The lack of posts - and general quality in said posts - recently is down to a number of factors. Firstly, I'm a lazy bugger. Secondly, I (I say "I" but really I mean "my brother" cos he knows about this sort of stuff and I don't) only just got my home PC working again and at work I am quite distracted by sending pointless emails to people, impersonating the Queen or trying to convince people I've been offered the position of chairman, or just sending filth to #1, or coming up with 'amusing' things to do, or simply falling over a lot because there are too many chairs and fans and computer bits and random boxes behind my desk. Thirdly, now that I am a nice normal - and maybe even a bit happy? - girl, there's not a lot to write about. Emo drama is so much more interesting, is it not? Isn't that what makes one an LSE celebrity? Frankly, I don't want to be a "celebrity", especially if the calibre of the individuals judging is that low. Anyway. Fourthly, and this is only an excuse for the last few days, I have flu. I knew I would get it and I have been taking 1500mg Vitamin C every morning to try and NOT get it, but did it work? Did it bollocks. Last week, J was ill... he gave it to L... who gave it O... who gave it to me. By about 3pm on Friday, people were coming up to me at work and saying "fucking hell, you look like shit!", which is always guaranteed to make you feel a hell of a lot better about yourself. I cancelled all the arrangements I'd made for the evening and went home, via the shops, where I stocked up on lemsip, paracetamol, those cold-and-flu tablets, bread and soya milk. Then went home, got into bed, and fell into a sweaty, feverish sleep for damn near twenty hours. During which time I hallucinated that my ex (by this, I mean the big bad ex) was in the room, and lost about two pints of fluid in sweat. I am nice when I am ill. At some point #1 came into my room but I was thrashing about and couldn't speak and she thought it best to leave me alone.
I woke up on Saturday very briefly and ate a piece of bread. #5 laughed in my face and I tried to storm off but my legs were a bit wobbly so I just hobbled to the kitchen and made more lemsip. Then I went back to bed. We were all meant to be going out to #2's birthday party thing, so when I woke up again at about 6.30, I had a shower and put some clothes on, and stuffed myself full of paracetamol, and went into town with #1 and #5, who I was trying not to want to kill. We went to a bar where two drinks cost sixteen quid. I had a diet coke and a cigarette. An alcoholic nearly kicked over a chair. I smiled politely, left, bought a Caramel Aero and went home. Got into bed and sweated.
Today has been bizarre. I felt a little better so I messed about on my computer, thinking of songs to download. Amongst other things, I downloaded some Flaming Lips, then was listening to the Yeah Yeah Yeah Song while staring out of the window. And then I started crying. I've been really good recently, I haven't been thinking about N. But I used to listen to that song at his house in his room, and it was so sunny and the sky was so blue, and everything was damn peachy. Then today, same song, same sky... but not so peachy. And yeah, I'm okay. But I do miss N, and I do wonder what he's up to and whether I ever even cross his mind. Okay, and yeah, I did look at the photos on facebook. I'm not so unhappy as I was, I really am not. Just little things remind me of him, and then I want to slap myself round the head for even being that person. So much of my time, so much of my life in fact, is spent thinking "that wasn't me, right? I'm not that same person, am I?" as the me of today can't identify with the me of last week, let alone the me of last month or last year or heaven forbid any further in the past. Oh whinge whinge whinge. I know he's not thinking about me. Part of me wants to write him a letter to tell him... I don't know, to make it so we could be friends. But it's not that simple, is it, you can't just magic things into existence. Much as I'd like things my way, or even a straightforward way, things have this amazing habit of fucking up in your face.
Anyway, I watched the Monza GP and in between being shocked at how poorly broadcast the whole thing was and lamenting a rather lacklustre performance by Kimi, I pondered Michael Schumacher's retirement. I thought I'd be really happy about it, but as the whole debacle unfolded I started to feel really sad. I thought maybe it was the lemsip, or the fact that I was feeling generally miserable in a kind of ill way, but all these images flashed through my head... Michael Schumacher - much as I dislike him for his dodgy tactics (see: Hill; Villeneuve; Monaco), his utter German-ness in interviews, the ethos of his team, as well as what can only rationally be called an irrational dislike to him and Ferrari - he has, to me, been around forever. The first GP I remember watching (which must have been the early nineties sometime as I definitely remember when Senna was alive) had him in. Another time, Schumacher was racing Hill, and that evening I wrote in my diary "Hill won!!!" I never liked Schumacher. Part of me knows that losing him in the sport heralds the end of an era. I used to watch F1 with my ex. He loved Damon Hill and Jean Alesi. Like me, he hated Schumacher. Even though we don't speak anymore, and I don't even know where he is in the world, our dislike of Schumacher would have given us something to talk about, on that mythical occasion when we'd meet in the street. It's so stupid I know, and maybe I'm just being silly because I'm ill and feverish, but then I started crying, and I feel cheated - yes, one last cheat from the master of deception, Michael Schumacher. But good luck to him, with his stolen wife and his future career, and let's get on with the 2007 Championship.
This evening #1's gentleman friend came round and I am trying not to colour my advice with the cynicism I feel inside, but it's hard. You can't say to people "I love you, will you be my girlfriend?" cos these things don't work like that. But everyone conveniently forgets, because surely it's not like with them, cos with them it's special, and this time it's perfect and everyone will live happily ever after.
Now I have had an argument on the phone and I have washed my hands a hundred times but they don't feel clean, and I really don't think I can go to work tomorrow. I am going to be sick and then lie down. Tomorrow is 11th September so you can expect some more craziness from me but not for any world trade centre reasons. Good night.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment