God and Gay Facials

Well I’ve just spent some time clicking the ‘next blog’ button up there at the top of the screen and there are two things that I’d like to report. Why I’m reporting them to you, Reader, when you’re perfectly aware I’m sure of some of the oddities that make up this blogging world I don’t know. They’ve tickled me so hopefully they might do the same to you.

Firstly, ‘Gay Facials’ - is it me or does that sound too much like a place you’d go to have your eyebrows done? I just can’t take it seriously as a sexual practice, I mean come on (no pun intended), imagine if you will:

‘Gay facial sir?’

‘Sure, thanks, but could you use Nivea this time? That other stuff was a bitch to get out of my hair.’

See what I mean?

Secondly, religious blogs. Not that I’m for organised religion in any of its various destructive forms but it’s not that that’s amused me. It’s this:

‘Fossil Fuel Users United

…well then Billy told me that I really needed to use the ¾ wrench spanner before even thinking about getting started on the carburettor assembly and I remembered that it was very similar to when our sweet lord Jesus went into the house of the money collectors and SMASHED THEIR HEATHEN WAYS WITH THE MIGHT OF THE LORD!!!’

I’m sorry, just exactly where did that come from? I was perfectly happy learning about the intricacies of the internal combustion engine and all of a sudden I’m in some kind of Fundamentalist wonderland!

Similarly, if I’ve found a good recipe for bolognese I’m a bit surprised to find that one ingredient needs to be acquired from ‘the sweet gardens of our Lords house’, whilst the pasta has been blessed by the holy trinity.

I honestly don’t think they sell that in Asda.

P.S. These are fictional examples to prove a point. I may be sarcastic, but I’m not cruel. Also, for those who’ve spotted a certain Judaeo-Christian bias all I can say is that those are the blogs I’ve seen. If there are similarly innocent looking blogs of any other faith (A cross-stitching blog that exhorts the faithful to unite against the great Satan whilst at the same time providing fascinating and intricate floral designs for a sofa throw, for example) I’ve yet to see one, or been unable to read it if I have seen one.

Anyway, that’s more than enough for tonight I think.

Awaiting Permission

The writing style of this blog is slightly off-kilter. I like it. You might.

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Hugh Grant-ish is a word

One week. One week free of that soul destroying job. The world is a slightly weird place. I’m acutely aware that I’m in a bit of a freefall zone at the moment. Everything’s cool until the money runs out. Which it will do, soon. We’re talking weeks rather than months here people.

Am I a fool? Some kind of optimistic, naïve nutter who’s sacrificed everything on the altar of hope? Or worse, was this some kind of self-sabotage, part of me perfectly aware that by quitting the only income I had, I’d be throwing myself to my own lions?

The only answer to this particular quandary is – we’ll see. When the bailiffs are on the door I’ll know I’ve failed. When a month or two have gone by and I’m struggling to the next payday but all the bills are paid, I know I’ll have succeeded. Struggling = succeeded? I know it sounds odd but it’s true. This first month will be crucial.

Well, I’ve been to an agency (Giz a job, guv’nor), started my assignment, and am seriously considering quitting smoking – again. All good. Hopefully it won’t be too long before the agency get me something. I’ll be in town tomorrow so there’s a few more agencies I can sign up with. The more the merrier.

On a more upbeat note, next course day is Monday (woo-hoo). It’s going to be a challenge, there are a couple of risky things I been thinking of doing.

First and possibly the weirdest, I want to check whether people see me differently once they know how old I really am. I’m blessed with a young looking face (not necessarily a pretty one! (), usually people estimate me at about 8 years younger than I actually am. That may be more to do with my attitude than my physical appearance but still, I’m very curious as to what people think when they realise I’m a thirty-something instead of a twenty-something. I suspect that there is a change in perception but I wonder if anyone will feel comfortable enough to actually say so.

The second challenge would be to speak with Cora, to tell her that she scares the crap out of me! The issue is mine of course, her emotional immediateness pushes against my own withdrawn nature. Being someone who struggles like hell to connect with his own emotions, to be in the prescence of someone who seems to naturally feel. Well, it manifests itself in weird ways, I feel embarrassed when her emotions rise, excruciatingly embarrassed and uncomfortable. I keep thinking ‘Oh no, please don’t...!’ when it looks like she may cry. If we’re in a one-to-one situation and that were to happen I imagine I’d get all Hugh Grant-ish ‘umming’ and ‘ahhing’ not  knowing what the hell to say or do. Not much good for a prospective therapist now is it!? ( So, there’s my challenge – deal with my own emotion and acknowledge them to Cora. Oh boy.

Ok, that’ll do for now. Speak to you soon.