Manuka, Honey.

I think I'm going to feel it, hard, when I'm not working fewer days in the week than staying home. It's taken me four days to forget how to do my job and reaffirm how much I don't want to be there. To the point that I wonder why these people keep coming up to my little glass screen and asking me for things. This morning was haaaaaaa-a-a-ard, in a bewildering sort of way. I was slow, yes. Today, I was the definition of the bare minimum. And I'll only get through tomorrow knowing that I'll be off again for five days afterwards... the strange thing is, that when we were back up north I couldn't be happy about it. I didn't want to be back at work, but when you only have to choose your outfit two days a week and it's already been determined what you'll do for five, suddenly having lots of time to fill becomes... a bit frightening, really. It reminded me of being a student, with the fake freedom of all that time, but the reality of the work hanging over your head like a black leather bound cloud. Totally kills off any inspiration to do anything worthwhile. Hence three years wasted on drivel I wouldn't show to my rabbit. (He'd probably eat it out of pity, so I might relent and allow him access.) But at least with days of unadulterated time on your hands and NO work to do, there's no pressure... but then without the pressure, there's no frantic scribbling at half past midnight. And without the scribbling, there is no meaning... I used to wonder why I bothered writing. I didn't really believe it kept me sane. It doesn't. But it gives you a sense of getting closer to the gem in the middle of a dense block. A little cloud sweeping for your brain. And the harder it is to start with, the more important it is. Which is why, although I'm aware that I'm creating a fairly meagre post right this minute, I'm keeping on with it. (Just thought I'd let you know, there is something to it, even if it is just stopping me from talking to myself and grinding my teeth all the way home.) It might even help me make sense of the limbo between the two major days in December. That was how the whole writing lark started, after all, with the gift of a notebook and some serious time stretches... it would be appropriate.

Tomorrow will be a wasted day, but there will be things in it worth getting up for. And in a few days, who knows... I might hear from someone about a job, and I might have a little more time to make myself write in the afternoons. But hush, someone might think I'm being presumptious. Ah, fuck it. What can we be, if not quietly optimistic? 

Snappytimes

Better get one in before 2009, no...? 

I've joined Twitter (faintly disturbed at how much of my movement may be accessible on the internet through my own doing) and I'm not sure what it's all about really. I know two people on there, one of which hasn't posted since about the time of the election (Kate) - who, as always, I bumped into last night. It's impossible, now, I've determined, not to see Kate at Christmas. We weren't close at college and we never speak at any other time of year (last time I saw her was in the train station in Newcastle, on her way to London, and a new job with the Beeb, which I think was about a year ago too) but every Christmas our paths collide. Ordinarily it's at a Simon Whelan Christmas Party, which I suppose isn't too strange, since we're both always invited. I'm the other half of one of Simon's best boy friends and have gradually been accepted (once it was determined that I'm not a lesbian, and not an evil either, and have managed to get that thing with my temper under control), and Kate's a musical delight, and a bit of a treat generally. We all went to college together; Kate and Si were at school too, I think. This time, it was at a Billy The Kid gig (Richard's brother plays guitar and sings with the band) and Simon was nowhere in sight. Probably in bed after a late cold day into evening's average climbing (I'm allowed to say that; I did NO climbing). We chatted for a good while, which surprised me. I like Kate but never thought we'd have masses to talk about. Read: I work in a bank, not even a proper bank, minimum wage, dull fare, and generally get a bit of a mind blank when people ask me what I've been up to; also am superstitious about talking through ambitions in case I change my mind and someone asks me how tree surgery worked out... 

And the other was Dan. Dan's on bloody everything. But apparently he has to conserve power this Christmas due to a gas leak near his home. So I'm guessing, he'll not be online too much. (I was certain gas and electricity weren't the same thing. Times are changing so fast. . . .)

Rich got 'us' a camera for Christmas. I fell for the whole "My mum forgot to wrap something before they went away, stay out of the living room a while will you?" line. True to the laws of nature, the first couple of pictures on there were the best, and theres a lot of fannying about in the other 500-odd pictures from the last three days that I'm going to have to be brutal with some time soon. Must get to grips with photoshop too, since I've been told I can 'create an action' to resize them all for uploading. 

I'm still touched by how sweet Richard's brother can be sometimes, as he was last night, very simple gesture that wouldn't be noticed by anyone I don't think, and I proably can't describe without accusations of being a romanticist/psychologist/loser. Mostly he's tired or a bit stressed or has a cold or is running about bluebumflystyle due to impending gig. Makes me wish I knew he and Rich when they were kids together. He's the younger of the two (27?) but is big child with two small childs and wife (who was drunk last night, but very sweet.... her friends all run away when they see me coming, can't imagine why) and loves his big brother very much. But has to hide it whenever he can for unfathomable reasons. I do like those two. And I'm using their children as a barometer. Soon as I can comfortably sit in the house with the two little ones without feeling like I've walked into some parallel land where my powers of calm are tested in unexpected multidirectional ways, I'll know I'm ready to babysit. Probably. 

Happy winter weekend. I might see whether grumblegums wants to come and play on the beach yet... :D