Part of me says that I shouldn't grumble so much, but I don't know, there's so much catharsis... Hah! Things are pretty good actually. My personal arc of esteem/value/enjoyment is swinging to the better side finally, my days have been moderately high functioning, nothing too exciting yet.
Part of this has been due to my attendence of NLP sessions, that I'd describe as a kind of counceling that isn't counceling. It stands for Neuro-Linguistic Processing, and basically consists of... sort of a challenge to thought patterns. I have a naturally low state of self-esteem and confidence, as we all know and have started my online public discussion of last week. Part of this is down to not only my perception of my environment and other people, but also the language that I employ in interacting with the world, especially as I have returned to quite a base state of anger. Some days I am just totally angry, and I legitimately enjoy that state quite a lot: I find that I usually function quite highly, so the rage and dissatisfaction is worth the trade off. I feel that things get done, and that I usually compromise less; after almost a year of sacrifice and compromise I look at how that has made me feel and how miserable things have been. In order to make these compromises I have often stopped standing up for my own beliefs, which is an utterly hopeless position. In turning my back on this, I think that perhaps I have gone too far at the moment, but if I can regain the ground that I lost, then perhaps it will all be worth it once I calm down again.
In a way, it's also about my hero, the Big Man. My Uncle Philip, the world's most intelligent alcoholic, is quite the idol. No, I do not look forward to a future of liver destruction myself, but I do not villify him for it either. While he has been a violent person, even towards his family, and squandered his life, health and money away on booze... He knows it and regrets it. There have been occassions where he has apologised...and that's what makes him my hero. But the point is he can be a punishingly outspoken man: if he doesn't like it, he'll damn well say so. Even his front door has a warning sign, "Here lives a lovely lady and a grumpy man". Engage him on his level though, and he is one of the wittiest people on the soil. In his day, probably one of the best butchers in Derby, and rightfully still proud of it. Of course, his alcoholism means that he has not worked for years, and I think that this is one of his chiefest regrets, and a stark warning to me. If I want to continue in my profession as a musician at all, I cannot allow myself to become addicted to the same dangerous poison. It's all well and good having a nice time, but it can't become my life.
The constant battle against the kitchen continues. This last week has seen the advent of a new tactic: if it's mine I wash it and rescue it; if it isn't and I haven't used it, I'll leave it. That's right, I'm beginning to leave things. If you're finding that difficult to believe, then think how difficult it is for me to do it! Cookware has sat for weeks on end in the kitchen due to this new rule, which is disgusting: a huge pan of soup was left for a total of three weeks and acquired a lid of black mould, responsible for foul odour and a definite health risk. One of my housemates has come down with a suspected case of Norovirus... Delightful. The appropriate Wikipedia article on the matter describes most outbreaks taking place in "closed or semiclosed communites" (like Scholaries), and that outbreaks can be traced to "food handled by one infected person". Perhaps my practice of cooking for myself is paying off already? In any case, having a kitchen packed with dirty pans is one of the least helpful things. Interestingly enough, the same article recommends chlorine-based cleaning agents (so bleach), and a raise in temperature to successfully recover from the virus...which might explain why the heating keeps being booted up. Somehow, it doesn't seem to make any difference whatsoever as to how many times I ask for the heating to be slightly down (and I mean slightly, maybe 2 or 3 degrees lower at the most) at night, because well...I just get ignored. Having a hot room at night makes me feel dreadfully ill, stuffed up and sweaty - my radiator is permanently off and my window always open, but that doesn't stop the hot water going through the radiators in the rest of the house or even through the pipes that are part of the system going under the floor of my room either. This morning I felt like I'd been left out to dry. I do wonder how the others don't feel so dehydrated after a night, but I guess that's definitely not a bad thing for them!
The search for work continues. When this is finished and posted, I might go to that shop I applied to and ask where my application has got to in their employment process. Has it been thrown out? If so, what feedback can they give me? Or will they ring me for an interview by the end of the week? In two days time it'll be two weeks since I took my CV and covering letter in, so I would like to know if I'm still in the running... That's okay, right? I mean, I want this job. It would suit me. It would fit in with my appointment as Choral Scholar and Lay Vicar. The effect of getting full time employment without having to train as a teacher would be amazing. This isn't to say that FT teaching is worth any less, because I know quite a few people who are applying for or part-way through their Teacher training and it is worth as much as absolutely anything and everything else, are we clear? It's just that, well... I'm not suited. And that's it. I'm still too...what's the word...aggressive to teach? Yeah, aggressive, I think that's a good word.
Outside of all this, I am working my way through the works of Brahms Opus by Opus, mostly while I've been working in the Cathedral office again. There is still no WiFi in the house consistent enough unless I sit directly underneath the router... which is infuriating. If I want to sit in my room and listen to something I don't own, such as almost any classical music you could care to name, then I simply can't do that. Instead, while preparing my transcription of the Corrette mass, I have been reacquainting myself with the hardcore thrash punk stylings of Cancer Bats, a type of noise not really favoured by the other Scholars. It takes all sorts really though, what with the others having a hugely developed appreciation for Opera, alongside 19th and 20th century music in the classical tradition. Variety is of course, the spice of life after all!
Hiatus
As ever, these things often spill into two sessions. Yet another of my co-habitors has come down with this vile and unwelcome illness, and I can't help but feel paranoid about coming down with it myself. Soon, the Easter break will be upon us, and I will be left in the Scholary on my own - of course there will no longer be any sick people around me, but it'd be par for the course if I went down with it while I was alone in there... Although saying that, there are plenty of friends down here who would help me out should I fall ill. Hopefully it won't come to that. Keep your fingers crossed, dear readers.
My previous call for letters has finally gone answered though, having established a healthy and rewarding correspondence with my excellent friend Mr. Godolphin, and of course, receiving letters from the State of Maryland, USA.
Also, I have managed to repair the Wireless Firewire connection in the house...by screwing the antenna in properly on the back so it broadcasts correctly again. I should get a set of buisness cards with a list of spurious titles printed: Gentleman, Scholar, Cook, Cleaner, Deceased Rodent Removal, IT Consultant...
Postscriptum
I'm rather glad I didn't get all this done in one sitting and posting, the original end, in situ, upon reflection is quite weak. It has also allowed me to comment on more recent occurences, although now I think about it, there was that time on Sunday evening gone when I got pranked called...
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