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.

Making it verse

I'm hammering a poem into shape.

Last month, my university started a creative writing open mic night. I performed, and I'm going to say here what I haven't had the courage to say elsewhere: I'm actually really disappointed with how I did.

I hadn't known in advance that it was going to be competitive; I don't think many people did. I've never been a particularly competitive person, but once I knew that's how things were, I accepted it. I've been writing poetry since I was 14 or so, and I thought they were pretty good. What I hadn't thought about, however, is the huge difference between the verse you find in poetry collections, and the incredible passion and power of spoken word poetry.

I didn't expect to win, not once I'd seen Leeum perform. It was obvious to all of us, I think, that he is incredibly experienced at this; an extremely talented performance poet. From the beginning, when he spoke of "the rocks He told me not to throw," I was alert and listening more attentively than in any lecture. Anyway, my writer-crush aside, I didn't expect to win after that.

What sucked, and again this isn't something I'd happily talk about in person, is that I failed to come in the top four. Ben did. Ben, my housemate, came fourth with a poem I had helped him refine. It's a good poem, but Ben's a novelist now and poetry - well, poetry was always my thing. I was jealous. And disappointed. And when he confided in me, on leaving the cafeteria where the event took place, that he was disappointed he hadn't placed higher, I selfishly replied "Shut up, Ben. I can just about pretend that I don't mind not placing, but you have to pretend too." I'm not proud of this side of myself. Lately his success has been highlighting my insecurities, and through no fault of his own I've become a little bitter.

Since then, I've been working on one poem. Just one. Ordinarily I'd write two or three a day in one of my creative phases, but I'm trying so hard to get this one just right that I keep coming back to it and chiselling, refining, reshaping  and rewording it. And next time - on the 25th of November - Leeum's going to be compering, not competing, and I'll hopefully be in with a chance. And Ben - well, if I'm not better than him at something, I'm going to cut his dreads off while he sleeps.

(Just kidding. I would never do that.)

(Probably.)

I've been compiling this youtube playlist of my favourite spoken poems. By all means check it out! You might be surprised.

Sex pirates

Sorry I haven't posted much lately; my life has divided into boring things, and things I can't tell you. So to summarise: My housemates are mental, my friends are geeky and awesome, my ukulele playing is coming along well (I've written a song!) and my self-esteem is fluctuating wildly. I'd also like it noted for posterity that I coined the term 'sex pirate.'

Here's a video for you, if geeky ladies are your type! The link is, as always, going up on the left.


Geek and Gamer Girls Song - Watch more Funny Videos

OH! Also,an awesome thing has happened. If you watch Felicia Day's web series "The Guild," you might be interested to know that I emailed Cheesybeard's restaurant and got a response! The conversation is included below.

to   cheesybeards@cheesybeards.info date   15 September 2010 00:55 subject   Hello!

Hi! I'm expecting auto-reply, but if there's a real person dealing with these: nice work. I do love an effective social media presence (and ARGs, for that matter). All the best!

Anna

from   CheesyBeards Restaurant to date   15 September 2010 16:51 subject   Re: Hello!

Auto-reply? YOU MEAN I COULD HAVE SET IT SO THAT I DON'T HAVE TO DEAL WITH THESE COMPLAINTS MANUALLY??? I wish I knew this before.

Thanks,
CheesyBeards Management
--
CheesyBeards
http://cheesybeards.info
http://twitter.com/cheesybeards
http://facebook.com/cheesybeards

Ducks, rabbits, and ukuleles.

I have a new ukulele!

Yesterday was good, if a little odd. I met up with my ex for sushi, and we went for a bit of a wander around the lake. It was beautifully sunny, with a touch of fog in the distance, and I took a second to count my blessings as we ate ice-creams and laughed at the ducks wearing dog masks.

(Nightmare warning: this is why they wear dog masks.)

Back at my house, I finally introduced him to Colin the Rabbit, who had a very happy half hour wandering around the garden before utterly refusing to return to his hutch. If you've ever wanted to know what complete loss of dignity looks like, I imagine it's me running around a small paved garden after a bunny who is outwitting me at every turn.

Later on, after a brief pubwards excursion with the girls I live with, we met up with a mutual friend who mentioned he was selling a ukulele. Now, the uke I've been learning on since my birthday last year is pretty much the cheapest model you can get - a red mahalo soprano - and I've been intending for a while to upgrade if I stuck with it (which I have). So, far be it from me to pass up on such a serendipitous happenstance just because I really, really shouldn't be spending money right now. The new uke is BEAUTIFUL. I'm not sure if it's a soprano or a concert; I suspect the latter but the guy I bought it from didn't know anything about ukuleles. Like, anything at all. It was tuned wrong.

Some friends came over and we sat in the garden. I could see the stars. I love that about our garden; I didn't expect to see stars in the city like this, but there they are, whenever the sky's clear. After disappearing inside the house to play with my new instrument a couple of times, my lovely friends and housemates badgered me into performing for them, which I duly did. Long story short: I have to play at an open mic night in two weeks. Aaaaah *flail!*

I apologise for the lack of updates recently; this particular post was prompted by the lovely SufficeBlog.

Awkwardness and Clones

Imagine a house full of animals. They don't know which of their housemates are predators and which are prey. The only possible way to survive is to hide from all of them, and to show no fear in the event of an encounter. If it sounds like a terrible reality TV show, I understand. But the fact is, this is sort of what my life has been like lately...

Since moving into this house last summer, my housemates and I haven't really... gelled. I like them, but we don't talk much, and it's led to this peculiarly uncomfortable situation...

Maybe I can explain better.

On the rare occasions that I leave my room, I don't expect to see anybody else. I avoid the communal areas as much possible, and they do the same. As a result, whenever one of us sees another, there's a brief moment of paralysed terror, like a rabbit in headlights. I try to get over it as quickly as I can, squeaking out a quick "hi" sound before they can realise that I was utterly stunned to see somebody else in my house.

(It's not like I'm not fully aware that I'm living with six other people. Intellectually, I know this to be true. It's just that when confronted with another person, I instantly want to run and hide in my room.)

I know it's not just me, either. I know because, occasionally, I'll hear a click of someone's bedroom door opening as I walk to one of the bathrooms, but I won't hear footsteps until I'm safely hidden away.

To be frank, explaining it now, it sounds ridiculous. I know it's ridiculous. Several times I've been tempted to say "It's ok, I know you're there and you know I'm here, let's all just stop this charade!" but I don't. I don't because doing so would mean admitting that I've been playing this ridiculous game for eight months.

It's as if the Emperor has been strutting around naked for so long, that to admit to feeling the wind in his nethers is simply unthinkable. No, he must simply soldier on, and hope that he dies before anybody points out his nudity.

And, taking a leaf from the venerable Emperor's book, I am moving out in a few months anyway. Best to just pretend nothing unusual is going on. Best to keep my head down, and forage for food under cover of darkness.

Y'know, I'm so glad I never told any of them about this blog... If you don't hear from me again, one of them found this, and I killed either them or myself or both. It would be the only honourable way out.

In other news, I recently got sent some photos a friend and I took months ago... lookit! It's me, and me, and me!

Link splurge

Madness, have I really not posted for five days? Such deplorable laxity! Still, I like to think that since the revamp I've been living up to the blog's title at the very least. Sort of, a bit.

I'm currently feeling thoroughly useless and dithering like a professional ditherer; my housemate's had some bad news and, since I've spent a total of three minutes talking to him ever, I'm not really sure how to help. This isn't appalling social skills on my part, by the way - he's only just moved in. Still. Mental note: must make more of an effort.

I'd like to recommend Wet Lemon Animations as my interesting thing of the day, which is really cheating as there are several interesting toons on it. My favourite one isn't working, but it's on Weebl's Stuff: Colours has a beautiful storyline! Check out the portal song too, it's gorgeous. Have I recommended Jonathan Coulton to you yet? No?! Well the Portal song is one of his, and I can't recommend his songs enough. They're funny and beautiful, and some are free to download.

As always, the links will be going up in the sidebar for later reference.

While the cat's away

Gavin's been gone for three days, and I've been using the freed-up time to meet up with people, go out with housemates, and mope in my room. Mostly that last one. It's been a fairly good weekend, except for a very dramatic night last night in which I was extremely irrational and angry and frightened - never a good combination. Long story short, I was just worried about Gav because he was having an allergic reaction.

Friday night was vastly superior: I was hanging out with friends, kicked everyone's asses at Wii bowling, met someone new, discovered White Russians (which are now tied first with Baileys for best alcoholic drink ever), and wore my sexy shoes for no readily explainable reason.

Interesting thing of the day: a facemaker. I adore this thing, I have endless fun with it. Just search for faces by Thiefree to see what I've been up to with it!

Witterage is a good word

You know what, I've thought long and hard about it, and I've decided that buying chocolate eggs is a really arbitrary way of celebrating the resurrection. In addition, I haven't lost the extra squidge from all that Christmas chocolate yet! So I'm very sorry to inform Mr Cadbury's and all the rest of you that I won't be participating this year. If you're lucky I might make you something nice instead.

My housemates and I went to the pub quiz last night! We did ok, came over halfway which is an improvement on what we normally get, and our suggestion for the quiz's new name was chosen. So, yay, contributions! I was tempted to stay in and watch Lost again (I am an addict. Also, you just lost the game. But I didn't!!!) but I thought I'd prolong the agony and catch a repeat instead. Hooked though I may be on all that losty goodness - and the podcasts, heaven help me - it's high time I started having a social life again. Ah well, with any luck I'm out of here in a few months!

How very strange. I just wrote an email to gav and instead of the usual way I talk to him, I was talking in my blog-style. Peculiar. I wasn't aware I had a blog-style. Ah well, I can only assume that the boundless nature of my literary genius astounds even me. And I'm so freakin' modest too!!

So, yes, nothing terribly constructive today, but when is it ever. Thanks for enduring my witterage.

ITOTD: Online shopping discount codes. Never know when they might come in handy.

Various stuff and things!

Mouse #5 is a fast little blighter. Dark brown fur, and apparently uninterested in the food on the traps. I'm thinking of investing in a) an anvil or b) some black paint; (fake mouseholes of course! It'll run into the wall and concuss itself!) but I can't work out if the ACME website do deliveries.

There's been actual genuine sunshine today! I ventured, bleary-eyed, into the big wide world in less than a jumper for the first time in what feels like forever. I bought ice-lollies for all my housemates to celebrate the occasion.

"Some women wear foundation... other wear a sensation!" Adverts SUCK. I mean seriously. I dreamed a better advert last night. It involves an incredibly long twisty straw, and two colours of slushy liquid, carefully alternated to spell the company name when it's all been sucked through the contraption. Genius.

And, to complete the quartet of things that very few people are interested in, I'm currently watching Forrest Gump. Yay!