Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Pigsy the vampire catcher

I am feeling very restless today. My mind is jumping from one idea to another and running in circles of increasingly unlikely fancy before pausing, yawning, and looking into a void. Then starting over. I jump up from the couch to stand at the kitchen window, not to do the washing up, which sits there all out of patience and out of luck, or any other thing before sitting down at the computer to half play a silly game before jumping up again to read a magazine article. Reading doesn’t soothe my irritated mind, nor does any part of the internet, I could do something but everything else seems a chore or is a chore and I’m trying to pretend that they’ll just go away again.

I think that after only two days off I’m not yet ready to face the stress of work again. It’s never a good sign when work is so stressful that it ruins your time off and suddenly you’re a child again and it’s Sunday night and you’re freaking out so much that you can’t sleep. You want to go back so little that you think your brain will burst from it.

Weeks ago I read my cards (bet you never imagined that, eh?) for the first time in years. There’s something about this flat that puts me off doing readings and, besides, there’s no point when you already know what they’re going to say. Mine always say the same things. Always. And I usually pick the same cards. Success through creative discipline, change, dramatic change – if there is karma, if there is reincarnation then my lessons are all about trusting my abilities, more than that – believing that I am able and trusting in it, and of changing situations before they become powder kegs. I always wait too long, hold onto dead situations, take on responsibilities that aren’t mine, feel responsible for people who are older and who really ought to know better. I am never content to sit in the present and watch things unfold. I take the pieces I look at them and see when they could lead, it doesn’t take much to have a good idea of where something is going but it always amazes me how many people can’t look at something and see its trajectory.

I am tense because I am trying to be calm and accepting [and possibly have PMS] of the things I cannot change either at all or in an instant. I recently applied for a job, one that I want very much not because it’s a particularly awesome job but because of the possibilities it opens up. I think I am stressed, not just because of work, because I haven’t heard anything back from them, not so much as ‘thanks for applying’. I’m trying not to be judgemental about what could be viewed as a lapse in etiquette [really, to leave people hanging for two weeks?] because I realise that there would have been a hell of a lot of applications – I only hope that mine is viewed as genuine.

I am also stressed about the people in my life. I hate those conversations with friends when they tell you how out of character you’re being when you expose a facet of yourself that they haven’t seen before. I suppose this is my own fault for being unnaturally secretive. I genuinely don’t expect people to find me fascinating or to be interested in my minutiae, I’ve got me for that [oh and a blog], so I don’t really give out a lot of information. Even things that I am terribly passionate about, like politics, only get airing in the right company because my idea of a good time does not include being lectured, told I’m a communist, told I’m na├»ve, told that I know nothing about what I’m talking about [this one is particularly ironic but don’t people get shitty when you’ve been to university? Consequently -], told that I’ve been brainwashed, told that I don’t know how to think for myself [thank you, but I can, you know, life would be awfully tough if I couldn’t], and oh but I can’t remember all the other things I’ve been told. And also, you know, sex-death-politics – the real fun of life, apparently aren’t good dinner table conversation. The other thing is trying to force yourself into a mould that you didn’t come from. I didn’t come from that particular small town, limited culture, limited exposure to the other; I came from Sydney and was transplanted. I was the minority, I was too young and too alienated to stand up for who I should have been so I tried to be as they’d been brought up to be, as they’d always known. It couldn’t have been more foreign. It couldn’t have left bigger scars. It turns out that I’m not afraid of the city, of the concrete wilderness, of the millions of people doing whatever, of the world beyond home and hearth. I prefer it. And what that means – I don’t know, my prejudice, probably. My snobbery. My struggling to get away from a way of life that could be large but is made so very small. My belief that there is more than one way of living, more than two even, that there is a different way for every different person and that I’m quite sick of having others tell me who I am, how I live, how I shall be. I have my own ideas, I will not be dictated to and I will not long stand your constant constraints even if they are your attempts to understand and place the world – you can do it without sharing.

There is, in fact, so much that I am sick of in my personal relationships. I’m quite sick of being a dumping ground. I’m sick of being a last resort. I’m sick of being the picked up when others are bored only to be ignored when they’ve got something else on. I’m sick of being thought to have an absurdly think hide – seriously, no one is that fucking insensitive, it’s mostly fat, not elephantine skin. I’m sick of the friend who doesn’t like me being around her other friends because…what? Am I that much of an arsehole? I realise that I don’t fit in with them terribly well and am gauche around them [actually, bet you didn’t realise] but the attitude doesn’t help. I do try. I’m sick of being the one that’s somehow weirder than the others. You know what, I’m an adult, I’m fairly intelligent, different things interest me, I’m independent [far more so than people ever seem willing to acknowledge], so what if I’m weird to you – you’re pretty damn weird to me too.
I’ve lost the train of this rant and am going off to watch Huff – which I like so fuck off.

If you want me, you know what, you know where to find me but don’t be expecting me to search you out.

13 comments:

themarina said...

I can completely relate to living in a big city. I hated every moment I spent in the dinky town I grew up in and couldn't wait to get out.

Good luck with the job. The bastards should at least acknowledge that they've received your application.

alexis said...

I don't know if I'm allowed to care this much, having never met you, and being a relatively new kid on the blog: but I really hope that things de-crapify mighty soon. I hugely =admire your honesty and the way you fling your words together, and I would gladly talk sex-death-politics any day of the week.

Mish said...

Someone called me a communist once. That was nice.

Job applications, expert here. I applied for at least 20 jobs. I heard back from maybe 4 saying they weren't interested. I had to chase up 2 of those 4 for a response. The others didn't bother getting back to me. You should just call them, it's the only way to know. It's a long and drawn-out process anyway, and incredibly frustrating if you don't know what's going on.

So you have my sympathies, and my best wishes. I hope you get the job, i'll keep my fingers crossed for you.

Meredith said...

Yeah, what they said. I'd actually be surprised to get an acknowledgment for a job application nowadays - most places seem to have abandoned it. Yes, being called a communist is indeed a compliment. Dare I say that you may need to do a "friend" cull? It's easy, and usually fun, and liberating.

Mark said...

Didn't I put a comment here the other day? Why would I read the whole thing and then not comment? Random.

I went to a play last night where there was a robot comedian. It said: IF RELIGION AND POLITICS ARE THE ULTIMATE CONTROVERSIAL TOPICS, WOULD IT BE TABOO TO ARGUE THAT GOD IS THE PRESIDENT OF EVERYTHING?

lolz. Now let's hope those communists at Google let this comment through...

nailpolishblues said...

Marina, I declared Friday as end day for the job. I mean sure I'd still be into it if they phoned but three weeks without word just kind of says, well, nothing [it also says you're a nothing but I'm not taking it personally. Also congrats on the scholarship! I keep forgetting to comment on blogs because I read them at work (under the table as it were) and forget what I was going to say by the time I come home.].

Alexis, I don't know that I'm being all that honest it's more that I'm more extroverted in my blog than I am IRL so I say things that I wouldn't dream [oh wouldn't I?] of saying to people's faces. I'd like things to de-crapify as well but I've come over all Buddhist [and yes, it itches so] and am very much aware that my messes are of my own making and, therefore, unmaking. But instead of doing anything I'm mostly just bitching. I give you permission to care :p
Also, some of those words are a bit too flung - but I'm too lazy to go back and edit.


Mish, we all know that you're a commie. Don't pretend like it's not true! I think I'll have to really start looking properly for a job - it's just that this one was so very perfect and I got my hopes up just a little...so very, very perfect...
Must. Stop. Thinking. About. It.

Meredith, I am something of a culler but the ones annoying me are practically family so it's not really an option. I figure that when friends are surrogate family they are at liberty to be as irritating as real family and to be forgiven in much the same way. Voodoo dolls do help though.

Mark, no you didn't. You suck.
I thought Oprah was the president of everything - does that mean she's god? I knew I was an athiest for a reason.

PS to all apologies if any typos or comments that make no sense - I am feeling very lazy :D

glen said...

"Someone called me a communist once."

that wasn't me was it? at the only good blogger meet up that happened like ages ago? I think it may have been...

nailpolishblues said...

Ah, was that you, Glen? I always wondered what you did to annoy Rinna.

glen said...

annoy rinna? wtf? hmmm, i called her a hottie (on Mark's blog), which was after she called me a "good looking bloke". didn't call her a communist. only misha scored that!

bozeru!

nailpolishblues said...

bozeru?

Er, maybe I misinterpreted something...

glen said...

bozeru was my word verification word. it sounded f'ckin awesome so now I have turned it into an affectation like 'rock'.

bozeru!

nailpolishblues said...

Note to self: don't ask questions when you know the answer is going to be lame.

Anonymous said...

note to self: bozeru!