the big dump

This is my 'Sliding Doors' moment; with my freshly reinstated full front fringe, I am blond Gwyneth Paltrow. In an alternative universe, I would, at this moment, have been fifteen minutes into my first 'date', with someone I met through this online dating business.  Except, and in the fashion that only I seem to be able to achieve, I managed to talk myself out of a coffee date, and remove myself from a potential suitors sea of female fish friends. Fuuuuucck.

I don't know what happened...

That's not true - it was me, all me.  I over-thought things, and then tried to make them 'better' - but what I ended up doing was making things confusing.

We'd been chatting via email for a week or so, when he asked if I'd like to grab a coffee.  I put it off for that week, and so, when the chatting recommenced, as the previous decliner, I thought it was my duty to do the asking this time.  It was affirmative, it was set - he had no idea what I look like, but that was a minor detail. Until it wasn't.

Maybe I was testing... does it bother you to not know what I look like? It was neither 'yay' or 'nay', but it was suggested we might exchange pictures, so - we swapped numbers.  He said he would text... and he didn't.  And I waited.  The sun set and rose once again, and I still hadn't heard from him. And with all this extra thinking time I had, I thought about the way I had presented myself.  I thought about the expectations a dude might come to have of me - and I freaked.  So, I went and altered my profile - to reflect more of the truth - that I didn't know what I want, that anything started would have to be in the view of friendship initially. And then, I broke the bitter silence and sent him a text.  I explained that I couldn't promise anything, that I needed to start with friends - and that if he still wanted to meet, then great - but if he didn't, then ok.

Seemingly, there is nothing less attractive to a man than a woman who:
a) doesn't know what she wants, and
b) possibly will make you wait a very long time before you get to sleep with her.
Well done me, for meeting both sets of criteria with one ugly action.

Suddenly the dude's status had changed from "looking to date, but nothing serious" to "looking for someone special".  And they say women are confusing. Now that I had made my intentions clearer, his life had quickly become void of any time for himself, and our 'date' was 'on hold'.

I don't harbor any bad feelings.  Actually I feel a bit shit about the whole thing.  I don't know whether I made myself seem like too much hard work, or maybe he Facebook stalked me, and decided I was too fat/ugly/old to liaise with any longer.  All I know is that I just have this horrible taste of disappointment in my mouth, rounded off by the gritty sensation of self sabotage.

Perhaps I'll come to laugh about the whole saga very soon.  But, right now all I want to do is sob loudly, while watching the following:

After the mornings dumping, my ipod delivered another well timed, musical message.  And I realised that if Sarah Blasko felt like this too, then maybe it's ok for me.  This is exactly how I feel.

breaking up with Facebook

Dear Facebook,

We've been dancing around this issue for a while, but I finally have the courage to say.... it's over between us.  I just don't like you anymore.  Truth be told, I'm not sure I ever really did.

Yes, to start with you made me feel more included, more connected - you used to be fun.  Pictures of people I hadn't seen in years were enlightening, inspiring even. Travels could be tracked, virtual catch-ups were heartwarming, and even the stalking came in handy... once in a while.

But then, it became about numbers.. how many 'friends' did I have, who requested me, who didn't?
Who dumped me as their 'friend'?
Who wished me happy birthday this year?
Who 'liked' my photo?
Who commented? What did they say? What did they really mean?
Who is that?!
Who cares?

With so many 'whos' I've been asking myself why. All you do is bring self doubt and frustration to my fingertips.  For every legitimate good thing you've given me, I've scrolled through dozens, and dozens of bullshit posts, adverts and 'selfies' oh, how I hate the selfies.

And then there's the way you crept into my conversations.  Something innocent I had learnt on Facebook, would escape my consciousness and in answer to "where did you hear that?" I had to confess: I saw it on Facebook. Urrrgh I feel dirty.

You kept gnawing at my time; anytime I sat idle for long enough to reach for my phone, all I had to do was tap that little blue icon - for that 'just in case' look.  I couldn't help it, I'd become dependent on knowing everything, anything.  It has become a sickness, the desire to know things that I don't really need to know - I'd become torn between acceptance and freedom.

For I'm sure that all the 'good' reasons Facebook started, have now long since faded away.  Now we're all right back where we never wanted to be - high school.  All the cool kids who still don't want to be your 'friend', watching assholes continue to be assholes via their pictures, bullies with endless rants, and the bad spelling - so much bad spelling.

You are an enabler Facebook - you have allowed every wank-fest, whinge-fest, aren't I so funny/clever/ironic/hot/sad/happy-fest to go on, and on, and on.  And I won't take any more of it. You are a terrible 'friend' Facebook. And don't think I don't know you're using my likes and preferences as a way to shove more marketing and rubbish down my throat!

Now you see, I just don't care. I've always had one foot out of the 'normal' world anyway, the way I see it I may as well step through and get comfortable where I'm standing.

As 2013 rapidly draws to a close, a year which has been choc-full of rubbish - I'm finally cleaning up.  I'm simplifying my existence.  Who knows how long it will last?  When that first pang of guilt or fear hits, will I be tempted to rejoin the masses?  Whatever happens, just know Facebook - that in this dysfunctional relationship, it's not me, it is most definitely you.

that funny old feeling..

It's back, that anticipating scratch without an itch, the thick fog of thoughts and fears, maybes and should haves.  It's time... to go back to work.

Silly really, at the start of the two weeks everything looks so bright and shiny, waiting to be smudged with your fingerprint - and the best news is that you can, you can do anything, be anything, because you have the time.  Time has almost run out, and the mood overcoming me now is definitely the least optimistic of the two.

It's hard to put my finger on it really, but it's the ultimate 'out of body experience' - my body is here, my arms, my legs within my control - oh look! I'm driving... how did I get here again.. but my mind, boy, I don't know where that is. I can't reign it in, can't even hook a single thought, it's all blur and shit.

I found a couple of potential jobs for applying, but discounted one just this night - on the basis of a Facebook stalk... well, partly.  Yes, I do believe I am crazy.

I just want out.  I want out, out, OUT!

"Close some doors - not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance but simply because they no longer lead somewhere."  Paolo Coehlo

I want to slam that door closed, screw it shut, hang out the front for a while and tell everyone who passes by not to go through it.  Then I'll climb out the nearest window.  I'm just so fucking miserable at this job.

I've been reading a little more than usual lately.  Don Miguel Ruiz's "The Four Agreements", gives me four 'rules' to live by:
1) Be impeccable with your word.
2) Don't take anything personally.
3) Don't make assumptions.
4) Always do your best.
They certainly make sense, and I have been trying to keep them in mind.  But I know come next week, a few of them are going to be challenging.  At my current job, I have lost the desire to do my best, to try hard, because I just can't see the point.  I hate that I feel this way. I abhor the reality that I'm not performing 100%.

I also started reading a blogger, turned published author's book on her anxious existence. Turns out it's actually less funny, more anxiety-inducing/alarming for me.  *shrugs ironically*

I had a dream last night, I had an amazing idea for a blog post, I even had a clever name for the post, and anecdote to deliver it - I got the pad and pen beside my bed and wrote it down.  I was rather perturbed later this morning, when I realised I'd woken up and written this great idea down while still dreaming.

Perhaps this idea was driven by my guilt of not having written in a while, my insecurities about having nothing to say, being unable to find the right words.  Or, it might also be to do with seeing this in a local shop earlier this week:

I want the mug, but know I'd also kind of feel like a fraud using it. A potential pen cup perhaps?

the things I didn't know

the amazing source

When I look at this picture I feel less alone. Maybe because it looks something like hope.

I had been doing fine in life. I had been getting along as best I could. Then I went and did something stupid like go wandering in the facebook woods alone, unprepared for what I would stumble upon.  I stalked John and found something surprising and confusing.

His profile had disappeared for a while - it's not like I did a weekly check or anything, but last time I did, he wasn't there.  Last night however - he was back.  He has a new relationship - which he actually declared on his page - she is a perfectly ordinary looking woman - with a baby.  There were photos of him and her (with the little him) plastered all over, and all I could think was that he looked happy - really, honestly happy.  It seems like finally he has the instant family he said he always wanted. I'm not sure why it shook me so much - but I was left reeling.  One moment I'm finishing a late night cup of tea, and the next I'm discovering things that required much more emotional intelligence than I was able to muster on a Sunday evening.  What the hell happened while I was drinking my cup of tea?

I'm not sure why I've reacted this way.  Perhaps I'm jealous, or disappointed that it wasn't me who put that joyful twinkle back in his eye. Or maybe it's just that I wish I had the pictures to prove I'd moved forward. Truthfully - she looks like the kind of girl I would get along with, be friends with even. Further truths be known, I'm almost relieved to find he's no longer with the other one - the bad apple.

Anyway, I guess these are just the kind of flips and dives that life takes, even when you think it's moving predictably straight. It's a reminder, not to be complacent.

violently declaim Friday

Thing that pains me deep inside:
When I read (yet another) Facebook status from that annoying 'friend' in which she likes to be vague about a situation or individual, or some deeply personal event that only really important people are privy to.  Tonight some blah, blah... "Thank you to that special person who just knows how to fix everything.  You are so special to me, you know who you are."  Hey, hows about you fuck off and tell the person you are actually talking about, that you appreciate them, and spare the rest of us from having to experience your visual spew! Blurgh!

Some people are just so, underwhelming, and stupid.

Rant end.

tonight, tonight with the haters

I just read something on facebook that infuriated me. Written in comment on a status update, one of my recently ex-coworkers wrote a note of congratulations to a mutual 'friend' on her "escaping" my hometown. Little fucker.

I'll be the first to acknowledge this town has its limitations, but it did support that ex-coworker with employment, sealed roads, fresh air, beer and amenities for the past 18 months. That entitled, arrogant hipster snot, with his Ray Bans and Converse sneakers can shove his witless little digs up his skinny jeans wearing ass. What a punk.

ROOOOAAARRRRR!

WTF?

"Young children who learn how to read and write using Facebook may have an edge over their peers later in life, according to a prominent Australian linguist."

Ummmm, are you fucking kidding me?! Yeah - maybe if you want your kids to turn into illiterate little wankers who cannot construct a thoughtful sentence.. or any sentence at all.

God, there's some real shit out there. Worst of all that 'prominent Australian linguist' probably got paid to 'study' that crap.

{Insert wild-man scream}

SB

Tangle

Apparently I'm 'normal' in all the ways that can be measured. And in all the ways that can't be..well who's to know?

I went to the doctor today for the results of all my tests - no explanation for my bodily freak out two weeks ago; oh well, I have chemical, molecular, freakin' GP certification that I am O. K. So why don't I feel it?

I had another run in with e-vil facebook. John was on just now, adding photos, doing general John things. I made myself 'active' to chat, thinking maybe, just maybe he might say hello. Nope. Seemingly that is expecting too much. He writes me a random email, like three weeks ago, he never responds to my response - dammit, sometimes I just want to cry for the futility of it all. This stupid waiting game.

You know, John is one of those men who five minutes before dinner, tells his wife he's going out for a pack of smokes and never returns. Stupid ass. Him, and me.

My unhappiness used to be relatively uncomplicated, now it's just littered with stupid man stuff.

"don't even try, still get the guy"
"let men chase you"
"engage the apricot"

Excuse me Zoe Foster, but I think you're just a little bit full of shit. This advice coming from the woman who hooked the co-author (i.e Hamish Blake) of this stupid book that I paid actual money for. Please note hazard #32 of online shopping for seriously insecure and desperate females bearing credit cards. Be an apricot - what the fuck does that even mean Zoe Foster?! Lets be honest here, I want to say I'm the apple high up on the tree, but actually I think I'm that mushy one that rolled onto the ground last season, that no one can be assed picking up. That's my fruit metaphor.

The book should've been cheaper - that's all I'm sayin'...

Boy, am I in a rotten mood. It's not genetics's fault, it's not facebook's fault, it's not John's or even Zoe Foster's fault, really. It's just the life and times of a Monday evening in the life of me.

Worse things happen at sea, right, at least that's what the oldies tell me.

SB xx

scream queen

I just want to scream, have somebody hear me and tell me that they understand. And I want that somebody to be you.

I checked facebook, I knew it was a bad idea the moment I started typing your name, but I did it anyway. Stupid, stupid idiot.

There she was again, a post from three hours ago - she included you in her evasive status update. Obviously she's one of those people who likes to lodge every bowel movement on facebook. He sees her every time he goes back 'home'; it has to mean something.

I want to squeeze tears from my eyes because I think, maybe it'll make me feel better - but I can't bring myself to do it. Because there's nothing left to cry? Because there was nothing tangible lost - just time and my heart...and maybe my mind.

I don't know this girl, but I know I already hate her. From her fake 'I'm a down to earth chick, really' information crap, to her pouty and suggestive profile pictures. I hate her name - spelt with two 'r's when one would suffice, but more than that, I hate myself - I hate myself for not being the one he wants - because obviously I need to be all of these things, and I can't be, because I am me. Just lonely, awkward, repulsive me.

Clearly, cocktail's do wonders for my mood.

SB xx

the science of things

Good things are worth waiting for.
Great things are worth suffering for.

This comes from a facebook status of all things (I know, spew) so I can't claim it as my own. I'd like to think it's true though. Might come to be a comforting thought someday.

SB xx

the way it is

I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world, there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre and flawed in the same ways I do. I would imagine her, and imagine that she must be out there thinking of me too. Well, I hope that if you are out there and read this and know that, yes, it's true I'm here, and I'm just as strange as you.

- Frida Kahlo

This quote breaks my heart - because it reminds me that I am calling out to someone who probably isn't there. I suppose this blog is my way of echoing Frida's words. Strangely, I know little about this woman - yet we are akin.  I too feel strange and flawed - an error yet to be discovered. These posts are my ink in the tattoo of time - except sometimes I wonder, if I'm not brave enough to own up to these feelings, beyond the keyboard, beyond the screen - what will become of me?

I am so, so lonely tonight.  There is no tune in my vast collection to set this feeling to. I search - Feist, Megan Washington, Laura Marling, Alanis Morissette - Christ no, Fleetwood, Gotye, Beyonce.  No, no, no, no.

I wanted to test myself tonight, thought I could handle a dose of reality - some distant facebook research.  Turns out, not so harmless. Turns out, I'm not so ready. Fucking facebook.

Best be off to read some self-help book; or rather somebody-else-help-me-because-I-can't-help-myself, book.

SB xx

nose meets grindstone

It was my first day back at work today, after five weeks of leave. Suffice to say, it was horrid. I felt like a child, facing a new year of school.  I felt like this:

I had a particularly rough night last night.  And by rough, I mean emotionally charged. It was everything and nothing - the real and the imagined that started it all - and once the ball got rolling, oh was it messy.  I'm still feeling very delicate.  I think without the distraction of an impending adventure, my mind allowed itself to sink back to reality - the John stuff settled... and, it didn't really help that I tried to check out things via that e-vil facebook... I remembered that I'm unhappy at my workplace, I'm actually pretty unhappy with my life.  I tried to write it down, in the hope that it would help - I'm not going to post it, because it's too messy, nonsensical and kind of verging on the suicidal.  Eeek. I scared myself a little.  I think it's hormones gone wild. I hope that's all it is.

I went through a really terrible period when I hit high school.  I never had an issue with the work, it was the kids, the change, the new system; then, I started to get teased, by one really persistent kid.  It got so bad - I cried myself into submission every week day and night, making myself physically sick because of it all.  At the time we had these really close family friends, who we would pretty much do something with every weekend - and it was those limited weekend hours that got me through each week.  It was only in the company of this family, that I felt truly safe - protected.  Last night I got a taste of that ill-worry again, and it was frightening.  Except now, I don't really have a distraction.

So, today I put on a pair of my big hoop earrings (because I always feel more powerful when wearing hoops) and I found the biggest, blood-red hair flower I have in my arsenal of hair accessories - and I crowned myself with it.  I needed more than hoops and flower-power... but these things always help, a little.

I wanted to look like this:

To save myself from this:

And this:

So, I survived day one. I'm not sure I have a big enough flower to see me through the rest of the week. I guess time will tell. Right now I just know I am so grateful to be home.

SB xx

about face

Facebook shits me to tears! Sometimes I wonder why I am even on there - and then I remember the power of the Facebook stalk, and it keeps me hooked. BUT, my utilisation of this electronic popularity contest is beside the point.  My point is, Facebook enables stupid people - and while I'm all for equal rights - however, stupidity, the kind that you see on Facebook is highly offensive!

I've come up with some simple rules and guidelines, that I wish the world would take note of.

1) There shall be no abbreviations - ever. No LOL, OMG, OMFG, TGIF, CU.  I abhor these, and will have none of it. If it is a thought worth declaring publicly, then write it out in full form.

2) Thou shall learn the difference between there/their/they're and use these accordingly.  It's really not that difficult.

3) Learn to spell - for God's sake.  It frightens me that everyone under the age of say 22, are seemingly illiterate.  These people will be in charge of important shit someday.

4) We all know that the Facebook 'friend' is a term that is used very loosely - however don't be one of these people that request or accept someone, only to dump them months down the road. It's rude, plus it kind of sucks balls for the person who is being dumped. So, 'accept' wisely y'all.

I just need to believe that there is some intelligence and good taste left in the world.

SB xx

Those (other) three little words

I've been communicating with John pretty regularly lately - emails back and forth between us, when we each have the time. I try to be funny and casual, with just a hint of innuendo -a type of literary wink. My friend M, the only one I ever confided in about my feelings for John told me once that men were a bit thick with 'things like these' and that I would have to help John reach a certain understanding. I never really kicked that habit.
I suppose this is because I hold hope that someday it'll all click for him - like a jigsaw completed....slapping palm to forehead, exclaiming "oh THAT's what she meant!?"

We talk about work a fair bit - he's actually been pretty lovely - offering advice and being that understanding ear I don't have elsewhere. He could simply say, don't stress - it'll get better and leave it at that; but what he does is offer strategies. I don't know his motives; I don't know why he opted to message a heap of his facebook friends telling them about the bosses job and encouraging them to look into it - I don't know why he included me in this message. I don't know why he cares to expend energy, thinking about the place he has left behind and trying to influence it from afar. Is he simply trying to help me? Or is he keeping the seat, steady and warm for his someday return - midday soap opera style?

I sent a brief, partly amusing facebook message to him last night, responding to one of his questions. Checking my mail today, I found a reply; a reply which begins with "haha! I miss you StrangeBird..". I miss you? I miss you like a friend? I miss your humour? I miss you like there's no one here like you? I miss you like I miss my dead childhood dog sometimes? I miss you like I am not whole without you?

When I read it I didn't know what to think - I left the computer and found a distraction. I returned some three hours later - logged in - stared at the message for minutes - pondered a response for many minutes more. How could I respond to this? It's the first direct emotional statement he's ever attached to me. He wrote it around midnight - was he delirious or drunk? Did he mean it in the way I wanted him to?

It took me a long time to answer. It was time to take my heart out of my pocket, dust it off and rest it on my sleeve a while. A simple reply:

I miss you too John..

Click.

SB xx

Choosing the parrot or the poo

Lessons in extremes tonight: a reminder of important things I already knew, but that I forgot for a while; and then a lesson in the very important things I know, but that I choose to neglect. Bad, bad bird.

I was doing so well, and now I just want to be swallowed into the ground. I did a very silly thing. I relented on my John contact ban. In a moment of weakness, nay, idiocy I posted a ridiculous YouTube clip on his facebook wall. His very public facebook wall... An effing Seinfeld clip of all things. He hates Seinfeld. What the fuck StrangeBird? I am embarrassed for my alter ego; or is that the other way around?! Jesus.

It gets worse, I go the whole hog when I go for personal shame. Not enough that I go the public post, a lame post at that. No, I have to extend the misery...returning three hours later to the scene of the crime to find not a comment, not a pity like; nada-zip-zilch. It shouldn't be a big deal, but it is - because in my mind, he was supposed to see the post, get a laugh, remember how much he missed hearing from me and write back. If I wasn't so occupied being angry at myself for being weak and pathetic, I'd be angry at him for being a stupid, stupid man. I have such a flair for self torture, it's almost an art.

After what we shall from this moment on, call 'The Seinfeld Incident', I took myself to a presentation on 'Sparkling with Confidence - for women'. Some fucking sparkling specimen of a woman I make. Recently I realised I had lost contact with my 'internal' self, and I began to find myself drowning in a sea of my own thoughts. I've been floundering. The talk was interesting and served as a reminder not to let that naughty voice in my head rule me. I think that naughty voice tricked me tonight. Not only did I do something dumb, I also broke a promise to myself, which is the worst betrayal. I know I'll recover...but.

The presenter told a story tonight, about her experience at being at a meditation camp. Every day she would meditate outside, she loved to listen to the tweeting birds - she noticed early on, a lovely sounding parrot, but determined to keep on track she avoided searching for the source of the noise.  Everyday the thought of this parrot brought her joy, until the sixth day when she realised it wasn't a parrot at all - but rather a squeaking toilet door.  She was initially upset with herself for mistaking a toilet door for an exotic bird - the 'parrot' had delivered her joy, but now what she had was the memory of a toilet.  It was at that point she stated that we have a choice in every situation - to choose the parrot, or the poo.  For me, tonight was a steaming Seinfeld shaped poo, tomorrow I will hopefully find a parrot to focus on.

SB xx

Anything you can like, I can like better

I'm in the midst of a very intense love-hate relationship with facebook. I love that it allows me to peek into other peoples lives, but I generally hate what I find, when I'm looking. I also hate, that facebook has become this whole 'highschool' playground, where people manipulate information - about themselves and others, to create a 'mask' of what they want to present to the world. It's not true...the photos are posed and pouty; status updates are usually poorly executed examples of people trying to verbalise thoughts beyond their mental capacity. It used to be good...now, it's evil.

It's not often I glance at Johns page, sometimes I just like to know if he's made any changes, put on any photos (changed a certain relationship status...even though he's not one to 'wear his heart on his face' so-to-speak). Usually my visits to his page end in an emotional eating binge, because I have witnessed some tarts attempt at being cute; more irritating is when he responds. When he puts up photos, like he did today, sometimes I want to comment - but I usually don't. There's been a terribly attractive, but equally obnoxious hoe-bag hanging around his page for a while now and it drives me crazy when I see things like her comments on his pictures. Like this little jem "EPIC jealousy" written on one of his landscape pictures. What the fuck does that even mean? Go back to the 90's, when you were probably born and find out the way 'epic' is supposed to be used. Dumb. Ass. She 'likes' things here and there - I don't 'like' lightly on facebook, but when I saw a beautiful photo John had posted I 'liked' it, even though she had bet me to it, and commented. I pondered for 30 minutes or so, after stuffing my face with Easter chocolate. Fuck it, I thought, I'm going to comment too. So I did. See, it's a sickness.

Worse still, facebook has bridged generational gaps. I can scarcely attend a family function, without someone talking about facebook. Just today, my 73 year old Nanna asked me if I would be putting a photo of her cookies on my facebook page?! It's disturbing to reveal a piece of news and have to admit that I found out on facebook. No Mum, it is not appropriate for us to talk about who wished me happy birthday on facebook. God, when did life get so complicated and fraught with awkward?

Most of all, I hate that I can get worked up about this stuff; that it can consume mental energies and dominate conversations. It should have been called IN YOUR FACEbook. It's like a bad accident scene, where you know you should look away, but you can't bring yourself to do so.

SB xx

hook, line and sink-her

I'm so emotionally lame, it's disgusting. I hang on every word that boy bestows. Why? Is he magical, evil, possessed, criminally cruel? He has so many female friends, and they all adore him - how does he get to be that way, and why are there so many girls who feel that way about a seemingly ordinary boy? Does he play us all? Does he know what he creates?  I am undecided.

I know that when I sat down to attend to my work emails - seeing one from him - excited me like nothing else. Double clicked in a flash, no looking back - I wasted 45 minutes pondering and replying.. and all day I hung for a reply, to my reply. He remembered my birthday. Over the weekend, I felt sick at the thought that I didn't matter enough for him to wish me happy birthday on facebook. I am such a joke.  Amongst a short email on my birthday-day, he followed up with some funny birthday pictures today; one being:

Does it matter where you find a laugh, or the skip of a heart beat - just as long as it feels real? I suspect the only thing at risk of harm, is me. Uh oh.

SB xx

It's my (metaphorical) party, and I'll cry if I want to

Happy birthday to me! Today marks my 28th year of existence... Ouch, that number is getting big.

I don't really have a lot to say about today. It was a nice day...except for when I was out to lunch with my family and my Mum started complaining of a nasty smell, and my sister cursed the piano player and my nephew was making weird noises that made him seem 'simple' - it was at that point, the room seemed to get a whole lot smaller and I felt like I was in a petri dish of awkward.

The gifts were top notch; nil complaints there. There still seems to be something missing. It could be the nasty taste that facebook bullshit leaves in your mouth. Why didn't they wish me happy birthday - what does it mean; how should I respond; why; I KNOW they are on here. Or, it could've been the phone call from the tight arse friend who currently resides in the UK...you know, the one that effectively left me high and dry on what was supposed to be our joint planned trip to Italy. It was a nice gesture that she called, and honestly, I haven't been a very good friend of late - but even from thousands of kilometres away, she managed to sucker-punch me like the good old days. When talking about my travel sickness issues, she mentioned a friend who is seeking treatment for her "anxiety issues" that stop her from travelling. I thought, 'dude, you know it's my birthday right - you're supposed to be nice to people on the day of their birthday'...and then I just moved to 'bitch, anxiety was never the problem - you brought your fucking airline ticket WITHOUT ME'. Is it me? Am I queer?

Another fail, nothing from John. Not. A. Thing. You would think I'd had my fill of disappointments where he is concerned..seemingly not. Apparently I have a flair for self-torture.

Life's great at 28, life's great at 28, life's great at 28, life's great at 28, life's great at 28...

SB xx

99 problems

This past week has felt like an eternity (well, almost). After Monday, I was ready for it to be Thursday.

I am pleased to announce I did not sprout a second head, or any parasitic organisms, after using the lucky-dip cream on my face.  I guess you'd say that's a win.

My job interview went well (I think)... although I went through my answers way too quick.  Days after the interview, I started to question whether I even wanted the job anymore. I found some old documents shelved away - snapshots of a time when my position was different, and when it was morphing into the mess it is now.  Do I really want to sign on for that?  Am I strong enough to try and change it?  There are some days, when I think the answer to both questions is 'yes'.. but then, there are other days - when I just want to tell the lot of them to get fucked.  Today was one of those days.

It's difficult working in a place, where I am so stunted.  Most of us non-university educated, self identified plebs accept our place in the world, we get that we don't make as much money, we've made different choices, we are simply less important.  However, just like the I can poke fun of my family but you can't universal rule - it doesn't make it ok for outsiders to share these opinions; to infer these beliefs about me. On my drive home, I started to think about the changing attitudes around me.. about the hollow words that come out of my bosses mouth from time to time, token gifts about how amazing us support staff are - like I'm supposed to be grateful for that.  It made me sick - when will people learn: actions speak louder than words.  Actions scream.  Give me the quiet, gentle, behind-the-scenes creature over the showy shithead who achieves nothing - any day. Any. Day.

During the week, my highly expensive, almost brand new apple item died - this was a tense point in the week. I about cried myself to sleep the night it happened, purely because it was another thing added to my list of 'things I had to figure out'.

Some of the old patients I encountered at work this week were asking after John - they missed him.  I flitted between missing him and loathing him much of the week.  Still disappointed about the non-ending; torn between wanting to be reminded of him and wishing to forget he existed - everywhere I looked, were more tokens of John; everyone wanted to reminisce - I just wanted to erase.  Seeing his updates on facebook served as more reminders.  Like watching the part of a horror movie you know is going to damage you, but yet not wanting to look away for fear of missing something life-altering... I can't help but read the things I know will only upset me.

And, to top it off - possibly most devastating of all - it looks like I'm losing my hairdresser!  What a week.

SB xx

like a moth to a flame

I just can't help but hurt myself. It doesn't matter how many pep-talks I give myself; the logical arguments and facts of reality reviewed, I am drawn to terrible John.

I made the fatal mistake of looking at his facebook page recently, to see numerous gorgeous women messaging him and one recent post of a tarty girl being suggestive and asking him things only she'd know if she was in recent contact with him. At that moment I hated him, and I hated myself even more. Even now, devoting yet more blog time to him makes me want to poke my own eyes out with a nearby pen.

I figure that there are two possible explanations for my general state:
1) he is crazy and internally conflicted, fleeting from kind country boy to man-about-town player in the blink of an eye... or
2) I am crazy, and he is just normal

There's nothing consistent about him - he is a complete enigma. And my compulsive attraction to men who pay me zero attention is also enigmatic in a sad and pathetic sort of way. Enough...

Christmas is nearing, and I still haven't found my spirit. My spirit got lost and now something is missing...

One exciting thing did happen recently. I went to see my ultimate band U2, in concert. They were amazing. Surrounded by 55,000 odd people, I was flying solo in my mind - it was awe inspiring. The thump of the bass and noise inside my chest - absolutely thrilling. They sang 'With or without you' and I suddenly found myself crying quietly (I thanked God it was dark at that point). I don't know what the tears were about. I think I'd had the silly dream so long to see them live, to share their space and it was finally realised. It sounds corny and girlie - but it's hard not to be moved when you look around a football stadium bursting with people, only to feel like you are not singular in that moment. Dazzling. I think I've fallen in love with a feeling I didn't know existed.

SB xx