Just Another Fish

That’s right, I’ve gone all emo and spotty and moved to:

http://rosyatrandom.livejournal.com/

Your daily serving of Rosy can now be found there. Go. Go!

That’s what it all comes down to, in the end*. Not religious — I’m quite happy with my insane ideas there — but social.

There’s a famous existential book, The Unbearable Lightness of Being. I’ve never read it. The title has always resonated with me, though. For me, it captures the feeling that I’m floating through life, trapped in a bubble, passing on and along without ever being able to hold on to anything, or make any real connections with people. And, yes, it’s fairly damn unbearable.

This would be why I’ve always had hopeless long-distance crushes on girls. It’s a way of investing meaning and excitement to my life, which I otherwise find depressingly banal. I never talked to the girls or tried to make anything of it because I always (well, most of the time) knew it was all just in my head. A fantasy, and rarely anything to do with the girls themselves; I hardly ever knew them at all. Another symptom of the condition, that — not being able to make a real connection with them.

I’ve pretty much passed that phase now, or at least I have such a deep sense of irony and self-awareness that I can’t fool myself anymore. I simply can’t engage in ungrounded fantasy like I used to, and while this is clearly healthy it means that I have to actually face reality. This isn’t a good thing for someone who used fantasy as a means to escape from reality in the first place because they couldn’t cope with it. Or, it would be a good thing, except I still can’t cope with it.

I should just be happy with my life, with my friends, with my social life. But I’m not. Always, I feel restless and frustrated. Always looking for meaning and significance, a connection. I leave every social event disappointed and aware of the absurdity of both the disappointment and hopes that led to it. I think that a great deal of my life has been spent in a continuous, low-grade, panic attack. Certainly today.

Perhaps I could find a way to be happy and let things roll as they roll… but things do not roll. A closed-cycle, maybe, caused by not being happy. But I feel that life passes by, only touching me to erode.

This desperation to connect, well, it’s another way of explaining my behaviour. Everyone is so far away and I have to shout to get their attention (hello, randomness)… which gets tiring, so I become a commentator (hello, tactless cynic). Sometimes I feel like I’m making a connection and actually behave like a normal person (albeit a rather blundering, confused one)… but this never lasts long. Either the connection was a figment of my imagination, or it dissipates away before the conversation is over. I can’t hold on to it.

And I’m getting too old for this. I’ve seen everything before. Everyone is too young. I’m trapped between where I was and where I should be. The despair needs to be dealt with but I can feel it accelerating.

I have friends, good friends, but not many. And they can’t help me. All my old friends are no longer in my social scene, the one where I still try to fool myself into thinking something might happen. I really don’t know what to do. This… this blog… hasn’t/isn’t/isn’t going to helped/helping/help. I’m still trying to rely on other people to save me but I need to do it myself. Somehow.  

This angst has been brought to you by Rosy. He’s very sorry about it, and sorrier still that even as he types this he knows he’s not going to delete it.

* Well, in a sense. It’s just one way of looking at things; the thing about paradigms is that they can all capture and convey the same information but present it with completely different emphases. Which is why self-psychoanalysis is always doomed to end up in chasing your own tail — what seems a real and important truth today becomes just a trite facet tomorrow.

The most important MUGSS party of the year finally happened, and for once I attended. After not being able to come up with an idea for ages, and thinking I was more broke than I was and hence unable to buy anything, I was getting pretty worried. After all, I have a reputation to uphold here - I do fancy dress well!

Well, the day before I thought of a concept. And on the morning I realised I had at least a little bit of money to spend on it.

I went as a dog.

Woof.

Apparently I "outdid myself", so I think it worked.

The party itself was great, hosted by Sam & Charlotte in their nice city centre flat.There was the odd moment of debauchery — not involving me, of course — and a rather impressive display of costumes. Special mentions must go to Michael Sparks (very good) and Dan (oh my eyes). It’s a pity it ended at 2am, rather shocking for a MUGSS party but everyone just seemed to go home at ridiculously early hours. Fortunate in a way, though, as I’d drunk a 35cl bottle of rum (neat) plus some punch and finally began to feel drunk on the way home. By the time I got off the bus I was staggering, and after about 10 minutes of sleep I woke up, body a’trembling, and realised I was going to have to be somewhat sick. The only question was whether I could calm my distraught belly down enough to get to to the toilet first. (I was)

I’ve not got used to drinking spirits yet, I would say.

So, today I felt fine, though a little disoriented. Made a nice pork roast for myself, Pete & Sarah before catching the end of the Four In Hand pub quiz with them, Mahinda, Jenny and some randoms. We won.

Now… now, I want to talk about those icky little things I call feelings. Sorry. Not sure what I want to say, really, only that I feel the need to talk about them!

I have to question my motivation here. I suspect that I post/tell people stuff like this is that, by bringing it all into the world, something might happen. I’m obviously incapable of effecting change myself; other people, directly or not, at least can make something happen. Though they generally don’t….

Anyway, I’ve got to stop having what I think of as "spectator syndrome." I always feel like I’m on the fringe of social activity, not so much unable to take part but as if it’s not for me to do so. Perhaps that’s why when I’m being outgoing I’m so aggressively… random. Ah, I don’t know.

Really feeling the lack of a crush… or, here’s a new word I learnt today courtesy of Gillian K’s blog, limerance. I know that they aren’t healthy, but I feel so bored and frustrated without one. Life’s much more colourful, exciting and real when I have someone to think about.

Even though I’m pretty much over L, I still feel a certain… well, I suppose if I analyse it (I had been thinking about it as a sort of mental toothache), it’s a sad anger (at myself!) about it all. The worst thing is that we are both now clearly uncomfortable in each other’s presence (precisely one of the reasons I didn’t try to do anything in the end was to avoid this possibility, and well, so it goes). I would just like to clear it up… it should be so easy, and yet all we do is avoid each other’s eyes and company. For no good reason. To tell the truth, this does not make me a happy bunny. It is this sort of meaningless, absurd inaction and snafu that seems to define my life.

I still feel the urge to write more, and still don’t know what to say. I should go to bed, and instead I’m looking at this post and hoping the next thing I type will change my life.

So, I got sick of not being able to play my .ogg files in my Shuffle and decided to batch convert them all to low quality .mp3 copies.

So far it has taken 48 hours.

It is half-way through.

This tells me: I have a lot of .oggs. // They take a long time to convert. // My computer is diabolically slow.

powered by performancing firefox

So, in the early hours of this morning I was busy being asleep and dreaming:

I’m hanging around with a lad (the feel of the dream is that we’re teenagers or something) who’s not, I think, anyone I know IRL. I don’t know why I’m hanging round with him; I remember the definite vibe that he’s a complete bastard and I don’t like him, I’m there almost against my will and feel a bit threatened by him. We’re not the only two there: also present are two girls.

I’m not sure how if there was much to the dream before the bit that I remember, but we’re at the back of a garden. Whatever the boy’s planning, I don’t like it, but at this point his part in the dream ends and the interesting bit begins.

I think I accidentally knocked against one of the girls, and somehow this became a very brief, surprising kiss. Perhaps in shock at this I fall against the fence we’re standing next to, but the girl steps closer. Just as we’re about to touch there’s this amazing sensation of intimacy; hypersensitivity to her and her proximity like electricity, expectation and…

… well, there I’m going to have to leave off, not from modesty but because the bloody alarm clock went off.

Aargh. Aargh. Aargh. Aargh.

And I do know this girl, she’s on facebook, and no I’m not saying who she is! (Though I think you’d be surprised - I was….)

What’s to say? I have no desire to get any kind of medical help, but I wish I wasn’t so completely at the mercy of my moods.

Two things are certain: a 27 year-old should be over this kind of thing (or at least have it under control), and no-one wants to hear about it.

That’s not a plea, BTW. If there was someone I felt I could talk to, I would be talking to them. This at least is a way of pretending I’m doing so.

Fecking angst. Sick of it. Can’t even remember if I’ve felt normal recently, can’t get perspective. Not when I’m this bleak.

Could someone tell me when I was last normal?

I should go to bed.   

powered by performancing firefox

was fun. Despite lacking most of the set, an elephant, or blue paint, we managed to fit pretty much the whole thing in. For the 20 or 30 people who watched it….

I think I have managed to break a bone in my foot from jumping around like a loon before lunch.

Feel free to ignore this next bit.

Spent a lot of the day feeling quite fey. This seemed to annoy a few people but, being fey, this just made me worse. I think I came to realise that, for as long as I can remember, I’ve felt that nothing I do or feel matters. (Which, IIRC, is a perfect recipe for inducing schizophrenia or something similar.) Basically, any action towards accomplishing a goal (particularly social ones) will either simply fail or rebound in some possibly humorous way. One effect of this, of course, is that after a while the goals themselves seem absurd and pointless. This may go some way to explaining my attitudes and behaviour since… for ever.

Anyway, the feyness thing: I think occasionally my goals become simply to amuse myself, often at my own expense. This is, of course, rather bitter-sweet but that sort of melancholia is an emotion I rather cherish. So I get to feel in control, and pretend I’m witty and hilarious… and when it turns out I’m doing something quite the opposite, annoying the very people I’d rather not, well, all you can do is laugh. Kind of like realising you’re crashing anyway so you might as well build up some speed.

I actually find myself having a good time when I feel like this. Parts of me feel like laughing, crying, apologising… it’s all rather intense and emotional. At the same time I feel both very real and unreal.

And, of course, it’s all still rather frustratingly pointless which is why I write things like this the next day.

L A S T   P E R S O N …

1. You said I love you to?
Either my mum or sister, on the phone

2. Rode in a car with?
Mahinda, from the pub

3. Went to the movies with?
Simon & Jordan; Hot Fuzz

4. Went shopping with?
Err. If the supermarket counts, Pete. If not, I have not a clue

W O U L D   Y O U   R A T H E R …

1. Pierce your nose or tongue?
Nose

2. Be serious or be funny?
Funny

3. Drink whole or skim milk?:
Skimmed

4. Die in a fire or get shot?:
Shot

5. Spend time with your parents or enemies?
Parents

A N S W E R   T R U T H F U L L Y

1. Do you like anyone?
I can only assume this means like in the emphatic sense, else this is a quiz to see if you’re a sociopath. Anyway: no, with memories of yes that are like prodding a sore tooth

2. Sun or moon?
Sun

3. Winter or autumn?
Autumn

4. Left or right?
Right

5. 10 acquaintances or two best friends?
2 best friends

6. Sunny or rain?
Sunny

A B O U T   Y O U

1. Middle Name?
David

2. First Name?
Michael

3. Where do you want to live?
Here (Manchester)

4. How many kids do you want?
How many you got? Umm, 2, I suppose

5. Do you want to get married?
Don’t really care about marriage. Serious relationship, yes

6. Do you twirl your spaghetti or cut it?
More ’shovel’

7. Have you ever eaten spam?
Yes. It’s nice.

8. How many kinds of cereal are in your cabinet?
3

10. Do you cook?
Yup

11. Current mood?
Slightly down; shy and frustrated.

I N   T H E   L A S T   48   H O U R S   H A V E   Y O U …

1. Kissed some one?
No

2. Sang?
No

3. Been hugged?
No

4. Felt stupid?
Yes

5. Missed someone?
No

6. Danced Crazy?
Yes

8. Gotten your hair cut?
No

9. Cried?
No

10. Lied?
No

S T U F F

1. Have you ever been searched by the cops?
No

2. Do you have a Dog?
No

3. When’s the last time you’ve been sledding?
A while back

4. Would you rather sleep near someone else, or sleep alone?
Alone… possibly. Dunno. I’ll be able to answer more authoritatively after I’v slept near someone…

5. Do you believe in ghosts?
I’d like to

So, the Council Tax people have realised I haven’t paid any for 18 months, and I now owe them £930.

This could be… awkward….

I’ve got word back from Durham: apparently I am their reserve choice (and apparently the preferred applicant turns the offer down more often than you’d think).

I knew I should have arranged to go on a date when I wouldn’t have been so shattered….

But, yes, I’m feeling rather ambivalent about the whole thing. Intellectually, I want to do a PhD. Socially, I would love to stay in Manchester. And financially, of course, I’d like to have money. (Um, would that be amtrivalent, then?)

The 3rd aspect is leading me to considering seriously something that I previously rejected outright: actuarial work. Michael Hall has been making frequent suggestions on the banter list that someone should join his company, and a part of me is definitely thinking that if I can’t go for what I want academically I should just go for the money and use it to fulfil myself in whatever ways money lets you.

Of course, that would involve moving to Croyden….

Oh, and here’s some poker stats for you all to enjoy! (Or… not)