Update

So... recently, I have taken to making lists in my diary of things I could write blogs about. Partially cos ideas occur to me now and then. Partially cos I want to stay away from prattling on about boys. And partially cos it's recently been suggested to me that I should be approaching this a bit more like proper writing, rather than just messing around, and trying to improve it. All of these things are good, but I realised this morning that they'd kinda made me freeze, and not think of this as being fun, but instead feel like a situation that has some pressure attached. Which I really don't want, as I like writing in here and I want it to remain fun.

Hence, this entry is not going to be some great work of art (or even a minor league one, lol), but will instead be a random collection of some of the thoughts I have had lately. I still have list of proper writing topics, and I will come back to them... and it's good to know that some people think this is worthy of constructive criticism (and seriously, thanks to the wonderful man who proffered it, it is greatly appreciated)... but for now I just want to keep things ticking over with some nonsense.

I am now about seven weeks into my year without a boyfriend. Again, I just want to stress... I'm genuinely not so arrogant as to think I could be clicking my fingers and a boyfriend would just appear... I'd still not have a boyfriend even if I hadn't made this new year's resolution... but still, the resolution is reframing things for me, and making me think about all this love stuff a bit differently. Here are some things that have happened and some thoughts I have had since last writing.

Firstly, I was walking to the osteopath on Wednesday morning, and my thoughts were running this way and that way, being influenced by the songs on my iPod and the shops I was walking past and by each other, not really following any specific path. Sooner or later, as they inevitably do, my thoughts turned to new year and what a catastrophy the most recent one had been. This, via a complex path I won't bore you all with, lead to a happy memory of when the most recent boyfriend and I hadn't been together long... which in turn lead to feeling an intense, painful pang of nostalgia and sadness. I wallowed in that for a moment, and then dragged my thoughts away by their hair by reminding myself of some of the reasons why it had to end... and then a postwoman walked past me, who was wearing a particularly cool pair of trainers.

These trainers reminded me of a pair of Swear trainers I had had about 10 years ago. These trainers were brilliant. They were black, so could be worn with everything, but were really high, and all wonky looking, with a big black panel on the front pulled over to one side with an intricate pattern of elastic and hooks, and had a little water-filled panel on the toe. And they were SO comfortable, they were almost more comfortable than bare feet. AND because they were so tall, they meant I could see better at gigs and wear baggy trousers without them getting quite so soggy in the rain. I miss those trainers so much - I could never find a pair anything like their equal - and as I saw the postwoman's similar (but nowhere near as good) shoes, I was hit with an intense, painful pang of nostalgia and sadness.

The realisation that I miss having a boyfriend about as much as I miss a pair of old trainers was a good one. I don't mean to belittle boyfriends - those were awesome trainers, I miss them A LOT - but still. It did put things into perspective somewhat.

A second thought. Jealousy. It's a funny thing, isn't it? I always used to say I wasn't a jealous person, but I think I just don't want to be a jealous person... it's not the same thing, sadly. Generally, I don't mind if my boyfriends have close female friends, even if those friends are ex-girlfriends... I'm pretty good at handling that kind of thing as I'm generally not daft enough to go out with someone I don't trust. The only exception to this was one of the exes who often talked about the fact he wanted an open relationship... I HATED it when he got all snuggly with other girls. Hilariously, if you wanna see it that way, he never cheated on me, whereas the ex I trusted most and who is still my best friend cheated on me shitloads. Go figure. But I do, apparently, get jealous over other things.

Do you remember, a few blogs ago, I was talking about a holiday I had been invited on, but couldn't go to because of the preponderance of ex-boyfriends littering up the place? Well, that holiday happened, and now they're all back and writing about it on the internet. And the second most recent ex-boyfriend posted about the great fun and japes he had with the most recent ex-boyfriend, and Oh My God, how I don't like that AT ALL. What if they talked about me? What if they compared notes about what a terrible girlfriend I am and how glad they are to be shot of me? More importantly... what if they DIDN'T talk about me? Is it possible that they could be getting on with their lives just fine without me? Surely, surely not. Jesus, it's twisting my soul up thinking about it. I'm not sure why it's made me jealous, but it has... searing, red hot jealousy, raging up my throat into my face, and through my veins into my clenched fists.

There's no solution there except to rise above it, something I'm shockingly bad at, so instead I'll move on.

A third thing. There's a fella who has caught my eye recently. He's made me go a bit giggly and silly. I've been dreaming about him and exchanging the occasion bit of face book banter with him. The funny thing is I don't really know this guy at all... I've spoken to him maybe three times, and all of those were quite a few months ago. I think it's like when you're 13 and you're in love with Michael Jackson... hang on, that sounds all kinds of wrong, it's not very like that at all. ;-) It's just that Michael Jackson was the one I was in love with when I was 13. I seriously thought we were gonna get married... I had it all planned. I was going to win a Booker Prize for my first novel, and he'd be at the ceremony, and our eyes would meet while I was accepting the award, and the rest would be history. I wasn't to know, alright?? But anyway... the whole point of teenage girls fantastising over pop stars - insert your own here - (I could make some kind of smutty joke here, but I'll refrain) is that it's safe. Michael Jackson was never actually going to come out of the poster on my ceiling and turn my daydreams into a disappointing reality full of unreturned phonecalls and thoughtless birthday presents and going out partying while I was recovering from surgery. And I think that - the fact that this boy is safe, that I don't really know him, that I'm pretty unlikely to see him unless it's engineered - is what's going on here.

I consider that I have passed my first test... my friend knows this boy I'm blushing over better than I do and has been asking if she should put in a good word or arrange a night the two of us will accidentally be at and so on, and I've said no. Just as sleeping is so much better than being awake, daydreams are better than real life. And (not that I'm assuming I've got a chance, but still) my god, I'd look a fool if I broke my resolution seven weeks into the year after announcing it on here with such pomp and circumstance, eh?

*e2a* Heh... have just realised that if I put a link to this on FB, said boy might read it. Am I gonna still do so anyway? Dimella!!

In other news, I never finished putting the Christmas poems up here, did I? So here's a couple more...

My Favourite Place

Whenever I’m needing some comfort,
or some morsels to fill up my face,
if I want to feel warm and loved and safe,
I head for Millena and Michael’s place.

“Morning, Johanna,” barks Michael,
tatty pants, floppy hair, knowing grin.
Cooking breakfast to feed 5,000
and making me laugh til I spin.

Len and I put Friends on the telly
into a bottle of wine we descend.
Soft hair, warm skin, warm soul, soft heart –
my best and most beautiful friend.



For Kaye and Olly

A target-loving techie – tidy and (you could say) tall.
A chaotic whirl of laughing colour, who always has a ball.
How come you two work so gorgeously
when you shouldn’t work at all?

Thumping German techno versus dirty, broken beats.
Computer games, dated takeaways versus acrobatic feats.
How come, when you’re so different,
the glow between you is complete?

Generous, intelligent, cool and full of flair,
Beautiful and funny, original beyond compare.
Of course, you share so much, and that is why
you are the perfect pair.