I haven’t said much on here for a while. I’ve been thinking about this blog and what to do with it. I’ve been struggling with it for months, but I feel like a break from it has given me the space to think about what I want to write about and how I’d like to write it.

In case anyone’s interested, here are a few personal highlights from the last week or so.

Someone offered me a four-figure sum to buy a website I’ve been developing (not this one). I agonised over the offer for a few days (credit card bill), then turned him down. I decided to keep it going, in the belief that I can make more money from it in the long-term. Since I discussed the whole thing with my parents, they haven’t said a thing to me about being on the computer too much. I guess they can see that I’ve been doing something of value on here.

I’ve been offered some other web work by a friend of a friend, which could turn into a regular gig. Looks like this could potentially be my new path. My current goal is to be able to quit the day job and work 100% online.

On Tuesday evening I bumped into my old private French tutor (from 10 years ago) on the way home from work. We decided to go to a nearby pub to have a proper chat. We caught up on each other’s news (he keeps himself very busy as an advocate for all sorts of people in need). I spoke a little bit about my worries about my lack of direction and the way that I often change interests, but he told me not to worry, that he’d been the same in his 20s. He also advised me to take up volunteer work, which is something I’ve considered a few times but haven’t pursued. He’s definitely a force for good.

One of my favourite authors is Valerie Martin. I’ve read several of her novels, but there are a few left for me to discover. A few weeks ago I found 2 of her earlier novels in a discount bookshop near my workplace. I bought them both happily. I started one of them, A Recent Martyr, a few days ago. On the train to work on Friday I reached the end of page 34, which was looking like a really critical scene, and found that the next page was the author’s dedication. After that the novel restarted from page one. I was a bit baffled but just turned to the second “page 34″ again. However the next page was 83, meaning that I’d lost nearly 50 pages! Downcast, I put the book back in my bag and turned to look out of the train window. I’ll go back to the shop with my receipt tomorrow in the hope that they’ll have a normal copy. This reminded me of an art project where this guy left a box marked FREE BOOKS in the street, but anyone taking one of these books would have eventually discovered that the last few pages had been tore out.

I started the second Martin book that I’d bought and discovered that I’d already read it. I’m still re-reading it now as I’ve forgotten most of it. It’s a constant feeling of déjà lu: I recognise the scenes as I read them.

I bought four tickets to the NKOTB concert in January, but decided to resell two of them on ebay because most of my friends weren’t interested. I made about £20 profit, but I was happy to just cover my initial expenditure. A couple of people asked me to end the auction early, but I declined as I usually make more money as a lot of people (smartly) wait til the end to bid. There are loads of people selling tickets for the concert at crazy prices, but I think I did well because my start price was reasonable and I have great feedback.

I also bought tickets to see Robin Thicke in a couple of weeks. I was really gutted to have missed out on his concerts here last year, but I’m looking forward to seeing and hearing him in person. (Just realised that he’s got a new album, how did I not know that?!)

Over the last few years I’ve been cultivating interests that aren’t compatible with my existing network of friends, so I’ve decided to go solo when appropriate. I’m fed up of missing out on things because I’ve been reluctant to attend on my own. As Henry David Thoreau said: “The man who goes alone can start today; but he who travels with another must wait till that other is ready.”

I’m baking right now. It’s so hot and sticky here that I can’t think straight. I’ve got an electric fan but it’s not helping much.

My bedroom’s a tip, and I keep looking at the random crap strewn around the room. It’s nearly 8pm and I haven’t made up my bed.

There are so many things I could write about here, but the urge to blog has disappeared for tonight. I’m hoping that by tomorrow I’ll have sorted my head out.

I haven’t been very active on here in the last couple of weeks. I just didn’t feel like blogging, and whatever I wrote felt forced. The lack of comments also bothered me, as I started to feel like I wasn’t connecting with anyone, or that the people who used to come here had lost interest.

At the same time, I’ve had a load of new visitors to the old post that was stumbled, and strangely I felt very uncomfortable with the extra attention. I was also sensitive to the criticism that the post provoked and the feeling that I had to defend myself to people who didn’t give a damn about me. I guess it made me feel vulnerable, and wary of revealing my feelings while all of that was still going on. I guess it wasn’t totally a bad situation, as I’ve picked up a couple of new readers. I’m such a contrary creature, lots of bloggers would kill to have thousands of visitors like that, but perhaps I’m not ready for the masses right now.

So what’s been happening for me? Here’s a quick catchup of the last week or so.

Fri 13 June: Not long after I’d left work at 6pm I saw a guy in his 50s walking down the road. He was shouting obscenities as he walked along, and as he passed me (without actually looking directly at me) he shouted out the N-word. It was the first time that I’ve ever been called that, and though it was a shock I didn’t take it personally as the guy was obviously mental.

Sat 14 June: The house next door to my parent’s home is up for sale, and after seeing the for sale sign I called up the estate agents and got an appointment to view. It was more for curiousity than anything else, as I wouldn’t really want to live next to my parents, wouldn’t want a 3 bedroom house to myself and wouldn’t be able to get a mortgage anyway. The guy who’d lived there died a few months ago of Emphysema, I think he was in his late 50s and seemed like a nice guy. The estate agents had given a price of about £230,000, and said that it needed modernisation, so I wasn’t expecting a palace, but the house was quite dilapidated and looked like nothing had changed in the last 30 years. Though structurally the house was a mirror image of ours, it looked smaller somehow. It would take a lot of work for someone to fix up that house, but it could have a lot of potential for a property developer or a family who didn’t need to move in straight away.

Wednesday 18 June: Had my last session with the counsellor. It was a strange session, and I felt quite ambivalent about the whole thing. One thing I said was that I felt that the eight sessions weren’t really enough, it was like using a plaster to cover a gunshot wound. It wasn’t a total waste of time, and we did discuss some issues that have been affecting me for a long time. One of the things I can keep in mind from the sessions is that sometimes I assume that I know what other people think of me, and sometimes I use those assumptions to push people away.

I also have trust issues, but I feel entitled to them since I always get hurt when I trust people. During one session when I discussed a guy who had betrayed my trust quite recently, she asked me why I was blaming myself when he was the one who’d lied and misled me, and I told her that I was upset with myself for not trusting my instincts, for giving someone the benefit of the doubt when I should have listened to my intuition.

Unless I pay for private therapy I don’t really have many other options. I’ve still got a spare pack of Prozac which I could possibly return to, but I’m not sure that it’s the best option for me. I prefer to feel the way I feel, even if I feel like crap.

Friday 20 June: I went out to get a very late work lunch at 4pm. In the chicken and chips shop this Eastern European man starts talking to me. I looked at him briefly and realised from his reddened face that he was probably drunk. When he whispered something about my breasts I felt sick and ignored him.

After work I took the tube to Oxford Circus and visited Chappells, a music shop, for a particular jazz and blues sax song book. Though the shop has moved from its previous home in New Bond Street to Waldour St, it still felt like visiting a old friend. I was reminded of the old me, the girl who was so taken with her musical dreams.

Later on, a few streets from home, a old geezer tried to sweet-talk me, but I ignored him. Then to top it all off, when I got home and checked my email I saw a bizarre message sent via my contact form: “u are so sexy u no dat. can u send me some of ur pictures naked to my email.” My only response to that lovely message was the delete button.

And in other news: The other day at work I was asked to fax our payroll request to the bank because my colleague had called in sick so that we would all get paid on time. When I saw the sheet I realised that my colleague, Kay, was getting paid nearly £500 more than me after tax, and she only works half a day more than me. Seeing that information has really changed my attitude towards her and my job in general. She often asks me for advice, especially with computing and technical stuff, but since there’s so much difference between our pay (and she’s not my boss) I’m going to concentrate on my work and leave her to get on with hers. It’s becoming more obvious how much this job is just a dead-end for me, though I still haven’t sorted out what to do next.

My boss asked me to help her with a short-term project for the next few weeks in addition to my normal hours. Though the work itself is very tedious and boring, I decided to go ahead with it for the money. The only good thing about it is that I’m working from home. I’ve been finding it really hard to give up my days-off, but I console myself that this arrangement is not forever.

Check out the following video, sit through the entire piece of music then tell me how it made you feel. For me it was intense and yet charged with humour. Once the novelty of it fades the experience heightens for everyone involved. I would have loved to have been sitting in the Barbican while this was performed.

4′33″

There is no such thing as an empty space or an empty time. There is always something to see, something to hear. In fact, try as we may to make a silence, we cannot. ~ John Cage

“I need to show you something,” my father said to me. I followed him to the living room where he switched on the television. After a few seconds I realised that I was watching a morbidly obese man being given a stomach bypass.
“If you’re not careful, one day that will be you.”
I went back to the kitchen to wash up, feeling humiliated and hurt. As he walked past me I said the one thing guaranteed to annoy him, “You’re always talking about the “Babylon” (the Police), well you’re acting just like them now.”

So how did this conversation arise? Well, I’d noticed in recent days that my father had been talking to me in quite a brusque manner. As I didn’t think that I’d done anything that could upset him I attributed it to the fact that he’s started a new job which might be giving him some stress. When I was eating dinner and he entered the kitchen he seemed quite annoyed at me, and I asked him if his job was stressing him out. That’s when he made his comment.

I should have expected it really. Last week I overheard my mum saying to him, “Maybe she’ll listen to you.” The next day she decided to have another go at me about my weight, and about the time I spend on the computer. Since she’d done the dirty work I’d wondered whether he would still bother to raise the issue.

It still hurts. The more they tell me to lose weight the more that they become a part of the issue. Instead of it being my problem, in my twisted mind it has increasingly become me vs them. I have told them so many times that telling me off doesn’t help me at all, but they don’t hear what I’m saying.

Now spending time on my computer has become something bad, yet another thing that I mustn’t do. I sit in this chair cringing when they walk past the room, waiting for that look at me or comment about me spending too much time on the computer.

Sometimes I go out just so that they don’t have to look at me with disgust for a few hours, just so that the comments stop for a little while. There are only a few hours each week when I can have the house to myself. I’m planning to get up early tomorrow morning to take advantage of one of those times, though it’s not enough to make a real difference.

I feel so inhibited around my parents. I would like to have an exercise routine, but I feel so awkward about exercising when they’re around. Though I know that I’m hurting myself in the long run, exercising with their knowledge feels like I’m agreeing with them about my weight, like it’s a victory for them. Part of me knows that it shouldn’t matter, but I’m finding it difficult to think straight about this issue.

It’s not like I don’t want to lose weight. Especially now that the weather is hot I’d love to have a fit body to wear nice clothes, to be more active outdoors, etc. Last week I bought myself an exercise bike, as I’d been thinking about the spinning classes I used to enjoy and wanted to replicate them at home. I think about slimming down every day.

I’m not blaming my parents for me being overweight, but their comments aren’t helping me to feel better about myself, which is the only way I’m going to find the strength to commit to it. I feel like I’ve been kicked when I was already down.

I wish I had a friend who I could talk to about all this stuff. I saw my counsellor yesterday afternoon so I’ll have to wait another week before I can talk to her about it. I feel myself unravelling. I used to be so strong, but now I feel so weak, like one more stab of negativity would destroy me.

I want to leave here. Move out. Maybe even move abroad. Have a fresh start. A new life. One step at a time. Next step is to make a plan.

The other day I came across a post on Liane’s blog about a list of 1001 books which apparently must be read before we all die. I’ve only read 21 of those books so far, and only recognised the other ones which had been made into movies. The shame of it.

Thinking about it though, quite an industry has been created in the world of books and lifestyle television to extoll the importance of reading a certain 1001 books, of visiting 1001 particular places, of viewing 1001 paintings, etc. Obviously it wouldn’t be reasonable to expect someone to watch 1001 movies, but if someone were interested in doing so it would have to become their life’s work. No marriage could survive the pressure of visiting 1001 gardens or 1001 natural wonders; no normal career could accommodate such a task.

So are these books an impossible challenge or a burden? As we age will we look upon that hardback book on our coffee table and like the clich� says, regret all the things that we haven’t done? Will we really care that we haven’t swum with dolphins or read Ulysses?

Maybe I’m thinking too deeply about this issue, perhaps they are simply an easy way to experience those experiences vicariously. Instead of reading 1001 books, we can read or just dip into this single tome and feel more informed and enlightened. Instead of visiting Monét’s garden in Giverny, we can look at a double-paged spread of the Bridge over a Pool of Water Lilies, and express the notion that one day we’ll go there and see it for ourselves. Instead of going to the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa, we can admire her from oceans away (though I can confirm that it’s definitely not the same as seeing that little portrait in person).

In addition to what we can do in person, we are able to enjoy a sort of virtual experiencing. We can imagine ourselves in any situation, in any place which has been recorded in ink or online. There may be a time when we may not need to leave our homes to explore the world via virtual reality. Imagine it; I could visit the Grand Canyon, while Becca from Chicago checks out the Tower of London. Sounds cool, but I prefer to give my passport an airing from time to time. Real experience may be limited, but it’s never limiting. It’s the usual message of quality over quantity.

I decided to search the Itunes shop for songs entitled Before you die, and came across the following song by a guy called Mr Moods. I listened to his album and ended up buying the whole thing, it’s a chilled-out mélange of trip-hop and hip-hop.

Mr Moods: Before You Die

It’s true what they say: If you want something done, ask a busy person. Two years ago I was that busy person, and I got so much done. Now I’m working part-time, and I can barely get out of the bed these days.

Time, like money, is a luxury, and like money it can be squandered unwisely. I’ve haven’t been to work for the past nine days, and my only real achievements during that time are watching Heroes Season 2 and a few eps of Weeds Season 2. I can’t be totally surprised as I didn’t have a plan. Without a plan it’s easy to succumb to the temptation of daytime television, random websites and calls from sailors instead of concentrating on moving forward with my life.

My birthday has become a time when I think about my life direction. Since my 25th birthday I’ve been stressing about my 30th. There’s still a part of me that feels that my life should be sorted by then, that I should have a flat and a creative career, regular holidays abroad and perhaps Daniel Craig as my naked butler. Is that too much to ask for?

My mother cruelly keeps on reminding me that I’m returning to work tomorrow. It’s going to be hell, but I can look forward to the weekend at least.

If I’d had some money I might have gone to Europe or even Scotland, but my credit card bill is still on my mind.

My mum has also been on holiday for the last two weeks, which has been a factor in my declining level of sanity.

Vid: We Gotta Get Out Of This Place by The Animals

I can’t sleep. It’s nearly four am.

I know that I’ve neglected this blog recently, and it also feels like I’ve been neglecting myself too.

I’m really starting to dislike my job; every day it feels harder to drag myself there.

I don’t feel like my life is going to improve, like all I’ve got to look forward to is another 40-50 years of tedium. And yet there’s a tiny voice inside of me that believes that I can change my life for the better.

I constantly feel underestimated. I also feel that several people are taking advantage of me on a regular basis. It’s got to stop.

One of my issues is that I often let people get away with a certain amount before I make a fuss. I hate to create conflict, so I end up leaving it until all that bottled-up resentment erupts from deep inside of me.

I feel like I’m always doing favours for other people, but rarely does anyone help me when I need a hand. People will take and take and take and not think about my feelings or needs.

I’ve started to realise that I want to be self-employed. I want to be my own boss. Administration is a very humbling occupation; not only do you have to manage your own workload, but you often have to foresee and sort out problems caused by other people, usually without broadcasting that you’ve saved the day (yet again).

I often feel patronised by people who seem to think I’m an idiot because I’m "only" a receptionist-cum-secretary-cum-PA-cum-general dogsbody. Sometimes the smugness from certain people drives me into a secret rage. I also feel annoyed when people who seem to be chronically disorganised mess up my workload with last-minute tasks which they should have told me about earlier.

Administrators are the invisible heroes in every industry; as someone said to me recently: Administration only attracts attention when it’s not working properly. If you come into contact with an Administrator, treat them with respect - they really deserve it.

I’ve worked in Admin since 2002, and before that I worked in retail/customer service. I think it’s time for me to move on.

Mariah Carey: Outside

It’s hard to explain
Inherently it’s just always been strange
Neither here nor there
Always somewhat out of place everywhere
Ambiguous
Without a sense of belonging to touch
Somewhere halfway
Feeling there’s no one completely the same

Standing alone
Eager to just
Believe it’s good enough to be what
You really are
But in your heart
Uncertainty forever lies
And you’ll always be
Somewhere on the
Outside

Outside by Mariah Carey

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One of the best aspects of my job is that it gets me out of the house a few days each week. I get to commute to work by train, and mix with a variety of London folk. Each day is different, and all these little snippets of experience help to define *my* London life. (more…)