Upbeat titles are difficult.

The real world is treating me surprisingly well, I am pleased to say! I’m now working in a small office – there’s only four of us – on six hour days, correcting every spreadsheet they’ve ever made. Little steps. They’re lovely people and they like me lots!

I have told them that I have a history of silly-brain-itis (not actual inflammation of the silly brain, just a nice sounding phrase) but I have told them nothing more. I haven’t told them that I cannot ‘phones’, I have not asked them not to discuss illness, I have not told them I don’t like people. So for a little while I am actually playing the part of ‘well-adjusted, functional human’ quite well, even though I am a walking purple.

I am really, really enjoying dressing office-y. And startling people with the transition from mass of Kevlar and boots to dainty thing in a skirt and heels every morning. I did try taking the bus, but that turned out to be the most traumatic part of the day, so motorbike it is…while the weather stays co-operative anyway.

So yeah.
The real world is being nice.
Apart from last night’s spontaneous panic attack at three in the morning. Very odd sensation to wake up to, and not one I hope to repeat any time soon.


Slaying the green-eyed monster

I spend an embarrassing amount of my time looking through the online portrayal of the lives of people I used to know. I spend a lot of my days envying the adventures of others and the paths their lives have forged, and comparing their current lives to my current life. I very rarely even consider that I have jammed a lot of living into my two short decades on this Earth, and I very rarely consider the possibility of many more years to fill with adventures of my own.

I envy their travel. I envy the fact that so many people have been to Asia and Africa. I know this will sound very close-minded but honestly I have minimal interest in either of those continents, yet somehow I still envy people for having experienced them. I temporarily forget that I too have had my adventures; I have pursued alternative lives in the USA and in Spain, and I have done more than my fair share of relocation.

I envy their friends and social lives. I forget that I have had the honour of getting to know some truly wonderful humans – particularly in the last four years – and that I have had the privilege of calling many of them my friends. I may not be constantly photographed smiling in a bar, surrounded by people with similar well-rehearsed¬†expressions of happiness, but there are a great many people with whom I could talk and laugh if I were just to say ‘hello’.

I envy their credentials and jobs. I forget that I have a degree myself, and I forget that there are most likely a lot of years ahead of me for working exciting jobs and exploiting my talents.

I envy their adventure. I forget that I have jumped out of planes, and driven motorcycles, and scaled rock faces, and had conversations in other languages, and seen the sun rise and set and rise again, and gazed into the Grand Canyon, and seen countries from miles above, and felt the sea beneath my feet, and sang and danced and laughed and loved….

I envy people pointlessly without looking first to my own life. A life that has been host to many moments of joy for every moment of sadness. A life which has succumbed to a setback, which serves only to strengthen me and to encourage me to tread a new path of my very own.

“Normality is a paved road: It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it”. – Vincent Van Gough

And now for my three happys of the day:
2. My dog’s ears (see below)
3. Realising I was able to write this post.


The molehill of doom

A few weeks ago I realised I was hilariously poor. Having just moved to the middle of nowhere there are very limited options for such an eventuality as pretty much every shop is independent and staffed by family of the owners and I have no skills. And I guess you could also throw in the fact that I am scared of the whole entire world and everything it contains.

So I joined the job center. This was a massive step as it meant leaving the house, direct interpersonal communication, and also that I have to get a job at the end of it. I am still not sure if it was the right decision, I’m not convinced I am fit to work and would probably be better off on disability, but I’ve never really been one to take the sensible option..

Anyway. I have to leave the house in half an hour to go to my first proper appointment. This means dicing with death at every corner (especially considering my means of transportation is a motorcycle I have owned for two weeks and ridden four times) and probably breaking down in tears in the Tesco car park at the other end of the 10-mile journey.

So today’s molehill to climb is making it to the next town (which is over the border into Wales so I am actually going on an international expedition) and back fully intact and functional, and hopefully with minimal crying. And then I get to bake cupcakes and return to my dent in the sofa and shiver for a while.

And to distract me on the way there, I shall be trying to think of a name for my valiant mechanical steed.