The trials of those uncertain twenties

More a mindless babble than a well thought out post but stick with me here…

  • Falling as close as I have to love in quite some time with a boy I’d met all of two days
  • Tugging between awe for a city that is mostly beautiful and embodies the charm that capital cities do, that allow you to get lost in them in the most romantic of ways, whilst feeling absolutely erratic because of its trappings for that very sometimes sterile reason
  • The continual career crisis
  • Dramatics of the dating soc. with a questioning of bisexualism curveball thrown in for good measure
  • The return of the perpetually ridiculous OCD which somehow allows an otherwise level headed soul to be convinced the lack of symmetry in her/my touch will no doubt lead to the wiping out of a family of 5

These are but a few of the trials of those uncertain twenties, more than a couple of which I am not alone in and share with friends who too are now finding themselves armed with a self help guide or three.

Amongst the hysteria driven tears and laughs coupled with the pining and thankfulness for living and feeling once more, I wish I had just one constant to rely on throughout.  With this I expect the excitement and angst of both these dreamy and darned twenties would be far easier to embrace than to so often feel defeated by.

So time IS a healer

Can you tell I’ve started on the life coaching books?

So it turns out I hadn’t deleted all trace of that Kiwi, probably a sneaky subconscious move on my part.  Subconscious? Unconscious? Anyway, MY SKYPE! Of course I couldn’t help but take a look, as I love to dwell and mourn nice things.  And guess what? The entire thing made me laugh, our conversations had the great workings of a tragic romantic novel, tragic being the operative word here.  He WAS all “I want you, I need you, I’m moving” from the onset.  Having had a little snoop on his blog about his choons it seems he’s fallen just as madly, deeply for this new bird, all over the course of days again.  Probably down to his artistic nature intrinsically making him feel so much more intensely than us regular folk.  I conclude, he’s 1. fickle 2. far more lost than he claims 3. I’m so glad to be back in the real world, with real people and not spending every waking minute on him.

I still standby my no regrets mantra, because I have none.

Now a gif for you all that epitomises that time in my life.  I bid you and it, adieu! Ah :)

xoxo

Feeling better 23.02.14

5 rules for me and me alone

1. Listen to music again, REALLY listen to it.

2. Take off the rose tinted glasses when looking back. Remind self that every single encounter builds on who I am. This should avert any attempts to leap into my ever enchanting well of gloom.

3. Find at least one thing I’m thankful for, everyday. Today I’m going for my Dads encyclopaedic memory, it’s very helpful in deciphering current affairs. Today we discussed the Ukraine. I am also very happy about that delicious peanut butter cup milkshake I devoured earlier.

4. I will stop adding a negative to counteract every positive, it’s as if I’m incapable of using one without the other. It’s stupid and demoralising without reason. So I’m cutting back as of now.

5. Smile at one stranger a day, smug face and vicious smiley scowls may not be included however will not be omitted from my life. As my scowly and cocky nature shapes my very being.

Date número deux

“Hey you! YES YOU. Are you dithering on a date and looking for ways to entertain yourself? Bring up the notion of freezing your eggs, a foolproof way to a priceless face.”

Yes, yes it happened. No I would not take it back if I could.

From smiling from ear to ear to wishing you an eternal bout of herpes

*It’s a long un

Prologue:
Now that I’ve ticked off practically every stereotypical heartbreak fix that is known I’ve decided to re-watch 500 Days of Summer for the umpteenth time to try and make some sense of it all.  As one of the only films that is a little more true to the point when it comes to infatuations and falling in love, without falling into the Disney nor the Revolutionary Road-esque sides of the spectrum.  But the fact is no reason nor explanation is going to make me feel any better right now so I’ve no idea what I’m looking for.  It really is just a sad attempt to stop myself from going completely and utterly insane, as is this post, if just for a moment.

I was having this conversation with a male mate of mine a couple of weeks ago over dinner, about how he believes all women are crazy, and to some degree, I can’t help but agree, especially in the state I’m in now.

It’s important that I make it clear that I’m not depressed, I’d say it’s more of an emotional come down.

The beginning:
So I met this man-child, by chance, over a year ago on my travels.  One trip back to reality and a move to the Big Smoke for me and a break up with his then long term girlfriend, and a move back to his home in NZ for him, along with some bizarro online ‘something not quite a nothing’ relationship that we built for a year later, that I find myself back in that joyous blue state that can only be induced by boy.

As my last but one post suggests, I fell for him madly deeply, and not right away.  I thought him cute when I met him, but he had a girlfriend at the time, and there really was absolutely nothing remotely romantic about our conversations whilst they were together, he was just a laugh, intelligent, and for some reason unbeknown had taken an interest in me.  Anyway we both gained a sort of solace in it I guess, me having moved city, finding my feet and yet another attempt to re-discover myself.  And with him, the shock of moving home after travelling for over a year to find much had changed, or perhaps everything wasn’t as rosy as he’d come to remember.  Having lived the life of an adventurer for a year, to returning to the dreary reality of joblessness and moving back into his parents we both found some level of comfort in each other.  He was the very person I wanted to tell the ridiculous fact I’d learnt that day to and I was the girl that’d get first look at the song he’d just written.  It was awesome.

Another point to be clear on was that I didn’t push for what this became, he did, whole-heartedly, with his overly emotional say exactly what he thought self.  I however wasn’t up for being hurt, nor day dreaming about something that was crazy.  Okk day dream I did, but I didn’t talk about it.  He talked lots of moving here, planning, even looking for jobs.  And I knew it was too big a chance for someone to take on me, on a whim, based on what 2 meetings in real life?  I wasn’t trying to be cold, or heartless, he was planning a change of career and I wasn’t going to be the person to come in the way of that.

We carried on as we did, him with a plan of his career, visits, and then eventually a move if things worked out.  And me with a ‘what happens happens’ attitude, I didn’t want to dictate any choices he made, nor be to blame should it be a bad one for him, and what if we were to learn much of what we felt was down to it being the unknown?  Yes I was shitting myself at the prospect.  I said we should still date people, he should still date, but just not tell me about it.

I had a few drunken kisses, all wholly guilt ridden, and really not remotely fun.  My friends knew that I was utterly besotted, the most content I’d been in I can’t even recall how long, but they didn’t want me clutching to something that may well not materialise, so a few made it clear that I shouldn’t be switching off to any guys here and now.  I usually take little notice of what anyone says, but for my best friend to warn to be a little careful, I went with it.  I never actively looked to date anyone, nor get with them, the prospect made me ill to the stomach, and honestly no-one would ever compare, so it was pointless.

Anyway, he hated this, I never mentioned the kisses, only a date once, when he’d asked, and that was enough to rile up the anger and jealousy, which is fair, but without us really knowing whether we’d ever be together, it seemed the only logical thing to do.

So we continue to potter on, still pretty mad for each other, he finally gets a job!  It’s been months on end, the unemployment and all else has been getting him down and yay he’s finally on his way to where he wants to be.  He was interning, run off his feet, and way busier than I was, I do get it, I’ve been there, but I went from being absolutely everything to nothing, nada.  From the girl he’d marry (ha yes it was intense) to pretty much a nobody.  The conversations became ones that I could have with strangers on a train, and remember us Londoners aren’t even a particularly friendly bunch.

The first month, I thought he’s settling in, the second, well it’s super busy, the third, it was getting silly.  Barely a word with days in between, after we used to talk for hours on end, practically everyday, even with the ridiculous time difference.

I wasn’t angry, instead I was convinced I’d clearly cocked something up along the way and had fabricated this entire thing.

Ok so this is where I start to sound crazy.  Keep in mind that I’m the girl who feels claustrophobic if she has to meet up with a guy she’s dating more than once a week.  I don’t open up to others willingly.  I have a select group for every relationship, friends, co-workers, even family to some extent.  But for the first time in 10 years I gave in again, after much resistance, with the promise of not being hurt.

It got to the point where I had to say bye for now, he clearly had lost interest, but didn’t have the balls to say it, and I wasn’t going to be the loon waiting on the other end of it all.  I missed him like mad, finally cracked, and asked him how he was, and he finally confessed.

  • He was seeing, sorry dating a girl for a while.  They broke up, apparently his heart was elsewhere, ha.
  • Work has been manic, all he has time for is work and socialising, poor guy.
  • He finally realised that he did want to cement his career, and financially there was no way of him getting here.

And that’s all I needed, except instead of allowing me the courtesy of knowing, he was a cold twat and made me go positively insane.  We got talking again for a little bit, he apologised for going about it the way he did, claimed he really did care for me and that we did have something great but he didn’t know how to make it work.  That’s all he had to bloody say.  I was the first to tell him that this was mental, it wasn’t fair nor realistic that he should move, so it wasn’t this that was so upsetting.  It was the ability to be able to switch it off completely, practically instantaneously upon the realisation is what actually hurt.

The end:
A month on from this, he’s got a girlfriend, who is painfully beautiful.  Although seeing it makes me feel physically sick, it’s probably in some horrible way exactly what I need.  I’ve deleted every single message, unfollowed him from all that I can, and deleted any crap the crops up on my computer under his name.  Until that point I still found myself day dreaming, that someday it’ll work out and it’ll go back to the way it was, after all it was perfect all of a few months ago.

He’s the first person that has ever made me feel like it’s ok to be me and had me believe it, that’s something I won’t be giving up for a while.  Now just to rid myself of these darned blues… xxx

A guide to the universal etiquette of the London underground

Now we’re known for not being the friendliest bunch on the tube.  Avert all eye contact, do not speak to those beside you, even if you are indeed intimately lodged in their armpit, this does not warrant the closeness of a relationship as it would seem at first glance, off the rails.  Oh and at all costs, NEVER STOP RUNNING.

It’s coming to a year since moving here and at first I found the continual zombie-like zooming rush hour ritual somewhat bizarre and a little cold.  And now?  Well it turns out Londoners are human for the most part (especially so after a glass or three of vino), except they don’t like to talk first thing, and they appreciate the quiet after a day at work, so if anything I think there’s something quite nice in that we’ve all come to a mutual agreement for a bit of peace on our commute.

However, there a few more unwritten rules, that are abided by for the most part, but I’d like to make these quite clear for those unsure of the boundaries.

1) Head’s of relatively small people should not be mistaken as newspaper rests, this is unkind, especially to those with severe short person syndrome.

2) Caressing ones hair, and ridding yourself of those strays that malt, and then proceeding to sprinkle these sparingly across the carriage makes my morning coffee curdle.

3) Clipping the back of feet will one day result in clipping around the ear.

4a) The hogging and quite literal hugging of the poles.  b) The ultimate sin is the meek holding of two, without an attempt of the Earth Song.  If you insist on pissing your carriage off, do it with some conviction.

5) Those not sure whether they’d like to stand or walk down the escalators and instead find their happy medium by dawdling down the left hand side?  Nobody else shares your joy.

And I will leave you there!  I’ve a tonne more but at the risk of sounding a complete anal loon I’ll bid you guten nacht.

Oh for any prospective tourists reading this, for you, a little glimpse…

Happy commuting x

Lost and found

Hey,

Long time!  Yeah so I told a slight fib when I promised to divulge all about my travels, it’s now been just over 6 months and I’ve found the draft with the opening paragraph saved.  The fact is my WordPress kept crashing each time I uploaded a pic and well I gave up, I wasn’t posting it unless it was perfect.  So this is issue no. 1.  Let’s begin :)

  • Perfectionist gone crazy:  I’ve always been quite particular in all that I do, actually all that I care about, but recently I’ve become so frustrated with everything around me all that I can control, will be.  I can genuinely feel myself losing it.
  • I’m stuck in another job where I couldn’t feel any more disposable:  ‘Marketing’ is in my title, and it’s in the Affiliate industry, another ‘on the up’ field in the Digi marketing sphere (as was PPC) so I guess hurrah for the CV?  It’s not going to look so good when I make my sharp exit – it’s just re-emphasised how much I hate the Corpies.  I’m not the girl to laugh at jokes that aren’t funny, network with the influentials nor pander to who I swear should be classed as clinically insane (I’m quite aware this is becoming increasingly cynical, I can’t promise there’ll be a happy ending, you should maybe close your browser now.)  The company cares nothing for the little guys, nor many of their clients actually, and I’m sure I’m being naive, and this is how businesses run and survive but the whole things makes me feel ill.  So yes, I must leave, right away.
  • This brings me to my next point, I make my return back to the job jungle.  I am good at what I’ve done and I have the potential to do well in my next role (keep your fingers crossed for Communications positions in the Arts ;-) )- My boss quite frankly stated that I’m my own worst enemy the other day, which is the absolute truth.  I’m 25, I have got to have faith in myself one day or else no-one will believe it. n.b my boss is an absolute witch in all other respects.  I hate that she made this observation.
  • 3 days off to sort my life out.  Day one: CV reshuffle, upload to all recruiter sites.  Day two:  Spent most of the morning on phone to recruiters, actually not all aimless roles either, met recruiter in afternoon who may have proposed close to dream job, well next step to dream job anyhow.  Don’t want to curse it so I won’t say much more :).  Day two, evening: The onset of serious bout of self doubt and fear hits, cue my WordPress saviour.
  • As I’m confessing all in this post I should tell you what has been playing on my mind most of all.  I’ve fallen madly, deeply for a pen pal of mine, which sounds absolutely crazy I’m sure but I thought him perfect when I first met him (on the travels I never got around to telling you about).  Ok so the strand in Practical Magic, where Sandra Bullock creates her perfect man, and he has the different coloured eyes, one blue, one green? He literally ticks every single one of the characteristics I’ve always said I’d want (believe me the list is extensive).  I feel like a hormonal teen all over again.  He sees right through me and knows me better than I know myself in some respects and quite frankly I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid.

Anyway, I’d say that’s quite enough for today, I’m going to go read before Bedfordshire comes a calling.

Thanks for listening

x

Freshly Pressed

The satisfaction of seeing that Freshly Pressed message above my blog posts gives me somewhat of a little glimmer.  The writing of it however scares me shitless.  I’m not sure of what exactly as the likes on these posts suggest these posts are hardly going far and wide.

Stop the press!  She’s going to tell all on her fabulous trip to Prague (I kid you not, expect a Euro gush on my next post).

It’s down to that moment when you re-read your prose, and there it is, that line that makes you flinch and then lures you into clicking that delete button.  I’ve always been the same, all the poems scrawled when I was younger are scrapped, my beautiful travel book is only a few pages inked and it’s taken me over 2 years post uni to even consider picking up a pen.

So what’s changed?  As you may have noticed I’ve a tendency to post when I’m relatively happy, I’d only come across as tragic when talking of my dreary misgivings through the perspective of a perfectly ordinary product of the cushty material sphere I’ve lodged myself in, so, instead I talk only of my escape through books and getaways.

My point is, I’m adding writing back to this list, starting now, this very post, bland as I’m sure I’ll find it tomorrow is marking the day I started writing again, for me.

xxx