Down.... Get out!

I shouldn't feel crap right now, but I do. So much so that I have one of those stressy headaches. The ones that, at first, feel like a migraine (scaring me silly) but turn out to be just a reasonably bearable nuisance.

Technically, I'm more "happy" than I've been in a long time. After a year "out" (working), I've returned to college for a postgrad. And in IT, of all things! It's fantastic, very interesting so far, and full of nice people. Great Modules: Java Programming, a bit of Web Design, and - who knows - might be sucked back into the online world and start tending to this poor aul neglected blog again.

We'll see.

And I have a lovely new home, lovely new area, lovely new leather boots... Lots of "new"-ness. Fresh - exciting - hopeful - engaging - refreshing - etc. I feel like things are finally moving again. A stagnant year is over, and I only realised how discouraged and defeated I had been feeling when it hit me that I didn't have to wake up for WORK on Monday mornings anymore... but something far better.

Day 1 Journalism:
"50% of you won't make it to final year"
"Of those that do, most will have to move abroad for jobs"
"Of those that even get into journalism at all, very few will ever make a living wage on it alone"
(^pre-recession, btw!)

Day 1 Grad Dip in IT:
"Most of you might get offers before you graduate. Employers come to the graduation too, looking for CVs, but by then it can be too late."

In fairness, those journalism "facts" didn't turn out to be very accurate (we pretty much ALL got to final year, and a good chunk of my ex-class are working in the media and doing pretty impressive stuff. I'm not, but I was always a bit of an oddity.)
But, all the same, isn't that a reason to be happy? Isn't that enough to reassure me that I won't be an aimless drifter forever? That I can play it by ear, with confidence, from 'ere?

I read somewhere (?) that people have a certain "happiness level" that they default to, regardless of whether they win the lottery or land their dream job. It explained why money doesn't make people happy, etc. I worried about that for a while.
But... it's not exactly true. So, I stopped worrying about that, and started wondering why exactly it is that I'm unhappy now.

• It's not work. (My reduced hours have helped me find a new enjoyment for the job)
  
• It's not college. (It's only week 2 - but I love it)
  
• It's not fear of not getting a job. (I'm on a good track)
  
• It's not my relationship. (well, I hope not. We have little things to work on, but they're little. And nothing a good aul pow-wow won't fix next time we've a free evening.)
  
• ...?

But... my friends are all leaving the country. (Those that haven't left already, that is) My brother, and sister, and oldest friend, are gone now too. My other best friend's been gone over a year.
Those left in Limerick? I never see'm. I'm working every weekend.
I miss them all, terribly, and maybe that puts strain on my relationship, too. Suddenly, maybe, it feels like he's all I have; I'm putting more pressure on things to be "right"; I'm scared more when things aren't.
But it's more than that...
It's that I can't go!
The promise of a sure-thing at the end of my IT tunnel is both a huge reassurance, and a very, very scary realisation:
I never got my year out.
Never lived or worked abroad.
Never even went on Erasmnus ffs! Or J1. Or Interrailling.

**********************************

...Oh COME ON.

I've moaned and panicked for years that I'll never have a career, never decide on something cos I enjoy so many different things, study forever and try loads but never realise my potential, etc etc.
Now that there's some hope I'm moaning even more? Job = money. THEN I can travel. New career = new friends AND money, AND holidays I can use to visit my old ones.

Snap out of it!
Time to get out of the house.



Or...at the very least... out of my jamas.

A Good Time

I like to believe that people – most people, anyway – aren’t deliberately cruel. I believe that, like me, they only treat other people badly when they can justify it to their self-involved selves, or forget to be considerate, or just… neglect to think about it at all. And even when someone IS deliberately cruel, there’s some reason. Maybe not a GOOD reason, but maybe enough for them. Maybe you just caught them at a bad time. Maybe their shit’s hitting the fan in another area of their life and their tolerance is down. Maybe being pleasant is too much work that day.

Justified negligence of the ‘right thing’. I readily forgive that trait in myself… Haha, not that it registers… It doesn’t even make me flinch most of the time (‘till afterwards when I weigh up its worth). When I really feel like I’m justified, who can convince me otherwise? But it’s harder for us to forgive it in others. Maybe because it’s much easier to internally convince yourself something’s ok to do/doesn’t matter/isn’t THAT bad. Or to convince yourself that you just don’t really care, at all. We all do it. All the time.

But, from the outside, it’s more obvious that you’re being a shit and, no matter how many excuses you come up with, it’s probably inexcusable.

Maybe being a shit just comes naturally… to everyone… sometimes… and maybe it’s about pushing yourself t’wards self-control.

Or maybe, like everything else, it’s all about timing and circumstance.
Timing and circumstance control your destiny, if there is such a thing. Unless you can control them, you can’t control anything. And… you can only ever really control them to an extent.

Love, hate, rivalry, mercy, charity, faith, wealth, choices, success, first impressions… Timing and circumstance rule it all. Even your mood. Even who you ‘are’.

I left my favourite scarf in Cork on New Year’s Eve and my friend, who I was sure would forget all about it, got it safely back to me.

And then (subsequently, promptly) I lost it. And it occurred to me that, if he HAD forgotten it, and still had it, unreturned… I’d be irked somewhat, but basically would still have a scarf. But now it’s gone forever.

Which has nothing to do with anything. But it was a funny thought.

Like missing a plane that crashes. Or never getting to know that person. Or applying for a job at JUST the right time. Or the introversion and imposed loneliness that comes with forgetting for a while that your life is, in fact, so much bigger than just you (and that it takes work to keep it that way… work you can’t cram in at the end…)

Or, losing your scarf.

Fucking "Feelings". They ruin everything.

I’ve fallen out with three of the people I respect most in the world. Well, not so much fallen-out… “Lost”, more like… as in, Friendship Over. And I don’t mean recently (though one was recent enough, but a long time coming) but, rather, over the last few years.

And it’s the greatest shame when it happens. There’s a grief to losing someone from your life; whether they’re still alive or not doesn’t ease the pang. Part of life, I guess. “As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons” is easier said than done.

The first two helped me regain myself. The falling out, and fallout, may have been ugly, but I owe everything to them. Well… a lot. They helped me to cop on and remember who I was – all the while helping me to be better. I worry about both; one to a greater extent than the other, each because of their respective, fatal flaws that hold them back, unbeknownst to them. I think they’re perfect, though. As close as people get. I think about them both all the time. I still text them the odd time; more and more infrequently until it’s barely once a year, praying for a friendly response and an invite for a coffee/pint. Not likely. She’s still too angry; the grudge-holding type. And he’s in another world… and won’t be coming out of it, I don’t think.

The third caused me more harm than good. And I don’t say that in retrospect alone; I knew it all along. But how can you help it? When you think so highly of someone? It’s a pain, the bullshit that comes into it…. Attraction, distrust, secrecy, suspicion, dishonesty, insensitivity, alcohol, bitching, miscommunication, taking one another for granted… People are never just people with each other – there’s always all these stupid issues, beliefs, fears and feelings that warp and ruin and complicate everything. Bullshit.

But the rest makes it irresistible; the company… the occasional, glistening understanding… the relief that someone almost “gets” it… their voice and opinions, music and jokes and sense of fun… That’s what you miss. That’s what you remember. God, she was so much fun! And he could have done ANYTHING with that mind and that talent – the best musician I’ve ever heard.

Well, that’s what I remember. And the aforementioned bullshit is forgotten in an instant, as far as I’m concerned, when you bump into them for the first time in ages… You just wanna dig inside their head and know everything about them, and how they’re getting on, now. You’re dying to just grab them in a big hug and squeeze really tight and hope to God it never happened. But you don’t. ‘Cos you can’t. ‘Cos it did.

And, with any of them, I’d love a clean slate. Start over. I’d love the chance to meet again for the first time… Erasing those wretched stains that sour a well-lived-in friendship. I kinda had that op with the third person I mentioned... But, not really... Just as doomed as last time, with obstructive, underlying grudges on top of it. And pride. Pride can be poison. Christ, there’s still so many things that make me so, so angry to think about. The fact that he’s angry, for example, over something tiny that I don’t even remember doing. The NERVE. After all I put up with, and over something so stupid?

I made few complaints, tried to understand, pretended it didn’t bother me when he (seemingly) didn’t give a shit, and he’s in a huff with me? He can stay in it. Friendship Over? Fine. I’ve done enough to try sustain it. I’m done making an effort, doing little favours, actively BEING a friend. He wasn’t a friend to me. One time he WAS really there for me – but that was more out of coincidence than anything else. And he told me later that I’d been melodramatic. Nice. Ok, no, it’s not fair to say he wasn’t a friend to me – a few times, a little bit, he really was.

It’s not like I could call him for a vent or a chat or anything, ever. Well, I could, but the idea makes me uncomfortable. Squirming at the thought! He has an incredible talent for making “Hey” or “What’s the craic?” sound like “Is there a particular reason you’re bothering me and can we make this quick?” I could never tell if it was intentional or not.

But. Anyway. Like I said; that’s not the bit I like to care about. How important is it? I may be angry, but I still hate the idea of losing touch. I just wanna be friends. I just wanna know how the exams went. I wanna wish him well. I wanna say goodbye. ‘Though… keeping in touch is not my call. It has to be up to him. Why? ‘Cos any effort from ME to get in contact would probably be seen as attention-seeking, so-called “clingy”, behaviour in his head… And he wouldn’t respond anyway.

I’ve never had a friend I was so afraid talking to – sitting in Bewleys, biting my tongue, watching my every word. The hell?! It was the weirdest “friendship” I ever had. His critical eyes terrified me by the end. But, that Valentines, and those first few late nights this time round (before he said all that shite and changed everything; before issues, beliefs, fears and feelings interfered)… Those nights and chats were something else…

And I’ve heard nothing from him since that awful morning… when, despite my put-on cheerfulness, I had a lump in my throat going up Grafton St. Same as last time. Perfectly reasonable, in his head, I’m sure. I’d like to be able to say I trusted him and was surprised, but that’d be a lie. I knew it would happen (no wonder I couldn’t sleep). I was prepared. But, y’know what, I had still really hoped I was wrong and it still fucking hurt when he was finished we me - when we just suddenly weren't friends anymore. It hurts. Which is weird, 'cos I'd never admit it. Not after the fool I made of myself last time. And if the ONLY way I’ve slipped up and SHOWN that was one drunk, pathetic text message, and this blog post , then I think I’m doin’ pretty fucking well.

Issues, beliefs, fears and fucking feelings can rot friendships… You can’t ever really wipe those niggling things out. And they make it so hard to stay in touch. Why make the effort? Why not just convince yourself you never cared and move on? There’s plenty more people around who you care about less… and, thus, hate less. So you’ll go for coffee with them. And it’ll be just lovely.

Honestly

I wish everyone would just shut up and realise they're talking shite. Making noises. Might as well be grunting at each other, for all the good it does. Conversation? Nope. Not by my definition...

I'm just not in a people mood today. Not in the mood for listening to, and pretending to care about, the drivel they're spewing.


I've no internet at home, so I should probably use this opportunity to write some awesome post... but.. nope. That's it.

Workin my way through my Marilyn Monroe box-set - love it. Must get the other half of the collection some day..!

My jobs have me nackered. The full-time's great, and the other part-time stuff...well.. I can cut down a little once the first payment comes my way.

I HATE having to wait a month for my money. But - Christ - it's gonna be sweet.
26th of June. It's gonna be a hell of a night out.

And I'll get my hair done, and shop somewhere OTHER than Tesco's, and and - maybe a new hairdryer that isn't a fire-hazard! :)




Really! Look at this place. It's so... bizarre. Out of place everywhere in the world. With it's politics and it's drippy pipes and it's ...everything.
How did I get here?

Sometimes I have to do a double-take; like, really?! This is MY life? Where'd it all come from? How'd it all happen? And what the fuck is next..?