Nice Day For A Sulk

Avoidance of necessary, overdue tasks.

Nausea at ex-partner's new romance.

Pep-talk from the rejected fuck-buddy.

The desire to cry. The new therapy i've learnt is to find the physical location of the feeling and breathe into it. The feeling is behind my eyes. They swell and make me think of reasons i want to cry. I'm listening to Belle & Sebastian.

My ex-partner goes into hospital for a serious operation tomorrow. I lent him my ipod. If he wasn't teetering on the edge of anxiety about operative complications, i would lay my pain on a platter for him. I would tell him i can't stomach his interest in a new woman (and she's hardly new, i believe they've been seeing each other nearly six months). I would cry and complain that he's fucked me over. Ripped me off. I would cry out for reassurance that i'm not some unlovable wench. I would pointlessly grasp for explanations and guarantees that he will remember only my good points. I would hopefully receive a comforting cuddle. It's now 3.55pm. I have a week's worth of work to pull off by tomorrow morning. I want to not let myself down. Why does this untamable sorrow get in the way?

I've deleted the BOI's number from my phone. Did it on Friday. My failed 8 year relationship has made me weaker not stronger. I'm stronger at dealing with drug addicted boyfriends and that's it. I really should be doing my work and yet i'm sitting here crying.

I selfishly want to make my ex-partner feel my pain and attempt to soothe it. I am a born depressive. So many roads point to suicide and giving up. Yet i go on. Plug away. Live to see another day and breathe another breath. I live for the ocean. I live for the garden i just walked past and audibly gasped "wow". I live for cocktails. I live for my parents. I live for hilarious emails from my sister. I live for rearranging objects in my house. I live for riding my bike, it makes me feel like a force of nature. I live for listening to Belle & Sebastian. I live for not enough meaningful reasons. I live to prove i can live. In this moment i appreciate a warm house, generous friends. The land at the top of my head needs to change. Rotate to the next land of productive and inspiring thought. Like the Folk of the Faraway Tree i need to race to the top of the tree to see the lands change... or rather jump off the sad-grieving-poo-land to avoid being stuck on it and whisked away from my treehouse for who knows how long. Alright. I've stopped crying and am now stepping onto the land of efficiency and cheerfulness.

Another Post

Existential evening - will someone just fucking pash me and put me out of my misery (temporarily!?). I'm questioning everything and disgusted with my status quo. DIsgusted could be a bit strong a word. Maybe uneasy. Once again i'm cascading down a financial fear fall, but all that really highlights is my lack of accomplishment in all things vocational and my lack of readiness for all things romantic.

I'll abort this post and return when my spirits have lifted. I am happy when walking on the beach.

Subscription Sensation!

Ms OK is testing a new subscription service. Lets hope it doesn't cause mayhem.

A Snotty Nose & a Sense of Underachievement

I'm overwhelmed again. The never ending list gets longer... like a gardener's work that is never done, but far less of a pleasant sensation than a gardener may have. I want 6 months off life to get on top of things or i at least want the overdrive to stay up late and get it all done. I continually add to my lists of things to do. One step forward, two steps back. I want some feeling of major accomplishment that is deserving of an indulgent holiday. Maybe i just want the holiday without a long list to return to.

I wonder if this blog will get physically removed from blogspot for proliferation of boring information? Sorry suckers, I'm hooked now and need this outlet. It's different to my diary which reads: okay day, went to soccer training without mojo, left early. house needs cleaning. get up early tomorrow. i won't stay in bed so long during summer. bad allergies or a cold. don't know.

Anyways, the good news is my brain hasn't dived as low as last week and i've just bought (from itunes - how modern!) some of the music by Vladimir Cosma from the French film 'My Father's Glory' and 'My Mother's Castle'. Films i saw in the early to mid 90s with melodies in the soundtrack that still ring in my head.

On an entirely opposing matter, i put a euphemistic booty call out to the BOI (boy of interest) on Saturday night - partly disguised as an invitation to play cards in my cubbyhouse. He had to decline but said it sounded good and called me by the nickname he's given me. Is this progress? Who gives a flying fuck? He's on a time limit and his number will auto-delete from my phone if there's no reciprocal invitation within 28 days. I'm serious. That'll be something ticked off the list.