Diary of a Grammatical Misfit

…I tell the butterflies flapping in my stomach, sternly. “There’s just no point getting all het up about it now is there?”

Flutter flutter flutter FLAP!

Damn them.

I have an exam tonight. Not the hardest exam in the world and since I’ve been working stupid hours recently and have been pretty stressed, I really couldn’t be bothered to study for it.

I sat with my books most of Saturday and Sunday. Picking them up, idly flicking through them and then - feeling absolutely no compulsion to worry about this rather insignificant test - putting them down again, unread.

No worry, no panic = not really caring, therefore no study, no preparation = no problem.

But today the butterflies have arrived.

Flutter flutter flutter PANIC!

“Where the hell were you yesterday when you might have been useful hey?”

The plates sat, mostly empty, in front of them. The last few mouthfuls had been scooped up slower and slower before the forks clattered down with a metallic sigh of relief and the lean-back pose was adopted to allow for greater comfort.

I had overfed my guests. Quite significantly it seemed.

I love to cook for people. And I don’t generally bother with recipe books (except for puddings which need to be more precise). This usually works out in the taste department but not for quantities.

In this case, a simple spaghetti bolognaise for a Friday night with the girls turned into an endurance trial, with no-one quite wanting to leave food uneaten but no-one quite having the stomach capacity to do it easily.

I looked around guiltily. Wishing, for the umpteenth time, that I’d kept some food back for seconds and/or leftovers or better still, checked a recipe book - not so much to specify ingredients but to give some idea how to cook suitable portions for more than two people.

“Anyone for cheesecake?” I asked, half-heartedly.

It happened when I walked into the kitchen and saw the woman sitting at the table.

“She’s your mother”, said the prompt in its infuriatingly calm voice, so like and yet unlike the voice of the infuriatingly calm counsellor.

Although it’s been a while, the prompt got so quick at identifying when it was needed that its voice was my first alert that anything was wrong.

I looked at her for a second and realised that the prompt was right on cue. “Yes she is.” I agreed in my own infuriatingly calm inner voice.

The prompt continued with its stream of stage directions, each one filling in the details of my role, ensuring that I didn’t stray from the plot, in the play of my own life.

This is the coping mechanism I have developed for those periods when a solid barrier slams down between my consciousness and its emotional connections to the world around me. When the world becomes unreal and my part in it mere fabrication. When my mother, whom I love, becomes a woman sitting in a chair - identifiable as my mother but only in the same way as I’d identify a cat as having four legs and a snail as having none.

The prompt keeps me on track. I hate it because of what it represents, but rely on it to step in and feed me my lines during the times when I need a script to play myself.

Just so that I can smile at my mother and say “Good morning Mum.” in the part of her daughter and not the dissociated stranger who sometimes inhabits her body.

It’s rapidly becoming “one of those weeks”. Which is a bit harsh because it’s actually the third or fourth of those weeks which makes it more like “one of those months” or “one of those periods of time”.

Not quite so catchy that. And less resulting in understanding and forgiveness when used as excuse for doing, well, nothing.

Hmmm.

Had a great weekend though, so the non-working bits of the weeks aren’t quite so ‘one of those’ or even three of those or whatever.

Back in Bristol I feel solace, comfort, homeliness, security. Which is odd considering I’ve been at my most miserable there as well as my most happy. But still, all the good vibes mean it’s my favourite place to spend a weekend, drinking like students only with the happy wallets of the waged. 

So that was good.

And so was winning a prize in my evening class last night. Showing off has its merits when pop quizes mean prizes, oh yes! 

In other news, I was amused by a comment from my friend in a faffbook scrabble game who just messaged saying only you could score 22 points with ‘an’

I think she meant it as a compliment.

But other than that, my mind’s all over the place. I’m pretty much desperate for that long weekend now. There’s stuff to wrap my head around like careers and complications and applications and emmigrations… 

Come pretty Friday, come…

Since I don’t seem to have anything to say at the moment I’m doing this. 

These questions came from an email questionnaire. Bizarrely it came from my sister who I thought probably should know nearly all the answers anyway…

1.  What time did you get up this morning?
6.20 (eurgh)
2.  Diamond or pearls?  
Diamonds
3.  What was the last film you saw at the cinema? 
Oh gosh, not sure. Hairspray I think. Or was it Harry Potter 5? Whichever was later…
4. What is your favorite TV show(s)
Top five in no particular order: Numb3rs, Countdown, Have I got News for You, Heroes, QI.
Of things on at the moment: Lewis but only coz I’m a bit in love with Hathaway
5.  What do you usually have for breakfast?      
Croissant, toast or bread. Can’t stomach anything else first thing.
6.  What food do you dislike?  
Anything aniseed or almond flavoured.
7.  What is your favourite CD at the moment?      
Bizarelly old fashioned question - haven’t listened to a CD in months. I’ve been listening to a lot of drum and bass style music on my MP3 this week though, I’ve just been in the mood for it.
8.  What kind of car do you drive?
Renault Megane
9.  Favorite sandwich?
I like variety so nothing’s my favourite or it would quickly stop being so. BLT is a classic though - home made with hot bacon and cracked black pepper. (Hungry now!)
10.  What characteristic(s) do you despise?
Slow wit, clumsiness (mental rather than physical), stupidity and arrogance (as quoted from my about me page – I could list a lot more but those are the main ones).
11.  Favorite item of clothing?  
PJs probably because if I’m wearing them then I’m most likely to be relaxed.
12.  If you could go anywhere in the world where would it be?

My top five places I want to visit in alphabetical order: Argentina, Brazil, Cuba, Egypt, Russia.

My favourite places in the world: San Francisco, New Zealand, Bristol. And I’m going to one of them today - hooray!
13.   Favorite brand of clothing?  
Don’t have one.
14.  Where would you retire to? 
Anywhere with good company, sunshine, shops and theatres.
15.  What was your most recent memorable birthday?
I remember all of my birthdays and enjoyed most of them. None of them have really been what I would call ‘memorable’ though, just really nice.
I would like to do something memorable one day. Maybe for my 30th (gulp!)
16.  Favorite sport to watch?  
Oh dear, I love watching sport. Top five are: football, rugby, snooker, ice skating and gymnastics. Depends on my mood (and what’s on!).
17.  When is your birthday?  
19th July
18.  Are you a morning person or a night person?  
Night
19.  What is your shoe size?    
6 (UK)
20.  Pets?  
One demanding 17-year old black cat
21 .  Any new and exciting news you’d like to share with us?
Gosh, ‘new and exciting’ is setting the bar a bit high! I’ve signed up for two more courses this week –a second one in law and one in counselling skills. That’s new, not necessarily exciting!
22.  What did you want to be when you were little?
A lawyer or a writer. I’ve ended up being neither.
23.  How are you today?
Fine thank you, and you mr inquisitive email?
24.  What is your favorite candy? 
Wispas. Definitely. Or really luxurious pralines but I don’t really think of them as ‘candy’.
25.  What is your favorite flower?  
Lillies for the star shape but I’m getting into orchids now since my mother started collecting them.
26.  What is a day on the calendar you are looking forward to?
It was August bank holiday weekend but that’s been slightly screwed up and I’m not looking forward to it as much as I was last week. Maybe next Friday - the 4-day easter break. That’s pretty cool.
27. What is a day on the Calendar you are least looking forward to?
None at the moment.
28.  What are you listening to right now?  
The sounds of traffic on the Strand
29. What was the last thing you ate?
A croissant with ham and cheese.
30.  Do you wish on stars? 
I don’t recall. But I’ve never seen a shooting star, if I did I would wish on that.
31. If you were a crayon, what color would you be?
Multicoloured. Or brown coz it’s what you get if you melt several different colours and put them together.
32.  How is the weather right now?  
Grey. Not wet not cold not warm not anything, just grey.
33.  Last person you spoke to on the phone?  
My boss.
34.  Favorite soft drink? 
Diet Coke
35.  Favourite restaurant?  
I don’t have a favourite restaurant but one of my favourite places to eat is a pub in Bristol - where I’m going tomorrow night. 
36.  Hair color?  
Sludge brown
37.  What was your favorite toy as a child?       

I don’t remember having a favourite. My Little Ponies were pretty good.

38.  Summer or winter?
Summer
39.  Hugs or Kisses?
I like both in different ways.
40.  Chocolate or Vanilla?  

As a flavour or smell - chocolate, as ice cream - vanilla.

41.  Coffee or Tea?  
Coffee
42. When was the last time you cried?  
Don’t remember exactly. Last week sometime.
43. What is under your bed?
Shoe, bags and a big box of tickets and programmes from theatres, museums etc.
44.  What did you do last night?
Worked late, ate dinner with my parents, packed my suitcase and went to bed. Riveting stuff huh?!
45.  What are you afraid of?
Myself mostly, losing control. Although there are many other things I dread, I wouldn’t say I fear them because most are, sadly, inevitable.
46. Salty or Sweet?
Depends on what it is!
47.  How many keys on your key ring?  
The key ring I have with me at the moment has about 15. Way too many.
48.  Favorite day of the week?
Working week - Thursday. Otherwise Saturday or Sunday depending on what I’m doing.
49.  How many towns have you lived in?
I’ve never lived in a town. One city (6 different places in it) and one village.
50.  Do you make friends easily?     

No.

Have you ever met one of those people that you feel can look right through you and read the thoughts as they form in your brain, even before your inner processor has sifted through them, put them into words, tracked a few changes and declared them fit for speech?

I had a conversation with a person like that on Saturday. And not about something safe and nice like the weather or what was on telly last night but about icky squirmy stuff like ‘how I felt’ and ‘what I thought’.

It’s left me ever so slightly completely terrified. But in a kind of good way. Maybe.

The first shot came out of the blue and I felt myself flinch. I hadn’t even realised that a game was due, so the ferocity of the strike came as quite a shock. I blocked as best I could, wondering what the hell was going on.

During the first break in play, I conferred quickly with my friend. It turned out there was history - I hadn’t realised - and it seemed my opponent was out for my blood.

I sighed and dragged myself back to the arena, wondering why I still bother playing such a futile sport.

She took the opportunity for a quick smash, but prepared now, I returned. And as we parried and the score remained level, I dimly noticed that bystanders were now looking on with interest.

This was not good.

Not only was she trying to humiliate me but now it was going to be in public. I felt my irritation grow at the ridiculousness of the situation and decided to fight back. I might be a reluctant participant in this match but dammit, I knew how to play and I was not about to get beaten like some rookie. I geared myself up to finish this as quickly and as neatly as possible.

I had a feeling I knew where she was leading and so I let her steer the play, let her think she was building up for her winning shot while I carefully plotted mine.

The moment came and I took the point. With well-executed style.

Her face twisted in ill-disguised fury and she whacked a further shot angrily and carelessly. It was now obvious to the spectators that she was playing a dirty game and I realised she had handed me the moral victory as well.

I smiled blithely and conceded the point. We both knew the game was over anyway and her final remark said far more about her than it did about me.

I may not play the bitch game anymore, but once an evil sarcastic sniper, always equipped for the fight.

I’m the world’s best at makeup application. Or at least, I’m not terrible at it, but I don’t generally bother putting any on unless I have to look smart for a meeting or if I feel like jazzing up a bit to go out.

This morning was one of those times when I bothered so I slapped on the powder, shoved on a bit of eyeshadow and used my nearly black daytime mascara. And then I applied my brand new lipstick.

The thing is, I actually haven’t worn lipstick since I was teenager. I’m strictly a lipbalm or, in exceptional circumstances, lipgloss kind of girl. But I had some television training the other week and I was shocked to realise how pale my lips looked on camera and how empty the lower part of my face looked as a result. And since Boots have been giving away £5 vouchers, I decided I had reached the stage when I needed to start wearing lipstick.

The product I chose applies like a lipgloss - I thought I’d stick with what I knew - and since today was my first chance to try it out, I applied the colour and then the top coat and had a look in the mirror.

My first lesson: It turns out that, unlike lipgloss, the colour actually comes out looking like it does in the tube - pink. Very deep pink. And shiny too. In short, I had managed to give myself a pout that would rival Jessica Rabbit’s.

Since that wasn’t really the look I was going for, for a 10.30am business meeting, I went to get a tissue to wipe the stuff off.

My second lesson: Lipstick has really moved on since the stuff I had ten years ago - when they say ’stay perfect’ they damn well mean it. I could not rub the bloody stuff off. The tissue came off clean each time and my mouth stayed perfectly and prominently pink.

My third lesson: That even a basic makeup bag should really contain some makeup remover for those times when things go wrong.

Since I had learned all three lessons far too late, I added a layer or two of mascara to balance my mouth and left for the meeting with my perfectly pink pout leading the way.

The past few weeks I have been hermit girl - ferociously hoarding every precious minute of my non-work time for study.

Of course that carefully stashed cache of time then gets squandered recklessly on mah-jong and solitaire… Damn computer games!

But that’s not the point. What is, is that I’m utterly crap at the hermit thing. A couple of nights of doing nothing is restful, any more is just boring. And it’s not actually conducive to work because I’m fed up. I sit staring at my text book with such an aura of listlessness that I’m surprised the words don’t hurl themselves off the page in sheer despair.

So I have de-hermitted myself. And now I have plans for cocktails and chat this evening, wine and chat tomorrow, beer and chat for Friday and coffee and chat on Saturday.

On Sunday I will study. Hopefully rested and happy and with a brain full of alcohol. No, er, ideas and inspiration. Yes, all that stuff.

…excluding the usual suspects of work, studying and self-loathing. Happily, mostly the former two. (Um… did I say “happily”?!?)

I guess that’s been the reason for my blogging hiatus this week. It certainly isn’t because I haven’t had the time or the inclination. I’ve spent significant minutes twiddling my thumbs (quite literally, I do like the occasional foray into Victorian idiosyncrasy when given the chance but I’m really crap at swooning) and I have quite often had the urge to log on and bleed out a little bit of my inner mental writhing into lucid (hey, it’s a relative term ok!) thoughtful (ditto) typing.

But I have been completely lacking in bloggy thoughts. And so the thoughts remain tumultuous and wriggly, unformed and unletted. And I become increasingly insensible of thought and speech. Rambling twaddle pours from my mouth in every conversation and my dreams leave my bed covers on the floor and my hair in mad professor style.

So I’m rather hoping that now we’re in a new month, silly, strange or just annoying things happen and inspire me to blog a bit more. I need the rest!