...Think, Think, Think...

Any Red Dward Fans in the House?

I'm a bit of a fan.  Of the first 5 series anyway, it went a bit rubbish after that.

My blog post stems from a thought I had whilst watching an episode called Dimension Jump from series 4.

In this episode, we see Ace Rimmer for the first time.   He's another version of Arnold Rimmer from a parallel dimension.  

The theory they were toying with was that for every decision you make, every outcome is lived out in different dimensions.  It got me wondering about all the what-ifs in my life.

Of course, I can't change the past but I do wonder where I'd be now if I'd made different choices.  I guess we all wonder that sometimes.

It made me hope that in one of those dimensions, that one of the Me's had made all the perfect choices and was really happy.  I'm a bit envious of this parallel me.  She'd have all the good qualities that I don't - patience and compassion and tolerance.  She might be slower to wound than I am.  But maybe less clever, or not as funny.  More girly or sporty or placid.

But then it sort of dawns on me...I could be that parallel me couldn't I?  Couldn't I?

My dad was cleaning out some cupboards recently and found one of my school reports.  My teacher from June 1992 said this:

Beth is a confident, friendly girl who always tries her best in school.  She has a mature attitude to work and is self-motivated and independent.  She could profitably work on her attitude towards less able members of the class in order to achieve a more supportive rather than judgemental attitude.  She has made steady and pleasing progress this year.

That was 1992.  Almost 18 years ago.  I was 10.

My dad thought it was hilarious, as did my line manager and the owner of the company I work for.

Do you know why?  Because take the word "school" out of there and replace it with "work" and "class" with "the office" and  literally NOTHING has changed.  

At school it was the less able people.  In grown-up life, its the less driven, less passionate, less responsible people I struggle with. People who can't apologise for mistakes but give you a laundry list of excuses.  People who don't give it 100%.  Seriously, go big or go home.  If you want a job you don't give a fuck about do not work in a sales organisation people.  Tesco's are usually hiring and I hear the checkout isn't that strenuous.

So yeah.  Maybe I could change.  Or maybe its just who I am.  Who I'm meant to be.

And I shouldn't fucking apologise for that.

People Watching - The Gym

I (re)joined the gym recently.

I'm actually going too.  Makes a change, I'd joined the same gym three times previously in the last 10 years but hadn't managed to stick at going.  In fact, I have gone more in the two weeks since I joined this time than I did in the six months I was a member two years ago.  The place is the same, I suppose I am different.

Different because at 28, it seems that the combination of not walking to work, having delicious two (or three) course lunches whilst out at work and then eating a proper meal in the evening and a newly developed taste for alcohol that I didn't have in my early twenties means that at the beginning of the year, I was ten pounds lighter than I am now.  Different because I now struggle to fit into at least four of the suits I got earlier in the year.

There are TV's built into the treadmills and there is a pool with 4 types of jacuzzi, 3 types of steam room and a sauna to motivate me to get through.

I have also noticed that the gym is a fascinating place to people watch.  It seems that people are split into groups.

I should say to begin with that there are quite a lot of totally normal people at the gym.  People who have been going for years, who turn up, do their workout and go home.  They're friendly and knowledgeable and helpful.  These are the people who go to the gym because they enjoy it.  Which is weird, but not as weird as some of the groups I'm about to get to.

Then you have people like me.  The people who are there because they have to be to try and resolve some weight/health/fitness issue.  We all look much the same.  We have our shiny new gym kit, our shiny new mp3 player and are keeping our heads down.  We do not want to make eye contact and we certainly do not want to chat.

Next up, you have the Mums who appear to go to the gym as a social activity.  They tend to travel in pairs and go on machines next to each other.  They don't push themselves exceptionally hard and spend the entire time they are there talking about their kids or their husbands.  They occasionally break from this to bitch about the mother's of their childrens' classmates.

After that, you've got the teenage girls. These, generally don't need to go to the gym and look as though they exist on approximately ten calories per day.  They also travel in pairs, tend to either wear far too little (tiny shorts, bra tops etc) or totally inappropriate clothing (deck shoes do not equal trainers) and also like to have giggly chats with the meatheads.  A typical move for this group is to be on an exercise bike close to the free weight section, cycling upright with their hands on their hips to ensure that everyone sees them. 

Speaking of the meatheads.  I find these the most fascinating.  Groups of men, perhaps "packs" is a better word.  They don't do any cardio, they spend their time by the free weights.  They have horrendous technique. You're supposed to lift weights in a slow, controlled manner.  You are not supposed to fling dumbbells around in the air.  It is stupid and you risk injuring not only yourself, but other people around you too.  They also do not use the mirror for technique (which is what it's there for).  They use it to pose.  They swear like builders and fall into two age groups - late teens and scrawny with a bit of muscle and mid to late thirties who wish they were powerlifters, act like they are power lifters but as someone who actually works for a company that sponsors weight lifters I know that they are so very not.  

Finally, the last group I want to discuss I like to call the "Gym Weirdos".  These are the people who do not understand gym etiquette or generally behave oddly.  Note, this applies to men more than women.  For example, if you go into the gym and want to go on the treadmill, you look around and see where the free treadmills are.  At my gym, they are pretty spread out.  If there are a lot of spare treadmills you DO NOT get on one next to someone else.  It is just not done.  It is creepy.   Also, if you are wandering around with your t-shirt tucked into your tracksuit bottoms, doing two reps on a machine or standing around watching people intently, you are also a gym weirdo.  Likewise, if you are 50+ and wear speedos to the pool, pulled up like an 80's high-leg swimsuit, you fall into this category.  It is horrendous.  Don't.  We don't want to see that.  Ever.  

One other group I'd like to mention in closing are those women in the changing rooms.  You know the ones.  The pre/menopausal women who are at a point in their lives where they are totally comfortable with their bodies and you know that's great.  Really.  We all strive to that level of self-confidence.  The thing is, I'M not comfortable with your body.  Especially not if you are trying to have a conversation with me.  Seriously.  Put a towel on.  Please. Don't just sit there.  I don't want to be reminded that this is the level of sagging I can expect in 20 years time.  

So yeah.  I'm going to the gym three times a week.  It's hard and I'm not really seeing major results but that's because I'm not pushing myself too hard.  I know that if I try to do too much, I'll hate it and quit.  At the moment walking for an hour at 5-6k/h on the treadmill then a splash in the pool suits me fine and once it becomes easier I'll up it a little to 6/7k/hour.  Then who knows.  Maybe I'll run.

But not for a while.

B'bye 2009

I didn't really enjoy 2009.  Yeah, there were some good things that happened but overall it was a bitch.

Shame really, as I started it so optimistically.  It was going to be MY year, I was going to have a great one.

I didn't.  At least it feels like I didn't.

In January:

• My best friend and his partner took me wine tasting for my birthday.  I learned the proper way to get pissed on wine.
• I saw a burlesque/circus act where a woman pulled a hankie from out of "there" as a magic trick and another deep-throated the leg of a bar stool.
• I had a terrible birthday itself (got locked out in the rain, had to cook my own dinner).
• I fell on an incy pavement and hacked my knee to shreds (still have the scar).

In February:

• Someone tested the water to see if I'd be up for a threesome.
• I was a mere micron away from flashing someone in the pool at the gym.
• I got promoted.

In March:

• I felt stuck in a rut (kind of a theme for the year).
• I asked everyone to tell me their favourite quotes (then put them in a word doc and didn't put them into a book like I meant to).
• I got a funny phonecall.

In April:

• It was suggested I swear too much. (Fuck, no!)
• Someone looked at my blog in search of mother/daughter relationship advice (wrong blog, sistah!).

In May:

• I started to get reeeeeaally unhappy at work.
• I had a brief existential crisis.
• When asked to name an intelligent person who didn't exercise, I came up with Prof. Stephen Hawking.
• I entered a pub quiz on a team called "quiz on my face" (and I'm still laughing).

In June:

• I thought I was out of the rut (wasn't.  so wasn't).
• I lost one of my best friends because I guess he had to make a life choice.  I'm just sad that a compromise couldn't be reached.

In July:

• I got the goose flu and spent 10 days sounding like Marge Simpson.
• My mother dramatically damaged Anglo-Norwegian relations.
• I got my own domain.
• I got a crush on Danny Dyer (oh, the shame).

In August:

• I did a quiz so you could all learn more about me.
• I got annoyed with the neighbours and their screaming kids.
• I apologised for whining so much.
• I identified some things that really piss me off.
• I got ID'd in Waitrose buying posh fruit cider and dinner.
• Not blogged, but this is when stuff started to get really bad at work.  Like crying before I left the house bad.

In September:

• I shared some brief insight to what breakfast is like when I'm unhappy (hint: not healthy).
• I saw Danny Dyer in a play (he was 6 feet from me, if that).
• I experienced the pain of calf massage.

In October:

• Someone found my blog upon searching for "Young Person with Bags Under Eyes" - nice ego boost.
• I got free trainers from www.fitnessfootwear.com.
• I went on an unsuccessful clothes shopping fit and had someone imply I was fat.
• Not blogged, but my maternal grandmother (who I had no relationship with) died.

In November:

• Not blogged, I went to the funeral of my maternal grandmother.  It reminded me how friends are the family we choose for ourselves and made me wonder if I'd see any of the people there again.  It was a very weird experience all around. There were only 3 of us in the crematorium not really grieving.  I felt like I was trespassing.
• Not blogged, by now work was pretty much destroying me and I'd started work on my CV.
• I was in a minor car accident for which I totally blamed myself.
• I met fellow bloggers and saw a play called Poles Apart, which was a wonderful experience.
• I revamped the beauty blog again.

In December:

• My role at work completely changed, meaning that I do virtually no direct customer service work, am not responsible for a team and work directly for one person.  I couldn't be happier, its like starting afresh.  The extra nice thing about this was that the person I now work for specifically asked for me to be the one to help him and its all going really well.
• I struggled to find the enthusiasm to put up Christmas decorations.  In fact I struggled with enthusiasm for Christmas altogether.
• I got some sort of lurgie which the Doc initially said was eczema and forbade me from having bubbles or hot baths/showers.  Turns out, after a second visit to another Doc its Pityriasis Rosea which will eventually go by itself.  This means that I can't treat it and have returned to the world of hot bubbly baths and long, hot showers.
• I wished all of my wonderful readers a Merry Christmas.

So, a long recap there (check out the archives for the original posts).  It felt like such a long, stressful year and I was constantly run down and ill.  It seems that stress will do that to you.  

2010 will be different.  I'm not sure how, but it will.  Today I'll be tidying all my shit so that I'm starting the new year I'll at least be able to find things.

I hope you all have a fantastic time tonight, whatever you may do.

I'll see you on the other side!

Bx

How to look good...dressed

I have the opposite problem to the women on How To Look Good Naked.  I'd probably be Gok's worst nightmare.

I don't hate my body.  I'm not mortified at my own reflection or terrified by the sight of my own naked flesh.  The chances of me insisting that a partner turn the lights out before I strip off is practically zero.

Naked I'm fine with.  Lingerie?  Love it. Clothed though?  I'm not so good.

I went out this afternoon to have a look for some new work clothes.  I'm starting to feel that everything I have in my work wardrobe makes me look frumpy and much older than I really am.  What I'd like is to look stylish and pulled together when I'm at the office, not like I got dressed in the dark from a wardrobe belonging to a 50 year old RE Teacher.

I wandered around a few shops and found some lovely things.  None of them fit.  I found this little lovely, but they didn't have my size.  The size below was too tight and I'm sure the next size up would have just hung off me.  I may order my size off the website and see if its any better. 

I loathe shopping for clothes for this reason.  Either they don't have my size, or the sizing systems are so inconsistent that I end up hacked off by the faff of guessing if things will come up too big/too small and just give up.  I'm pleased to say that I don't usually come away from these ordeals feeling fat.  Generally I blame the shops for being incapable of picking a sizing system and everyone using the same one.  Today though, I do feel a bit rubbish.  Frumpy really.

People often ask me why my obsession lies with makeup and beauty.  Simple answer:  it ALWAYS fits.  Once you know your foundation shade, everything else is a breeze.    I don't ever try 5 different shades of lipstick to find that none of them are right and then leave 20 minutes later hot and flustered from being trapped in a cramped changing room.  Its not that kind of party. 

After putting myself through the ringer I gave up with the clothes shopping and made my way empty handed to Superdrug where I bought new shampoo, conditioner, a couple of styling products and a new mascara as a reward for not having a massive hissy fit about it all.

I was actually starting to feel a bit brighter until I went into McDonalds.  I ordered (large quarter pounder with cheese meal, with a chocolate milkshake) and the cashier went to put everything together.  While he's doing that, another guy comes over, looks at the till from which I've just been served and says, with eyebrows raised "large meal...". 

I understand its best not to be rude to people in the food service industry (for reasons best explained by the movie Waiting), so I just replied, "Yep".  In reality, I could have quite happily thrown my chocolate milkshake in his face, the twat.  I took my food and scurried home, seething more about that than about the lack of clothes-purchasing that I managed to do.

So, other than getting an extra hour in bed this morning today has not been one of my funnest days ever.  Not to worry though, I'm about to go and finish my milkshake and do my hair.  Naked probably. I think I look better that way.

A confession, a song and a quiz

So...I'm pleased to say that none of you immediately guessed my guilty pleasure from the list below (although one of my work colleagues looked through the DVDs when I was returning them and she got it right off the bat).  It's Danny Dyer.  I've never been one for a bit of rough, tending to prefer my men better dressed but emotionally unavailable.  Oh, hold on. The last bit wasn't a preference, just an unfortunate coincidence.  Still, I think he's pretty hot.

The song I couldn't remember but felt akin to was Every Day is Exactly The Same by Nine Inch Nails, which since its use in the film Wanted has probably become the theme song of every scorned office worker secretly wishing they could be an assassin. And even the ones that dont.  It pushes the buttons that 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton couldn't.

Roses over at Journeying posted one of those MeMe quizes and although I don't make a habit of doing these, I thought I'd do this one.  One day I may re-do the 100 things about me post that I used to have on here in another lifetime, but at the moment thats a lot of things to write down!

1. First thing you wash in the shower?
My hair, that way I can wash the conditioner residue off when I wash the rest of my body, thus reducing the risk of backne, which is not hot.

2. What color is your favorite hoodie?
I don't own a hoodie.

3. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?
Oh hell yes.

4. Do you plan outfits?
Sometimes.  I have to look presentable for work, so I try to match things.

5. How are you feeling RIGHT now?
A bit disappointed that its Sunday already, but looking forward to going out in a little while.

6. Whats the closest thing to you that's red?
The handle on some Smashbox makeup brushes.

7. Tell me about the last dream you remember having?
I was in a restaurant with my dad.  I don't remember what we ate.

8. Did you meet anybody new today?
Its only 10:17am at this point, but I doubt I will.

9. What are you craving right now?
A substantial lottery win.  No seriously, a milkshake from ShakeAway would be good.

10. Do you floss?
Sometimes.  I'm on a bit of a tooth whitening kick at the moment, so I'll probably start again.

11. What comes to mind when I say cabbage?
Shredded, coleslaw.

12. Are you emotional?
Yeah, probably too much.

13. Have you ever counted to 1,000?
At school probably.  I usually get as far as 15, maybe 20 and then blow my stack.

14. Do you bite into your ice cream or just lick it?
I lick, sensitive teeth and all that.

15. Do you like your hair?
Love it.  I'll love it more when my roots get sorted out next weekend.

16. Do you like yourself?
Yeah.  I think in spite of spending lots of time wondering how the fuck I got where I am and pondering the futility of life, I'm pretty cool.

17. Would you go out to eat with George W. Bush?
Is he paying? Might be worth a laugh.  If nothing else it'd be a good blog post.  And for once, I'd know more about politics than the other person at the table.

18.What are you listening to right now?
Drowning (Face Down) by Saving Abel.  Awesome song, awesome band. I urge you to listen.

19. Are your parents strict?
Not overly so, but I knew my boundaries and was never so stupid to cross them.

20. Would you go sky diving?
Never say never, but I strongly doubt it. 

21. Do you like cottage cheese?
No.  Its baby sick.  But I understand its potential for those on a diet.  If its all you can have and its so disgusting you can't bring yourself to eat it, it makes it much easier to consume fewer calories.

23. Do you rent movies often?
I go through phases.  I may not rent anything for a couple of months, then rent 5 films each weekend for a month.

24. Is there anything sparkly in the room you're in?
I'm in my bedroom, so yes.  Nearest to me is the handle of an Agent Provocateur Riding Crop which was bought on a (rather expensive) whim - it has a green diamante encrusted handle.  Other than that, tons of costume jewellery.

25. How many countries have you visited?
Six.  Which is pitiful.

26. Have you made a prank phone call?
No, been on the receiving end of one though.

27. Ever been on a train?
Of course.

28. Brown or white eggs?
Whatever is in the box.

29. Do you have a cellphone?
I have a Sony Ericsson C902, which I love.  But I want, want, want an iPhone.

30. Do you use chap stick?
Amongst many other lip balms, yes.

32. Can you use chop sticks?
I can, but I usually don't.

33. Who are you going to be with tonight?
Either my friends or my thoughts.  Depends what time I get home.

34. Are you too forgiving?
I probably am.  There are a lot of people, particularly in my past, that I should tell to fuck right off.  I don't, because I don't really want to cause too much bad feeling.

35. Ever been in love?
I've been in love a few times.  The rub was that the objects of my affection didn't reciprocate.

36. What is your best friend(s) doing tomorrow?
Looking for a job.

37. Ever have cream puffs?
Yes.  Not my favourite, but I've had them.

38. Last time you cried?
About a week ago.  In the car on the way to a meeting with a colleague and out of sheer frustration at something that happened the day before.  Poor sod, didn't know where to look.  He just said "Pretty blondes in nice cars aren't meant to be crying.  They'll think its my fault".  He's hilarious sometimes.

39. What was the last question you were asked?
"Is 11:30am okay?"  And it is.

40. Favorite time of the year?
Winter - because of Christmas and the associated fairy lights.

41. Do you have any tattoos?
Just the one.

42. Are you sarcastic?
Yes.

43. Have you ever seen The Butterfly Effect?
No.  Didn't fancy it.

44. Ever walked into a wall?
Only metaphorically.  I did literally walk into a tree one day last year, cue mild concussion.
 
45. Favorite color?
Teal.

46. Have you ever slapped someone?
Yes and he deserved it.  It probably wasn't hard enough either.

47. Is your hair curly?
Not without some help.  Its poker straight.

48. What was the last CD you bought?
Scars and Souvenirs by Theory of a Deadman.  If you like Nickelback, you'll like these guys.  Awesome, good old fashioned Rock n Roll.

49. Do looks matter?
Yes.  I think pride in your appearance is a big thing.

50. Could you ever forgive a cheater?
I think its all a context thing, but yeah, I could.

51. Is your phone bill sky high?
No, I get lots of inclusive minutes.

52. Do you like your life right now?
Its okay.  Some areas could be better but I can't change them right now.

53. Do you sleep with the TV on?
Most nights I do.  I sometimes remember to set the sleep timer but more often than not I forget.

54. Can you handle the truth?
Yep.

55. Do you have good vision?
Its not perfect, but its okay.

56. Do you hate or dislike more than 3 people?
I can think of two people that pushed me to that point when they were around me.  They aren't anymore so I'm just indifferent.

57. How often do you talk on the phone?
In my personal life, at least once but all day long for work.

58. The last person you held hands with?
What about them?

59. What are you wearing?
A t-shirt and shorts.  I'm not dressed yet. Which is a bit of an issue given that its 10:40am.  I'm going out at 11:30am.

60.What is your favorite animal?
I know that Alexandr the meerkat isn't real, but I love him.
 
61. Where was your default picture taken at?
My bathroom!

62. Can you hula hoop?
I could when I was a kid.

63. Do you have a job?
Yes.

64. What was the most recent thing you bought?
I bought all sorts yesterday.  Dry Shampoo, Shower Gel, various foodstuffs.

65. Have you ever crawled through a window?
Yeah, I think so.

66. When was the last time you've been to church?
A funeral last May.  I wish it had been in different circumstances.

67. What's your least favorite meal?
I really don't like Cottage Pie.

68. Did you ever steal anything by mistake?
No.

69. Have you ever won anything?
£85 on the lottery a couple of weeks back, which was a nice surprise.

Found Ya...

Sometimes, as most bloggers probably do, I like to have a look and see how people have found my site.

A lot of the time its either people who have my bookmarked, or find me through another blog I read but occasionally they find me through a search engine.

Yesterday, someone found my blog after typing in "How to fix a bad mother-daughter relationship".

I don't know if that person found any useful information in my posts.  But, if you are that person and you happened to have come back I'll give you my honest opinion.

If it's recently gone bad, you might be able to fix it.  If it's always been bad, you have to find a way to reconcile it in your head and come to terms with the fact that you're probably never going to have that "my mother is my best friend" thing happening.  Another helpful tool is to look at your mother's relationship with her mother.  If it was bad, there's a pattern here and on some level you have to consciously break that cycle - for your own sake.

It took me a lot of counselling and soul searching before I realised that I was tying myself in knots to please my mother and it was totally pointless.  It never worked.  It was never enough and I got tired of feeling like I was never enough.

Its been a few years now since I was in therapy working through it all, but I can honestly say that now, other than the odd frustration at things that go on in my house I'm totally at ease with the fact that we're not that family. 

I aspire to more for my children.  I want to be a good mother for them if/when I have them.  I don't want to make them feel like I felt for way too much of my life.

Thats just my two cents worth, if you've come back that is.  If you're reading and you're not that searcher, then you've just had another bit of insight into my inner workings!

To Do List Item - Reduce Swearing?

This is a snippet of a conversation I had with my colleague today, I've cut out most of the whining done beforehand:

Me - "...I mean I'm not that horrible.  I'm direct, yeah.  But not horrible."

Him - "No, you're not horrible.  You are direct though.  And you swear a lot."

Me - "Yeah, I do."

Him - "You swear as much as I do and I swear all the motherfucking time."

Me - "Yeah, you do.  But really, is it soo bad that I swear?"

Him - "It doesn't bother me.  Its not all that ladylike and if you were in my team I'd probably end up speaking to you to tell you to stop."

Me - "Well, I'm not in your team.....so fuck you."

God I'm witty. 

Really though, it seems as if I need to try and stop swearing.  Or at least cut back.

The problem is I love it.

Did you ever see the clip from Denis Leary's "No Cure for Cancer" where he does a little bit about how he loves to smoke?  Well, I feel the same about swearing.

I love it almost as much as I love Seinfeld and nice lingerie and bright coloured eyeliner and spaghetti carbonara (NB:  I love all of these things a whole lot).  There is something so bizarrely satisfying about having a little sweary rant when you've just spoken to a rude customer or stupid supplier on the phone.  And a girl saying the "C" word - awesome.  No one expects a girl to say that word and when you do...that look of shock?  Thats good shit.

One of the misconceptions about swearing (or cursing, for those over the pond) is that it indicates a lack of vocabulary or is a sign of ignorance.   I don't think thats true.  I'd consider myself pretty wordy.  Verbose at times even.  And Ignorant?  No, I don't think so.

I think I'm a reasonably intelligent woman.  I know stuff.  I can string together an eloquent sentence if required.  I could get by without swearing.

But I could get by without Seinfeld, nice lingerie, brightly coloured eyeliner and spaghetti carbonara too and you know, I don't think I want to.

Boxes - Part 2

Continued from Boxes - Part 1

My counsellor, of course, didn't have the answer to my box conundrum.  Only I could work that out.  Nothing comes on a silver platter (except possibly sandwiches and canapes, but I was fairly sure they had nothing to do with the box).

This meant that I had to work it out for myself.  Sure enough, I did.

I have real issues with a few things in this world.  The real biggie is my loathing for people who don't use the brain they were bornn with.  It drives me insane.  There are so many things in this big wide world that you can learn, so many things that happen, why would you bury your head in the sand?

That was when I realised what the metaphor was.  The box is my life.  And at that moment, without sounding wildly melodramatic I realised that it was pretty much empty.  I didn't feel like I was achieving or learning or growing and somehow I wasn't taking responsibility for that.  I was happy to get home, slob out in bed watching tv and then complain that I wasn't getting anywhere.

That had to change and change straight away.

So I changed it.  I enrolled on two courses, one on the Alexander Technique and one on Forensic Psychology.  The Alexander Technique serves two purposes.  Firstly its a new thing to learn, but secondly and probably more importantly its something I can use.  I'm tall, my posture is shocking and the whole point of AT is to use your posture to improve your health overall.  I'm totally willing to give that a try.  The Forensic Psychology is just something I'm interested in.  If you set me down in front of the Crime and Investigation network, I'm a happy camper.  I love that stuff.  I don't know that its a career path that I'd look at going down but you  never know.

I realised that I was unhappy at work, but not really because I don't like my job.  Sure it frustrates me, but everyone goes through that.  I was unhappy at work because really, I was feeling totally unfulfilled at home and so had this massive expectation that I'd find a sense of fulfillment at work.  When I realised that wasn't happening I felt resentful.  Feeling that I can now find fulfillment through something other than my job, my outlook is different and I don't dread going to the office.

As well as all of the above, I joined the gym.  I've threatened to go for ages, but when the local gym here had a re-fit I decided that it would be a good time to start.  I've had a cold and a pulled muscle that stopped me going, but I start again tomorrow with a vengeance.

I'm not going to the gym to lose weight or run a marathon or anything as extreme as that.  I'm going because I need to keep the box that is my life in better shape.  Consider it a little french polishing, keeping everything shiny.

I explained all this to the counsellor and he was pleased that I'd worked through it all.  When I get to that point it means I stop going to the sessions which is a shame because I really love having an impartial person to talk through my issues with, but I can always go back if I need to.

The most important thing is that I actually feel better about everything.  I don't care what people  think of me and my chosen path at the moment because its my path and I chose it.  I'm not ambling, I'm walking towards something for the first time ever, in my adult life at least.  It feels pretty damn good.

So that was my box story.  I'm now off to write two assignments for my courses.  Look at me, all student-y.

Boxes - Part 1

I've intentionally split this post into two as its something I want to write about, but there'sd a lot of information and background to it.  You get part one today and probably part two during the middle of this week.

Of late, I haven't felt like the most inspired, warm, fuzzy, friendly, positive bunny in the meadow.  I've been intolerant of various people in various situations and intolerance with no release leads to evil plotting.  Sort of desperate fantasizing about the things you wish that you could do but would probably make you extremely unpopular and probably cost you your job.

This means that a trip to the counsellor was due.  Things usually improve after a few visits.

My main issue this time has been at least partially linked to the announcement that several people around me are pregnant.  Naturally, I'm happy for them but in the grand scheme of things I'm not massively interested.  I don't much care for babies.  4/5 year olds that say hilariously inappropriate things? Oh yes.  But Babies?  No.  I guess they'll have to come back in a few years to catch my interest.

There is, however, one thing I dislike more than babies.  One thing that really, really pisses me off. And that is people who tell me that when I meet the right man, I'll feel differently about it all. 

I don't like being told how I'll feel by anyone.  I especially don't like being made to feel that because I'm single and not baby-crazy, I'm a - inferior (because really, getting pregnant is like the hardest thing ever - have you seen some of the retards out there that breed?) or b - that I don't know my own mind.  I really do.  I really, really, really know that I don't like babies.  I do see myself with kids at some point.  I however don't particularly see myself being pregnant and you can bet your sweet arese that I don't see myself going through labour so thats all going to provide a slight challenge to the obtaining of babies, short of some kind of weird Raising Arizona set up or adotoption or something.  

My closest friends know better.  I don't have many friends with babies, but those that do have never given me that little speech.  One friend of mine just had her third child 3 months ago and only told me she was pregnant when she was 4 months gone by saying "I did tell you I was pregnant didn't I?"  and then for the remainng 5 months hardly talked about it at all.  She just got on with it.  Maybe she's a pro and by baby #3 its just not a big deal.  I don't know.

This was all bugging me big-time and I relay all of this information to the counsellor and he asks me why I think its bothering me so much, am I jealous?  I think about it, the shitty nappies and the puking and the no sleep and the labour and no.  I'm not jealous.

Then, he hits the nail right on the head.  I don't have a comeback and thats the problem.

I can't say to these people that hassle me about not being settled down/pregnant "Well, yes, I'm not married and pregnant because I've been studying to be a doctor/promoting my new film/preparing for my first mission to Mars" because I haven't done any of those things*. 

Which leaves me with a quandry.  What do I want to do?   Not an easy question to answer.

The counsellor had me write my obituary.  Dark.  Also, not easy when you don't know what you're trying to achieve.  It was interesting to work through the stuff I don't want to do or be and I managed to find out a few of the things that are important to me.  Unfortunately it still didn't provide me with any comforting insights.

The next week, he had me do sort of a guided meditation and I went to the House of my Soul.  Everytime I say that, either out loud or in my head I end up following it with "Ooooohhhh" because it sounds slightly sinister.

So, off I go.  It was a nice house.  I was there, a few years older but aging pretty well and looking pretty happy.  That probably had something to do with the fact that I was clearly doing well in general, the house was massive.  At the end of its own gravel driveway.  With gates.

He told me that in the house, someone would be there and someone would give me something or might even tell me something and that I was to thank them and take whatever item or wisdom they gave me.

I gave myself a box. 

A chinese black lacquered box, with a really pretty mother of pearl inlay on the hinged lid.  Similar to one I'd seen at the V&A a couple of days before.

What.  The.  Fuck.

*You're surprised aren't you?  You all thought that my huge gaps between posts were due to my busy career in medicine/film/space travel. Its not.  I'm just a lazy blogger.

Random Beth Facts #2

Thank you all very much for your comments on my last post, my ankle is all better now.  The bruising got a bit worse as that week wore on (on the worst day you could see all the colours from the rainbow song, which I was pretty impressed with!) and its totally gone now.

I haven't really done much these last couple of weeks.  Last weekend my dad had hired a car for something as his was isbehaving and he got an automatic so I could do some of the driving.  I did ok, other than fighting not to lose my rag wit being told "overtake here", "watch your braking" etc.  Sunday I took the car out by myself and managed to deal with the M25, the Dartford Crossing (both bridge and tunnel!) and bay parking at Bluewater all without having a meltdown.  I'm not planning on buying a car any time soon, but its good that I hadn't totally forgotten what to do behind the wheel.

As not much has happened, I'm doing another "Random Facts" post. I did one last year and so I think its time for a few additions.

Having seen the new Batman film, I do not think Heath Ledger deserves a posthumous Oscar.  Yes, he put in a good performance.  Yes, it is sad that he died so young.  But no, this is not Oscar-worthy stuff.  He'll win it of course, because the wrong people always win.

I have a slight addiction problem with Cherry 7-Up.  Its hard to find over here, so when I do find it I buy lots and am probably well on the way to wrecking my teeth.

I absolutely always read any takeaway menus we get put through the door and check for spelling mistakes.  I even did this in a pub a couple of weekends ago.  If you're printing something to give to customers, go on, try spellcheck in Word.  Its fab.

I have a lingerie and cosmetic habit.  I am forever buying new undies or new makeup and I need neither.  I can't help it, I like pretty things!

A few weekends ago, I went with some friends to Crews Hill.  For those not in the South East of England, its a town on the outskirts of London well known for its ridiculous number of Nurseries/Garden Centres.  Apparently its lovely at Christmas but I've never been. Anyway, we went, looking for a garden gnome.  One place in particular had a pet store and they had Westie puppies.  I love Westies.  I fell in love with one of them and as much as I'd have loved to buy him, I didn't have the required £600 sitting around to spare.  I said my goodbye and that puppy watched me the whole time I walked out of the shop.  I am still getting flashbacks of his gorgeous little face and I'm really hoping he's gone to a good home.

I just have to get through Monday morning at work and then I don't have to go back for the rest of the week.  Even better, I still have 3 weeks of holiday time to use up before the end of this calendar year.  I am extremely excited about this.  I'm not going away, but I love lazy weeks off.

Something else I'm alo extremely excited about; two months today Hockey season starts again.  This means lots of late nights and listening to hockey commentary over the net.  Lets Go Lightning.

Thats all I've got for now...hope you're having a great weekend so far!