It has been brought to my attention that men are labouring under some kind of delusion and I feel for the good of womankind they need to be snapped out of it.
I work in a pub on Saturday nights, I find it a useful little earner in that it keeps me busy and it's cash in hand work; make me feel less guilty about buying that £3 bean salad from EAT which is not even the size of my fist. So, I am a part-time barmaid, and to be clear I am YOUNG part-time barmaid. Less than 25 years old for god sake, and the gentleman in question was aware of this. The gentleman in question is 36 (and no, I do not think that is old, merely a little old for me) but he looks older. He is also a beard wearing, bitter drinking, national trust gardener who is rumoured to pick up road kill to take it home to cook and frankly, looks like he might. Now none of that has ever really mattered to me, why would it? He seemed like a nice enough chap, and I never would have dreamed in a thousand years of thinking of him a potential anything in any way, shape or form. Just a guy who drank in the pub.
Now here comes the part to burst thousands of male bubbles... brace yourselves. Any good barmaid worth her taps knows how to flirt with the customers. Now listen closely cause this concerns you; we flirt/smile/chat and you stay in the pub and have a good time - you buy more beer - everyone's happy. WE DO NOT FANCY YOU. You do not have a chance to bed the barmaid; we do not find you irresistible. We are paid to do this! Plus if there is no one else in the bar, who else are we going to talk to?!? Do you think we like Rod Stewart and Abba that much that we want to listen to it uninterrupted? Hell no! At best, bar work is tedious and repetitive, so chatting to people is the only entertainment we got going for us.
Now I knew Crusty Man took a shine to me by the time he leered at me in the most grotesque fashion I have ever seen, a true old fashioned up and down with a signature lip curl; it's the sort of look that makes a girl stand up and tug her skirt down. After that I started seeing the signs... Girls you know what I mean. We can tell when you fancy us, you may think you are hiding it, but your not. It's obvious. Hell, we probably know before you do! So I'm seeing the signs and thinking, are you serious? You have a crush at your age? Oh No, not a crush, he thinks he has a chance. On what planet did that happen? I am barely into my twenties and I scrub up quite well thank you very much; I could have my pick of a number of men and this Flaky old tree climber thinks he can bowl up and ask me out? So he turns up, freshly shaved, just popping in for a quick pint before he goes on to another party. Yeah. Right. He wanted me to see him all tarted up, men are so predictable. He hands me a card, tells me the company he work for are having a party next week and if I want to go I should call him. I was so shocked I stammered out thanks and put the card on the side, and then he downed the rest of his pint and scampered off.
I ask you! I was mortified! I dare say I will never live it down. So to prevent any further confusion, I'm telling you now, the next time you think you have a chance with the barmaid, stand in front of the mirror, take a good long look at your self and ask yourself one question. Do I resemble her Dad?
Thursday, 26 March 2009
Wednesday, 25 March 2009
Why is it never somewhere in the middle?
What is it with jobs? You are either horrendously busy, rushing round like a blue arse fly, or you are sat at your desk looking at the day stretched out before you, an endless horizon, wondering what your possibly gonna do to fill the time that doesn't involve Facebook or internet shopping. Don't get me wrong I love Facebook, I think whoever invented it was a genius, but there is only so much time you can spend on there without turning into a psycho cyber stalker! As for the shopping, unless you are a secret millionaire and only working to keep you occupied, there is no way you could actually purchase all the items you would find on your endless scrolling.
You see, it's a spiralling cycle being bored; you sink lower and lower into a lethargy that is hard to shake off once you have work to do. You find you do things slower and that time moves slowly around you...You will finish some immensely boring and tedious task with low levels of enthusiasm and when you look at the clock only a few mins will have passed. Slumping into your chair, gradually sliding into that nook that just holds your bum on the chair while your legs are sprawled out under the desk, your typing gets sloppy and the gradual need to go to the toilet is utterly inconvenient as it involves vacating your area and trudging to the porcelain palace. Of course once your there you pee as slowly as possible and laboriously wash your hands before grimacing at your face/hair/outfit and scuffing your way back to your desk.
Caffeine. Caffeine is the answer.
So you begin the process again, peeling your unresponsive body off your swivel chair and scuffing to the kitchen, for once being content to wait behind the sea of numpties discussing their latest hard-on's and hand off's (by this I mean their business bravado and bitching), casually leaning against the counter you wait until they are done. Then you can resume you position at your desk with a steaming mug of something with a lot of caffeine and/or sugar and wait for all the happy chemicals to kick in.
Sigh. It's a necessary evil in order to keep you awake until that magic hand on the clock tick over to 5 and you can escape home for a nap. Either that or until the next wave of urgent, "Must be completed ASAP" work comes filtering down to your desk; face it, it will be one or the other, never somewhere in the middle.
You see, it's a spiralling cycle being bored; you sink lower and lower into a lethargy that is hard to shake off once you have work to do. You find you do things slower and that time moves slowly around you...You will finish some immensely boring and tedious task with low levels of enthusiasm and when you look at the clock only a few mins will have passed. Slumping into your chair, gradually sliding into that nook that just holds your bum on the chair while your legs are sprawled out under the desk, your typing gets sloppy and the gradual need to go to the toilet is utterly inconvenient as it involves vacating your area and trudging to the porcelain palace. Of course once your there you pee as slowly as possible and laboriously wash your hands before grimacing at your face/hair/outfit and scuffing your way back to your desk.
Caffeine. Caffeine is the answer.
So you begin the process again, peeling your unresponsive body off your swivel chair and scuffing to the kitchen, for once being content to wait behind the sea of numpties discussing their latest hard-on's and hand off's (by this I mean their business bravado and bitching), casually leaning against the counter you wait until they are done. Then you can resume you position at your desk with a steaming mug of something with a lot of caffeine and/or sugar and wait for all the happy chemicals to kick in.
Sigh. It's a necessary evil in order to keep you awake until that magic hand on the clock tick over to 5 and you can escape home for a nap. Either that or until the next wave of urgent, "Must be completed ASAP" work comes filtering down to your desk; face it, it will be one or the other, never somewhere in the middle.
Tuesday, 17 March 2009
In My Opinion...
"The truth is often a terrible weapon of aggression."
Aldred Adler - Psychiatrist.
I have often gotten myself into heated debates about one particular subject, it is not one that people often agree with me on, so I thought I would give it one last go in writing so that I can express myself clearly.
I believe that people have a responsibility when it comes to their opinion, it is theirs and only they can truly know what it is, therefore only they can truly gage the outcome of giving it. It is most people's school of thought that if you ask for someone's opinion that the outcome is entirely their own fault, but how can it be when they did not know what the opinion was? If you ask for someone's opinion and it is negative or hurtful, the general consensus is that you are not allowed to feel hurt by it because you asked for it in the first place. I have often found myself in the situation whereby I have been on the receiving end of a negative view on my choices or actions and upon expressing my distress was informed "you asked for my opinion" as if it absolved them of the matter. If a person asked to see inside a box and inside was a poisonous snake, and they were bitten, would you say "they asked to see inside"? If you knew the snake was in there, are you absolved of guilt because they asked? No! You would have prevented it, even if you could not tell the person what was in the box, you would not let them open it.
I believe the same of your opinions. There are people who will shout from the roof tops hurtful comments and sweeping generalisations, all the while protesting that it was their opinion and they are entitled to it. To this I say, yes you are entitled to your opinion but you also have a responsibility for it, anyone and everyone can think what he or she chooses to, but to express your opinions you do so at the risk of others, so you should be careful. I have opinions about people in my life and the people in theirs but I have learnt to judge situations so as not to create hurt. If you are asked for your opinion normally it is because to that person it is valued, which means you are valued, with that in mind would you so callously contradict them? In your heart you disagree but you can see that the person believes they acted for the best and are seeking reassurance, so do you give your honest opinion? Even if they asked for it? Could you look that person in the eye, and tell them that no, you don't think they acted for the best, or that they are making the wrong decision, and watch their face crumple and still believe that you acted correctly? What if this person was your Friend, or Lover, and you were now the reason for that distress, you can tell yourself that it wasn't your fault as they asked and you gave, but you still have to look at the hurt you caused. Do you still feel sure?
Now I am not saying that in the right circumstances you shouldn't give you unedited opinion, and I'm not saying you should lie, but I do believe that if someone asked for your opinion you should be sensitive to why they are asking you for it. Only you know what it is and the damage it can do, so only you can predict the future outcome.
I personally will go on tempering my opinions so as not to do any harm, but I will also try not to expect the same from others. There are those that believe that an opinion when asked for should always be truthfully given, a noble sentiment, but they should not be so surprised when I am hurt by a hurtful opinion. I have been told "I just didn't tell you what you wanted to hear" to which I reply, if you knew what I wanted to hear why did you deliberately go against it? Honesty? A steadfast hold to the Sword of Truth? I find myself disinclined to believe such glorified protestations.
So I leave you with this, the next time you tell someone your opinion, knowing full well the probable outcome, look at your intentions; are they as honourable as you protest?
“We need lies…in order to live.”
Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche - Philosopher
Aldred Adler - Psychiatrist.
I have often gotten myself into heated debates about one particular subject, it is not one that people often agree with me on, so I thought I would give it one last go in writing so that I can express myself clearly.
I believe that people have a responsibility when it comes to their opinion, it is theirs and only they can truly know what it is, therefore only they can truly gage the outcome of giving it. It is most people's school of thought that if you ask for someone's opinion that the outcome is entirely their own fault, but how can it be when they did not know what the opinion was? If you ask for someone's opinion and it is negative or hurtful, the general consensus is that you are not allowed to feel hurt by it because you asked for it in the first place. I have often found myself in the situation whereby I have been on the receiving end of a negative view on my choices or actions and upon expressing my distress was informed "you asked for my opinion" as if it absolved them of the matter. If a person asked to see inside a box and inside was a poisonous snake, and they were bitten, would you say "they asked to see inside"? If you knew the snake was in there, are you absolved of guilt because they asked? No! You would have prevented it, even if you could not tell the person what was in the box, you would not let them open it.
I believe the same of your opinions. There are people who will shout from the roof tops hurtful comments and sweeping generalisations, all the while protesting that it was their opinion and they are entitled to it. To this I say, yes you are entitled to your opinion but you also have a responsibility for it, anyone and everyone can think what he or she chooses to, but to express your opinions you do so at the risk of others, so you should be careful. I have opinions about people in my life and the people in theirs but I have learnt to judge situations so as not to create hurt. If you are asked for your opinion normally it is because to that person it is valued, which means you are valued, with that in mind would you so callously contradict them? In your heart you disagree but you can see that the person believes they acted for the best and are seeking reassurance, so do you give your honest opinion? Even if they asked for it? Could you look that person in the eye, and tell them that no, you don't think they acted for the best, or that they are making the wrong decision, and watch their face crumple and still believe that you acted correctly? What if this person was your Friend, or Lover, and you were now the reason for that distress, you can tell yourself that it wasn't your fault as they asked and you gave, but you still have to look at the hurt you caused. Do you still feel sure?
Now I am not saying that in the right circumstances you shouldn't give you unedited opinion, and I'm not saying you should lie, but I do believe that if someone asked for your opinion you should be sensitive to why they are asking you for it. Only you know what it is and the damage it can do, so only you can predict the future outcome.
I personally will go on tempering my opinions so as not to do any harm, but I will also try not to expect the same from others. There are those that believe that an opinion when asked for should always be truthfully given, a noble sentiment, but they should not be so surprised when I am hurt by a hurtful opinion. I have been told "I just didn't tell you what you wanted to hear" to which I reply, if you knew what I wanted to hear why did you deliberately go against it? Honesty? A steadfast hold to the Sword of Truth? I find myself disinclined to believe such glorified protestations.
So I leave you with this, the next time you tell someone your opinion, knowing full well the probable outcome, look at your intentions; are they as honourable as you protest?
“We need lies…in order to live.”
Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche - Philosopher
Tuesday, 17 February 2009
"Bitch!" - Think Again
It has come to my attention that the expression 'actions speak louder than words' is both apt and often misunderstood. I speak partly from experience and partly from my observations, you see I often wonder what people think of the stony faced girl in the corner, as often that can be me, and it occurred to me that if I have thought uncharitable thoughts towards that person that you have probably thought the same of me.
You see, 2008 was a hard year, in many ways, and as a result I find in 2009 I am not the same person I was. I, in no way think of this as a bad thing as a person should grow from year to year and learning from one's experiences and mistakes are the best methods for this. I am now far less trusting than I used to be, I am inclined to think the worst of people and I find cynicism comes quite naturally to me. When people object I say that I prefer to think this way as it lends to a life that is full of pleasant surprises instead of constant disappointment, but this is not entirely true. Yes, it is nicer to be surprised but that is not why I am cynical, I am cynical because that is what life has taught me, and I am nothing if not a good student. I'm sure I would be a much pleasanter person to have around if I smiled sweetly and was gaily optimistic about every man that asked for my number, or if I blithely trusted my employers to look out for my best interests, but, alas, I find that behaving in such a manner is not only stupid but unnecessarily painful. I salute those who have the energy and stamina to bounce back after very knock, but that, my friends is not moi. It is bad enough when they don't call, but it is worse when you were expecting, or dare I say, hoping they would.
So this is my point, that person we all know who sucks her teeth at the idea of a man fulfilling a promise, the girl who laughs sardonically when we are told that the redundancies are for the good of the company and the woman who rolls her eyes at the idea of the Boss being our friend; it is all too easy to write them off as a Bitch. I put it to you to wonder why? Life is hard, and London is harder, there is too much ego crammed within these grey walls. Most people have a long and hard day, underpaid and overworked at a job they could lose any minute, negotiating failing transport systems to get there in the first place. Couple this with a failing economy, knife crime increases, an everyday risk of cancer and stress levels are already high.
If London Life is hard, you’re already screwed if you are trying to maintain a London Love Life. Blood pressure and fatigue are already at dangerous levels, and you have trekked home just in time to receive a text message, "sorry, but..." Yeah, yeah you’re sorry, you didn't mean to sleep with me and never call, you didn't mean to flirt with me and then retract it all cause you sobered up and remembered your girlfriend, yeah, yeah, you didn't mean to. (You see? and I'm not surprised.)
In conclusion, I implore you instead of hissing bitch at the woman who cuts you up in order to jump on a tube, or the girl who is rude in a bar, think to yourself about what I have said and look for the pain behind the mask. Think about the last time you were rude to someone because your Boss was being an arse, or the last time you snarled at a passerby because you preoccupied with thoughts of what went wrong with that guy.
Bitch? Think again.
You see, 2008 was a hard year, in many ways, and as a result I find in 2009 I am not the same person I was. I, in no way think of this as a bad thing as a person should grow from year to year and learning from one's experiences and mistakes are the best methods for this. I am now far less trusting than I used to be, I am inclined to think the worst of people and I find cynicism comes quite naturally to me. When people object I say that I prefer to think this way as it lends to a life that is full of pleasant surprises instead of constant disappointment, but this is not entirely true. Yes, it is nicer to be surprised but that is not why I am cynical, I am cynical because that is what life has taught me, and I am nothing if not a good student. I'm sure I would be a much pleasanter person to have around if I smiled sweetly and was gaily optimistic about every man that asked for my number, or if I blithely trusted my employers to look out for my best interests, but, alas, I find that behaving in such a manner is not only stupid but unnecessarily painful. I salute those who have the energy and stamina to bounce back after very knock, but that, my friends is not moi. It is bad enough when they don't call, but it is worse when you were expecting, or dare I say, hoping they would.
So this is my point, that person we all know who sucks her teeth at the idea of a man fulfilling a promise, the girl who laughs sardonically when we are told that the redundancies are for the good of the company and the woman who rolls her eyes at the idea of the Boss being our friend; it is all too easy to write them off as a Bitch. I put it to you to wonder why? Life is hard, and London is harder, there is too much ego crammed within these grey walls. Most people have a long and hard day, underpaid and overworked at a job they could lose any minute, negotiating failing transport systems to get there in the first place. Couple this with a failing economy, knife crime increases, an everyday risk of cancer and stress levels are already high.
If London Life is hard, you’re already screwed if you are trying to maintain a London Love Life. Blood pressure and fatigue are already at dangerous levels, and you have trekked home just in time to receive a text message, "sorry, but..." Yeah, yeah you’re sorry, you didn't mean to sleep with me and never call, you didn't mean to flirt with me and then retract it all cause you sobered up and remembered your girlfriend, yeah, yeah, you didn't mean to. (You see? and I'm not surprised.)
In conclusion, I implore you instead of hissing bitch at the woman who cuts you up in order to jump on a tube, or the girl who is rude in a bar, think to yourself about what I have said and look for the pain behind the mask. Think about the last time you were rude to someone because your Boss was being an arse, or the last time you snarled at a passerby because you preoccupied with thoughts of what went wrong with that guy.
Bitch? Think again.
Monday, 26 January 2009
Things I have learnt during my short time living
1) You will never be more beautiful than you are as god intended, so fucking around with creams, colours, chemicals and other crap will not make any difference.
Don’t get me wrong, a bit of blush and some mascara can enhance your face, but painting out all the colour only to paint it back on over top is pointless and ultimately a mask more than makeup. Sure, cover up a spot, who wouldn’t? Don’t cover up your face; you might as well be a Geisha. Its insecurity plain and simple, it would be easier to wear a veil, the most amazing thing to me is when someone will wake up fresh faced and grimaces at the mirror, they will then spend 20 minutes painting on concealer, foundation, powder ,bronzer, blusher and not look any different. The real tragedy here is that they can’t see that they were beautiful before.
2) Men are all the same, no matter how keen they are at the beginning, once they get what they want, you won’t see them for dust.
You can have as many rules as you like, as many conditions, the fact is that During the 1700’s a man called Casanova showed men that they can behave like animals and be admired for it; oh, and how they learned. They are now adept at our tricks, they will text everyday, they will tell us that we are beautiful/stunning/gorgeous, and the experienced can even spin lines like ‘you make me feel something I haven’t felt in years’. Then once they have got you in bed it will change, they will become distant, or generate ‘issues’ until they have wriggled free and we are left as used and discarded as the condom from the night before.
3) Being attractive does not make dating any easier, if anything, it makes it harder.
I have often queried my lack of luck with men and have come up with the following disappointing reasons.
My standards are too high – um, standards? As someone who has a disappointing love life at best, when a guy takes the trouble to ask me out, I am inclined to give him a chance at bat. I may not go on a second date, but I would accept a first. So this I don’t believe, it’s not like I am turning down offers.
I intimidate them - I ask you, how silly is that? Suffering from a shyness at times that can be quite incapacitating, I am fully sympathetic to the plights of men and the stigma that they should make the first move, but shyness is not something that most men suffer from. If nothing else it is beaten out of them during their school years. So shyness not withstanding, I have been told that most men will not approach beautiful women for fear of being rejected, it’s only the egoistical losers that will have a go and this is because they no longer fear rejection. For starters, I do not believe that I am that attractive as to inspire some awe inducing fear. I’m just a girl who scrubs up fairly well, so the idea that a man would look at me, like what he sees, but then think better of it, is frankly disheartening.
4) People in positions of power are not always deserving of it, you are just as likely to get a manager who is an idiot as you are one who is intelligent.
I think the less said about this the better, lets just say that during my time as a working woman I have noticed that my superiors haven’t always been what you would wish them to be. Some of them are lazy, judgmental, inexperienced and inept. Of course, their human as well though, aren’t they?
5) Experience counts, but not for everything.
I think one of the most important things people need to learn is that Pride is the enemy and that there isn’t always just the one way of doing things. You may have been doing something one way for a long time but that does not mean it is the only way, and if a fresh face comes along and wants to try another way, let them. People’s brains don’t always work in the same way so what seems logical to you might not be seen the same way by someone else, the worst thing you can do is close your mind and not listen to someone with less experience than you, they may be wrong, but you will never know until you listen.
I will update you further as my lesson's in life move forward. :)
Don’t get me wrong, a bit of blush and some mascara can enhance your face, but painting out all the colour only to paint it back on over top is pointless and ultimately a mask more than makeup. Sure, cover up a spot, who wouldn’t? Don’t cover up your face; you might as well be a Geisha. Its insecurity plain and simple, it would be easier to wear a veil, the most amazing thing to me is when someone will wake up fresh faced and grimaces at the mirror, they will then spend 20 minutes painting on concealer, foundation, powder ,bronzer, blusher and not look any different. The real tragedy here is that they can’t see that they were beautiful before.
2) Men are all the same, no matter how keen they are at the beginning, once they get what they want, you won’t see them for dust.
You can have as many rules as you like, as many conditions, the fact is that During the 1700’s a man called Casanova showed men that they can behave like animals and be admired for it; oh, and how they learned. They are now adept at our tricks, they will text everyday, they will tell us that we are beautiful/stunning/gorgeous, and the experienced can even spin lines like ‘you make me feel something I haven’t felt in years’. Then once they have got you in bed it will change, they will become distant, or generate ‘issues’ until they have wriggled free and we are left as used and discarded as the condom from the night before.
3) Being attractive does not make dating any easier, if anything, it makes it harder.
I have often queried my lack of luck with men and have come up with the following disappointing reasons.
My standards are too high – um, standards? As someone who has a disappointing love life at best, when a guy takes the trouble to ask me out, I am inclined to give him a chance at bat. I may not go on a second date, but I would accept a first. So this I don’t believe, it’s not like I am turning down offers.
I intimidate them - I ask you, how silly is that? Suffering from a shyness at times that can be quite incapacitating, I am fully sympathetic to the plights of men and the stigma that they should make the first move, but shyness is not something that most men suffer from. If nothing else it is beaten out of them during their school years. So shyness not withstanding, I have been told that most men will not approach beautiful women for fear of being rejected, it’s only the egoistical losers that will have a go and this is because they no longer fear rejection. For starters, I do not believe that I am that attractive as to inspire some awe inducing fear. I’m just a girl who scrubs up fairly well, so the idea that a man would look at me, like what he sees, but then think better of it, is frankly disheartening.
4) People in positions of power are not always deserving of it, you are just as likely to get a manager who is an idiot as you are one who is intelligent.
I think the less said about this the better, lets just say that during my time as a working woman I have noticed that my superiors haven’t always been what you would wish them to be. Some of them are lazy, judgmental, inexperienced and inept. Of course, their human as well though, aren’t they?
5) Experience counts, but not for everything.
I think one of the most important things people need to learn is that Pride is the enemy and that there isn’t always just the one way of doing things. You may have been doing something one way for a long time but that does not mean it is the only way, and if a fresh face comes along and wants to try another way, let them. People’s brains don’t always work in the same way so what seems logical to you might not be seen the same way by someone else, the worst thing you can do is close your mind and not listen to someone with less experience than you, they may be wrong, but you will never know until you listen.
I will update you further as my lesson's in life move forward. :)
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
Dreams
Just in case there were any residual doubts about me being a normal person, I can now tell you with a large degree of certainty that ship has definitely sailed.
For the last two nights in a row I have woken up at some ungodly hour in the morning having had a nightmare. Yeah, Yeah, 22 going on 6... The most unsettling part of the experience, I feel, is trying to put together the slipping shards of the night before and coming to the sad conclusion that I am cracking up! Losing my marbles! A few ants short a picnic!
Let’s examine together, shall we?
Monday Night - I am living by myself in some sort of seaside village with my three children, two very large black boys and a little girl, who is white. (I can feel you warming up your psychoanalysis already.) Anyway, the beginning of the dream is kind of hazy, but some how my oldest son goes away, I think he is either murdered or commits murder and is put away, either way it ends up being just the three of us. Unfortunately my two children do not get on; in fact I begin to fear my little girl may be in danger from my remaining son. So I make the decision that my son would remain living in the village while I took the little girl off with me to live on a boat, the deal being that I would abandon her in exactly 8 years time to come back and live with my son. So for the first part of the dream I am happily bobbing along on some house boat type thing with a small child that doesn't age the whole time. She stays about 5 years old the whole 8 years, strange huh? Anyway thing start to go wrong when the 8 years are up, and being the dutiful mother I am, I promptly abandon the little girl, leaving her on the boat and swim to the village, I literally jump off the side while she is asleep. In the mean time my son has grown into a monster of a man, towering above me, a great hulking figure. The problem is my daughter is a tenacious little thing, and somehow ends up at the village too and is looking for me; she turns up at our house. My son, thinking i have rescinded on the deal goes crazy, and once again I am afraid for my little girl. So we escape, touching this sudden emotion I have for the child I abandoned, and get back on the boat. Clearly I am just thinking that I am safe when my son turns up on the boat, there is a struggle and all three of us end up over board. We are all swimming towards the boat when my son goes for my daughter again, impeding her in the water. I, in order to let her get free, begin to struggle with him, and am holding him under the water....
... Then I wake up! To be clear, i don't think I killed my son, because in my dreams I can never kill the bad guy, they just keep coming. The things I notice from this?
1) I am a terrible parent
2) I am a slut, because there were at least two different fathers
3) The irony that the man grows up but the little girl doesn't.
4) Although I briefly abandon the little girl I always choose her in the end.
Tuesday Night - Please note first of all, that I actually am in a Pantomime called Dick Whittington at the moment. Ok, so a friend picks me up and first we go for breakfast, I am late for rehearsals apparently, but we still have time for breakfast in some sort of cafe. During the breakfast I am informed that we are doing rehearsals in a new place today, and sure enough when we leave, we rock up to what can only be described as a church. Although upon reflecting on this I am told it is not a church, but it sure does look like one. This is when the tone of the dream changes, we are all attacked during rehearsals by a huge, bright green pterodactyl. He is also in little trousers. Now this may strike you as weird but I have since realised where this little character of my subconscious comes from, I am ashamed to admit he bears a striking resemblance to an X-Men character which I used to watch when I was younger. It's funny what you can have buried in the back of your head isn't it? In case anyone cares I have found a picture of him for your amusement. Anyway, for the next part of the dream I spend a terrifying time watching members of the cast get eaten by this thing, and in true nightmare style I spend a lot of time running and hiding although never actually getting anywhere. I also spend a lot of time re-jigging the script so that we can continue the pantomime even though cast members are being brutally murdered... as you do... As the dream comes to its climax, basically the show is close to being abandoned because there are so few of us left and I find myself at the mercy of the beast with nowhere to run to. So I ask the creature, who thank God speaks English, why he is doing this, and am informed that he doesn't not like the pantomime Dick Whittington because in the end (in the dream version) a large beast is killed and he finds it offensive. I offer to do Cinderella instead, and the situation is resolved. Some point after that I wake up. The End!
Things I have noticed:
1) I spend far too many years in my youth watching dodgy marvel cartoons.
2) I am a complete coward as not once did I try to help anyone else.
3) In my dreams the story of Dick Whittington is completely different to that of it in real life.
4) Even my monsters have some sort of self righteous cause.
So as you can see, I am going completely bonkers…any minute now I am going to fly into some lack of sleep induced rage and require masses of therapy. Ah well…
For the last two nights in a row I have woken up at some ungodly hour in the morning having had a nightmare. Yeah, Yeah, 22 going on 6... The most unsettling part of the experience, I feel, is trying to put together the slipping shards of the night before and coming to the sad conclusion that I am cracking up! Losing my marbles! A few ants short a picnic!
Let’s examine together, shall we?
Monday Night - I am living by myself in some sort of seaside village with my three children, two very large black boys and a little girl, who is white. (I can feel you warming up your psychoanalysis already.) Anyway, the beginning of the dream is kind of hazy, but some how my oldest son goes away, I think he is either murdered or commits murder and is put away, either way it ends up being just the three of us. Unfortunately my two children do not get on; in fact I begin to fear my little girl may be in danger from my remaining son. So I make the decision that my son would remain living in the village while I took the little girl off with me to live on a boat, the deal being that I would abandon her in exactly 8 years time to come back and live with my son. So for the first part of the dream I am happily bobbing along on some house boat type thing with a small child that doesn't age the whole time. She stays about 5 years old the whole 8 years, strange huh? Anyway thing start to go wrong when the 8 years are up, and being the dutiful mother I am, I promptly abandon the little girl, leaving her on the boat and swim to the village, I literally jump off the side while she is asleep. In the mean time my son has grown into a monster of a man, towering above me, a great hulking figure. The problem is my daughter is a tenacious little thing, and somehow ends up at the village too and is looking for me; she turns up at our house. My son, thinking i have rescinded on the deal goes crazy, and once again I am afraid for my little girl. So we escape, touching this sudden emotion I have for the child I abandoned, and get back on the boat. Clearly I am just thinking that I am safe when my son turns up on the boat, there is a struggle and all three of us end up over board. We are all swimming towards the boat when my son goes for my daughter again, impeding her in the water. I, in order to let her get free, begin to struggle with him, and am holding him under the water....
... Then I wake up! To be clear, i don't think I killed my son, because in my dreams I can never kill the bad guy, they just keep coming. The things I notice from this?
1) I am a terrible parent
2) I am a slut, because there were at least two different fathers
3) The irony that the man grows up but the little girl doesn't.
4) Although I briefly abandon the little girl I always choose her in the end.
Tuesday Night - Please note first of all, that I actually am in a Pantomime called Dick Whittington at the moment. Ok, so a friend picks me up and first we go for breakfast, I am late for rehearsals apparently, but we still have time for breakfast in some sort of cafe. During the breakfast I am informed that we are doing rehearsals in a new place today, and sure enough when we leave, we rock up to what can only be described as a church. Although upon reflecting on this I am told it is not a church, but it sure does look like one. This is when the tone of the dream changes, we are all attacked during rehearsals by a huge, bright green pterodactyl. He is also in little trousers. Now this may strike you as weird but I have since realised where this little character of my subconscious comes from, I am ashamed to admit he bears a striking resemblance to an X-Men character which I used to watch when I was younger. It's funny what you can have buried in the back of your head isn't it? In case anyone cares I have found a picture of him for your amusement. Anyway, for the next part of the dream I spend a terrifying time watching members of the cast get eaten by this thing, and in true nightmare style I spend a lot of time running and hiding although never actually getting anywhere. I also spend a lot of time re-jigging the script so that we can continue the pantomime even though cast members are being brutally murdered... as you do... As the dream comes to its climax, basically the show is close to being abandoned because there are so few of us left and I find myself at the mercy of the beast with nowhere to run to. So I ask the creature, who thank God speaks English, why he is doing this, and am informed that he doesn't not like the pantomime Dick Whittington because in the end (in the dream version) a large beast is killed and he finds it offensive. I offer to do Cinderella instead, and the situation is resolved. Some point after that I wake up. The End!
Things I have noticed:
1) I spend far too many years in my youth watching dodgy marvel cartoons.
2) I am a complete coward as not once did I try to help anyone else.
3) In my dreams the story of Dick Whittington is completely different to that of it in real life.
4) Even my monsters have some sort of self righteous cause.
So as you can see, I am going completely bonkers…any minute now I am going to fly into some lack of sleep induced rage and require masses of therapy. Ah well…
Tuesday, 20 January 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
