If you were at The Krazyhouse, Liverpool on Saturday night, particularly if you were mixing it on K1, then you might remember me as the one looking like a banana plant gently wafting in the breeze in the middle of the floor. I am sorry for looking like an inanimate lump of plasticine.
I am a lover of music, but it doesn’t really inspire me to move parts of my body. I learned on Saturday night that that makes me strange. For the most part, the music that filled the room was of various metal-based genres, which at the very least warrants some head-banging. Other genres of music require more gentile body movements (like line-dancing, for instance). I meet all types of music with the same whimsical nodding of the head, a gentle tapping of the foot, and occasionally staring at the ceiling to appreciate where I am and what I am listening to.
That does, however, mean it appears I am bored and dislike the music. That is not the case. But it does make me look a right wally. But I don’t care too much about looking a twit (just as well, really). The important thing was seeing my friends again, and I am hugely grateful for that short time.
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They say that with great power comes great responsibility. Having great power can be great fun if you abuse it. I know this because over the last few days, I was the fun. I hope this supreme force realises how desperately frustrating it has been then and since.
Furthermore it has left me feeling extremely powerless. I don’t have the power to have people eating out of the palm of my hand, and I don’t want that power either. I am rather submissive in that respect: I much rather be told what to do rather than do the telling. It does lead me to rely solely on myself to get tasks done, which is no bad thing: I don’t need to trust someone else to get a job done. But it’s a rather lonely way to lead a life.
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When you find yourself in a dark place, and you don’t know what to do, most people turn to their friends. Likewise, so did I. I found two friends that were likely to have differing opinions on the situation. That way, if they agreed, that would obviously be the best course of action. However, they disagreed and gave wildly conflicting pieces of advice. I know which is best and which I shall follow, but I can also see things from the other point of view.
Friends, eh?!
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I had my hair cut today. It wasn’t something I planned, so I am a little in shock now. This morning I had what appeared to be black hair: the stubborn locks that remained since dying it in December covering what lied beneath. It was also rather long, gathering at the base of my neck and swept across my eyes. Now, it is desperately pale blond, and rather short. I look rather anaemic now.
Beforehand I had been working on some freelance work. It isn’t all that easy. I had been hoping to get it done fairly quickly but the intricacies in the detail are quite amazing. I am, in fact, surprised by the additional research I’ve had to do to get the results that are required. That’ll teach me!
The final thing that affected me this week was being called a coward. It was meant in a light-hearted way and I don’t think there was too much meaning behind it, but it did get me thinking. It followed me saying how I now crave a simple and quiet life: to settle down and knuckle down. I don’t want to be under undue pressure and I don’t want to be in a job that no-one else gives two hoots about. I think I’m in the right, but does it make me a coward?
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I don’t get jealous with regard to many things, but what I do crave is affection amongst people that know me. I think it stems from having what feels like parts of my life where I was the last person on people’s minds and the contrast between then and the times when I was ‘flavour of the month’. I think right now I’m in the former category — I’m not in the forefront of people’s minds. I want to be cool again.
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I awoke yesterday to a nosebleed. Nosebleeds are not unusual for me, I get them very infrequently but often enough to realise that I should carry a handkerchief or tissue with me. I am unsure as to whether there is some residual cause of these nosebleeds — are they caused by some hidden complaint? They often occur at frustratingly inconvenient times: a school fête, a birthday party, in bed, …
Yesterday we took down the Christmas decorations. It wasn’t quite the last day of Christmas, but by now the Christmas cheer wears off. I haven’t done any work for university over this holiday, and now I face the stark realisation that I will have to do some. I have two exams for which I haven’t revised for, an assignment to do (and though I am not currently aware as to the deadline, I am fairly sure upon checking it will be for tomorrow) and I should have researched more for my project. My motivation waned over the holiday.
The problem is that I usually have something to look forward to, like visiting friends in Kent. But I don’t have that luxury at the moment. Instead I have an impending rigorously scrutinised application process to undergo in the coming months, with I concede an unlikely chance to be offered a job at the end. It’s not really something I look forward to, yet I have to be confident to stand any chance of getting it.
Lesson of the day
Have something to look forward to. If you don’t have anything to look forward to, make something to look forward to.
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Usually when I visit Kent, I describe each day, and what happened. But I don’t think I’m going to do that this time. No. In fact, I’m just going to cobble together the pieces that resound in my head as I type.
The most important task in coming down is meeting the people that made me who I am: those being my friends. I am glad to say I met a lot of those — some whom I was not expecting to see. Another important task is meeting members of my family, and I got to do that as well.
What I didn’t do so well was to be the perfect guest. I’m afraid I wasn’t — I became ill with some cold and managed to amass a collossal headache during the week and as such was probably a bit of a pest to my poor suffering hosts. Thankfully, Pete, Donna and Russell looked after me well.
That was the major disappointment: being ill. If I were better, I might have made better use of my time there, and been a bit more of a help and less of a hindrance.
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