In the future I will consider them as people I once knew ...

Friends, mates, muckers, pals, buddies, acquaintances, people I once knew (or just saw a lot in job/s, in my hood, just bumped into a lot going about the week's routine).  What constitutes a friend?  Lately I have been wondering if I should be more discerning, the old quality over quantity thing AND CULL?

However some 'friends' bombard me with those emails reminding me of the value of friendship.  The image below is not an excerpt from any of those rather it illustrations the fact that I currently find myself on the horns of a dilemma. 

Being in a new city, job etc it has been felt necessary over the past few years to 'make [new] friends'.  It is part of the requirement, how could I possibly do without them.  I still try to maintain my old friendships through emails, postcards, birthday/Christmas cards the odd Skype call but it does feel a little one-sided on occasion.  Is it the responsibility of the person who has left the routine, the safe circle of friendship, to keep these fires burning?  I guess it is only natural to keep up close contact so soon after leaving and before a new life and routine is established but I am not sure why the compulsion is so strong.  Also so many so called experts on quality longevity go on and on about the importance of human relationships and indeed the value of  making continuous connections.  But at the moment I am just not feeling it, in fact it has been a long time coming but for many and various reasons I am emotionally disengaging.  In a nutshell many of my so called 'mates' are just pissing me off.

I guess it all goes back to ego and the perceived need to be liked and so by extension have to prove it by having such a large number of friends - along a sliding scale of importance of course - yes it goes back to the ego and the dynamics of the primary school playground.   I see so much evidence around me especially in the new social media sphere.  We are no longer content to have 2-10 good pals that we variously go out with or call, write to etc.  Now we must have literally hundreds least we be classified as a 'loser'.  A terrible Americanism but the sentiment is universal.  I must have strong ego, although I am unaware of a way to measure it, but reflecting upon it, it is like having a gang when you are very young.  It validates you and I am not sure how that starts.  But however it started, I should by now have grown up, got over it and ceased to need the gush of (often disingenuous and insincere) 'mates' to make me feel like an OK person.  And do I really care anyway?  That is the tough call. 
I was out tonight with a mate, Tonya, whilst we were walking to our place of chosen entertainment, I heard a busker say very clearly (perhaps not to me directly but nonetheless it struck a cord) "...the power of attraction, you attract like to like..."  I have to say in that moment I knew that I didn't really want to be spending time with Tonya, I just felt obliged and we have one thing in common, so she is the mate that shares my enjoyment of comedy shows.  Is it just that I am using her, do I really enjoy her company.  Do I just see her to add her to my list of 'mates' to enjoy the gossipy, soap opera nature of her life dramas?  I accuse himself of being a voyeur the way he pours over Facebook, but although I am doing it in 'real-time', does it amount to the same thing/vice?

I feel a list coming on:

Tonya - self-obsessed, greedy, drama queen, eats like a pig, materialistic, selfish, a generous entertainer

Lisa - marter, talks up her past careers and lifestyle  - been there, done that , got the T-shirt, hypocondriac, good strategic networker, dynamic an amazing survivor but an A1 bullshitter - which insults her mate's intelligence

Sharon - selfish, good fun, childish, superior, emotionally stunted by family circumstances (a great case for a psycho-analysist), catholic ingrained guilt, kind to strangers and those in need, could be a great leader, emotionally needy, makes my dependence on red wine seem like I am just not trying.

Mary - it really is all about her, her, her - but I think she is 'mindful' of that and tries to do better but just can't fight who she really is.  Good person but has the 'Marilyn Monroe' complex, just has to be desired and put on a pedestal at all times otherwise life is perceived as bearly worth living.  A material girl but also extremely capable, warm and generous/matenal person, good company - as long as you mostly talk about HER and she is showered with accolades.

If that busker was right, I am in real trouble!

I love them really......

Stop Whining!

I was excited this week as I had the prospect of a few days by myself coming up.  Him-indoors would be away doing sporting things with some mates and so I had a holiday with myself.  This happens about 4/5 times a year on average and when I know one is coming up I usually try to minimise diary commitments to thoroughly indulge in some 'me' time.  The usual routine is housework, at least one project, at least one lie-in and perhaps a beauty treatment and then eat whatever the hell I fancy and drink a damn fine bottle (or sometimes 1 through to 2) of red.  Well mostly bog standard quaff able red.

I had had a relatively good week leading up to it (hooray a short work week), a day off work on Wednesday to go on a 'gal's day out' with my mama and then at the end of the next work day, I went to a very enjoyable live concert with him-indoors, not bad considering I swore off live 'pop' concerts last year for many and various reasons.  Also this week I had a good night out on Tuesday, when I quaffed a large amount of red and then on Thursday night, at a loss for anything else to do, had another two glasses of questionable red in a plastic glass.  I wasn't going to drink on Tuesday night but I was with the same friends on the preceding Friday at another retro gig at the same venue.  I was in one of those really bad (cumulative Friday 5pm work) moods and decided the only way to be sociable was to drink through it - previously a winning strategy - and the bar we started out in had a very good happy-hour.  So before I even got into the gig I had downed at least 5 glasses of red.  Inside the venue I got through at least 3 more reds = pissed.  As a result my previously bad mood, alleviated through 2-5 glasses of red, showed its ugly head again, inevitably through glasses 6-8 of red.

But I was never NOT going to drink my fill - and here lies the problem and I really SHOULD know better! 

Despite being able to see the act (for a change) I still wasn't happy as I felt the sound quality was rubbish and although loud, the vocal of the lead singer really lacked clarity, still in my mood I had to have something to moan about.  So after spilling a little red down my front (classy) and probably having a little weep (even classier) I said cheery-pip to my red consuming partner and repaired for home.   So as usual I was determined to get the train and got down to the platform and my mood was further inflamed by the fact that I the train was at the platform but even as I got to the door and pressed the button, I missed the window of opportunity to get inside the train by about 20 seconds and my personal carriage left the station without me!!   Amazingly, in hindsight, I had checked the train times earlier and knew that was the last one from that station and so had to high-tail it to the main station for the penultimate train that night.  In my haste I fell up the escalator at some point and quickly (staggered) to the next station and managed to get a seat and get home.   I have vague recollections of my journey home and recall looking, perhaps staring, at my Friday night drinking companions and in particular a couple in the seat opposite me, I was no doubt judging them all, my favourite commuting hobby.  I then managed the double-whammy of actually getting off at the correct stop and when I got home I didn't make a complete nuisance of myself with himself and took myself into the computer room to surf and have a midnight feast.  Thankfully there was no more red at home as no doubt I would have carried on...!

The next morning I had the usual alcoholic guilts when I saw the red stain on my top, saw the huge bruise on my arm, the cut on my hand and the massive (and still painful over a week on) bruise on my shin-bone.  I was surprised that otherwise I had a relatively minor hangover, but that midnight feast and a few pints of soft drink probably helped avert the hyper-tension.  So I had all the usual "I'm never drinking again" talks to myself, however, ironically I had previously organised a romantic evening away. 

For my last birthday, my lovely M-in-L purchased me a voucher for dinner and/or wine at a vineyard in the country.  So that meant I would say farewell to red in a fitting way by having a quiet, romantic, grown-up, refined dinner with quality red and that would be that.  It was a lovely meal and the wine was available not at restaurant but vineyard prices.  So we had two bottles of their excellent Cab-Sav.  However I kept the screw cap and as himself had had enough, I took two-thirds back to the (very stylish farm B&B apartment) to finish off there.  My master plan worked as my greed - which is ever present - had hoped for the rest of the bottle and my sensible, mature partner had decreed that it was "... all mine, has I have had enough...".  I should have been manoeuvring himself into a romantic clinch but instead he fell asleep whilst we watch telly and I had my romantic clinch with my main man - red!

So fast-forward to the following (last) Tuesday, all day I was resigned not to drink at the pub but after doing the usual rounding up of the posse, felt unsure how it was all left with my Friday night mates i.e. had I insulted them prior to retiring for the evening.  So dispute my resolve all day, I then did a U-Turn and drank to excess to smooth any wrinkles.  Eventhough I established fairly early on that all was well and they were probably just as pissed as me and so not completely pissed off and judgemental, I carried on down the red path anyway. Go girl!  I can't really remember the end of the evening but again got home OK and did the usual midnight feast routine.  However this time I did NOT get away with it.  I surveyed my bar tab with interest, I had purchased two bottles and two glasses of red and I know that at least 2 (maybe) 3 other bottles were purchased - bad.  Well I had to be up relatively early as I was having said day out with mother and two train journeys to look forward to.   Now whenever I have a hangover, almost the worst place to be is on a train, particularly one I can't escape from (i.e an express) as when hyper-tense, I always feel claustraphobic.  So I visited my second favourite purveyor of sugar, had a strong hot chocolate and a yo-yo biscuit - which looked great but I didn't enjoy as it was so greasy.  Poor me.  But the train journey was relatively bearable but the tension seemed to get worse as the day progressed and I left it too late to eat and so my low blood sugar level combined with my high blood pressure was not good news.  Anyway time is the great healer and slowly but surely I recovered post lunch.  Then dispite all of the above, I still had two reds on Thursday night.

Fast forward to now and the point of this little tale (to myself for future reference and reflection) comes the first day of my holiday with myself, it coincided with Good Friday.  Because I was out so much last week, provisions in the house were low and himself was only concerned with getting himself ready for provisioning his trip.  GF has a effect on retailers similar to CD and so almost nothing was open.  I did manage to get some food but on GF, no outlet can sell booze by law and for some reason (well out of routine as it is always forms a major event on the itinerary of my holidays with myself), I wanted red and I was probably going to procure two bottles.  But it wasn't to be and as a result and because I knew I had some G&T mix at home, I didn't have a trantum in the supermarket when I saw the sign that read - we cannot sell liquor today by law.  Like the baby that I am I certainly had a pout on but ironically as the night progressed I thought about the situation more and more and realised what a problem I have.  I didn't have any G&T and although there was a bottle of white and champagne in the house, they were not red and so I wasn't even tempted by the demon drink. 

As the character of Carrie on S&TC once said .... we have had some great times and I was hoping to have a whole lot more but it is just over.  .....  I am paraphrasing and she was talking about cigarettes but it is the same feeling.  I managed to kick that addiction back in 2004 (last fag at 6.15pm on Sunday 15th September) but what spurred me on then was pain. 

Red is just not as much fun anymore and I have to be the grown-up and just stop hurting myself.  Not least because I have another red to worry about and I know he would be pleased that I was healthier.  But ultimately, my body is not longer able to process red like it once did and as I have no 'off switch', it just has to go.  So like a bitter sweet relationship, I have to move on for the sake of my wellbeing.

FAREWELL, parting is such sweet sorrow!

SUFFERING FROM CENTURIES OF TAMING

A very dull week at work topped and tailed by two close friends having extremely dramatic weeks in their respective working lives (I almost typed careers but that is a gross mis-representation) I am starting to think that post-feminist, Gen-X women, may have been sold a pup.

So one person lost their job because the management concocted a loophole to change the status of the role and in effect create a redundancy.  And the other was persuaded around a year ago to take a faux promotion as she had experienced trauma in her life and on her return to work, they just couldn't handle it and wanted her gone, somehow, anyhow.  My take on it of course but it has resulted in the same thing and I persuaded her to speak to and join the union.  Within six weeks she had the redundancy she really wanted and was paid off.  So ying & yang but it left me just feeling angry for both of them that despite their skills and talent, they have been made to go through very stressful times as the organisations we all work for are so badly managed and the passive/aggressive approach seems to be the order of the day. 

It doesn't seem to matter where I work, communication is always poor and few seem capable of managing difficult situations or conversations well.  Am I any better?  I am certainly mindful of it and strive to improve.  I certainly cannot do any worse than the existing management, who only seem to get their jobs by virtue of success in other areas but never have proven people management skills.

WHY IS IT SO HARD.....?

A quick surf of the management sites have proved quite amusing:
1. Bad bosses 2. 10 Difficult employees and how to handle them 3. Get insanely motivated 4. A Good Manager?

What got me started thinking about this was the fact that just over a week ago I went to a concert to see an entertainer who enthralled me when I was a 'bobby-socker' but instead of being enthralled all over again, it left me feeling a bit desperate and depressed.  Not that both me and he were just so much older, he was great, he put on an amazing show - looked fantastic, sang and moved well - but it had just been a bad week because of all the anger I had absorbed and I had no out-let for it.    I know Mr Ant too has had a bad time post his early success and I was very excited to see him perform (and secretly very happy to be in the same room as him).