Big Yellow Taxi

My internet connection has been a bit wonky of late. It connects for a good two minutes at a time then goes cold, then starts up again. My broadband is such an internet tease it deserves everything it gets (especially looking like that). This shouldn’t really be a problem except for the times (and it is a lot of times) when I am suddenly attacked by an overwhelming urge to check on trivia about the actress who plays Julie Cooper (happens more often than you would think) or check to see whether or not I have Swine Flu (apparently if you don’t have any flu-like symptoms you probably don’t have swine flu. Who knew? Certainly not the trained medical professionals who are not adverse to proscribing Tamiflu: ‘the miracle cure that makes swine flu go away at least a day earlier than it would have done anyway! Just like magic!’, to anyone who decides they might want it and flat out lie to get it. Is it just me or does that seem counterproductive in the long run what with the annoying little habit viruses have of mutating and whatnot. Like my man Jeff Goldblum says; ‘life finds a way’. The government should be made aware that that applies to both man-eating dinosaurs and man-killing flu bugs.)

This is a problem. Not indulging every whim. Every thought left unchecked. If I can't look at pictures of David Cross and Amber Tamblyn then what can I do with my down time? Literally nothing. There is nothing else. I've checked. You might suggest I get out in to the sunshine (I retort; 'what sunshine?' and we all Lots of Love until the tears are streaming down our very British weather-chat loving faces), or go see a movie (I retort 'what movies?' and you look at me like I'm a retarted 4 year old and say 'any movie, Pick one' and I say, with the slightest hint of hope in my voice, 'G-Force?' and you go 'Sure. G-Force. I'm sure you'll love that' and I'll smile and start quietly humming to myself because I am too stupid to understand sarcasm and you walk away shaking your head slowly and rolling your eyes).

I just can't really remember what I did before the internet was there. Even if I'm just lounging and want to have a gander at Martin Amis's wikipedia entry and I can't it feels like a little piece of my basic human rights have been denied*. Not that I'm saying I'm like a Burmese political prisoner or anything but, basically, I'm like a Burmese political prisoner. Me and those guys (and girls! Sexist!) have so much in common it's unreal - they're not allowed to watch youtube videos of sharks with penises in their mouths either!) (No-one should be allowed to look at that). I don't remember randomly flicking through the encyclopedia (that is such a lie but I don't want you guys to think I'm a nerd - OMGs you guys don't think I'm a nerd do you? That's it, my life is officially over) (these things are so important) so, how am I supposed to get my random trivia fix? I guess I could read a book (you guys know I can't read!) but what else informs me where I know Rachel from The OC from? (Mona from Friends! How could I forget you?!) I guess, in the words of the world's foremost poet Sandi Thom, 'you don't know what you got till it's gone' (kidding I know that was by Amy Grant really).

*France agrees with me

I saw this

I also have had a hostel owner that looks like Bob Fossil in Prague and spent four evenings in a bar called 'The Peach Pit' (awesomely a Shannon Doherty picture indicated the gateway to the ladies and a Luke Perry picture was used in a similar fashion for the mens).

I've fallen in love with a camp tour guide in Paris and been there for Bastille day without realising it was going on.

I've watched a cat fall in love with my brother in Amsterdam.

I've met a 'Fun Manager' in Krakow (SLACKER JOB ALERT) and had to come to terms with the fact that not all of Poland is a bleak, desolate landscape but is in fact gorgeous and vibrant.

These are just some of my adventures thus far and I'm not even half way round yet.

I am, however, craving being able to not have to get dressed in a toilet with the door locked and sleeping in a room full of strangers. Need. Own. Space.

Learnin's and Ponderin's

What I've learnt from my new job is that:

- I'm in no way over-qualified. A well-organised monkey could do this job. I get to book meetings, plan people's days, take minutes and type them up, all shit like that (I get to play out my secretary fantasies AND have control over other people's lives *orgasmic control freak sigh*) but more than that, *orgasmic geek sigh* I've been given the metaphorical keys to the department's web pages. At the moment it's awful. Not only is it written in a way that means only people with an intimate knowledge of planning rules and regulations would be able to understand it (and, even then, possibly only with a relevant textbook by their side) but there's some insanely obvious spelling and grammatical errors, it's done in a horrible, horrible layout (like, horrible!), and the navigation was obviously concocted by either an evil genius who didn't want people to access the information they need or, and more likely, by a retard. I love making rubbish things prettier (the only thing I'm not good at performing that sort of task on is myself) so, thus far, it's pretty awesome (in a 'I'm only going to be here for five months so let's enjoy this ride while it lasts' kind of way).

- My boss is weird but not weird and creepy as my first impressions had indicated. His weirdness is the weird I can appreciate rather than fear, plus he's got the corniest sense of humour ever which I never not love.
Token example:
Me: 'How many people work here?'
Him: 'About half of them'
Me: [slightly incredulous giggle that anyone still uses that joke]
Him: 'I've been waiting for you to ask me that all week so I can say that'
Which is what made me decide I'm in. He's my kind of people.

- Middle-aged women moan. A lot. They also have a tendency to bitch. A lot. Now, yeah, I know I know, moaning and bitching are indeed two of my favourite past-times. But when it's other people doing the moaning then it's really fucking annoying. It's every single day with the same complaints about the work and the same snarky comments about the same people. Ours is not a united team. There's office politics and back-stabbing and game-playing (it's like a low-key, parochial version of All the President's Men or something) but above all else, there's moaning and there's bitching. I'm fairly sure there's been openly hostile discussions about whether or not I deserve my job and my pay grade taking place in front of my desk (doesn't really bother me if they are because, to be fair, they have a point) but what really annoyed me today was that one of them tried to get me to say that I don't think grown women should wear pink - on the day that another woman in the office was wearing this BRIGHT pink sweater-dress. Now, in the normal order of things I would raise an eyebrow to myself but chick can actually pull this outfit off in a trashy extra-from-Melrose-Place sort of way but, to be honest, when all is said and done, I don't give a shit if she wants to wear pink. No, I never would, but if anyone else does then what do I care? Admittedly there are some fashions that do offend me greatly but, although I will point it out I won't point it out to someone I hardly know and I certainly wouldn't mention it in earshot of anyone who happened to be making that horrific sartorial crime at the time. Especially not if I had to work with them everyday. Especially if I then spent most of the afternoon (and pretty much every weekday afternoon) bitching WITH THAT PERSON about someone else in the office (who's crime is talking too quickly. For the love of Jesus. H. Christ people I can't even... I just... I mean, really. Come on.) It's too much. I can't cope. I now understand why a lot of the 'younger' crowd listen to mp3 players all day. To drown out the droning of the middle-agers.

I think why it's getting to me is that I don't want to end up like them. I don't want to blink and have 15 years go by and realise that for all that time I've been in the same job, working with the same people, and never really enjoying it, or never even really stopping to question whether I enjoy it or not and doing it anyway. There's something to be said for being content, for finding your niche, and just existing. It's a lot easier to exist than to really live. Thing is, I am quite content at the moment, with my life, and my job, and my friends. I have my short-term and long-term goals but who knows if I'll ever have the drive to really follow through on those? And the minute that thought pops into my head I get scared and I get kind of angry with myself. Because I don't just want to settle, even if that's the easiest and most rational option out there. About six months ago I was subjected to a conversation between two guys, one a little older than myself and one older by around ten years. They were indulging in a self-congratulatory discussion that went something along the lines of how society has all these rules it lays out for about how you should be living your life and if you don't conform to it then you're made to feel like you've 'failed' the life test in some way. Particularly in respect of the fact that everyone is always expected to have career goals and couple-up yet they were content with their jobs as is and were really happy being single yet were almost expected to apologise for this fact. Weirdly, I'm sure I've said all of those things (and more) at one time or another, yet I walked away from hearing all that feeling like I being personally attacked. It took me a while to figure out why it got to me so much, when, to all intents and purposes, and certainly to a lot of people who know me, I agreed with them. But after a roll-up (or fifty) I arrived at some conclusions (by the by I haven't smoked for like a month... nothing that counts anyway... I stopped enjoying it which happens from time-to-time. Perversely, I think it's negatively affected my writing. Smoking gives me this time-out where I'm really forced to think, not just about my problems but about my day generally. The number of 'start-up' sentences that have come to me out of the ether all thanks to a cancer stick... still not really bothered about smoking at the moment though so we'll all just have to carry on and hope for the best where my writings are concerned). But anyway, for the goals, that was fairly obviously a dig at me because I do have them. The life they lead where they're working to live rather than living to work... I don't want that. For some people, yes. For me, no. I don't want to do a job just to get a paycheck at the end of the month. I want to be inspired and passionate about how I get to spend the majority of my day. I understood what they were saying about how a job can just be a job. It shouldn't define you or shape you. It shouldn't no, but the trouble is, it does. And yes, thinking about the future rather than living in the present can be a sad way to live - you never really stop to smell the roses, it's always about moving 'onwards and upwards' but if you don't think about the future then that's when you end up doing the freaky-ass blinking trick and suddenly realise that, although your life aged 25 was awesome and you loved it, it loses something when you're still living the same life aged 40. Change is inevitable, most of the time you can't plan for it, but not planning anything at all is foolish in the extreme.

The single thing, yes I'm still wretched and alone. Recently I thought that maybe that might be rectified - without me having to compromise and settle for something less than spectacular - but nothing ever really came of it in the end. What can I say? I get the feeling that maybe the idea of the Sazz is a lot more attractive than the reality of the Sazz (although in the last six months I've been re-connecting with an ex who is interested in getting involved in my life and learning what I'm all about now... which, were ye cynical, makes it sound like he's just trying to get into my pants but I really don't think he is. Regardless, he's made me realise that although airy-faerie idea Sazz is pretty awesome, reality Sazz has some good points too). However, that's not really here nor there. I also like being single, I like being selfish, I like that I have nothing, ostensibly, tying me down. For the last two years I've been one of the most passionately anti-relationships people around. People in relationships are boring and act stupid and compromise - not just on small things like, agreeing to do the washing up to keep the peace, but on who they fundamentally are as a person. Yes, I get offended if people in relationships pity me and think that I can't ever really know happiness until I've found 'the one' but, regular sex notwithstanding, there are good things about having a relationship. It's weird for me to admit that but it's was even weirder for me to have arrived at that conclusion as it only happened because I was listening to other people speak the words that I'm the one normally speaking. It's just that they made me realise how utterly extremist it all sounded. See, the thing about extremists, whether they're just determindly single or members of al-qaeda, they're generally deluded about everything, but most importantly, themselves. They go too far because they're always having to defend their beliefs or their choices (this, to be fair, probably doesn't apply as much to the al-queda camp. If you are in the al-queda network and were hoping to get some insights into your psychological make-up then I don't think it's going to happen here. Sorry. I'm good but I'm not that good). Allowing yourself to fall in love and be changed by another person is a good thing. It's kind of one of the big indicators for knowing you're a healthy adult. Having said that, it pisses me off to see people staying together for years and years and making one another unhappy just because they're scared of being alone, or those people that may get out of an unbearable relationship only to jump back in with someone else a few months later (I really don't see how these people can think they understand love because, as far as I know, it happens so very rarely and is so fucking fragile that to believe each new person is 'the one' is retarded at best). Mostly because people like that (and alas, I reckon they are the majority of relationshippers) are the ones who fuel the fire of the extremist-singelers. That, and the only singletons that are represented in any kind of public way are the ones who are desperate to be with someone. Desperation is never ever ever an attractive trait and if that's what we're all stereotyped as being then hell yeah, certain single people are going to rally and rail against that conception. But to what end? Just to fool oneself. I think the key thing is, I don't want a boyfriend. I don't even mind being alone, in fact, I actively like it so to give that up, to make that sacrifice it would have to be for someone pretty fucking special. However, I would be willing to make that sacrifice - in theory at least. So, to sum up, the extremist single-for-life-yo lobby are the ones that made me not want to be single for life. Irony is a dish best served ironically. And with a raised eyebrow.

Lesson 1 of 5789 in 'being kind of lame at life'

I haven't written anything for an inordinately long time but having archived all my old blog posts with the idea of finally ridding myself of the shackles of myspace* and having read through all those aforementioned old blog posts (and maybe doing a little tidying up of grammar, spelling, general rubbishness - making me somewhat of a Winston Smith figure but less oppressed and more nerdy) I've realised that maybe this is something I don't completely suck at so maybe, just maybe, I should start writing again. So I set up this sparkly, shiny, happy, brand new blog address and tried to write things about my day. My new days where I'm no longer in Guildford, no longer an undergrad, and no longer getting stoned and-slash-or drunk every evening. And I tried to write. And then I walked away from the computer. And then I came back to the computer and looked through lots of facebook groups. Then I joined some of those groups. Then I felt a little sick with myself that I was using facebook groups to define my identity (and similarly judging others on the groups they had chosen to join). Then I tried writing again. Then I gave up and forgot all about it for weeks (until now you lucky lucky people).

Trouble is, what to write about when you've literally done nothing for the last two months. Oh there's been the occasional trip to the cinema, perhaps the odd jaunt to a friends' (I do have them you know) (just not very many of them) house, a day trip to a theme park (when I am made Emperor of the world then rollercoaster will be my preferred method of transportation - impractical yes but I'm intending to go down the wacked-out-lunancy route of leadership), buying coral-coloured short shorts in toweling fabric to make the art of lounging all the easier and infinitely more white trashified. Well, you get the general idea. When people discuss the decline of civilisation, how the youth of today are wastrels and fat and lazy and incompetent, they're pretty much describing me. I'm the poster girl for 'being kind of lame at life'.

However, last night I did finally make it out to the pub. I'd forgotten what it is to wake up with the 'fuck, why do I have to be such a twat in public?' feeling. This is not the sort of thing that bothers a hermit. A hermit's biggest worry is 'who am I going to manipulate into going to the shops and picking me up some orange juice and cereal?' (and therein lies the reason that hermitcy is often such an attractive proposition for me, I can do the manipulation just fine. I can do the 'dealing with life' thing less fine). But still, whatever, I made it out of the house. Left the quiet comfort of the safe zone with it's toweling short shorts and Harry Potter books** and Project Runway shows. Despite the fact that too much Kronenbourg makes Sazz a little pretentious chatterbox, the fact remains that I got out into the public sphere and laughed and giggled and, more importantly, survived the whole experience intact. Go team me.

Now, having got through all that, here's some internet treats for y'all:

Watch this.

Listen to this.

Read this.

Have satirical fun with this.

Make this and this (and become as obsessed with the whole site as I am).


*Which I still haven't quite summoned up the courage to do. Yeah I know. I hate myself enough for the both of us so don't bother.

**I've literally just started reading them. I love them. It be rare that a pop culture phenomena escapes me quite so completely and for such a long amount of time (with the exception perhaps of Dan Brown's output, where I would actually rather rip my toenails off with rusty pliers than subject myself to his writings... unfair to judge without ever having read it? Ok. Yes. But I ain't changin' my mind on this one sunshine. Call it a hunch).