bulk :: 15st 9
gym visits :: 2
haircuts :: 1
accusations of misogyny :: 4
misogynistic episodes :: 0
misanthropic episodes :: 12
turning points :: 1
It strikes me as kind of funny how I’m always so keen to seize on certain moments in my life and declare them ‘turning points’ or ‘fresh starts’. It seems I’m desperate to imbue quotidian events and decisions with special significance, perhaps in order to convince myself that I’m actually making some definite progress in life. It strikes me as kind of sad too. But I guess it’s normal. Anyway, here we go again.
I’ve reached a turning point. With this blog. With this life.
A few things have happened recently which have probably affected me more than I was prepared to admit, or more than I even realised. One was the end of my relationship with Morag, and the way I dealt with that. (Badly.) One was the reunion with my newly meek, practically lobotomised father and the fairly fundamental news about my life he finally elected to share. (What is it with people and their inability to communicate?) And one was the arrival of ‘the stalker’. (Shudder.)
Speaking of whom, it was only last week that I realised the full extent of the stalker’s derangement. I reread the comments that they’ve been leaving, and continue to leave, and I realised that there were messages hidden in them. I started to get scared for the first time when I realised there were references to books I’ve read recently. It sent a shiver down my spine. They must have been following me – In Real Life – seen me out and about with my nose in a book. Then I remembered that I’d actually blogged about the books I’d been reading, so probably they’d just been reading the blog. Phew. But then I’ve also blogged about where I live, more or less, and I don’t want to start getting paranoid, but… well, I’ve started getting paranoid.
Added to which, a few people have accused me of changing recently, and not for the better. Thing is, on the whole, I tend to agree. I think I have changed a bit recently. And not for the better. Therefore, before they go too far, things have got to change.
First and foremost, this blog has got to change.
No more deeply personal stuff. From now on I’m going to concentrate solely on life’s trifles. Everyday fancies. Crab sticks and horsefeathers. This blog, I finally realise, is supposed to be where I play. Therefore, I need to start enjoying it properly again – I had stopped recently. Also, importantly, I need to draw a line between this blog and my real life. A thick line. In permanent marker pen.
There’s no harm in the occasional real life anecdote of course, but no more of this blow-by-blow analysis and recounting of personal conversations. No more shall the horrible little midgets of my mind be allowed to crawl out onto my keyboard. It’s not fair on anyone.
I’ve made a lot of stupid decisions over the last year, and I admit, sometimes I feel wholly out of my depth.
And recently particularly, I’ve felt like I’m starting to lose control of this blog. It’s like it’s become a microcosm of my life and losing control of it, even to the relatively small extent I have, is a reflection of a wider-ranging trend.
I need therefore, to wrest back control. Also – for God’s sake, listen to me – me, me, me – what I really need to do is step away from myself a little, create a little distance and engage with the rest of the world, because at the moment I am in grave danger of disappearing up my own arse. And nobody wants that.
So, there we are. I probably won’t be blogging as much as I have in the past, but I hope to be a lot more professional about it.
Fine words butter no parsnips.
Oh, and with reference to Courgettegate, I didn’t really say, ‘I’ve got a woody’. I was just playing. Jesus. What do you think I am?
Don’t answer that. Answer this:
What are you doing this weekend? Anything nice?