Sunday, 11 January 2015

Bothering to get to know someone is a fine art.

'A closed book' describes me pretty accurately as a person. My twitter bio (is there anything of more merit in today's society?) reads "as sardonic and sarcastic as ever".. and that's what I am. A shy, aloof, possibly rude, definitely cynical, 24 year old.
I don't open myself to people very often, if at all. A habit that has got me into some pretty dire situations in the past. I just don't feel the need to like or be friends with everyone. I'll tolerate you, I'll acknowledge you..ignorance isn't my style truth be told.
But you'll see very little of me, unless I like you.

I met someone in recent times. Much older than me, world's apart. And I felt something. Not going into romantic aspects or sexual attraction or even plain physical attraction - I felt something. Like we shared things in common. Shit, we DID share things in common. Something which is fucking rare in my world..and something which I treasure. Sense of humour, interests, and the fact that I felt comfortable enough to talk about personal things with this person in pretty early days.. speaks volumes for me. We talked all day, basically every day.. for months. I didn't wanna let this person go. Fuck. I wanted them in my life. 


You know when you see, or hear, or read something somewhere and you immediately wanna share it with a certain person. Like, you just know they'd love it too, or appreciate it or whatever. I had so many instances of this. Music, history articles I'd read online, funny stories or bits and pieces from my own life.. I wanted to tell him about it all.
Hell, I did foolish things like care when it was his birthday or I'd send him thoughtful presents and shit.


But it gets to the stage where your offerings are just piling up. Unanswered.
And I suppose then you should take the hint. They don't care. 

I guess I realised that rather than wanting to be my friend, this person had simply been nice to me. I'd been a victim of his compassion..something, as he told me once, he prides himself on.
Silly me. 

So, he is barely in my life. Which makes me sad, it really does. 
I still think of our conversations - about our childhood, where we grew up, religion, our favourite historical periods, politics, bands we both liked, films and a shared dirty sense of humour.. but did it ever really matter?

Life gets in the way sometimes, I get it. And I'm the worst when it comes to texting back or whatever.. but there's a definite difference between busy and this.

Bothering to get to know someone is a fine art. I guess some people get bored sketching.

Monday, 6 October 2014

Age Appropriate Behaviour?

This tweet by Anna Kendrick is over 6 months old. But as soon as I saw it, a very loud "I KNOW RIGHT?"escaped my lips. I couldn't help but identify with her so I took a screenshot.
And its stuck in my head ever since.

She may be five years older than me, but I still feel like the odd one out.
People I went to school and university with seem to have it all worked out. Full-time careers, marriage, kids, their own houses. What is this growing up crap?

It still, as Anna put it, blows my mind that at 23 I'm not exactly thaaaat young to have a kid or two.
At this age, my mam had been married a year, had a little baby on the way in a few months and had been living with my dad in their first little house since the wedding.
I have none of that. This is a woman who had a joint 18th and engagement party. I can't even get my mind around that.
I don't even have a boyfriend for christ's sake. Would I feel hella different if I did? Perhaps.


Is all this something I should be wanting?
What is age appropriate behaviour for someone at my age?


Chandler: I'm 29. I want to sit in a comfortable chair and go to bed at a reasonable hour!
Joey: And I want to go to a quiet place and just talk with my friends.
Ross:Yeah! And so what if at the end of a hard day I like to kick on some Kenny G and take a bath.
Joey: Dude, we're 29. We're not women

I know I don't want all the teenagery stuff anymore. Drinking is a necessary evil. But one I rarely really indulge in. I don't want to go to Ibiza and get off my tits either.
I feel like I've kinda bypassed all that. I don't wanna go to a club, I wanna go somewhere I can talk and sip on something fizzy. 

To be honest, going out in general doesn't really appeal. I'm quite happy staying home with the television or a good book. Washing my hair, having a glass of wine and eating my weight in custard creams.
So what age am I?
The eternal singleton..destined to die, fat and alone, and be found three weeks later half-eaten by alsatians.... oh no, not another Bridget Jones reference.
Oh bugger.



Sunday, 5 October 2014

'Coffee, Cigarettes and Deadlines for Breakfast'

Before I got myself a 'real job'. Writing was all I did. Freelancing. A lot of the time for free, and only some of the time for any cash..sad, but true.
I lived on my (considerable) savings and on the kindness of my parents - who I still lived with up until May this year. 

When writing was all there was.. coffee, cigarettes and deadlines were all I consumed and put out.
Back in February, I was over in Montreal on a 'life break' of sorts. And that is literally all my days were. Waking up to two black coffees in quick succession, a cig and then getting down to writing up the article I had to have in.. or catching up  the artist/band whoever I was interviewing that week..on some badly planned transatlantic call.

I work well under pressure. If I have to have something done in a short space of time - it does me. I like the researching. The composing of the questions.. and then the total derail the conversation with that person actually takes. You always end up talking about things you'd never think. Cups of tea, and what they're having for lunch and who in the industry they fucking hate. Over and over. I love it.

It sounds a bit monotonous. I guess it kinda is. But that is what I wish was still my life.
Getting up and going out to clock in at work and deal with the public.. really isn't me. I'm not half bad at it, but its not me. 
I like the idea of being free to wake up when I choose. To leave the house only and when I choose. And to live my life around a deadline rather than a working day of 9-5..(or 12-9 in my case)

Coffee, cigarettes and deadlines for breakfast actually sounds pretty appealing.
And I wasn't hungry anyway.

Saturday, 4 October 2014

When life gets in the way..

I haven't blogged in an obscene amount of time. And that's not to say I haven't been writing. I have. Just not in the amount or frequency that I'd have liked. 
I write everyday. Whether it be notes on my phone or scribbles down in my diary. But recently, it seems like 'life has got in the way'.
The 'life' that most of us have to have.. namely a job that pays the bills. I work somewhere good, with people that are even greater.. but at the end of the day, it isn't what i want to do. it isn't my raison d'etre. Not even a little bit.
And when the end of the week comes, and I've worked 40 hours.. do I have the energy to sit down and blog? Getting in at nearly 10pm - I don't even have the energy to make myself a proper meal half the time.

But even though this job has given me new friends, and a good consistent wage at the end of every month - I feel like I'm losing myself ever so slightly. 
Not writing. Not having the time. And it makes me sad.

I'm still in a strange place. Mentally. I'm better than I was, but I still ruminate on the past. That is my biggest and/or worse flaw. I find it hard to let go of things and to find closure. And the worse thing is, I can recognise it in myself. I know that I do it.. and yet it still continues. Especially if I've had a bit of wine or something to that effect. 

But today is the end of it. I'm sat here on my third sick day off work (caught a lovely bug that's left me unable to eat or drink and pretty much contagious to anyone within a metre of me).. and I'm stopping it. I've said it now and its out in the world.

Leave the past. Just leave it Catherine.
And fucking write once in a while.

Tuesday, 1 July 2014

"Only the good die young"

I've thought long and hard about writing this piece. I've started it and restarted it.. left it for weeks on end. The point is, I don't want to be morbid. But death is a pretty morbid subject, isn't it?
I chose that particular quote for the title as it is regularly banded around - true or not - I think, as a coping mechanism. Something people use to justify why a person might pass 'before their time', before they've really lived their lives.. still as innocent souls.

This year so far has seen several people I know pass away at an incredibly young age.. and an age very close to my own. Each of their own different, but all too tragic causes. It would be strange not to question one's own mortality.. and this has certainly been the case for me.

I recently found this saying..
and it gives me solace yet makes me sad all the same.
They will not grow old, they will stay as they were in our minds and hearts. They won't get to experience the rest of their lives, of growing old and moving on. They live in our memories as the 20-somethings they were. Its a lovely, yet sad image.
If I died tomorrow, would I be happy with my 23 and a half years on Earth? Have I made people proud.. have I made myself proud? Have I done the things I wanted to? They didn't have the choice..their lives were taken from them suddenly. Without warning. Without prior knowledge. Here today, gone tomorrow.

It is a shocking reminder of just how fragile life is. It makes me feel odd. Not scared exactly, but more like I want to wrap everyone I know and love in cotton wool and never let them go.
Everyone has their time, but why should someone be taken from us in their early 20's? In their prime?
It didn't make sense to me, and it still doesn't. 
The unfairness of it is still very tangible.
I can't believe any of them are gone. One person in particular was such an charismatic soul.. the sort of person you would imagine outliving us all.. but he didn't.
And I still can't get my head around it.

I'm not here to upset anyone so I'm not naming names - but it feels like the small town I grew up in has been cursed recently. Its not even an exaggeration to say that someone seemed to be dying suddenly every week. It scared me. It still does.

Its not wrong that when you're in your 20s you pretty much think you're invincible. Fresh out of your teens - you've got years to sort yourself out and find out who you are and make something of your life. But what if you haven't? What if you don't wake up tomorrow?
Fuck.

My life the past couple of years has been a bit of a mess. Plans falling through, minds changing, health failing.. amongst other things. Its made me question myself and my priorities.. and while I'm definitely in a better place than I was - I'm still not there. 
Its not that I feel a pressure to get myself sorted, like there's some kind of ticking clock.. but these events have been a UNgentle reminder (or kick up the backside) to reevaluate my life.. to look at what I really care about. Prioritise. 
Degrees and grades and money don't really matter.
Happiness and being content does.

I need to stop trying to prove myself to every man and his dog and just do things for myself. Do things that make ME happy and that I enjoy.
Live my life.. and bloody well like it.

I will never forget each and every one that has gone in these last few months. I hope you're in a better place. I hope that's true. 

See you again soon.