for me to clean.
- Jammie Dodgers
- Being inside when it's raining outside
- Vodka
- Getting to the end of the month, and realising that I have money left
- Salt and Vinegar Kettle Chips
- Popcorn
- Sunbathing
- Laughing so hard it makes me cry
- Answering the door to discover it IS a friend and NOT a Jehovah's Witness or a sweaty salesman
- Top Gear
This is not an exhaustive list, but it pretty much sums up the things I can think of right now. All these things make me happy and to be honest, although I do use my blog to rant and rave, I have a lot of laughter in my life.
I enjoy life very much, but I believe in Living. I like experiences that make me feel things, be it good or bad. I don't tend to do things in half-measures, which is perhaps why when things go wrong, it feels like the Universe is imploding around me. I just wanted to inject a little bit of positivity into my musings.
Now, back to being cross........
The Story Of The Unhappy Slug...
So I went back to work today.
Monday is only a half-shift for me, so I get the evening to mooch around the flat and watch lots of Jerry Springer and Judge Judy. Many people are a bit snobby about daytime television. They seem to think that it's only for people who struggle to spell their own name, or who marry their own cousins. For me, seeing how some people manage to get through life, despite not being able to string a sentence together is incredibly fascinating. I love watching their orchestrated fights on Jerry, or how some people will sue their mothers because "she borrowed a tenner once and never paid it back". It makes me feel safe because although sometimes it feels like my life is pretty awful, it will never be as bad as it is for these weirdos. And the saddest thing is, the majority of them aren't even smart enough to realise that they're missing out on all sorts of things. Or maybe they don't care, I don't know as I'm not exactly Sigmund Freud when it come to psychoanalysing other people.
This brings me to the Slug at work.
She is a person, we haven't got some sort of infestation (not that I'm aware of, anyway).
I call her the Slug because she spends all day chewing the part of her fingers that used to be her fingernails and everything she touches ends up being covered in dribble (a bit like as if a slug had crawled across it). It's disgusting.
I'm not a Total clean freak but I like clean hands on other people. And your mouth has more bacteria in than your bum! Not that I'd be particularly over the moon if somebody tried to pay for their bingo books with money covered in feces, but dribble is just as gross- unless the person handing something to you is under 4 years of age.
She also has a voice which I can only liken to a veritable orchestra of cats, all sharpening their claws on a ginormous blackboard simultaneously. It's awful. And she puts an 's' on the end of almost every verb she says, IE-
"I wants and needs a new kitchen"
AAAAARRRRGGGHHH!!!
I can't stomach the woman at the best of times but today, after being away from work for a whole week, I came extremely close to vaulting the counter and stapling her fat, stupid head to the carpet.
It was a shame really, as apart from the Slug, I had a pretty good afternoon. The customers were fairly annoying, but not so much as usual, and I was feeling fairly calm about all the things that normally wind me up and make me feel like I will become a victim of spontaneous human combustion at any given moment.
I was going to turn over a new leaf and try and cut the moaning down on my posts but I've changed my mind, I enjoy it far too much!
Monday is only a half-shift for me, so I get the evening to mooch around the flat and watch lots of Jerry Springer and Judge Judy. Many people are a bit snobby about daytime television. They seem to think that it's only for people who struggle to spell their own name, or who marry their own cousins. For me, seeing how some people manage to get through life, despite not being able to string a sentence together is incredibly fascinating. I love watching their orchestrated fights on Jerry, or how some people will sue their mothers because "she borrowed a tenner once and never paid it back". It makes me feel safe because although sometimes it feels like my life is pretty awful, it will never be as bad as it is for these weirdos. And the saddest thing is, the majority of them aren't even smart enough to realise that they're missing out on all sorts of things. Or maybe they don't care, I don't know as I'm not exactly Sigmund Freud when it come to psychoanalysing other people.
This brings me to the Slug at work.
She is a person, we haven't got some sort of infestation (not that I'm aware of, anyway).
I call her the Slug because she spends all day chewing the part of her fingers that used to be her fingernails and everything she touches ends up being covered in dribble (a bit like as if a slug had crawled across it). It's disgusting.
I'm not a Total clean freak but I like clean hands on other people. And your mouth has more bacteria in than your bum! Not that I'd be particularly over the moon if somebody tried to pay for their bingo books with money covered in feces, but dribble is just as gross- unless the person handing something to you is under 4 years of age.
She also has a voice which I can only liken to a veritable orchestra of cats, all sharpening their claws on a ginormous blackboard simultaneously. It's awful. And she puts an 's' on the end of almost every verb she says, IE-
"I wants and needs a new kitchen"
AAAAARRRRGGGHHH!!!
I can't stomach the woman at the best of times but today, after being away from work for a whole week, I came extremely close to vaulting the counter and stapling her fat, stupid head to the carpet.
It was a shame really, as apart from the Slug, I had a pretty good afternoon. The customers were fairly annoying, but not so much as usual, and I was feeling fairly calm about all the things that normally wind me up and make me feel like I will become a victim of spontaneous human combustion at any given moment.
I was going to turn over a new leaf and try and cut the moaning down on my posts but I've changed my mind, I enjoy it far too much!
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