Thursday, May 31, 2012

Me, me, me, me, me, me, me.

That's probably the Number One reason why I stopped blogging; I couldn't handle the constant self-absorption. It all just felt a bit, y'know, needy. And that neediness, or rather my unwillingness to bang on about myself was, if you will, the pastry in my Awkward Pie. Then there's the filling...

Self deprecation is funny. Being at rock bottom, all hopeless and sad and desperate, is amusing, provided of course there's a sense that there's light at the end of that tunnel, a redemption of some kind somewhere.

Then my situation got better. I stopped living like I was in a sitcom, atrophying in a shitty rented flat above a chemists in Chiswick with a family of mice and a bald man from Nottingham who did no work for a living while I carried on temping at my dead end job. Instead I went mental, sort of, and ended up getting a flat deposit from Bank of Mum. Now the sit in my sitcom is decidedly better; living alone in my own home in Watford. Granted, it's Watford, but it is cosy. I have rugs and stuff, and I now buy things like pictures which I hang on walls. And those walls are mine (and 10% my mother's.) I even buy reed diffusers and pot pourri on the offchance that a woman might walk in and see it.

Thus that narrative kinda slowed to a crawl. I could no longer complain about my life when I own (90% of) my ceiling and it's not decorated with damp.
I went on to lose 2 and a half stone somehow. I'm not sure where I got my motivation. I think I started to realise, finally, that I had to take charge of myself and be the best damn Me there is. And that involved the fucking gym. And dressing better. And living life moderately, with fewer drunken orgies (non-sexual), a bit more salad, and a little less chocolate.

Blah blah blah, it's all a rich tapestry.

And now I'm 38, as I have been for the last month. And of course nothing has really changed. I'm still at my dead-end temp job where at the beginning of the year I got a pay rise so gratifying that it caused me to shut up and stay put. So that's where I've been. Limbo, and embarrassed about blogging the same old shit when I felt I no longer had a right to complain.

Basically, I'm trying to be positive. I'm trying to re-wire that old shit that makes me dwell upon life's negatives - because it's funny (if ultimately a little crippling) - and I'm trying to focus on the pluses instead. And it ain't easy. I try and remind myself to stop looking at the little things that go wrong, and there are always some every day, and notice for once the dozens of things that go right all the time; Not oversleeping. Catching the train. Not getting crushed. Arriving on schedule. Not getting rained on. And yes, that hot Mediterranean woman didn't make eye contact with me as I neared my office, but neither is she screaming about El Diablo and vomiting onto her shoes anymore.

I am trying, except just when I think I'm out, they pull me back in.
THIS BOOK is phenomenal. I only got a couple of chapters in, yet it spoke to me immediately. I still want to finish it, I really intend to, except it's been sullied, devoured like a chaste, innocent bunny in a den of stinking wolves. It is a beautiful irony that a self-help book, one of the most famous in its field in its treatment on depression through cognitive therapy, got personalised for me one evening, on a rare night out with some old friends.

I had gone to the toilet, so naturally Ali rummaged through my bag and found my book. And when I returned, I discovered this...



I think it's fair to say that if I do end up fat again, and a drunk, and maybe on crack with absoutely no chance of a meaningful, lifelong relationship with anyone ever again, I can blame Ali.

So feel free to blame him too. He reads this and would love the feedback.


That's it. I have nothing else.

Work in progress.

Again.



16 comments:

Homer said...

Uplifting, and heaven knows that's not normally my reaction to your posts. Bloody good on you.

Ali, you're a dick and that was in no way funny at all. (*snort*)

McTodd said...

Ha ha!

daisyfae said...

you can always start writing nasty, depressing shit about other people...

Z said...

Ali, you sad twerp, I trust you apologised. A new copy of the book would show you meant it.

Fweng, you must have deserved that pay rise, they're not easy to come by right now. Good for you.

Anonymous said...

Ali, you totally fucking thoughtless self-absorbed loser. If I ever run into you I'm going to force -feed you a diet of righteousness until you fucking puke empathy. And in case any of these words are too complicated for you, then hear this: You're the fucking cunt, you illiterate intellect-fearing cunt. Paul, you deserve better, much, much better.

Peach said...

er, hmm, that last comment was a bit full on. Glad to read another post from you. And so glad to read you've shifted the weight you hated and got a good pay rise and you're loving your own place. Nothing wrong in that, just that art don't come easy to the happy. You could still regale us with your search for love, because that's not something you've said you've got in order, yet? And are we going for a drink soon please? X ps I've started blogging again too: www.notsosecretsarah.blogspot.com - see you xx

McTodd said...

Anonymous, don't use Fweng's real name FFS! Why do you think he blogs pseudonymously? If indeed the name you mentioned is his real name. I couldn't possibly comment...

Anonymous said...

Just as well it's such a common name. Of course his real name is Jason Porn.

McTodd said...

Anonymous said...
Of course his real name is Jason Porn.


Now everyone will know!

immaculate_bastard said...

This 'Ali' monster has just ruined everything...10 years of progression from utter worthlessness to happy-go-lucky bachelor...for nothing. Scum. Sub-human scum.

Anonymous said...

Ali, you fucking El Diablo cunt. You've fucking destroyed this innocent man with your vile besmirching of his book. You fucking cocktopus cunt.

John Soanes said...

I think it says a lot that he doesn't join the letters when he writes, don't you?
J

fwengebola said...

I've decided not to OCD/ reply to every single comment, so GENERIC THANKS to you all, and a FUCK YOU!!! to Ali, but he knows this already. He did buy me a Paul Ross mug for my birthday though, so he's not all that evil. Anyway, thanks for outting me, DAnon. And thanks for inning me, ROGER. I can't honestly be that mean, DF. That would be wrong. Unless of course PEOPLE CROSS ME. Thanks, Z. 7 years in the running for that one. I will be lurking blogwise, Sarah. Great to see you back. John, he uses crayons too.
(my worst replies ever - sorry...)

digressica said...

I would love to write that in somebody's self-help book. Just not YOURS, because I know you need all the self-help you can get. (Not like that, gutterbrain.)

I'm so pleased you're back. Don't stay away so long next time.

looby said...

Ali's the one who needs the help. not you. What a twat.

fwengebola said...

I was vaguely happy with that passive aggressive comment and wasn't reading handjobs (at the bottom end of the scale) into it, but thanks anyway.

And looby, thanks. Ali is now looking very sheepish at the moment, although that is fairly normal.