who's it gonna be...?

so today is when i get to see all my favourtite friends from home...i do wish paulo was coming, but the others are brill too. just wanted to come on here before they arrived, in a few hours' time, to register some apprehension and some excitement and some nervousness that i won't be myself around them. that's all, no ranting, just wanted to reigster those three things so that when i come back either late tonight, or tomorrow, i can laugh and praise the lord in heaven..gracias

The day after my birthday..

No more drama in my life….when’s that day, huh..? not sure whether its now that day that I’m chasing after, or god. Never really used to be a problem. But I guess that’s where having dreams gets you – into drama, trouble, shit, whatever….

I know that before I really started dreaming of my future, things weren’t quite right. But now that I’ve begun, I can’t seem to stop. Today, I didn’t want to be a journalist at all. Not even a little bit. I just wanted to be working at home, running our little book company. I dreamt of it last night – well I’m assuming I did, because it was my first thought this morning, and my heart was racing when I woke up. Gracious, how it sank when I sat up and looked at the day ahead of me, stretched out like an eight-hour yawn. Can you imagine what that looks like? Wait though – you have to imagine it coupled with the thought that its not just today, but everyday, or at least everyday until something else happens along.

But today I did begin to feel slightly more like I need to take my life by the scruff of its neck, and shake…or box its ears….or give it a kick up the ass….or scream at it, right in its face….i think, actually, no, I’m about a hundred percent sure of this one thing, so listen up…I know that til today I’ve been doing nothing more than standing, arms folded across chest, staring at my life, a sullen look on my face, waiting…..stroppy, spoiled, cross, selfishly waiting for it to get its fucking act together, stop moaning and do something.

so the first rule is..

Just found myself falling asleep during fight club
Damn this 9 to 5 gig, its left me too tired even for tyler.
For the parts of it that I was awake, though, I saw it totally differently from every other time. I wasn’t oohing and aahhing at the sparks of profundity like before. I guess I was trying to watch it without having heard preachers preach the messages within it, like they confirmed the correctness of their faith.
I mean, after all, the guy with the wisdom, and the mind deep as a well, and the most attractive walk in the world, is fictional. Not only is he a character in a film, but in the film he’s not even real. He is merely the product of years of another man’s insomnia. Nothing more. A figment. Not of someone’s active imagination, but of his subconscious’ desire to be like himself, but more. Like himself, but fitter, happier, more productive.
But I just didn’t find it as clever is I once did. The fact the you never know the dude’s name even annoyed me tonight. I felt robbed. Cheated. Like someone couldn’t be arsed.

I think I feel like that just now, because when my own creativity is limited, and lidded, I find other people’s creations frustrating. I want to adapt them, recreate them. Because with me its always the initial quiz of knowing what to create that scuppers me. Once I’ve got that decided, I’m good to go, but the conception stage is hardest.

I wonder if the use of human fat in the making of the soap was part of the story triggered in the writer’s mind by his having read generation x…?it just reminded me of the dogs in the book, and how they’d go the clinic and root out the bags of rancid ming and feast away.

Bothered.

Today I had a new thought, to do with the Big Plan. I’m going to think about it for another day or two. My new thought is that maybe I can miraculously have the cash I need by September to do the course I actually want to do, now that the door has been firmly shut on the option of doing the second-choice course that I had been planning for the last while to do. I know, I know, I’m ranting now. But imagine…..i say right god, today I apply for this thing. By the day it starts, three months from now, you either provide some fairly serious funds, or I take the hint for good.

Ooh, trof for breakfast tomorrow…some of my favourite people….and finally…Saturday…

.........

People in movies always seem to get to a point when they don’t like their life anymore. When they wake up one day, finding themselves at work for a couple of hours without having even switched on their brain, and find themselves in a job they hate. Its not so much that I hate my job, as I feel outdone by it. I feel like it has won me. Claimed me for its side. I never mean or wanted to be on the side of this job. It’s the typical office job, where people who like their job to a frightening degree squabble over their expenses and have to justify why they spent £30 on lunch - alone, on a trip to the next city east of here. And I do the photocopying that these people could so easily do. They are capable of using the machine. I’ve seen one or two of them do it, too embarrassed to ask me to copy one sheet for them when the machine is by their side once they’ve got to me.

I didn’t grow up with this in mind. I grew up knowing so much about what I did not want to do, I could have written (perhaps should have) a book, listing the laws by which I was and was not going to live. Today I could still write it…..i will not work for the government….i will not make phone calls on behalf of someone who can talk and has a phone…I will not spend my days waiting for Friday afternoon….i particularly will not spend my days waiting for the last Friday afternoon of every month…I will not laminate things that do not need laminating, just for something to do…..i will not ………..whatever.

Today I did not all, but most of the things listed above. Choose as you will which ones you believe to be, or want to be true. I have indeed committed every heinous crime that were so disgusting to my 17-year-old-self. The 17-year-old me would laugh to see what I wore today, how I was demure today. She would hate me.

But hey, you know, a girl’s gotta eat..! How would she propose I got by, for money, instead of sacrificing dream at the altar of HSBC?

I know what she’d say…..lady, sit yourself down. Get some boy to buy you a nice rum and coke, write some shit down, have a cigarette, and talk to god. Didn’t stevie himself preach it like a preacher…when you feel your life’s too hard – just go have a talk with god…….so I pretty much think that’s the plan. Til now I didn’t have a pl