Waiting for the Opportune Moment

Subject:	re: Valentine's Day: great expectations vs crushing disappointment
Time:	10:18 pm.
Mood:	cold.
Music:	Valentine's Day, Linkin Park.

No one who is truly romantic can set any score by this pointless, over-blown, commercialist, capitalist, opportunistic "holiday" (and I use that term lightly). The scale of the event has been ruthlessly expanded by card shops and florists desperate to ply their trade in between Christmas and Mother's Day. This I can forgive, as small independent shops need all the business they can get. But now the massive supermarket chains have got in on the act, shoving Valentine's Day so far down our throats we're all shitting rose petals, selling cut-price champagne for the same price as up-market cider and £4 bunches of roses. Now, they seem to be saying, there is no excuse for ignoring it, everyone can afford cheap romance, so come buy our crap goods (and hope your girlfriend hasn't seen the ads too).

It has to be the least romantic day of the year. Girls demand their boyfriends/fiances/husbands make an effort, but, whatever they do, the blokes are pretty much screwed. Their options are to:-
1) be unforgivably unimaginative and pay the price, impoverishing themselves for a decent bunch of roses,
2) be hopelessly mushy and re-decorate the bedroom with rose petals and candles and hope she doesn't have a headache (and that the house doesn't burn down), or
3) forget and rush out to buy the last bunch of chrysanthemums in the shop.

The girls, of course, just have to lie back and enjoy it (or find fault, if they prefer).

And what about the rest of the year? If it takes this much commercial advertisement just to make the guy buy some flowers, sod it. Either accept that he's not into that kind of act of affection and get over it, or if you can't live without such romantic overtures, find someone who is more to your taste. I'd rather be surprised at some other time of the year than spend the whole of 14th Feb expecting to be surprised and treated to something nice.

For girls, our Valentine's Day experience falls into one of three categories.
If you've given enough hints over the past two weeks you receive (hideously expensive) red roses and your fella pays through the nose for a oh-so-romantic meal in a fancy restaurant that is a) crammed because everyone else is doing the same thing and b) over-priced because the restauranteurs are (quite rightly) screwing the punters for what they can get.

Alternatively they've forgotten or are right cheap-skates, so you get cheap diesel-scented flowers from a petrol station and a chinese take-away.

Or, worst of all, you're single and spend the whole day wanting to cry and getting your nose rubbed in it by stupid smug coupled-up idiots who think that a pink card with fluffy hearts on it = love 4eva.

And I would fit into category number three. My argument that this rant has not been brought to you by Bitterness(T) might fall on deaf ears. I would like to think that it's true. I just hate the day.

Comments: Add Your Own.

Subject:	I'm not a stalker. No, honest!
Time:	12:09 am.
Mood:	ecstatic.
Music:	Anything Goes.

So, I've been to see John Barrowman in Aladdin at the Birmingham Hippodrome three times, and then I queued up for two and a half hours in the freezing cold outside Waterstones in Birmingham to get a signed copy of his autobiography 'Anything Goes' (I was no.80 in the queue, the book signing started at 11am and I got in at 11:40; I'd love to know how many people he got through before he had to leave, 'cause the queue behind me was massive!).

And now I'm not going to see him until his concert at the Symphony Hall in April, which due to my addiction seems an age away. I'll be going into withdrawal!! Or I would, if it weren't for the new series of Torchwood, which I've got to tide me over till then!

The following are pictures I took during the three times I waited outside the Hippodrome stage door for him!

( He's so gorgeous! )

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Subject:	And before you ask, of course I cheated!
Time:	11:27 pm.
Mood:	cheerful.
Music:	Someday, Nickelback.

I AM
87%
OPTIMUS PRIME Take the Transformers Quiz

...But not in obvious ways. For example, for the spider question, there wasn't a "Cower in a corner screaming until someone else comes and removes the arachnid from your vicinity" option. So I picked what normally happens, which is that the spider is moved outside (because my dad won't kill them like I ask). So that's not actually cheating then.

My second (more honest) attempt was probably much more true to life, embarrassingly enough:-

I AM
69%
FRENZY Take the Transformers Quiz

Except I'm not as energetic or interesting as Frenzy!

By the way - it's all

digitalnight's fault that I'm obsessed with Transformers!!

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Time:	9:56 pm.
Mood:	drained.
Music:	Cantamus, Fix You.

My feet hate me. I've grown used to it, the agony they cause should I force them into high-heels, the blisters they form in slipper-like sandals that in no way should rub my toes, the uncomfortable throbbing in the heat.

It's the attempts on my life that I don't like.

I've yet to determine if they're suicidal (i.e. they know that if they kill me they also die, being part and parcel of the same mortal body) or if they're just homicidal (and stupid). Yesterday they did their damndest to kill me after I made them walk up to and over Clent Hills to the Vine pub. Admittedly it was slippery, with a lot of loose stones underfoot.

digitalnight slipped herself. I wasn't suspicious when I slipped and fell on my ass. Twice.

But when I managed to trip over a log that I'd seen and roll down a hill, well, that just cries out "foul play".

Well, I'll get my revenge. Just as soon as I work out how to do that without the rest of me suffering too...

Comments: Add Your Own.

Subject:	DigitalNight is a bloody hero
Time:	10:02 pm.
Mood:	giddy.
Music:	Who Says You Can't Go Home, Bon Jovi.

DigitalNight is an absolute star. An angel, a lifesaver, a first class friend.

Getting back to the hotel in Manchester after the Bon Jovi concert had been a nightmare. We'd booked a taxi, but had to wait over one hour for it, after the police cordoned off the area. I was freezing cold by the time it came, as I was wearing only a little top with no sleeves. We found out from the taxi driver that he and others had been completely ripping off customers, charging £40 and even £50 for a short journey. Some who'd had bookings left them stranded after picking up people who gave them higher offers instead. Luckily we 'only' got charged £15 for a £10 journey.

So in Coventry we were desperate to get a firm booking with a taxi for the trip back. The hotel assured us that it was unnecessary, there'd be plenty of taxis, there was a taxi pick-up point a little way from the Ricoh Arena, we'd not need to pre-book. The taxi driver who took us to the Bon Jovi concert assured us the same.

Imagine our surprise and dismay, therefore, when we found out that the situation was worse than in Manchester. We joined a huge queue of people waiting for taxis. The taxi service the hotel had given us the number for refused the booking (after giving us the impression they'd accepted it and were on the way). About 3 taxis came by in an hour - and they were all full.

I was cold, tired, and desperate. DigitalNight was relatively close at hand (still some distance away though). But I knew she was incredibly busy with revision for her exams, and in any case, may already have gone to bed: it was getting late after all. Still, I was cold, tired and desperate. So I rang.

"Heeelloooooooo!!!"
Ok, so it doesn't sound like she was in bed already. Good.
"DigitalNight... are you busy?"
"What, right at this moment?"
"Yeees."
"No. Why?"
Right now one half of my brain was doing cartwheels, never doubting she'd come to the rescue if she could, while the other half beat it mercilessly with a stick - the half that remembered DigitalNight was very busy and what I was about to ask wasn't fair on her. I was cold, tired and desperate, and felt I could live with the guilt.
"Only, me and mom are stranded in Coventry, there are no taxis and we can't get back to the hotel."

Of course she offered to come; I didn't even have to ask. As I said, I never doubted she would. She even brought an A-Z so she could find her way to our hotel, which we had no idea how to get to. She sat with us in Burger King while we waited for the traffic to die down. God knows what unholy hour of the morning it was when she got back home.

She really came through. DigitalNight is an absolute hero, and one helluva friend. Thank you.

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Subject:	Bon Jovi rocks my world
Time:	3:46 pm.
Mood:	jubilant.
Music:	Have a Nice Day, Bon Jovi.

Two Bon Jovi concerts. Two wild nights. Bon Jovi's Have a Nice Day tour came around the UK and we weren't about to miss it! Magnificent performances from the band. Brilliant songs; there's nothing like being one among 60,000 people signing 'Living on a Prayer' at the top of their voices. Wonderful stage too - the lighting was superb. The whole band gave their all, both times I saw them. The concerts were Sunday and Wednesday evenings, and I've only just calmed down enough to write about them.

( Cut for excessive squeeing and much worship of Bon Jovi )

Comments: Add Your Own.

Time:	12:35 am.
Mood:	cranky.
Music:	Indie Rock and Roll, The Killers.

Personality quiz stolen from Norfolkian's LJ.

You scored as Nerdy Girl.

</td>

Nerdy Girl

94%

Loser

81%

Goth

63%

Hippy

38%

Athletic Tomboy

31%

Slut

13%

Preppy Girl

13%

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Subject:	Privacy is something that belongs to other people...
Time:	9:56 pm.
Mood:	pissed off.

I don't hide a lot from my mother. We're pretty darn close, and I wouldn't change that. But I do get pissed off occasionally, when I'm not allowed even the fewest secrets to myself.

I buy something from Amazon and mom isn't happy until she knows what it is (partly because she's waiting for me to buy Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire on dvd). She'll stand behind me while I'm reading an email/livejournal/fanfiction and start asking questions - although I told her off last time she did that, and she's tried to stop doing it.

And she 'tidies' my room. When I say 'tidies', I mean that she seeks out those corners where I have stuffed something I know she probably wouldn't appreciate me having, and having found it, can't let it go without comment. Last time it was my bottles of absinthe. This time it was a video.

A video I had purposely left in a bag, in another bag, underneath some other films and my Jonathan Creek dvd boxset. What I'm saying is, she really had to dig down to find my video of Naked. It's an indie film starring David Thewlis, rated 18 (and rightly so). Not something my mother would appreciate, which is why it was hidden. Grrrrrr.

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Time:	8:00 pm.
Mood:	enraged.

I was wondering how lacking in personality and character I could be following a self-confidence crisis at work. Today I found out. A cold-caller phoned me, and instead of just firmly saying "No" and putting the phone down, I allowed myself to be talked into getting a new mobile phone on a contract I don't want by a pushy little oriental woman who's probably very pleased with herself this afternoon for finally selling something.

Now that's stupidity for you.

At least I managed to write down some important details. Like, how long I have to return the phone and cancel the contract. Not as many important details as they have about me mind you. I could kick myself. Everytime she asked a question I didn't want to answer she just kept on talking at me till I gave in. Sod kicking myself - if anyone else wants to kick me that'd be just fine.

And if anyone sees my spine lying around not being used, please try not to step on it.

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Time:	5:17 pm.
Mood:	depressed.
Music:	A Whiter Shade of Pale, Procul Harem.

I don't know what's happened to me. When I was at school I prided myself on not being a 'sheep'. I never followed the crowd, never tried to be popular, never professed to have the same opinions as everyone else. I was proud to be smart and I was proud to be different, even when being different meant I got picked on and bullied more than my fair share. I probably tried to be more different than I actually was, distancing myself from people I hated.

Then at college I didn't have to try to be different, I had a group of friends and being smart was no longer something to hide. I stopped trying to be different because I could simply be me. I suppose I became less polarised, less of an opposite to others, 'cause there was no need anymore.

Now at work I often feel like I'm back at school. There's a lot of friendly banter and good-natured teasing in the office. But sometimes a couple of the guys get out of hand, and I don't know how to handle it anymore. Often, no matter what the subject is, I can't say anything without being told to "shut up" or more patronisingly, "hush you". I feel like I'm back at school at times, but I can't walk away, or get snappy back. Sarcasm either goes over their heads or gets me accused of being "in a bad mood" (which is guaranteed to be true the minute anyone says it).

These are people who would have been the popular ones at school, or just the ok ones that nobody objected to, and so didn't get picked on. Not 'geeks', or 'nerds', or 'boffins'. Not that they're not smart; most of them have degrees, which I don't have. They're nice people, but I feel inferior to them. Partly because I just do, and partly because one or two of them make me feel that way, however unintentionally.

I never mention things I like. When we go out after work I merely tag along, welcome but not essential company like one or two of the others (if they're not going no one goes); I never instigate anything, or decide where we're going, because I know I'd simply be ignored. When they're raving about something I can't stand I just keep quiet, knowing my opinions are not wanted. I was braver when I was at school, I'd have spoken up. I wasn't afraid of being the dissenting voice then. Why now? It is simply to keep the peace? Or am have I become so cowed now that I don't think my opinions are worth voicing?

And most importantly, what am I supposed to do about it?

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Time:	11:24 pm.
Mood:	annoyed.
Music:	Evanescence, Haunted.

I love my cat, she's a beautiful thing. Pedigree Black British Tipped Shorthair, named Carrie. I love her to bits, but she's getting devious in her older days, and she's not had a good weekend. We had turkey for dinner, Carrie's favourite; it needed cooking last night as well as this morning. As well as driving us to distraction with her constant mewing and clawing at the kitchen doors she climbed on top of the oven to try and get at the turkey inside.

Then today my mom left a strawberry gateau on the kitchen work-surface to defrost for tea. When she walked in the cat was face-down licking the cream off it.

When she got shoved outside Carrie looked like she'd been in a skiing accident. I only wish I'd had my camera handy.

Needless to say, the cat's in the doghouse!

( Cut for picture of Carrie on a better day )

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