But this year I really mean it. And I believe I mean it too. This year, things will change. It’s time for me to change I think. Not to dwell or linger on anything for too long but I’ve gone on a little bit too melancholy for a little too long now, got into some bad habits. It’s time to re-address some issues, take stock and move forwards. Onwards and upwards, leaving behind some baggage that was weighing me down. I think the problem is half the time that you carry a heavy bag for long enough and then you don’t quite now how to walk alone without it.
Maybe I’ll dye my hair. Yeah.
A change, my dear. And it seems not a moment too soon.
Okay, the last two posts were so self pitying that I can’t even re-read them. I have moved on from self pity now, I’m now on a nice dose of self loathing. A writer’s favourite.
Sat down to write this evening. I wrote the beginning of my third promotional short story. It sucks. It stinks. I found it boring to write and boring to read. The concept is great ( thanks Steph) but the way I wrote it was awful! I can do better, I know I can. In the end I knew my heart wasn’t in it so I gave up.
Then I re-read some of my other stuff and I thought hey this is pretty good – but then I was interrupted and now I don’t have time tonight to finish what I started.
Then I get cross at myself for not doing enough. The pressure one puts on oneself is quite enormous. Writers write – if you’re a writer you should be writing and you’re not writing so you must not be a writer! But I am writing in my mind! God if you could just plug brain into computer I’d have done loads! Words can get muddled and meaning can get lost on that journey between brain and keyboard.
I’ve decided though, she’s called Edith.
I need to get more organised. I need charts and schedules and things. A PA would be great, oh and a motivation person – a life coach!!!
Right, I have to go and have a bath.
Right. That last post got me thinking, and now I’m on a self-pitying warpath so bear with me.
University is cruel. It is. Best three years of your life, oh yes. But after? After is horrid. After is the most awful emotional process I’ve ever had to go through. I know I’m not alone, at least two people I’ve actually opened up to about this have said the same. I mean you go from being a more of less socially introverted wallflower to having these brilliant friends that become a very real family. You live with them, eat with them, cry, laugh, urinate (when drunk) together – you feel like you know yourself, like you are the person you’re meant to be.
Then it ends and everyone’s scattered. Worse, people change. People don’t seem as fussed as you are, they seem to be getting on fine whilst you have to hide the photos of all of you as it makes you feel sick to look at them.
Then you become hardened by it I think. You become cynical, a bit darker than you were. The Freudian id comes out to play. The frustration of life not being as good makes you angry, you get that fire in your belly and you become a bitch. I am SO cynical now. All that soppy cancer/war hero/animal rescue shit on Facebook makes me feel ill quite frankly. I know that’s different to how I was before, I have changed, I know I have.
Three things hold me together:
1) Andrew. He stops me from being too crazy, makes me laugh even when I’m trying to be miserable.
2) My writing. The one place I’m never cynical. My books are set at a university, I think I escape through them to that time again.
3) Steph. Because she’s the best, because she gets me and I get her.
People live too far away.
It seems to me (you lived your life, like a candle….no, sorry – won’t go there,) that I haven’t blogged in a while, so I thought I would. What’s going on in my life?
Procrastination. Frustration. Christmas excitement. That about sums it up.
Steph came to see me for our fake Christmas which was lovely, we get each other exactly so it’s always so amazing to be together. Now she’s gone again so I have that slight empty sick feeling in my brain – university turned me into a gregarious creature, it does cruel things like that. Loneliness doesn’t work very well with me. I end up washing down the countertops three times a day, obsessively arranging the soap in the bathroom and talking to a pretend friend on the sofa.
I escape into my writing when I’m not exhausted from a hard day of being unfulfilled at work, and my darling Andrew is of course a constant comfort and source of enormous happiness. But partners aren’t everything are they? You need people. Chums. Pals. Mates.
Hmmm, lost the thread here. Going to start another post.
Had a lovely chat with my bestie Steph last night. It reminded me of just how lucky I am to have her and his fantastic it is that I have someone who I can say is 100% on my same wavelength about pretty much anything and everything. To have someone who is just as unhinged as me, just as mad, bitter, crazy and sometimes psychotic. I spend a lot of time feeling lonely, but I guess when you’re that mentally close to someone it really doesn’t matter how physically close you are.
I know she doesn’t care for self indulgent blogging, but I hope with this blog post she’ll make an exception. Long may you be my characterisation and continuity consultant/advisor in a smock/ heavy/right hand man. Long may we moan, laugh and be bitter together. Long may two psychopaths live in this TARDIS.
Well I must say I was surprised to tune in to channel 4 last week and see a younger, fresher faced, slightly more well spoken, slightly more effortlessly stylish version of myself doing a documentary about not being able to forget!
I jest of course, but the subject matter of the programme did ring several bells with me. Andrew recommended it for viewing as he said it reminded him of me and when my friend Kirsty came to visit she said that when she watched it she had thought the same thing. Of course, the people in the show could “not forget” a lot more than me – and it was slightly creepy to watch Orellian (?) and that American woman recall days from years and years ago with deadly accuracy.
I do think there’s something in it. The narrator of the show seemed quite suspicious of it all, but then I suppose that was his job. I was fascinated to hear the brain doctor guy talk about how they don’t really know how or why we forget. Obviously there are things like Dementia and genertal old age/break down of cells – but what makes us just forget things. Who do we forget what happened on June 16th three years ago? Why don’t we remember that? Do we just not have enough gigabytes in our brains? Are most people the 16 gig iphones and these special people the 32 gig iphones? I’m probably somewhere in between, 24 I bet.
Let me test myself then. June 16th I said – three years ago. I promise to you I just picked that date at random. So that’s June 16th 2009 – right around the time I left uni. The question is when exactly did I leave? Oooh, oooh wait – my Topman interview was in June, and I’d swear it was something like June 10th. I was still in Canterbury for a while after that because I specifically remember telling everyone in the kitchen there that I’d got the job – I said I had a big announcement and Jason asked if I was getting married, then everyone laughed because I’d been engaged for 6 months at that point. Hmmm but June 16th. Let me just check what day it was – cheating a bit I know but evidently I’m not as good as Orellian. Okay, just checked and it was a Tuesday. No that doesn’t help.
Right, I admit defeat. I can’t remember like that. But I can remember stuff that happened around that time. Give me a month and a year (within the last five years for accuracy) and I can probably tell you something that happened, probably several things. I do believe I have some mild strain of this not being able to forget “disease” if that’s what it is. It’s more than just a good memory, I’ve always said that. A good memory would mean you’d remember important stuff. I’m always forgetting important stuff like how to do my job and when certain birthdays are. It’s not forgetting, that’s definately what it is. I don’t need or necessarily want to remember a lot of the things I do. There’s one day in particular I would quite happily wipe from my brain if it was possible but it’s sealed on there in vivid detail, every second of it.
I suppose I quite like it in a way, it makes me interesting. Makes people interested in me. Without it I wouldn’t be writing this blog, that’s for sure. So, a 24 gigabyte memory then, to go with my 24 years of age. Not a 32 gig like Orellian, but I don’t think I’d want it. I’d only fill it up with useless clutter and believe me when I say, there’s more than enough useless and even harmful clutter in my brain as it is.
Just read my last blog post and realised how much I need to update. Let’s just say this: attempt failed. Mission aborted. Well, sort of anyway.
As usual with me, I dived in head first right at the deep end (a dangerous habit considering I can’t swim) and not suprisingly I started drowning. Getting up at half 6 then working 7 til 5 whilst running to work and exercising every evening AND eating super healthy AND trying to keep housework under control AND editing my first book AND writing my third book – well, it was a recipe for disaster. I got ill in the end because I think it was all too much. Yes, yes people have it tougher, but for me that’s a lot to juggle. Something had to give, and I’m afraid it’s the exercise. I still try and do bits when I can, but it’s not every day. I’m still eating sort of healthy though – smaller portions and no snacky junk in the evenings except at the weekend.
I hated getting ill, it doesn’t happen often. Laid up in bed or festering on the sofa unable to move – all you’re left with is your thoughts. Still, I won’t say it wasn’t completely lacking in benefit. The rest was good for me in a way, as alone with my thoughts it did mean I had some kind of epiphany;
I’m 23, edging towards 24. Young yes, but there are those younger who have done a lot more than I have. You see my brain got a bit muddled, a bit waylayed I guess. I’ve been trying to push everything at once and I’ve ended up pushing nothing, and all the time there’s one thing that I want to do more than anything. Write. Over the last five years I’ve poured blood, sweat and tears into writing my novels – but I’ve done nothing with them. The publishing world is shrinking, agents taking on fewer and fewer people – whilst a million new ways to read on ipads and kindles and whatever else develop everywhere. So I’m taking it into my own hands, seriously this time. I will see my first book published this year, as I will do it myself. No more distractions, no more self sabotage, no more dilly-dallying about. This time, I mean business. I’m going to finish editing book one and get it out there – by any means necessary. And I’m thinking of other projects too:
– “Skins” style dramedy novel set in ancient greece.
– Novel series about a young man who travels round the country in a VW van investigating supernatural stuff, running from a mysterious past.
– Script for a tv series set in a huge london fashion store.
-Novel/novel series that will try to make local government sexy.
– Oh and I also have it in my mind to see if I can interest any papers by writing a no punches pulled account of my time at Topman, letting people know what really happens in Philip Green’s jewel in his crown. Call it my revenge for a year and half of being made to feel like a schoolchild.
See, I have lots of ideas. Now I’m going to go and start getting them going. Watch this space!