I’ll Tell You Another Odd Thing

My father was procrastinating at work earlier (now he definitely can’t talk when I’m prevaricating myself) and googled my blog, and found me. A) I’ve googled myself in the past and not found this blog, no matter what I put into google, and B) I don’t know how I feel about him finding this blog. It’s not like I say anything on it that I don’t want him to see, but but I want to be able to write things up here which I don’t have to think about too much. I don’t want to be too self-censoring. At the  moment the only restrictions on what I write are basically that I don’t let slip where I live or the names of people I mention, and I don’t say anything about other people that they might not want to read up here, if I think there’s any chance they will read this blog, and if I genuinely care about their opinion and don’t want to hurt them. No strict rules as such, just basic tact and the vague hope of remaining reasonably anonymous. But if I were to try drugs or get hideously drunk or take up smoking again or otherwise go in for a bit of good old old-fashioned teenage rebellion (I’ve only got about seven weeks to do the teenage rebellion thing before I stop being a teenager, so watch this space…!) and I felt it was blogworthy, I’d put it up here. Meanwhile I wouldn’t want my father to read all the grisly details of the stupid things I do merely because there are certain things you don’t want to imagine your daughter doing, which is fair enough.

The thing is, though, thinking about it, this blog is pretty parent-safe, in fact it’s pretty safe for pretty much anyone to read apart from my tendency to swear unnecessarily, so why this has got me in a bit of a pickle I honestly don’t know. Perhaps this is just one of those days where everything’s a bit of a pickle. My body has taken me entirely by surprise (feel free to guess, I merely promise that I am neither ill nor pregnant); my room is out to confuse, upset and murder me, and possibly drive me to tears along the way; I am jobless and being messed about no end by the people who were going to employ me (a screw-up for which I blame my previous employers, and probably the subject of a later rant); I’ve spent the last goodness-knows-how-long trying to organise my friends into picking dates for our group holiday which mean that I can also go on holiday with my parents and that’s been driving me slowly mad but seems to finally have worked itself out, although there are a number of people to whom the less charitable half of me would like to do various incomprehensibly painful things; and I’ve been trying to organise various other social occasions and just wishing I could somehow invent some kind of social-organiser-type-intention-craft, such that I merely have to think, ‘it would be nice if on such a day, this set of people all spontaneously decided to show up in the same place for a few drinks and some food’, and lo and behold, abracadabra, there you go, none of this shilly-shallying and excuses and giving out directions for all and sundry and panicking about who can and cannot come and is this or that person going to feel awkward or get bored and so on; so yes, perhaps it’s just me, but life at the moment seems a bit chaotic, I can’t keep track of anyone and anything else, and yet somehow I’m the one that seems to have to do so.

Anyway, I know it’s only 4pm, but I would quite like a bit of a doze, so that is what I am going to do now.



Filed under Family, Friendship, Happenings, Internet, Life, Relationships, Sex, Society, Thoughts

4 responses to “I’ll Tell You Another Odd Thing

  1. ruethewhirl

    the reason it might be getting you into a bit of a pickle is this: i was out with a few friends recently, and one of them mentioned that she’d read my blog and that she had read the recent entry about there being a group of people i liked, but only three or four who i absolutlely loved. she just mentioned that she’d read it, not that she was trying to guess who was who and so forth. but still, it came as a bit of a shock to find that people actually found it and read it and that it reflected back into real life. so eventually i actually took down the link to my blog from my facebook page, because i’m nowhere near as discrete as you are.

    a blog, like a diary, is a form of catharsis. it’s well known that writing stuff down helps you clear your head and consolidate a position on things, which is why the only two types of blogs on the internet are personal blogs and political blogs – they’re either inward looking, or focused on an absolute entity like politics or the enviroment. hence, when you’re writing a personal blog, you’re arranging your thoughts on digital paper, inward looking while outward typing. it’s like standing on the edge of a cliff, whispering or screaming your thoughts into the abyss – no-one can hear you, but you feel better for saying it.

    so when something brings that into the real world, it can be quite a jolt. i know we all read each others blogs, but we’re quite a small community. whenever the barrier of secrecy between parent and child is broken too, that can be quite shocking. especially when they turn out to have known all along. ho hum.

    i will write more soon, honest. now, maybe. xxx

  2. ruethewhirl

    oh, by the way, some music for you to spotifind: Django Reinhardt (Parisian cafe-jazz from the forties and fifties), Imelda May (modern rockabilly stuff), Olafur Arnalds (icelandic piano/strings beautifulness), and Amon Tobin (listen to the Splinter Cell soundtrack first as a sort of introduction – jazzy jungly dubsteppy goodness)

  3. standingonthebrink

    You make a lot of good points. I’m always half tempted to take down the link to my blog from my facebook page. I don’t know. Weirdly I keep both a journal and a blog – but then, to be fair, my journal is totally different from my blog and I try no matter what to be scrupulously honest with my journal. The really weird thing is it’s kind of hard even to be wholly honest in one’s diary, which is surely the Entire Point Of Writing The Fucking THing.

    I think my parents probably do know pretty much everything that I do, but then I guess I’m not particularly shocking as a person. I don’t do anything illegal, or to excess, and I think my parents are happy to assume things about me and then pack them away in the back of their minds and just not think too hard about what I get up to.

    I really, really should get spotify. Hang on. I shall do that right this minute. I should be hanging up clothes.

    And yes, WRITE MORE.

  4. Adam

    You can get here via your twitter page… that’s probably the way your pater found you…

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