annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


You can go your own way

This technology isnít giving me a momentís peace. The boiler, having been reluctant to put the heating on, is now refusing to allow hot water without the heating. I have the internet but my pc has died completely and today the wireless has gone kaput so even my lappy has to be plugged in, to a very short wire. Sigh. I know, #firstworldproblem. Iím only saying. It just feels like a long time since I could sit in my comfy chair, at my desk and write on the pc, with its lovely big screen and keyboard.

By the way, I love that #firstworldproblem. Amongst all the dross of twitter, every now and then a gem emerges and that is one of them. It doesnít stop the moaning Ė we are only human, if privileged beyond our just deserts - but it keeps things in perspective, níest-ce pas?

I tried to make a video of my fire for Hil, which would seem a straightforward kind of project Ė point and press Ė what could go wrong? Well, this, for a start:

The fireplace being taller than it is wide, I turned the camera round and itís taken me most of the evening to accept that there is no function (or none that I can find) to rotate a film clip. By then the fire had almost gone out, but I slung on a bit of kindling and tried again:

Possibly too late for this yearís academy awards, but just think where my skills might have got me by next year. Iím currently trying to get a wildlife clip of my back yard, with seagulls, squirrels and cats, but it may take me a while. I find it hard to accept that apart from writing here, I am a dilettante when it comes to art projects. I start so many, always with such great enthusiasm, but it peters out Ė I hadnít quite realised how much till I re-read big chunks of this blog, as it just drifts right out of my mind. [Long pause while I remember several and contemplate reviving them]

At art this week we were meant to be working up one of the sketches from the museum into a painting. I didnít want to (I just have to glance at those sketches to re-experience a flicker of how wired I was when I did them, and shut the book, quick), so at the last minute I grabbed an illustrated museum guide off my bookcase, and ended up with this:

The bright blue was the last colour I put on, after sheíd already asked us to start packing up. I shall maybe try and either tone it down to match the rest or bring all the colour up to its level. The note next to the original says, ďBestiary. Flemish, circa 1270. Two Fishermen, Believing Themselves at an Island, Make Their Camp on the Back of a Sea Creature.Ē Fab.

And here are my new shoes:

Iím trying to break out of the flipflops/Ugg thing that Iíve had going since leaving teaching, and a soft, flat shoe seemed a good place to start, but I lost my nerve about after reading some bullshit article by some sneering fuckwit taking the piss out of older people Ďtrying to regain their youth by dressing like kidsí. You see, that is how much my brain seizes up when thereís too much going on Ė I completely forgot that I donít give a shit what tosspots like that say. Iím not trying to regain my youth Ė Jesus, Iím still in counselling after living through it once, the last thing I want to do is repeat it Ė I simply do not accept that objects can be assigned to closed groups in this arbitrary way, and if anyone has trouble with me wearing these shoes, I shall probably not even notice. I no longer wear short skirts or low cut tops, not because I think the world needs to be protected from the sight of a wrinkly cleavage, but because the reality is that dressing like that at my age sends a message regarding my sexuality that is not true, but puts hope and ambition into the minds of all sorts of revolting characters, and darlings, life is too short to be arguing with aged drunks about whether or not Iíd like them to Ďdo me a favourí. My libido fucked off in 2002 (a blessed mercy at the time) and thereís been no sign of it since. God, thatís ten years. Iím almost a virgin again.

Grateful for: my flat, which I am starting to love; inspirational friends; not being desperate for a fuck at a time when Iím unlikely to find one; Son spending last night here and being awesome in his own way, making me feel at peace; dear diaryland

Sweet dreams xxx

12:41 a.m. - 26.02.12


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