Yeah, I don't really know what's been happening recently, but it's been quite grim. Last week: Monday-Wednesday heavy ennui-slash-despair-slash-anxiety, Thursday demented running around, then Friday, demob happy staring into space. Weekend - tense, paying for Friday's lack of productivity. This week: Monday - AWFUL. But yesterday's activities were cancelled, so I feel reborn. A whole bonus day! One I didn't expect! Ideally I would have got around to finishing this post, but I didn't, entirely and am having to edit it to reflect this now, sigh.
I'll stick to the now-traditional format for when I am confused and out of practice.
- I told one employer I could only do one piece a week and not two recently, thinking it would free me up to pitch for exciting new work. Um, yeah. So far I have just sunk into a decline, believing myself to be incapable of getting new work, ever. Idiot. I mean, I still the think the principle is right, but I need a kick up the arse to actually put it into effect. OH GOD, I WILL NEVER HAVE ANY MONEY, is my main thought currently. I'd say it recurs about 28-43 times on an average day, then on Fridays and Saturdays I hush it with wine and really shit telly. This is working out really well for me. (no, it isn't, things are bad).
- I am trying to stretch a slightly too small pair of Repettos by wearing them for a couple of hours a day and the pain in my right big toe is ungodly.
- I've just heard the Eurostar restaurant reviews are being cut to 100 words, which basically gives me space to say "I went here, it was good".
- I have been trying to lose a tiny amount of weight in a sensible eating, non-psychotic way and it is awful and a misery and by 4pm every day I am ready to kill everyone and devour live puppies. I had forgotten how appallingly I react to low blood sugar (how I wasn't arrested when I had an eating disorder is a mystery). I think for everyone's sake, I should just resign myself to a life of more assertive support underpinnings and more biscuits. Presumably if I were to persist, I could struggle through to a new, lean, clean, clarity without my sugar crutch, but the chances are I would commit aggravated assault in the process. The greatest utility of the greatest number is not served by me being thinner, I conclude. Stubbornness, however, is setting in and I find I do not want to admit defeat.
- I have a new dickhead neighbour who sits right by my ear (or so it feels), playing 80s cock rock and free jazz and I am about ready to murder him (see above, re. murderous thoughts).
- The kid who had a bad last report did really well in his exams, so everyone is lightheaded with off-the-hook-ness. None of us wants to be trudging through more part participle agreements when we could be watching eg. "Splash" (D list celebs hurt themselves learning to dive) or the very promising sounding but appalling in execution "The Jump" (D list celebs hurt themselves catastrophically learning to ski jump). Also, a brief aside: THE OUTFITS IN THE JUMP. I am actually speechless. Never in the history of human endeavour has such unflattering clothing been worn by so many. They look like a collection of neoprene coated barrels, decorated by a whimsical toddler with access to Christian Lacroix's stock room.
- The thick January brainfog is definitely lifting. I only want to curl up in the dark and lull myself into fur and cashmere lined oblivion for 14 hours of the day now, not 24.
- I HAVE DECLARED MY ID CARD LOST AFTER 13 MONTHS. I have tortured myself pointlessly with this piece of admin for approximately 390 days. This morning I finally went and did the deed: 10 minutes in the police station, everyone perfectly polite, then 10 minutes at the town hall, €20, everyone also perfectly polite. I can't pretend I'll learn my lesson as a result of this, because I won't. I have also lost my driving licence but some horrible force - embarrassment, I think - stopped me from asking for a declaration that that was lost too, which is so stupid, and just means I will have to go through the whole rigamarole again, presumably for another year or so. Hang on, that's a 'down'.
- I have found great comfort and fascination recently in both Slipstream (the Elizabeth Jane Howard memoir), which is full of self-doubt and bleak patches and in this interview with Joanna Scanlan, who is a most wonderful actress, but who I discover today spent over a decade in total career wilderness. It's not the 'look, there's always hope' part that fascinates me so much as reading women talking with total frankness about being properly, grindingly miserable from time to time. I don't know quite why that's so comforting, but it is. Also, wow, Kingsley Amis does not come out of Slipstream covered in glory.
- As I type, F is drawing me a diagram and giving me a highly detailed description of how to dissect/taxidermy a mouse and it keeps making me laugh.
He is unsure what to do with the head, as you can see. Any elucidation very welcome.
Tomorrow I pledge to write a post without a word of complaint, so that's something for us all to look forward to.