Monthly Archives: March 2010
Clash Of The Titans- Loved it when I was small and strangely wanting to go and see the remake. It would be nice to while away a couple of hours staring at armour-clad men running away from giant scorpions. Plus- Liam Neeson in spangles. Hee.
Half a day to go and I am hugely looking forward to the next couple of weeks off… Freedom!
Today was not such a good day- MR T didn’t start when I went to get on my way to school this morning; I had to call out the RAC and ended up getting a new battery as the one he had was not holding enough charge to turn the engine over. When I turned the key and nowt but clicking happened accompanied with the speedo hand buzzing at 0 mph I was fearful that hundreds of pounds were possibly going to have to be spent; the battery didn’t cost too much and now he sounds much happier. Hurrah.
My colleague made me more cake to cheer me, this time in the form of a lemon drizzle cake that was re-named “All Men Are Bastards (at sometime or other)” Cake. My eyes were proper brimming when I was presented with the delicious golden beauty and I am even happier to say that i’ve a huge chunk of it sat on my desk wrapped in tinfoil. Woo!
Hooray for the weekend!
Today was a better day- I managed not to cry for an entire day. Woo. I’m sure there’ll be another day to cry…
There was excitement at school in that the tutee I particularly dislike slapped another member of my form across the face telling her “I’ve been wanting to do that for an entire week.” I am greatly looking forward to her internal exclusion for the entirety of tomorrow. Hooray for horrible children getting a little payback.
I’m still not sleeping very well and so Friday is most welcome as I can spend the weekend curled up with Patrick. I think one of my Scandinavian crime novels might be a good pacifier, but of course i’m sure i’ll manage to make myself cry at some point over the weekend. Brilliant.
I’ll probably think too much about curling up with a living breathing bedmate; their warmth and the lovely feeling of being able to relax into safeness. Yep, it’s giving me a twinge just thinking the words to write. I’m sure if I ruminate a little more there’ll be tears.
Next week (Wednesday) it’s the double joy of both payday and two weeks off. FUCK YES, even if it does mean I have more time on my hands to think about things I would otherwise be distracted from by working.
Content Aware Fill
Just what I need at the moment- Mega cuteness of the furry, feathered, scaly and smooth sort. What? I’m getting sentimental in my old age; it’s not my fault.
Baby anteaters are just amazing… I would quite like to ride around on someone’s back for a while, all warm and fuzzy and safe. I know that in reality I can’t do this as try to walk along with me over your shoulder and i’ll feel sick from the pressure on my stomach. Not so good.
I’m not sure what is cuter- baby Anteaters or baby Sloths? I think both are exceptionally awesome creatures that are supremely well-adapted to their environment, and both spend fair amounts of time lounging around.
I greatly admire them :)
Oh good lord- A baby Tapir! Brilliant.
“Take care of yourself Han. I guess that’s what you’re best at isn’t it?”
You know things are not going particularly well when you’d very much like to curl up and go to sleep because then the pain will go away but you know that if you do all that will happen is you’ll wake up earlier than is usual and then lie there thinking about things.
FAIL either way.
Today one of my colleagues brought in a tin of home made brownies for me… All for me, because I have been looking so down… I was touched… It’s lovely to work with such caring people…
Pictures of squid and Zuul hosted here seem to be uncommonly popular; i’m trying to block the fuckers who are hotlinking by tweaking my .htaccess but somewhere along the line things are not working… dammit…
Non-geeks feel free to relax now…
Leia Ewok Village told me about how her recent ex had posted intimate details of their “relationship” on Twitter, so off I go to hunt for it, and lo and behold there we go. WTF. Why would anyone do such a thing?
Stupidly, my next port of call was to ponder whether MW#1 had a Twitter account, and again, lo and behold, voilà.
If it was possible for me to feel more insignificant than I already do… I am going to try and stay far, faaar away from that shite…
The rage at what MW#1 was telling me in our text conversations lasted around four hours. I finally managed to calm down and at least managed to go to bed without out wanting to punch things. All was fine until later in the day when I went to my Pilates class after school and I felt pissed off again.
The Pilates instructor knows MW#1 as part of her job and it was her who told me that he was seeing (lots) of other women; this led me to question him and the truth of the last seven months started to come out. So Pilates now equals feelings of anger and sadness. Great.
Today I came home, hung my coat up on the hook on the back of the door, curled up on my bed and cried. I am typing this with my hoodie hood pulled up over my head and I feel so sad. No more anger for the moment then. Is this an improvement…?
I have just done the washing up in what can only be classed as a “stompy” manner. As I type I am bash bash bashing the keys- I am FURIOUS.
Phrase of the day: Plausible deniability
I have not cleaned the bathroom or watched any Studio Ghibli yet but I am working on the world’s biggest essay on the subject of the non-relationship- I figure i’ll email or post it to MW#1. I feel the need to explain things from my perspective. It is proving difficult to order my thoughts as there are just so many of them but i’m sure i’ll wrap my brain around it and knock it into shape. At least it gives me something to do other than be a total slug.
Oh dear. At 9.43am this morning I fought back.
Over the last week or abouts I have tried very hard to keep my opinions about the non-relationship to myself and not communicate any of my thoughts on it to MW#1 during our “discussions”. I’ve kept things light and not delved too far into anything, working on the theory that it would be easier to get information out of him if I didn’t put in my two cents. The information is important to me for any future peace of mind I might possibly attain.
It’s been hard because, *true-to-style* all I want to do is counter-argue, fight back against what he’s saying, provide witnesses, character references, evidence. Point out the inconsistencies in his statements. I’ve restrained myself from doing so as I wanted information and also I thought that of the two of us *I* should not be the one having to defend herself, especially against such patently unfair judgements.
So, this morning (as seems to be usual) I woke early without reason and was lying there trying to get back to sleep when he replied to one of my questions about his motivation behind not committing to me. I’ve been angry and upset off and on the entire week but after sobbing for a minute or so at what he’d written I suddenly thought, Fuck It and so fired back a couple of messages that contained a sample of my real feelings on the matter.
They were well-reasoned and asked for some evidence to back up what he was saying; they also gave a little insight into what it’s like to feel inconsequential and unimportant to the person you love.
I haven’t heard back from him yet… It would be nice if he could be a gentleman about things, or just be kind towards someone who’s been hurt. Anyway, hopefully he will reply and if not well I can just keep on trying. Or not.
UPDATE 18.30: He did reply, but not in exactly expansive terms. I just got more angry…
So I did indeed end up going to bed ridiculously early, but this had the unfortunate effect of my waking up early which of course meant more time to think about things. Lying there for hours, unable to get back to sleep thinking about Sandra Bullock, MW#1, the GCSE exam on Tuesday, my stuffy ear (Eustachian tube problems). Mainly MW#1 of course- the conversations I wish I could have, the anger and sadness I feel.
In my “discussion” with MW#1 lately, I have sought his opinion on things, how he sees me, relationships, commitment etc. I have been careful not to communicate what I think as the more information I can get out of MW#1 the better, hopefully, I might feel. Information gives comfort, even when the information is far from comforting.
I guess it’s the anger I feel about how massively stupid the whole situation has become, but all I can equate my feelings to is what I sometimes have to do in my job:
In the department I work in we are lucky enough to have open plan classrooms with sliding doors that can be altered depending on what you are doing or how noisy the class is. This means that I can walk around the corner to the photocopier or to borrow some materials from a colleague’s room and hear what is going on even if I can’t always see it.
Sometimes I walk back into my classroom to find what I class as shenanigans going on- Silliness, stupidity, whatever someone would clearly not be doing if I were there in the room. For example, messing about with paint or water, play-fighting, running around and shouting. So I come back into the room and see said child/children behaving in an inappropriate way and this is what happens next:
WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?
– This generally causes all the kids to freeze. It’s brilliant –
How DARE you behave that way in my classroom!?
SIT down RIGHT NOW!
Everyone scuttles back to their places. I then put on my best unimpressed AND angry face and proceed to lecture them on proper behaviour before threatening them with essays or other boring stuff I know they will dislike.
This is a little how I feel at the moment- The anger at discovering moronic behaviour that really, really shouldn’t be happening. I love you, but not your fucking disgraceful behaviour. Thanks.
It’s quarter to fucking nine in the evening and all I want to do is crawl into bed, curl up with Patrick and drift off.
Friday and le weekend. I’ve pasta on the boil and i’m on the first couple of sips of a cold glass of white… sigh. I’m planning to spend the entire weekend doing precisely fuck all- I am actually looking forward to cleaning the bathroom: I’ve a feeling it will be soothing to my overwrought brain, just like my recent haircut seemed to put at least one thing right in my life. The hair is important, clearly.
I’m going to clean, read, watch some Studio Ghibli and play some DS. Thanks to Dr. Shrunk I now have the top-of-the-tree shop in Animal Crossing, where I can get my hair done in the parlour. Like I said, the hair is important. I’m also going to take long hot showers and cry. Woo.
On the MW#1 textual communication front, things sl-o-w-ly continue. I was rather amused to see that he seemed to think that discussing his boss’s knee injury was good to talk about. It’s like, okay, sure, i’ll humour this, but can we get back to the conversation we were having about your seemingly recent decision not to commit to me… ‘k?
As for the content of what we are “discussing” – I’m not going to share as it would serve little purpose other than to fulfil my own mini personal revenge fantasy. Not much point. I will say that what he’s saying is very interesting and is giving insight. In some ways it is also making me feel a teeny-tiny bit better but not in the way I think he would expect.
I still feel sad, tired, hugely pessimistic about the future. Like the “never finding anyone to love” future that seems to beckon.
Anyway, back to reading about Sandra Bullock’s complete cock of a husband… Quote of the day from an anonymous “friend”:
“He really (bleeped) up this time and he knows it. What a stupid stupid thing to do, mess around on Sandy with a girl like that? She is nothing but a tramp. Disgusting. I don’t know what he was thinking but I know what he was thinking with.”IDIOT.
“I am really (bleeped) at him because he had everything with her and he was really happy, so to go and do this? What a huge mistake and now he’s kicking himself. I know he feels horrible about it but he just shouldn’t have done this in the first place…”
From “Reasons” Men Cheat: Lame at Jezebel today- Of general interest but particularly so given the shit Sandra Bullock appears to be having to go through at the moment – She seems an especially lovely person and I feel for her. UGH.
“If you ‘love’ women, why do you cheat on your wife? Maybe because you don’t actually ‘love’ women. Not as living, breathing humans with emotions and depth. You ‘love’ women the way a person can ‘love’ an object. If you love bags, or chocolate, or music, you want to sample all kinds; buy, eat or listen as much as you can; immerse yourself. But this is not the same as loving a person; with love comes trust. And compassion.”
Today was an improvement- Last night I slept better and so I was more with it at work. I cried when commiserating with a colleague, but I didn’t feel like I wanted to completely hide away from the world.
The textual conversing is continuing with MW#1 and it is proving to be very interesting. The slow nature of his responses gives me time to consider carefully what questions to ask and what my responses should be, which is good, though rather frustrating at times when I want to continue a line of enquiry and he’s given up for the day.
Oh what a massively un-brilliant day today was. Last night I eventually cried myself calm before getting very little sleep as I thought about things; this morning I drove robot-zombie-like to work where I spent the entire day having to suck it up. I couldn’t talk to my colleagues about it as I knew i’d just dissolve into tears and be unable to do my job; I wished I could crawl under a rock and not have to stand in front of thirty children and pretend everything was just fiiine.
Although before all of this I wanted to speak to MW#1 in person, now I know I cannot, at least not now- I’d get too upset and thus wouldn’t be able to say what I need to say. So i’m teasing out reasons and motivations via text, which is a little helpful. Maybe I will be able to talk face-to-face, but i’ve got to get through one day without wanting to weep first. I feel so goddamned sad and tired.
I do not have a penis, but lo, I feel like the biggest dick in the room. Brilliant.
The small, needle-bright spark of hope that shone in what is an increasingly gloomy world has gone. Fallen. That’s it.
Oh, he meant so very much to me…
Life goes on. I continue feeling very, very small.
I continue to question what the point is of working hard, being kind to others, trying, when all that seems to result in is Nice Girls Finish Last AKA Loserville. Maybe that’s just how things have to be. It is very hard to contemplate facing the oncoming years alone. Alone, for years, decades. Giving but never receiving.
I’d like to receive, please.
I finished the reports. At last. Parents Evening went well, although as is usual I started to lose my marbles a little towards the end. I’m knackered and spent what remained of my evening ploughing through a very large plate of pasta and a large glass of white. I watched an episode of One Born Every Minute and cried rather a lot. Woo hoo.
It is a rather great programme- Basically a fly-on-the-birthing-suite-wall documentary series. Lots of women groaning in pain, babies – some very poorly – and ridiculously unsupportive, inept fathers. FFS. It is rather brilliant, birth. Scary yet awesome. I’d like the opportunity to experience it but at the same time have The Fear.
I figure that by the time I find anyone sober, mostly-sane and financially stable enough to commit in an appropriate manner to me i’ll be past forty, so my chances of becoming a Mother are pretty ropey. Sigh. This makes me pretty sad. But then there are a lot of things that make me sad.
Around three thousand words later and I have only four tutee reports to go… I’m exhausted and am not looking forward to another parents evening tomorrow night. Ugh.
Much comment at Tuesday’s pastoral meeting about workload and how it’s fairly ridiculous at the moment. I agree. SO MUCH.
Can’t wait until Friday and a long sleep. I go to bed tired, I wake up tired… ad infinitum. I think I will try and buy some more carrots tomorrow…
Swim In Pool Supply by Roadsidepictures [cc]
Feeling a bit better today, or at least less bone-crushingly sad. Spent most of the day reading through my form’s reports – thirty, five-page reports the joy – and correcting and rewriting any portions that needed it. Only three were error-free. Sigh.
It’s comforting to find that my tutees who are obnoxious towards me are badly behaved in other classes, though it doesn’t make my heart any lighter at all. Ugh. I now have to write comments about all of the little darlings for first thing Friday and collate their commendations for the year and their accomplishments.
Post-correcting I watched a couple of documentaries about Las Vegas; over a glass of white I day – or evening-dreamed – about a holiday under the hot Nevada sun. I imagined staying in the Four Seasons Las Vegas, spending time eating and drinking a lot (buffets make me excitable), being blindingly pasty whilst reading Scandinavian crime fiction on a lounger by the pool before heading out into the desert to get up close and intimate with some sandstone. I also imagined wandering about without having to worry about taking a cardigan with me and slowly getting very drunk on a frozen Margarita that came in a glass the size of a goldfish bowl.
I thought of waking up next to the one I love and sleepy, beer-tinged kisses out in the desert under a blanket of stars above; I imagined laughing loudly and a lot, and not having to worry about things so much. Sigh.
Well, at least this unobtainable fantasy is more obtainable than my month in Hawai’i. Excellent.
Don’t Get Around Much Anymore
Nat King Cole
Saturday night at home with Patrick and a glass of white; spent the day in Lahndahn tahn with my Mum – Service at Canteen was shoddy again but food was good; it was as usual great to see my Mum. Spent much of the day ranting about things and feeling increasingly fed up and sad as the day wore on – too many people at the Courtauld Gallery, being ignored by waiters, prevented from having tea and cake by misinformed National Gallery Café staff.
Working hard for little reward, being ashamed of my living environs, the stupidity and wilful ignorance of the rest of the planet and men being permanently juvenile just added to the joy-fest.
I’m all happy and smiley at work, but that’s not the case when i’m out of the classroom; I feel tired all the goddamned time too. When we were at the Royal Festival Hall today I had to fight to stop myself crying at the rather great school band that was playing in the ballroom; a Sixth Former sang Don’t Get Around Much Anymore, which was waaay too close to the bone for my brain. FOR FUCKS SAKE.
Anyway, i’m home with the one “man” that will commit to me, Patrick, the non-ambulatory, non-breathing soft toy, and i’m listening to the silken butter that is Nat King Cole’s voice and am feeling very small and sad. The world is sl-o-o-w-ly crushing me it seems at the moment. Fun times all round!
I’ve not written about the whole MW#1 situation for a while as, frankly, there is nothing of note to comment on. The Great Silence continues unabated and aside from a few texts now and then i’ve seen hide nor hair of him for getting on seven months.
Two months back I suggested that we meet to discuss the months that have passed, the current situation and possible futures; I wasn’t after a final resolution, just some dialogue but MW#1’s apparent policy of sticking his head in the sand for as long as he can possibly manage has not led to us meeting up but has resulted in my anger, frustration and sadness. Just for a change.
So i’ve said that if we’ve not managed to meet up by the end of March then i’m going to walk. So that gives him, oooh, five weeks in which to find I dunno, one afternoon? Six hours?I do not consider this an unreasonable request, especially as his unreasonable behaviour has precipitated my response. Jeebus, it would be nice not to be let down by him.
I feel I have no option. I’m not going to ask him to meet up- he is aware of what i’ve asked for; he’s got to do the arranging as i’m fed up with always always always being the one running around doing the arranging. I’ve spent years doing the inviting, so i’m not going to do it any more.
What i’ll do if we haven’t met to talk and the 31st rolls around I am not quite sure; he’s got a few weeks until then so I guess i’ll just have to take it how I see it as the deadline looms. Ugh, the joy…
New pretty I have spied (when supposedly “writing reports”): Keira. Scottish designer who specialises in leatherwork, but not of your typical biker jacket-type.
If I had a spare £500 i’d love a leather cape or gold metallic bomber jacket – trust me, it’s awesome – but my more limited budget has me lusting after the £32 Wrist Bow…
From the fabulous Bordello of London and Boudiche of Edinburgh