Labyrinth

Sweet

2007-02-22T15:32:00.000Z

Feeling really virtuous and productive at the moment. Driving is going really well and I hope to have passed within the next two months. Wish I had more internet access so I could record all that I'm up to, but alas, I don't. Holiday next week with Spanner, then a party that weekend that two of my oldest and dearest friends will be attending. Yep, life is good.

Highlight Me

2007-01-06T13:20:00.000Z

I've been meaning to write a new blog for aaaaages, but I just haven't got round to it. I'm not gonna right an update on my new job, my relationship, my friends, where I'm living, what I think, how I'm doing....Oh no, I have bigger issues to discuss:

For some time now, I've been irrantionally fascinated by the otherworldly, magical qualities of Yellow Highlighter Pens. I may just be commenting upon a widely accepted notion (ie, that yellow highlighters are indeed superduper) but I find them so amazing. Notice how average highlighter pens don't really highlight. Take blue, for example. The blue highlighter is the same colour as your average blue felt tip. The type of pen a toddler might use to do the sky. It doesn't appear to be embodied with any superior luminscence that a Crayola lacks, does it? You don't suspect it might glow in the dark when you turn the light off, do you? No. The same with pink. Just the type of felt you expect a white child to colour in Mum in with. The same can be said of green (could be used for grass), orange (could be used to depict a fruit of the same name) and then those weird reddy shades that Stabilo started producing when the international thrill of highlighters had waned a bit. But yellow. Oh no, one wouldn't dare colour a picture of the sun in with a yellow highlighter. Or use it for a banana? Were a child presented with a packet of highlighters to colour in a new colouring book, one can imagine yellow would be the last to dry up simply because of it's unique limitations. And this is because of the previously mentioned magical-ness of yellow highlighters. A pen not created to realistically colour in yellow things, but a pen whose charisma and charm make it a queen among stationery goods, suitable for one task and one task only: highlighting text. In a world where we love to create items that multi-task (phones that are cameras; mp3 players that can play films; fridge magnets that can open bottles) I truly respect the singularity and impossibly limited quality of the yellow highlighter.

Argument

2006-08-14T11:47:00.000+01:00

Feeling pretty crap about lastnight’s argument. I know I won’t bring this issue up again with A, so I suppose she might as well read it here. I think it’s very constructive and normal (dare I say it) to have a shouty argument every so often. I felt ill-treated by A yesterday, and still maintain that conviction. I tried to vent my anger and frustration, but was met by tears. Tears in an argument = me in the wrong, again. And so the issue remains unresolved and, yet again, I am the one required to apologise.

Adminge

2006-08-07T12:33:00.000+01:00

Despite the fact that the current/newly-recruited Admin Team is made up of two females (one 36 years old, one 23) and one male, certain members of the office still insist on referring to us as 'the girls'. I resented this title when the team comprised of only females, but now that there is one male working with us too?...Pah! It seems that some people are struggling to grasp the concept that males can also perform subservient positions within the office hierachy. Apparently only women should serve other members of the office (do their photocopying, stuff their envelopes, write their letters...) and men should be in charge. J is finding this so impossible to comprehend that she seeks to castrate the male member of the team by referring to him as 'one of the girls.' Apparently he doesn't find this nearly as offensive as I do.

Hair

2006-07-28T12:38:00.000+01:00

I’m feeling a bit queasy today, and I can’t really locate what may be the source of it. I had pasta for dinner yesterday. I had a fag and a glass of wine and I stayed up quite late. Perhaps it’s because of this? I haven’t been drinking much lately (not that a glass of wine can really be considered drinking) and I haven’t smoked in a while and the pasta was (allegedly) flavoured with squid ink (it was nice. Not a particularly strong flavour, but the pasta was black) so perhaps the combination of these has contributed. Also, I’ve been going to bed quite early lately so 1am to bed may have thrown me a little out of kilter. Perhaps perhaps perhaps. I’m sampling a different breakfast cereal today (S&M Muesli with bran) so maybe this has contributed?

Overall, there seems to be a number of small factors that could have potentially contributed to this feeling of mild sickness. I’m not usually of such a sensitive constitution though, that a slight change in dietary patterns and evening habits could make me feel sick. There is a smelly man visiting the office today and I can smell his BO a mile off, so perhaps it’s that. I’m also getting my hair cut this afternoon for the first time in a year and eight months, so I’m probably a bit nervous about that. I have been cutting my own hair, but the uneven length and weight of it, and the generally haphazard style of it has finally gotten too much, so I’m off to the barber’s for a crop. Well, off to Toni & Guy for some pseudo-trendy, low-maintenance, short style.

Here’s a rough approximation of what my hair currently looks like:

Imagine this hairstyle as brown, with some random sticky-out bits and not looking as smooth.

And here’s how I’d like it to look (ish):

I like this style, but my hair is considerably thicker than the model’s so I don’t think it’s physically possible to make it look like that, plus the unspoken law that new hair styles can never look the way the picture does. So yeah, I’m feeling quite flexible about the whole thing.

The BO man is strolling around the room without purpose, presumably with the intention of projecting himself as a wise old king. It’s very annoying and has the additionally unpleasant effect of wafting his vile sent in my direction.

Sun Indoors

2006-07-26T11:38:00.000+01:00

Apparently Boss set a trend wearing her sunglasses indoors the other day, and Shirley Whirley has now decided to follow suit. Allegedly her usual glasses are giving her agro so she’s reverted to her prescription sunglasses instead, but I don’t believe it. I think she’s modelled herself upon a younger, whiter, female Stevie Wonder, using her computer keyboard as a non-musical piano.

Rich Deep Colours

2006-07-19T15:20:00.000+01:00

I was out of the office this morning, helping at a training event my work organised. I showed everyone in, gave them a delegate pack and badge and then just sat…and then sat some more…went for a wee…sat some more… Until the organiser appeared and released me from my boredom, sending me back to the office (a fifteen minute walk through town). I’ve been meaning to go the to art gallery to see the ‘Paranoia’ exhibition for a while now, so I thought now was a good time, especially since it’s en route back to work.

I don’t know if I have a good eye for art. I’m probably being grossly provincial even writing such a sentence, since so much one comments about art is loaded with historical/cultural/social significance, and therefore it would seem that if one has eyes at all, then one has ‘a good eye for art’. Anyway, I really am not well-equipped enough to enter into a debate about art, so I’ll get to the point of this blog: Martin Effert. A few of Martin Effert’s photographs were used in the exhibition and I couldn’t keep my eyes of them. They seem so evocative of something (I don’t know what) and I really enjoyed just looking at them.

They seem so enigmatic and alluring, but I don’t really understand why, nor what it is I like about them beyond the perceived conflict between vividness and dullness, light and colour vs. darkness. They’re just great! Have a look.

Miserable Hot Person

2006-07-18T16:30:00.000+01:00

Just had my second driving lesson. It was just as crap and unbearably hot as the first, and now I’m back in the office and everyone is interfering with my work and nosing about what I should/should not be doing and it’s just TOO BLOODY HOT. I’m not somebody who whinges when the weather is crap, so I don’t feel at all hypocritical wishing this awful weather away again. I can feel sweat all over my body and I’m a little bit OCD when it comes to personal hygiene anyway, so this heat is making me feel dirty and uncomfortable. I feel stroppy and uncooperative and if ONE MORE person speaks to me this afternoon (not moan or complain or request anything of me; just speak to me) I’m going to flip.

At least if I was in a country well-equipped in dealing with this weather I’d have the comfort of top notch air-conditioning, but because we’re always miffed in this country when it heats up, and then get caught off-guard when the temperature soars to 35 degrees, we never seem to have measures in place to regulate the indoor (i.e., office) climate. My office, for example, has two measly fans (which, everyone knows, will just circulate the hot air) and a window, neither of which provide any relief from the heat whatsoever.

I’m know I’m being a whiney mare and that I should just get a grip, but I really feel like spitting out my dummy, stomping out of work and off to the swimming pool to splash about with all the other miserable hot people.

Va Va Voom My Arse

2006-07-17T15:04:00.000+01:00

I had my first driving lesson today and was sorely disappointed to discover I’m not actually the brilliant driver I assumed I would be. Wildly arrogant of me to assume that I would be great, but I’ve always enjoyed playing on the dodgems, I love doing that dramatic thing of turning the wheel really fast and managing to near-miss hitting someone (again, on the dodgems) and from an alarmingly young age I’ve been able to distinguish different types of cars (despite the fact that I’m not the progeny of Det. Mary Beth Lacey and David Starsky). So, you know, I thought I’d be good. But I’m not. I can’t be bothered elucidating on the details of why I’m not good, nor pretend that I did something grand like crash or run over a granny, I was just rather boringly unsuccessful.

Furthermore, and by far the most offensive part of the whole experience is that my driving instructor is the sweatiest person ever. Today is an incredibly hot day, and as soon as I sat in the car, I could feel his residual sweat seep through my shirt from the seat. It was indescribably disgusting and I was conscious of it throughout the whole lesson. Even now I’m sitting forward at my desk at work so as not to allow his dried sweat to transfer from my shirt to my hallowed chair.

The plus side is that this particular driving school do a really cheap deal for the first five lessons so I think I’m going to stick with Sweaty Dave for a while and re-evaluate the situation in four lessons time.

Detox

2006-07-17T09:25:00.000+01:00

We had a party on Friday night. I had a really great night. I’m often a little paranoid that my chemical-induced state at parties isn’t that conducive to conversation, but I felt myself to be quite sociable. A few friends from out of Leeds visited for the night which always makes me really happy, and we spent an excellent couple of hours together debating what came first: the chip or the dip.

Woke up very early on Saturday, still drunk, and decided I was going to go on a detox. No more booze, fags or anything else for a while now. I went on a bit of a Fruit Fest as well, and I intend to eat at least three pieces of fruit every day for the rest of my life. Grand plans indeed. Spent most of the day in a hangover-induced coma dozing on my bed, then attempted to go to L’s party; turned up at about 11pm only to remember (because yes, I had been told) they were off to The Faversham. Little bit disappointed by the big trek from the far-reaches of Hunslet to Hyde Park, but atleast I got to see her new gaff.

Watched Monster again lastnight and cried like a bitch. Again.

It Takes Allsorts

2006-07-14T13:14:00.000+01:00

I love liquorice, I really really enjoy eating Bassett’s Liquorice Allsorts. My favourites are the blue and pink speckled sweets (any die-hards will probably point out that technically, although found in a bag of Liquorice Allsorts, these are not liquorice) the black and white tunnel sweets and the double-decker liquorice sandwich sweets. So, essentially, all of them. Although not commonly found in selections of allsorts, (accept, perhaps, in Yorkshire) I also really enjoy Pontefract Cakes:

I. Just. Love. Liquorice. So…imagine my delight when I spotted that Pontefract is hosting this years Annual Liquorice FESTIVAL, this weekend!

http://www.pontefractliquoricefestival.co.uk/

Easily the most brilliant and ridiculous thing I've heard all day! (Followed closely by Shirley Whirley's tale of the old woman with the orange-hair-that-never-goes-grey who predicted that the man with the beard would have an affair).

Whizz

2006-07-13T12:18:00.000+01:00

WOW! I've actually managed to include a photo on my blog! I've been trying this for ages, and haven't been very successful, but now look...

The bulldog has no particular relevance (unless you happen to be a fan of ballerina dogs (in which case check out this link: http://www.kellyrightsell.com/artwork/prints/all/all/Daisy-the-Ballerina-Dog/045G/index.html)) it just happened to be the first picture I laid my cursor upon in my web folder photo host thingy (so technical, no wonder I've never managed to attach a photo).

So today you've had a photo AND a link from me :)

(Sorry about all the brackets: brackets are the new colon (not))

2006-07-13T12:16:00.000+01:00

Riot Grrrl

2006-07-13T12:14:00.000+01:00

A source of immense amusement for me today (and, in fact my only source of amusement) is that my boss is wearing her sunglasses indoors, unbeknownst to her. Currently, as I look across at her in the office, she is wearing her glasses on her head and her sunglasses on her eyes. Perhaps she has developed an acute sensitivity to light, or perhaps she thinks she is a rock star. Either way, she looks like a benevolent lunatic.

Wednesday Blog

2006-07-12T11:14:00.000+01:00

The phone bill at work usually comes in at around £10 per quarter (accounting for some sort of corporate discount that BT provide) but today’s phone bill is £1, 980.85. Apparently our networked phones have been calling the same number every three seconds for the last couple of months, unbeknownst to anybody. Hahahaha! My boss is getting very agitated calling up BT and our network engineers to try to solve the problem. I find this sort of thing so amusing. When everyone panics about something and gets over-excited about how to solve the problem, and you think 'were they on the Titanic they'd all be dead by now', and then when it is solved, everyone feels all content and gooey inside. Pah.

2006-07-11T15:04:00.000+01:00

Argh! Sections of my blog keep disappearing from view! How annoying! They're visable when I go to 'Edit Posts', but not when I look at the main page of entries.

:( *whimper*

Cornbury

2006-07-11T15:00:00.000+01:00

The festival was great, minus a few mishaps. Dip’s broken knee and resulting operation lowered the tone a bit, but I think we still managed to enjoy ourselves. Obviously not Dip though. Our coach back was delayed by an hour, setting our final arrival time back in Leeds at midnight-ish. My mood on the journey home did take a turn for the worst, but a bottle of Lucozade upon arrival and no queue for the taxi improved it considerably.

The main thing I learnt this weekend is that I. LOVE. CAMPING. Aside from the noise of our neighbours and the cold on the first night (and the bumpy ground), I really did enjoy sleeping outside in fairly basic conditions. I liked the dew on the tent when I woke up and, here’s the weird one, the sound of tent zips being opened. I went on a few holidays as a child with my parents, where we travelled around and camped for a few weeks at a time in different places, and I think the sound of tent zips is really evocative of that. Although at the time I was a bit of a moody wannabe-cool teenager, griping about such basic conditions, I think I did enjoy those experiences very much and I’m glad my weekend away has reminded me of how much I love being outdoors.

I haven’t heard from Dip for a couple of days (batt dead at festival) so I intend to call her tonight to see how she is. I feel really bad for her about having such fragile bones. She was literally just walking along on the grass when *click-crunch* there goes her knee cap. I feel quite sad about how we all take different things for granted. I assume I won’t fall over and injure myself seriously if I do something out of the ordinary, but that isn’t something she can take for granted. Anyway, enough idle rambling.

Back to the reality of Leeds Life.

My job references for my new job are worrying me a little bit. Seems they want to speak to ALL previous employers, including the job I walked out in a flounce mid-shift (I was subsequently asked to leave). I know there’s no such thing as a ‘bad’ reference these days (apparently it’s illegal to give them) but I’m still a little bit worried about it. I’m sure it will be fine.

Slippage

2006-06-27T11:00:00.000+01:00

I used to think of my dress sense as being quite cool. Whilst at uni, I had quite a definite ‘style’ (or so it seemed to me). There would often be a certain type of top I would be drawn to in a shop, or styles of accessories I would buy. I think my favourite colours were black and red and I would often wear nail varnishes and lip-sticks (usually of black and/or red) to complement my outfit. As such. the whole package (clothes, shoes, accessories) seemed quite consistent and, as I mentioned before, rather cool. These days however, my dress sense is very different. Not so much in appearance (I still have clothes that I had at uni that I wear now) but rather in the thought, or lack of, that lies behind what I wear. Long gone are the days of accessories. There is no thought now. I don’t know what I will be wearing tomorrow today. I never plan my wardrobe (unless I’m going out, which is quite rare now anyway), making sure that a certain garment is clean on a certain day, but instead I just put clothes on as I find them. The effect of this interests me and was something that, yet again, I was pondering on the train the other day. When I look at myself in the mirror I see a mismatch. As though someone has two similar puzzles, both depicting a different (but possibly interchangeable) landscape, that have been mixed up. Trying to squeeze a bit of sky from one puzzle into the sky of another landscape: it doesn’t quite fit, but it looks OK. The colour is a bit different, but I don’t think anyone will notice. That’s me. I think it might be called slippage. A tiny shift, a negligible swing; a loss of control perhaps. A general image of something that isn’t quite right.

I don’t think I’m quite hitting my point here so, as usual, comments are very welcome.

Dublin

2006-04-27T14:58:00.000+01:00

Anna and I spent a lovely weekend in Dublin. We visited the Guiness factory, went on a traditional Irish music pub crawl and took a trip to Kilmainham Gaol. Those were the only formal and organised things we did, and for the rest of our stay we walked around Dublin, marvelled at the wonderful goods in Dunnes Stores, ate good food (including a meal in a kebab restaurant – who knew such a thing existed?!) and visited a couple of gay bars. Oh, and drank quite a bit of Guiness. The city has such a fantastic feel to it and we really enjoyed eachothers’ company, so a great time was had by all.

Dilemma

2006-04-20T16:45:00.000+01:00

At work we have a Lotto syndicate. There is only room in the syndicate for a certain amount of people, so not everybody from the office can join. My colleague is leaving shortly and her place in the syndicate is up for grabs. It was offered to me and I turned it down (I’ve never bought a Lotto ticket and I’m not really interested) so now it’s been offered to someone else. However, it’s now occurred to me that the syndicate might win and having turned down the opportunity to be part of it, I’ve waved goodbye to potentially winning lots of money. I don’t watch the Lotto, I’ve never gambled, I’m not really interested in having loads of money, but I’m now concerned that fate might shit on my head by bestowing good luck upon the syndicate and, in turn, very bad luck on me. It isn’t very likely that the syndicate will win, but just imagine if it does?

Work is very quiet today. But that suits me just fine. The New Girl has informed me that the reason the Queen has two birthdays is because historically the Monarchy wanted to insure that HRH always had a birthday celebration when the weather was nice. But for these little facts, the world would certainly be a boring place.

I’m going to the cinema tonight: Alone. [Note to self: good use of the colon].

Face

2006-04-13T14:31:00.000+01:00

I often walk along the street and look at other peoples’ facial expressions and wonder what they’re thinking, and think about how my own face must look as people walk past me. I’m particularly interested in catching a split second expression on someone’s face, taking it out of the context in which it is appropriate (this can only be done when I know the context in which it is present, not in the instance of walking past a stranger in the street), and looking at it as just an expression; as a muscular reduction rather than a means to read somebody’s thoughts and feelings. For example, this morning I witnessed two people at work having a conversation about expenses. Person One asked who the relevant contact was at Department X and Person Two tried to recall the name of said relevant contact. For about a second an expression of such unutterable horror (or what seemed to me) passed over Person Two’s face as he tried to recall this information. His eyes were wide and distantly focussed and his mouth was open in a silent scream. No sooner had I noticed this expression of discomfort, but it had gone again. It passed as quickly as the thought itself, but conveyed something entirely alien to context of what was being said. Why should recalling such simple information cause such apparent discomfort? The answer? It doesn’t. Person Two wasn’t in pain or discomfort at all, but the correlation between face and thought were detached enough at that moment to suggest that facially Person Two was feeling one thing, but mentally was experiencing something quite different. And this is what interests me: when ‘mind’ and ‘body’ seem to contradict each other.

How Can This Be?

2006-04-12T15:15:00.000+01:00

I’M SO APATHETICAL. I think I’m going to start all my blog entries with concrete statements. The contradiction in this instance is that in stating so emphatically that I’m feeling apathetical, I’m obviously undermining the essence of the statement, which means I’m not actually apathetical at all. And that probably I'm quite excited and alert. But now I’m just fannying around because I can. Anyway, yeah, I am feeling apathetical. I thought that I wanted to blog, but then I thought that I didn’t have anything to write, but then I thought that I’d just write that I don’t have anything to write, and again, therein lies the problem: such indecision indicates the opposite to apathy. Apathy embodies a lack of interest in everything; indecision indicates a variety of different options which, although not very appealing in this instance, still indicate choice. Choice indicates decision, decision indicates sensation, and sensation indicates the opposite to apathy: excitement and interest. So actually, were I not a mad-hatter, writing nonsense because there’s time, I would actually have started this blog entry with: I’M SO EXCITED. And of course, the only problem with this truth is that it’s false: I’m not excited at all, I’m actually really bored. But, according to the linguistical laws of deduction, I’m excited. How can this be?

Apathy: 1. Lack of interest or concern, especially regarding matters of general importance or appeal; indifference. 2. Lack of emotion or feeling; impassiveness.

*Addition: So I suppose this brings into question the degree to which blogging self-consciously alters our frame of mind? Did writing the above entry alleviate my apathy? Did it exacerbate it by giving it free reign to complain? Did my writing of that entry contribute anything of value at all to my state of mind? Or am I still a bored person wasting time on the internet? And does it matter anyway?

Erasure

2006-04-11T16:48:00.000+01:00

I’M SO FRUSTRATED. I think I should start some sort of sport that involves hitting balls/punch-bags/people really hard to burn off some of this redundant aggression I’ve developed. I’m going swimming this evening, so hopefully I’ll tire myself out doing that. Then I’m planning on going to yoga tomorrow.

It’s been crappy at work today, as usual. I don’t know why I should expect more from this shit-hole, but just a little respect would be nice (…’I tried to discover a little something to make me sweeter…’). Not to be.

A little piece of Me

2006-04-10T14:51:00.000+01:00

Every time somebody requests something of me, they take a little piece of My Self. I’ve noticed it happening quite a bit lately, and now it’s getting out of control. It started when I noticed one of my earrings was missing and then noticed somebody else wearing it like it was their own. They must have snuck up behind me when they asked me to do that thing for them, taken it out of my ear and put it in their ear. Then I noticed the label from my top was missing; somebody had started using it as a bookmark. When I noticed my left shoe was missing, I also noticed that my right trouser leg was too. There followed my belt, my other earring, a sock, my bracelet and ring (somebody most have liked those as a pair because they took them at the same time), my other trouser leg, my other shoe and so on. Even when I went home each night, stripped of my clothes, and returned the following day all intact, everything still gradually disappeared and reappeared on someone else over the course of the day. I must admit, this did start to make me feel a little strange. But then something even more upsetting began to happen. Little bits of My Actual Self also started going astray: when all my clothes and jewellery had gone, hungry for a little bit more of Katy, people started taking my body. One morning I felt a warm, sliding touch trailing down my neck, trickling round my shoulder and pooling in my prominent clavicle. I looked down and noticed that it was blood. Hand to head revealed that somebody had taken my ear, of all things, my ear. I wrapped up the wound as best I could but the blood made working a little difficult. Shortly thereafter, I noticed my arm had gone. I could see tendon twitching where once a healthy limb had lived; a torn bone and muscle twosome drying in each other’s embrace while the blood kept pouring away. By this time my desk was covered in blood, my head was starting to hurt and my work certainly wasn’t getting done. I tried to hobble about and do my duties, without upsetting the sensibilities of my colleagues and engendering their harsh and furtive glances by selfishly slopping my juice everywhere, but by this stage, it had become rather difficult. If somebody had let me sleep, let me recover My Self just enough to keep going, maybe I would have been OK. But no.

Apparently it was essential that he took my brain. According to him, I didn’t need it anyway. And so he reached in, under that freshly fractured skull of mine, peeled back the membrane that keeps it safe, drained off the fluid that keeps it thinking, and took it. Just before I finally lost consciousness, just before the jerking raw lengths that kept my brain attached to the rest of me were snipped clean away with my own scissors, I remember thinking: ‘Why on earth do I bother?’

Bus Pass

2006-04-07T15:55:00.000+01:00

On Wednesday this week, upon removing my bus pass from my pocket, I discovered that it had expired two days previous (unbeknownst to me)…and I had been using it, unpunished by the Bus People! How pleased I was when I made this discovery! However, this revelation rendered me incapable of using the aforementioned bus pass anymore. Suddenly I was racked with guilt at the prospect of continuing to use the bus pass and knew that although I had managed to use it when I didn’t know it was expired, to attempt to use it when I did know it was expired, was entirely beyond me. I suspected my face would reflect my guilt, my useless pass would be torn from my hand, I would be thrown from the bus and asked never to step foot on a number 13 again.

I’m at work and I’m pretty damn bored. I’ve got some work I should be getting on with, but I really can’t be arsed. I’m having far much more fun playing on MySpace and typing potential blog entries in Word. What a loser. Thankfully it’s Friday, so as soon as I leave this joint, the fun begins :)

Weekend

2006-04-03T15:16:00.000+01:00

Had a really good weekend. Anna’s friends arrived on Friday evening. We met them at the station, then headed towards Anna’s (via Morrison’s to pick up some last minute curry essentials) and arrived at about 6:30-7ish. Then we sat in the kitchen, talked and drank tea from a pot, before starting to prepare dinner at about 8ish, when we also cracked out the booze. Anna prepared us all a yummy curry, with naan, popadoms and an endless variety of pickles/dips. We then sat and digested at the table, drank a bit more, before retiring to the living room to watch The Mighty Boosh, Series 2.

On Saturday, we all met in town from a greasy fry up, had a wander around some vintage shops for a while, then headed back to the house. Most of us had a nap in preparation for the party that night. The party was really good., very chilled, nice people, good fun.

On Sunday morning, Anna prepared us another lovely meal (a veggie fry-up) and then we all headed into town again to drop the visitors off to catch their coach home. When Anna and I arrived back, we did a few hours thorough cleaning after the party, watched two films, had a smoke, had some cuddles, went to bed.

Can I be Somebody to Everybody?

2006-04-03T11:57:00.000+01:00

I was mentally wrestling with the idea yesterday that I could be a friend to all. I don’t really know what this would entail and whether I’m really that friendly, but I was just thinking how nice it would be if I were still friends with all the people I’ve ever known. And I would make time for each and every one of them, and they would love me and I would love them.

A Need To Write

2006-03-30T14:31:00.000+01:00

I was sat on the train on Sunday, feeling a little unhappy and alone. As the train came out of the tunnel, I saw the colour of the evening sky, a bird, some smoke from a chimney and a grey-black building. Somehow this combination of images (fleeting as the train sped past) gave momentary relief from my mood and engendered immense optimism. The world was full of hope and possibility. For a small moment, I felt so happy that I thought I might cry. I felt those hot prickles at the back of my legs, move up over my bottom, encircle the base of my spine and belly, and rest within me: a flush of joy.

In themselves, there was nothing about those images that particularly appealed to me. Out of those, I only find the sky an aesthetic pleasure. I don’t particularly like birds, the smoke was suggestive of the gradual but constant and pernicious pollution of the world; the once pristine, grey-black building wearing the uniform of that pollution. But somehow, inexplicably, to me they suggested happiness.

If only these moments would last a little longer. I think that particular incident lasted somewhere in the region of a second. Only a second for me to leave my mind, rise and hover above myself, look at me, then the world and realise, that actually, everything will be alright.

Thursday Update

2006-03-30T11:53:00.000+01:00

Ernest: Ernest’s eye fell out sometime in the last two weeks. If it did fall out that is. We can’t decide if the eye sealed up, or just dropped out entirely. Either way, Ernest only has one eye to see with now. Her general behaviour is quite unusual, but we blame this on her difficult formative weeks in Pet City; and it can only be exacerbated by her now missing left eye. I will try to persevere with her, although she is prone to biting, doesn’t like being held and sweeps all the sawdust out of her cage. We are toying with the idea of releasing her into the garden, but given she is white in colour and only has one eye, we don't consider her chances of survival to be high.

Prison: Well, I did the prison weekend and it was great. Really tiring and intense, but I got in with some great people on the first day and they made it much more enjoyable. The weekend was made up of various different oral and written tests over the two days, but we had quite a bit of time between each one to nurse the severe hangovers [Note to self: when you don’t get onto the prison scheme, blame it on the hangover] we’d mysteriously developed. I hear in a month if I’ve got it, so fingers crossed.

Books: I finished Immortality and it was amazing. Sometimes I read a book and think that if I had the skill and prowess to write a novel, I would write one just like that. And that’s what I think about Kundera. So much of what he writes seems to be an articulation of the fleeting and intangible thoughts that sometimes cross my mind, but which I’m not skilled enough to realise or articulate. I’m now reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being, also by Kundera, and it seems to be a more compact and focused version of Immortality, although equally as brilliant and challenging.

Life: My room is incredibly untidy. My bowels are rebelling against an OD of chillie. I need to do loads of washing. My job is a bore. I want some new shoes. I need to start getting my hair cut by professionals as I keep catching people eyeing me when errant strands I’ve cut myself stick up peacock-style. I’m continuing to cultivate restfulness in all areas of my life, especially free time.

Weekend: Two of Anna’s friends are visiting for the weekend and I’m looking forward to booze, bifta and good times :)

Ta ta for now.

Ernest

2006-03-16T16:40:00.000Z

I’ve recently brought a hamster home with me; which, of course, means I purchased a hamster from a pet shop, but I don’t really like admitting to that. Anyway, Ernest won’t let anyone hold her, she scratches herself ferociously (and housemates have recorded small, anonymous bites on their bodies) and now she has a wounded eye. The eye is swollen, leaking sticky pink liquid and the eye-lid doesn’t close. I’m beginning to think that sweet little Ernest might be a bit of a curse.

Alarma Futurama: A Rational Fear of Modernity?

2006-03-07T17:03:00.000Z

Yesterday morning, my mind obviously receptive to entertaining thoughts of a subtle nature, I was plunged into a lengthy and private reflection upon Modernity, brought about by the speeding schwump of a passing train. I don’t necessarily see the train as representing Modernity as such (perhaps 100 or so years ago, but not in 2006. Perhaps the mobile phone, or the internet are more relevant today? Although, the internet is rather more like a concept than a tangible thing. Anyway, I digress), but it seems (to me) to represent (well, this morning anyway) the out of control, frighteningly fast advancement of technological growth. I always find trains quite intimidating, not least because I can never quite comprehend the scale of them: they always seem too small on the outside to fit that many people in, but always too big on the inside to look so small from the outside. Rather like planes in the sky. But this morning it wasn’t so much the train that troubled me, rather the thought that it engendered: I like to be able to understand things and I find it a little alarming when I can’t. I’m not talking about not understanding a maths problem (Lord knows, I never understood those) or reading about something thoroughly and still not understanding it (like Feminism), I’m talking about those totally intangible technological/engineering advancements that are, and always will be, absolutely beyond my sphere of understanding. I will never understand how light can have a speed; I will never understand how cells can be cloned; I will never understand how a surgeon can appear to so sloppily poke about in someone’s gut, tie a few knots in some slimey looking cartilage (or whatever the ropey lengths one might find in someone’s stomach are) and apparently save a person’s life. And these are the thoughts that currently pre-occupy me.

I think this recent curiosity with such reflections has been encouraged by Milan Kundera. I have already quoted from Immortality once but, without wishing to be a bore, I will quote from it again:

Goethe lived during that brief span of history when the level of technology already gave life a certain measure of comfort but when an educated person could still understand all the devices he used. Goethe knew how and with what materials his house had been constructed, he knew why his oil lamp gave off light, he knew the principle of the telescope…and while he himself could not perform surgery, he was present at several operations and when he was sick he could converse with the doctor in the vocabulary of an expert. The world of technical objects was completely open and intelligible to him…

Beethoven’s work begins where Goethe’s centre ends. It is located in the moment when the world starts gradually losing its transparency, darkens, becomes more and more incomprehensible, rushes into the unknown, while man, betrayed by the world, escapes into his self, into his nostalgia, his dreams, his revolt, and lets himself be deafened by the voices inside him so that he no longer hears the voices outside.

I suppose I’m struggling with the idea that if one human or group of humans have created something, why can’t every other educated human understand it? How can man be 'betrayed by the world' (as Kundera argues) when surely it is man who has cultivated the very science that is responsible for the world losing it transparency? By 'man' presumably Kundera means the infamous Common Man? For the word 'man' denotes all people, not just intellectual males. But surely the Common Man is not the man responsible for the growth in understanding and technological/scientific advancement that is making the world incomprehensible? It is the Educated man and the Man of Science that Kundera writes of, and thus how is it that this man cannot understand what he has created?

[Here K's ideas become so garbled, rubbishy and confused that she thwumps the keyboard in frustration, clicks 'Publish Post' and abandons the entry for the moment. Perhaps she will revisit it later in an attempt to clarify her thoughts, or perhaps she will consign it to a footnote in history.]

The Things From Home We Bring To Work

2006-03-03T14:28:00.000Z

One day I would like to do a study entitled: ‘The Things From Home We Bring To Work.’ At this particular moment, I have the following items with me, at work, that I have brought from home:

A framed photo of Anna;
A mug from York Minster;
Some stickers Laura bought me for Xmas (theme: ‘I Love the Office’);
1/3 of a loaf of bread;
A small chunk of cucumber;
A tub of cream cheese (nearly empty);
A tub of Olive oil spread;
A box of ‘Simply Oats’;
A small pot of Marmite
Some Camomile & Spiced Apple teabags.

There is a very specific and clear-cut distinction between these items, and they can be categorised under two headings: ‘To Be Consumed’, ‘Not To Be Consumed.’

I take great solace in having these things with me at work, beyond the practical usage they perform for me. In an office where I’m feeling increasingly dissatisfied with and alienated from those with whom I work, it is an immense relief to take a sip of Camomile and Spiced Apple tea from my tacky York Minster mug, whilst admiring the picture of my lovely lover. Rather than sipping Tetley from some bland corporate mug, gawping at the words on the screen of my computer, I’ve brought a little part of myself to work, and it feels good.

I suppose with me, it's to do with attention. I resent bestowing my attention on things that do not interest me, but relish giving attention to things that do. These things from home are items I have acquired because I wanted/want to: I bought the mug from a car boot sale because I like it; Anna bought me the frame and I put a picture of her in it that I particularly like, and so forth. I do not like the necessary stationary that litters my desk. I don't like the phone on my desk because it rings and I don't like answering it. I don't like the files on my desk because apparently it makes me all-knowing on boring subjects such as the meeting room and equipment hire. The computer?...A tricky and ambiguous item.

The items I have with me are with me by choice, and since I have chosen them, I must like them, no? Furthermore, they remind me of happier times/places, when I am not at work suffering from acute intellectual atrophy. This is WHY I have them with me, but it doesn't answer HOW I have them with me. And since I didn't consciously decide that I wanted them with me, although I do, what part of my sub-conscious brought them here?

[I’m not really sure where I’m going with this, and I don’t have time to explore it any further at work, but hopefully I’ll come back to it]

Exciting

2006-03-01T13:38:00.000Z

Because that’s how things are, and this goes for everyone: we will never find out why we irritate people, what bothers people about us, what they like about us, what they find ridiculous; for us our own image is our greatest mystery.

Milan Kundera, Immortality.

I think this, all the time; in a vague, incoherent and hidden way, I wonder what people like about me, what they don't and why. And like the characters in this book, I will be forever unknowing, no matter how desperate I might be to find out. And I would like to know: if I knew why a certain person didn't like me, I could understand how to make them like me. But then, why would I want everyone to like me anyway?

I heard from the Prison Graduate Scheme and I have managed to make it to the next stage: a weekend away in Rugby, at the prison training centre, to be assessed non-stop for 48 hours, on my eligibility to join the Prison Service. I wasn't really looking forward to this, but now I think it might be quite exciting.

Brian's New Hat

2006-02-22T11:43:00.000Z

I’ve decided that I’m too concerned with the Big Things in life. I worry about the environment and how in three degrees time we lose Bangladesh, Florida, The Maldives and various other low-lying lands due to Global Warming; I worry about crime and prisons; I worry about the BNP; I worry about Bush. I don’t, however, worry about how my shoes need polishing; I don’t worry about my scruffy hair or my desperate need for new trousers. And yet, it’s probably these things that other people worry about. The reason I’ve been set to thinking like this is as a result of one tiny, insignificant item: Brian’s New Hat. Shirley and her husband Brian are going to Egypt for their twenty-something (maybe thirty-something, forty-something) wedding anniversary. Shirley is obsessed, literally obsessed, with this holiday and has been telling us at great length this morning about Brian’s New Hat, bought specifically for this holiday. It cost £19.99 from a camping shop somewhere near Halifax; it can be purchased in three shades: olive green, beige and white; it’s a bit like a cowboy hat, but isn’t as high and doesn’t have such a wide brim; it has little holes around the brim to ventilate Brian’s hot head; and, the real selling point, I think: embedded in the brim it has hundreds of little ‘crystals’ that, when dipped in water, provide long-term cooling properties for the lucky wearer. Imagine! But Shirley is so genuinely excited by this hat. They shopped around for a bit, Brian tried different colours, shapes and sizes and eventually, mutually, they settled upon the crystal hat.

Why can’t I get excited by such things? Why can’t I be so methodical and consistent? Do people who occupy their minds with such small things forget about the Big Things? Or do they have room in their minds for big AND small things? Or are the small things a way of blocking out the big things? ‘I couldn’t possibly think about Global warming, I’ve got Brian’s bloody hat to think about!’ Do big and small things even exist, or is everything just… there?

Good Day

2006-02-16T09:34:00.000Z

I feel so good this morning! The weather is stunning; really crisp and bright and the sky is a gorgous blue. I think yesterday's yoga has helped put me in a good mood as well. My body feels very healthy and content, plus I was exhausted lastnight, went to bed at ten and slept like a log. So yeah, what a good day!

Not Porn

2006-02-15T16:26:00.000Z

Getting a bit fed up with work this afternoon. People keep piling shit (literally) onto my desk, then kicking off when they find it hasn't been dealt with. Or playing The 'I thought you were sorting that out' Card, which irritates me no end.

Anna and I have decided that we will continue to watch The L-Word even though, thus far, it's proved a little disappointing. It's not big on plot, chracterisation, lesbian sex (but there is quite a bit of hetero-sex) or anything, so I'm wondering what the purpose of the programme really is. Anna thinks it might be a conspiracy to get lesbians to watch men and women having sex, but I'm not entirely convinced by this line of argument. Where can we find some decent lesbo films? Not porn (exclusively) but something just about women. This is a new challenge Anna and I have set ourselves and one I intend to take up in earnest.

PLEASE EMAIL ME BERNIE!

2006-02-15T12:15:00.000Z

Prison vs. Probation

2006-02-14T16:51:00.000Z

Oh, I forgot that I haven’t updated my blog on what went on in the prison. Well, it was quite amazing. It’s so strange walking around in a place where every door needs a key, where people live in about six square metres of space, where everybody is dressed the same, where nobody looks happy. It was entirely what I expected really. I’ve been in an old prison before, one that’s no longer in use, and I remember thinking my response is similar to what it is when I enter a church. As an atheist, entering a church is still quite striking for me. The kudos of such buildings and the architecture and size is always beautiful. But I know it has nothing whatsoever to do with me. I can’t understand the symbolism or the religious significance of places of worship, like I can’t understand the impact that a prison must have on somebody who is or has been locked up. Or rather, not that I can’t understand, but that I can’t participate. I suppose, like in many areas of life, I find myself spectating when I enter these buildings. Gosh, that sounds soooo pretentious. Next I’ll be coming up with clichés like: ‘life isn’t a spectator sport’ and other slogans befitting of an up-market Pepsi advert. But I think that’s what I’m trying to say, that I found myself sitting on the fence when I visited the prison, that I couldn’t appreciate the significance of such a medieval space/concept, and that ultimately, I can’t see myself working in one for a living.

The probation hostel, however, was quite another matter. I definitely think that probation is a route that better fits my character. If I were to get to the next stage of the Prison Graduate Scheme I would still most definitely go for it, however, I don’t know if such a job would have staying power for me. The very idea of probation, on the other hand, really appeals to me: I think it’s so important to rehabilitate ex-offenders to prevent them re-offending. Quite a simple concept really, but one that seems to have so many people up in arms. When I talk to people about prison and offenders, often I hear the response that people should be locked up 24/7in a tiny cell, that there should be enforced hard-labour, that no prisoner should enjoy such privileges as TV or newspapers, and, at worst, that capital punishment should still be in action. Not that they should be re-socialised and assimilated into society, but that they should be killed or, at the very least, locked-up forever. It’s impossible for me to describe how strongly I feel against such a course of action, and this is why I have changed my mind about wanting so strongly to work in a prison: I don’t want to be part of the machinery responsible for locking people up, I want to be part of the system that helps to rehabilitate offenders to let them out again.

Lovely Jubbly

2006-02-14T16:03:00.000Z

I have the worst headache EVER. At best, I think my two eyes might fall out, at worst, I think I might lose my whole head. It’s totally throbbing. When I open or close my eyes it really hurts, when I move too much, it really hurts and when I just sit still thinking about how painful it is, it just REALLY HURTS. However, I do think it might be my own fault. After a little alcohol and mild drug indulgence this weekend, I suspect I’m experiencing what hardened drug-users call: ‘coming down.’ So I suppose it’s my own fault and I should just deal with it.

Anna and I have some lovely things planned for our first Valentine’s Day together. How naff does that sound! I’m starting to remind myself of the awful people in my office who’ve talked about VD (geddit?) quite a bit today: how they’re not buying hubby a card because he’s a git; how boyfriend was kind enough to remember VD blahblahblah…. But no, Anna and I are going to do some nice things together; mainly going to LUSH and buying some lovely smelly products for the bath we’re planning to have, and some nice dinner to go with the nice wine Anna has already bought. Lovely jubbly.

Prisoner

2006-02-09T11:31:00.000Z

I'm off to prison in half an hour. I'm at work until 12, then I've arranged to go on a tour of Leeds Prison. I'm quite nervous actually. Probably because I'm wondering if I'm actualy going to like being in a prison. There's no reason why I would (I can't imagine they're lovely places, really) but if I want to work in a prison, I guess I'd better like it. I know I'm going to dislike doors/gates being locked behind me, but that's obviously central to the prison experience isn't it? I don't suppose one could walk around leaving gates and doors swinging? I don't really know what the tour will consist of. I don't know if it's a tour of the grounds, or a tour of the whole site. I don't know if I'll encounter prisoners or whether my tour guide will avoid those. I suppose the reason I'm feeling a little anxious is because I really DON'T KNOW ANYTHING.

After my prison visit, I've arranged to visit a young offender's hostel for a few hours. A sort of halfway house between prison and freedom. I'm applying for a job there, and Anna suggested it might be an idea if, to see what it's like, I shadow somebody whose currently doing the job. And a good idea too. So for quite a few hours today I'm going to be locked up. Quite a strange thought really.

HumanNature

2006-02-08T14:18:00.000Z

For the last ten minutes I’ve been vaguely aware of an incessant droning going on behind me. Moments ago I turned around to find that SHIRLEY was responsible for the sound, moaning away to the office manager. Hahahaha! I had thought a massive, errant bumble bee (unlikely at this time of year) was buzzing in my ear, but actually it was a human being all along!

Tuesday

2006-02-07T15:24:00.000Z

Bit bored at work today, as usual, but I think I’m learning how to deal with it. Boredom often breeds panic, resentment and anger in me, but I’m trying instead to cultivate calm and serenity when a boring situation is imminent. That way, I don’t spend three thirds of my working day in a foul mood. And then take it out on Bubs when I get home.

A woman at work has been harassing me all day about some bloody train tickets. Rather than making it clear in the first instance what she wanted me to do, she’s drip-fed me information over the course of the day, resulting in confusion and mistakes. How annoying! A job that could have taken ten minutes if properly explained to me, has probably demanded two hours of my time! I really don’t like time-wasters.

Looking forward to another lovely evening with Anna. I’m going to hers straight after work (probably arrive there at 5:30pm), then she will join me at 7pm. In the interim I will:

Play the piano;
Have a cup of coffee/tea;
Start reading my new book (Wolves of Willoughby Chase)
Watch some news;
Think about Anna.

I’m starting a new book this evening because at lunch today I finished The Faithful Narrative of a Pastor’s Disappearance, one of the best books I’ve read in ages (although nothing beats We Need To Talk About Kevin). It was funny, but also really sad. That’s a bit of a cliché when talking about books these days; everyone seems to think that a sadfunny book is destined for great things, but it really was brilliant. I felt strangely drained when I’d finished it, probably contributing to my feelings of lethargy this afternoon.

Good Day

2006-02-03T15:02:00.000Z

Today’s a good day. I’ve arranged to go on a visit to a young offender’s hostel and a prison. Both next Thursday! Tis very exciting! At the young offender’s hostel I’ll be shadowing a member of staff for a while and at the prison I’ll be given a two hour guided tour. Good stuff! I’m glad because it’s definitely a positive step towards getting experience of working in a prison and/or with offenders.

Work is pretty good today. It’s quite dull, as usual, but I’m buoyed up by my visits next week, so I’m not really bovered. So glad it’s Friday. I’m looking forward to a nice chilled evening, and then being joined by Anna, when she’s back from her evening out.

Sugar

2006-02-03T12:11:00.000Z

Yesterday's sugar:

Whatever is on my cereal (none added);
that which comes in the yoghurt I had at lunch;
erm, nothing else, I don't think.

Today's sugar so far:

Cereal again;
I'm about to have a coffee and two biscuits.
2 more choccie biccies.

Fags this week:

NONE.

Caffeine:

Minimal

Miserable

2006-02-01T11:59:00.000Z

This morning I am in hate with everything. There’s no point discussing here why because I seem to have trouble conveying how truly disheartened I am with life to anybody, so I don’t think I’m going to bother anymore. I’m beginning to realise that perhaps I am an unhappy person, and very little apart from a few simple pleasures (such as playing the piano) seems to make me happy. By happy, I mean consistently happy. I have happy moments of course, but on the whole, I am miserable. Boringly miserable.

2006-02-01T08:57:00.000Z

Sugar so far...

Crunchy Nut Cornflakes (next week I'm gonna buy Rice Crispies because I don't think it's such a good idea to start the day with such a sweet cereal);
1 tsp sugar with a decaf coffee;
2 biscuits (one cookie, one Fox's Crunch).

2006-01-31T14:23:00.000Z

I’m having a horrible day at work, so to combat this, I’m going to come up with a few things to do this evening to restore my personal well-being:

Have a big cuddle with Anna;
Have a bath;
Read proof with Anna;
Read ‘The Faithful Narrative of a Pastor’s Disappearance’ on my own;
Moisturise my body all over;
Stay up no later than 11pm (when Shameless has finished)
Don’t eat dinner too late;
Have an herbal tea;
Play the piano.

All in no particular order. My period has arrived with a big blob, and I’ve been forced to take Paracetemol (which doesn't work for me) because I don’t have any Ibu Profen, and I’m feeling pretty rough. Plus my boss has made me cry (out of frustration and anger, in the toilets, on my own) with her meanness and power-obsession. I think I’m also a little sad because it has become apparent I need to give up smoking and sugar. Smoking is an obvious one, but I had no idea sugar was having such an adverse affect on my body until I had my aura ‘read’ yesterday. Apparently my body is well and happy and healthy, except my throat which doesn’t like smoking, my left eye which doesn’t like looking at computers, and my pancreas which doesn’t like sugar. The former two came as no surprise (smoking is BAD; I wear glasses that need updating) but sugar?! Please no! So anyway, in an attempt to cut down, I’m going to record all the sugar I consume (well, all that I know about).

Today:
One bowl of crunchy nut cornflakes (quite a sugary cereal);
Two Orange Chocolate Digestives;
Two teaspoons of sugar (in one cup of tea, and one cup of coffee, not straight from the bowl).

Caffeine (just for the fun of it, and since I’m in the mood for recording things):
Zilch :)

2006-01-31T10:14:00.000Z

I’m feeling a bit desperate at work today. Dya know when a day feels like it could last til the end of time and then some? It’s only 10am. I’m very bored (more so than usual) I have nothing to do (apart from some crappy tasks I really don’t want to do) and the bloody phone or office doorbell keeps interrupting my blog writing. Also I’ve just started my period and that always makes me feel a little bit unhinged. As though I might just cry at anything. Not to say I’m actually feeling emotional, upset, or unhappy, just that a tiny irrelevant thing could send me into floods of tears. Like if the phone rings once more…

Work & Play

2006-01-24T11:49:00.000Z

I’m in an alright mood today, even though I’m at work. The office is just ticking over, and I have sufficient occupation. Think I might go swimming this evening. Anna won’t be home til about 7ish, so I could go as soon as I get to hers, and be back a little after she is. Whether this is a realistic aim or not, I don’t know. I’ll probably get back to hers straight after work and not want to brave the cold again, and end up playing the piano for the rest of the evening. Well, trying to play the piano. I’m learning, thanks to the great help of Anna. At the moment, and with very slow progress, I’m muddling my way through Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’: fantastically ambitious of course, but very enjoyable.

Anyway, I’m keen to go swimming because I’m conscious I’m starting to smoke gradually more and more, without getting any exercise to counteract it. I don’t consider myself a smoker (I don’t feel addicted, I don’t think about smoking when I’m not doing it, I don’t smell of smoke and I only smoke ½-1 rollie each evening) but I am conscious I’m rather in the habit of doing it. As such, I think I want to stop now. It’s quite fun to do it when having a drink, or after a nice meal, but ultimately (obviously!) it is very bad. Plus, I don’t want to die of lung cancer. So yeah, I want to go for a good swim to get the air in my lungs once more.

I’ve got Dairylea on toast for lunch. I consider Dairylea to be one of Life’s essential luxuries. I really love it! So yes, Dairylea on toast. Sometimes I have Dairylea and cucumber sandwiches (truly refined) but I haven’t been organised enough of late to get some cucumber in.

Anyway, better go. I’m required to type up the twenty page hard-copy of work’s Health & Safety Manual, and save it electronically on the hardrive, where nobody will ever look at it again.

I can't get no...

2006-01-23T12:48:00.000Z

Work is just totally crap, as usual. I wish I wasn't always this dissatisfied :(

Somebody's Got To Do It

2006-01-20T13:02:00.000Z

I went to the Prison Testing Day yesterday and it was the hardest test I’ve ever done. Of course, that may sound ridiculous, given that I’ve done A-levels and what-not, but for those I was prepared and knew what to expect; for this I knew nothing. Well, I knew the day would comprise of two tests, one to write an action plan and one to write a letter, but beyond that I knew nothing. I had thought about it, and imagined how it might be, but I was well off the mark. Firstly, I was put off by the sight of a calculator on my desk. ‘Why would I possibly need a calculator to do an action plan? thought I, but it became apparent that as well as doing an action plan, we had to ‘do’ the budget for a fictitous company as well. And work out how to reduce their outgoings by 7%. Well, it took me five minutes to remember how to make a calculator work out percentages. Secondly, in the two hours we had to write this action plan, we also had to read and digest 30 pages of information, and assimilate that into our solutions. I was out of my depth for sure, but I managed to complete it, and the second letter writing test, within time. I can also say that I did my best. I think I have a moderate chance of getting onto the next stage, but only because other people I spoke to about the tests found them similarly hard as I did. However, the odds of getting on to the actual scheme are very slim. Out of the 1,400 who applied, about 300 were invited to the testing days (including myself), I imagine maybe 100 will be invited to the next stage (a daunting ‘assessment weekend’), but only 20 people will make the cut. That’s it. Nationwide, only 20 people will be recruited. If there were more than that, then I would think I stood a chance, but against those sort of odds, I don’t think I stand a chance at all. Oh well, I still hope to get invited to the next stage, but now that I’ve decided I won’t possibly get beyond that, it almost seems pointless bothering. Of course, I still will though because, as Mum says: ‘somebody’s got to do it.’

Go Ask Alice

2006-01-18T16:27:00.000Z

I’ve been out of the office this morning. I went to a meeting in Sheffield with somebody I work with. I wasn’t really looking forward to it because I was fancying a chilled day before my prison testing tomorrow, but it was pretty good. Plus, I had to takes minutes, which I was dreading, but which turned out to be useful because it made me concentrate, rather than drifting off into space and doing big, yawny stretches (a forte of mine). So now I’m back in the office, but only for a short while before my love and I take a trip to the theatre tonight to see Alice in Wonderland. Here is a review: “In a packed theatre, Alice grew big and small and travelled miles on one stage. The scenery was fantastic and objects rising out of the floor made it even more magical. The costume designers really made the play spectacular. I really loved the special effects of the garden and the seemingly endless rows of trees.” Worryingly, I’ve just realised that this review, like all the other reviews I can find, was written by a child. Not to say children can’t write reviews, or go to the theatre, but it does seem to suggest the rest of the audience, apart from Anna and myself, will be minors. Oh well, as long as Anna can resist starting a popcorn fight, I think we’ll be OK.

Don't Worry

2006-01-17T09:47:00.000Z

I’m about to embark upon 4 ½ hours of training at work, and I can’t help wonder why this is necessary. Why must the training be conveyed in such long trysts? Wouldn’t it be nicer to have a few small spells of training, rather than one big, totally soporific day of training? I suppose it does mean I can abandon the other tasks of the day I would be doing otherwise (probably equally as boring), but I really do resent being forced to listen to someone for this length of time. Especially when I know the whole event is going to be a thunderous bore.

Yawn.

I have my prison testing day on Thursday. I’m feeling calmer about it these days, helped massively by Anna and I taking a trip to where it will be held, so I know where I’ll be going, and how long it will take to get there. I think that’s a large part of the anxiety with such things: if you’re going somewhere for the first time, you start to worry about traffic and what not, and being late etc. So yeah, that’s good. I don’t know when I’ll be informed if I’ve passed the testing day, but hopefully not too long after the event. Otherwise I’ll start to worry about that too! Isn’t it funny how we worry? I think people thrive upon a bit of worry, even though they think they hate it. Imagine if we had nothing to worry about? I think we’d all become as boring as work training days.

Bog-off woman!

2006-01-06T09:17:00.000Z

I’ve only been at work half an hour and I’m already fed-up. Co-worker has been nit-picking at me, out of some misplaced jealousy (she resents that I can do the same job as her despite being considerably younger and only having been in the job for 2 months. But come on, it is Admin!) and has irritated me. The signing-in sheet is my responsibility to supervise, but several members of staff were here before me today and didn’t know where they could find today’s sheet. So they were forced to use the reverse side of yesterday’s signing-in sheet. Shock horror! Co-worker couldn’t let this pass without making a dig. She behaved similarly yesterday when there was a clash in the diary, implying I was in the wrong, as opposed to her, when such an accusation was totally childish, unfounded and improvable.

New Year's Revolution: to reduce my carbon dioxide emissions

2006-01-06T09:01:00.000Z

Remember This Please Madam

2006-01-05T10:48:00.000Z

Work is just ticking over this morning. I suppose that's a good thing: better than being bored. Although I am still a bit bored, sometimes I just embrace the boredom, rather than worrying about it. Worrying that I'm wasting my time, life, blahblahblah. The prison thing is going well, which is absolutley fab. Well, I've managed to get to the next stage, which is a testing day. If I pass this, I think I get invited to an interview. Everytime I think about the prospect of working in a prison, I feel so happy. Incredibly happy that I've found something that really interests me. But I also feel incredibly nervous, and sometimes want to push all thoughts of it from my head, for fear of jinxing myself, or getting too excited, only to face potential disappointment. But I must remember, if this doesn't work out, then there are other ways of getting into the Prison Service. Remember this please madam.

2006-01-04T14:35:00.000Z

I saw the thought as I see most thoughts: being packed into a small space; in this instance that between the top of the books and the bottom of the shelf above.

2006-01-04T14:23:00.000Z

Goodness, I'm so bored :( I'm at work, and as per, NOTHING IS HAPPENING. Plus, I think I've developed a permanent work-aversion headache. Although, it's not all bad. For Xmas I received a set of 'I love [imagine the 'love' is a little red heart please] the office' Deluxe Stickers, and... I'm totally in love with them. So far, I've managed to find a home for two little stickers. One says 'I love answering my phone in a foreign accent', which, with immense originlaity, I've stuck on my phone. And the other, my personal favourite, says: 'I love walking fast to look busy'. Hahaha! I've stuck that one on my desk, to dash the illusion for anyone who ever approaches my desk, that I'm actually occupied. Because I never am! Which neatly brings me full-circle to my opening point, that I'm excruciatingly, painfully, totally without hopefully bored...

Badger

2006-01-03T10:44:00.000Z

I, like many conscientious citizens, am increasingly alarmed by the ‘claim culture’ that currently grips Britain. This morning I had been reading Guardian Unlimited when I came across this little gem: ‘….the list [of scoundrels attempting to falsely claim compensation] also features a bin man who made a claim against his council after being "startled" by a dead badger which fell out of a bag…’

New Year

2006-01-03T09:56:00.000Z

I've decided to start writing my blog again, since it's a new year and all, and since I have loadsa free internet access time at work. This pleases me because often a funny thing happens at work that I wish to tell Anna about in the evening, but then I forget. Eg, just then my boss Teresa was telling us what she got for Christmas. Her husband and herself had agreed not to buy each other presents, but like the good sort he is, he went on ahead and bought her a posh sounding food processor. She was very pleased with this, and apprently he replied: 'well, I always use good tools at work, and this is your job [COOKING] so you should use good tools too'. Hmm, seemed a bit back handed at the time, maybe it isn't so bad afterall. Anyway, off to do some work now, and to find interesting things to write about...

Tranquility Tea? Yes Please!

2005-05-14T17:30:00.000+01:00

I am not in a good mood today. I arrive at work this morning and immediately my mood takes a turn for the worse (I had just been happy with the lovely Anna), because I have to start interacting with an individual I dislike intensely. Simply put, she is a pain in the arse. Anyway, various things she says/does piss me off (‘Katy, would you pass me this/that/the other please [because I’m too fat and lazy to do it myself]?’) and I find that quite suddenly, I am in a bad mood. I then find that a day I want to request off (in a month’s time, plenty of notice) has already been booked off by said pain in the arse. She only works Saturday’s, like myself, but apparently struggles with the idea of doing more than one Saturday per month. So then I’m really pissed off and stomp a bit, saying that I’ll be having that Saturday off, like it or not. For about an hour or so I don’t talk to anyone because I’m pissed off and have nothing to say, and then I decide that instead of staying at work for the remainder of my shift, I’m going home. So I do. I say: ‘I’m going home now’, get my stuff together and leave. Feeling liberated and glad that I did what I wanted rather than hanging about doing what somebody else wanted, I get the bus home. A phone conversation with Anna shortly following confirms my suspicions: that I had been sacked. I don’t care as I have been meaning to leave for a while. Working six days a week does not leave me enough time to spend with Anna and I’m sick of the job anyway. I have now realised, however, that my boss (who has just sacked me) is also a referee on two pending job applications. Oh dear :( Apparently it’s ‘illegal’ to give a bad job reference, so hopefully I’ll be ok. I now just have to deal with the fact that my boss is a good friend and attempt to salvage our friendship, whilst still being sacked.

Upon arrival home from grocery shopping moments ago, I find, to my great dismay, that my housemates are having a BBQ. When confronted with the table laid with every variety of economy burger, chicken wing and sausage available, and the offer to join them, I decline. Great. This means that for the next couple of hours I get to listen to their inane conversations, right outside my bedroom window, where the BBQ lives.

I was also pissed off to find a note left by my ignorant and inarticulate housemate requesting from me my share of the electricity bill. The note read: ‘Electric. £48.50. Ta’. I hate the pig.

Monkfish PI

2005-05-09T17:04:00.000+01:00

Anna is the peach who ate the girl and forgot everything.

Rehearsal

2005-05-08T18:03:00.000+01:00

Last night a few Good People came to my house to play the Labyrinth Drinkning Game. The rules of the game entail that everytime a particular event occurs in the film, The Players must down a shot of their preferred beverage. We decided that we would drink when Sarah says: 'It's not fair!' and/or when we looked at the crotch of Mr Bowie. The game was a success I think; everyone was merry and we had a fun night. I was a little worried at first, since I played hostess and I wanted everyone to have fun, but then I was quite drunk and became unconcerned. Plus, I think everyone did have fun anyway :)

Whilst The One I Love is at rehearsal this afternoon, I plan to do the following things:

Tidy my room;
tidy the living room;
hang my washing out to dry;
have a bath;
sort out a job application;
think about hating men;
think about loving Anna;
eat a cream egg;
read some Shulamith.

When the rehearsal is over, I plan to meet my love in town. When we arrive back at mine, we're going to watch Titus on video.

2005-05-05T17:32:00.000+01:00

I've just spotted this on the home page of blogger.com:

'Did you know that you can turn your blog into a source of revenue with the Google AdSense programme?'

Why the fuck would I want to turn my blog into a 'source of revenue'??

2005-05-05T17:30:00.000+01:00

I’m getting so pissed off with work. It’s the biggest pile of Dog Shite EVER. I started off finding it boring, but not despising it. Then I thought it wasn’t too bad (I work with friendly people), but now I just think it’s complete rubbish. I stare at a computer screen all day, I have a bad head most of the time, I have to read about people’s incomes, I have to try to make myself look acceptably smart (something my errant clothes find highly difficult), I have to laugh at the jokes of ridiculous men: it’s horrible. But the reason this bothers me more these days is because I can’t foresee an alternative. If I had something else lined up, and I could contemplate a time when I wasn’t rubbishing my soul, maybe I could put up with it. However, I can’t foresee such a time. Thus, my general hatred of the job is combined with a redundant frustration. Thank goodness I get to spend my free time with wonderful people!

Anna

2005-05-01T22:33:00.000+01:00

I'm so in love. I feel the need to write it, type it, say it constantly (she's always on my mind), so it should be on here too methinx. She's wonderful and perfect and I'm so very happy :)

Had Bath

2005-04-13T20:34:00.000+01:00

Well, I've had my bath and now I smell of horse chesnuts...according to my bottle of bubbles. Now I'm gonna go read for a bit and attempt to finish THAT book. Then I'm hopefully meeting Anna, if she isn't too exhausted after her rehearsal, and we're going to squeeze in a little Lezzing About methinx. But before all that I'm going to attempt to clean the rust from the interior of my pot of lip-balm. Happy days!

2005-04-13T19:57:00.000+01:00

I hate waiting for the bath to run!

Lezzing About

2005-04-08T21:44:00.000+01:00

Hello my darling, I feel I’ve been neglecting you recently, due to a gorgeously heady lifestyle. An intellectual and I once had a conversation about how my blog was existing to the detriment of my exciting life. Boring life = interesting blog, interesting life = no blog. Ironic no? The more interesting things I get up to, the less time I have to write about them. But now I’m back. I’ve just had a bath and I’m clean and content. I’m also newde, as I feel time without clothes is precious, especially when one is alone.

Recently, I’ve been spending time with a Wonderful Wit called Anna. We’ve done all manor of things, classified simply as Lezzing About. The act of Lezzing About includes such activities as:

Wearing dungarees;
Drinking herbal tea;
Reading feminist classics;
Plaiting eachothers’ hair;
Cooking and consuming vegan (or atleast vegetarian) food;
Discussing and exploring the precise reasons why women are better than men; Attempting to make one’s loved ones’ nipples erect in a variety of new and exciting ways.

So you see, Lezzing About is rather time-consuming. Although I’m going to attempt to find more time to write my blog, I’m also (is it possible?) going to try to squeeze a little more Lezzing About into each day.

Lucky Me

2005-03-31T20:46:00.000+01:00

Lastnight, I partook of fine wine and food with a goddess. How lucky am I?

Curve

2005-03-22T20:57:00.000Z

I'm at Anna's and we're supposed to be going to drink mint tea at Cafe Noor. However, Anna has decided she'd rather read her book. So now I'm blogging and will soon be perusing a copy of Curve for potential lesbo-home-made-badge-images.

Sex

2005-03-17T20:25:00.000Z

Finding myself at a bit of a loose end this evening, I’ve been trawling through the profiles of lesbian and bisexual women on faceparty. I’m always tempted to look at the profiles of girls who have ‘adult content’ (dirty piccies) but I’ve never quite had the courage to do so. I presume that’s the prude in me. Today, I was more tempted to, and wondered why the change in opinion had come about. Then I remembered I haven’t had sex for over a month :(

Colon

2005-03-16T21:33:00.000Z

Ugh, I’m in the worst mood. For no apparent reason, just feel a bit fragile. Feel like I’ve got tears at the back of my eyes and I won’t be able to sleep until they’re all out. This happens at least once a month (suggesting it has something to do with my girl bits) for a coupla days. I’m such a glutton for punishment that I go through my music and find the most depressing songs, apparently just to exacerbate my mood. Or maybe not. Maybe they sooth, even though they appear to have the opposite effect. I once read somewhere that only when you fully embrace a small spell of unhappiness can you get out of it. If you think: ‘yeah, I’m sad but not too sad. It will pass’ the sadness lasts longer. However, if you think: ‘fuck, I’m so unhappy’, making no attempt to deal with the unhappiness or eradicate it, just acknowledge to yourself that it exists, then it passes quicker. Guess it’s the theory of: ‘things can only get better’. Which is totally lame and doesn't apply to me in the least, really. I just feel a bit ratty, I think. I think I use too many colons. I just love ‘em. I just looked ‘colon’ up in the dictionary, to appreciate an exact definition, and this is what it said: (there’s another one!) ‘ the punctuation mark (:) used before an explanation or an example, a list, or an extended quotation.’ Then below that in my Collins dictionary, sits the second definition: ‘ the part of the large intestine connected to the rectum.’ This made me think about how an old tutor of mine defined the semi-colon. He likened it to a gate that allows the sentence to continue logically whilst acknowledging that a second but related point will follow. And then this reminded me of the colon in our bodies which lets shit pass through it, rather like a gate also. Tenuous? Anyway, my mood is a bit better now. There’s nothing like pouring over irrelevant things to cheer oneself up. I think I’m going to take a walk.

Leeds

2005-03-13T01:00:00.000Z

I’ve just come home from an evening out with a few friends. I decided to walk home from town again, because otherwise I’d have to draw out more money for a cab. I love walking through Leeds at night anyway. This evening a man approached me and asked if he could walk with me, to which I replied: ‘yes.’ Moments before, I had walked past a girl on a bench who looked unwell, so I asked if she was ok, and she said: ‘yes, I’m ok, just a little drunk.’ The man who asked to walk with me approached me so that he could commend me for checking the welfare of that girl. So we walked and we talked. And he told me that he wasn’t a stalker, and I told him that I was a black belt in karate [I’m actually a blue belt in judo]. We talked about how I probably shouldn’t be walking around on my own at that time of night and how he probably shouldn’t be approaching girls. Having agreed we were both in the wrong, we amiably parted.

I’m glad we walked together because it’s quite a long walk and I didn’t have my walkman. Plus, I needed a wee and the conversation took my mind of it. I’m in my favourite PJs now and I’m off to bed.

Bright Eyes

2005-03-10T23:56:00.000Z

This evening I went to see a Bright Eyes gig. I liked the band, I loved the support act, but I enjoyed the walk home best.

Shit

2005-03-09T18:50:00.000Z

Work is exhausting me. It's so fucking boring and I have noone to talk to all day. I'm not the most conversational of people, but I'd like to have atleast ONE person to talk with.

Get Stuffed

2005-03-08T20:32:00.000Z

Today at work I stuffed envelopes. All day. And when I wasn’t stuffing envelopes, I was waiting to be told what other apparently redundant task I could be performing instead.

I’ve just noticed that somebody has left a ‘comment’ on one of my entries. Up until now, I thought noone was aware of this blog. I haven’t told any friends, so it comes as a bit of a shock to find someone has been reading it. This is wildly naïve I know, given the point of a blog is that other people read it, and I’m totally unconcerned by the thought of other’s reading it…it’s just that I didn’t think anyone was! I’m becoming a bit precious about this thing, so I think I’m gonna tell friends about it.

Work and Home

2005-03-07T21:17:00.000Z

I started a new job today. With the Leeds and Holbeck Building Society, in the Mortgages Department. From 9am until 2pm (when I had nearly starved to death and my supervisor realised I hadn’t had lunch yet) I extracted pieces of information from the INside of a small file (name, property postcode, loan amount…) and copied this info onto the OUTside of the file. From 3pm until 5pm I removed staples from booklets. That’s it. This is what I get paid to do. I resent this for two reasons: Firstly, I’m clearly wasting my time. Secondly, I’m wasting the money of the company that employs me. After I have written the information on the outside of the file, somebody else copies it, once more, onto a computer spreadsheet. Obviously, either this secondary person or myself could do BOTH of these tasks, saving the time of one of us and the money of the company. If this is what working in an office entails (this is my first experience of office work, hence the menial nature of the tasks I am required to perform) shove it.

I get home this evening at about 7:30pm. This is after I have spent two hours at the house of my best friends. I have a bath immediately (to ensure my hair is dry for the morning, it’s quite thick), I have dinner, then I put on an episode of Six Feet Under, Season Two from a DVD box-set I cherish. I like to watch this programme on my own, firstly, because I enjoy it massively and this is only impaired by the presence of other people who, a) don’t appreciate it and, b) make noise whilst I’m trying to concentrate. And the second reason I watch it alone is because it’s almost a private ritual. I have been working my way through this masterpiece for quite a while now, and the hour in the evening when I watch it has become somewhat of an institution to me. However, this evening, only minutes into my hour of peace, noisy Housemate Number One appears and starts muttering to himself. This pisses me off because I’m obviously actively watching something (rather than passively looking at the box), and because this noisy housemate must have absolute silence when watching his programmes. As if this isn’t irritating enough, Housemate Two appears. They start to talk, even though I shamelessly turn the volume of the TV up, indicating I'm trying to listen, and Housemate Two starts noisily pottering around in the kitchen. Furthermore, the feet of Housemate Two stink and the smell makes me retch. There goes my hour of peace. I can stand it only twenty minutes, then I turn the DVD off and come down here, to my basement room, to play noisy music and gripe at my blog.

My housemates, with whom I usually get along so well, have an immense capacity to piss me off. I suppose this is the case with anybody who lives with anybody else? I’ve lived in a couple of shared houses now, and every year some new and interesting Housemate Habit appears to irritate me beyond belief. Next year my best friend’s and I are planning to live together. Will I bitch about them to a computer as well??

Thurlby Fen

2005-03-06T21:11:00.000Z

So I haven’t been able to blog for a coupla days because my little bitch of a pc was being an arsehole. And a bitch. She’s feeling a little more cooperative today.

This evening I arrived back in Leeds from my Mother’s abode in Thurlby Fen, Lincolnshire. Was very nice to see her, and convenient, given it’s The Mother’s Day Weekend. Apparently the terrestrial television stations went Mother’s Day crazy, dropping it into every possible fictional and non-fictional conversation that featured on the box. If it wasn’t Chris Tarrant banging on about it on Who Wants To Be A Know-A-Little, it was the vacuous presenters of that Fame Academy shitpile. If we loved our mummy’s enough, surely we show this all the other days of the year? Apparently not. Glad I did remember though, coz my mum certainly subscribes to the Mother’s Day Bonanza: if I had have forgotten, I think she would have killed me.
Had a good coupla days actually. On Thursday I had dinner with a very nice girl in a very nice restaurant called Art’s. She had the vegetable stew and I had a Caesar salad. Then on Friday I heard I had a new job to start at. I’m signed with an agency, so they contact me when there is somink available. It’s gonna be soporific I think, but it pays more than my current job and will allow me to pursue my obsessive counting games to my heart’s content. How many pens in the office, staples, staplers, carpet-tiles, water-coolers, paper clips…. Plus, it's around the corner (literally) from my ex-job at Costa Coffee and means I can visit my old boss, whom I love. Actually, it’s not strictly my ex-job, as I will continue to work on Saturday’s for a while. Until the demands of data-entry and carpet-tile counting become too much and I decide my entire weekend must be my own.

The Death Clock

2005-03-02T22:07:00.000Z

If you haven't already done so, check this out:

www.deathclock.com.

The weird thing is, I've put my info in this thing a couple of times now (to try to catch it out) but it's always yielded the same death date. Mine is Friday 20 October 2062. The same date as the first time I discovered Death Clock, when I was 12. I know it's just a big swiz and it could easily be programmed to yield the same info, but it's kinda creepy still. Furthermore, does this mean that on the above date, all female, non-smokers, born on August 8 1983, with a Body Mass Index less than 25 are gonna drop dead? That's a lot of people!

Wart or Verucca?

2005-03-02T21:53:00.000Z

A few months ago I noticed a wart (verucca?) type thing living between the Big and Second toes on my right foot. It didn’t have ‘black seeds’ (as veruccas apparently do) so I assumed it was a wart, but I hadn’t heard of people getting warts on their feet before. Hence my confusion. Anyway, I’ve just had a bath, and whilst drying my feet have noticed that…it’s gone! It was there yesterday because I’m always fiddling with the bloody thing (dirty girl!) but now it’s gone. There’s a faint mark where it once lived, but no blood or lump or anything. Weird eh?

Coffee: A Day of Mindless Conversation

2005-03-02T17:50:00.000Z

Written at work, over a quiet afternoon.

I work in a coffee shop. This morning a man came in and purchased a small hot chocolate. Moments after I had made and served the drink, said man returns it claiming it is ‘too frothy.’ I note that he has still managed to drink over half of it in that short space of time, but offer to top it up for him anyway, at no extra charge. He then comments that ‘at Starbucks, the hot chocolate is wet as opposed to frothy’, to which I reply: ‘oh.’ The chain of coffee shops I work for is not Starbucks; therefore, I have no interest whatsoever in the methods employed by Starbucks to produce their hot chocolate. Why should I? The man suspects that my terse response is because I am resentful at him likening my place of work with the much larger, diverse, popular and wealthy brand of Starbucks; as though I am loyal enough to give a toss about the reputation of my place of work over that of Starbucks; as though I am jealous at not working in the larger chain; as though I cared even vaguely about his opinion on this issue, or any issue for that matter. Incorrect. My ‘oh’ indicates that I frequently hear comments of this nature; that I don’t care; and that I would rather stare at my feet than continue this redundant conversation. He takes the hint and moves away from the counter, with his freshly replenished hot chocolate in tow.

I hate these people. If I am not at work making pointless conversation with a certain co-worker, [Refer to bottom of document for the results of an Experiment conducted over the last hour and ten minutes of the shift], I am making equally pointless conversation with arsewipe customers. [On the way home from work, whilst sitting on the bus, a man approaches me and starts muttering in my direction, obviously as a cue to make MORE conversation. He stinks of ciggies, alcohol and piss.] As a result of today’s findings regards human social intercourse, I am attempting to cultivate new speech patterns for myself. I have already successfully removed the word ‘sorry’ from my vocabulary (e.g.,’…no, sorry, the customer toilets are out-of-order today…’) unless it is absolutely necessary, and the word ‘normal’ (that’s not me being a crazy, lefty, lesbo. From a purely literary point of view, the word is meaningless) which I despise. Now I will endeavour to remove countless other little words of pointless conversationalism (because it is surely these helpless little utterances that encourage the boring speaker to continue): ‘oh right…’, ‘really?’, ‘that’s nice’, until my vocabulary has been reduced only to those words I deem absolutely necessary.

I am in a ratty mood today. Seventeen year old co-worker is splitting up with girlfriend [by end of shift he is planning to propose to her again. Kid you not.] and the pair of them have been bickering over the custody rights to their seven-month-old daughter. I am then exposed to lengthy rants from co-worker about his awful ex. I don’t look at him, I pretend to be playing with my nails, I even polish cups to convey my lack of interest in the day-to-day events of his pointless and inherently tragic life. He is a homosexual, repressed by his ignorant and bigoted family, pushed into an unloving heterosexual relationship with a girl who is so young herself, her breasts are not yet fully developed. And now they have a child together and the relationship has crumbled; who could have guessed? He has been a fool, and until he realises this, and constructively alter his existence, I have no interest in him.

EXPERIMENT:
For the last hour and ten minutes of my shift I decide to exchange as few words as possible with co-worker. The results were as follows, and I have catalogued each word and phrase I utter.

Whilst co-worker is at the coffee machine and I am obliged to announce the drink orders to him from my position at the till:
‘No chocolate on those’;
‘Medium mocha’;
‘Medium cappuccino, medium latte, yep’;
‘Oops’ (popped out inadvertently when we accidentally collided);
‘Small hot chocolate’.

When asked direct questions by co-worker:
‘Yep’;
‘Umm? No’;
‘No’.

These are the only words I spoke. On two occasions, when it looked as though he was about to start a lengthy and boring conversation, I mocked a minor coughing fit until he stopped talking.

With regards to co-worker, my experiments yielded some interesting results. Within the first few minutes of my experiment, co-worker realises something is up. However, amazingly enough, he continues to try to converse with me. This goes on for about twenty minutes, and then he gives up. In the middle of the experiment, co-worker becomes desperate to talk, and so conducts a small conversation with himself about the word ‘fortnight’, and how he hears it very rarely. Towards the end of the experiment, he queries why I keep writing things down (I’m recording my every word) and concludes (with no denial or affirmation from myself) that it is a shopping list.

I feel the benefits of this little experiment, if conducted on a regular basis, will be twofold. Firstly, in the soporific environment of my place of work, the focus provided by this exercise is excellent. I become very conscious of my self, my actions and my speech. And in so doing I feel strangely liberated. And secondly, because I am thinking carefully before I speak, in an attempt to reduce my words to the absolute bare minimum, I am much less likely to lose my temper with co-worker. At points I found the experiment a little challenging (for example, quickly replacing a word with gestures before the word has the opportunity to pop-out) but overall, enjoyed it.

Little One

2005-03-01T22:12:00.000Z

I always used to refer to my ex-girlfriend as 'little one'. She isn't particularly little, nor large. Thinking about it, I believe I coined this name so I could verbally compact her, make her so tiny that I could keep her in my pocket and carry her around with me. Now my ex-little one wants to move to devon. She's sick of her job, sick of the city and wants to make a fresh start in devon. Secretly, i'm devastated. Outwardly, I naturally tell her it's a fantastic idea and that i wish her every happiness, which I do. i need to let go of this girl. I love her horribly, but 'we' will never work again. We need to stop having sex and I need to stop trying to possess her. I had my chance and I blew it monumentally. Now I need to move on. Accept that I love her, accept that I cannot and will not ever be able to have her, and move on.

Legs

2005-03-01T21:06:00.000Z

I've just had a bath. In my bathroom, the bath is opposite the mirror and, although I can't see my full body reflected in it, I can see all the important bits: my torso. I was examining my torso, looking at the bits that stick out too much and the bits that don't stick out enough, and thinking how wonderfully healthy I am. When I was sat in the bath, I continued to examine myself. My lower legs are long and thin, a bit scrawny around the ankles and knees. My upper legs are fuller and a little rippled. If I swam regularly, which I don't currently care to do, I could easily get rid of the mild cellulite. My legs are hairy at the moment because I feel no need to remove it. My bum is a little too low for my liking, but when sat, I find it most comfortable. although I'm a slim girl, my belly sticks out a little. This is because I regularly binge drink, and the few pimples that sometimes feature on my jawline are also as a result of the alcohol. I know what causes these features but because I enjoy partaking in bingedrinking, I will live with them and make no effort to eradicate them. [Hmmm, actually, this isn't strictly true. Firstly, i don't think it's just the alcohol that causes the pimples. Secondly, i'm considering going on the pill to clear my skin up.] My boobies: these are small, but I like them. My shoulders are broad (as a result of once regular swimming) and seem to make my boobs appear smaller. My arms are very long and again, thin. The left one is scarred and always will be, as a result of a spell of ridiculous self harm. Because of the scarring, I hide my arms mostly. My neck is long and thin and vulnerable looking, accentuated by those shoulders of mine, my short hair and my big ears.

Out of the bath, I moisturise thoroughly and take one last look at my bod before I put it in it's favourite pjs. I won't see it again now, until tomo morning when I have a shower before work.

Bored

2005-03-01T19:41:00.000Z

After a night out lastnight, I find myself at a loose end this evening. This is always the case on Tuesday evening, because I always go out on monday evening. As such, I'm too tired to do anything worthwhile on tuesdays, and get very bored. Plus, I always need a nap on tuesday afternoon (to try to recapture some of the lost sleep from the night before) and this disturbs my sleep pattern of tuesday night. I could just cut out the middle man and dispose with my tuesday afternoon nap, but come four o'clock I literally cannot keep my eyes open. So anyway, it's approaching eight o'clock and I'm very bored :( I have a job application that needs filling in, but that appears a little too involved. So instead I'll probably have a bath and lay about. I'll no doubt also endeavour to finish the book I've been reading since the dawn of time, or so it seems. It started off with such promise, and nothing has changed in that respect (the plot hasn't become ridiculous; the characters are still compelling), but I'm getting very bored with it. It's probabaly the fault of mine and not the novel's, as apparently I'm bored with everything right now.

Black Vodka

2005-03-01T13:06:00.000Z

Had a punch party lastnight. A boy attended, who isn't among my inner circle, and got so drunk he couldn't walk. At first I giggled (the circumstances were rather amusing) but then I felt so...guilty. Not pity, guilt. Why? I think I need to place my reactive emotions with more accuracy. Not being a close friend, I was upset for him that no close friend of his was present. I'm sure they would have been of more comfort than us. But probably he wouldn't have realised, being as far gone as he was. How daft of me to feel guilt over such a thing. Turns out his mother and step-father are separating and this was the cause for his ridiculous alcohol consumption (a bottle of40% proof black vodka). Don't think he made work this morning.

Waxy Buds

2005-02-28T13:42:00.000Z

Last night I cut my hair because it's getting too long around the neck. I have it short generally, so I just trimmed a bit off to stop it from looking scruffy and until I arrange a hair appointment. I was pleased with it lastnight, in the dim light of my bedroom, however, this morning I've noticed a big chunk of hair is missing and I've had to trim it some more to balance it out. I am now not so happy with it and will have to make an appointment to get it sorted sooner than expected.

Whilst in the bathroom this morning I found that one kind housemate had deposited a small pile of very waxy earbuds on the side. I was needless to say not very impressed. I think somebody needs to clean his ears a little more regularly.

Newcastle

2005-02-27T23:12:00.000Z

Today I visited newcastle for the afternoon, to see my ex girlfriend. It was very enjoyable, but I'm a little concerned by my continuing desire to sleep with her.Will this pass, or will I have to stop seeing her, to stop wanting to have sex with her? I think she wants to do it too, but nothing has been said. Hmmmm. We've done it loads since we've broken up anyway, but it kinda upsets me a bit. I always want more afterwards - not more sex, more of what we had when we were together. Sex was always really good, but so many other things weren't, so getting back together for the-sake-of-the-sex (as opposed to the children?) seems like a bad idea. Plus, I don't think she would have me back anyway, which, in my off-balance world-view, makes me wanna get back with her even more. I could just stop seeing her I suppose, but we were best friends (aswell as lovers) for two years, so the thought of that really bites. Seems like she should still feature heavily in my little sphere. Aswell, as my first love, she'll always command a certain kudos over those to come. Maybe that's why I'm troubled. I should get out more, maybe not to newcastle though.

Tuxedo

2005-02-26T22:12:00.000Z

(http://news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/ap/20050226/ap_on_re_us/yearbook_tuxedo_3)

Electricity + Water = Crash

2005-02-26T21:00:00.000Z

My housemate has just really fucking pissed me off. It's a small thing, I really know it is, but it indicates some kind of fundamental idiocy in my opinion. In a wildly intelligent whimsy, housemate decides to mix electricity and water. Result? My fucking computer crashes when the fuse (inevitably?) blows. Ugh. I know it's a minor event, but hey, he's a phyicist. Wouldn't we hope that the future of britain's scientific community, at the very forefront of physics-related leaps-and-bounds, wouldn't we hope that a representative of such growth would undertand such basic principles? He laughed when I told him 'I'll smash your face in if anything important is lost'. Ha.

Intentions

2005-02-26T04:07:00.000Z

Right, so I've decided what I'm gonna do this eve to prevent cabin fever: watch cruel intentions. This seems like quite an easy solution (suggesting I was exaggerating about the cabin fever) but the benefits are massive. Cruel intentions is on at nine and this means I can plan what to do before then, and then after the film has finished. This way I don't feel like a complete waster (inherent to the cabin fever process) and I'm maximising my time usage. Voila.

First Timer

2005-02-26T01:54:00.000Z

Hey. Not entirely sure what I'm gonna write here just yet, but I guess I'll kick my muse into shape and think of something good. Had a day off work today and have done NOTHING. This is nice, until the evening when the early stages of cabin fever set in, and I start to claw at the walls with boredom. Literally.

http://www.suite101.com/files/mysites/AskAlice/Clock.htm