I want to know

How far people actually esteem me.

A narcissistic goal. But nontheless, I do need to know.

B, for example. She wants me to get up early; I don't want to. It'll be hard. And I'm not brilliant at timekeeping. I value her opinion more because she is a close friend; and she is pushing because she is being pushed, everything that she's going through. But I wouldn't push her like she pushes me.

I feel like this about quite a few people; and it doesn't make me feel safe.

DB, I know, esteems me far lower than I do her. This is alright because I expect it. I expect that it is so. It's so for many people that I work with; I hold them higher, they hold me lower, because I can't do the things that they do. I like this because it gives me something to aspire to. Even if I can do something that they can't (speak French)- it's only momentary- and not essential to what I'm doing- they could do what I do without speaking another language, which is amazing. And that is alright. MH as well.

Lady of the House. I adore her. She's a safe person; but she's someone who I'll never know with. I know that she's happy to walk with me, to talk with me, but she uses the same tactics with me that she does everyone else. She will persuade me with questions when she really wants to question what I think; and this is a good way of persuading, because it makes you justify your opinions, but I do wish that she'd just be blunt and argue with me sometimes. I suppose that I crave contact, and even if that's bellicose it still remains. She's approaching her sexagenarian years, and yet, I adore her. My sister said she looked like she smells, and still I don't care. She wears fleecy jumpers (purples) and she'd come in from the walk, looking ruffled. I'd held her hand crossing ice, thinking she might slide or slip in a car park. I didn't realise that she was slower than I was crossing it until I looked back. She didn't take my hand at first, but when she did she held it as fast as I was holding hers. I can see the person that she is; forceful without forcing, powerful without craving power, and it's beautiful.

Besides, she doesn't smell. She smells of the house, of food. She smells like nourishment and practicalities realised. She sat here, where I'm sitting now, and opened up over cups of tea about how she feels now; single sex relationships, friendships, are paramount, and her husband's in America. She forgets names sometimes. There are so many names in her life; names of the people that go through her home. I feel like a child, in comparison; I haven't done, I haven't been. I'm still here, where I was born, like a snail in its shell. She might despise the little that I have accomplished, being so sheltered and fulfilling what was so expected.

The Lady of the House is a safe person; a sage. She never probes, but gives information about herself willingly. She trusts just enough; she will trust people with her home and her money (but she doesn't regard these as important) but I'd like to think that she hasn't trusted lots of people with things she's told me; about loss, about how losing her children (to other homes) is replicated every time someone leaves her house. I'd like to think that but I can't quite believe it because she shares with everyone, so freely and willingly. She's wise and implacable.

Then, there are (those rare few) who esteem me more than I esteem them. KB- 'thankyou for inspiring me'. In a christmas card. But I know that she must be utterly awful at her job if I can inspire her. There are so many inspirational people that do what we do; it's only because I am like her (awkward, with a degree) that she believes that I am inspirational. I wonder if she would find someone without a degree inspirational, or if she's a snob? Is this why she's not inspired by others- or is it because they're too hard, because they appear hard and brash? The people that I work with are kind and brilliant, and any fool should be able to see that you don't need a degree to be intelligent. But then, why wouldn't she find DB wonderful? It could be because I can speak French and have a modicum of social knowledge. It could be because I don't dress myself in purple constantly. It almost irritates me that she finds me inspirational, because there are so many other people who are far better than I am that she could look to.

I know why it is. We aspire to what we can reach; and I am a strange, odd person that somehow manages to get by with younger ages on enthusiasm alone. She is a strange, odd person that doesn't know how to do that yet. DB is a social phenomenon who is also educated, so could get by with any age, and exhibits intellectual prowess, particularly regarding feminism, which KB, with her awful chick-lit novels, could never realise; she's too far. The others are as well- or maybe she supposes them beneath her, because they're not as educated. This is so ridiculous that I detest even typing it. MC is learning literature; she's a voracious reader. MR is so kind, and so adept at everything, and reads further than KB does. She is better at the same job. Everyone is intelligent; no one would be incapable of completing my degree, but I am incapable of doing what they do. This is the basis of it.

When I see you walking with her, I have to cover my eyes.

Little Bird is bringing a guest to our Sylvester festivities. A weekend with her and a new amour, who I'm not sure about. She professes great feeling, and then nothing comes from it. One of our friends said that she seemed unsure, maybe because this man is nice (and others haven't been)- but I think it could be the disjuncture. Him and me. Me observing- and I will, and she knows I will.

I was angry about this. Alright, she may have a new beau; but to flaunt him in front of me seems cruel. On the other hand, I give her the impression that I don't mind what she does; it was just a night. But it wasn't, not really, because I held those feelings for her for a long time. I don't know how long she reciprocated. And I think, it's not so much that I still feel that for her; it's more that it brought it back, a ghost of it, and now I just want a while to gestate over it.

But what else will she think, if I've concurred with everything she's said about it being momentary? We were both drunk.

Another thing that irritates me is that she always uses hyperbole when she's trying to convince herself of loving someone. He's always the new best thing since sliced bread. With me, there was no hyperbole; or there was, but she couldn't exaggerate to anyone else to convince herself. They never turn out to be the best thing. But then, I wouldn't be either. I only know that she's beautiful, and I can fart with her, and I don't feel embarrassed about anything; watching crappy TV, not reading, lazing about. This is what I miss. I probably still do hold a torch, else it wouldn't be this patent. I wouldn't have typed for so long otherwise.

DB. I am sure she detests me, which makes it more difficult to hold a flame for her. She thinks that I am ridiculous (perjorative). I think that she did admire me for speaking French (you always admire people for things you can't do). I still do, but I can see that it's futile- utterly. I can't even befriend her because I'm too much of a loser.

Bee. I have worked it out. She wants to feel safe, and that's why she waltzes from man to man. She's in need of something to hold onto now that a horrible thing is happening; she needs someone strong and constant, and it can't be us, because we are too touched. She needs someone to hold, because she isn't getting that at the moment.

MH. Another one that would never have me; she prefers men, there's a massive age gap, I'm weak. But I prefer her. See, she's another one that will think I am pathetic for not being able to do what so many in my line of work can; control and enthrall. Which she does with aplomb. I come under her spell, bewitched at the backs of recalcitrant youths. I spend the hour with a silly grin on my face, listening to her sleepy voice weave its way into reluctant minds. She is kind and steadfast, and flexible and unshakeable. She finishes each task she sets me with, 'if you feel OK with it', but she never patronises. She's so eager not to overstrain anyone's capabilities, and gives me lovely things to do. I want to do my best for her. I think that most people do. She's immune to insult from everyone, and I adore this about her, but she will show vulnerability; a split with the father of her child, and the death of her own at a young age. She'll share it without sentiment and tears, sensible, "both a different kind of upset", never twee. Beautiful. I think she is. She would laugh if she heard me say this; she doesn't style herself as a beauty. The furthest I've got towards telling her any of this is, "I'm always impressed with you". Because I am. Today, she danced as a troupe; as a christmas joke. She's got no rhythm, and she didn't move very well; it was sweet, and confident, and I laughed and loved her for it. I want to tell her that she's kind, not saccharine, strong. And bright, and beautiful. All things.

Things that irritate me.

1. Not being on time because other people are doing trivial things, like fussing over their appearance.

2. Parents leaving shoes on my bed, and general crap. Why shoes? There's nothing more disrespectful than shoes on the bed.

3. The way I turn my music down for others but they wouldn't do similar for me.

4. Not being as cool as other people.

5. Not being as responded to... but then, I should respond more to others, and it would happen. As with KB, people do not respond because she is unresponsive.

6. Still living here, when I am old enough to move out.

7. Being a general loser around people that impress me. Why can't I be at my worst around people I don't want to impress? Why do I always dissolve when there are brilliant people?

Never mind, bile's out.

So here are the good things.

1. I managed to organise invigilation, with no pre-warnings or anything. Not as well as AG would have, but I managed to sort people out and keep them calm.

2. HM had a good day, without anyone there. I was happy about this- and she was, showing the world and his wife her report. I must get her a present for Monday.

3. At least I went, and people know deep down I'm not a loser- some do.

4. I saw Re after, and she's good. I offloaded on her a bit, but at least I can succeed at one mode of social interaction.

5. I liked making paper chains with one of my badasses.

6. A present came in the post, showing people do care. Unexpected. And emails as well, people do care about me. I needed them tonight as well, just as I'd hit a downer.

Why does the power of speech elude me?

And I just sit like a cabbage, like KB. A social event is the hardest thing to negotiate for me- a social event with no one else around, just acquaintances that like to play silly games with balloons. So I seem po-faced for not joining in... but it's not that, it's that I'm shy, not shocked. I wasn't on form at all- I was distant and glazed, and a bit thick.

"the department has a high regard of you". MH speaks highly of me, apparently. A surprise. I think she likes that I try hard; it's not that I get anywhere, but she appreciates the effort. Ugh.

I can't be myself when I'm around someone I want most to be the real me around. Ugh. Why on earth can't I just be normal, instead of stuttering or halting or gazing off spaced into the mid distance? Especially for DB, who doesn't like middle class people at best. So why can't I win people over instead of making them think I'm some stupid little girl. A twelve year old boy does better than I do. I am just not socially adept.

What do I fear most?

I do not fear people thinking that I am weird. I take it for granted that they will assume this.

I fear people speaking about me as MC does of KB- though she did take cigarette breaks with me. "Of course she looks fucking familiar- you work with her!" On KB's attempt at conversation initialisation. The thing is that though I pretend to be adept, secretly, I can see where KB's weaknesses lie (and maybe this is why I detest her- I can see these things in myself). A tendency to remain silent when under pressure, or daze off because you're omitting yourself from a situation that could go wrong when you're under pressure. A worry about saying the wrong thing, so keeping schtum. An idea that smiling along doesn't make you look inane, but fun. Smiling is alright- but too much and you start to look like you've had a lobotomy. I am worried that:

1. People will think that I am inane.
2. Or self centred.
3. Or have no idea about the world.
4. Or will cotton on that I am obsessive about people. A lot.

Or just boring, people might think I'm boring.

Especially round DB. I feel the need to prove myself, prove that I am good enough, because I am aware that I'm not- that I don't measure up. And it had been such a god day.

Ah well, fixate on something else (ugh, and the longest conversation was about what I'd eaten- will she think I'm on a diet, running between lessons and stupid things like that? That's another awful, trivial thing that I don't want anyone to be believing about me).

Well. I don't mind doing this secretly- jotting down eating and things- but I do mind doing it in an open way. I don't want to be a bore.

carrot-30
2 cakes-250
a jacket potato with beans and cheese-400
680
dinner- turkey, a potato, yorkshire puddings, vegetables-500

1180. And a shed load of alcohol. Damn.

Where do you go on Wednesdays?

I wait for you to stomp into the morning meetings cuspidate, and forget that you go somewhere else. Where?

I observe you, and you must observe me. What are you looking at? A girl, or a woman, looking at her diary, glazing over dates. Someone with a tendency to look vaguely embarrassed easily; with young people, when they pose awkward questions, with people she admires, when people suggest she is good at things when she is not. We were at a meeting- and it was suggested that each group selected a beautiful assistant. MH joked that it should be me, but it's not- I don't want to be thought of like that, I want to be known for other things. I dipped my head- because the rest of it is that I'm not, objectively, and I don't care. She was making a statement that she's older, and she didn't have to. Anyway. I look embarrassed in meetings, hopping from foot to foot, jigging around to some imaginary music- or I'll run to photocopy things, which others don't. My sense of urgency is off. You probably think I am bright (intellectually) but less than I think I am, and pale. It's obvious I'm pale.

You're pale too, so this is alright. You've got dark circles under your eyes, sometimes, and your skin's got a cloudlike quality. You're frequently drinking from a cup- something someone's bought you as a present, one of those pieces that state you are mad or something along those lines. It doesn't suit you being sensible in the mornings. You bob in, sit down. It's very quiet in our morning meetings. I try to make a note to look at your eyes, but more frequently I observe your footwear. It's usually shiny- last year it was trainers, so I am beginning to wonder what has changed. The sort of shoes I coveted as a child (and still do, sometimes)- narrow patent leather confections that you trot about happily in, flat pumps beaded with a profusion of flowers on the toe, boots with steep heels constructed from patent and suede, blue and grey and black. I watch you talk. I am almost frightened to speak to you in front of people, because you have a habit of staring people down- useful in our line of work, but terrifying on anything other than a one-to-one basis. I also worry that you think I am callow. I said something about being turned down for lots of jobs- and you responded something that I didn't quite hear. Other people laughed. Later, you said, "some of these won't even get that far". Are you laughing at me for being bourgeois and wearing silly hats and expecting too much? I can't figure it out. It would devastate me. And this is key; you devastate, and remain undevastated. I'm blitzed. Smouldering cheeks and gaunt blackened precipices in my eyes, crepuscular moonlit mouth. By lots of people, but most easily by you; though you never have. To my knowledge. I'm so dense that a lot of it passes me by.

Good day, bad day. That's how it goes.

Today wasn't awful. I'm still not like JM or KB- but neither am I like MH, or DB, or AG or CDB. Urgh. And I want to be. I'm not like KB, I don't want to 'be them'- she said this to me, which shows how much she knows.

It's meant to be a syndrome, in psychology- when you think, "I am rubbish- so how can people like me? The people that like me must also be rubbish".

I don't think I am utter crap, but I know I'm not streaks of brilliance either. So this is why, when KB said, "I wish I was like you", that I knew she'd been going about with her eyes closed. Or blinded to the brilliance of others. Because it should have been DB that she said that about, or AG, or anyone listed above.

Things I will do better:

1. Don't worry about MH. She isn't DB- she's not perfect. She isn't there to judge you. She's there to help you and you're there to help her. Just pretend she isn't there. It's no use being so impressed by someone that you can't do your job properly.

2. Take people out earlier, if possible.

3. Chit chat more. It's OK by MH.

4. Be harsher when telling people off.

5. Make more jokes.

And this is it.

Tomorrow, it's DB's lesson. I am glad- it will be respite, and sends me off to do other things better.

Good things about today:

1. Lunchtime.

2. Chatting to MH, who is lovely. I do like her. Sensible and kind, and ambitious when she needs to be, not when it's unnecessary like TF is- he's a wanker.

3. I have been wearing the same pair of earrings for a few days. Usually my ears go septic, so I am impressed with these ones.

Other people are so much better at this than I am. This job, this world. I am also fed up because of the administration I'm going to have to do... it won't be that hard, but I know I'll get it mixed up. I always do with administrative things; I can't just think of them as a problem to be solved, I think of them as a set of hoops to jump through. Which is silly. I like maths, I like English- but I don't like this. At all. And it's basically a basic combination of both.

Sharp

Like a good pair of scissors.
Flash and snip, and get the job done with economy
And beauty. There's a beauty too, in your pointed nose
And pixie face (that must have been, when you were a child).
You spear incisive when others deride or deceive
I believe you omnipotent. Then there's your new wardrobe-
Superficial, but I noticed
You look sharp. As in Al Capone. In Baker boy hats and long tweed coats.
Though you were equally honed in your grey fleece, which I adore
And you've not given it up just yet.
Cuspate, cuspidate, apical. You seem to know everything and
Lead people through the toughest questions
with the alacrity of a blade edge gleaming against silk.
Salient and keen.

I'm trying to find the words to describe this girl, without being disrespectful...

Eating today:

smoothie-150
2 chocolate hobnobs-180
spaghetti-350

chicken salad-350
mince pie and cream-450
raisins-100

biscuit-80
4 roses chocolates-200


1860. I will eat less tomorrow.

I made DB laugh today, which made me inordinately happy, and she asks me about la petite Francaise, which makes me feel needed. I told her about the banning of a relative from weightwatchers and it made her laugh, like a bark emitting. She'd be a terrier, if she was a dog. I hope that she doesn't think I'm another Wet Lettuce, sitting at the back with KB, who definitely is. I couldn't stand it if I was, if she thought I was. I hope I'm a little bit more interesting. The problem is that we both share this vaguely insipid quality, KB and I, and I don't know how to be differently, especially as one of the things I admire most about DB is her ability to control and be exciting; and I am rarely either around her. I can't pull it out of the bag. She'd say that there's no such word as can't.

La petite Francaise has begun to make friends, tentatively- she sees people and they smile to her and still try hard to communicate in French. She's got something special about her, a dreamy quality, and she's a pretty little thing, which never hurts social esteem. The fact that she looks like a doll has done wonders for her social life. I'm glad that they treat her well- she'll make friends, I can see it happening already, even though she's not got the language yet.

KB (wet lettuce) sits at the back and flaps about when the class is working. She doesn't really DO. She slithers round smiling but I've never seen her actually talk to anyone. Like me, she's backing laughter for DB. She perches. I swing about unnecessarily, mostly, if I'm not actually with someone. And she's cultivated some sort of friendship with TF- I can't fathom why, possibly because he's got power but maybe also because he adores conversing and she doesn't. He will talk for hours and do nothing else, chat about how brilliant he is in an uncomprehendable manner. I'd far rather have one with DB or MH, bright, modest people who are excellent at what they do- this would get her far further if she wants to go into this line of work than a blustering pseudo-intellectual fool that covers his own deficits with blathering- but there you go.

And she said, she said...

She said she was impressed with me and laughed at me and spoke to me like she didn't hate me (which is a constant fear because of the high esteeming of her personage). She said she was impressed with my French. She said she wouldn't have been able to get that work out of la petite Francaise, and we laughed about things like the older ones kicking off. Such little things, and yet they make me happy. Because I fear so much... I fear being the person that's stressed out or that has no control (or both). I said, "I like translating for you because I just pretend to be you for a bit". She laughed.

I'd like to say, to her, DB, "I adore you". But I can't because of a variety of factors. She wouldn't be interested, I see her every day, she's given no indication of being inclined towards me. I'd like to be friends with her, with this person that I think so highly of. I think she finds me interesting, as one finds exhibits in museums interesting, looking at them and considering what they mean (because it's rarely what I put across with my flailing hands and linguistic stutters), and I think she thinks that I am kind in my bumbling way. A piece of background furniture, some sort of intriguing egg slicer that you don't use much because it's fairly useless and extraneous generally, and only suited to one task.

I like the game of comparing people to household objects. She'd be something amazing. A non stick frying pan with a tefal spot, or a masher, or one of those whisks that whisks everything with loads of different attachments that slots neatly into your gadgetry but makes a big impact nontheless. Effective, interesting, brilliant. She makes me laugh all the time, whether I'm observing at the back or chatting. She makes everyone laugh. And I think she's beautiful. Today she came with a morning face, no makeup, in her grey fleece, perfectly honest with her metallic eyes that stop me dead, because she's seeing me precise as I am.

Little Bird hasn't written to me at all. Not that I expected her to reciprocate, but I would have liked her to stay in contact. Or to feel the same as it did, but it obviously can't for her.