Thursday, December 10, 2009

Moving Story

Okay, I’m still here. I have not had any bath/ toaster moments (I can’t - I don’t have a bath). Nor have I been necking vast quantities of paracetamol washed down with a lonely whiskey aperitif. That would kill me.

Instead, I have been plodding along as usual, and digesting your comments:
“Get out of that flat.”
“Mondays are shite.”
“The reason you're depressed is the same reason that's holding you back.”
“Your posts… used to be funny, but more recently, they make me worry for you.”
“We’ve accepted this imaginary 'dream life' (is) attainable, and… have come to believe it a right! Find joy in a few simple things.”
“I think you should do something about that job.”
“Take a break and… talk to a doctor, or take a holiday, or find a new job”
“Plan a change, one thing at a time, tell someone supportive, do not frame your change as losing or giving up (but) gaining, improving.”
“You believe in magic. You duck out of dates, you are rude to women the moment you realise you like them, you are a mixture of pride and doubt that makes you sabotage everything you do.”
“Cunt.”
“GET OVER YOURSELF.”
“Stop hanging around bars. You've got to put more effort into this thing.”


I’d like to thank you all. To be fair, I’m amused at how this blog has morphed into a vast repository of complaint; one colossal bitch about a crappy life in a crappy job and a crappy flat with no-one to fuck cuddle during the evening respite, a long catalogue of self-indulgent whinging with about as much worthiness of existence as a malignant polyp on a supermodel’s arse.

But, oh, it has. Whoops.

Anyhoo, in the two and a half weeks since my last post, there have been a few intriguing developments:
I saw St. Elmo’s Fire for the first time (fucking abysmal film that has dated really badly and is ridden with the worst screenwriting clichés I’ve ever witnessed. There may even have been a "You just don’t get it, do you?", as well as cringing moments like Rob Lowe’s former-student brat character paying a visit to his old college whilst his erstwhile frat buddies (never mentioned or seen before) cry with disbelief, “It’s the Man, the Legend!” and mean it, and who then proceed to throw an egg-shaped ball around before collapsing in a joyful heap to reminisce. There was also a cliffhanger ending I couldn’t have cared less about, involving a young Demi Moore rocking gently in a cold room.
For years I’d heard that St Elmo’s Fire was a seminal film of the mid-Eighties. Instead, it was just shit.

I also went to the cinema for the first time since Christ-knows when, to see Paranormal Activity. I think it’s supposed to be scary and you’re not supposed to laugh at the talc scene but ultimately, I enjoyed it. It has parallels to the Blair Witch Project (in that both were amateur horror films that did extremely well and made a gargantuan profit), yet was nowhere near as scary. Having said that, I saw Blair Witch ten years ago, long before I’d read Hitchens and Dawkins and still had a window of belief open to the supernatural.
(I watched Blair Witch again several years later and thought, ‘Hang on a minute, it’s just a bunch of annoying bastards swearing in a wood.’)

But all this needless film critique is obscuring all the day-to-day bullshit. My boss screamed blue murder at me last week. In fairness, I was being surly and difficult, openly bitching at the stuff he was giving me whilst I stared forlornly at the paper on my desk I’d been trying to wade through. His yelling – rare, to be fair – made me storm out of the office to walk for ten therapeutic minutes around the block. As I don’t take lunch per se, it was rather pleasant.

Then again, it hasn’t helped that the part-time guy my boss hired last year has now been taken on full-time and given my role, a situation that I had no say in whatsoever. Granted, we’re a small office mucking in together where the roles very much blur, but it has given me pause for thought. Mainly, I’ve thought that it’s becoming more conclusive that I quit, so this’ll be the second of my “temporary stopgap” jobs I’m about to leave. This one I’ve had for over four years except now, when I look for work, I’ll be the wrong side of my mid-Thirties, and further from my now irrelevant Media degree than ever before. And Oh look! I’m underqualified for just about everything too.
Good old Going Nowhere.

But the biggest leap to happened to me over the last couple of weeks has occurred thanks to my Mum. Since my brain went AWOL a few months ago, I’ve felt disjointed as hell; drifting slowly through each day, keeping my head down, not trying to rock the boat in case I went all blubby again and felt the need to speak to someone who’ll charge me a lot of money to listen to me whinge.

As such, I’ve been on the phone to said Mum almost every day. At one time, weeks if not months would go by until she’d call to remind me of her existence. Now we were seeking one another out because I’d become as emotionally unstable as a five-year old who’d just been told that Santa’d been accidentally gored by Rudolph and Christmas was cancelled forever.

Mum had planned something that had me shocked at first (initial 3 seconds), then mortified me (next twelve), then embarrassed me to the point that I’d refused her proposal. Her argument was that she’d be dead one day (her words), and there was little point in waiting until then to get some kind of inheritance. Better, she argued, to just cash in that inheritance and give it to me now to go towards a deposit for my own place.

It took me about two minutes to agree. I am aware that, written down, that doesn’t sound like a very long time at all, but it was 120 seconds of argument and shame before I’d decided that offers like this don’t come around very often. I’d also considered the ramifications of her proposal in light of my current miserable situation, and debated whether or not this was the key.

I currently live above a chemists about four miles west of central London with a Large Northern Flatmate. While it is a lovely area and perfectly suited to our needs, we’ve never personalised the living space as, well, it isn’t our place to do up. Instead it’s owned by the owner of the chemists, a man I’ve never spoken to or met who never bothers to get in touch when the damp sets in or mice appear. Our flat also features neighbours on all sides who, over the years, have caused me to break their fucking speakers or, more recently, intimidate the living fuck out of me.
Either way, as a base to live, it is adequate. Not ideal by a long shot, but as I’ve rented for virtually the last ten years, I’ve known nothing else. This is how I live.

So anyway, there’s me, wage monkey, no girlfriend, unhealthy and getting older, all pretty standard stuff you’ve read here a million times before, and brain goes kaput. Cue Mum to decide my problem's to do with how I live, and within 24 hours, I became an active househunter.

To date, I’ve seen six places. I have six more lined up this Saturday. I’m having to look further from London to afford the small cupboard conversion I hope to buy, but it’ll be much nearer my family if further from work.

I will no longer be able to cycle to work (or I will, except the time/ distance will triple), but I’ll be much closer to a Mum, a Dad and a sister + two nieces I currently never see.

And this, I hope, will finally stabilise me and mark the beginning of my return to the fringes of the human race.

(And no, I have no idea what my sister thinks about her inheritance forming the east wall of wherever I end up living.)

18 comments:

jenn said...

Your mom's attitude is a lot like my mom's. "Why wait until I die (and her family lives into the triple digits so it may never happen) when I can enjoy the money with you and your brother?"

Wow. A house.

How big kid of you. Welcome to the other side of the 30s.

daisyfae said...

delighted to read of a positive change! congratulations!

looby said...

It's much better having your own place. And think...you'll have somewhere nice to invite Lovely Girlfriend back to! But do it up, don't leave it like Single Bloke Cesspit.

Anonymous said...

Jammy cunt!

The Unbearable Banishment said...

You're house hunting on an advance in your inheritance? Did I get that right? Congrats. You whinge card has just been revoked.

sas said...

your mum rocks! i bet 2010 is a fucking awesome year. well after the trip to ikea anyway (this is inevitable after you purchase said house).

Huw said...

I moved to my own place in September. It's not a total solution to the existentialism-malaise you display - there are plenty of crispy socks on my floor (I am confident you get my meaning) - so do not rest on your laurels just yet sunny jim.

digressica said...

Gosh. Thanks Mummy! Nice one, dude.

Feel strangely relieved to hear of the upturn in your fortune.

Now I feel strange for being emotionally invested in the blog of a stranger.

Now I feel awkward for saying so.

Peach said...

Good to hear some good news dear Fweng. Am serious about Thailand - just get a flight out here and stay with me for nought and get a bit of sun on your body

xxxx

luna said...

She's handing you the sister's share as well?? Blooming hell.
Grab it and run!

Z said...

Oh, that's splendid, Fweng. Your lovely mum - taking the money is the right thing to do, believe me. You will make her very happy because she loves you.

Blue soup said...

I'm pleased to hear some good news from you. Not because I don't enjoy your moaning - I think you moan beautifully - but because everyone needs some good fortune from time to time otherwise life really can get unbearable.

And it shows your mum loves you a great deal - and everyone needs to be loved. Pass the sick bucket, of course, but you know what I mean. To know that you're loved can help you fight your way out of the doldrums.

I think also for you, a fresh start in a new place, and potentially with a new job in time, will help you move away from your rut. Don't be complacent though. Don't expect the world to be better immediately and without work from you, but take the changes and use them to propel yourself into a brighter mindset.

I hope the househunt goes well for you. x

Ellie said...

Good news. Congrats on the windfall.

Also remember Candide's observation: Il faut cultiver notre jardin ... I find it related to / or a slight variation on the them: idle hands are the devil's tools.

Stay busy. Doing something. Don't play that fucking spider game over and over again.

Clean up your room. Go for a walk. Get a dog! xxx

livesbythewoods said...

Hurrah! Your Mum is clearly a star. And you are too for having the balls to make such a huge, positive change in your life. Well done!

And roll on 2010, it has got to be a better year for all of us.

Mad Cat Lady said...

Recently stumbled across you blog and am enjoying the read - have to work my way through archives yet :)

Read one of your embarassing memories posts, so far, and well done with that - shrieked unbecomingly with laughter.

fwengebola said...

Jenn ~ It's actually only an apartment, and I'm not being given one, just a deposit.
Nonetheless, that 'just' means a great deal, and I'm phenomenally humbled.
df ~ Thanks. I think I'm about to feel very odd replying to a lot of happy, positive comments.
Loob ~ That thought had occured to me. I will invest in some Jif. Or Cif, or whatever it's called now.
Anon ~ Thank you.
UB ~ That's pretty much the upshot of it, and I'm eternally embarrassed and grateful.
SAS ~ I hope so. I'm currently looking forward to that big IKEA adventure, although of course I say that well in advance.
Huw ~ Oh, I get the sock reference. You've also highlighted the very real fear that had only been a mere dot at the back of my head that this'll cure nothing. Still, hope springs eternal.
Dig ~ Thank you for your releif. And your emotional investment. And now your awkwardness. I feed off your concern.
Oh. Eww.
Peach ~ Thanks ducks, particularly for your offer. I love the use of the word 'just'. I'd love to go. I bloody love Thailand. I'm now worried that I'll never be able to afford a holiday again.
Confused.
Luna ~ I think so. I'm running.
Z ~ Thanks Zed. That's also why I'm choosing to buy near her. I've spent the better part of ten years living near yet far enough away not to see her very often. Hopefully I'll see her a lot more now.
BS ~ I know this won't solve everything, but it'll be a phenomenal help. If it balances anything out, I'm utterly embarrased about it. I think that was put there to allow for some whinging in this moment of happiness. But I'm still overwhelmingly gobsmacked.
But still embarrassed.
E ~ "He can cultivate your (our?) garden"? Sorry, my French is fucking appalling. Ironic you should mention that. I've just played about 3 hours of solitaire to 'It'll be alright on the night' clips.
I want a pet enormously.
LBTW ~ I can hardly call myself a star for saying, "Yeah, go on then." That said, I'll accept it.
You too for 2010.
MCL ~ Oh hello, and welcome. Pleased to hear you haven't been put off by all the crippling misery yet.

Mad Cat Lady said...

The crippling misery is good and writ charmingly. Besides, its Christmas time - crippling misery is fitting reading for the season.

Merry Christmas by the way.

fwengebola said...

and a Happy New Year to you too!