You just keep me hanging on

I have been trying really hard on this blog (I always feel gross writing that word) not to moan about the shit I been moaning about for the last few months (read: men) in recent weeks, not cos I don't have stuff to complain about (women be crazy? The MENS be crazy) but I feel like maybe happiness means lying to yourself a bit? Or, not lying exactly, just not wallowing in abject misery all the god damned day long? Maybe? I don't know. Self-delusion and unadulterated joy 24/7 go hand-in-hand has always been my assumption. Perhaps that's where my problems lie, I assume that if I'm happy I've been lying to myself which makes me unhappy. Being the girl-Woody Allen is hard you know?

But actually, having read Prozac Nation in the last couple of weeks and a report from a depressive in the Observer magazine last Sunday I just wonder if, like my inability to ever really get addicted to anything (except the wrong type of guy), despite years of dedicated attempts, means I'm much more normal than I think. Or more balanced at least. I remember the first time I raced through a copy of The Bell Jar and thinking 'shit yeah' which I'm sure all pale skinned middle-class girls who like Lou Reed have thought at one point in their lives but now, I dunno, I'm just not that bad. There's one bit in The Bell Jar which really struck a cord with me, weirdly (or not I guess), it seems to be the bit that gets everyone (including Elizabeth Wurtzel), where she just stops washing her hair because it'll just need to be washed again eventually so what's the point? The effort involved in even thinking about it exhausts her. I've been there before but I've never needed ECT to stop being there. I think never needing ECT is a good indication that I'm not quite the fuck up I'd always assumed.

Anyway, all I'm saying is life is ok and this makes me somewhat nervous. Though I have things I could complain about I now choose not to because I'm not convinced that doesn't make it worse. For now let's concentrate on the good; I really like my job, I really like my extra-curriculars (hiking, podcasting, writing, crafting, and I went swimming for the first time in about year today! It was nice!*), I also don't think I'm such a social retard anymore. Still pretty retarded generally but I'm ok at covering that fact up. Sort of. Except for today when I walked out of a meeting and a woman walks past me, does a double take, turns and goes 'You were in Horizon's!' (our magazine we send out to childcare providers). It was my first taste of fame and I just went 'yeah' and looked away abruptly. Smooth Sazz, real smooth. Though I'm not the only famous person in the family (that's me bro and me mum's patio furniture and decking! Lots Of Love wap in his face).

*Only after Bobbins had talked me through the protocol of the Leisure Centre though. I'm borderline autistic in that, I need to know what to expect before doing new stuff. I don't mind going it alone (for the most part I prefer it) (that is sort of a joke) as long as I know the schemas beforehand. Using public transport in a foreign clime nearly always induces a mild panic attack unless I've been schooled on where to get tickets, how they are validated, which stop to get off at, etc etc. Trying new things is fine as long as there is a long and detailed instruction plan that accompanies that thing.