because I ate:
dinner- pasta and vegetables-400
biscuit and a teacake-120
some buttons-50
3 biscuits-210
a garibaldi-40
that is all... 850. Plus 1130, it's just under 2000, but I suppose tomorrow is another day. Lies to the world that I don't care when I do.
The play went alright, I suppose. I could do better. Is acting for me? Noone says it should be, and they would, I think. They'd want to say I was a good actress, but I don't know. I don't want people to think badly of me, but then I shouldn't care, it's my life.
I am feeling tired, and I would like to huddle into your shoulder, because you look soft and safe.
Wednesday 25 March 2009
Sometimes I want to tell people the nice things others say about them to their face.
Just as noone ever says anything bad to your face, not many say the good things either. I was talking about a colleague with someone else today, and we were both saying how lovely she was, how interesting to talk to, how chatty and decent she was... and she'll probably never know we think that. We joked that we should make a card. There really are a lot of people at work that I like.
I was tired today, and it just wasn't as good as it should have been, I can't put my finger on why, because nothing actually went wrong... MC asked me something that I should have been listening to, and I felt like a child. I'm so worried that I haven't been doing my job properly, and there was a chance. The only thing that they might think I'm good at is listening or remembering things, so now they'll either think I'm stupid, or arrogant, or both. In truth, I am easily distracted. Ugh. I want them to think I'm cool, like I think they're cool.
I think that, at the beginning of the day, might have put me off. There are people who never mind being caught out or aren't ashamed of it, and those that remember and retain for ages. I'm the latter.
Today I ate:
two cadburys fingers and an oreo- 140
a baguette-450
600
orange juice-100
dates-50
raisins-100
850
I was tired today, and it just wasn't as good as it should have been, I can't put my finger on why, because nothing actually went wrong... MC asked me something that I should have been listening to, and I felt like a child. I'm so worried that I haven't been doing my job properly, and there was a chance. The only thing that they might think I'm good at is listening or remembering things, so now they'll either think I'm stupid, or arrogant, or both. In truth, I am easily distracted. Ugh. I want them to think I'm cool, like I think they're cool.
I think that, at the beginning of the day, might have put me off. There are people who never mind being caught out or aren't ashamed of it, and those that remember and retain for ages. I'm the latter.
Today I ate:
two cadburys fingers and an oreo- 140
a baguette-450
600
orange juice-100
dates-50
raisins-100
850
Monday 23 March 2009
Doesn't it feel much better, aha, when you've had a better day than yesterday?
Lady Sovereign, you speak the truth.
1430 today, written elsewhere.
I put my foot in it, but otherwise I'm fine. I feel squared out and reasonable. I get a lie in tomorrow.
I get so cross with hypochondria (and cross is a silly word to use). I wonder if you do too? I've never heard you make corporeal complaints, once on behalf of your daughter, but never for yourself. You don't get ill. I suppose you pride yourself on that (I do too) and you quietly exude rude health. You don't look healthy. But you are. MR described you as warm blooded today, because she can't turn up the heating without you remarking on it, though you're not like GF, who keeps it turned down because she's got enough insulation wrapped round her skeleton structure. You look muscular. I daresay you reckon I'm a little nice-but-dim. Or pointlessly eccentric, or adorned with useless fripperies. Do I make you nervous? Do I seem like I'll say the wrong thing, and then there'll be a backspin, you have to say the wrong thing too and we're all sixes and sevens?
Warm blooded is right. You're sensible and hard and effective, but I can't help think you're warm underneath. I saw you teach the other day, and you seem so sweet when you're nervous. Sweet with everyone looking at you and learning, because you can keep their attention and get them to learn. I wish I could. I can't stand that my family values appearance so much, but then you do too... in a different way. You're never seen out of uniform, your uniform, which isn't the most exciting but is neat and clean all the time, it's not haute couture but it's you, so it looks stylish, and I think comfortable from the way you move in it. You don't wear makeup (my Mother would be shocked). Did you? I don't think you ever did. Noone taught you, maybe. Maybe it was never a thought for you? Maybe you were too busy excelling at la vie sportif, or doing other things that are worthwhile to bother with something so useless. Maybe you do care, but you feel all of these other things too.
I couldn't look as proud or dignified as you without my daily mask.
I am silly for notifying you of things that aren't particular. I don't want to bore you. I just like to watch you be mercurial and beautiful. I'd like to see an explosion, as rumoured by colleagues, and I like to see you calm in your office at the end of the day. You seem to make your desk small by hunching over it, and there's some kind of comfort that comes from watching the curve of your back link up to the shine of your grey-chestnut hair. Though no words float between the doors, you're there and it's enough.
1430 today, written elsewhere.
I put my foot in it, but otherwise I'm fine. I feel squared out and reasonable. I get a lie in tomorrow.
I get so cross with hypochondria (and cross is a silly word to use). I wonder if you do too? I've never heard you make corporeal complaints, once on behalf of your daughter, but never for yourself. You don't get ill. I suppose you pride yourself on that (I do too) and you quietly exude rude health. You don't look healthy. But you are. MR described you as warm blooded today, because she can't turn up the heating without you remarking on it, though you're not like GF, who keeps it turned down because she's got enough insulation wrapped round her skeleton structure. You look muscular. I daresay you reckon I'm a little nice-but-dim. Or pointlessly eccentric, or adorned with useless fripperies. Do I make you nervous? Do I seem like I'll say the wrong thing, and then there'll be a backspin, you have to say the wrong thing too and we're all sixes and sevens?
Warm blooded is right. You're sensible and hard and effective, but I can't help think you're warm underneath. I saw you teach the other day, and you seem so sweet when you're nervous. Sweet with everyone looking at you and learning, because you can keep their attention and get them to learn. I wish I could. I can't stand that my family values appearance so much, but then you do too... in a different way. You're never seen out of uniform, your uniform, which isn't the most exciting but is neat and clean all the time, it's not haute couture but it's you, so it looks stylish, and I think comfortable from the way you move in it. You don't wear makeup (my Mother would be shocked). Did you? I don't think you ever did. Noone taught you, maybe. Maybe it was never a thought for you? Maybe you were too busy excelling at la vie sportif, or doing other things that are worthwhile to bother with something so useless. Maybe you do care, but you feel all of these other things too.
I couldn't look as proud or dignified as you without my daily mask.
I am silly for notifying you of things that aren't particular. I don't want to bore you. I just like to watch you be mercurial and beautiful. I'd like to see an explosion, as rumoured by colleagues, and I like to see you calm in your office at the end of the day. You seem to make your desk small by hunching over it, and there's some kind of comfort that comes from watching the curve of your back link up to the shine of your grey-chestnut hair. Though no words float between the doors, you're there and it's enough.
Saturday 21 March 2009
Ah, today I saw...
Lady of the House, and as usual, she was off campaigning. I made excuses and didn't go. I don't want to be of her causes, I want to be for her. She's lovely. I wish she'd let people be her friend instead of her ally; she gets mixed up over which is which, because of politics. There's no denying that people are unlikely to be friends with people holding extremely differing views, but people need to open their minds a little bit, I think. I want to be her friend, because I think she's wonderful, and cool.
I am seeing her tomorrow, Kindness. I like her a lot, and she's so shy in such strange ways. I was tired today, because of running about so much I suppose. I spend way too much time checking my tongue in the mirror. The sky is yours, so please don't please don't please don't. I'm so fickle, and fluid, never fixated at one point. I can't think about Mercury because thinking of her draws me to work, and what awaits Monday morning; evidence of my unprofessionalism, so I can't assimilate.
Kindness is pedantic and ridiculous about conflicts and things that don't really matter, eschewing things that do matter, and she is sometimes rude and grating. But she's safe. I think she's probably happy. I like to think of her being happy. As with anyone I fixate on, I think she's beautiful.
Today I walked 3 miles and bike rode about nine, or eight to ten. So I've burned off around 600 calories.
I ate:
2 pieces of bread and chocolate spread-200
A smoothie (orange juice, mango, ice and water)-100
a hot cross bun-200
500
a jacket potato-500
3 cubes of chocolate-100
1100
some pineapple-60
a slice of cheese-70
bread, cheese and tomatoes-180
a piece of cake-300
1700... but because of exercise, about 1100. That could be better, but could be worse.
I am seeing her tomorrow, Kindness. I like her a lot, and she's so shy in such strange ways. I was tired today, because of running about so much I suppose. I spend way too much time checking my tongue in the mirror. The sky is yours, so please don't please don't please don't. I'm so fickle, and fluid, never fixated at one point. I can't think about Mercury because thinking of her draws me to work, and what awaits Monday morning; evidence of my unprofessionalism, so I can't assimilate.
Kindness is pedantic and ridiculous about conflicts and things that don't really matter, eschewing things that do matter, and she is sometimes rude and grating. But she's safe. I think she's probably happy. I like to think of her being happy. As with anyone I fixate on, I think she's beautiful.
Today I walked 3 miles and bike rode about nine, or eight to ten. So I've burned off around 600 calories.
I ate:
2 pieces of bread and chocolate spread-200
A smoothie (orange juice, mango, ice and water)-100
a hot cross bun-200
500
a jacket potato-500
3 cubes of chocolate-100
1100
some pineapple-60
a slice of cheese-70
bread, cheese and tomatoes-180
a piece of cake-300
1700... but because of exercise, about 1100. That could be better, but could be worse.
Friday 20 March 2009
The horses are coming, so you'd better run.
I'm dealing with things all wrong, just when I thought I was getting the hang of it.
Is this how DB or MC would deal with things? I doubt it. I suppose I am me, but I am not them and they're brilliant, and this irks me, though, as my wise sister says, I have only been at this for a month and a half. It's early days.
I just hate getting things wrong, especially people things- it makes me feel like I'm naive and stupid and silly, not to be trusted, like I've got to be watched. Not happy.
I ate:
a biscuit-40
a tuna and cucumber sandwich-300
a smoothie (mango and some fruit juice, ice and water)-100
muesli and raisins-300
I suppose I am happy about that.
I asked Mercury what I should do, because RK said I should tell those in authority. She said the same thing, and because I'd been embarrassed telling her, she said, "they go through phases like that, they thought I was seeing someone in the department, and she was a lesbian- I'm not, and I have no prejudices, but it was just inaccurate". I smiled. Because you aren't prejudiced, I don't think, though I usually don't like it when people say, nothing against them, but...
It's because if the world was equal, you shouldn't be embarrassed about who you fancy.
But even so, I thought... I wonder what you think, having been faced with that. Because if you are, and if you feel that way, then someone else pointing it out would make you feel so transparent, so very blatant. I suppose it's not so obvious with me, in my skirts and makeup (though short hair's a giveaway). I suppose you do look like the stereotype; big and broad, no makeup, no skirt. Is it that simple? You wear a powder blue fleece to walk home in. I'd like to hold you into my shoulder and say, "I'm so glad", that you're comfortable and that you're you. I suppose it is that you're just not gay. I don't know why I find that so inconceivable, except for my own longings, of course. She hid around corners, and hid on the bed.
I think you're beautiful. I have written it so many times. I like you and your way of looking me in the eye, then away nervously. Your hair was more chestnut than grey today, matching the day's blaze. And you truly are kind. You're not feminine and hen-like, clucking about, like the others- you're authoritative and kind. The others are authoritative too. I'm rubbish at that. I'm rubbish at denying information.
Is this how DB or MC would deal with things? I doubt it. I suppose I am me, but I am not them and they're brilliant, and this irks me, though, as my wise sister says, I have only been at this for a month and a half. It's early days.
I just hate getting things wrong, especially people things- it makes me feel like I'm naive and stupid and silly, not to be trusted, like I've got to be watched. Not happy.
I ate:
a biscuit-40
a tuna and cucumber sandwich-300
a smoothie (mango and some fruit juice, ice and water)-100
muesli and raisins-300
I suppose I am happy about that.
I asked Mercury what I should do, because RK said I should tell those in authority. She said the same thing, and because I'd been embarrassed telling her, she said, "they go through phases like that, they thought I was seeing someone in the department, and she was a lesbian- I'm not, and I have no prejudices, but it was just inaccurate". I smiled. Because you aren't prejudiced, I don't think, though I usually don't like it when people say, nothing against them, but...
It's because if the world was equal, you shouldn't be embarrassed about who you fancy.
But even so, I thought... I wonder what you think, having been faced with that. Because if you are, and if you feel that way, then someone else pointing it out would make you feel so transparent, so very blatant. I suppose it's not so obvious with me, in my skirts and makeup (though short hair's a giveaway). I suppose you do look like the stereotype; big and broad, no makeup, no skirt. Is it that simple? You wear a powder blue fleece to walk home in. I'd like to hold you into my shoulder and say, "I'm so glad", that you're comfortable and that you're you. I suppose it is that you're just not gay. I don't know why I find that so inconceivable, except for my own longings, of course. She hid around corners, and hid on the bed.
I think you're beautiful. I have written it so many times. I like you and your way of looking me in the eye, then away nervously. Your hair was more chestnut than grey today, matching the day's blaze. And you truly are kind. You're not feminine and hen-like, clucking about, like the others- you're authoritative and kind. The others are authoritative too. I'm rubbish at that. I'm rubbish at denying information.
Thursday 19 March 2009
Everybody wants to know, why I'm walking round with a big smile on my face.
I suppose it's because I'm happy in my work. Not as happy as yesterday, but I am happy- and I like it, and I managed to tell someone my age some things that she didn't know. I was pleased. Though the girl my age is slight and nervous- nerves, not so different to how I was. I am more chilled out now, but I'm still sometimes nervous. She was amazed at how well I knew the girls, she's been there the same amount of time- though observing, not doing, and not with just one set. I have been with one set, doing things, and that's why I know them. But I am happy that I do.
Today:
2 clementines-40
a cheese salad sandwich-300
340
cereal-250
some salad-200
800
a smoothie-120
some popcorn-50
970
bread and nutella (1 slice)-100
flake-170
snack-60
1300
I'm due on my period, which is probably why I've felt so tired and why I've ate so much chocolate.
I wonder if you have days like this darling? Dog days, are over. Not as such... I suppose they're just the way sometimes. I wonder if you worry about food. You don't seem to, even when you're spilling it all over yourself. You worry about looking clumsy with it, and probably in an abstract way about being greedy and clearing your plate to look polite, but not in this way. Not like the other women do. Is it because of that that they won't bond with you? I think it's probably just because you're the boss, because I like the way you do what you do. SS doesn't diet, and I don't think JM does really, either. SS is accepted, JM not so much, so it's not reliant on that. RA, one of my favourites, has displayed vague dissatisfaction, like AG, but neither of them seem to care particularly. JW doesn't, and doesn't need to. I don't know what it is; is it tremulousness? JM is tremulous, and so is she in a different way. A stronger way, but it's there, underneath the table with her twisting pen and her half smile- do you get my joke, do you understand I'm not being how you think I am?
I think I get you, dear. I would love to hear all of the things people say about me- good or bad. I'd like to know what they are. I wonder what dogs you, what constitutes your dog days? You seem so cheerful. Money, maybe, or people? It doesn't seem to frustrate you, and I haven't ever heard you mention friends. Shunned in the playground? Then why should you choose to return? I like you. I would have liked you. Can I pinpoint loneliness accurately enough? Am I pinpointing anything accurately?
I wonder what you think about me. Am I a little puppy, do you find the tone of my voice irritating but want to ruffle my hair nontheless? Do you hate looking at me, and think I'm terrible at what I'm doing? I've got a silly way of twisting words... reconfiguring timetables, you said, "Ah, that'll be good, because you know some German and MC knows a bit of...", and I jumped in, "how to deal with the kids better", and you said, "no, more... what to do if it's a bit slow". Twisting twisting, and now you're going to think I'm awful. Noone was particularly glad that I was employed, except for GF and I can be sure that she wouldn't have chosen me, and that the gladness was most probably faked. I don't know why, and I know that LC had more experience and was probably generally better, but I would really rather I'd been offered it on the spot. I'd been first choice. Was it a toss up between us, and she just won out, or was it that I was a reluctant second, because the other person didn't turn up and the other two were awful? Do you think I'm a silly girl?
That would be the worst thing, unless you liked it. Isn't it strange that things seem so bad in me, but if you liked them, then maybe I could too. But you're not the sort that craves sweetness, you crave effective people, I think. Effective, decent people that you don't feel nervous around, because they might skitter off into some kind of unknown territory before you can blink, silly girls that worry about silly things, far removed from spheres of what's necessary. I desperately want to be an effective person, that's not easily led, that can complete tasks well and diligently. I am diligent, but I veer off course... and that is silly, and I don't mind being thought of as a bit strange, or even eccentric, but I want people to think I'm effective and that I can. I don't want to seem as if I can't.
I crave sweet things, and you. You are sweet but not in an overt way. GF tries to be sweet, but she really isn't. You can see the glint in her curranty little eyes, something approaching malice. Snuffling out a place to be kind with daggers underneath. You're nothing like that. You try not to be sweet, you try to be calm and down to earth, but underneath it all you're very lovely, endearing in your clumsy habits and nice in the best way, without simpering (another thing I can't stand, and hope to goodness I'm not). You are fair and kind to the kids, and you're not bossy with us, and I like the way you are. Mercurial hair, upright and fair, glasses glare laid nightly bare.
Today:
2 clementines-40
a cheese salad sandwich-300
340
cereal-250
some salad-200
800
a smoothie-120
some popcorn-50
970
bread and nutella (1 slice)-100
flake-170
snack-60
1300
I'm due on my period, which is probably why I've felt so tired and why I've ate so much chocolate.
I wonder if you have days like this darling? Dog days, are over. Not as such... I suppose they're just the way sometimes. I wonder if you worry about food. You don't seem to, even when you're spilling it all over yourself. You worry about looking clumsy with it, and probably in an abstract way about being greedy and clearing your plate to look polite, but not in this way. Not like the other women do. Is it because of that that they won't bond with you? I think it's probably just because you're the boss, because I like the way you do what you do. SS doesn't diet, and I don't think JM does really, either. SS is accepted, JM not so much, so it's not reliant on that. RA, one of my favourites, has displayed vague dissatisfaction, like AG, but neither of them seem to care particularly. JW doesn't, and doesn't need to. I don't know what it is; is it tremulousness? JM is tremulous, and so is she in a different way. A stronger way, but it's there, underneath the table with her twisting pen and her half smile- do you get my joke, do you understand I'm not being how you think I am?
I think I get you, dear. I would love to hear all of the things people say about me- good or bad. I'd like to know what they are. I wonder what dogs you, what constitutes your dog days? You seem so cheerful. Money, maybe, or people? It doesn't seem to frustrate you, and I haven't ever heard you mention friends. Shunned in the playground? Then why should you choose to return? I like you. I would have liked you. Can I pinpoint loneliness accurately enough? Am I pinpointing anything accurately?
I wonder what you think about me. Am I a little puppy, do you find the tone of my voice irritating but want to ruffle my hair nontheless? Do you hate looking at me, and think I'm terrible at what I'm doing? I've got a silly way of twisting words... reconfiguring timetables, you said, "Ah, that'll be good, because you know some German and MC knows a bit of...", and I jumped in, "how to deal with the kids better", and you said, "no, more... what to do if it's a bit slow". Twisting twisting, and now you're going to think I'm awful. Noone was particularly glad that I was employed, except for GF and I can be sure that she wouldn't have chosen me, and that the gladness was most probably faked. I don't know why, and I know that LC had more experience and was probably generally better, but I would really rather I'd been offered it on the spot. I'd been first choice. Was it a toss up between us, and she just won out, or was it that I was a reluctant second, because the other person didn't turn up and the other two were awful? Do you think I'm a silly girl?
That would be the worst thing, unless you liked it. Isn't it strange that things seem so bad in me, but if you liked them, then maybe I could too. But you're not the sort that craves sweetness, you crave effective people, I think. Effective, decent people that you don't feel nervous around, because they might skitter off into some kind of unknown territory before you can blink, silly girls that worry about silly things, far removed from spheres of what's necessary. I desperately want to be an effective person, that's not easily led, that can complete tasks well and diligently. I am diligent, but I veer off course... and that is silly, and I don't mind being thought of as a bit strange, or even eccentric, but I want people to think I'm effective and that I can. I don't want to seem as if I can't.
I crave sweet things, and you. You are sweet but not in an overt way. GF tries to be sweet, but she really isn't. You can see the glint in her curranty little eyes, something approaching malice. Snuffling out a place to be kind with daggers underneath. You're nothing like that. You try not to be sweet, you try to be calm and down to earth, but underneath it all you're very lovely, endearing in your clumsy habits and nice in the best way, without simpering (another thing I can't stand, and hope to goodness I'm not). You are fair and kind to the kids, and you're not bossy with us, and I like the way you are. Mercurial hair, upright and fair, glasses glare laid nightly bare.
Wednesday 18 March 2009
I like my colleagues.
I try to project an image of someone that doesn't care about body image or food. I think I might be getting away with it. I'm not sure. I find it bizarre that all these grown women are on diets or feeding money to a diet culture- do what I do, and do it for free! I might be damaging my psyche by totting it all up, and feeling weird, but I'm trying to snap myself out of it, and when I did go through that blip I didn't spend money. I did it on my own- my meals planned, my exercise was free. I want the girls to be like this, as much as they can- the first part, not caring.
I think you, Mercury, are like this. JM said you can get angry today. You speak in a voice that makes people do things. I had a snippet of that today; but it has to be spite, or malice, that evokes that voice. It can't just be general noisiness, and I don't mind if they're vile to me; in my position, it's expected. It's vile to each other that I can't stand.
Are you really and truly past caring what people think of you? Sometimes I think you are, and other times I wonder, because there's something in the faux relaxed tension of your shoulders that says, I am nervous. You'd never talk about weightwatchers. What do you think of me? Did you want to hire someone else; are you wishing you had? Someone less flighty and silly, and more down to earth. I would like to be down to earth. I can't quite figure it though.
I try to project an image of someone that doesn't care about body image or food. I think I might be getting away with it. I'm not sure. I find it bizarre that all these grown women are on diets or feeding money to a diet culture- do what I do, and do it for free! I might be damaging my psyche by totting it all up, and feeling weird, but I'm trying to snap myself out of it, and when I did go through that blip I didn't spend money. I did it on my own- my meals planned, my exercise was free. I want the girls to be like this, as much as they can- the first part, not caring.
I think you, Mercury, are like this. JM said you can get angry today. You speak in a voice that makes people do things. I had a snippet of that today; but it has to be spite, or malice, that evokes that voice. It can't just be general noisiness, and I don't mind if they're vile to me; in my position, it's expected. It's vile to each other that I can't stand.
Are you really and truly past caring what people think of you? Sometimes I think you are, and other times I wonder, because there's something in the faux relaxed tension of your shoulders that says, I am nervous. You'd never talk about weightwatchers. What do you think of me? Did you want to hire someone else; are you wishing you had? Someone less flighty and silly, and more down to earth. I would like to be down to earth. I can't quite figure it though.
A good day today.
Always overshadowed a bit; this time by colleague worry. I am a bit of an overenthusiastic loser, and I hope the things I say don't sound pompous or judgemental.
There's a colleague they all dislike; and, to be honest, I dislike her as well. She's hugely fat- she's got a waddle, out of breath after walking upstairs, and talks in a saccharine-sweet way. MC, who's brilliant with everyone, says she hates the way she talks to the girls, and she gets on her nerves. I never thought of the way she talked to the girls, but the way she talks to us as a group irritates me. They say she gives us menial jobs to do because she's the manager; I have to admit, she did give me some filing the other day. This worried me because I wonder if they all hate me as well? I'd never know.
The people I thought hated me don't, and others excel, and one is aiming high (though this is not due to my input, but I am impressed nontheless).
She (irritating colleague) asked ten times if there would be anywhere to eat, on this outing we're going on. It feels unfair that this is another stick to beat her with, but I don't care.
I am obsessed with eating, but in a different way... I'd rather be me than her. If they dislike me it will be because of my loud irritating ways and because I overcomplicate when I'm meant to simplify and I don't know what I'm doing yet and because I'm patronising or cold to the girls. I would hate it if the last two were true.
2 biscuits-100
rice chicken salad-400
some raisins-40
540
carrot cake-100
3 slices of toast-300
a smoothie-120
1060
spaghetti-300
a biscuit-85
1445
OK, could be better, could be worse.
It's alright for today, but I want to start walking more. Tomorrow I am going to walk, because I won't have a rehearsal on. I can walk or bike for the next four days or so.
I shouldn't assimilate biking and walking and control, because I enjoy them, and what if I start not to?
There's a colleague they all dislike; and, to be honest, I dislike her as well. She's hugely fat- she's got a waddle, out of breath after walking upstairs, and talks in a saccharine-sweet way. MC, who's brilliant with everyone, says she hates the way she talks to the girls, and she gets on her nerves. I never thought of the way she talked to the girls, but the way she talks to us as a group irritates me. They say she gives us menial jobs to do because she's the manager; I have to admit, she did give me some filing the other day. This worried me because I wonder if they all hate me as well? I'd never know.
The people I thought hated me don't, and others excel, and one is aiming high (though this is not due to my input, but I am impressed nontheless).
She (irritating colleague) asked ten times if there would be anywhere to eat, on this outing we're going on. It feels unfair that this is another stick to beat her with, but I don't care.
I am obsessed with eating, but in a different way... I'd rather be me than her. If they dislike me it will be because of my loud irritating ways and because I overcomplicate when I'm meant to simplify and I don't know what I'm doing yet and because I'm patronising or cold to the girls. I would hate it if the last two were true.
2 biscuits-100
rice chicken salad-400
some raisins-40
540
carrot cake-100
3 slices of toast-300
a smoothie-120
1060
spaghetti-300
a biscuit-85
1445
OK, could be better, could be worse.
It's alright for today, but I want to start walking more. Tomorrow I am going to walk, because I won't have a rehearsal on. I can walk or bike for the next four days or so.
I shouldn't assimilate biking and walking and control, because I enjoy them, and what if I start not to?
Monday 16 March 2009
A good day today
Except for two laughing at me... but I don't mind so much.
My best compliment was:
"The help you give is really good, not everyone's is so good".
From the French. I like the woman that gave it, and I like the child I help there- but I can't help thinking it's too easy. I mean, I'm not MC, I haven't got a relationship. I haven't won any badasses over. I know a bit of French, but MC's definitely clever enough to know it, and gets on fine without it, so it's not that I'm doing something she couldn't do.
But it's good to think that someone thinks I'm doing the right thing, after me being worried that I'm constantly doing the wrong thing and wondering if it's OK.
I like my job.
I like you.
Your hair caught the light shafts this morning, in assembly. I always thought it was grey, grey iron grey, but in the light it was brown, chestnut almost red, my colour. I should have known you'd have mercurial hair. Looking at you reminded me of this indian myth I'd read as a child; about a girl who was old in winter and young in summer. You looked halfway through that change, with half your hair lit and your face framed in grey. Beautiful both ways. I like the pride of your profile and the sense of your glasses. They're a sensible cats-eye shape with silver edging on the top. I wonder if you've been taken in hand by someone, because you look years younger than you do on your picture that's on the card. They moan about you in the staffroom, I wonder if they bitch about me too?
Though you are so proud, and a little bit awkward sounding on the phone.
My best compliment was:
"The help you give is really good, not everyone's is so good".
From the French. I like the woman that gave it, and I like the child I help there- but I can't help thinking it's too easy. I mean, I'm not MC, I haven't got a relationship. I haven't won any badasses over. I know a bit of French, but MC's definitely clever enough to know it, and gets on fine without it, so it's not that I'm doing something she couldn't do.
But it's good to think that someone thinks I'm doing the right thing, after me being worried that I'm constantly doing the wrong thing and wondering if it's OK.
I like my job.
I like you.
Your hair caught the light shafts this morning, in assembly. I always thought it was grey, grey iron grey, but in the light it was brown, chestnut almost red, my colour. I should have known you'd have mercurial hair. Looking at you reminded me of this indian myth I'd read as a child; about a girl who was old in winter and young in summer. You looked halfway through that change, with half your hair lit and your face framed in grey. Beautiful both ways. I like the pride of your profile and the sense of your glasses. They're a sensible cats-eye shape with silver edging on the top. I wonder if you've been taken in hand by someone, because you look years younger than you do on your picture that's on the card. They moan about you in the staffroom, I wonder if they bitch about me too?
Though you are so proud, and a little bit awkward sounding on the phone.
Thursday 12 March 2009
Here's the thing.
You have placed a chill in my heart.
Through screaming corridors and pent up girls you're unfurled. That's wrong, there's nothing so sweet about you as that word, unfurled, though it does circumnavigate the kind of calm you produce. Still stood, maybe. You are kind.
You sat at the table, where DD and I were talking, and I'd never seen you be tired before, but you were. You leant your head on your forearms on the table and the strong silken strands fanned out from the centre of your scalp, they range brown to grey, like a halo. I would have liked to stroke your hair. I like the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. Your hair falls back to that perfect bob whenever you move your head.
DD is garrulous to a fault (though she knows what she's doing, she's definite and good about it, not like I am... she knows the rules). I have not a clue. You're like that too, and maybe it's because I always want to listen to what you say, but I think you talk the right amount. Not too much and not too little. You can be silent and you can laugh. You're very beautiful.
Through screaming corridors and pent up girls you're unfurled. That's wrong, there's nothing so sweet about you as that word, unfurled, though it does circumnavigate the kind of calm you produce. Still stood, maybe. You are kind.
You sat at the table, where DD and I were talking, and I'd never seen you be tired before, but you were. You leant your head on your forearms on the table and the strong silken strands fanned out from the centre of your scalp, they range brown to grey, like a halo. I would have liked to stroke your hair. I like the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. Your hair falls back to that perfect bob whenever you move your head.
DD is garrulous to a fault (though she knows what she's doing, she's definite and good about it, not like I am... she knows the rules). I have not a clue. You're like that too, and maybe it's because I always want to listen to what you say, but I think you talk the right amount. Not too much and not too little. You can be silent and you can laugh. You're very beautiful.
I ate a lot today.
apple-40
pasta-400
cereals-300
1/2 a bagel-100
1/2 a croissant-100
940
2 sausages, some mash and some veg-400
6 chocolates-200
twix-280
So 1800. It could be worse, and it could be better. Tomorrow will be above count as well, because I'm planning on drinking.
You weren't in today, I don't know where you were. There was a bit of a weird atmosphere, I couldn't figure out what was going on, I didn't know what to do when I thought someone was being bullied and they don't really respect me... so I suppose I'll have to do more about it. I'll have to think properly. I feel like everyone knows how to do my job better than I do, even my Dad, who I've always regarded as something of an autistic savante. He's not meant to know people. I don't know people, and I certainly can't command them. Occasionally I can charm, but that's wearing thin in this job, where it's about personality, not charm. Charm's a veneer for those that don't know better, that haven't got real substance. I worry I don't know enough about people to be sure what I'm doing is right, and I worry what I'm doing is wrong, and I worry that even if I do make a move it'll screw up whatever everyone else is doing.
apple-40
pasta-400
cereals-300
1/2 a bagel-100
1/2 a croissant-100
940
2 sausages, some mash and some veg-400
6 chocolates-200
twix-280
So 1800. It could be worse, and it could be better. Tomorrow will be above count as well, because I'm planning on drinking.
You weren't in today, I don't know where you were. There was a bit of a weird atmosphere, I couldn't figure out what was going on, I didn't know what to do when I thought someone was being bullied and they don't really respect me... so I suppose I'll have to do more about it. I'll have to think properly. I feel like everyone knows how to do my job better than I do, even my Dad, who I've always regarded as something of an autistic savante. He's not meant to know people. I don't know people, and I certainly can't command them. Occasionally I can charm, but that's wearing thin in this job, where it's about personality, not charm. Charm's a veneer for those that don't know better, that haven't got real substance. I worry I don't know enough about people to be sure what I'm doing is right, and I worry what I'm doing is wrong, and I worry that even if I do make a move it'll screw up whatever everyone else is doing.
Tuesday 10 March 2009
I ate today:
an apple-50
a pasta pot-400
cake-300
grape juice-150
pizza=300
an eccles cake-300
900 and 600 is 1500. I haven't burnt enough calories for that; it would have been fine, I didn't really need the whole eccles cake. I could have not eaten that. Tomorrow's plan is to go on a walk and not think so much about food; to have my snack coming in, and then wait. I might weigh myself on Friday, or go and
I ate about four (maybe five) pieces of veg and fruit.
Anyway. You're beautiful, as usual.
I am worried about my job, and whether I'm good at it or not.
an apple-50
a pasta pot-400
cake-300
grape juice-150
pizza=300
an eccles cake-300
900 and 600 is 1500. I haven't burnt enough calories for that; it would have been fine, I didn't really need the whole eccles cake. I could have not eaten that. Tomorrow's plan is to go on a walk and not think so much about food; to have my snack coming in, and then wait. I might weigh myself on Friday, or go and
I ate about four (maybe five) pieces of veg and fruit.
Anyway. You're beautiful, as usual.
I am worried about my job, and whether I'm good at it or not.
Monday 9 March 2009
Would you still think I was beautiful if you knew that I was ineffective?
I have a lack of authority.
I don't want to be JM, but I might be headed that way.
I'd rather be MC. I think she should be a teacher. She's brilliant at what she does. I don't think GCSE's matter particularly- it's evident she's bright enough for pretty much anything, I'd listen if she taught, and she'd do it a damn sight better than I do.
They think she's cool, and they respect her- but I can't do that, because I try too hard and I'm some kind of autistic spectrum somehow, behaviour from books.
Calories today:
An apple-40
A sandwich (tuna and cucumber)-350
cake -300
a smoothie-150
spaghetti-350
All in all, 1200. I think that's pretty good. I didn't let myself starve and I didn't gorge either- it worked out pretty well.
Anyway, you talked to me today about your daughter who shares a health problem with me. You wanted to know about curing it, and I suggested weight gain. You laughed. You said your daughter's blonde and fair. Were you? I can't quite believe it. I catch hints of brown in your hair sometimes. I conjured up a fairy child, about my age, but maybe that's not it. You didn't say, yes, she could do with gaining a few stone. You said, it's not the way women's body image is, is it? Buck the trend, then you laughed. I wish I knew how you felt about calories and all the rest. Ridiculous or not? Something you secretly abide by?
This disease, it's not anything mental- it's a circulatory problem.
I liked when you sat opposite me when I was marking things and looked very earnest. It's evident that you love your family. Beautiful hair, lovely face. It's never as elegant in my drawings as it is in real life. I try to be true, adding the bump in your nose, but I harden your jawline too much and I make your nose too big, and your eyes are too small to be real. In real life, you're far more attractive a prospect. Bright blue eyes and a dignified nose, but it's not too big, it's the right sort of size for your face. Long and sculpted, dignified, of course, like everything about you. I like the way your trousers hang about your long slim legs, and the way you're bundled safe into black velvet. I even like those ugly boots you wear.
Why don't you like non-uniform days? You don't seem overly prim, just staid enough to be safe and to make me feel better about being around you. Are you like me, you don't want to wear normal clothes to work because they're scruffier than what you always wear? You rotate your wardrobe every week, so maybe these are the only clothes you have. Maybe you're disappointed about how you look in clothes? I'm not. You're seldom seen out of work, because you've got nothing to wear? Because you don't care, and you don't want anything because you're happy going rambling and feeding chickens and driving about visiting far off peaks? This is what I imagine, the last one. Am I one of the beautiful people? I daresay no. I think your estimation of me is a flitty young thing who's ridiculous, at times, and far too optimistic. Flippant and insubstantial.
I don't know if I could sink into you, the way I used to want to, because I feel like I'm falling short, but I do still hold you in the highest regard. Love letters not for recipient.
I don't want to be JM, but I might be headed that way.
I'd rather be MC. I think she should be a teacher. She's brilliant at what she does. I don't think GCSE's matter particularly- it's evident she's bright enough for pretty much anything, I'd listen if she taught, and she'd do it a damn sight better than I do.
They think she's cool, and they respect her- but I can't do that, because I try too hard and I'm some kind of autistic spectrum somehow, behaviour from books.
Calories today:
An apple-40
A sandwich (tuna and cucumber)-350
cake -300
a smoothie-150
spaghetti-350
All in all, 1200. I think that's pretty good. I didn't let myself starve and I didn't gorge either- it worked out pretty well.
Anyway, you talked to me today about your daughter who shares a health problem with me. You wanted to know about curing it, and I suggested weight gain. You laughed. You said your daughter's blonde and fair. Were you? I can't quite believe it. I catch hints of brown in your hair sometimes. I conjured up a fairy child, about my age, but maybe that's not it. You didn't say, yes, she could do with gaining a few stone. You said, it's not the way women's body image is, is it? Buck the trend, then you laughed. I wish I knew how you felt about calories and all the rest. Ridiculous or not? Something you secretly abide by?
This disease, it's not anything mental- it's a circulatory problem.
I liked when you sat opposite me when I was marking things and looked very earnest. It's evident that you love your family. Beautiful hair, lovely face. It's never as elegant in my drawings as it is in real life. I try to be true, adding the bump in your nose, but I harden your jawline too much and I make your nose too big, and your eyes are too small to be real. In real life, you're far more attractive a prospect. Bright blue eyes and a dignified nose, but it's not too big, it's the right sort of size for your face. Long and sculpted, dignified, of course, like everything about you. I like the way your trousers hang about your long slim legs, and the way you're bundled safe into black velvet. I even like those ugly boots you wear.
Why don't you like non-uniform days? You don't seem overly prim, just staid enough to be safe and to make me feel better about being around you. Are you like me, you don't want to wear normal clothes to work because they're scruffier than what you always wear? You rotate your wardrobe every week, so maybe these are the only clothes you have. Maybe you're disappointed about how you look in clothes? I'm not. You're seldom seen out of work, because you've got nothing to wear? Because you don't care, and you don't want anything because you're happy going rambling and feeding chickens and driving about visiting far off peaks? This is what I imagine, the last one. Am I one of the beautiful people? I daresay no. I think your estimation of me is a flitty young thing who's ridiculous, at times, and far too optimistic. Flippant and insubstantial.
I don't know if I could sink into you, the way I used to want to, because I feel like I'm falling short, but I do still hold you in the highest regard. Love letters not for recipient.
Thursday 5 March 2009
Rambling all over you.
I wonder what your husband says when you trot in from work? I wonder if he tells you you're beautiful? I so want someone to be telling you what you're worth in my estimation, so you know you've got someone's esteem well and truly pinned without trying, particularly. Who is it that you come out and chat for? Is it JM, or is it AG? I can't decide.
Another day of counting wrong and wondering if I really know what I want. But at least I've got options, lots of them.
Oh darling, the reason I like you is that you're safe. You don't smoke or drink much, I don't think, and you don't get angry, not really. You're so private and closed off, and I just want to open you up and see you really, properly. I'm stockpiling the compliments that other people give you. "She had a nice air about her, decent". Did you know someone said that today? She's right. You have got that reassuring calm quality. I'm always fractious. You're not the sort of person that would want to have threesomes, or elaborate sex with whips and chains (or maybe you are, and that's your secret?). I'd think you'd be the kind that would curl up in bed, and slowly undress between covers, very sweet and gentle, and firm. Shy. I can tell you're shy by the way you fidget with pens and cross one long leg over the other, and the way you hunch your shoulders round your heart. Is that to stop anyone else seeing what's inside? I'd like to see. You weren't angry when I wasn't where I was supposed to be. Your name backwards sounds latinate scandinavian, like some kind of fresh spring blooming flower. That's not you at all, you're a tree. Perennial, something hardy and interesting to look at. An elm, or oak. You're nothing so stampable as a flower. There's something very jointed and delicate about you, though, despite the way you career about dropping your lunch. DD nitpicked in your office- she was shocked you'd left your pay packet on the desk. I thought that was good. You trust us not to look, see. That's what I wanted to say, but there's a certain way of saying.
I like you, anyway. Hecate.
Another day of counting wrong and wondering if I really know what I want. But at least I've got options, lots of them.
Oh darling, the reason I like you is that you're safe. You don't smoke or drink much, I don't think, and you don't get angry, not really. You're so private and closed off, and I just want to open you up and see you really, properly. I'm stockpiling the compliments that other people give you. "She had a nice air about her, decent". Did you know someone said that today? She's right. You have got that reassuring calm quality. I'm always fractious. You're not the sort of person that would want to have threesomes, or elaborate sex with whips and chains (or maybe you are, and that's your secret?). I'd think you'd be the kind that would curl up in bed, and slowly undress between covers, very sweet and gentle, and firm. Shy. I can tell you're shy by the way you fidget with pens and cross one long leg over the other, and the way you hunch your shoulders round your heart. Is that to stop anyone else seeing what's inside? I'd like to see. You weren't angry when I wasn't where I was supposed to be. Your name backwards sounds latinate scandinavian, like some kind of fresh spring blooming flower. That's not you at all, you're a tree. Perennial, something hardy and interesting to look at. An elm, or oak. You're nothing so stampable as a flower. There's something very jointed and delicate about you, though, despite the way you career about dropping your lunch. DD nitpicked in your office- she was shocked you'd left your pay packet on the desk. I thought that was good. You trust us not to look, see. That's what I wanted to say, but there's a certain way of saying.
I like you, anyway. Hecate.
Wednesday 4 March 2009
I like my job, but I'm terrified I'm no good at it at all.
Have I got the right stuff? I can't seem to make people listen to me.
I don't know. I don't even think it's because I'm young, it's something else entirely.
Oh oh, how you're my hero.
I do like you a lot; I'm so tired. I like being tired, it makes me feel satisfied about how I've spent the day. You're about five feet eight, same as me, in stocking feet. Maybe five seven. Morose rollicking walk. It's strange that the way you move can evoke both those things, you oxymoron, maybe it's you instead, because your hair's sensible and so are your clothes, always with a little suggestion you'd have liked to be something else... a whimsical brooch on sensible black velvet. I wonder what you were like, when you were young? I wonder what your middle name is. You're no iron lady. Your hair sits just below your strong jawline. I can't get over how lovely it is, I just want to look. All the time.
We stood very close together the other day, so close that we were almost touching. I wondered what you'd do if, there and then, I reached out and held your hand. I stood so that you were in the corner of my eye, just a glint of steely bob and the light flashing off your glasses from the window reflection, and a grey-clad shoulder. Always in grey or black and white, or clean turquoise (a nod to liveliness) but always the muted widowing shades. I suppose I like them too, looking gothic as I do, but there's always some vibrancy. No warm colours for you, though. No reds, no browns. Rarely a cream. Not even a necklace, but you do wear a watch. I bet you think I'm silly- two necklaces that alternate to cover my lack of bust, and no watch whatsoever. You must think I'm just floating about the place, not even anchored by time to anything of any use. I wondered if you'd come in just for me, just to chat to me. I don't think that's the case at all. I just wanted to indulge the fantasy.
All the people I work with radiate an air of safety, this air that whatever you tell them it will be alright, and whatever anyone else does around them will not penetrate their safe aura. They're not feared people, but they're healers. I am no healer. I am drifting and tangential and tangled, and they're simplifiers that lead and assuage. I am not that good at this. I can fake the voice, but it's flat not warm, I can fake smiling but I'll always look strange-skewed over awkwardness. This isn't a job for anyone on the autistic spectrum, I reckon. I can't make them feel safe, and that's what makes me feel bad. I can't create a safe environment because I've got no control.
So here is what I must do. I must expect to have control, think of more things to do, and expect to be a safe person that can talk and ask and not be shy about giving compliments.
I couldn't care less about what I've eaten today because it's all going to be wrong anyway. At least I got five portions of fruit and veg.
I don't know. I don't even think it's because I'm young, it's something else entirely.
Oh oh, how you're my hero.
I do like you a lot; I'm so tired. I like being tired, it makes me feel satisfied about how I've spent the day. You're about five feet eight, same as me, in stocking feet. Maybe five seven. Morose rollicking walk. It's strange that the way you move can evoke both those things, you oxymoron, maybe it's you instead, because your hair's sensible and so are your clothes, always with a little suggestion you'd have liked to be something else... a whimsical brooch on sensible black velvet. I wonder what you were like, when you were young? I wonder what your middle name is. You're no iron lady. Your hair sits just below your strong jawline. I can't get over how lovely it is, I just want to look. All the time.
We stood very close together the other day, so close that we were almost touching. I wondered what you'd do if, there and then, I reached out and held your hand. I stood so that you were in the corner of my eye, just a glint of steely bob and the light flashing off your glasses from the window reflection, and a grey-clad shoulder. Always in grey or black and white, or clean turquoise (a nod to liveliness) but always the muted widowing shades. I suppose I like them too, looking gothic as I do, but there's always some vibrancy. No warm colours for you, though. No reds, no browns. Rarely a cream. Not even a necklace, but you do wear a watch. I bet you think I'm silly- two necklaces that alternate to cover my lack of bust, and no watch whatsoever. You must think I'm just floating about the place, not even anchored by time to anything of any use. I wondered if you'd come in just for me, just to chat to me. I don't think that's the case at all. I just wanted to indulge the fantasy.
All the people I work with radiate an air of safety, this air that whatever you tell them it will be alright, and whatever anyone else does around them will not penetrate their safe aura. They're not feared people, but they're healers. I am no healer. I am drifting and tangential and tangled, and they're simplifiers that lead and assuage. I am not that good at this. I can fake the voice, but it's flat not warm, I can fake smiling but I'll always look strange-skewed over awkwardness. This isn't a job for anyone on the autistic spectrum, I reckon. I can't make them feel safe, and that's what makes me feel bad. I can't create a safe environment because I've got no control.
So here is what I must do. I must expect to have control, think of more things to do, and expect to be a safe person that can talk and ask and not be shy about giving compliments.
I couldn't care less about what I've eaten today because it's all going to be wrong anyway. At least I got five portions of fruit and veg.
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