Tuesday, August 08, 2006

real life

So I finished university, I got a first, from supposedly the best university in the country for my subject (according to the Guardian, no surprise given the same simpering pseudo left wing sympathies they share) and can i get a decent job? Hell no. I earn more or less minimum wage and am having to scrape an existence on about £170 week. Shouldn't complain cos it isn't that bad, but I actually earned more before I went to university, and I'm beginning to wonder if it was all a waste of time and money, which is really encouraging as I'm meant to be going back for part-time post grad study. I've applied for all these jobs and haven't even had an interview - what am I doing wrong???
As I mainly work at night, and I can't adjust my sleep pattern to fit my new schedule, I sit around the house all day, half asleep, depressed and bored out my mind. I don't care leave the house - I have an awful compulsion to spend any money I have on me, and there are far too many things to spend your money on in brighton: coffee; food; beer; beautiful clothes; even more beautiful rent boys (joking about the last one). So basically I have had way too much time to myself, and whenever I spend all this time alone I get depressed. I think partly because it reminds me so much of being a teenager, sitting in my room, crying and crying and crying and gradually discovering that the only thing that would stop me from crying was to cut myself, so that I had a physical manifestation of my pain to focus on, a wound that could heal, that I could see and care for, rather than ones that I could never quite find, and kept on hurting, regardless of anything I did to try and cure it.
So basically, I’ve been more down these past couple of months than I have been in years. It’s fucking up my relationship more than I realised too. I never, ever, ever usually let myself lose my temper with people, but I yelled at my boyfriend the other day, really yelled, for no reason. That’s not the kind of person I want to be, because I have a filthy temper, and I am so terrifying when I’m angry. So to lose my rag, without even noticing that I’m doing it really scares me. After I shouted, he walked off, and (I feel so bad for this) it didn’t occur to me for about half an hour that I’d hurt him. I find it so hard to trust that people love me, and I don’t expect to be able to hurt anyone, because I can’t believe that anyone could care for me enough for me to be able to hurt them. It’s selfishness, caught up with self hatred, which is a bit of a Gordian knot of emotions to unravel. I talked to JG about this, and then I realised the enormity of what I’m doing to him; it’s abuse, of a kind that I’ve been subject to in relationships, and would now, having been through it once, wouldn’t put up with. I’d walk out on anyone who did it to me. So I asked him if he wanted to take some time apart from me, give me a few months to try and clear my head. I’m not sure if this is the hard option or the easy way out. When I think about my relationship, I’m sometimes so sure that this is it, that I want to be with him long term, have kids with him, tie my life to his, but I doubt it sometimes too, I was 20 when we met, and I’ve never been one for blind faith in anything.
I don’t know how I can change myself, I don’t think I really have the strength or the will power to drag myself out of depression. I threw a drink at my boyfriend and stormed out a pub the other day when he said that people choose to be unhappy. On the one hand, he is so, so wrong, I never chose this, I’ve been miserable since I was 13, but on the other, there’s a nagging seed of doubt in my mind about this. I’m at a cross-road, where perhaps I could choose to be happy, that if I work at it hard enough, that if I rake over all my bad memories and try and work out where this started, I might start to get better. Perhaps this niggling doubt in my previous conviction in the helplessness of my situation, could be the grain of sand, around which the oyster forms a pearl.
Just reread that last sentence, and whilst it makes me gag with its ‘poignancy’, I’ll let it stand, because I really do want it to be true.

Thursday, June 08, 2006

The times that I have been really, really happy…

The times that I have been really, really happy…
This feels way to open to write about, because it tells so much about me; more than I want anyone, except JG, to know…
In India, on the bus, going past the salt pans which the tsunami has now washed away, with the family who I will never, ever forget until I die. The feeling of independence, freedom and distance from everything I thought I knew was so intoxicating I can’t even describe it. I will never forget the people who shared that hot, dusty, bumpy journey with me - the man, with his slicked back hair, lacquered in place by dirt, his lunghi and striped shirt; the woman with her long nails, and the vivid pink, red and gold of her sari and the care that a woman who had so little had taken in dressing her hair; the beautiful little boy who sat between them, who seemed so loved and who they obviously gave the best of what they had to. I remember their loud, unashamed chatter, so different from the reservation and quiet embarrassment people where I came from, and the way that they saw me watching them, and how we shared in each other’s joy: their love for their son; and the pleasure that I was taking from living the moment and being so free……
The realisation of being truly lost, of knowing that absolutely no-one had the slightest idea of where I was, and that if I chose, I could disappear and never be found again. Pure anonymity and utter dereliction of my own making.
Being alone in the car at night, driving too fast on a bumpy road, singing my heart out safe in the knowledge that I couldn’t be heard, that I couldn’t be judged. ‘A moment to myself’ - completely personal, but something that I knew everyone had done. Something personal that made me feel like I was a part of something greater when I otherwise felt so isolated.

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

happy birthday

My blog is a year old

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

You've changed

I was looking back over some of my earlier postings recently, and I began to wonder if I was less bitter than I used to be. I don't seem to be as angry as I used to be, the vitriol isn't there...I don't yell at the news any more, I cry. I don't know if that's a good thing or not, I'm calmer and not so hard to be around now, but I feel ten times more powerless.
I look back and can't believe how cynical I was about my relationship, and I can't remember if I was putting it on or not (alcohol and drug abuse ruins your memory kids). We're still together, and I love him, maybe it's that that mellowed me....what a fucking cliche though, 'All she needed was the love of a good man'. I don't want that to be the case, it's like when you get to the end of a book with a really, really evil character, and the author tried to explain it away by saying it was becasue their parents never loved them as a child. Did Shakespeare tell us at the end of Othello that Iago did it 'cos his mother left him with the nanny? No, and that's why will still read it, for the mystery.
I digress, I'm not a Shakesperean villain. Maybe it's living in Brighton, apparently we have the one of the lowest levels of carbon emissions in the country, maybe that's why I've calmed down since I moved here, but then if you look at the state of West Street on a Saturday night thst little theory is disproved, it's like Gaza.
Maybe it's all the' love' in the air down here, I doubt it though, people in Brighton have to be the most emotionally dysfunctional and fucked up I've ever encountered. No one can make their relationships work, friendships don't seem to last and for all the pseudo-Buddhist, smash-EDO, vote Green bollocks that floats around down here most people's ultimate concern is for them selves. That makes me angry.
Perhaps I'm not as calm as I thought!

Friday, February 17, 2006


big rabbit!

would it have been better if.....

If man/womankind had never been outside the boundaries of their own nation, would the world be a better place?
Are boats more danderous than guns?
Are walls such a bad thing?
In a melancholy, reflective kind of mood, been studying the crusades and the slave trade, hence the questions.
Answers on a postcard please...persuade me that the world would be this bad even if Europeans had never made it off the continent.

R.E.S.P.E.C.T

On the subject of respect....
The proposed smoking ban in pubs and bars - would it be necessary if smokers had the courtesy to ask the people around them if they minded them smoking?

freedom of speech

Jumping on board a bit late here I know (so what's new there?) but how crazy has this stuff about the Danish cartoons of Mohammed been?
Being a bleeding heart liberal like myself is a tricky thing in this situation - freedom of speech or defending a minority? Which way to turn? Our two big causes in conflict , it's almost enough to make us hit the organic, fairtrade, recycled bottle.....
Don't get me wrong, I think the fucker who drew those cartoons is a twat, how could have not known what would happen? The images he drew not only, by portraying the prophet of Islam as a terrorist, portrayed all Muslims as terrorists, but also went against one of the central beliefs of Islam, that men should not make 'graven images' of anything on earth or in heaven. (Yes, it's in the Koran and the Old Testament, but it's one of the many commandments that Christians seem to have decided to ignore, love thy neighbour being another.) People have died - and what was his point, that some Muslims have engaged in terrorist activity - well, duh, why not just write that, actually say it? There are hundreds of these images, which I'm not going to provide a link to, because I don't want to encourage anyone to bother looking at them, each as pointless as the last. They have no merit - they aren't satire, they have no real message or corrective impulse to them. All they make me think is - what was the point. The 'artist' will probably spend the rest of his life in hiding, and he's achieved noithing more than making the world a worse place.
BUT, 'behead those that insult islam' - ummm, no. The guy is a cunt, but let's not go that far. He insulted your religion, and he shouldn't have, and no newspaper of any integrity should ever have printed them, but encouraging violence against them? Islam is a relgion of peace and brotherhood, and it is being destroyed b y these more memorable images of exremism and viloence.
This is the ultimate case of 'It's not what you said but the way you said it' (How many times have boyfriends said that to me after a row?). Any religion should open for criticism, but that criticism should be constructed in the best possible way to get the message across, which in this case, in my humble position, was not to draw the Prophet with a bomb under his hat.
Freedom of speech is only viable when people have respoect for one another.....

Friday, February 10, 2006

Wasting my days...

I was expecting to have a package delivered, and as our letterbox is too small for anything bigger than the stamp on the actual letter, and our next door neighbours are evil scum I had to wait in for it. Our door bell doesn’t work either (heads up to any brighton residents - DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT rent from Property Moves, they don’t understand the concept of maintenance and they will rob you blind at every opportunity) so you have to wait right by the door, just in case the delivery person has the intelligence to realise that when they ring the bell it doesn’t make any sound. I must have gone to the loo or something, I come downstairs and there’s a card saying they’d come, but no one was in and would I like to go and pick it up from the depot in Shoreham on fucking Sea.
After negotiations and threats worthy of Middle East peace brokering, I arranged to have it redelivered, between the hours of two and three today, and got the afternoon off work, so I was sure to be in. It got there at 6.30. Life is so short and this is how we all end up spending out days - why?

Friday, November 11, 2005

Rememberance Day

I cried my eyes out for the whole one minute silence today - I've never done that before. World Wars 1 and 2 are events which I haven't had an emotional link with; my grandparents don't speak about it, but neither is theirs a revered, pained silence, they just don't have anything to say.
I don't know what it was that tapped such a well of emotion in me , maybe going to Bosnia made me think about war more, or maybe I just realised the magnitude of what that war overcame. For all the evils that there are in post-war Western society, and despite all the less honourable reasons that England went to war for, World War 2 was a moral victory against a politics too sickening to imagine.
I've always been against that kind of traditional flag waving 'we won the war' pride, and I still am, but I realise the importance of remeberance more than ever. I hope that we as a nation never forget those terrible images of the terrible machine of war, burning skin, ripping flesh, shattering bones, of the terrible absences where limbs should have been, and the rows and rows of gravestones, each one holding someone who was loved, who was hated, who was ignored, who existed, who should never have been there.
I had a lecture this week that glorified the Russian Revolution of October 1917 of its excess of feeling and the artistic acheivement it inspired in comparison with our postmodern 'hyper reality,' our shunning of grand narratives in favour of the new relgion of consumerism. The lecture was neatly wrapped up by saying that, of course, not all the consequences of the Revolution were as noble or as worthy of praise. Postmodernism might have made us apathetic, convictionless, impotent, little better than battery hens in the capitalist system, but surely rather that than those 'big ideas' of fascism, communism, Stalinism, Nazism in whose grasp so many perished.
I know that capitalism is just another of those grand narratives and that we are living under another kind of tyranny, and that we wage our wars in places we can't see. I like post-modernism, I like that it lets me be vague, lazy and contradictory with my opinions, and I want it not to be something that we are force fed 'for our own good', like veal on antibiotics. I want so much to believe that there is a better way, and the only way that I can see is if there is no 'big idea', if everything that doesn't hurt anyone is ok.
free 
hit counter free web counter shareware freeware download

Brighton Bloggers