It hit me this morning. I didn't know an English person until I moved over here.
Is that weird?
Not that this is remotely on the same subject, but today on Oxford St, there was a guy trying to convert people to becoming atheist. As I laughed in agreement, a guy came up and said, seeing as though you find this funny, how about becoming a Muslim? Errr, I didn't know the two came hand in hand, but apparently it's the 2nd most popular religion. As I was walking back to the tube, I saw the atheist and Muslim guy walking together. It was some kind of religious tag team. I felt confused yet applauded their idea in my head.
After that, I zipped up my chin because it was so cold. It hurt and now I have a zip mark.
In the final bit of excitement for today, I saw a girl on the tube who looked like a tiger! A tiger! She had a constellation of dark freckles across her face and the bluest eyes imaginable. Luckily I had my glasses on so I could stare at her in focus.
I think that's it.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Ode to grey
I'd like to dedicate a post to a major colour in my life;
Grey.
Everyday, I am greeted with your presence. In fact, living in this country, there isn't a day goes by when I don't see some shade of you. And here I am, worried about my impending holiday to Australia. Worried, of all things about the weather. I keep forgetting I'm about to come back to a country that doesn't go, at maximum, a week without blue sky. Here, we could go two weeks, perhaps even three, without looking up and seeing an hint of pale blue relief to the otherwise gloominess up above.
And it's starting to kill me slowly.
Kind of like when someone is tapping their pen in a two hour meeting. Sure, you can deal with it for about 15 minutes, busying yourself with eyeing the biscuits (pre credit crunch) or thinking about lunch. But then, it becomes all you can think about, making you want to claw your way across the table, rip it out of their hand and starting tapping them with it in the middle of their forehead. I would just like to point out that in 2009, I would have said 'rip it out of their hand and use it to stab them in the eye' but I am trying to be less violent in my work fantasies in 2010.
So back to the weather. I remember Yoel once said (and excuse me Yoel for paraphrasing) some of the greatest bands, e.g Radiohead, could only come from the UK because of the weather. Yoel, you were so right. I'd like to take a moment to address Radiohead and say, I finally understand and you're forgiven. You (the band) have no other choice for producing such wrist slitting music because it's FUCKING DEPRESSING seeing nothing but grey for an extended period of time.
Argh, grey, get out of my life.
I know, I know. I have winter blues. But it's making me want to crawl out of my skin. I feel impatient. It's turning all that I love about this place into resentment for the constant darkness and gloom. It's probably because I know I have sun coming.
6 weeks.
6 weeks.
It can't come soon enough.
Grey.
Everyday, I am greeted with your presence. In fact, living in this country, there isn't a day goes by when I don't see some shade of you. And here I am, worried about my impending holiday to Australia. Worried, of all things about the weather. I keep forgetting I'm about to come back to a country that doesn't go, at maximum, a week without blue sky. Here, we could go two weeks, perhaps even three, without looking up and seeing an hint of pale blue relief to the otherwise gloominess up above.
And it's starting to kill me slowly.
Kind of like when someone is tapping their pen in a two hour meeting. Sure, you can deal with it for about 15 minutes, busying yourself with eyeing the biscuits (pre credit crunch) or thinking about lunch. But then, it becomes all you can think about, making you want to claw your way across the table, rip it out of their hand and starting tapping them with it in the middle of their forehead. I would just like to point out that in 2009, I would have said 'rip it out of their hand and use it to stab them in the eye' but I am trying to be less violent in my work fantasies in 2010.
So back to the weather. I remember Yoel once said (and excuse me Yoel for paraphrasing) some of the greatest bands, e.g Radiohead, could only come from the UK because of the weather. Yoel, you were so right. I'd like to take a moment to address Radiohead and say, I finally understand and you're forgiven. You (the band) have no other choice for producing such wrist slitting music because it's FUCKING DEPRESSING seeing nothing but grey for an extended period of time.
Argh, grey, get out of my life.
I know, I know. I have winter blues. But it's making me want to crawl out of my skin. I feel impatient. It's turning all that I love about this place into resentment for the constant darkness and gloom. It's probably because I know I have sun coming.
6 weeks.
6 weeks.
It can't come soon enough.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
When you want cake, but you can't work out what kind of cake you want
So I'm in a cake shop, let's for arguments sake call it 'Life'. I'm looking around. There are many delights before my eyes. Pain au chocolat. Oui. Scones with clotted cream and homemade strawberry jam. Two please. Pastries. Cheesecake. Banana bread. Raspberry and chocolate muffins. Bigger than your head jam biscuits. It's amazing. And then the worst thing hits. I can't decide what I want. I look around for ages. I annoy the shopkeeper (me) and then leave the store empty handed, hungry and perhaps a little over stimulated by the whole experience.
My mum worked for 27 years in the same job, at the same school. She didn't complain and as far as I know, she was happy and didn't want anything else because she always made the best of what she had. And then there's dad. He's done the same thing for the best part of 40 years, give or take some entrepreneurial moments that none of us can quite work out. But their generation committed. They chose that one thing and made it work. And then came us. We flit from one thing to another, believing, from fuck knows where, that we're entitled. Entitled to everything. And that's why I think so many of us are lost. We've grown up believing that the world is ours. And sure, it is, but when you've got the notion of choice, it's really hard to settle on one thing.
When I started at my first job, I was the office co-ordinator. Which is just a bullshit way to say receptionist. I hated it. I lasted 6 weeks because a. I dislike answering phones and b. I hated being perceived as being at 'the bottom'. So I quit that job and went to another, one I thought was more worthy of a university graduate. I believed after 3 years of a joke of a degree, I was entitled to more than being a lacky. Yes, you have to start somewhere, but exactly where was questionable to the 21 year old me.
So now, again, 7 years later, I, like many of my friends, are thinking we're entitled to more. But it's in a less selfish way than when we started out. We know there's something better out there for us but we don't know what. We don't want to start over, but we want more. We've spent longer than our parents ever got to, running around life, blindfolded, trying to work out who we are and what we want. And in many ways, that's a good thing. However, when you begin to work yourself out, and your oyster of a world begins to get smaller, you really want to make sure you're filling it with the right things. And that's hard.
My mum worked for 27 years in the same job, at the same school. She didn't complain and as far as I know, she was happy and didn't want anything else because she always made the best of what she had. And then there's dad. He's done the same thing for the best part of 40 years, give or take some entrepreneurial moments that none of us can quite work out. But their generation committed. They chose that one thing and made it work. And then came us. We flit from one thing to another, believing, from fuck knows where, that we're entitled. Entitled to everything. And that's why I think so many of us are lost. We've grown up believing that the world is ours. And sure, it is, but when you've got the notion of choice, it's really hard to settle on one thing.
When I started at my first job, I was the office co-ordinator. Which is just a bullshit way to say receptionist. I hated it. I lasted 6 weeks because a. I dislike answering phones and b. I hated being perceived as being at 'the bottom'. So I quit that job and went to another, one I thought was more worthy of a university graduate. I believed after 3 years of a joke of a degree, I was entitled to more than being a lacky. Yes, you have to start somewhere, but exactly where was questionable to the 21 year old me.
So now, again, 7 years later, I, like many of my friends, are thinking we're entitled to more. But it's in a less selfish way than when we started out. We know there's something better out there for us but we don't know what. We don't want to start over, but we want more. We've spent longer than our parents ever got to, running around life, blindfolded, trying to work out who we are and what we want. And in many ways, that's a good thing. However, when you begin to work yourself out, and your oyster of a world begins to get smaller, you really want to make sure you're filling it with the right things. And that's hard.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Snot and social fishing
You know when you get sick and you can't remember what it was like to be well? You wish for the day you can breathe out of your nose. You swear you will never take a clear nose for granted. You wake up with a film of saliva around your teeth and if you're really lucky, your lip stuck to your top tooth. You sweat out of one armpit, you leak out of your left eye and make a mountain of tissues that makes even your loved one feel repulsed. You'd even prefer to go to [insert shithouse job] work than feel like this. And then, as life goes, you get better, the snot lessens, you go back to solid food, can get to sleep without waiting for that pop of air that lets you breathe for the night and you forget your promises.
But lets all take a moment to appreciate our good health.
Done? Ok, let's continue.
I was at a house party last night. I've decided I quite enjoy saying weird things and gauging people's reactions. It's like social fishing with a quicker return. It's not really intentional, as I can't quite manage my filter at the best of times, but it's nice to establish what level you're at with people immediately. So last night, I was talking this dude who smelt a bit like a very mature farmhouse cheddar. He had a mouthful of teeth and a full head of peppered hair. I think his name was Lou but I always forget to listen to people's names. Like most gents with peppered hair, he had very dark eyebrows and eyes. Think Steve Martin. At approximately the three minute mark of the conversation, I told him that I had a dream where I pissed all over my face. To me, saying this is normal. To others, it's weird and unsettling. I get their point, it's not everyone's cup of tea, but if I had a choice between talking about the weather or piss, I'd choose piss any day. In the end, it was a successful dip in the water, he enjoyed it, we all laughed and there was a bit of fun banter to follow.
And then he left the party pretty much straight away...
But lets all take a moment to appreciate our good health.
Done? Ok, let's continue.
I was at a house party last night. I've decided I quite enjoy saying weird things and gauging people's reactions. It's like social fishing with a quicker return. It's not really intentional, as I can't quite manage my filter at the best of times, but it's nice to establish what level you're at with people immediately. So last night, I was talking this dude who smelt a bit like a very mature farmhouse cheddar. He had a mouthful of teeth and a full head of peppered hair. I think his name was Lou but I always forget to listen to people's names. Like most gents with peppered hair, he had very dark eyebrows and eyes. Think Steve Martin. At approximately the three minute mark of the conversation, I told him that I had a dream where I pissed all over my face. To me, saying this is normal. To others, it's weird and unsettling. I get their point, it's not everyone's cup of tea, but if I had a choice between talking about the weather or piss, I'd choose piss any day. In the end, it was a successful dip in the water, he enjoyed it, we all laughed and there was a bit of fun banter to follow.
And then he left the party pretty much straight away...
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