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.
Friday, 11 December 2009
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.
"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.
Wednesday, 9 December 2009
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, 3 December 2009
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, 1 December 2009
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.
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.
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