Not for any particular reason that I can think of, just "cuz
for" (Family variant of "because" when asked "why?" of
something)
Today is obviously
a day for using long and archaic words
(on an unrelated
note, wasn't there some indie-ish band in the mid/early 90s which had a name
along the lines of X and the Melancholic Ys or was there an album called
Melancholia or something, Melon Kolly? I think it was probably during my Take
That-hating, Let Loose-loving days of early teenagerhood (why yes, my iPod does
have untold seams of cheesy, apparently crap pop music that I still
love anyway ;o) )) {too many brackets again!}
Ah, said iPod has
just started playing the song that has probably caused my melancholy this
evening. Lana del Rey's Video Games. The strange thing is, it
reminds me much more of my relationship with an ex-boyfriend than it does mine
with Gav. (Apart from that line about "he holds me in his big arms"
which makes me think of the-friend-who-I-have-an-unsuitable-crush-on!).
In all fairness, Pumped Up Kicks by Foster the People probably hasn't
overly helped either. Xfm is currently radio station of choice when I've
got access to either internet or a DAB radio.
I find myself
listening to a lot more music now than I used to. And, and this is
the impressive bit, I've finally stopped turning my music right down so that no
one can hear and comment on whatever I'm listening to. I realised that I
got into this habit way, way back, probably when I was still in 6th form,
when my then-best-friend-and-guy-I'd-fancied-for-far-too-long was a complete
and utter music "snob". It wasn't worth listening to unless it
was played by, ideally, John Peel or, at a push, Steve Lamacq. On the
other hand, he was also first to ask to borrow "Performance and
Cocktails" when that came out. Part of me still misses how simple
6th Form was, even if it really didn't feel it at the time. I don't miss
the stress of having a mum who seemed to believe that an "A" stood
for Average instead of being the top grade, but then-best-friend-etc had a mum
who was just as bad.
Hello again.
My brain's just come back from a tangent where I was contemplating my
favourite memories of then-best-friend-etc (who, for simplicity, I shall refer
to as Tim, that having been his name!). They are good memories. He
was a complete sweetie when he wasn't being an arrogant git. The good
thing about writing all this down, is that you aren't aware of the huge gaps in
my writing while I go off into another reverie as another memory floats into my
brain. I can't believe how young I really was at 17 either. I was
still a complete kid in some ways. But, then again, it's stuff like that
that has shaped the me that's sat on the sofa now. [Cheesy pop alert! One
Direction - What makes you beautiful, I am no longer to be ashamed by such
crap!]
When I started
this blog, I was full of anger at God. That's not there so much at the
moment. In all honesty, I haven't been thinking of Him so much recently,
I've been generally distracted and can't connect with God at all. That
probably, almost certainly in fact, means that I need to make a concerted
effort to sit down for some prayer time by myself. Hmmm.
Oh how I wish that
my life was easy and simple at the moment. I really don't want to be
wondering about the-friend-who-I-have-an-unsuitable-crush-on and how he
didn't appear to speak to his wife all night at a group Christmas dinner but he
searched me out and came up at the end to give me a hug and said either
"Happy Christmas, gorgeous" or "Happy Christmas, you look
gorgeous". I can't really remember which it was that he said, I was
more floored by being called gorgeous. I admit, I was looking good, for
reasons that I explained last night, but I hadn't dressed up to go fishing for
compliments, well, not beyond the normal, girly, preening compliments that all
women share when they're more than usually dressed up! Random thought, at
least I've grown well out of the stage of memorising every single thing that a
crush says to me so that I can replay the conversation later and extract every
single (imagined) nuance. If I hadn't, I'd have perfect recall of what he
said.
Complete detour,
it turns out that, by the end of that previous paragraph, I'd got to 749 words.
What are the chances of managing to continue wittering onwards until I
hit 1000 words?
Oh yeah,
Christmas. That's what I think I originally meant to blog about in the
first place, but I got distracted by memories of standing out on the terrace at
school before A-levels and thinking that I'd never feel so connected to another
human in my entire life.
...
There is going to
be such a fucking hole in this house over Christmas, it's untrue!
And, in essence,
that's all that I really want to say or think about the matter.
No one to wake up
next to in the morning
No one to co-host
Christmas lunch with.
No one to tell
silly, exaggerated stories that no one is quite sure whether or not to believe
but there's always the chance that it really did happen just like that (if
you've ever seen Big Fish, you'll know precisely the sort of thing that I
mean!)
No one to enjoy
that companionable silence with after everyone's gone and you can finally get
away with sprawling on the sofa and enjoying all the new books you got.
No one to drag to
the midnight service.
No one to cause me
to remember to watch the Dr Who Christmas special (I'm assuming that, as
normal, there'll be one this Christmas. I really don't know though, as I
never normally bother to watch the TV. Books or the internet will always
win in my opinion.)
I'm now trying to
second-guess myself. Do I want a glass of Bailey's because it tastes good
or because a shot will stop my brain caring about all this stuff I've just
typed out. You, my imaginary reader, may well be telling me that I surely
deserve a glass of Baileys after all of this but, after a break-up with my
first proper boyfriend while I was at uni in London (a city which I really do
hate living in), I realised how easy it would be to turn to alcohol to fix
everything and I promised myself that I would never drink alcohol when I was in
a bad mood. In the past 11 years, I've broken that promise to myself only
once and that was shortly after being told that my contract at work would not
be up for renewal and later finding out that they'd taken someone else who was
barely more qualified than me on at twice what
I'd been on. I think I was only allowed one single vodka/orange juice before my
friends decided that I was in a thoroughly out of character mood and was not
allowed to drink any more alcohol and certainly not at that speed.
In conclusion, I'm
going to have hot chocolate without Baileys as I think I'm after the alcohol
purely to calm my brain down enough to get to sleep quickly and that is a bad
reason to drink if there's no one else around to keep an eye on you.
(1268 words, if you're curious, not including this final line)
