Respite. Me style.

Over the last few days I've done some serious blogs. So, to lighten the mood, some "comedy".

Middle lane drivers eh? Grrr (shakes fist). Women parking? Grrrr (fist is tired from the previous shaking so I merely imply a shake. Like an old man at a urinal. Buh-dum ch)! My mother in law is so fat she was the before picture on the Subway commercial (I genuinely just made that up!). It's funny because i haven't got a mother in law.

It is from true pain and suffering that we derive our beauty. History bears this out. I'm obviously not referring to the above nonsense but lets see how this comes out. The obvious place to start is Wlfred Owen, Siegfried Sasson and the other great war poets. Classical music also supports this - the great works of Smetana (Ma Vlast), Weber and Wagner have all come from times of strife in their homelands whereas others use personal grief to help express themselves. Van Gogh is well know to have suffered, and, more contemporarily, we have the genius of Winehouse, Kobain, George Best and Zippy (who, as we all know, spunked a fortune on hookers and killed himself by having a particularly hot wash and forgetting to go in the tumble drier).

We all choose our place of solace. I find mine in a certain part of my head. A place where I can hide from the scary unicorns and piercing rainbows.Somewhere I am free to consider the possibility of bad grammar, dirty looks and anal fisting. Without the pain we cannot have the respite. Without the tears we cannot have our eyes opened again. Without the respite we cannot have the beauty. You will agree with this as soon as you stop reading and you think "thank fuck that's over".

One day all of our worlds will end and it is with hope that the world is a little better for me having left it.    

Again with this shit... The song to which I refer is "There's a fine, fine line" from Avenue Q

I hope I can find the strength to make this my last contact with you. 

I wanted to share a song with you that I've probably shared with you before. Some bits are about you and some about me. I'll leave you to decide which is which.

All I ever ask is please don't hate me. I think the main reason you don't want to be with me is that I'm just a scared child. 

Another new post that was an email to a (now) ex g/f

Hi (babe/s doesn't really sound appropriate right now)

I apologise in advance for the excessive use of parenthisis, commas, colons, dashes etc.

I also apologise for the fact I am writing this to you knowing it will be posted on my blog. It is my hope and wish that it might make a couple of blokes at Capita go "Huhhh, yeah he's right there".

I wanted to give you a final email to sum up and give my take (/commentary) on what we've been through.

You are amazing. I love you and everyone who reads my blog or has spoken to me in the last few months (especially Scott and Milo) knows this is the case. To this day this fact has not changed. General constructs of language dictates I should put a "but.." in there but I will not. I love you. You speak to me in a way that I can appreciate and respect. I truly apologise If I ever come across as if I'm speaking down to you (I asked you to give me examples which, I understand, is an example of me speaking down to you!!!) but I speak to you as an equal. You are by far and away the most intelligent g/f I have ever had.

we have had some hard times (very) recently. I'll sum it up slightly different than before. You loved me. Your crime was that you loved me. I don't know how you feel now. The punishment for your crime was that you had to be with me. You wanted to know everything about me? I told you. I started by talking about Luke and the reasons I cannot see him. I went on to my parents and have gone on to answer any question you have (and many you didn't ask).

I went on to meet you (yes, this IS the timeline!) and fell so head-over-heels in love with you that, at the weekend I asked you to marry me. I can guarantee you didn't expect it because I didn't expect it!

In the few months we spent together I got to know and love your kids. Jake's beautiful cheekiness, Olly's innocence and caring, Zach's leadership and Beth's strength of character. I have tried to guide them the right way and you, to your credit, accepted my help.

You said Yes. All my christmasses and birthdays had come at once. I even phoned your dad to ask his permission! If you ask ANY of my exes they will tell you that's not the kind of thing I do! Really!

The last few days have been hell. After a couple of days of you ignoring me (pretty much) and a few days without sleep and feeling as bad as I ever have I sent you a suicide note. I thought it was the, erm, polite thing to do. But that's not how you took it.  

You decided to go on the offensive. Fine. That's up to you. You left me. Again, your right and privilege. I suppose the whole reason for this post is this question. Is the only reason for you leaving me the fact that I opened up with a suicide note?

This is probably too personal...

I've done this  on my other blog and have found it saves time. Below is an email I sent to my g/f that says pretty much what I wanted to post here. Anyone who can tell me where my quote was from receives a prize. The prize is a round of applause that you won't hear:

Hi babe,

First things first.This is probably going to be a looooong email but at no point will it be, or is intended to be, a "Dear John" letter. Just me putting random thoughts on "paper".

Second things second. I love you. Nothing will ever change that.

It's tough to know where to start. But that is simply because I'm sending you this for no actual reason other than me being bored, frustrated, tired etc.

So let's start with something easy and nice. A simple (rhetorical) question - Do you have any idea how much I loved the kisses we shared on Monday morning? I felt the full softness and beauty of your face and your lips. Whatever happens in the future (and I have no reason to think it would be anything bad) I will never regret asking you to marry me. You are more perfect than you will ever realise. It would be an honour and a privilege to be able to call you my wife.

Something maybe less nice. But very honest.

Monday morning I spent at least half of the train journey in tears. I have no idea why. Maybe because I was listening to the emotional songs of avenue q. Maybe because I missed you. Maybe because life is very hard for me right now. Probably a combination of the three. In what has become my emotional state for the last couple of days ( exacerbated by my lack of sleep) I have managed to overreact to you not speaking to me (n.b. I'm still not sure I did overreact but when I look at myself from  the outside I see that it may be the case).

I've been thinking about suicide a lot. I'm not even going to try to lie about it. I have enough paracetmol in my bedroom to floor a Rhinoceros. I don't think I will go anywhere near it, though. I know that your love will see me through. "I have known what it is to have the love of a good woman." 

Life is hard right now. I don't know how to deal with it. I wouldn't think any less of you if you didn't want to deal with it. But, and this is probably the sub-conscious reason for this email, do you truly want to spend the rest of your life with me?

Life is hard right now but most people have been amazing. My self-loathing insists that my colleagues resent me and my friends think less of me. The bitchslap is that the only people I have in my life are my colleagues and friends. Yet I feel like I am pushing them all away. Sigh.

I just need love. Or biscuits.

Blogging = Jogging = Internet Dating = Working

"If you don't gosub a program loop you'll never get a sub-routine".

Howdy doodily doo.

The admirable Kryten probably didn't know quite how accurate the mechanoid erm, race, were with this saying. In sum, I suppose it translates as "Nothing ventured, nothing gained" and to take it further "It is better to die on your feet than live on your knees".

Ok. Enough of the Red Dwarf quotes (there are much better ones but these are currently apt).

I should probably give the synergies between them and then explain. Or not explain.

They are all visceral, soul destroying processes

They all provide a need to look at things a bit differently

They all require enough input to make it worthwhile

They are all areas I have l found recent comfort

They all make me ache the next day

Let me say Internet dating (or “dating” as its probably known these days) has been a massive confidence booster for me. A person who, at the moment, deserves to remain nameless (I owe it to her to preserve her confidentiality), has restored my confidence in the female-woman gender. 

Running has made me a stronger person (in many ways). 

Blogging has helped me formulate thoughts and words ‘n tha’ that probably makes me an insufferable person to talk to. I’ve enjoyed it so much I have started a sister-blog which is actually more of a forum. I’m not going to tell you about it yet. Need to wait a bit until I’m confident enough to show it to actual people I may know. It’s very popular, though.  Right now 96 views in less than 24 hours.

What I have learned over the last 6 months and few years is that it is never too late. Just get involved.

Would anyone like any toast?

GRRRRRRRRRR

Ho hum. Internet Dating seems to be synonymous with Bi-polar disorder. Yes. Like the idiot that I am I have signed up for something or other. My first experience was greeted with a massively harsh rejection. From a conversation that she pretty much started I was rejected because I asked if she "wanted to chat".

Mental.

Oh well. All good fodder for the blog, I suppose.

And the nonsense continues....

Could this BE any more of a Bazinga

"On a long enough timeline the survival rate for everyone drops to zero". This is also apparently true of sitcoms.

When The Big Bang Theory started it was considered (by me, at least) to be a quite niche and hilarious comedy. Its appeal came from an inventive and almost unique array of characters, interactions and comedy that you felt that only you and a few others were privy to. The personal feeling was, of course, not true and it soon  became apparent when it became a global hit.

The curse-phrase for any t.v show is "Jumping the Shark" (after The Fonz in Happy Days highlighted the shows' nadir by literally jumping a shark). It seems ironic and counter-intuitive that a successful show has stumbled upon this by morphing into one of the most successful shows ever. Friends.

OK. I get it. All tv shows, especially in the U.S. are basically a punt and when they become profitable (usually around the 100 episode mark) they kick back and relax. But it seems that the TBBT staff got to this point and started to crap themselves. Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady turned into David Crane and Marta Kaufman.

I have evidence.

In no particular order:

In one episode, Howard becomes more effeminate due to an Oestrogen cream and gets offended at the assumption he is "male". This is mirrored by Chandler's use of subliminal tapes to help him quit smoking. What he was actually was listening to was a tape telling him to be a "...strong, confident woman".

In another, Penny pulls out a box of meaningless crap which demonstrates how romantic she actually is. When Ross and Rachel had one of their big splits guess what happens, Rachel pulls out a box of meaningless crap that proves she's romantic.

In the latest shocker Penny finds out she is actually inadvertently married and needs to get it annulled. Sound familar? Ross? Rachel? Vegas?

I have tonnes more but you get the point. Jumping the Shark is synonymous with breaking even. As soon as the producers realise they have something to lose they lose all sense of identity and start pandering to "what the public want". A show, secure in its cult status gets handed a ticket to the Premier League and bottles it on arrival.  

I've wanted to make this post for a while but, after Thursday's episode, The Thanksgiving Decoupling, I felt something needed to be said.

Not annoyed, TBBT, just disappointed (and that's the worst of all).

I'd like to say I had to research any part of this post but, unfortunately, its just in my head. 10, 15 years on.