Gosh. It's been a while, but I always do come back.
I've been missing writing, and I want to pick it up again.
Right now it's tricky, because it's Christmas, and I'm listening to Cabin Pressure with my family. So I can't concentrate. Despite how often I multitask, I am not very good at it. Nor are you, actually. Multitasking is one of the great lies; we have finite resources for attention, and splitting that up between multiple tasks decimates the amount of energy we can dedicate to each. This is one of those times when the whole is truly less than the sum of its parts.
I would like to address my most recent post of a little over a year ago (making this, I think my longest hiatus yet). I was depressed! It kicked in again in November this year, and I couldn't work out what was wrong, until I brought my blog up. "All this has happened before, and all this will happen again," as the saying goes. It helps to remember that.
The doc's prescribed me a whole bunch of anti-allergy stuff, and I'm feeling in better health than I have done in a very long time. And feeling well in body has left me feeling well in mind! So that's been awesome! I'm getting a bit of the seasonal malaise, but (today aside) I've been eating far better lately. Let's try and work some exercise into that, and we'll be away.
Friday, 25 December 2015
Gosh. It's been a while, but I always do come back.
Tuesday, 2 December 2014
Work has been objectively stressful lately, but I don't think that's entirely why I'm struggling. All my copes are gone, you know the feeling. SAD or summat.
This is good, that I'm doing this. It's been a long time. I've been at least 3 entirely different people since I started writing this blog. School Anna and girlfriend Anna and whatever the heck I am now.
Howard, thanks so much for your comment, I definitely want to catch up soon! I keep meaning to carve time out of my reluctant schedule to do so. It's difficult, but not impossible - think obsidian rather than bedrock!
What would be nice, in the middle of winter, is if you could open a door into summer. Sometimes that's all I need, just an hour or so of summer that can walk into. Someone else's summer. One where there's grass.
Sunday, 30 November 2014
I'd like to tell you that a lot has changed since I last posted, but in truth, things are much the same. I sympathise very much with Alice:
"Well, in our country," said Alice, still panting a little, "you'd generally get to somewhere else—if you run very fast for a long time, as we've been doing."I've been running in place for quite a while now, and I'm not sure how to achieve escape velocity.
"A slow sort of country!" said the Queen. "Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!"
I told myself, a couple of years ago, that I would find the Thing I'm meant to b doing when I was 27. That I'd work out what I can contribute to the world, and what would make me happy, before a completely arbitrary date: New Year's Day 2015. That, if I didn't have some kind of revelation before then, I'd do something drastic to change my circumstances.
Drastic change can be very good, very healthy. The frame of mind I've been in lately, I have not been thinking of good change. I can't put it into words well, but if I can't find some way to be happy soon, my 'drastic change' might be to give up, I don't want that.
It's hard sometimes to believe that I can get on the right path, but I hear that, with practice, one can believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast.
Saturday, 24 August 2013
Sometimes you don't know what you've been missing until you're in the middle of it.
Tonight I caught up with a lot of very good friends. Many of us apologised to everyone for 'being antisocial lately.' It happens so easily sometimes, doesn't it; you're busy for a bit, or fancy some alone time, and the next thing you know you haven't seen some of your favourite people for months.
I've been very lonely and I don't think I saw a way out of that until tonight.
A couple of weeks ago I went home to visit my family. We did the usual Cowes Week things - beach barbecue, fireworks, catching up with my oldest friends - while thinking about how it might be very different next year. Dad's retiring, so a lot of things might have changed when I next go back.
One moment stands out though: it was so wonderful to swim in the sea again. It was the first time I've been swimming since... maybe over a year ago? Could be two. A long time. As I squeaked about the cold and inched my way deeper in, my sister said the sea had missed me, that it had been waiting for me to come back.
The thing that surprised me, both tonight and back on the island, was being reminded that there are other people who think like me. Whether it's my friend Zaru encouraging me to perform my poetry soon, or my brother Michael chatting to me about quantum physics, it's been a blessed relief to be around people who are interested in things that interest me. I don't get that at work.
I work with good people, kind people, but I don't have much common ground with them. I know nothing about football or reality TV, and am too scared to go digging for something real to talk about. So I've felt alienated. At first I thought they were a bit weird, but in the absence of anyone with whom to talk about that, the thought gradually became "I am completely abnormal."
Well, normal is all in the context. These people, my family and friends, are the context in which I make sense. They are my normal. They are my home.
Monday, 29 July 2013
My left hand is spasming. I don't want to be resting up for work, I want to be writing. I want to spend every minute working on outliving myself. There are caves where you can hear and see the northern lights sing. I know this is true. Just like I know that if you hold your breath and step sideways, if you do it at just the right angle, you can go somewhere different. People at work keep telling me how intelligent and creative I am, and I keep telling them it's a shame that doesn't matter here, it's a pity that doesn't help. The surface of the moon and the ocean floor are the same place, and both have deep and heavy lakes full of terrors. I was tired five hours ago. I should have slept then. Instead I want a pen and paper bedsheets, instead I want to keep going until something worth saying falls out of my hand, until I can fall asleep knowing I'll respect myself in the morning, until I can tell the imaginary Neil in my head what I've come up with and imagine him smiling in imaginary pride. "Not a bad start," I imagine he'd say. "Now actually write it, and you'll really have something." Damn you, imaginary Neil. You're always right. My last resting place will be beneath a willow tree. I know, but don't know how I know. I hope there will be a bridge at least, and someone to lead me across.
Tuesday, 23 July 2013
Tuesday, 16 July 2013
For Jill, because she was interested.
"And I'm a million different people from one day to the next" - The Verve, Bittersweet Symphony
Who knows. Maybe by then I'll be too old and too wise to be embarrassed of my fascination with my own changing self.
Thursday, 2 May 2013
Fairly self-explanatory? No? Ok, apparently this one needs further elaboration.
Jenny Lawson, wonderful and strange, offered a copy of her book to a random commenter on her blog. "What should you comment about? Anything. Your favorite toe. The pet names of your body parts. How many glass eyeballs you think a normal person uses in a lifetime. The number of bodies you can fit under your bed. It’s totally up to you," she said, and so...
I was showing a friend around Cardiff yesterday. She's recently moved to this fair city, and I wanted to show her everything exciting and good that it has to offer. We swung by the Cardiff Fashion Quarter to introduce her to my lovely and talented friend Laura Pickering, who recommended that we wander around Bute Park, seeing as how it was such a lovely day.
It was such a lovely day, guys.
At some point, I got my ukulele out in a quiet area and started strumming one of the few I know by heart. A woman approached us. Now, I'm woefully naive at the best of times, but even I know that someone who's walking unsteadily, missing teeth, and alarmingly thin is either an addict or a zombie. (From that perspective, this story could have gone far worse for me.)
She opened with "You can't play." I smiled politely and said something self-deprecating, probably "I know I'm not very good, but -"
"Let me have a go."
So, I took a gamble, thinking she'd take refusal as an insult and hoping that she'd get bored fairly quickly. Above all, I hoped she didn't smash it. (Spoilers: if she'd smashed it, I wouldn't be writing this - I'd be cackling madly on the news while a man in a suit said "my client has no comment at this time" to the cameras.)
She twanged the A-string, pulling it out of tune, and shakily tapped her cigarette ash into the body of the uke.
Now, my friend, as she's pointed out to me, has lived in London and dealt with worse. God bless her, I don't know how she had the fortitude, but she stood straight away to ask for - and then take - my uke back. And she had to fight for it, too.
The woman struggled with her and called her a fat bitch a few times, while my friend said "would you please leave us alone," politely but firmly. She eventually did walk off, and I went to a music shop to buy the uke some strings as an apology. I should have known better. I am sometimes, as I said, woefully naive.
So, that's that! I apologise for the long period of silence. I got scared away from my blog because of something I can't talk about, and in all honesty I only came back because this one was too long to tweet. But there it is, Tony. She left, everyone's fine, and my friend reassured me that I should forget about it, so I think I will.
Saturday, 22 December 2012
+Anthony Ashfield Well heck dang, look what I can do! +Paul Roth holla.
This year we've had several apocalypses, and they've all ended with the same thing: sarcasm on twitter. But then, as sarcasm on twitter is the first response to any death, maybe they are one and the same, and we've all already gone to the big snark in the sky.
I have been watching so many Let's Plays lately. I blame +Michael Fruen. Mike, look at this tomfoolery:
Wednesday, 12 December 2012
I can't make it home for Christmas, and maybe for that reason I'm thinking about you guys so much.
Esther, thank you so much for the presents! I've had so many comments on my cute new bag, it's insane. Guys, look:
|it is ALL THE COLOURS|
Michael, I've been watching your Minecraft Let's Plays with John and I'm really wishing we could hang out, and that you could teach me the basics of that dang game. I know I'm late getting into it. I'm late getting into everything. You remember how long it took me to discover (let alone finish) Portal? Too long.
Judi, it means that world to me that you came up to visit. I had a really great time shopping with you, and I miss y'all a lot less now as a result of that day. Also, I love my badass new reversible skirt (again, CHECK IT).
|Look 2! Aww yiss|
P.S. Uncle Steve, have a very happy birthday! John, Paul, I wanna hang out with you guys soon. Julia, I think you're partially responsible for my life-long love of purple.
P.P.S. Cousins on my dad's side, of which there are many: every time I find out what you've been up to lately, I get all smug because I'm related to awesome people. Keep kicking your various kinds of ass.
P.P.P.S. Nanny, thanks for recognising me even with purple hair. Granddad, thanks for looking after her. I know you won't read this, but I love you both.