This is something that creeps across my mind a lot. I have ups and I have downs, but I know that even my best days are tainted with something that spoils the flavour of them. You’re so sure that it can’t be normal, but you still wonder if it is; and if it is, then you have to face up to your own shortcomings as a person, for being so utterly defeated by something that everyone else deals with, and overcomes, on a daily basis.
I sometimes feel like there’s no colour in my world. It’s as simple as that. I look out across a sea of blues and greens and shimmering golds, and my brain only shows me shades of grey; and as the smiles play across the faces of those who see what I see, but not as I see it, it only serves to remind me of the part of myself that seems to be missing.
I don’t believe in ‘souls’; but if I did, that’s what I’d say I’d misplaced.
A few handy hints for the on-the-go traveler who is far too busy (being an important, big shot man/woman-about-town, no doubt) to make time for the dreary underling, the tedious former associate, or the slightly mental, and (as you’ve just remembered) weirdly clingy ex-partner.
Step One: Stay on the Move
Maintaining momentum is the golden rule. If this is a ‘smile and wave‘ acquaintance, then it shouldn’t be a problem; however if you know that a conversation will be instigated, then there’s an important trick that I like to call the ‘spin ‘n’ grin‘. Be the first person to initiate contact, as it makes you seem genuinely interested in conversing, but instead of stopping in front of them (absolute no-no), simply walk to the side of them, turning around so that you’re still facing them, chatting, but walking away backwards. This shows that you’re in a hurry to do something that, as much as you’d love to stay and chat, can’t be put off. Keep smiling and talking until you’re roughly four steps away, and then bust out the old ‘I’m sorry, I really have to run, but it’s lovely seeing you.’ Continue reading →
1. Organise my clothes.
2. Work on the book.
3. Tidy the flat.
4. Write up my next Impersonals article.
5. Do the washing up.
6. Look for a place to live back home.
7. Take the bins out.
8. Throw away the Christmas tree.
9. Post a late Christmas present to my brother.
What I have done:
1. Eat an entire bag of cheese Doritos with an entire jar of salsa dip.
I don’t want to write much on all this school shooting stuff, because it’s grown into a topic with a million facets; from people debating the merit of mental health funding over gun control laws, to people insulting the media for sensationalising criminals. My opinions aren’t important enough to mill around with all of that, but there is something that has occurred to me, as incorrect or presumptive as it may be.
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, yearning to breath free.”
This is an extract from the poem that lies at the proud feet of America’s Statue of Liberty that, when first built, served as a beacon to travellers and immigrants as they neared their soon-to-be home. It served as a symbolic gateway to a new life; a free life, where a person was able to pursue his or her dreams, with honesty and integrity, and above all, without fear of persecution or undue judgement.
In this new era however, a unseen country has arisen in the wake of the digital age; a new domain for men and women, children and adults, to express themselves, to open themselves, to find themselves; and like Narnia or Hogwarts or countless other realms of fantasy and imagination, this parallel universe is accessed via a magical portal.
Well, I still think iPads and android phones are pretty magical, anyway.
There are a lot of misunderstandings about self-harm, many of which have lead to ostracising behaviour and unfair prejudices. I try not to write too often about anything personal on this blog, but I was confronted with a reminder of this topic at work today, when a cute, young girl came up to order a drink, and I could see the old, familiar white lines across her wrists and forearms.
I’m sat in bed, wide awake as I usually am at these obscene hours of the night, at such a loss of ideas as to what to do, that I’m now going to write about said loss of ideas as to what to do, in an effort of turning it into an idea of what to do… Or something. Continue reading →