Half assed pledge to do less whining

Ebbs and flows, ups and downs.

Last week I felt great about myself and shit about where my life was going.

Today I feel shit about myself and not too worried at all about my life.

I have a lot of friends, a lot of people I enjoy, I’m still young enough to start something new and then when is anyone too old for anything? Whenever I beat myself up about my life and where I am it’s because I’m comparing myself to other people- other people whose lives I wouldn’t want anyway. I’d happily take their friday night putting 60 euros into a pub till without thinking is that nice wine too expensive, how will I pour this naggin of whiskey into my empty glass without anyone noticing, should I leave now or how will I get home, I can’t afford a taxi? 

I’d take THAT part of their lives. But I wouldn’t put in the 35 hours a week of sitting on a swivel chair in an air conditioned room for minimum wage and someone else’s interests. 

I wouldn’t do it for long anyway. 

I had a dream last night I was in a call centre and I was so fucking miserable throughout the dream. I had a dream a few nights ago that my parents’ dog and cat had turned rabid and wanted to kill me and I spent the whole night trying to lock my pets in a room without hurting them while they tried to tear chunks out of me. And that wasn’t my worst recent nightmare, the call centre one was much worse. 

I should stop eating cheese so late at night and maybe have a nice sex dream instead.

And then lately I’m getting sick of sex. Not sex itself, just the… I’m getting sick of the people I don’t care about. I found myself having sex with my fuckbuddy recently purely because I had eaten a lot of cheese that day and I don’t want to get fat. I enjoyed the sex but frankly the cheese was a lot better. I’d give up sex and just eat cheese all day except the two must go together or I’ll be fat. But then would I even need to be skinny if I was just living a sexless life with only the cheese witnessing my flabby midriff?

I’m not having any deep thoughts here. GOOD. FUCKING GOOD! 

I’ve decided to stop being so morose all the time and just shut all the bad thoughts away and be happy because my life is totally sweet right now and if I occasionaly got up off my arse I could make something wonderful with my time.

I’m doing a little bit of work for my dad’s business online and it turns out when I don’t have to deal with customers face to face or get up early I’m actually quite motivated with this retail thing. It’s not much money- shit, it’s barely any money. But it’s good to do something and it’s good to feel like I’ve done something useful and even a hundred quid is a fucking big bonus for me right now.

I’m going to buy a pair of shoes because at the moment I only have two pairs of shoes.

Two pairs of wearable shoes. I have lots and lots and lots of shoes but they are all high heel deals which I bought when I had lots of money and a little less sense. I only have more sense now because having very little money is great for sharpening the wits. You start to find savings everywhere.

I’ve always been a massive snob about mould. But when it’s me buying the bread and me paying for the bins (well, no, it’s me trawling the streets at night looking for a skip to throw my bins into, but still.) then it’s a different story. Yesterday I scraped mould off three bits of bread and ate the bread and it tasted exactly the same as normal bread. And I probably killed an infection, I’m bound to have some kind of infection.

And then there’s cooking, if I just cut back on elaborate grocery shops for making myself special treats all the time I could afford nice wine and a pair of shoes. 

Anyway. Main thing is, I’m going to stop being such a crybaby about being poor and lonely because I’m poor because I choose not to earn a shitty wage doing a shitty job, and I’m lonely because I choose to live alone and I like living alone 85% of the time.

End of.

No more whining. I’m a grown up! YES I AM!

(This is me psyching myself up, it’s not a statement of fact)

Confirmation of adulthood, without the snippety snip

There are certain minor moments in life that catch you unawares- you realise you’re a grown up now, there’s no going back. I probably speak for myself here, because I was a messy irresponsible spoilt child. But I don’t care, it’s going to be in the second person anyway… deal.

Offering to pay for your mother’s lunch as well as your own, and insisting- really insisting- not the fake insist that grows feeble and trails off after your mother says “no don’t be ridiculous..” and you slide your wallet back into your bag, trying not to smirk, but having earned the good daughter points anyway. She tries to argue this time, and you knock her back. You may even sneakily pay while she’s in the bathroom. And the space in your wallet that money used to occupy feels hollow and awful. You imagine dresses and alcohol you could have owned and enjoyed, and you slightly begrudge your mother having had the soup AND the fish when she didn’t even finish her bread. Then it occurs to you, that maybe when you were a kid and you had to have dessert every fucking time you ate… and you were a greedy monster too, maybe it pained her to part with her money too. Holy shit, you think…. I never want to be a parent. How come parents don’t beat you more often, the shit they put up with? What a horrible life…..

….Saying no, I’m fine, I don’t want any more ice cream. This is a kind of responsibility I’ve only recently dabbled with. But it’s haunting. I remember eating until sweets until I puked, and knowing I was going to puke and still eating more sweets because if I didn’t, I’d miss out on eating some sweets. And that could never happen. Now I look at sweets, knowing how much I prefer having a decent figure, and how brief the sugar rush will be… and inside, the greedy child dies a little……

……Cleaning your toilet. Maybe you were made do this as a child, maybe you had to as part of a nasty and unfairly balanced cleaning rota in your student digs, or maybe you do it without thinking about it. But the first time I actually got down on my knees of my own volition, without previously having vomited all over it, and cleaned my fucking toilet, it dawned on me that life would never be the same again. Admittedly, life has pretty much carried on as it always did, and I have only cleaned the toilet a few times since the first brush-weilding rite of passage… but still, every time I don the yellow gloves, I remember the life of carefree innocence before my toilet cleaning days, and shed a tear that is only partly revulsion-induced…..

…..Paying bills. Every time I pay for fucking electricity…. my heart breaks a tiny bit. I still half feel like I should be posting/mailing the bills to my mother, and she should be sorting it out for me. Electricity and gas and heating… they don’t feel like things I should have to pay for. It’s like, my mother never seemed to mind paying for grown up needs and utilities, so why won’t she take care of mine for me? But then it dawns on me, she must have hated paying for it as much as I do. Maybe that’s why I got so much shtick about leaving lights on and the stereo on standby instead of off, and leaving the door open when the heating was on. I get it now… Oh no wait, it wasn’t to save money, it was cause she’s a freaking hippie. but still. Paying for necessary costs of living… it destroys the soul. I don’t believe in souls, but if there’s one thing I’ll say for Christianity, they have some awesomely dramatic turns of phrase….

….The first time you’re sick, and there’s no one there to take care of you that honestly gives a crap. Or maybe that’s the same moment you realise, why the fuck did you get married anyways? Or they are a bundle of shitty moments along with being sick and missing your mommy and your husband DID make you soup but it’s not your mum’s make you feel good soup and he’s not picking up your tissues and he wants you to get better so you’ll shower and smell less funky, more than for your own sake and happiness. Or else you’re husbandless and it doesn’t matter if you smell gross but there’s not even any soup.

And that’s when you start believing the shit about childhood being the best days of your life.