I've received a few personal responses from my last post, all of them complimentary! What a winner I'm onto here, eh? Thinking back, I'm not even sure what made it such a success, but I guess the new pattern will tell. This week's been...slightly different. I managed to survive an extremely extended panic attack which peaked on Tuesday, I guess it lasted for about three days. The only time I do episodes really are upon meeting my number one phobia head on and having my blood taken (these are two totally different things, I hate both but I'm not scared of blood weird huh).
So I'm writing this totally in the grip of possible insomnia and definite body clock shifting, vaguely considering what I have to do when the sun shines upon Monday in old Truro town. Squinting dimly around the room offers no clues, except for the Banjo hanging on the wall: I'll be playing in the Rotary club's Victorian Evening, fusing historical facial hair with an anachronistic instrument (the Tenor wasn't standardised until the early 1920's) and the repertoire of the solo baroque Violoncello. WHATEVER. It gives me an excuse to roll out the barrel once more dear friends, and god damn it do I really love that Banjo sound. The strings are a bit worn, but we're coming up to the annual clean down and restring date anyway, even if it is after tomorrow...
In between panicking and avoiding dairy products... Oh yeah. I'm suddenly lactose intolerant. Like, violently. I'll leave it at that, but identifying potential sources of illness in my diet has composed a surprisingly large percentage of this week's mental activity (the physical partner was of course, avoiding such produce). I went to the Doctor to just check it with him that I was allowed to be sick after cheese, to which I was told I'd need to get a new set of bloods done juuuuuust to be sure. You can forget that chummy! I can quite happily spend the rest of my life avoiding cooked dairy produce (although I'm even beginning to suspect that my milk is plotting against me...) without having to go for another set of panic-inducing blood tests! But where was I? Oh yes! In between panicking and avoiding dairy products, I have started to feel the squeeze of a lack of financial resources.
Of course I'm moaning about not having any money, but it is really my fault and nobody else's. I went out and spent it all, so it's my fault! Finally, a mature attitude to money! HA HA. I did my week's shopping spend and then paid my phone bill within days, which basically took a hundred pounds from me straightaway. The rest, as usual, has gone on going out. Almost every weekend since coming back from the magical island kingdom of Derbados I've been out til all hours (even on a Saturday, foolishly enough), pushing myself socially and alcoholically to almost breaking point, and somehow coming out of it alive. Alone, perhaps, but alive. Don't worry folks, I've gone back to the good old days of being unable to pull in clubs (after the brief flowering in the LCR, late 2011), or indeed unable to get anything approaching a date at all. Funnily enough, I have been trying as well.
Obviously I don't understand this whole romance game - I proved that over the past twelve months really, going through two relationships that struggled over the 12 week mark. If this were still at university, a semester's worth of dating would be a legit turning point, I suppose. Three months is actually a long time, especially when the days tend to stretch on forever and ever and ev... Sorry.
Last term, I was in a funk and didn't know what I wanted; it wasn't until Christmas that my head really leveled out and I felt that I was in a position that I could be sincere with not only others but myself. I like to know what's going off.
Finally, I led a workshop with an after school group as part of the Cathedral Choir's outreach programme this term. This really did fill me with dread, especially after finding myself frightened to leave my room in case I saw anybody else at one point on Tuesday. Turns out that I made the right choice leading this hour, as it was actually quite life-affirming: a necessary boost for my dreadfully low self-esteem. Having no formal training in planning a rehearsal, warm-ups for young voices, leading choirs or other handy tools, I was justifiably nervous to begin with. I also refuse to demonstrate anything not in falsetto, because God Damn it that's who I am and there's no way I ever want that to be muted.
Haitus
Things seem to be leveling out into one permanently cental-heated, washing-up centric way of being. After last night's Victorinian evening and the short sojourn to the Rising Sun, I'm not sure if anything exciting lies ahead of me. Life can't be all go all of the time, I suppose, but a week is a long time after all and a lot can change!
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