(no subject)
I’m annoyed because I would have quite liked to be alright at this point, but for some reason there seems to have been a slight regression and I’m trying to work out what it is. I didn’t want to be at Alex’s today, with Ander overexcited and hyperactive and full of too-milky chocolate (my chocolate snobbery has only been increased by Coco in Edinburgh, amazing brownies and hot chocolate).
I didn’t really want to have to see my family assess me for child-friendliness once again, because it’s a misunderstanding. I would be happier there if it didn’t feel like Sam was providing an example of ‘this is how to be all entertaining for children’. Perhaps the annoyance was fuelled by the fact I was on an overnight coach from Edinburgh last night and therefore just shattered. There’s something really weird about arriving in London really early in the morning- the silence, the early morning commuters either zombies or wired and robotic on caffeine, the tourists bleary-eyed in backpacks. I felt a little like a policeman undercover, as a resident but also scruffy and backpacked, with all my belongings within rummaging distance, water bottle, remnants of sandwiches, dazed expression. The difference being that I live here sometimes, though I probably appreciate it much less. I’m stuck between marvelling at the beauty of some of the buildings and scoffing at how fucking grandiose it can be. It only seems right to be humbled by things that deserve to be superior- but maybe I attach too much romanticism to craggy mountains and oceans and their natural formidable form- that wanky assumption that if nature has a persona it is less arrogant than structures constructed by people. Why would a cathedral be snooty and a mountain genteel, necessarily? Perhaps I have personal associations with Big Important buildings that are more negative than for example, the romanticism of the sea- because the latter is unpredictable and imperfect and therefore less threatening as opposed to regimented, polished and therefore judgemental. God, I do go on.
I felt like a bit of a fool up at the castle in Edinburgh, incidentally- shallow wheezing that I thought I had beaten- but clearly I still haven’t extinguished that fear of heights. Arse.
I’ve been given a white chocolate and raspberry egg that I really really don’t want, and I don’t know who to give it to. Everyone I know hates white chocolate, except Tins, and she hates raspberries. Such is fate. I don’t even know why we still do this- it’s weird to have had that lull between when I became a bit too old for all this and the sudden indulgence of everything when the babies were born- although that is a slight bend of the truth. My mother could never resist an excuse to have chocolate in the house.
I’m unhappy and I want to get back to where I was. I’m premenstrual and therefore comparative and introspective. I’m sick of having to actively sit down and identify what brings me joy and allocating set time to do that- because it means I can’t be happy without ritual and that means that I can’t be as comfortable being spontaneous as I would have liked to be. I feel utterly useless and I feel like I’m wasting my time, but the slow lessons I’m learning at university (the social bootcamp, not the academic factory) spur me to at least finish my degree. I don’t know where this idea came from that you’re fucked if you haven’t got your teeth into a future prospect by the time you’re 20, but for some reason I’m angry at myself for not excelling in anything in particular yet. I’m impatient, suddenly, and I’m angry that I feel like that when I was just getting used to going at my own pace. I’d really like to do that massage training after university and get really good at that but because I’ve been doing arts for so long it feels like it’s not really enough- like I’ll crave all that creative witty exchange stuff, all that playing with words to make them interesting or the caricature of people. All my friends are vibrant and supremely talented and I feel a bit simple. I like working creatively with people and I’m scared that doing something that largely involves silence will fog up that area of my brain. I don’t really know what I’m doing, and I’m worried that I’m losing touch with my friends when there are few in the first place. I don’t feel very funny or interesting or attractive or purposeful and it’s got me down today. That’s all.
I didn’t really want to have to see my family assess me for child-friendliness once again, because it’s a misunderstanding. I would be happier there if it didn’t feel like Sam was providing an example of ‘this is how to be all entertaining for children’. Perhaps the annoyance was fuelled by the fact I was on an overnight coach from Edinburgh last night and therefore just shattered. There’s something really weird about arriving in London really early in the morning- the silence, the early morning commuters either zombies or wired and robotic on caffeine, the tourists bleary-eyed in backpacks. I felt a little like a policeman undercover, as a resident but also scruffy and backpacked, with all my belongings within rummaging distance, water bottle, remnants of sandwiches, dazed expression. The difference being that I live here sometimes, though I probably appreciate it much less. I’m stuck between marvelling at the beauty of some of the buildings and scoffing at how fucking grandiose it can be. It only seems right to be humbled by things that deserve to be superior- but maybe I attach too much romanticism to craggy mountains and oceans and their natural formidable form- that wanky assumption that if nature has a persona it is less arrogant than structures constructed by people. Why would a cathedral be snooty and a mountain genteel, necessarily? Perhaps I have personal associations with Big Important buildings that are more negative than for example, the romanticism of the sea- because the latter is unpredictable and imperfect and therefore less threatening as opposed to regimented, polished and therefore judgemental. God, I do go on.
I felt like a bit of a fool up at the castle in Edinburgh, incidentally- shallow wheezing that I thought I had beaten- but clearly I still haven’t extinguished that fear of heights. Arse.
I’ve been given a white chocolate and raspberry egg that I really really don’t want, and I don’t know who to give it to. Everyone I know hates white chocolate, except Tins, and she hates raspberries. Such is fate. I don’t even know why we still do this- it’s weird to have had that lull between when I became a bit too old for all this and the sudden indulgence of everything when the babies were born- although that is a slight bend of the truth. My mother could never resist an excuse to have chocolate in the house.
I’m unhappy and I want to get back to where I was. I’m premenstrual and therefore comparative and introspective. I’m sick of having to actively sit down and identify what brings me joy and allocating set time to do that- because it means I can’t be happy without ritual and that means that I can’t be as comfortable being spontaneous as I would have liked to be. I feel utterly useless and I feel like I’m wasting my time, but the slow lessons I’m learning at university (the social bootcamp, not the academic factory) spur me to at least finish my degree. I don’t know where this idea came from that you’re fucked if you haven’t got your teeth into a future prospect by the time you’re 20, but for some reason I’m angry at myself for not excelling in anything in particular yet. I’m impatient, suddenly, and I’m angry that I feel like that when I was just getting used to going at my own pace. I’d really like to do that massage training after university and get really good at that but because I’ve been doing arts for so long it feels like it’s not really enough- like I’ll crave all that creative witty exchange stuff, all that playing with words to make them interesting or the caricature of people. All my friends are vibrant and supremely talented and I feel a bit simple. I like working creatively with people and I’m scared that doing something that largely involves silence will fog up that area of my brain. I don’t really know what I’m doing, and I’m worried that I’m losing touch with my friends when there are few in the first place. I don’t feel very funny or interesting or attractive or purposeful and it’s got me down today. That’s all.