chaletian: (Default)
OK, seriously, wtf is this, universe? Did I kill a beautiful child in a former life? What? Please explain to me why my life this week has been so fucking unbearable. To cap off all the other shit that has happened, tonight my wallet was stolen, something which, under the circumstances and in the context of my aforementioned week of raining shit, I think I suffered with admirable calm and aplomb. But now I've just discovered that my monthly travelcard, barely a week old, was on an oystercard that, it turns out, isn't actually registered. So that's £60 worth of travel down the fucking drain which I can ill afford. Plus I've lost my wallet itself, which was lovely and is fairly irreplaceable, and I was late to the theatre because I was faffing around the police station. A pointless exercise, frankly. I cannot lie, LJ: I am genuinely struggling to cope with life at the moment. And I'm PMTed up to the eyeballs on my everfuckinglasting period, and I just need life to get back to some semblance of normality and me to get back on an even keel because I hate feeling so out-of-control like this.

ETA: And my keyboard did something stupid and posted that when I wasn't ready. And my yahoo mail won't work properly at work so I can't reply to anything or forward or start a new message or search.

Trying to be cheerier, we went to see A Woman Killed With Kindness at the National, which really was very good (though I missed the start). Interesting play, and the staging was absolutely super - best I've ever seen, I think.

Meep

Jun. 5th, 2007 10:36 am
chaletian: (edelweiss)
OK, is it stupid to be *this* scared about QMing for pack holiday at the weekend? I'm sorting out the shopping list, and there's just so much to get, and so many to cook for (thank god we've only got a fraction of the Brownies, frankly, or my brain would melt), and I'm a bit worried that it's all going to go hideously wrong, because although I can cope with a few people, I've never catered for nearly 20 at a go, not for proper meals, anyway, and it's a bit terrifying. Well, no. Quite a lot terrifying, frankly. And underneath I rationally think it's probably going to be fine, and if it goes a bit pear-shaped, well, so be it, and it's not like the Brownies are going to starve. And Katie will be there to act the part of anti-kitchen-spaz when need be. But still. Yes. Scared. And I've worked out to the slice how much bread we'll need, and exactly how much fruit, and logically how much fruit juice etc, and then I add a bit more for safety's sake, but I don't really trust the end result, which is ABSURD because if there's one thing I *can* do, it's basic arithmatic. Oh, Xanthe, please don't hate me if I fuck it all up. And don't worry, because it probly will all be fine. Because see above re me being quite stupid.
chaletian: (p+p mr collins shelves)
1. Happy Birthday, [livejournal.com profile] pim2005!!! Hope you have a nice day, and life isn’t too annoying.

2. Supernatural should be, as we speak, downloading away. I am foolishly, foolishly, looking forward to this week’s episode. What with the boys being in prison last week, and this week’s, it’s like all our fangirl dreams have come true…

3. Went to see HIGNFY being filmed last night, which is always joyous. Some moments of genius, none of which I can now remember, obviously (although LOL at the warm-up woman’s “What? You don’t speak Latin? Oh, that worked on so many levels….”)

4. I read an essay by Orwell (Politics and the English Language) on the way to work, about, well, politics. And the English language. Oddly. It was very interesting, espesh with the parallels with modern political speechifying/punditry. Huh. Would recommend – I think I’ve seen it about online somewhere – think there might be a link from his Wikipedia page (incidentally, how much is Wikipedia just the best site ever?).

5. I know the fate of the leadership of the Labour Party is more or less writ in stone, and Tony Blair has pretty much announced that Gordon Brown will be the next PM (heee, they showed a clip of him addressing some people, and he so clearly didn’t want to have to say it, v funny). Still, call me a hopeless idealist, but can’t they even *try* to keep up the pretence that the party will vote on it? Preserve some of our out-moded democratic ideals? Maybe?

6. Katie and I are clearly psychic. Oh yes.

7. I am very, very broke at the moment, and have been all year, basically. It’s rather unsettling. Just as I think I’ve taken everything into account with my budgeting etc, some giant new thing appears that I have to pay, and it’s so *demoralizing*. How do I manage to be so crap? *Theoretically* in a month or so I should be back to normal, but I’m actually rather pessimistic about this being the case. *lesigh* Once again with the hating of the filthy lucre. And myself, for being so hopeless at coping with it.
chaletian: (uncle meh)
The crap thing about Oxbridge is that it’s such a notable achievement to get in (for most people), such an important mark in one’s career in life, that leaving becomes an equally – if not more – important mark. It’s such a defining thing. Most of the time I don’t care that I didn’t graduate from university, because I bop around in my life and it’s quite jolly, and I think that generally I made the right decision at the time. But God, I do regret it sometimes. And I think it’s mostly in a melancholy, sentimental kind of way, because I wanted so desperately to go, and because the concept of ‘Oxford’ had been such a part of what I read and so forth, but I wish that I could have experienced Oxford the way they do in books, and as so many people seem to do in real life, rather than as I did, which was mostly mulching around being fabulously depressed and living in some sort of crazy dreamworld bubble type thing. And I read books or articles that interest me, or see a play, or watch a TV programme, and I have such a yearning to study it, but I *don’t* and I know that I never will, because I never seem to quite want it enough to do anything about it, and any attempts at independent study have been abject failures, because I have no self-discipline. If I hadn’t been depressed, would I have managed to graduate? I don’t know. I certainly had the brains for it – even at my most self-loathing, I never really doubt that (except for that one time, Xanthe!) – but I don’t know if I had the commitment. I think I probably would have done, out of habit if nothing else. I’d have got a second class degree, probably a 2.ii, because I’ve always been a bit lazy, and known that if I’d really worked hard, I could have got a First. But I went a bit mad and sort of lost touch with reality, and that was that.

Posner lives alone in a cottage he has renovated himself, has an allotment, and periodic breakdowns. He haunts the local library… and has a host of friends, though only on the internet and none in his right name, or even gender. He has long since stopped asking himself where it went wrong.

I may stop listening to The History Boys now. It is depressing me ever so slightly.

ETA - Sorry to keep banging on about this time after time. Still, that's sort of the point. It's hard to let it go completely. Pants.
chaletian: (Default)
1. We went to see Russell Howard on Wednesday. It was brill. Very funny, although I now sadly cannot remember anything he said. Laughed my giant mutant head off, though.

2. Apparently we’re off to climb Mount Snowdon on 16-18 March. As a department. I am unconvinced by this plan, mainly because, although in my head I enjoy hiking and what have you, I feel in practise it is not the Best Plan Ever. Because I’m used to being able to bop around and be hike-y (having done it all the time, on protest, as a child), but actually the sad fact is that I’m not quite so boppy, on account of being tremendously unfit. But I think it’s one of those things that in terms of being part of the team etc I kind of have to go on.

3. Ye gods, I’m paranoid at the moment. I mean, I’ve always been a bit paranoid, but now I’m taking it to extreme lengths. It’s like a peculiar kind of egocentricity: I’m convinced that as soon as I leave a room the people in it will be talking about me. I really hate this, but I’m not sure how to sort it out.

4. I seem to have turned into some species of fic monster. This is a bit strange, but I’m sort of proud of it. I was quite pleased with my Life on Mars effort.

5. Ah, TV.
i. Heroes. God, I love that programme. There was a very interesting situation developing in the Bennett household at the end of the last ep, and I fear for Mohinder…
ii. Life on Mars. This show rocks. I love English TV.
iii. Hotel Babylon. I had forgotten, between the last series and this, how much I love this programme. It’s incredibly stupid and fluffy, but so deeply satisfying at the same time. Yesterday’s ep was *genius*.

6. I came *this* close to solving the ‘difficult’ su doku in thelondonpaper. Rah. I am a logical person (a meme told me so *g*), and yet I am completely crap at logic puzzles. This makes me cross.

7. We have run out of chocolate cupcakes. Si triste. I shall make some more at the weekend.
chaletian: (heroes checkmate)
Something interesting happened today. Well, interesting is probably stretching it a little.

Yesterday, I made about a million hip cards for patients. This involves cutting things up, sellotaping them, laminating them, and cutting around the finished product. My Blue Peter instincts were out in full force. So, I made these cards. And they turned out more or less OK. And I showed them to Claudia and Priscilla. And they both waxed lyrical about how well I’d done them. They got quite enthused about it.

Thing is, I didn’t think they were *that* good. I look at them, and all I can see is the slightly wonky lines that *should* be straight, and inconsistencies in the depth of the borders, and where I went round the corner in a way that isn’t a perfect quarter-circle.

I don’t think I’m a perfectionist, particularly. Cuz, you know, lazy and quite crap. This is, sadly, no secret. But it makes me think of my fundamental problem with life. Which is this:

I’m good at most things; good enough to know that I’m not good enough at any of them.

And OK, that’s not exactly the worst problem to have in the world. But it’s a bit crap, nonetheless, because I know that nothing I do is as good as lots of people could do. (And yes, my grammar is talking a bit of a swan dive here.) I’m gifted academically, but not particularly brilliant at any given subject. I play the flute reasonably well, but on an objective scale I’m rubbish; I can cook and bake well but not *really* well… there’s just a constant list of things that I’m not *really* good at. And it sounds *so* much like I love myself if I talk about it, because yes, I can do lots of things better than lots of people, but I don’t really care, because I know that I’m never going to be the best at anything. Is this making *any* sense at all? Probably not. I probably sound like a complete tit. As per. Oh, arse.

(NB – Have tagged this as slight mental instability just because it fits best there, not because I’m *overly* woeful about this – it is, after all, nothing new.)
chaletian: (Default)
Sometimes I look at what I've done with my life and despair. I went to Oxford University and yet I've managed to steer myself into a position where I alphabetise for a living. It's so humiliating.

Grr Argh

Jul. 6th, 2005 02:31 pm
chaletian: (Default)
Antoinette is driving me fucking insane. It can't be good, working somewhere where, for the past three years, you have regularly wanted to smack one of your colleagues...

Hmm. Eep.

Jun. 13th, 2005 04:47 pm
chaletian: (Default)
OK, I’m terrified, I admit it. I’m leaving my current job without technically having another job set up. I’ve got a plan. It’s a reasonable, sensible, thought-through plan. But nonetheless there is a possibility that I will get no work immediately and that would be exceptionally tricky. I’m scared. Possibly about to have a panic attack. Have I been a sensible grown-up or terminally stupid? I can’t make up my mind. Oh God, please don’t let me completely fuck this up.
chaletian: (Default)
Well, this was a shit morning. I got to the station in plenty of time to discover that both the Metropolitan and Jubilee lines were partially suspended. For those who are not completely au fait with the tube, basically the only way for me to get from Preston Road to London Bridge with any kind of directness is, er, by the Metropolitan and Jubilee lines. So, I took the northbound train to Harrow-on-the-Hill, with the cunning intention of taking a mainline train straight to Marylebone, only one didn’t come, so I thought it might be wiser to take a southbound Met train to Baker Street and faff around a bit down there (also in the hope that the Jubilee line would get its act together). Well, that worked, but at Baker Street I couldn’t actually get on the Bakerloo platform, so had to walk to Regents Park to get the southbound Bakerloo. My cunning plan at that stage was to change at Waterloo, where the Jubilee line was supposed to resume southbound service, but it occurred to me that that was in fact a Bad Plan as everyone and his dog would be getting on plus inevitable huge delays. So I changed at Charing Cross instead and got the mainline train to London Bridge. And only 45 minutes late. Golly.

So having gone through all that palaver (and telephoning the centre where I was supposed to start my training course at 9.30), I shopped up at MSH only to be told that the course I was supposed to be on in fact started yesterday. So I had to go away. All hugely embarrassing. I want to go and cry in a toilet. I was quite tempted just to skive work completely, but that would be a Naughty Thing To Do, so I didn’t. But I stopped off at Starbucks on the way, on the basis that I damned well deserve nice breakfasty things.

I hate London Underground.
chaletian: (Default)
Mwa ha ha. See how I take over both the NCC and FOCS mags. Yes indeedy. I finally got my FOCS mag yesterday, and spent some time stroking my name, for it was indeed exciting. In fact, speaking of, I mun fax it to my mother (and yes, I am v.v. sad) ut share the excitement.

What gets me about the Verity-Ann/Mary-Lou sitch, though, is when in Reunion, speaking about her mother’s death, Mary-Lou says that she doesn’t have any family left, save Clem, who is as good as a sister. Um, what about Verity, dear? You know, your step-sister. Not that you ever call her that, for some reason unknown to me. And frankly, the impression I got in some of the later ML books was that they weren’t even in the same circle of ‘close’ friends. Bum for Verity. Spurned on all fronts.

Also, I have come to an important realisation about my character. The reason I have been completely useless at work the past couple of weeks is because my house situation has been in a complete mess. My room was in chaos – filled with boxes and crap to the extent that I could not walk across it. Literally. There was some very complicated choreography going on if I wished to reach the window, and frankly I wasn’t bothering. Not at all healthy for my delicate little psyche. So, yesterday I unpacked lots and tidied away and generally made everything clean and sweetly smelling and dandy so that once again I am super-productive and have done lots of work. So, note to self: keep things more or less under control at home and all will be well. I’m not joking, Self. This is Very Important.

I am still distraught about my lack of vikingness. Maybe if I encourage a sense of bloodlust and a passion for pointy horns (please no-one comment on that), I will do better next time. I strive for vikingness.

Senni Firpen.

June 2016

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