Yes I am sick, and I don’t do very well at being ill. So far today I have got up early to feed the cat and had two naps. My beautiful man-creature put me in the bath so I am relatively scum-free. Dizzy spells and wobbliness are far more fun than thick chest mucas but there hasn’t been too much of that. I don’t even know why I’m posting really, just that I should do it every weekday. I am also very pleased that I have had over 400 hits this month, though most of them based on searching daft things. Maybe I should consider telling a select few people I know to check it out. It just seems so… vain? I don’t know, I guess it’s kind of the point of blogging, to have an audience. But if I told people I would never know how far I could go, gathering accidental traffic and pretending that people read me.
I have The Consumption. There is little hope for me now. My chest feels compressed like the Man from Mars*
My brain is all swimmy. My cough is all coughy. If this gets much worse I’ll have to not come to work tomorrow.
*Stranger in a Strange land is most absorbing so far, although I couldn’t read on the train this morning as I felt barely conscious. Alas!
Two things of Win: first that they finally got back to me about a shiny new career advancement test at work which I shall be taking shortly, second that apples have come into season and I can now buy British again: screw you Belgium with your icky sour jongereds.
Bolognese, my latest story, first draft, which I am aiming to polish and submit to a competition by the deadline 6 days from now. It should be ok. I will leave it a day or so and come back to it. I kinda feel bad; my last story was about an awful dumping and this is about remembering an abusive ex. Not all the men in my stories are bad. Tony is an ok guy. And the first story of my recent revival, the Electric Dude Interlude, is about a nice guy. I really like him. It’s a shame his story was so short. Maybe I’ll bring him back if I need him later.
“He’d left pans and knives out where I could find them but I had to root around for a strainer. Flipping open the cupboards I found a quarter bottle of whiskey – Bell’s – the same kind Eddie used to have. It’d been two years but I’d always remember. Number of times he threw those bottles at me I’m surprised I’m not still ringing. But Tony…”
Changes have been happening. Housefolk Femme has gone, leaving babycat with a hole in her heart. I have moved my things into my partner’s room, so that after two years of squatting it is finally my room too. We took a bus ride to the end of the line and saw the border of Worcestershire. I saw an old friend and finally realised that our differences didn’t mean my inferiority.
It’s been intense. More than the run-of-the-mill bank holiday. And now I’m flat broke.
I do worry about money. Old Friend was telling us her mother likes her boyfriend because in ten years he’s set to be earning half a million. To me that is an inconceivable amount of money. After tax that’s still more than my yearly salary per month. I’ll just have to convince myself that my lifestyle is romantic and that I’m a starving artist. The only way to justify this of course is to apply myself to my art so look out for more extracts in the coming weeks and you’ll know I’m making good on it.
I could just make peace with being poor. In fact I don’t mind my lack of money most of the time, I probably just need to manage what I’ve got more effectively (damn jargon word). But in saying these things I’m letting myself off the hook for not writing. And I must write, otherwise I’m wasting everything I’ve achieved so far and using it simply to coast, and while you can coast at work you shouldn’t coast through life.
It’s friday afternoon, after a busy week of doing the same repetitive irritating task three times and I am so relieved that this will be a three day weekend. I will be upset if my feelings of dis-ease develop into an illness because I’m not in the mood.
I am disappointed that a test I was supposed to take today has not materialised – a test that would lead me to gain extra training and special projects. Given that this was first mentioned 6-8 weeks ago and never again between then and yesterday I am not concerned about having missed the boat, just that it’s taking its sweet-ass time getting here. It’s probably for the best as my ill-humour and glowering headache will only hinder me.
Thinking about fantasy style characters (anything a bit non-human from popular culture) it occurs that the bigger the freak they are the more normal their personality is. The reverse isn’t usually true (hence boring people) but the enemies of these characters tend to be the ‘painfully normal on the outside just plain odd on the inside’ types. Do they become enemies because they both want to be a bit more like each other? Battling for years and achieving arch-nemesis status because they are both so angry at each other for wanting what the other has?
Interesting… it seems I am starting to understand basic concepts of narrative *headdesk*
…to say I am swamped with work right now and can’t do a proper post. I don’t suppose this really matters as most of my traffic comes from people searching “the taste of women’s juices”