Times they are up heaving

August 26, 2008

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.

For the record: a dream I dreamed

July 31, 2008

This morning just before I woke up I dreamed I was in a stark grungy building. Molly Ringwald was there but she exploded. Then I had a glass of smoothie made from her remains. It tasted rancid and I thought “Maybe I should have cooked it first”

I had a twinge of nausea but that was probably when the cat stood on my stomach.


July 2, 2008

I feel like the shadow of death is hanging over me at the moment, and it doesn’t help that the sky is thickly overcast. Yesterday I didn’t post because I was too busy having a massive freak-out after my partner told me he’d been quite badly electrocuted by the toaster. I was consumed by the possibility of his death for the rest of the day and as soon as I got home I hugged him and started to cry. This probably confused him quite a lot as it was 6 hours after the incident and he was quite chirpy by then, playing games and enjoying caffeine. It was like the moment when you realise your own mortality. I’d had mine at around the age of six when my great-grandma died and I realised that I wasn’t going to last forever. I was probably too young to include in that the idea that all the people I dearly love will die also.  Losing my parents will of course be devastating when it happens but losing my partner or very close friends will hurt in a different way because I’m not done with them yet. There are still things I need them for, things I will want to share with them and things I can share only with them. Each of these people means something different to me and there are things that I share with each of them that the others wouldn’t understand.

An assured death, definitely sheduled to occur shortly, is that of my childhood cat. There were two of them but the first died two years ago of tongue cancer – apparently common in cats. Now the fat old mog has grown frail, her kidneys are lumpy, her heart murmury and her appetite lacking. I don’t think there will be time to go home and say goodbye.

Finally I fear for my grandmother. She is 80 today, and next week she is going to have surgery to remove a tumour from her bowel. I hope this will make her better – she has been getting weaker for the last year and it could be the tumour growth was sapping her strength. Or she could just be old. My brain has created a story around the situation: that my mother will sacrifice her beloved cat in order to save her mother. Will this satisfy death? In time I will know.


June 24, 2008

It’s a popular thing to hate, but what can I say? I just don’t have the time to be interesting today. Along with the usual gumph I’ve come to expect (future proof? As in ‘you can’t get me now, future!#manic laughter#) I came across one I hadn’t seen before: sunsetting. As in ‘to sunset’ as in ‘I’m going to sunset your ass if you don’t stop pissing on my language’ which puts me in mind of cowboys. Apparently sunsetting is a prettier way of saying decommissioning. Obviously you can’t talk about something ugly and potentially damaging to the bottom line in business so you have to make up an obscure metaphor by brutalising an existing word into a different part of speach. I’m all for language evolution but this is just ridiculous.

I also fell out with the cat. She refused to come in last night because there was something killable under a bush so I left her out all night. She was very whiny in the morning but also grateful that she still owns my love so I think we’re cool.

Like jumping off a cliff into some rapids

June 10, 2008

I have a small amount of dread that I am trying to contain for the sake of beloved who is straining at the seams and could probably use support more than a heap more worry. Soon we will have to move house.

Moving house in the logistical sense is not too bad as we won’t be going far and I have already enlisted the help of a man with a van. Ditching our deadweight housefolks will be emotionally straining (Housefolk Femme has already announced she is leaving). Moving in together as a couple will be nerve-wracking although after two years together sharing a room in the group house I think it will be ok. My partner believes it will leave him friendless but I think the opposite – it will encourage him to see more people more often than just relying on the people he lives with for entertainment and to go places with. I know that he knows people in the area, admittedly not as many as before, but he doesn’t get in contact with them. He’s as bad as I am! I hope it gives me a kick in the arse to do more things for myself too, both in meeting people to hang out with and in working on my personal projects. *sidenote: I am working on the design of my third cross stitch*

Choosing a house to live in will be difficult. It’s not something either of us have done for several years. It will also be the first time we’ve had a real grown up rental and not a student rental, which isn’t that weird because there are people with mortgages at our age but does mean we’ll have to get references, proof of employment and possibly credit checks. We will also have to find a house accepting of moggits. I have been looking on house ads and many of them say ‘no pets’. Some of them say ‘furniture optional’ which I think will be best: if it’s not their furniture they shouldn’t mind if the cat stratches it. We shall see how easy this is when we try to estate agents.

This is all of course in addition to the housing crisis that is currently afflicting the property market. Now I can have my very own little housing crisis.

#sad# stress and effort. I wish I could afford to buy but I have very little savings and a small pay packet (for low stress, good experience work which I like). Significant other doesn’t have a job at all which makes it worse, for I may have to do the whole thing in my name.

On the plus side, with the £4 we will have left over at the end of this we will be able to buy our very own furniture! #oh gods#

Everything is useful

June 9, 2008

It is a commonly held superstition that all the little things you learn and save will one day be useful in some way. I was overwhelmed by this feeling earlier when in reading I came across the word ‘prestidigitator’ and remembered my dad teaching it to me 15 years ago and it occured to me that if he hadn’t I wouldn’t have known what it meant. It also took 15 years for a single instance of the word to crop up before my avidly book loving self, but when it did it was so worth it.

The cat recovered, incidentally.

Harold and Kumar was a great success, it was great to see a buddy movie that is both funny and features intelligent, articulate characters without them being geeks.

Peanut butter jelly time

June 6, 2008

If I had a choice, that would be my lunch. As it stands (or as I sit) lunch is beetroot soup. It’s good soup, I really can’t knock the quality of it, I just fancy a bit of PB&J.

After yesterday’s massive expulsion of energy trying to get as much work done as possible before asking for an extension today I have been unable to do anything. Untrue, I wrote one line that finished a section which allowed me to tick off one box. I wanted to or rather I should do five boxes today but it’s fairly safe to say that ain’t gonna happen.

Damn this apathy. It’s probably repressed concern for the cat’s pyrotechnic stomach – I woke to the sound of chunder, while I breakfasted she politely declined in favour of a bumsplosion, then before I left she reversed (cats don’t reverse btw, they turn round or fall over) between the recycling crates and brought up some bile that looked very similar to the parsnip foam I had once at a wedding. One of her eyes was a bit weepy but that may have been from the smell. She is a poor sickly baby. I am glad I can rely on my partner to fawn over her all day and try to feed her water and flakes of tuna. I hope she is well enough to leave alone for a few hours this evening as we are planning to go to the cinema. I have chosen to believe that she has eaten something foul and is not ill and will be back to her annoying face-poking-at-5am self shortly. After all, if you’re going to get up at 5am it might as well be in June when the sun is out.