If I do get this PhD - and to be honest I haven’t been expecting to for quite some time - I’m going to be moving out of Manchester fairly soon (of course, I’d essentially have to live up here for a week when the show hits).
Time is running out. Current mood: throw the dice, what the hell.
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Anyone perusing some of my older entries might notice some minor alterations; wonderfully futile gestures at circumspection. Most probably the horse has already bolted and the door is still open, the word ‘closed’ scrawled upon it in crayon. This despite the obvious point that I have been hoping all along to, um, go horseriding. (The continuation of the metaphor here trumps my natural reticence/neuroses against directly confronting that sort of thing. Seriously; I have issues!) Why have I done this? Well, I couldn’t give you a good, solid reason because there isn’t one. It turns out I have a wider readership than I suspected (ie, a readership) – Hello, readers! – so I shall have to bear this in mind when being indiscreet in future. Anyway, on with the blogging: The Show It’s more than a little terrifying that there only 4 more MUGSS rehearsals until christmas. I’m going to need to do a lot of work. Having said that, it’s looking like the show is going to be fantastic and I’m really looking forward to it. I was amused to notice that, of the men who’d had their measurements taken so far, I had the shortest inside-leg. Since I am on a bit of a mission right now to get in shape I’ll be very interested to see if I can get a comparison set in a few months time. Mental note: must get weighed. The Good Food Show Was where I went on Saturday. It was good but bloody packed. Saw a couple of celebrity chefs (including a 30-minute sweary presentation by Gordon Ramsey during which I fell asleep. It was hot, I was tired and had been standing up carrying a heavy bag all day….). I also got a small lesson in whisky courtesy of AJ. It seems I’m a speyside man, which probably means I’m a pussy. The Cheltenham, um, Show After that it was straight off to Mike and Pam’s annual housepartyfest. It was rather good, one highlight(?) bring staying up till 4.30am watching the Ashes. On teletext. Oh yes. It was at the party I uncovered disturbing evidence of my unsuspected readership. Hallo Robin and Chris! I wonder what other lurkers lie about. I hope I’ve not said anything… unwise. :) Well, what else? Oh, yes, that. Nope, I didn’t. Is anyone else getting a little bored by this? To be fair, I didn’t have the opportunity to do anything. I do still want to at least get this out of the way. I think perhaps I’ve been waiting till I can find a funny/entertaining way of doing it. So far… I’ve got nothing. I also think that if I knew she’d be OK with me afterwards I’d have little problem doing it, so that must be a factor too.
If on Saturday you stayed at a party till 5.30am, drinking a fair amount of high quality beer, it would be fair to expect that most of Sunday would be spent nursing a respectable hangover.
Fair, but totally wrong.
I went to bed at 6.30, after creating the previous blog entry (hardcore/deeply sad) and seriously could have got up at 9. I only stayed in bed till 12 out of some sense of decency. And as anyone who went to the sunday rehearsal can attest, I was a little hyperactive.
I’m still feeling somewhat energetic. Don’t know why*. I’m not complaining. It’s great. I am really trying to get back in shape now**, which should be easy if my ankles or knee don’t play up. This week I’m going to see if I can avoid crisps and chocolates… and maybe not drink too much beer.
* Perhaps it’s the decreased drag caused by my newly-shaved head?
** Why? Well, because I’ll feel better… and if I’m going to be topless and painted blue in front of lots of people I’m going to be as least-disgusting as possible.
So, that’s a step in the right direction.
OK… so… what do I intend to do now about… her? Well, I don’t know. I was shoved into a room (by horribly ruthless people) with ony L in it and I completely bottled it. It’s all very well knowing that it’s for my own good… but that’s not much use in the face of a Crushing Sense Of Futility. Not just that; I felt saying anything would just make one or both of us uncomfortable… and it suddenly seemed a very bad idea. Nethetheless, I nearly said something. I kept opening my mouth and getting (decreasingly) surprised and (increasingly) amused to discover no words coming out of it. At this point we heard the game of I Have Never being played in the other room and L rushed out. Am entertaining myself by wondering just how much she knew what was (not quite) going on there….
Do I intend to do anything now? I don’t know. I think I’d need more of an encouraging situation than when she’s completely absorbed in reading manga on the web… and I don’t think there’s going to be one.
Did I finally say anything to L?
No. Seriously, what were you expecting?
As Mahinda said on the cab ride home, she blatantly isn’t interested.
And as I replied, of course she isn’t… but that’s not the point.
What to do now? I cannot carry on as I am. I cannot go straight to being the person I’d like to be, the person I might have been if I hadn’t kept putting dealing with my life on hold for the last 15 (or more?) years. But I also seem unable to take intermediary steps.
Relationships (and social things in general) aren’t the only aspect of my life that needs to improve. If I don’t get this PhD in Norwich then I am going to need to get a proper job ASAP. This would, of course, be a step forward but seems both inordinately difficult and, in the case of pretty much all careers, a terrible step back. Even if my vague, scrawled dreams have to be ditched, my dreams are all I have. I could not be content with a ceiling stifling my imagination, which is all the real world seems to offer. If I can’t work towards something I’m intellectually excited about then I feel my psyche will continue the slow dessication it’s been going through for so long now.
Ah hell, I was feeling quite happy when I started writing this. I saw a problem, I wanted to solve it. I’d better stop now before I get completely stuck in this mire.
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I’m posting this using the Firefox extension Performancing, which means I don’t have to bother logging in to my blog at all. Very handy for lazy buggers like me who aren’t inclined to blog much.
Oh yes, I’ve just remembered what I was going to do next: google ‘learn how to sing’…
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This was going to be a comment, but then I realised just how big the damn thing was….
Ah, facebook is OK to have on the go. It’s useful and occasionally amusing. Hell, I think it’s a small step to take once you have a blog!
As for being defeatist… I guess that’s a big problem of mine. I just can’t see how to sort out my problems without being someone else.
I don’t think the notes (as facebook calls these imported posts) are prominently flagged on the site, so I doubt anyone from there is in fact reading any of this. And if they are… oh, well, it doesn’t matter. You’re all correct: I have to say something to L. I’ve been meaning to for about 5 weeks now. It just hasn’t happened. I’m a coward and she keeps not being conveniently situated. Plus, I’m something of a coward. This is a big factor. That, and the cowardice.
I’m going to do it even though I don’t see it as having even a small chance of success (in the having-a-relationship, as opposed to the becoming-a-better-Rosy, sense). The reasoning being:
a) I’ve got to do something like this sometime.
b) I have no interest in girls I have no interest in. Um. You know what I mean.
c) If I waited until I saw a girl I liked and thought there might be possibilities… well, see a).
I wonder why I always* pick seemingly unattainable targets. Because I see no attainable ones, or because it’s easier than having to force myself into that world? I think both. I’ve forgotten, if I ever knew, how to go about attaining. And… I’m not comfortable with my use of the word ‘target’ here! Or even the bit about attainment. I don’t really see it that way, it (oh gods this sounds so PC) objectifies the other party too much, makes it all about my desire to own and control… of which I really have none of whatsoever. I don’t know why I thought this was important enough to tack on to the end of the paragraph, but somehow it is.
* - Not always. Remember Dee from my MSc? I know she had a boyfriend but I had somehow managed to convince myself there might be something there.
Anyway… I’ve really got to address my mood-swings at some point. It’s just possible that what I really need is to stop my life sucking in so many ways!
I’m really bad at updating this thing. Sorry. I suck.
This blog is now cohabiting over at my facebook page (yes, this quite likely makes me somewhat sadder than I was before), so an extra potential audience of thousands will also not be reading it. I’m fairly sure I’m not utilising facebook to its full potential, as I constantly get updates telling me just how much my friends are doing on it. This seems an implied reprimand from facebook; look at all the things that these people are doing? Why aren’t you? Don’t you like me? I bet you’d feel good if you joined one of these group things! I can make your life better if you let me in. Why won’t you let me in?!
I would just like to pause here to say that Power Out by Arcade Fire is currently playing on my PC. Oh!
With all these people possibly reading this — assuming they make it this far — comes the question: should I start being a little… circumspect with what I talk about? I know some people who never talk about personal stuff on their blogs and others who… hmm… do. A lot.
Of course, what I’m talking about here is girls that I like. This has been a very long-running and high-profile topic in my own head since I was 4, and after 23 years the whole thing has become more than a little repetitive and tiresome. In fact, it’s been all downhill since a moment of bravery when I was 5 and I put a Valentine’s card in a girl at school’s desk. (She ripped it up in front of the class the next day. I think this might have influenced my future expecations a little.) Since that moment I’ve had lots more crushes, mostly on girls I’ve never even spoke to, and the rare times I’ve taken it into my head to do something about them have all been… ill-advised.
I’m getting a little sick of it. And I’m tired of writing angsty little entries in this blog! Oh, there are so many things I’m tired of. There is much I would like to change… but this is not easy. How do I become a person who does things? Who has expectations? Who believes in himself? It’s bloody difficult… and, to be honest, terrifying. The only real way is to just go ahead and pretend to be that person and hope I forget to be me long enough for it to work. But I am not very malleable.
This pretty much sums a lot of things up. Some things I know I need to do, and other people seem to handle them just fine, but no-one gave me the instructions….
Anyway, there are two girls I quite like at the moment. Not that anything’s ever going to happen with either– OK, yes, I know this sounds like just the sort of negative thinking that I need to shake off, but it’s also true. The first girl I know from work, so that would make the whole thing over a year long now. She’s a lovely girl but there’s no spark between us (in fact… I don’t think I’ve ever had a spark with anyone. In the land of sexual chemistry I’m probably Krypton: unreactive, rare, a bit geeky and reddish when energised). What more needs to be said except that I’m an idiot enough not to have moved on a long time ago? She knows I like her (a friend told her a few months back), so, no, nothing’s going to happen.
The other girl is… well, anyone reading this will probably know who she is. Again, about as much sign of something happening there as Pete making something with tofu for tomorrow’s meal. Trying to do anything would be embarrasing and almost suicidal. Nethertheless I have been meaning to do something for several weeks now, precisely because I’m fecking 27 now and I have to bloody do something otherwise I never will. Though as far as I’m aware none of the growingly ridiculous number of people who know have told her, it’s hard to imagine she doesn’t know. I am a simple soul, and not subtle. Apparently it’s bloody obvious.
So, yes, I am supposed to do something. Once more, with feeling.
Oh, and still no word from Norwich. Can’t think of anything else!
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