We were talking about maintaining composure in work today. How difficult it is sometimes to hold back and not say what you really want to. Especially in HR; unfortunately when the shit hits the fan, it always flys off and lands on HR, regardless of how little input we’ve had in it. When that happens, and you’re getting shit for something thats not your fault, it’s very difficult sometimes to not bite back.
We were also talking about Dawn French in work which sort of comes into the topic of maintaining composure. Everyone was going on about how good she looks for loosing all that weight. But to me she doesn’t look... happy. And I don’t blame her. Divorcing a husband of 25 years. It’s still a concept I can never get my head around. I’d struggle if my relationship broke up and thats just over three years; so I can’t begin to grasp how you’d deal after 25 years. 25 years of spending every day with someone, sharing all your thoughts, sharing everything; sharing the showers you wash in, the bed you sleep in. Being naked infront of them every day. Being 100% yourself with them every day. How do you even begin to deal with that not being there anymore? Even if the spark was gone. Even if the passion, the romance. There must be something after that length of time holding you together. I can’t get my head around it. My heart goes out to her, and my respect for managing to maintain her composure. Because I would be in curled in a ball I wouldn’t want to roll out of.
That’s the problem I think with getting close to anything. Enemies who are strangers are a lot safers than enemies made from friends. Because friends know such more about you. They know your weaknesses and insecurities, they know what to do that would hurt you the most, or annoy you the most. The closer the friend the bigger the potential danger. Same goes for a relationship, the closer the couple, the worse the break-up would end up being (if it happened). It’s a lesson I’ve learnt, only open up to people who open up back to you. Because if you pour your heart out to someone but know nothing about them there isn’t anything to stop them spilling it all should you fall out.
I found out earlier this week a lot of shit that happened a few years ago was as a result of a former friend of mine. At first I was furious. It suddenly came to light and I found myself in a rage, wanting to go and confront her; to say – what the fuck where you thinking? Why would you do somehting like that? It hurt more because she did know me so well. We had been close, she knew my secrets, she knew the thing that would hurt me most, so she teamed up with the people she knew I didn’t like to try and make it happen. It was so messed up, so twisted. Then I pondered it a bit more. Luckily, even though the shit was a hassle; it didn’t cause too many problems. I didn’t get hurt, just a bit frustrated. So essentially she ‘failed’. It was a long time ago as well so I’d sort of gotten over it, was there any point dragging it all back up sheerly to satisfy the curiousity of why anyone would do something so twisted for no apparent reason. I sort of new the answer, it was for kicks. I knew because I watched her do the same to others. Sat back and observed as she tried to mess with other peope for the sheer fuck of it. So it shouldn’t really of come of as a surprise when it all went to shit for me she was the one holding the puppet strings. I guess in the end after my anger had subsided that the only thing left was pity for her, and mild satisfaction that the things that bring me my kicks are spending time with people, nights out, nights in. Nice stuff; and that’s exactly how I want it to be.
Slightly lighter note and less dravelly bit now. A tip for all ladies out there. You know on a night out when you’re getting hassled by a boy? You tell them you have a boyfriend - .. “So?” You tell them you’re a lesbian – interested only increases... tell them you’ve got an contagious illness they usually just laugh. Sometimes the only way to get rid of them is to outright scream FUCK OFF in their face, and I’m not a fan of that. I’m not really a rude person, unless they’re being a dick in which case no hesitation. But if they’re nice enough and just eager I feel bad. Well, last Friday dancing the night away in the Krazyhouse, I found the ultimate repellent. Wear a ring on your ring finger. Sounds too simple doesn’t it? I didn’t think it would work either. But I had 100% success rate sending them running by just waggling my hand when they came near. I actually mean running. I might aswell of been waving a hand grenade at them. They scarpered. So if you want a hassle free night with the girls pop a ring on and get waving. (A hand grenade may also work.)
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