Like everyone else I have bad days, and being me I end up making them into “bad days” in the bipolar sense of the word: Friday just gone, for example (8th November — one might say I had “Nine-Eleven” a day early, if one were inclined to joke about that kind of thing). How did it suck? Let me count the ways:
- We’re moving over to laptops and “agile working” at my workplace, and I got mine on Thursday; it’s got a stupidly oversized touchpad, which wastes space on the keyboard (and is extraneous anyway, since you can just plug in a mouse or use the little joystick). To underline how much the model sucks, it had its first “Blue Screen of Death” within an HOUR of me logging on. We’re also losing our phones and having to use Microsoft Lync to communicate instead. To add to this, I can’t work from home in my job (would that I could, but I do too much work involving the damned archive files), so for the time being I’ve got no advantage from having a laptop instead of a desktop.
- I don’t have enough to do at work anyway, which is why I have to keep resorting to archive-based work, despite being told they’d be finding me more “proper” desk-based work to do. I had Tuesday afternoon and all of Wednesday off sick with my cold, and the only reason it took me until the end of Thursday afternoon to get caught up with 1.5 missed days is that I spent all of Thursday morning being trained on my new laptop!
- The annoying woman and the other annoying woman are still at work — lots of people I care about, including the woman who helped me get through the worst time of my life, have left or gone on maternity leave, but the people whose voices I loathe never show any signs of going anywhere. And you know me, I’m too polite (or cowardly) to ask people to be quiet, so I end up just enduring it and tutting constantly, as well as completely freezing out the guilty people in social terms… and I don’t want my music to be associated with drowning them out!
- I had a nice date with a cute Oriental girl last Friday (1st November), but wonder whether I’ll ever see her again, or whether I’ve put her off me by ignoring “the rules” and responding to her via text message less than X minutes after receiving one from her. This kind of thing happens all the time — I have a date with someone, we part on good terms, and I never hear from her again (even when she says she’ll text me when she’s ready, which I can now only interpret as a polite goodbye), but on this occasion I actually really wanted to see her again!
- No, when I received a text message on Friday, it was from “best mate” saying he wouldn’t be able to come over at the weekend to help me shift the pieces of my old computer desk to the dump, because he had weekend work (which, fair enough, he needs to prioritise his own finances, otherwise he might not be able to stay in England). Since at the time I was planning to visit my folks next weekend, I felt like I had no way to complete the process of tidying my room (which is impossible with all these planks of wood leaning against the walls) — and I could hardly get mad at my friend, could I?
- Public transport. Yes, two words that could strike fear into the heart of any man. It was bad enough having to stand on the Northern Line to work, yet again (I’ve got to stop trying to come in on time), but after going climbing in the evening, my Piccadilly Line train terminated early and the replacement delivered me to Arnos Grove literally one minute too late for me to catch my bus home, so I ended up going to North Finchley, finding Waitrose closed, and walking home. On a very cold night (and no, it’s not enough to remind me of the people who have to sleep rough in this situation — unfortunately living in the big city’s hardened my heart to the suffering of others).
With all that, I’d come to the conclusion that hating my job, hating public transport, hating single women and just hating my life in general meant I was finished with London and needed to get out. Of course I’d love to live somewhere where they don’t have winter (like L.A. — I’d brave the earthquakes, smog, flash fires and Compton!), but it felt very possible that London and its people were primarily responsible for my misery, and that my primary goal needed to be getting out of the Smoke once and for all, even unto Worthing with my folks.
Still, eating food and having a hot shower helped me feel a bit better, and on Saturday I was able to go paintballing in Greenwich as planned (we won’t go into that — suffice to say I’m in a lot of pain on Sunday, but glad I went!). “Best mate” got in touch and got me to come to the cinema on Sunday (Gravity, if you must know), and although it didn’t turn out that way, he thought he might get off work by midday and be able to take me to the dump. Doesn’t matter, because I’ve got to stay in London next weekend anyway (so I can meet my female psychologist friend again), so unless he gets more weekend work, we’ve got time to clear my room finally.
And the girl, who is my Facebook friend, at least thanked me for tagging her in a photo I took last Friday — and hopefully won’t dump me so readily, now that so many of her friends and family have “liked” the picture! I’ll try calling her next week (would have done it today but was too busy studying, ripping DVDs, cleaning the lounge, seeing a film), if only to achieve closure, but hopefully to get another date. After all, she asked me what I thought of her when we were walking down Whitehall, so hopefully she actually likes me.
(Worrying fact: she has the same (adopted Western) first name as “female best friend”! That’s gonna mess with my head…)
Well, fine, I’m over my Friday depression (but physically exhausted) in a couple of days, and I’m not dead, which is the most important thing. However, it’s Monday tomorrow (today by 18 minutes as I write this), and I fear the whole cycle will begin again…
P.S. Just to prove I can shoehorn gratuitous Gwar references into the most inappropriate places — which sounds like the kind of thing Sexecutioner would enjoy, but we’ll leave that aside for now — I had “Penguin Attack” stuck in my head during my date last Friday. Yes, my “romantic montage” theme is a raucous heavy metal song by a bunch of evil alien barbarian rockers who spray their audiences with unspeakable fluids and behead public figures on stage!
I’ll post it here now, so you lot can have it stuck in your heads too — all together now: “They are on a rampage, unleashed from ancient time! Time!”