What a palaver

What a strange day. Called someone out on a lazy sexist stereotype, in a civil way that totally left it open for discussion, and she told me to fuck off and left the way open for anyone who agreed with her to weigh in which they duly did. Wil's right; it's clearly troll season.



NEVER MIND HAVE A PUG THAT CAN'T RUN

 

A letter to Laura*

*names have been changed to protect the innocent, the guilty, and me.


You know, there’s a saying about the Queen that she must think everywhere smells like fresh paint. The world turns itself inside-out for her, and she must just think it’s normal. You’re a lot like that, Laura. You must wander through life thinking that men fall in love at the drop of a hat, but that’s not how things are, that’s just you. Men just fall in love with you. I’m not blaming you for that; you can’t help it, but the way you handle it leaves them broken, no good for anybody else.

And I’m cursed to have the same taste in men as you, and to watch them mooning over you while you dance over their fucking hearts. Eventually, maybe, one of them will realise that they’ll never have you, and will settle for me. But why should that be enough for me? Should I make peace with never being their first choice? I don’t want to go for your sloppy seconds. I’d much rather not. But still, when these sweet, kind men get tossed aside by you, sometimes I reach out to them for a moment before realising that you’re still not done. You still aren’t finished with them. So what do I do? I back the fuck off as you pull them back in, because I don’t want to make things even more complicated, and watch you complicate it all by yourself.

I don’t think I owe you a confession, but here it is anyway: I really, really liked your ex. He was coming out of your two-year relationship with his self-esteem hitting rock bottom. I had just broken up with my partner of three years and needed some comfort. So we kept each other company some nights – just that, no funny stuff – and I did the tactful thing and made sure not to mention it around you. It would have been cruel to say anything. But how much of that was fear and guilt?

Do you remember the night we went out dancing at the Welsh Club? Rach kept saying that she really, really liked your ex, but there’s no way she could do that to you, because you were friends. Imagine how that made me feel. You broke down in tears that night and said you wanted to kill yourself; it’s the first time you’d admitted missing him. I decided then and there that I wouldn’t be spending the night with him again, and I felt a calmness and clarity of purpose in that decision. I made you my priority. Bros before hoes.

It was different when Alex kissed me. You hadn't been together that long anyway, and it was after you'd been broken up for a while. He’d already asked me to clarify what I meant when I said I was “very fond” of him, and we’d both made it clear that it wasn’t worth complicating things over. I never pursued him. The kiss was a surprise, as much to him as to me, I think. It was nice. We were hanging out at the metal night the guys were running for a while. Alex is good company.

I don’t need to apologise for Mark. Nothing happened between us, nothing at all, and that’s not for lack of trying on my part. You knew I like him, but he’s crazy about you so you went for it. I’d probably have done the same damn thing in your position. Or in his, for that matter. It could have been a good thing! For both of you! It could have been fun and sweet and uncomplicated, but you’ve already begun lying and hiding and being reckless with his health as well as his feelings.

You’re magic. That’s why they fall in love with you. You dance like you’re made of music and you dress like you’re not afraid of anything, but I’ve never known anybody more scared.

So, yeah, I’m jealous. And I’m angry. But most of all I’m frightened, because when you hurt these men you hurt yourself too. Don’t do anything stupid, okay? Come home safe.



Yeah, dude. Yeah it is.

Wandering away from the wreckage, whistling

Oops.

It turns out I have a remarkable talent for saying exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time. It's happened before, sure, but never quite this spectacularly...

One of my housemates (T) has been increasingly difficult to live with lately. Yesterday she stormed in, once again demanded to know "Who's going to do the washing up, then?" (There was hardly anything there, and it had been there a couple of hours at most) and I said "We thought we'd all hold hands and close our eyes and maybe it would do itself." Well. I'm sure you're all thinking the exact same thing I am: "That was very silly, Anna." Yes. Yes it was.

She yelled at me - she yelled at all of us - and I instantly felt guilty. So I went into the kitchen to apologise, but she just wasn't having it. Someone else decided to have a "house discussion" in the hope of airing some of our grudges in a sensible, mature fashion - but T wasn't having that either. Then, the shouting.

I have never heard my housemates so angry, and they're all pretty fiery. Not being great with confrontation, I just sat on the sofa hiding my face and crying while they yelled and stormed and slammed doors and threatened to move out.

Luckily, when everyone had left and I was still shaking and crying on the sofa (what can I say, I'm kind of a wuss), Arthur came in and gave me a hug and talked to me about stuff. That kept me sane. Then, when Ali came downstairs, clearly shocked and upset at what she'd overheard, he did the same for her.

I would have forgiven her, you know. I would. But T has a way of talking herself out of forgiveness. Have you ever heard of a nonpology? In this case, it took the form of "I'm sorry I shouted, I shouldn't have, but you guys REALLY need to start showing more respect and pulling your weight and I won't stand for being treated this way" - with no gap in the interim for me to say a) All is forgiven or b) Kindly attempt cranio-rectal insertion.

I could not be more relieved that I'm going home tomorrow. Sweet, undramatic Isle of Wight - you're always there for me. Happy Christmas, dramahouse.

Today's interesting thing is the BBC interview with Jody McIntyre, the guy I mentioned in this post.

An abundance of blech

I'm sat at home feeling very sorry for myself today. I don't have uni on Thursdays, y'see, so it wasn't the best day to come down with a cold. Colds are the worst, aren't they? They're only just bad enough to ensure constant misery and nose-leakage (reason #3340 why I will never be a sex-symbol).

Add to that the constant, inescapable DRAMA that seems to be brewing everywhere, and you get a very mopey Anna who is confined to quarters. And hungry.

On the plus side, however, as I don't like to get too negative, I've got the option (should the misery become too much) of calling my emergency cuddle-dispenser round tonight. He's offered to cook me some food.

Well, look, there's no sense in wallowing is there. What I'll do now is log off all social networking sites, put some good music on, get changed out of my pyjamas and tidy up. That way, tonight, when I get my food and sympathy, at least today won't have been a total waste.

Oh hey, so, looking back I see I never mentioned Haberdashery? How can I have been so remiss! This is a surrealist-steampunk video made by Boh3m3. His website's not currently working, but for all that he's one of my favourite bloggers / vloggers / weblebrities (shudder).

Like everybody else, when I don't know what else to do, I seem to go in for catching colds.  - George Jean Nathan

Every journey starts with a single blog post about how you intend to take a step

Few things are as painful as the horrible realisation of your true self. All the little personality flaws, all the foibles that your closest friends and family know only too well (and like you too much to point out). In fact the only thing I can think of right now that is MORE horrible than that, is when you have to do something about it.

So here, in the privacy of my own public blog, I've decided to confess to a few of my faults with the express intention of weeding them out of my personality.

ONE.
If there is no drama in my life, I will create some. I'm nowhere near as bad as I used to be, with my weekly breakdowns at Soul Cafe where people would need to reassure me about all aspects of my body and personality, but I'm still pretty bad. Take Gavin for example. Occasionally - up to and including this weekend - I'll continue crying at him because it takes a lot more effort to calm down and be rational about things. This is clearly unacceptable.

TWO.
When I say I'll do something, I mean I may or may not and it certainly won't be soon. Despite my many layers of organisation - both an online and physical diary, phone reminders, www.rememberthemilk.com etc. - I still find ways of postponing pretty much everything. This comes down to poor time management; something that I will have to keep very tightly in check when university starts again. If it starts again. Oh God.

THREE.
I must, must, MUST work myself back into sensible sleeping habits. I've seen the wrong side of dawn far too many times in the past week, now being a prime example. If I am to have any hope of catching a worm, ever, I must stop relying on the blackout blind to provide me with an artificial night.

So! You may all bear witness to this pledge to better myself. I shall start tomorrow with a reasonable rising time (i.e. actually in the morning), a healthy breakfast, and a tidying spree.

Why can't I improve myself in a montage? Montages are easy. Rocky got a damn montage.

Plans for Festivus

It's amazing how much I've missed in the short time I've been away. All the drama continued without me, only (according to my sources) worse because I wasn't there to calm everyone down! I completely believe it. But I say that without a trace of arrogance, because if I was really that great I'd have taught them to be sensible for themselves. Never mind, I'm sure they'll sort it out, and everyone will be talking to everyone else again in no time.

In case I don't have time to update the blog over the coming few days, this is the plan: my boy comes down to the Isle of Wight tomorrow afternoon, we will go for a meal with my friends from school on Saturday, we'll head up to his family on Sunday, spend Christmas there, go up to his friends for New Year's, then I'll come back here and then return to Plymouth. I'd much rather not go back to Plymouth.
Not because it sucks, just because I still don't belong there. Meh, never mind.

Still! Thank goodness I'm seeing my boy soon, been missing him like CRAZY. It has been... 2 1/2 weeks? My gosh. That's not really very long, although it certainly feels it. Long distance relationships are hard... it would only be worth it for him.

Interesting Thing Of The Day: The procrastination flowchart.