Turn Again!

Now really I'm still picking myself up.  I think I've happened upon an important clue as to why I am how I am. 


Essentially, I do not change.  I think this is mostly down to being autistic again, but I am more or less the same person I was the best part of half a decade ago.  How can that be?  Does it show strength of character or an inability to adapt?

I'd argue against an inability, because here I am still alive, still going doing things I never thought I'd be able to.  I'm not just surviving, I am (with some effort) actually thriving down here.  The problems only start when I get a bit down.  I'm a massive over-thinker, and I worry.  I worry about worrying.  I worry more than you could possibly imagine.  Being hyperactive has its downside here, as I can get more thinking done is less time.  It's remarkable.

This is great when I'm busy.  If I have a lot on my plate I have a lot to occupy my mind, and that is a fine thing, obviously.  However.  When I'm not terribly busy, like...well, right now, it can get a bit funny in here.  In an absence of activity I run out of things to think about, and start to invent nightmare scenarios that I then convince myself are true!  That people aren't interested in talking to me, that nobody ever wants to see me again...just stupid things like that really... Well, I start there and continue.  One thing in particular that haunts me dreadfully is that my uncle will die while I'm at work.  Real work at the stall, not this fake work at the desk.  I know he will eventually go, but he won't go until it's time.  Just sometimes, on a dark day, I can't help it.

This spills over into my relationships as well.  As far as I've come in my social interactions, and I am become quite a social animal now, this is my biggest stumbling block, the next thing to overcome.  It all stems from my low self-esteem, which while it's the highest it's ever been, is still mercilessly terrible.  I no longer see the Monster in the Mirror, but I still doubt myself terribly.  I convince myself that I am not good enough as a human being, and hold on to it.  I don't know why!  I know it's ridiculous but I clasp this idea beyond anything else sometimes.

And it makes everything worse.  It puts strain on everything I do, and everyone I talk to, because I bear this self-imposed curse.  I interpret social cues all wrong, and it puts other people on edge around me, which I then sense and take badly.  This makes me feel even worse, and thus we have a vicious circle.  It makes me needy and suffocating, and I've finally realised this.  This character fault must be worked through and got over.

Obviously, this has to change as well.  There's been so much change recently that I'm in need of some familiarity to help comfort me.  This is the first summer since the end of VIth form that I haven't gone home for the Vacation.  You may think nothing of it, but it's a big deal to me.  My Girlfriend gets to be on holiday too, and the amount of evenings and weekends that I haven't been able to see her has made me less than happy. 
I've taken to sitting in my garden (if you can call it a garden) and doing at least an hour's worth of Banjo practice of an evening, which is really a fine use of my time.  My fingers are being cut to shreds by the strings, which is of course the point.  I haven't restrung in over a year now, and the low C is getting very dicky, but I'm not sure if I'm going to string this Banjo up again!  I have the serious I-wants for an upgrade, which at £400 will take some serious saving.  It's between that and the holiday fund as the next financial project.

I hate change though.  Change makes me feel uncomfortable, like I lose a foundation.  I worry about it, and then try to plan obsessively around it so I only have to change as little as possible.  What must happen though, is a stop to this.  There must dawn a new age of Pebblez, or I will get left behind.  And that I cannot afford.

There's no need to change my character, but there is a need to change my ways, and amend how I act and think.  I still don't really know how to relax, and that's a major problem as well.  I'm not entirely sure how we'll do anything about that, but we'll see.  Who knows!  Maybe putting some hard work into relaxing will pay off!

Every cloud...

Let's get this straight.  I am in a poor state.

 

Long time readers and fans of the Captain everywhere will know that as an unmedicated depressive, I often have the odd episode of... a less than satisfactory mood.  This has been happening for years and years, possibly longer than I care to remember.  I know VIth form was bad at times, and we all know that my second year was dreadful... I am coming clean about my overall experience slowly but surely for that year; I cannot use my account as the emotional battering ram that you might expect, usually because it backfires straightaway.  I doubt I'll write about it so directly for a while, it's still a bad time.  I still feel the echoes even now, but what can you expect from someone who eschews both councelling and medication?

 

I knew something was the matter yesterday morning, when I started to write about my new environment.  No, I haven't moved house thank God, more that I have purchased built and made a double bed in my room in The Scholary.  A Double Bed!  Turns out 4' 6" is a lot wider than you imagine.  I got it for £50, delivery included from a gentleman in Redruth.  Purchased Sunday previous, and awoken in for the first time yesterday, I don't think I've done too badly.  It is... strange.  Having lived with a single bed for some 22 years, the readjustment is staggering!  I know many of you may have had doubles for a long time now, but this is very new to me; comfort is an odd concept.  But, it is the bed that Peb built.  I earned it, I payed for it with my own money, and I deserve it. 

 

One day, I will believe that last thought.

 

However.  Just what is the matter with me?  Assessing my position logically leads us only to confusiuon: Accomodation, employment, amazing relationship.  The three things that I've been after for so long now.  Really, under all this, I'm the happiest I've ever been.  While I may not have a megabucks job, waiting tables isn't really all that bad, and after all, it's a living.  My house, is of course The Scholar's Palatial Apartments, in the shadow of the East End.  It will always need a hell of a lot of work doing, but it's home now, especially after my furniture shuffle in my room.  And the girl?  Well, I'm not going to say anything more than she's really the best thing ever.  She has the kindest heart I know, and the only woman I respect more than her is my mother (I am a good Jewish boy, after all).  I can rely on her to clip my ear when I get silly, if only I myself could drop things as easily as I should.  I'm still working on it.  Promise.  Of course, my best work is always ahead of me.

 

 

I've all but lost my appetite, and I don't understand.  Perhaps the solution lies somewhere in my disability?  As an autist, I rely on routines and knowing where my boundaries are.  I've completely lost all my usual routines, and even changed my environment.  This change is massive put together, far bigger than I'm used to.  I also don't really have a 'holiday mode' as such, never having really gone on the things.  Had I have swapped my room in term, with services every day (my default mode of being), I would have taken it easily.  Something as simple as no evensong has upset me, obviously.  My new financial regime that I have had to impose to curtail my monetary ruin is a complete turn around as well.  This isn't as easy as saying that I have over-estimated my own strength, like that time I started working at Truro School; this is a change with more necessity behind it.  I can no longer afford to bum about in the nether regions of my overdraft, and at least working my way out is better than simply being on the Dole. 

 

Working what is technically 6 days a week is hardly exciting though.  I'm going to have to seriously reconsider this job once Choir term starts again, as working seven days a week will be a serious drain.  But...maybe that's what has to happen in order to improve my finances.  I'm not looking forward to it one bit, especially as I'll be working indoors all the time as well. 

 

 

As I've written this, I've actually started to feel better.  Just a little bit maybe, but still.  I've been on the phone to both my mother and my lady, both of whom in their unique and effective ways have chided me and got me to keep this pitiful chin of mine up.  I've come so far even in this past month alone, let alone the past year.  To err is only human; to admit divine.  To fail now though would be the end.  To pick the fight up again is more a personal hallmark, but sometimes tradition is what you need.  I feel pretty ashamed for allowing my depression to get the better of me at any time, and especially right now.  I think getting it all down has helped: being able to review in such a manner is helping me to think that I am just being ridiculous, and with a some corrective effort I can pull this up with a minimum of discomfort. 

 

Not everything can be easy every day, and I can't be happy all the time.  I need to stop taking it out on myself when I'm not though; not every little thing can be my fault.

Tonight's plan involves some kind of food - I may treat myself to a takeout of some description to help pick me up.  Other than that, quality time with my Banjo in the garden calls out to me.  I put a good two hours into practicing my Bach suite yesterday, and my callouses are holding up just fine now. 

 

Hiatus

 

Now at the final review before publishing, I do feel much better.  I've eaten, I've made the bed, I've made peace.  I'll need some serious chutzpah back soon, if only there was some sort of fast track?  Aha, nothing's ever that easy though, is it?  I've got far better things to do than mope.  This may well be a burst of a good mood, but I must make sure that it is not brief.  As ashamed as I am of not being with it today, I have to move on.  There really is no point dwelling on it, I know, but it is difficult for me to drop things.  But I must, and I will.  

 

How else will I see that paisley lining?

Part Timer

So, another working week draws to a close.  This one has been less tiring physically, but not easy emotionally, and I learn to find another way.

This week has been out of kilter; I missed out Monday but came up smiling on Tuesday, in time for my first day on front of house at the Cathedral Restaurant.  Monday's timetable was slightly different, being used primarily as recovery from putting a rather large amount of alcohol inside myself in a short space of time.  The City Inn, a fine establishment in Truro will, for a price, serve ale from the tap in two pint glass Steins.  In the equation of Pebblez plus Steins multiplied by Doom Bar, we know that the only answer is Inebriation.

On Tuesday, the Boy left.  Yes, Barrett my one time nemesis to full time sidekick finally left the building, to depart on his summer of European travel.  God bless and God speed.  We had an emotional and public goodbye in the Restaurant, as thankfully (for him at least) he arrived before the busy time kicks off.  I miss him a lot, actually.  For all the mess that was made, all the arguing about budgets, however much I wanted to wipe him off the face of the Earth when he told me what to do... I do miss him a hell of a lot.  He'll be back!  I mean, he promises to return for a week over Old Choristers' (whether he will stay for that long is another question), and the Good Old Days can return.  Right?

The rest of the Scholars have been peeling off in their own time.  Our Organ Scholar left on Wednesday morning, Mr. McCusker went last night...which only leaves Mr. Lock to go on Sunday.  After that, it's just me and the Beeves...until September.  Now, the living arrangements still as I type aren't completely secure.  At some point, a minor redecorative event is supposed to be happening in the Scholary, which we're supposed to be absent for.  I think it might be a case of seeing what happens when we get there, and not having any clue beforehand.  Best not say any more before I get myself into trouble either.

Currently though my part time working arrangement is going well.  If anything, I could do with more hours to get out of that overdraft quicker, but if I keep to my new budget regime I should be okay... just about.  My plan to install a double bed into my room will have to not touch my Bank account at all, or it'll never happen, as will neither my proposed holiday plan...which hasn;t been discussed properly yet anyway.  That's another big maybe that's a long way off, but if I prepare for it now I can make it seriously easier.  I'll probably have to keep a little brown paper bag under my matress or something for the bed fund (stay the hell away from my matress you hear.)  What I could really do with is an infallible get rich quick scheme, or a significant pay rise.  Alright already!  So could we all!

I've had to seriously rethink my money though.  I'm exceedingly close to the bottom of my overdraft, and need to make some real progress.  It's...difficult.  I looked at the cost of my phone bills for the last 6 months and almost had a heart attack over the appearance of a charge of some £91 a few months ago... Oy Vey!  I am going to actually have to be careful this time.  My latest bill is for a fair 52 quid anyway, so I'm only at twice my contract this month, right?  Ouch.  I need to be careful now, because unlike for the last however many years now there won;t be a Student loan to pick me up in September.  There is no termly cash drop to keep me from trouble.  I have to work now in order to afford to eat, basically!  If I even dared another night out between now and pay day I'll be doomed!  Now my back's up against the wall I am going to have to turn this one right around...which I should have been doing for ages now but I am after all, a fool.

This is the real character building excercise though, I can't run away now.  I've got people to make proud of me again, people who want to see me thrive and succeed, and I can't let them down!  I'll always have myself, let down or not...

...But in fact, that attitude is part of my problem.  Allow me to explain.

My Girlfriend has gone to Italy for a week with her Wind Band.  Well, I say a week.  It's more like 4 days there and the rest travelling.  I am missing her so much right now, it's awful.  It's made worse by the fact that so many people are leaving Truro at the moment anyway, I could do with her being a little closer at least, but I can't win all the time.  I know she's coming back, and the birthday surprises I have in store have been well-planned.  

Whenever I've taken trips away from girlfriends (or vice versa) I've always gone slightly mad, and got a bit needy.  The problem is not that I don't believe that they won't want me still, just that I tell myself that they will see something better than me if I am away, and I'll lose out.  Again.  I tell myself that I'm just not good enough.  I worry and I waste away and I pine and whimper and it's just not very good at all, really.  I've done it for years as well, I hardly know any better.

I am turning this around.  It's very hard.  

I know, heart and soul and strength that there's nobody out there who feels the way I do about her.  Imperfect and crippled I may be, but I'm a Bright, and I always do my best and I never give up.  That's what I am.  Who I am, on the other hand, I am remembering very slowly, and it's down to her that I am, with the right amount of tender support and affectionate chastisement that I need to know I'm doing well.  I haven't given up before, I don't intend to start doing so now.  I know that one day, we'll be very far apart, maybe through accident of employment or education, but it won't matter.  It'll still be us two, together.  I know this.  I almost believe it.  Trust me, I'm trying and God does love a tryer.

Onwards though!  I have a new budget plan, and a job that pays.  Living through this summer won't be cushy, but it'll be a life that I'll have earned the funds for by myself, and that's something to be proud of.  I've done a budget forecast for the next quarter (!), and if I stick to it I'll have made a net gain of some £1200.  I'll be...comfortable! 

Tales of new Employment

So it's all change again.  I'm not coming back to Derby, and I'm not unemployed!  BOOM.

For the last week, I have been working as the Kitchen Porter at the Cathedral Restaurant.  I seriously and wholeheartedly believe that this is not a job designed for one person; more that it is a sore test for those who do not know what hard work is.  Over this week I have earned some two hundred pounds, and have work lined up for the whole of the summer.  Over the course of the Vac, I'll need to vacate my house for some ten days only but that's about it.

Here are some things that I have learned this week:

! - The Dishwasher truly is my mortal enemy.
" -  The Squares of Ashoni was the best training for plate stacking.
£ - Full trays from tables dumped on the deck are the bane of everything.
$ - The smell of Carrot and Coriander soup makes me want to brech.
% - If you don't ask for a break you'll never get one, regardless of the legality.
^ - Once the cutlery goes through the machine is is literally HOTTER THAN THE SUN.
& - Having a mostly Guinness and Jager based hangover will not help.
? - The sight of the pass closing can cheer the lowest of hearts.

Monday was insane.  Like, actually mental.  I've been burnt less in baptisms of fire already!  (Actually I never truly got burnt, but did scald myself with the ROASTING HOT CUTLERY).  Interestingly enough, as allergic as I am to hard work... I haven't been put off totally.  I always used to (and continue) to say that once I'm done with all this music rubbish, I'll train as a chef.  Where does every one start?  At the Porter's station.  

It's not great, by any stretch of the imagination, but not awful.  There is still a sense of achievement even when all the tables get cleared at once and all the plates ever appear in your immediate vicinity.  I only dropped one plate all week, but sadly also knocked the handle off a teapot.  Sad times.  

Tuesday was just as bad, but I arguably got a bit more help.  On Wednesday I decided that the only way to keep the pot wash room sane was to put away dry stuff myself, which once again considerably sped the process up.  Thursday was slightly marred by the addition of midnight prosecco to celebrate Mr. Barrett's 19th birthday, but still remarkably busy.  The soup was very popular.  Not so much Carrot and Coriander but Carrot and Crack Cocaine.

Friday was definitely the quietest.  I even managed to get a whole 15 minutes off where I conversed with my disasterously hungover housemate and bought lunch from the Co-op, rob dogs that they are.  Anyway, even with a whole quarter of an hour off, I managed to get almost everything finished in time for 4pm!  How exciting!

However.  Working 9:30 til 4 every day has left me drained and somewhat irritable, and in bad shape for evensong.  Granted this won't be a problem from next week onwards, what with this Sunday being the last services of the year, but seeing as these were some pretty hardcore services (Monday Howell's St. Paul's, Tuesday Langlais Messe Solennelle, Wednesday Leighton 2nd Service and Friday Tallis Lamentations), I can;t help but feel like I let the side down a bit by just being so tired.  Granted, I wasn't falling asleep at the end of the Nunc Dimittis like I was when I worked at Truro School, but there we go...

The long Vac stretches out before me.  I have a month of employment ahead of me before I even consider August.  But there will be rest for the wicked at some point, and it's my girlfriend's birthday at the end of this month, which I have been preparing for at least a month now.  I had to make sure everything would work out if I wasn't staying in Cornwall, see, but now I am I have some extra wiggle room, as it were.   All I'm really going to say about her now is that things are so much different than ever, and I don't ever need to panic any more.  Oh.  And she's marvellous.  And short.*  But that's enough for now.  

Now, presumably I'm going to do some laundry or wash up in the kitchen now, I suppose.










*This fact included at her request.