Here we are again.... contemplating yet another move. 2010 was going to be the year of the big move... again... and given that I find myself having to pack and move out by mid March, I'm wondering why I'm even bothering. The fact that my font selector has disappeared, is not doing anything to improve my glowering disposition. For a woman who HATES packing and unpacking, I certainly seem to wind up doing more than an average person would expect to do. Unholy poetic justice? Kismet? MFC of a Landlord? Hardly matters. 22nd Feb, and I have nowhere to go yet, and contents that breed prolifically. It's all very well to have Mimi gushing about how my personality is stamped all over the place, but perhaps I should just leave it all behind.
Stupidity
is not cured by advancing years. If anything, it's amplified. Sometimes I wonder if it's contagious. But then I realise, it's just me... the classic should've known better syndrome. Advancing years just lend a creative bent that was missing when you didn't know better. This time around, the embellishments are more elaborate and ornate. Because, this time around, there is more to hide. But the stupidity is just a veil, and the discomfort afforded by peeling it off, fades into insignificance as you look at yourself. Really look at yourself. Dragging the reluctant thoughts lurking in your subconscious out into the open. Confronting them. Unsure in your interpretation, but instinctively knowing you're right. It's always fear that holds you back. Only fear. Little ones, large ones, gargantuan ones. Only ever fear. And all we ever have to fear, is fear itself. I think I've completely mixed my metaphors... that's what happens with stream of consciousness ...telling. It's not that I didn't know.... I just chose to ignore it for the ride. Or am I choosing my rides because I know they're set up to fail?
Colossus
thy name is the male ego.... nothing like a good old fashioned it's all my fault stance to take inertia to new levels. The fine art of supreme sacrifice and nobility, Hercules taking on the world just as long as he doesn't have to stretch too far for the remote. Why should anything be simple? Where's the ability to grandstand and sacrifice there?? Just more bullshit. Some things really don't ever change when it comes to the male of the species. Let's just protect the little woman shall we, coz she's just a friggin' idiot. I mean, no one really believes they have the sense to make their own choices, so let's not bother with confrontation, she's soft in the head anyhow..Oho... look, another benevolent touch... I'm only making you angry to make it easier for you to deal with. It was just too damn special to keep. Fucking patronising jerk. Just don't bother with the mouth to mouth when I choke on my own bile. Or how to lose your pack in 3 easy steps. Why bother to engage when disengaging is so much less taxing? What a fucking waste of time, energy and emotion....
P.S. - vitriolic outburts lead to stonking headaches that threaten to splatter your eyeballs across the room....
P.S. - vitriolic outburts lead to stonking headaches that threaten to splatter your eyeballs across the room....
The truth hurts. No matter what angle you look at it from, when you finally wade through all the subterfuge your able mind has spun, and come face to face with it, naked, nothing left to hide behind, it shocks you. Makes you question your motives. Makes you look at your life and wonder at the choices you've made. Marginal fears that you thought were so far behind you as to be forgotten... but never having been laid to rest, they now come back to haunt you. Surely healed scar tissue cannot bleed?? How do I make it stop? Those feelings that overwhelmed me once before, rapaciously grabbing at me, insistent on dragging me into the void again. The recognition of the humiliation of reverting to type, of falling victim to the same pattern is scant consolation as the wound oozes with impunity.
Art imitates life..
9 draft posts... a number of which I've just deleted because I have absolutely no clue what the cryptic summons of the few hastily typed words were meant to have conveyed. It's just so easily to let things slide. Life will, and does go on in spite of you. But I've had enough... enough of letting it slide. Time to sit up straight again and pick up the reins. With the blog and with my life. A new year. A new partner to the team. A new flat. A new lover (or four). A visit to Cal after too long. Time to move on.
TV Terror
My aalo phulgobi chingri tastes shockingly good and I move my attention to my panchphoron beans. Obviously, my normally susceptible sensibilities were able to resist an utterly insincere Aishwariya Rai in Bride and Prejudice. A classic endorsement of why looks will always win over talent. I have yet to see anyone as artificial, wooden, pretentious and unidimensionally pretty as that woman, and I'm not even going to pretend to comprehend the origins of her strangely accented English. I will admit to never having liked her, but in this film... my God! She is beyond P-A-T-H-E-Y-T-I-C!
By the time I'm done with my culinary display, the beautiful one has given way to a couple of men sleeping.... with birds chirping in the early dawn. 17 past the witching hour and I settle myself down wondering what adventures their new day will bring. But they just continue to sleep.....
What on earth is this? I pay greater attention to the screen, my razor sharp mind registering twin beds, one with a hideous headboard that is a clown with an open mouth (Freud would've gone to town with this one!), white satin sheets... a rather bizarre bedroom, on E4. A stray synapse wonders if someone actually pay to have this produced? I'm dying to know if.. oh hang on - he shifted his leg... and continues to sleep. Is this just a program on some dude sleeping? My other synapses now join in the fray, and there's a lively debate on how much longer can I control my twitchy arm from reaching for the remote and making it go away? It's now been about four minutes .... no, five and a half... and they chirpy birds seem to have given way to crows, but I'm not sure if they're in the TV or in my head!!
I surrender... finger quivering over the remote.... maybe another minute.... a-ha! He turned... hand uplifted, pretending to be a bird?? Maybe this is just deeply sophisticated and existential. Uh oh, it's wavering... it falls. Fascinating. I think I'm going to eat my lovely phanchphorner aalo beanser torkari....Damn I'm good. Another synapse intervenes - could this be Big Brother? I seem to have vague recollections of someone say something about watching people sleep.... and I thought they had been kidding???? 23 past and even the panchphoron cannot save the situation.... my scientific efforts at elucidation crumbles and my fingers maul the remote. I think that sleep fest might be entitled Brothers and Sisters?? WFT?? Perhaps I shall remember to inquire around tomorrow for illumination... or perhaps not.... Hark! QI XL - all is not yet lost... Stephen and his intellgensia to the rescue!
By the time I'm done with my culinary display, the beautiful one has given way to a couple of men sleeping.... with birds chirping in the early dawn. 17 past the witching hour and I settle myself down wondering what adventures their new day will bring. But they just continue to sleep.....
What on earth is this? I pay greater attention to the screen, my razor sharp mind registering twin beds, one with a hideous headboard that is a clown with an open mouth (Freud would've gone to town with this one!), white satin sheets... a rather bizarre bedroom, on E4. A stray synapse wonders if someone actually pay to have this produced? I'm dying to know if.. oh hang on - he shifted his leg... and continues to sleep. Is this just a program on some dude sleeping? My other synapses now join in the fray, and there's a lively debate on how much longer can I control my twitchy arm from reaching for the remote and making it go away? It's now been about four minutes .... no, five and a half... and they chirpy birds seem to have given way to crows, but I'm not sure if they're in the TV or in my head!!
I surrender... finger quivering over the remote.... maybe another minute.... a-ha! He turned... hand uplifted, pretending to be a bird?? Maybe this is just deeply sophisticated and existential. Uh oh, it's wavering... it falls. Fascinating. I think I'm going to eat my lovely phanchphorner aalo beanser torkari....Damn I'm good. Another synapse intervenes - could this be Big Brother? I seem to have vague recollections of someone say something about watching people sleep.... and I thought they had been kidding???? 23 past and even the panchphoron cannot save the situation.... my scientific efforts at elucidation crumbles and my fingers maul the remote. I think that sleep fest might be entitled Brothers and Sisters?? WFT?? Perhaps I shall remember to inquire around tomorrow for illumination... or perhaps not.... Hark! QI XL - all is not yet lost... Stephen and his intellgensia to the rescue!
Winter Wonderland... NOT!
The dirty slush underfoot conceals the sly slivers of ice that make my walk home reminiscent of a penguin.... the secret of their locomotion finally revealed. The pristine white along the edge of the kerb, interrupted by little footprints, mocks my wary tread. The excitement at the sight of the swift flurry's outside the window melts into an ugly morass that is a city that seldom holds with settling snow.
The pretty newsreader's eyes widen as she informs us of the Arctic conditions with 18" of snow wracking havoc all over the UK :) (although my Dutch client believes the Anglo Saxons are just whiny wankers.... 'you don't hear the Russians complaining do you?!'). Winter wonderland London is most definitely not, and I can only be grateful for having seen the wonderland that snow can be up in the Alps (although, my gratitude was markedly absent at 7am as we precariously made our way through walls of snow to class!!)... or it could just be the thaw in my flat :).
Nothing like endless flights, lost luggage, daft deadlines and a cold front to slap away your holiday jollies...!! One can only hope this weekend's photo swap will be a fond wallow in memories of what was.....
The pretty newsreader's eyes widen as she informs us of the Arctic conditions with 18" of snow wracking havoc all over the UK :) (although my Dutch client believes the Anglo Saxons are just whiny wankers.... 'you don't hear the Russians complaining do you?!'). Winter wonderland London is most definitely not, and I can only be grateful for having seen the wonderland that snow can be up in the Alps (although, my gratitude was markedly absent at 7am as we precariously made our way through walls of snow to class!!)... or it could just be the thaw in my flat :).
Nothing like endless flights, lost luggage, daft deadlines and a cold front to slap away your holiday jollies...!! One can only hope this weekend's photo swap will be a fond wallow in memories of what was.....
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