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inulroI'll go with self-indulgent drivel.
An interesting aspect of feeling physically better is having more time for my brain to dwell on things (rather than put all my effort into trying to stay conscious or obsess about the pain). I do even have semi-profound thoughts from time to time, but expressing them is another matter.
Ooh, this is long. Better stick it behind one of
Anyway, the last few weeks I've been thinking a lot about the people I've left behind. I'm nomadic. One of the prices I pay for moving around so much is that I lose touch with people I care about. (Particularly in the pre-email era. For my younger readers, no, it wasn't that long ago).
It used to be that I was pretty good at keeping in touch and other people weren't, and after about the fourth non-answered letter I'd give up, and by the time I swung by the right town, the person in question had moved on and I had no way to contact them.
The last few years have been different, particularly since I moved to Bristol. I gave a bunch of people my mobile number and a few what I knew would be a very temporary address. I told everyone I'd get in touch once I was settled. Things didn't go according to plan, and I was too embarrassed to admit to people that I was unemployed, homeless and spending more time trying not to get taken to court for non-payment of bills than I did looking for a place to live or a job. It took me the better part of a year to get the job aspect sorted out, and even then I was still financially non-blessed and hadn't exactly established the career I had in mind. By that time I was mortified at having taken so long to get in touch with everyone, which made me put it off further. Cue vicious cycle.
Since then with my health getting worse and having to exert all my resources to keep myself in work, I've lost touch with just about everyone who I'd maintained contact with up until then. Because I have exactly no life outside work and a less than exciting job, I don't have an awful lot to say to people (plus, a significant proportion of the time I can't string a sentence together). My life doesn't suck, but it's not exciting either, and I don't find cosy domesticity interesting in the least.
OK, skipping to before that, before I was sick even, I made a few really bad life choices, and lost the respect of the three people I cared about most, but we stayed in sporadic contact for quite a while anyway. One of them disappeared off the face of the earth while I was still in Manchester, but I was hoping to re-establish friendship with the other two. One of them never returned my letters, but I'm responsible for not getting in touch with the other. Long story. Entirely my fault.
Last weekend I sent lengthy emails to several people that were way long overdue. None of them have replied. I suppose I deserve that.
But if anyone I used to know is reading this, chances are I do still think about you a lot, I'm just a complete slug, so get in touch!
Enough of that, on with the fluff
The good news is I got paid on Friday. The bad news is my raise and back pay didn't come through. We got an email from HR saying the raise will come next and the back pay in August. I attempted to do retail therapy, but the centre of Bristol has become such a steaming pile of poo I failed to shop (unless a badly-overdue new mascara counts Maybe I'll stop getting conjunctivitis every three months now).
This is probably just as well, as I just checked on my savings and there's less there than I thought, and if I want to reach my goal of being out of debt this year, I really have to Stop Buying Stuff. (As soon as I make this next Ikea run. I need a new set of shelves, because I'd like to see the floor in this room again). So there will be no attendance at Cruxshadows gigs or Catalyst for me this year. Poo.
An interesting aspect of feeling physically better is having more time for my brain to dwell on things (rather than put all my effort into trying to stay conscious or obsess about the pain). I do even have semi-profound thoughts from time to time, but expressing them is another matter.
Ooh, this is long. Better stick it behind one of
Anyway, the last few weeks I've been thinking a lot about the people I've left behind. I'm nomadic. One of the prices I pay for moving around so much is that I lose touch with people I care about. (Particularly in the pre-email era. For my younger readers, no, it wasn't that long ago).
It used to be that I was pretty good at keeping in touch and other people weren't, and after about the fourth non-answered letter I'd give up, and by the time I swung by the right town, the person in question had moved on and I had no way to contact them.
The last few years have been different, particularly since I moved to Bristol. I gave a bunch of people my mobile number and a few what I knew would be a very temporary address. I told everyone I'd get in touch once I was settled. Things didn't go according to plan, and I was too embarrassed to admit to people that I was unemployed, homeless and spending more time trying not to get taken to court for non-payment of bills than I did looking for a place to live or a job. It took me the better part of a year to get the job aspect sorted out, and even then I was still financially non-blessed and hadn't exactly established the career I had in mind. By that time I was mortified at having taken so long to get in touch with everyone, which made me put it off further. Cue vicious cycle.
Since then with my health getting worse and having to exert all my resources to keep myself in work, I've lost touch with just about everyone who I'd maintained contact with up until then. Because I have exactly no life outside work and a less than exciting job, I don't have an awful lot to say to people (plus, a significant proportion of the time I can't string a sentence together). My life doesn't suck, but it's not exciting either, and I don't find cosy domesticity interesting in the least.
OK, skipping to before that, before I was sick even, I made a few really bad life choices, and lost the respect of the three people I cared about most, but we stayed in sporadic contact for quite a while anyway. One of them disappeared off the face of the earth while I was still in Manchester, but I was hoping to re-establish friendship with the other two. One of them never returned my letters, but I'm responsible for not getting in touch with the other. Long story. Entirely my fault.
Last weekend I sent lengthy emails to several people that were way long overdue. None of them have replied. I suppose I deserve that.
But if anyone I used to know is reading this, chances are I do still think about you a lot, I'm just a complete slug, so get in touch!
Enough of that, on with the fluff
The good news is I got paid on Friday. The bad news is my raise and back pay didn't come through. We got an email from HR saying the raise will come next and the back pay in August. I attempted to do retail therapy, but the centre of Bristol has become such a steaming pile of poo I failed to shop (unless a badly-overdue new mascara counts Maybe I'll stop getting conjunctivitis every three months now).
This is probably just as well, as I just checked on my savings and there's less there than I thought, and if I want to reach my goal of being out of debt this year, I really have to Stop Buying Stuff. (As soon as I make this next Ikea run. I need a new set of shelves, because I'd like to see the floor in this room again). So there will be no attendance at Cruxshadows gigs or Catalyst for me this year. Poo.
