There's only one that I truly despise, a little worm of a child, a sly one whose friends despise her also. She'll never be pretty in any way, nor beautiful; she is a vile person, self-seeking, hypochondriac, martyrdom-bound, horrific. Her jaw overpronates, her hair is frequently lank and greasy, her cheeks are spattered with eczema and she irks me awfully. She insisted on showing me her awful poetry once I took the vaguest interest. I despise people who are too open, who want to share it all straight away, get you on their side etcetera.
I don't know why I wrote that.
I would like to tell you lots of things, my women. You aren't mine, of course (never are), but I would like you to know the beautiful things about yourselves, because sometimes I think that you aren't sure. That you have set off this feeling without intending to, that you are amazing articles of personhood, ah. I don't know.
When I think of JF I think of her putting her head on my shoulder and sighing, because she sighs frequently over people not grasping linguistic structures and being generally irksome. I sigh in return, because sometimes I do too. I think of her hands, with their neat shining fingernails, relaxing slowly into my back. I think of my arm linking over her shoulder, and the other finding the midsection of her back, where all the tension collects and rubbing it away.
Wednesday 15 July 2009
'til I met you.
Is always the prefix to lovesongs. There's never more than one absolute love, but there really is. I fall for people all the time; none of them are absolute, which is worrying because am I missing people all the time, assuming there'll be another one later? I fall slowly, but easily. It just takes someone strong, interesting and intelligent to reveal a sudden vulnerability, and I'm undone. Age doesn't matter. Neither does gender, or physicality, because anyone that has those things is automatically beautiful to me. I can find beauty. I am a magnifier of the aesthetic, for these qualities, for people who have these qualities.
It's true, though, that when there's one person, there is just one person.
There was a desperate man at the pub today. He came on to my Mum, and then to me, and made horrific comments. He said, "I came over on the banana boat, she wasn't far behind"- pointing to one of my sister's friends. He wore an open necked shirt revealing greying chest hair, and incited us to guess his age. K, my sister's friend, was the unfortunate recipient of a tap on the fist (because, as she is black, she must like that sort of thing, odious man) and a, "nah, you're alright". He certainly wasn't. I could see exactly the type of man he was; he was RA's age, and had similar background; british Asian. She hated being referred to as British Asian; she was Indian, she said, and it was hard for her to accept the British aspects of herself. It irritates her when people say they are both. The pub man was the opposite; he'd anglicised his name, he said he was English and made jokes before anyone else did; he was anticipating our racism, anticipating the racism of others, assuming that everyone makes jokes behind his back so he'd better do it in the open before they get a chance, and at least if they do, he's said the worst things out loud, the things that are used as weapons to ostracise and divide. I could imagine the child he was; trying to get in on everyone's games, reasoning that the reason they didn't want him was because of his race (it might have been then, god only knows times have changed). A small, skinny boy with ruffled hair in grey cotton shorts standing on hot tarmac scowling, feeling the prickle of panic puncture his stomach, because the gang is playing hide and seek and they have hidden from him. He can't go home; the sweat makes a thin film on his lip, his father will ask where he is, what he's been doing with those white children, doesn't he know they'll only reject him, only turn on him later on. You can't trust them. Best to stick to your studies; but he always disappoints, he's in the middle, not at the top. Make a joke, make them like you. Make them unable to say it before you have. K hated him; I hated him. I hated that he forced his own complexes onto her, assumed that just because they had something vaguely in common that it was alright for him to say things like that. I think we all disliked him. He was drunk, but inebriation is an extension of your ego and id, I think. We have ridiculous and awful things lurking inside us that we usually manage to suppress, but a few beverages and...
It's true, though, that when there's one person, there is just one person.
There was a desperate man at the pub today. He came on to my Mum, and then to me, and made horrific comments. He said, "I came over on the banana boat, she wasn't far behind"- pointing to one of my sister's friends. He wore an open necked shirt revealing greying chest hair, and incited us to guess his age. K, my sister's friend, was the unfortunate recipient of a tap on the fist (because, as she is black, she must like that sort of thing, odious man) and a, "nah, you're alright". He certainly wasn't. I could see exactly the type of man he was; he was RA's age, and had similar background; british Asian. She hated being referred to as British Asian; she was Indian, she said, and it was hard for her to accept the British aspects of herself. It irritates her when people say they are both. The pub man was the opposite; he'd anglicised his name, he said he was English and made jokes before anyone else did; he was anticipating our racism, anticipating the racism of others, assuming that everyone makes jokes behind his back so he'd better do it in the open before they get a chance, and at least if they do, he's said the worst things out loud, the things that are used as weapons to ostracise and divide. I could imagine the child he was; trying to get in on everyone's games, reasoning that the reason they didn't want him was because of his race (it might have been then, god only knows times have changed). A small, skinny boy with ruffled hair in grey cotton shorts standing on hot tarmac scowling, feeling the prickle of panic puncture his stomach, because the gang is playing hide and seek and they have hidden from him. He can't go home; the sweat makes a thin film on his lip, his father will ask where he is, what he's been doing with those white children, doesn't he know they'll only reject him, only turn on him later on. You can't trust them. Best to stick to your studies; but he always disappoints, he's in the middle, not at the top. Make a joke, make them like you. Make them unable to say it before you have. K hated him; I hated him. I hated that he forced his own complexes onto her, assumed that just because they had something vaguely in common that it was alright for him to say things like that. I think we all disliked him. He was drunk, but inebriation is an extension of your ego and id, I think. We have ridiculous and awful things lurking inside us that we usually manage to suppress, but a few beverages and...
Monday 13 July 2009
A thing I find really irritating is...
When people expect me to fulfil obligations punctually but do not do so themselves. Why am I more or less important than you in the scheme of things, and why would you find yourself above fulfilling your part of the contract?
Ah, and I wonder why it is that when people dislike someone it makes me like them more secretively?
biscuits-120
smoothie-100
baked potato-400
a biscuit-70
2 digestives-150
squash lollies-20
couscous and salad-450
scotch eggs (2.5)-150
chocolate-150
muesli-350
And I thought I'd done OK. I really haven't. Here's a note to myself- do not eat so damn much tomorrow. Especially after school. Go on a walk, for god's sake.
And, ah, I don't know why, but I enjoy the company of JF, linguist. She's ridiculously posh, and hasn't got the best rapport. She's commandeering and doesn't bond, and they don't even do what they're told half the time; AN has got a far better hold. I don't know how. I suppose that she's got strong features, and she's good to have a gossip with, and I like chatting to her. She's interesting. I think she likes my company. She is easily upset by ill-wishers, which I find vaguely ridiculous and fairly endearing. I suppose that women like MC and NG are strong enough for a variety of things, for withstanding- but I am not, and I don't think that JF is either. And people can tell, how far to push it, and how far one will care and how far one will not, and the worth of pushing. JF is at no risk of breaking, and I can't quite put my finger on the quality that the other two have; something that allows them to keep discipline without having to ask about it, or command it. I like the way she makes a stand without being worried what I think.
I don't know why I prefer her company to LC's. I find LC boring, I suppose, and flimsy- there's something quite feeble about the shrill pitch of her voice, like it's a stretching softened plastic piece and I get bored by it easily. Her face looks like a little girl's, made adult. She looks po-faced, though she isn't really... the sort of face that would have made her a pretty child but looks prim into adulthood- no amount of pastel-bright shoes or well-designed fabric will sway that, and she doesn't help herself with the blonde bob cut and the pink lips. JF, on the other hand, has got a lovely voice, it's deep and resonant, and I like to listen. It's the sort of vocal tone that I might like to have. I can imagine her singing well. Isn't it strange. What we find interesting. And I like whining with her- she whines like a little girl- my betting is an only child, or the youngest, not liking things and disliking doing them. Bitching is fairly amusing. A bonding ritual; I do not like this, and so it follows. My enemy's enemy is my friend, though there are no enemies, just vague annoyances and allies.
SC and NG dislike JF; her tone is probably enough to put a fair few people off her. Do people form their tones, or do tones pick people, and make others react to them and form their personalities that way? Either way, I've ascertained that JF's slightly-too-posh voice, her way of dropping at the end of sentences and the drawl-y sort of sarcasm that she uses makes them think that she is putting them down- that she is saying, "I am better than you, I do not care for your line of work". She may well think this, but I don't think she's said it, and it's a shame that a vocal pattern conveys such disdain. I wonder what mine is like? I show off too much. There's a lot of tonal variation and vocal slipping, which makes me seem quite cheerful, I think. I'm probably saved by my own cheerfulness, else everyone would think me a dreadful bore, or a know-it-all. I'm saved by my movement as well; I can't help skipping about constantly or moving when I'm happy or excited, and I think that it makes me non-threatening. People can see how I feel, not so for JF. But others are liked and threatening, like MC. It's a dichotomy.
A lot of my colleagues don't like the way the Tstaff speak to us; they think they're looking down on us. I never have, that, or my aspergers-type personality is simply impervious to snottiness. I think it's a fairly good way to be. Water off a duck's back, and wounded by imaginary things.
biscuits-120
smoothie-100
baked potato-400
a biscuit-70
2 digestives-150
squash lollies-20
couscous and salad-450
scotch eggs (2.5)-150
chocolate-150
muesli-350
Shit.
1970
And I thought I'd done OK. I really haven't. Here's a note to myself- do not eat so damn much tomorrow. Especially after school. Go on a walk, for god's sake.
And, ah, I don't know why, but I enjoy the company of JF, linguist. She's ridiculously posh, and hasn't got the best rapport. She's commandeering and doesn't bond, and they don't even do what they're told half the time; AN has got a far better hold. I don't know how. I suppose that she's got strong features, and she's good to have a gossip with, and I like chatting to her. She's interesting. I think she likes my company. She is easily upset by ill-wishers, which I find vaguely ridiculous and fairly endearing. I suppose that women like MC and NG are strong enough for a variety of things, for withstanding- but I am not, and I don't think that JF is either. And people can tell, how far to push it, and how far one will care and how far one will not, and the worth of pushing. JF is at no risk of breaking, and I can't quite put my finger on the quality that the other two have; something that allows them to keep discipline without having to ask about it, or command it. I like the way she makes a stand without being worried what I think.
I don't know why I prefer her company to LC's. I find LC boring, I suppose, and flimsy- there's something quite feeble about the shrill pitch of her voice, like it's a stretching softened plastic piece and I get bored by it easily. Her face looks like a little girl's, made adult. She looks po-faced, though she isn't really... the sort of face that would have made her a pretty child but looks prim into adulthood- no amount of pastel-bright shoes or well-designed fabric will sway that, and she doesn't help herself with the blonde bob cut and the pink lips. JF, on the other hand, has got a lovely voice, it's deep and resonant, and I like to listen. It's the sort of vocal tone that I might like to have. I can imagine her singing well. Isn't it strange. What we find interesting. And I like whining with her- she whines like a little girl- my betting is an only child, or the youngest, not liking things and disliking doing them. Bitching is fairly amusing. A bonding ritual; I do not like this, and so it follows. My enemy's enemy is my friend, though there are no enemies, just vague annoyances and allies.
SC and NG dislike JF; her tone is probably enough to put a fair few people off her. Do people form their tones, or do tones pick people, and make others react to them and form their personalities that way? Either way, I've ascertained that JF's slightly-too-posh voice, her way of dropping at the end of sentences and the drawl-y sort of sarcasm that she uses makes them think that she is putting them down- that she is saying, "I am better than you, I do not care for your line of work". She may well think this, but I don't think she's said it, and it's a shame that a vocal pattern conveys such disdain. I wonder what mine is like? I show off too much. There's a lot of tonal variation and vocal slipping, which makes me seem quite cheerful, I think. I'm probably saved by my own cheerfulness, else everyone would think me a dreadful bore, or a know-it-all. I'm saved by my movement as well; I can't help skipping about constantly or moving when I'm happy or excited, and I think that it makes me non-threatening. People can see how I feel, not so for JF. But others are liked and threatening, like MC. It's a dichotomy.
A lot of my colleagues don't like the way the Tstaff speak to us; they think they're looking down on us. I never have, that, or my aspergers-type personality is simply impervious to snottiness. I think it's a fairly good way to be. Water off a duck's back, and wounded by imaginary things.
Thursday 9 July 2009
"I could eat all day", you said.
And I could watch you all day. Tea and sandwiches together, and I would like to nourish you and bring you treats. I laugh when you're around and I lean in to listen because I like to hear your cadent voice, and I would give you what I could. I would like to have a day eating with you. I would like to make you happy.
It's out there...
Today, one of my favourites, C.W., stood very close to me and made me feel self-conscious. I had walked in and she was the only one in the room- so I said hello, and surprised her, because I am a quiet mover. G.F.'s shoes always squeak- she wonders why (it's because she's huge), so I pride myself on quiet movement because it insinuates the opposite. Anyway, C.W. came close to inspect my face, I think. I've got a sore on the side of my mouth and I wasn't looking my most attractive. I took a half-step to move away, but then I controlled myself and thought, I don't like backing down, so I stood my ground- but she was very close, and I did wonder why...
Today's a day when I need my perceptions changing in every way. I must stop being so fluttery and flimsy. I need to get more of a punch behind what I say... it's just that I can't be bothered, and I spent most of the morning in a state of worry, which is the stupidest way to spend a morning. If I was worth my salt I'd have brushed it off, chalked it up to experience, or reacted in any number of cliche ways- and I did, but the wrong one- obsessing over it. I still am. Because I didn't act with integrity, and I really and truly hate that. I hate that I didn't act right, my conception of right as well as other people's, whose conception of correct matters to me. I'm fed up that I didn't think about it, that I didn't think at all. These things count- they mean so much to me. More than triumphs, failures are my rates and wares.
Alright. Enough. What have I learnt? To think more. To do more. To consider.
I have got two contrasting parts in plays that I was always desperate to be in. And I am so happy about that, so happy. I can hardly wait.
Telling R.A. about this would probably be a good move. I told J.M, but this was only because I could be sure that she would never judge me. I think that J.P. judged me- I could almost see her snorting, she made a snorting face. Which is a shame, because she's another one I admire. I would like to know the verdict of R.A. and D.B. on my actions- this would help me immensely, to know what they would have done. Or even what M.C. would have done. I feel like if I tell her, I'd be an utter fool in her eyes forevermore. I don't think that M.C. would give me many chances. I feel like she's someone that sees the quotidien goodness of people; who they really are- immediately, and awards marks accordingly and secretly as to how many chances they get. Angry young girls like herself- lots. Middle class wafters like me- very few. I probably get on her last nerve. She despises inefficiency. I don't even know how she feels about everyone else- I think she probably likes A.G., and other people that aren't gushing. I am a gusher. And ineffective. This whittles my chances considerably. I really don't enjoy irritating people that I admire.
Today's a day when I need my perceptions changing in every way. I must stop being so fluttery and flimsy. I need to get more of a punch behind what I say... it's just that I can't be bothered, and I spent most of the morning in a state of worry, which is the stupidest way to spend a morning. If I was worth my salt I'd have brushed it off, chalked it up to experience, or reacted in any number of cliche ways- and I did, but the wrong one- obsessing over it. I still am. Because I didn't act with integrity, and I really and truly hate that. I hate that I didn't act right, my conception of right as well as other people's, whose conception of correct matters to me. I'm fed up that I didn't think about it, that I didn't think at all. These things count- they mean so much to me. More than triumphs, failures are my rates and wares.
Alright. Enough. What have I learnt? To think more. To do more. To consider.
I have got two contrasting parts in plays that I was always desperate to be in. And I am so happy about that, so happy. I can hardly wait.
Telling R.A. about this would probably be a good move. I told J.M, but this was only because I could be sure that she would never judge me. I think that J.P. judged me- I could almost see her snorting, she made a snorting face. Which is a shame, because she's another one I admire. I would like to know the verdict of R.A. and D.B. on my actions- this would help me immensely, to know what they would have done. Or even what M.C. would have done. I feel like if I tell her, I'd be an utter fool in her eyes forevermore. I don't think that M.C. would give me many chances. I feel like she's someone that sees the quotidien goodness of people; who they really are- immediately, and awards marks accordingly and secretly as to how many chances they get. Angry young girls like herself- lots. Middle class wafters like me- very few. I probably get on her last nerve. She despises inefficiency. I don't even know how she feels about everyone else- I think she probably likes A.G., and other people that aren't gushing. I am a gusher. And ineffective. This whittles my chances considerably. I really don't enjoy irritating people that I admire.
Here's the thing...
Another day of awful eating. I can't stand it.
And I do only hear what I want to, but what I want to hear is your voice.
"I was eight and a half stone before I had my first child", you said. I replied that I hadn't ever weighed eight and a half stone, but this was a lie because I have, but a small lie. Comparatively.
I had a conflict at work today, not with her but with some people- M.H., and I felt at fault, and I probably was. If M.C. had been there it would never have happened, she would have kept everyone updated and it wouldn't have resulted in the three being plucked out of an assembly that was enjoyable. Ugh. And the way I respond just isn't cricket, and now I am terrified that everyone will believe that I'm an awful disorganised person that chats shit about making a difference but is actually really ineffective and crap and doesn't care about her job at all. I am worried that M.H. thinks I'm vindictive and pre-judging because of how I reacted to one of the resisting girls, I'm worried that I'm judged morally corrupt, and that people will think that I just take decisions without asking anyone else.
I stood our ground, but I didn't stand the ground for the girls, who are my main concern I suppose. I just hate thinking that I've made a glaring error that M.C. wouldn't have made. Though the world is full of good people and bad people, and effective and ineffective people, I worry that I'm on the wrong side. People can appear to be good; look at G.F. Liberal values, works in the public sector, is never overtly nasty, but I can tell that she'd be a dictator if she ever got the chance, and every time she says, "oooh, that colour really suits you", it's to ingratiate herself. Then there's M.C. I've not really heard her compliment anyone, and it's difficult to make conversation with her because she terrifies me, and she can look hatchet faced- but I know that she is good, really good. The girls showed me pictures of her, the terrifying lion girls, and there they were, making stupid faces and M.C. looked so alive and happy, and I wanted to say, "look, this is why she's excellent". She is. Then there's R.A., who is just out-and-out lovely.
And what am I? I really don't know. I just can't fathom it. People who are good seem to like me- my friends, R.A., N.G., but is this because I can make people laugh? M.C. might despise me, for all I know. I suppose that by goodness, I mean people that have integrity. And I really don't know if I have- am I just flippant? I would sometimes far rather be someone else.
Too many biscuits and not enough vegetables today.
And I do only hear what I want to, but what I want to hear is your voice.
"I was eight and a half stone before I had my first child", you said. I replied that I hadn't ever weighed eight and a half stone, but this was a lie because I have, but a small lie. Comparatively.
I had a conflict at work today, not with her but with some people- M.H., and I felt at fault, and I probably was. If M.C. had been there it would never have happened, she would have kept everyone updated and it wouldn't have resulted in the three being plucked out of an assembly that was enjoyable. Ugh. And the way I respond just isn't cricket, and now I am terrified that everyone will believe that I'm an awful disorganised person that chats shit about making a difference but is actually really ineffective and crap and doesn't care about her job at all. I am worried that M.H. thinks I'm vindictive and pre-judging because of how I reacted to one of the resisting girls, I'm worried that I'm judged morally corrupt, and that people will think that I just take decisions without asking anyone else.
I stood our ground, but I didn't stand the ground for the girls, who are my main concern I suppose. I just hate thinking that I've made a glaring error that M.C. wouldn't have made. Though the world is full of good people and bad people, and effective and ineffective people, I worry that I'm on the wrong side. People can appear to be good; look at G.F. Liberal values, works in the public sector, is never overtly nasty, but I can tell that she'd be a dictator if she ever got the chance, and every time she says, "oooh, that colour really suits you", it's to ingratiate herself. Then there's M.C. I've not really heard her compliment anyone, and it's difficult to make conversation with her because she terrifies me, and she can look hatchet faced- but I know that she is good, really good. The girls showed me pictures of her, the terrifying lion girls, and there they were, making stupid faces and M.C. looked so alive and happy, and I wanted to say, "look, this is why she's excellent". She is. Then there's R.A., who is just out-and-out lovely.
And what am I? I really don't know. I just can't fathom it. People who are good seem to like me- my friends, R.A., N.G., but is this because I can make people laugh? M.C. might despise me, for all I know. I suppose that by goodness, I mean people that have integrity. And I really don't know if I have- am I just flippant? I would sometimes far rather be someone else.
Too many biscuits and not enough vegetables today.
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