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Elise

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Reminder [Dec. 31st, 2004|05:18 pm]
Not that I leave things to the last minute or anything, but just in case you're sitting at home not sure what to do with yourself tonight, don't forget that [info]libellum, [info]romauld and I will be throwing a party of great style and extravagance, to which you are all most welcome.

From about eight o'clock this evening until all collapse. Bringing a bottle would be most appreciated. Bringing yourselves much more so.
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Snapshot. [Dec. 29th, 2004|11:44 am]
When the exchange of gifts was over, my father drove my aunt and I up to Baitings Reservoir. We wandered across the long footbridge, chatting of things inconsequential, shivering at the thought of the cold, choppy water scant inches below our feet. When we reached the far side my aunt said she wanted to turn back, her aging bones not feeling up to walking the two miles or so it would take to go round. I was secretly quite glad – vanity had me wearing a wine-coloured velvet jacket, which despite being beautiful was not so warm as the thick wool overcoat I left back at the house.

There was already a light covering of snow on the hills on either side of us, but now it began to fall through the air, catching on the wind and circling around us, until I felt like a tiny plastic model in a snowstorm paperweight. The hills were majestic, and it seemed we were transported to a time when the space between them would be almost the whole world. In the distance we could see a few farmhouses, shuttered close against the cold, but that was all of civilisation, and now we had to face the bitter weather in this beautiful bleak wilderness.

We returned to the house quickly enough though, and sat warm in front of the crackling fire, ate meal after delicious meal, played chess, reminisced, and talked of future plans. There are only two things I miss about Yorkshire - the wild beauty of the hills, and the intense, yet comfortable love my family have for one another. I certainly didn't lack for either this Christmas.
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Lalala. Universe loves me. Film at 11. [Dec. 15th, 2004|12:01 pm]
I'll stop clogging up your friends pages soon. Honest :)

So the other day I was glancing through my amazon wishlist before I sent a link to my grandmother, to make sure there wasn't anything too scandalous on it, when I noticed to my surprise that there were things in the "Items sent" list. 'Ooh' I thought, 'how exciting. I shall look forward to them arriving... arriving... oh bugger." *clicks on delivery address* "Arriving at Alpha Road. Oops." A couple of phone calls to Sidney Sussex housekeeping (who were very lovely and only laughed at me a little bit), and I'm told that there's actually quite a bit of post, and I should go and pick it up now as the painter is there for the morning and can let me in.

Off I toddle, and there is indeed shiny amazonness, (which I shall be good and not open until Christmas, but *squee* Thankyee.) along with a few other bits and pieces. Now I'd been feeling a little bit disheartened in the looking for work malarky, because no-one takes on new staff just before Christmas, and nor do they seem to want to interview people to start in the new year. But there's a letter from UCLES, and although it's dated the 8th, I call back and ask what they want. Apparently they might have an ongoing contract for me starting on the 4th of January. It's only a possibility, and I'm waiting for them to get back to me, but unsurprisingly, people approaching me out of the blue to offer me work makes me feel a lot more confident about looking for it.
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appositeness [Dec. 15th, 2004|10:25 am]
I subscribe to the merriam-webster word of the day mailing list. Today's word is verbose, which I find oddly pleasing.
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Good news [Dec. 15th, 2004|09:53 am]
[I'm feeling |excited]

Ah, now that's better. I have some rather exciting news, and I wanted to wait until I was actually feeling cheerful and excited, rather than inexplicably uneasy, to share it with you all.

As I may have mentioned to some of you, I recently started having classes with Fr Andrew in preparation to be Confirmed. On Sunday he told me that the Bishop would be coming to LSM on the 30th January, and that I could be presented for Confirmation then. Fortunately he told me by means of a note, which meant that only strangers passing by were witness to me going rather non-verbal and making noises like a small mammal being tickled.

You could say I'm quite excited about this. *grins* I'm also quite nervous, but then, it might be worrying if I wasn't. This is, after all, one of the, if not the most important decision I'll ever make in my life. When I told my Mum she asked me if I was sure I was ready for it, and there is a sense in which I'm not, but in that sense I'm not sure I'll ever be ready - I can't really get my head around all that it entails, and don't believe I will outside of Heaven, but from the understanding I can glean with these mortal limitations, it is something I want more than I can say.

I'd like it a lot if those of you who would feel comfortable with it would be there. This is a very important step for me, and I'd like as many of my friends to share it with me as possible. There will be some sort of gathering afterwards, probably involving cake, of which more detail later.

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How terribly tedious. [Dec. 14th, 2004|02:43 pm]
Well this is quite unusual. Not that mood-swings are exactly uncommon in my register, but usually they either happen on a daily basis, and can therefore be put down to how well I slept, or something has happened which at least explains the qualitative change, even if quantatively it seems a little disproportionate.

But in the last, oh, hour or so, I have gone from feeling quite cheerful and positive to being plagued by a quiet unease, clawing with insidious fingertips. I try to make plans, and struggle against the conviction that I shouldn't bother because people probably don't actually want to see me. A thousand niggling anxieties which in truth are no more significant than they were this morning suddenly loom larger and more ominous. It distracts me, removes what scant desire there was to get any work done, and renders even the job-hunting I had planned as this afternoon's procrastination technique a bit of a lost cause. I shall be quite cross if this hasn't gone by this evening.
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Wishes. [Dec. 7th, 2004|10:43 am]
Okay, okay, it's a meme, but it's a meme with sort of actual content, so you'll have to let me off.

For those who haven't encountered it yet, the idea is this. You make a list of ten wishes you'd like this season, and post them in your journal. If you see wishes in other journals that you can and would like to grant then do so. If you've posted your list already and I haven't commented then could you point me at it, since I've possibly managed to miss it. If you haven't posted one then I think you should, at least if you want to. Yes.

My wishes )
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A new year approaches... [Dec. 5th, 2004|10:49 pm]
...and we hope that many of you will join us to see it in. The delightful [info]libellum and the charming [info]romauld will be joining me to host the festivities at my humble abode. More details will follow, but for now, keep your diaries free.
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Sexual orientation, gender and competition [Dec. 3rd, 2004|05:56 pm]
I've been thinking a bit about how my sexuality was formed, particularly in relation to gender.

Until I was in my early teens I pretty much assumed I was straight. I was aware that there were people who weren't, but it just seemed the default for me to assume that a desire for a relationship with a boy was a crush, and with a girl as wanting to be friends. In retrospect, there was nothing particularly sexual about any of those desires, but those involving other girls were equally romantic.

When I was fourteen or so we got hold of the internet, and in the wonderful world that is Usenet I encountered actual real bisexual people. This got me thinking along the lines of "Well, there's no logical reason to prefer one sex to the other, and if anything girls are more aesthetically pleasing on average, so I suppose I might as well be bisexual. Right? Yes. Good. I'll do that then."

And then? )
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A moment's relaxation. [Dec. 3rd, 2004|12:09 am]
Today has been pretty good really. The Inquiry is finally over, and although there's still a bit of tidying up to do, the pressure is no longer quite so high. This meant that from about 2.30 onwards work consisted of drinks and nibbles with the team, and being effusively thanked by management types for all the hard work. I even got given a bottle of Champagne, which I thought was rather nice of them.

This evening, after just a little over five years in Cambridge, I finally made it to Choral Evensong in King's Chapel, which was just beautiful. Must do that more often. The exposure to culture continued, as I met with [info]necro_angel to go and see The Winter's Tale, which was rather enjoyable. Our very own [info]sebastian1971, who plays Leontes, was awfully good, and I don't think I was the only one having to hold back the odd tear at the end. Final night is tomorrow by the way, so you might want to pop along if you're free in Cambridge - it's at the Michaelhouse Centre in Trinity Street, starting at 7.45pm.
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Whinging and more CVness. [Nov. 29th, 2004|08:11 pm]
I am feeling very stressed about money. The fact that my finances are in a mess is almost entirely the fault of my own inability to budget, but knowing this, and thus feeling guilty as well as stressed is not a great deal of help.

On the plus side, of the five jobs I've applied for on Saturday (all of which would involve at least a small pay-rise) I've already had three requests for more information, so it does look as though at least things are unlikely to be exacerbated by unemployment.

Many thanks for all the comments on my CV. Updated versions are now up in Word and HTML format, if anyone has any more suggestions.
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And again with that job hunting lark [Nov. 27th, 2004|03:13 pm]
As many of you have heard me excitedly proclaiming, the Guided Bus Public Inquiry is very nearly at an end. Whilst this is in many ways a very good thing, and may perhaps allow me to actually catch up on some sleep, it leaves me with some uncertainly about my future employment. There may be more work available on the team, but to be on the safe side and keep my options open and all that, I feel I should apply for some other jobs as well.

And so the dreaded CV-rehaul comes about. I've not done much to it - just added the recent jobs, but I think it could do with a bit more. In particular, I think that the bullet-point skills need updating, but can't seem to pick out the right points from the CCC jobs to put in. Any suggestions leap out at you from the text?

Also, I'm wondering if what I've got at the moment is too wordy, and whether the jobs themselves should be bullet-pointed. Comments, recommendations? Tips for fantastic jobs in your companies?

Update: It would probably help if I included a link to my CV, wouldn't it...
Word format
HTML format
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Snippets [Nov. 24th, 2004|01:30 pm]
"The mark of perfect Friendship is not that help will be given when the pinch comes (of course it will) but that, having been given, it makes no difference at all. It was a distraction, an anomaly. It was a horrible waste of the times, always too short, that we had together. Perhaps we only had a couple of hours in which to talk and, God bless us, twenty minutes of it had to be devoted to affairs!" The Four Loves, C.S.Lewis.

I like that quote a great deal in terms of what it says about friendships, but the last sentence of it also seems to say something about life in general. At the moment there seems to be an overwhelming amount of 'affairs' making life difficult for my nearest and dearest (and myself) - the usual things, money, jobs, housing, time. It almost makes me want to scream with frustration, because although taking care of all these things is necessary, they also feel terribly, well, trivial. All this time spent worrying about where to live and how to afford it and so on would be so much better spent with friends, with lovers, talking and interacting and relating and growing, but the damnedest thing is that we only have the freedom to do this if we sort out the affairs first. I think I'm really just stating the blindingly obvious, but still, I have an overwhelming feeling that this is a flaw in the universe and it makes me want to hit things with pillows.

*****

I had a lot of fun at the Calling last night, mostly spent chatting to a bunch of freshers who were very charming. I felt quite old though, which is ridiculous really, as there's only five year's difference. I noticed that I was flattered when someone assumed I was a fresher as well, and I remember thinking years ago that when I started being pleased instead of annoyed at being mistaken for younger than my years it would be a sign that I was ancient! Also, I have a crush on one of them, which may be a fun diversion, although I don't really expect anything beyond flirtation - I have no time. I am slightly disturbed, because he reminds me a little of Morgan (in looks and mannerisms rather than personality), which I would have expected to be off-putting, but it's probably a positive sign that I've put it behind me rather than an indication that I subconciously seek out people who remind me of an abusive ex.

*****

My sister is currently in America working as an au pair, for a family who get to be called eccentric by virtue of being very very rich. The other day the father left a tube of analgesic gel in the bathroom near the toothbrushes at which point of the boys managed to use it to brush his teeth. After he complained to my sister that the toothpaste tasted funny she realised what had happened and called some equivalent of NHS Direct. They told her that it was nothing to worry about, and she managed to calm the boy down until his parents returned home. When she related the story to them however, they went ballistic and accused her of trying to poison their child, despite it being them who'd left the stuff in such a daft place. The mind boggles. This was the latest in a series of events, and she'd already arranged to be transferred to a different family in a week or so, but at this point she decided she'd had enough and picked up her stuff and left. Takes a lot of guts to do that in a foreign country I reckon, but she's staying with a friend now and the agency she works through are being helpful, so all should be well. Still, scary biscuits and all that.
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Smoking in public. [Nov. 17th, 2004|01:53 pm]
As you are probably aware, the new White Paper on Public Health is proposing a ban on smoking in most public areas, including restaurants and pubs which serve food. (BBC Story)

I'm not quite sure how I feel about this. From a purely selfish perspective, I've been trying on and off to quit for about three years now, and it would certainly be easier if I couldn't smoke in pubs, and didn't have people smoking around me, but I don't suppose my personal preference is really that relevant in deciding whether or not there should be a ban.

On the one hand, I'm quite strongly in favour of freedom of choice, but naturally that comes with the caveat of "only when it doesn't hurt other people without their consent". Now there isn't really much controversy any more as to whether passive smoking is harmful, but I think there is a case to be made that going into venues which permit smoking is a form of consent to being in a smoky environment. I suppose what I'm wondering is whether or not the consent is coerced or not. I'm not sure about other towns, but Cambridge has a reasonable number of non-smoking restaurants, and almost all of them have a non-smoking section*. We also have two non-smoking pubs, but that certainly isn't enough for all the non-smokers in the town to drink in.

It certainly seems to have become the social norm that people who dislike smoking are supposed to suffer that, rather than smokers have to suffer going without for an evening, but I wonder whether this is simply a habit, rather than because one kind of suffering is any worse that the other. So what do you think?

Poll #386241 Smoking ban
Open to: All, results viewable to: All

Which of these most accurately describes you?

View Answers

I smoke and am against the proposed ban.
7 (7.5%) 7 (7.5%)

I smoke and am in favour of the proposed ban.
7 (7.5%) 7 (7.5%)

I smoke and am undecided about the proposed ban.
5 (5.4%) 5 (5.4%)

I don't smoke and am against the proposed ban.
15 (16.1%) 15 (16.1%)

I don't smoke and am in favour of the proposed ban.
46 (49.5%) 46 (49.5%)

I don't smoke and am undecided about the proposed ban.
13 (14.0%) 13 (14.0%)

Do you think your status as a smoker or otherwise affects your view on the ban?

View Answers

Yes
50 (53.8%) 50 (53.8%)

No
26 (28.0%) 26 (28.0%)

Not consciously, but perhaps.
17 (18.3%) 17 (18.3%)



*I'm aware that the usefulness of non-smoking sections depends on how sensitive you are, but it's generally better than nothing.
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Vanity, part the second [Nov. 15th, 2004|11:15 pm]
In my previous entry I wrote about the social problem of vanity, the fact that people often object if you consider yourself better than them, and I considered various interpretations of my viewpoint that I, and my favourite people are on balance better than most people. I still feel quite uncomfortable saying that, even though most of the time I do believe it to be true, which makes me think that there is a cultural pressure to modesty, even when false.

Now I'd like to consider another danger of vanity, and one which I think has the potential to be a lot more serious.

One of the most important things I learned when I was struggling particularly hard with depression was that I needed to accept "good enough". I had to acknowledge that I didn't always need to do things perfectly, that I could make mistakes, and that things would work out more-or-less okay, and there was no need to castigate myself for every little variation from the ideal. Accepting that sometimes "good enough" could substitute for perfect allowed me to stop hating myself for long enough to get better, and that's a very good thing.

But when I'm not depressed*, I'm able to do a lot more than the good enough I was managing back then. And what's more, I'm older and more learned and wiser and kinder and so on, so the same amount of effort, of spoons if you will, has a greater positive effect on the world, on my life, whatever I'm trying to achieve. And of course this a good thing, but if I was good enough before, then obviously now that means I'm doing much better than good enough, and there comes a temptation to sit back smugly and lapse into complacency.

I was about to say that there perhaps there are two types of good enough, the one which I learned before, and another, probably never achieved, which is simply the best that you could theoretically manage if you knew exactly where you wanted to be and focused all your energy on getting there. But that's not quite right.

Oh, bother. I've got all these half-formed thoughts, but it's late and if I try to get them coherent then I'll never get to bed. It's something to do with not being prideful, and accepting that there's a lot of room for improvement, and that in this life you will never be as good as you could be, and always always striving to be better, but still managing to love and like yourself. To be satisfied and yet not at the same time. Can anyone tell me what it is I'm trying to say?

*or only as mildly so as I am at the moment
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Vanity, part the first [Nov. 15th, 2004|08:15 pm]
I've been musing a little more about last night's conversation about vanity, and thought I might try to explore some of the ideas with you, dear readers.

One of the most striking things that was said it that there is a belief amongst some people on livejournal that "if you show evidence of not hating yourself then you're evil". Now on the face of it this is clearly absurd; hatred is pretty much de facto a bad thing, but nonetheless there does seem to be this rather spurious and presumably subconscious idea that a) if you don't deprecate yourself at every opportunity then you must be arrogant, and b) being arrogant is simply the worst thing ever.

Now clearly the first statement is incorrect, but it's quite easy to see how people can react to a desire not to be arrogant by going as far in the other direction as possible, and even if they don't do that, there isn't really a clear dividing line which we can point to and say "This is the ideal level of self-assurance to have". But that's not really the interesting bit; what I want to look at is this question of why arrogance is seen to be such a terrible thing.

As far as I can tell there are two problems that can arise. The first is a social one; that thinking highly of oneself is a fairly small step away from thinking that you are better than some, most or particular other people. Turning this around, it means judging other people to be worse than you, and I think that really, this is what is considered unacceptable behaviour. But it's pretty much indisputable that some people are better than others at some things; I don't really think it's unacceptable for me to say that I'm better at mathematics than the vast majority of people (although a much smaller majority of my readers here). Similarly, I think that nearly everyone I socialise with on a regular basis is considerably more intelligent than the population at large, and that therefore the population at large is relatively speaking quite stupid.

But that sort of thing can be dismissed with the argument that everyone had their strengths and weaknesses, and it's good to be aware of them, but that it all balances out in the end. Doesn't it? And this is where it becomes tricky, because try as I might, I can't really accept that everyone averages out the same. If there is any objective standard by which people can be judged*, then it is phenomenally unlikely that everyone is at the same point - in fact, if we have any ability to improve or degrade on the scale (which surely we must believe if we are to have any hope for the world), then it is impossible.

Now if I'm honest, I tend to think that both I and my favourite people are better than average at nearly everything. I'm very poor at being industrious and at saying no to something which is fun but bad for me, and I'm a lousy singer. Apart from that I do struggle to think of things that I'm actively bad at (well, okay, modesty, I could probably work on that), but there are really quite a lot of things I'm good at. Similarly, I'm aware of a couple of flaws in most of the people I'm close to, balanced out by a whole host of wonderful qualities.

I can think of four different ways of explaining this viewpoint, and tend towards one or the other depending on mood. The first, and in many ways most appealing, is that I am lucky enough to have been born, or grown into, an exceptional person, and that as like draws to like, I have become surrounded by other exceptional people. The second, which I like least, and tend toward when I'm feeling depressed, is that the flaws I have are sufficiently serious that they do balance out against my virtues, which I probably over-inflate anyway.

The third, and probably most accurate, is that my values have been formed around the things which I'm good at, and that in fact there are many things which I can't do, but forget about and disregard as unimportant, failing to realise that /somebody/ needs to be good at them, and that it's quite likely that someone in another group of friends who have these skills and qualities is sitting there wondering how they got so lucky as to be, and be surrounded by people who are, good at everything important (except that that particular skillset probably doesn't include this kind of philosophical self-questioning).

The fourth, and the one that I think should be the most appealing, even if isn't quite so ego-stroking as the first, is that many of the qualities one which I am basing my judgment are pretty much irrelevant to the objective scale on which I should be judging them. That things like cleverness and charm and wit and being good company and so on aren't really that relevant when it comes to being like Christ (I am of course compelled to take this as my objective standard for goodness, although the non-Christians amongst my readership may wish to interpret this as acting through Agape whereever possible, which I believe is the same thing), and that qualities such as generosity, loyalty, selflessness and tolerance are really what matters. There is still a great abundance of these things amongst my friends, but it may well be that this is fact truer of the population as a whole than my blinkered judgments based on the sparseness of said cleverness etc. has lead me to believe.

There is a second part of this to follow, in which I consider the danger that vanity can lead to stagnation, but I have a meeting to go to now and it will have to wait until I get home.

*If there isn't then I suppose the whole question becomes a bit moot, but that's a whole other discussion, and I don't want to get too distracted.
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Days of good cheer. [Nov. 15th, 2004|11:45 am]
That was a very good weekend; I wish it hadn't ended.

Saturday afternoon was spent with the always wonderful [info]duranorak, having conversations than needed to be had, and squeaking about pretty goths, and cuddling and stuff. In the evening was the housewarming party, and there were many fabulous people who seemed to have a good time. I had a slight wibble towards the end of the evening, triggered by nothing in particular, but I did manage to stay sober, so that's good. Thanks to all who came, and apologies for being slightly unsociable as the evening drew to a close.

Yesterday was simply magical. The walk to church was glorious; it was one of those perfect crisp bright mornings, the way autumn is supposed to be. It was quiet and calm, but inside I was almost overwhelmed with love for the man beside me and the city around me. Mass was very good, and my faith is getting stronger all the time. I also felt slightly less nervous than usual at drinks afterward, which is a good sign, and hopefully the start of a trend.

Instead of having lunch at the Grad Pad, [info]robert_jones and I went to Loch Fyne, and fed each other oysters, and it was all terribly romantic. After lunch we went and drank coffee in the Arts Cinema cafe and read the newspaper together talked and talked, and despite being rather sleepy he somehow managed to say all the right things, or ask the right questions or something like that. At any rate, either he convinced me or I convinced myself that my life isn't quite so hopelessly destined to mediocrity as I believed on Friday night. Hopefully I'll be able to keep this in mind for more than a fleeting moment.

In the evening we listened to [info]libellum sing choral evensong at Downing chapel, and then joined her for formal hall there. I reverted to feeling slightly nervous then, but hopefully came across as shy and a bit mysterious, rather than dull and a bit standoffish. After dinner and port with the chaplain we went and had tea in Helen's room. I stopped feeling nervous then, not so much because I didn't think that I would be laughed at (for indeed I was), but because from those two I don't actually mind it. I think that says something very good about the friendships between the three of us, although I can't quite articulate what. We had interesting conversations about whether differences are between the sexes or between the genders or both, and whether they were inherent or societal or perceived without really existing, and about arrogance and whether it was more socially acceptable to be vain about ones looks or intellect, triggered by looking at photographs of Helen, in which she looked very beautiful.

Then home, to get an almost sensible amount of sleep, although it didn't feel like it when the alarm went off.

I wasn't terribly cheerful this morning, but I can probably blame that as much on being tired and being parted from Robert as anything else. I think it likely that there are more moments of desperation before this episode is entirely banished, but it is not constant, and it will be banished. I may feel isolated and alone at times, but that is not accurate; I love, and I am loved; I have fantastic friends, and I rather think that if they like me even half as much as they appear to then I must have something going for me really.
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Pay attention 007 [Nov. 13th, 2004|01:49 am]
Right. Yes. I had been wondering, and then I opened up MSWord and the following poured out. I think I may be back into a mild depression. I wouldn't worry too much. I'm sure I'll come out of it, just as soon as I can schedule a holiday. Sorry for any inconvenience.

It’s half past one in the morning, and I can see it crawling forward toward another four am. I’m slightly drunk, but what I really want is class A drugs, something with the kick to take me out of myself, something that will let me really forget who I am, rather than just not remember remembering in the morning.

It’s not really that bad at the moment. I’m tired a lot of the time, and everything feels like far more effort than it should, but in relative terms, it’s just a blip. But that in itself is scary. I’m rendered so incompetent, so lethargic and feckless, and this is only the tiniest hint of what could be just around the corner.

There’s a compelling argument to be made that depression isn’t a disorder at all, that actually, in a world like this, humans being what we are, depression is actually the only sane response, and those people whom we consider sane are living in a dream world where they convince themselves there is a point to all this ongoing tedium. I don’t know why I bother really. It’s all so grey. We keep striving to achieve... what... can I even remember what I was looking for when everything seemed so bright?

I thought I had it all. I thought I had a future, a present, and then the past that was hell didn’t matter so much, but then the present dissolved, and the future moved further and further away, and the past came crashing down on me and told me in no uncertain terms that it would never let me go.

I finish my drink, and it hits me cold that I am going to refill my glass, again and again, until the edges become fuzzy enough to stop hurting, and then I will hurt myself to bring them back again. I am going to bleed tonight. Again. Blood and tears have become a regular part of my life again; the past becomes the present, and the golden future floats away to the end of the rainbow.

And I shrug.

This is a temporary madness; it can be afforded on a Friday night when there is no need to get in to work early tomorrow morning; there is no need to convince the world that I am all peachy for a couple of days. And then there will be again, and I will rise to the occasion, though it tears me to pieces to do so. I suppose it is for the best really, that I have the world and its requirements to keep me in check. If there were no consequences to me losing my mind again, then perhaps I would let go and rant and rave until they took me away and locked me up.

As it is I must hold on by hook or by crook. I can indulge the little things. I can find an isolated space in a lunch hour and weep. I can arrange to be in the office alone one afternoon and curl up in the corner until sleep takes me in the middle of the day, since the nights before were spent rocking and babbling and talking to myself. I can bleed beneath my clothes where nobody can see. I can write self-indulgent nonsense and throw it out to the wolves of cyberspace to be laughed at. And then I can sigh, and go to bed, and get on with real life. For now at least. Perhaps the time will come, when there isn’t the same need for me to be the strong one, when I can let things slip, when I can be unable to get up in the morning. Until then, I’ll be okay. I always am.
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Rambling [Nov. 7th, 2004|10:56 pm]
I just had a telephone conversation with my mother, and the melancholy which has been eating at me on and off for the past week has abated for a while, although it is still pressing at the edge of my consciousness, and I fear it will not be terribly long before it returns. I mention this because it bears recalling from time to time just how much I love and respect my parents.

I cannot have been an easy person to bring up. As a young child I was extremely bossy and opinionated. I was never quite a bully, but could perhaps have turned into one had circumstances been slightly different. Even before adolescence kicked in however, I became depressed, and what is more, I held them to blame for bringing me into this vale of tears. It is only in later years that I have come to realise how fiercely and protectively they love me, and I do not like to think of the heart-break I must have caused them. Later, the depression became augmented by my attempts to cope with it by living life on the razor's edge. It would be hypocritical, foolish and simply incorrect for me to suggest that sex'n'drugs'n'rock'n'roll are damaging in themselves, but there is little doubt that the way in which I approached them was harmful. To watch me as I took risks, and realise that I would only learn from my own mistakes; to offer advice and then step back and let me decide whether or not to take it; to look after me when it all came crashing down, with not even a hint of an 'I told you so'; this must have taken more wisdom, patience, forbearance, forgiveness, and most of all love, than I can ever deserve, or even entirely fathom. They truly are amazing people. I just thought that needed to be said.

I am almost tempted to give up on my NaNovel. Partly this is because I managed to lose some words, and then was too tired to write on Friday, and I'm slipping slightly behind on my word count (although I suppose that spending my time writing LJ entries is not the way to fix this). Mostly though, it is because I am concerned that spending several hours a day trying to get inside the head of a depressed woman is not entirely wise, as I've been inching into dysthymia of late anyway, and I don't want to encourage it. Unfortunately, giving up at this point would make me feel rather negatively about myself, which would likely counter any benefit it would bring. I shall continue for a few more days, and perhaps if I can make substantial progress I will be cheered out of this fae mood.

The sermon at Mass this morning was talking about the importance of place, and this resonated with some of what I have been feeling of late. Many of you will already know that Cambridge is very much the home-of-my-heart. Within days of arriving, before I had really settled into a group of people, before my friendships here had deepened beyond the superficial, there was a sense of belonging that came from something quite seperate to that. It is something about the richness of the history. The feeling that nearly eight hundred years of academia has filtered its way into the stones of the buildings, the cobbles around Market Square, the earth of Castle Mound, and the very air around us. Although I intend to leave for London in the next couple of years, I will be leaving a part of me behind.

And yet, despite the overwhelming feeling that Cambridge as a city is home, the place where I actually live is not. I do not belong to this house, with its green and yellow wallpaper, its pine and chipboard wardrobes. I do not belong to this suburban street, with its middle-class middle-aged residents who have lived here for years and years. I feel uncomfortable here, unwelcome. I delay coming back here, and when I do cross the threshold I make my way quickly up to my bedroom and my computer, exiting the house into the minds of my characters, or the twisting passageways of cyberspace.

And yet if I think longer, examine myself further, I realise that it is not the house that is causing the problem, but myself. I am not at home here because that part of me which creates or discovers or attaches to this nebulous thing we call Home, is not functioning correctly. It's all very well to say that I am changing, and changing for the better, but it is happening so fast, and yet it has been happening for so long now that I am lacking a strong sense of identity. All the assumptions I had about my personality are being proved false, and by the time I have come to terms with who I have become more changes have occurred and even these terms are out of date. Until I have a better understanding of what makes up my Self, it is an impossible task to find a place which that Self can fit into. But without the groundedness that such a place provides, it becomes orders of magnitude harder to identify what that Self is.

I imagine this will become easier when I have more time, a chance to breathe and to regroup. Until then, I hope you will forgive a little fragility.
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The relative virtues of depth and breadth [Oct. 24th, 2004|12:05 am]
I do not have enough time in which to read. This is something I've been saying for nearly as long as I can remember; certainly since I started my A-levels, which I suppose is only seven years ago, but I often feel as though my life didn't really start until then anyway. For the past year or two I've been making an effort to read more serious books, branching out from the science-fiction and fantasy which made up most of my literary intake until then. And this is very much a good thing, but there's /so/ much which I feel I should have read and haven't, and I'm lucky if I find as much as four or five hours a week in which I'm free to read, so I feel compelled to eat my way through books as quickly as possible, in a perhaps futile effort to catch up with my peers, who all seem so much better read than I.

I just finished reading C.S.Lewis's "The Problem of Pain", which addresses that oft-discussed conundrum - the apparent contradiction between God's omnipotence, benevolence, and the existence of suffering. I enjoyed it a great deal, and certainly came out of it with some ideas to chew over, most notably with respect to the necessity for pain to exist in a world where man is separate from God. But there was a lot there which I think went over my head. In particular, there were several sentences and paragraphs which really didn't make much sense, and perhaps if I'd spent longer re-reading those passages and musing on them they may have done, but it would have meant trebling or more the length of time I spent reading it, and perhaps made it seem much more chore-like than it otherwise would. I have this hope that I can take what I've learned, and after leaving it in the back of my mind, return to the book in a few weeks, at which point it will be much clearer, but in reality, I know that the likelihood of doing so when there are so many other books to read, other ideas to try and absorb, is fairly minimal.

In reality, I feel as though my knowledge at the moment is in a poor state of balance, with neither sufficient breadth for me to feel a true polymath, nor any subjects which I understand sufficiently deeply to consider myself a specialist. Perhaps ultimately, the problem is simply that I know so little in objective terms. I suppose I can blame youth for this to some extent, but even those of my peers who are my age or younger seem much more knowledgeable, and I am left thinking that perhaps I am just lazy, or worse, that I have based my opinion of my own intellect on a precocious childhood, and that really I have just failed to absorb knowledge to the same extent that others do.
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