Eric's House

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Posts Tagged ‘woes’

Glow

Right now, the living room is lit up with the ethereal glow of fairy lights – something that puts Ian in mind of christmas and makes me happy. When I was younger, I used to envy some of my friends because they were allowed to have fairy lights in their rooms and I wasn’t. It’s not that I was deprived, I wasn’t, it’s that my mum didn’t really see the point in me having a string of them just strung up around my room. A feeling that persists to this day – seriously, it’s like people have never wanted to have fairy lights strung up around their living rooms or something (no, I won’t take them down – they’re not a christmas decoration.).
My insomnia has returned, assuaged only by the lights strung up around me that tell me there is a softer side to things. I lie here, looking at my hand as I hold it up above my face and remember a more innocent time when I managed to convince myself that there were weird creatures in the dark that ate people’s feet if they dared to dangle them off the side of the bed. To this day, I don’t think I’ve ever dared test this theory, so tonight – in an uncharacteristic feat of daring – I let my leg dangle ever so slightly off the edge of the bed. Nothing came to eat me. Thus I conclude, younger me was wrong. (It’s a pity it took twenty years to figure that one out.)
Some small part ofme wonders what I’m attempting to achieve by posting this up – allowing the world to see one of the hidden things – whether I try to achieve some species of enlightenment when all I’ll possibly get is a weird look.

I once made it snow with an offhand comment.

There, now the rest of this post will seem completely rational.
I’m secretly worried about one of my friends, I haven’t seen or heard from her for a while now and I’m scared she’ll have done something dumb. However, I have no idea what to say to her so I’m waiting it out, hoping that the words will become clear to me. My impulse is to hope she makes first contact, a behaviour that I’ve found myself defaulting to a lot these past few weeks. I deeply miss some of my friends and hope that they might be in a position where I might be allowed to – here I find myself grasping a straws, hoping the words will continue to flood out of me even though I know they won’t – I hope they’ll allow me a few selfish moments of their company where I may sit there and ask how they are, share with them the wonders of wild flamingoes and the disappointments of my enmity with cheese and ham.
But being me, I’m too scared to ask them. I know I’m being ridiculous, that my desire is not unhealthy and should be encouraged. However, I also know that these are very busy people and that expecting them to have as much time as I seem to is unreasonable.
So I sit here, after Ian has gone to bed, typing on a computer that was never built for this purpose and wishing that my own were returned to me because I started a story on it and would rather like to resume my sadistic narrative. It’s an unhealthy desire, you see, I love writing and utterly adore creating stories – even if my character creation is incredibly dodgy – but not as much as I enjoy flinging these characters into weird situations and watching it unfold. Rationally, I know that it’s not terribly bad to do this and that a lot of “normal” people use this technique to vent their frustrations but it always felt like a guilty pleasure to me.

Of course, a small subset of you will wonder how the holiday in France went. Well, the answer to that is simple; I both enjoyed and resented it.

I enjoyed it because I love spending time with friends and family and it was so very very beautiful out there. Also, we got to see wild flamingoes and there was no end of pretty sights to be seen. Avignon was an experience all to itself, complete with the (weird) experience of paying 50 euro-cents to pee in a hole.

I disliked the abundance of cheese and ham, though to be honest I’m not sure what I would have done differently – they seemed to be a majority hit. I also disliked the severe lack of public transport and of my own method of travelling around, though I am incredibly grateful that I had a friend to help me get to places. I also somewhat resent the fact that Avignon charges money to go and see the bridge – a bridge that you can see a whole view of from the road that passes by it. I would have liked to go, but no way was I paying 5 euros for something I saw the entirety of from the dual carriageway. Honestly, unless they give paying members of the public a reacharound or something I cannot see how it begins to warrant that high a price for what is (essentially) half a bridge of (I’ll be nice here) visually agreeable masonry.

 

Oh, and my mentalism? Yeah, it’s being sorted… apparently, I might not be bored after all…

Melancholy

Well, another January-March is upon me and I have fallen deeply into this latest melancholy as if I never left it last year.
It’s bizarre to think that I can almost completely predict these things. Though, truthfully, I don’t think I really recovered from last year properly.
I thought, perhaps, with last year’s official medical diagnosis of “you’re just bored, dear, now go get a hobby or three…” that I might finally be cured. Perhaps, I thought to myself, I might not need a chemical crutch again. But weeks turned into months and still the happiness that getting gainful stuff to do promised didn’t turn up. But I persisted.
I tried Wing Chun, thinking that it might help me if I did a martial art. And for a while it did, then the self-hate spiral kicked in and I dropped out just after passing my first belt. I decided that I just wasn’t capable of improvement and that there really was no point paying the fee if I was going to dread going every week. I was so convinced that I could never, ever, be as good as the others in the room that I refused to accept Ian and the instructor’s encouragements. To be honest, it’s hard to regret that decision. Now I don’t dread my weekend, there’s no hope that I will fail to learn something so simple that even the teenagers can do it naturally, instinctively, while I fail utterly at remembering left from right and, in my embarrassment, get more flustered and useless.
On the other hand, my volunteering is going well. I always promised myself I would give back to society and doing so helps fix my self-view. Where I normally see myself as some useless thing, put on this earth to impose, it lifts me out of that somewhat and reminds me that I’m useful for something. It kinda helps that I have a very supportive co-ordinator handling my deployment and it’s a charity very close to my heart. That being said, I’m half tempted to do more charity work… perhaps I might give up another day and help out in a shop or something. It truly makes me happy and while I’m out there I feel like somehow, in some tiny little way, that’s my calling.

In other areas, the excitement for my wedding is almost permanently tampered with the dread of my mother in law’s nagging. See, the thing about her is that she’s really very good at it and the thing about me is that I am incredibly stubborn and when nagged it just makes me want to be more stubborn. She’ll probably never win and Ian will probably go prematurely grey at the way I handle it. Otherwise, I totally can’t wait to make Ian mine permanently. It’s one of the many things that keep me going on a regular basis. It’s altogether much more effective than the chemical crutch the doctor would give me.

Anyway, my point is…. I’m not bored. I have no time to be bored. So there must be some reason I’m so melancholy all the time. It’s getting progressively harder to work out why so I’ve put myself on another ridiculous diet/fitness regime in case it’s a body image thing. So far, it’s not working. I lost 5kg and kept it off and, though I still freak out when I gain weight, it’s not affected my happiness at all. I discussed perhaps taking up running, coming to an agreement that I ought to try power walking first before actually running distances. But the main issue with that is that if I have no time to be bored, when will I get time to do that. I’ll figure something out.

Anyway, enough of this. None of you wished to see all this meaningless drivel about how I’m always melancholy these days. Instead I will leave you with the knowledge that my son is the second most vicious denizen of our house. He even threatens (when given a doctor’s kit (made of plastic) and played with) to cut people up.

Casual Xenophobia.

Overheard today at Iceland:
Customer (possibly referring to me, as Joseph and I have been attempting a spanish day): “It’s getting incredible these days, it’s harder and harder to find somewhere that people speak proper english any more”
Cashier (giving me a weird sideways glance): “I know, go to any part of London and it’s impossible to hear even so much as a single word of english. Especially Harrods and Selfridges.”
*The transaction gets completed and it becomes my turn.*
Me (in perfect english): “It looks like our mission to find green jelly was unsuccessful, so we’re getting this Angel Delight.”
Cashier (looking both surprised and guilty): “Perhaps you could try Harrods, I can’t imagine they wouldn’t have any there.”
Me: “Why would I want to do that? It seems like a long and expensive way to go to get some green jelly.”
The cashier made some non-committal noises then, realising that not only did I understand him perfectly while he was making his remarks about foreign language speakers but that I was on to his feeble cover up.
I left Iceland under the impression that the cashier was subtly telling me to go back to my own country. Well, not that subtly… oh well, he’s a mook…

Updates on the floofkin

So… now that you all know he’s got bronchiolitis, you probably want to know what we’re doing about it…
After a visit to the doctor where I was tempted to straight out ask if I could have him as my GP, but didn’t, he was prescribed suppository paracetamol on the grounds that if we can’t get it in through one end we’ll get it in the other.
We’ve also been advised to get him saline nose drops and a humidifier, which my mother in law says will be expensive… I’ve decided if it’s less than £20 then it’s not too bad. humidifier I ordered
Way I figure it, I might end up needing it later on in life (like if either of my men ever get a respiratory thing again…) and it doubles up as a room freshener if I ever get my hands on a soluble essential oil… only downside to the one I ordered is that it apparently eats two AA batteries a night (which is OK because I have 58 of the bleeders…)
Meanwhile, the Floofkin is sleeping quite happily on the couch on top of the blanket that I placed there to keep him from bleeding on the couch cushions after one particularly horrible coughing fit had him bleeding so much it was coming out of his mouth. His temperature is still high, but there’s not much that I can do about it other than keep him hydrated and give him paracetamol.

Oh and he only wants to listen to the numbers CD.

W33pz

So people around me may have noticed this, but I have like an EPIC issue with crying… as far as my worldview goes, there’s nothing more humiliating than crying in front of people… to this day I’m not entirely certain why but I have come to accept that crying happens and the best thing to do about it is let it happen.

Which doesn’t explain why I’m now experiencing random bouts of weepiness… I’m not actually crying because the reasons for the weepiness are dumb and it’s not really necessary. I mean, how many people do you know burst into tears because the cup of tea is now empty? Or because they’re in the mood for some hula hoops but the hula hoops are over there I mean, seriously?

Also, there’s the promising sign that no matter which doctor I go to I probably won’t get anything for it. I mean, I tried asking for counselling or some species of anti-depressant but the doctor was all “but you have insomnia, which we don’t medicate, and once that passes you’ll be a lot happier”…

I’m now waiting for this magical happiness that will come, especially seeing as my insomnia’s moved on temporarily.

Anyway, hopefully the prospect of a new job with slightly more pay will lift my spirits… it’s only two weeks away and I can’t wait… though that’s mostly because I’ve just found out that despite reassurances that I was important and valued, I’ve been the lowest paid long-term staff member for a while and even if it were calculated on performance I ought to have received some recognition for the fact that I was doing all the admin stuff on the days I was in… *sigh* it’s all in the past now and hopefully the new place will be better…

Internal conflict – too much fail and not enough win

Much as I tend to be a gregarious individual, I find that lately I have very little to talk about and even less patience for socialising than I expected… this is a problem for me.
You see, my internal wiring is skewed towards blaming myself when anything goes wrong in a social situation. Someone doesn’t want to hang out with me? Yup, that’s my fault, clearly I did something to put them off. The fact that they might have other plans or whatever doesn’t come into it… it’s clear in my mind that I have done something and now it’s my thing to fix.
This is why I’ve spent the last few days convinced that I’m the biggest loser to walk the planet, despite the fact that several people travelled to my party, coming thirty miles and more just to see me again.
Thing is, rationally, I know that a large subsection of my friends couldn’t come because of exams and general stuff in their lives… however, on an emotional level, I’m blaming myself and my brain has stuck itself firmly in second-guess mode and now I can’t even enjoy a quiet night in with Ian without several insidious voices telling me that he’s angry with me.
Next year, for my birthday, I would very much like a working mind.

Thankyou for reading.

November, again

I would attempt NaNoWriMo, but all I seem able to write these days is more of the same stuff and even then I can manage about 20,000 words before my brain just stops and the story gets left behind as another one pushes its way to the start… thus this year, yet again, I am passing on NaNo…

Anyone who wishes to do it has my full, whole-hearted, support and if they need encouragement I shall be there to give it to them…

On the other hand, Ali has said it’s National Blog Writing Month (NaBloWriMo) so I might join her and post a meaningful blog post each day this month…

The 50% tax rate.

This is a thing that’ll never affect me, nor will it affect 99% of the population of the UK… however, the celebritards and businesspeople it affects are all up in arms because of the injustice.
All I say to this is good riddance. Frankly, most of the people at that wage point will be the people that got us into the financial mess that the tax rate is trying to fix so they get no sympathy. The rest are either footballers or Tracy Emin, who frankly I have no fondness for… I mean, footballers get paid too much anyway and everyone agrees on this point eventually. And Tracy Emin… well, let’s put it this way, she’s probably the one they invented the saying “big windows” for… after all, there’d need to be big windows in order to spot the idiot that thinks an unmade bed is fine art coming…
Sorry, is that needlessly harsh? My bad.
I’ll admit her art style isn’t my cup of tea, and I know nothing about the artist’s personal life… but every television interview that I’ve seen of her she comes across as a really unpleasant person. If she wishes to go to France to escape our 50% tax rate, go for it… it’s probably a greener grass syndrome causing her to think her life will be better, and even if it isn’t I’m sure that we won’t miss her anyway…
Now, can the newspapers please stop trying to make the people who aren’t affected by this new policy angry? I mean, seriously, there’s so many people beneath the poverty line who need the money more than that one percent of the population and the money’s going to help them out… and rich people, remember that you don’t take it with you when you die…

Bilingualistic Woes

So this week and last week I’ve been making regular trips to the outside world in order to find a DVD for Joseph that features both Spanish and English language options. Two trips in, my quest appears to be completely fruitless, unless I try and wangle it so that family in Spain receive the DVDs and then send them on to me or I order region 1 DVDs (which will require unlocking my DVD player, something I’m reticent but willing to do).

Furthermore, these slightly less than epic quests are hampered by the fact that the children’s DVD section is right next to the Brio display and guess who doesn’t like leaving the shop after his mother discovers her search fruitless…

Also, today I took him to get his feet measured and found him to be a Clarks 6.5G which means absolutely nothing to me. Anyway, the end result is that now I need to justify the spending of £28 on a new pair of shoes for him or call my parents and ask them nicely if they don’t mind getting him some new shoes… which reminds me, I need to call and check that my family hasn’t overloaded them with 1,000,001 pairs of Josephsized shoes (they measured his foot with a stick, cut the stick to the right length and are using that to make sure the shoes are roomy and spacious enough for him.).

In any case, this is a much longer update than I intended and it’s full of baby-related crap that probably no-one in the world cares about… though that said, once upon a time my sister read this and I’m fairly sure there’s someone else out there that cares.

ps. yes, I know there’s no such word as “bilingualistic” I used it cause it sounds better than “zOMG why is everything in England in English?” which was a self answering question and besides, I can understand why it’s all in the native language it just peeves me that my plan was thwarted.

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