Assertive

I am off on a training day to learn how to be assertive. In this job so far I have improved on being a Minutes Secretary, learned how to be appraised, how to get ahead in management (I haven't) and how to deal with people "on the front line", as separate from the more practical software and regulations training that I have to do periodically. I quite like these training sessions, they're a good opportunity for a nap and they have hot and cold running tea and biscuits. Despite my tendency to nap, however, I tend to ace them. I've always been good in classroom situations, I'm not afraid to look stupid and put my hand up and I'm quite good at pretending to be assertive in a controlled situation. But that's not really the point. I'm going to come out of today still rather afraid of confrontations and unable to stop my lip from wobbling when forced to remain assertive. My own physical inability to keep from crying in difficult situations (happy, sad, angry, frustrated=tears) isn't going to go away after one day. I once started crying when asking a housemate to be more considerate about bathroom usage at Uni. I am a big wuss. Looking at the programme for today, though, I am quite looking forward to the "Group Brag" - self-esteem, compliments and praise. The ego will be pleased.

Fitness update: I tried Hot Cycling on Monday and ached yesterday but am now miraculously pain-free after Aquafit and swimming yesterday. I just wish the Aquafit tutor would think up some new jokes as the jokey "four left: four, three, two, what comes after two? One and three quarters, that's right. One and a half, etc, etc" which she does for each exercise starts to wear a bit thin.

Sleep, or the lack thereof

I am obsessed with sleep at the moment. I spent a lot of last week waking up in the early hours fretting about quitting the band and what would be said. This has now rolled over into this week, mainly because the Mule's insomnia has been getting worse and worse. For some reason, however, this is affecting me more than him because he just carries on taking sleeping tablets and ignores the problem and I fret about all the things he should do to actually solve it, resulting in my losing several hours of sleep worrying about his losing sleep. Ah, irony.

To be honest, though, sleep is something I obsess about quite a lot. When I was young I used to have panic attacks if I didn't get to sleep by a certain time (twenty past eight) because that meant I wouldn't get to sleep at all. For some reason, the vision of sleeplessness that I had was always accompanied by a mental image of a badger. I had possibly just learned that badgers were nocturnal but I still have no idea whether this was comforting or scary,maybe I thought I'd turn into one. It may not surprise you to know that I also used to avoid pavement cracks and count everything as a child. I still do it subconsciously every so often before realising but I am saved, I think, by my inability to count well (I forget where I am and, if not concentrating, go back to 20 instead of counting 91). Phew, a brief teeter on the brink of OCD saved by general ineptness.

It is Done

So, the decision was decided and now the deed is done. I am out of the band. We've been in our current incarnation for about three years and I'm hoping they feel able to carry on without me. I know how important it is to FairyHair in particular and feel bad for her sake that I felt it necessary to go. However, as a group we didn't work, always a problem when there's three of you, and I was feeling more and more like the spare wheel. It's been a couple of years since I used to come back from the rehearsals in tears and ironic that I chose to leave now but it really felt like now was the time for a good clean break.

Hopefully it won't be the last that is heard of the band, although as I am no longer in it I can't make any promises. It definitely won't be the last you'll hear of me. Onwards and upwards, baby, onwards and upwards.

Decided

I've spent the last three months or so making a very difficult decision. Now tonight is the time when I have to do something about it. It isn't earth-shattering but it is important to me and will probably leave some people disappointed. I spent a great deal of last night thinking it over and weighing up what I am about to do and how I say it. It's difficult to decide whether to get everything out in the open or remain dignified and mature (and we all know how capable of maturity I am). I was also going over the pros and cons to doubly make sure that I am happy with the decision. I'm not exactly jubilant about it but it is definitely the right thing to do. I'm decided.

Maturity

I just reread my post from yesterday. Is it bad that I still giggle when I call people smelly? Should I have grown out of this by now? Should I no longer find the words poo, bum, wee, willy and boobies funny? Will it mean that I have finally grown up when I fail to crack a smile when someone says Number 2? I think I just have to face up to the fact that I am immature and may stay this way for a while. He, he, he, boobies.

Fun was had by all

Hello to my lovely people, and to my smelly people (Big Sis, I'm talkin' 'bout you, you know it). I seem to have become more of an occasional poster recently as the initial fever of having a blog has died down. I think that's the way it needs to be, otherwise everything that I end up doing will be shaped into an anecdotal filter, much like watching everything through a camera lens.

I enjoyed Hills Have Eyes, although wouldn't necessarily recommend it. There are good scares and good effects and I was impressed with the main actor, Aaron Stanford, who has taken a bit of a leap from the teenage roles he has become known for (Pyro in X-Men 2 and the lead in Tadpole) to a family man. I do have reservations about it, though, which mainly come from the 70s throwback aspects of it; elements of misogyny and concepts of masculinity which felt a bit dated. However, my reservations and MuleBoy's less contemplative enjoyment of the film led to an interesting discussion in the car on the way back.

I don't remember kicking much arse at the paintball: I'm still not entirely sure whether I hit anyone; I fell over a lot; and got hit many, many times by unexploded paintballs, which is why I still have an impressive array of multi-coloured bruises. Many of these are around my leg and knee area so I look like I've been attacked by particularly vicious garden gnomes. I'd definitely do it again, though, gnomes and all.

I watched Raiders of the Lost Ark last night for the first time in ages. It led me to wonder whether I have ever actually seen the beginning sequence before in my life as I didn't remember any of it, just those bits that are famous from spoofs and clip shows. I'm also still surprised by the bit where we see inside the ark as, when I was little, my Dad used to cover our eyes when Indy tells Marian not to look. This was probably done to be funny rather than to protect us as I remember him chuckling throughout. I think I was about 19 (and living away from home) when I saw it for the first time, so it's still shiny and new.

Horror Fan

The plan is to watch The Hills Have Eyes tonight. I've never seen the original so I'm looking forward to it. I never quite managed to make myself see the remake of Texas Chainsaw Massacre because I loved the original and because it was directed by Michael fricking Bay (you want to hear me get soapbox-y, ask me about Michael Bay, the world's most moronic director). MuleBoy, despite enjoying the genre as well, doesn't understand the Texas Chainsaw Massacre thing as he thinks I'm sick for finding it funny. Now, the film starts off just plain scary, you've got your shots of graveyard desecrations, then your build-up of tension and unease, and then Leatherface starts attacking. However, once the man in the wheelchair gets killed, it all starts getting a bit silly in a blackest of black humours kind of way. The blond heroine's run through the wood followed by man with chainsaw is all very Acme-esque, bringing up images of Roadrunner and Wile E Coyote and the use of sound is hilarious. The sequence where the heroine is tied up and absolutely terrified at the dinner table is scarier because of the humour. She screams and they mock her by screaming back at her; she's waiting to be killed by the mummified grandfather who can barely hold the murder weapon; Leatherface has put lipstick on. It's all so unsettling and weird that laughing is the natural reaction. The end, once you've come through the ordeal, is still my second favourite horror ending after Psycho as there aren't any other horror heroines who looked so completely traumatised. Although I approve of the smarter heroines who fight back etc, I can't help feeling that if I went through what they tend to go through in these films, I would be bloodied and laughing insanely in the back of a pick up truck too. Not for me the witty comeback and the cool, final gunshot to the baddy's head. Tonight's film doesn't look like a laugh-riot but I really fancy Slither (2006), which looks very sick but also quite funny and has the tightpanted Nathan Fillion in a starring role. This is a golden time for all horror lovers as studios are realising how little these films cost and how much money they make. Look out for Hostel and Reeker as well (unless you're Herself, in which case run for the hills).

Thank you to Herself for providing encouraging words to help me along in my quest for better fitness and all over health. And enough people (Herself, Big Sis and Drunken Accomplice) have said that sports clothes don't count for me to be reassured that the clock is still ticking and is nearly at 2 months on the no-clothes ban. I would also like to recommend the sports bra I got, which is a Shock Absorber one. It's awesome, I'm a D cup and there is no movement when I'm wearing it. I was jumping up and down in the changing rooms, trying to get it to move and there was nothing. It made Boxercise easier yesterday (I managed about 5 Burpees compared to the zero Burpees I did last week), although I still need to fix my glasses more firmly as they've been threatening to fall off. You get one unnecessarily bouncing thing fixed, and realise you need to stop another.

Well, I'm off to get myself mentally prepared for the Paintballing and Shag Party tomorrow (for the uninitiates, Shag is a stag/hen combination party rather than what you're thinking of, you naughty uninitiate!) I may cry, I will bruise but I also hope to kick some arse.

Sleepy kitten

I messed with my sleep patterns a bit this weekend and am thus unable to really wake up particularly. After the night of booze and pink lampshades, I got home but didn't get to sleep until 2ish, then woke up at 6.30 and went swimming, then slept for most of the afternoon, then went to sleep about 2ish, woke up about 7 the next day and slept most of the afternoon. If I am to truly pursue this crazy exercise-y lifestyle then I should perhaps make other changes to cater for it a bit more.

In addition to this, I was very disappointed after a week of pushing myself to have put on weight at Weightwatchers last night. However, the fact that my weekend's diet included tapas (with at least a bottle of wine to myself), chinese, pick'n'mix sweets, roast pork and potatoes may have contributed to this. Dammit!

So earlier nights on Fridays, avoid alcohol, avoid eating out and try and stick to the diet a bit more. Argh. I may give myself a day off a week but I think three is a bit excessive. I must get rid of the weight that I haven't properly managed to shift since before Christmas and then keep going! I'm determined now!

I finished Girlfriend in a Coma by Douglas Coupland yesterday. It's an excellent book about the way that the world has shot off in a diagonal from the way that it should be. A girl goes into a coma in 1979 (the day before my birth, which, embarrassingly, is one of the reasons I was intrigued enough to buy the book. Interestingly the book is full of similar coincidences, so maybe not so embarrassing) and wakes up 17 years later and is disappointed by the way that the world has developed. Time doesn't exist and the only thing that people can get excited about is how efficient everything is (she also gets sick of everyone telling her about AIDS and the collapse of the Berlin Wall). It's very interesting and full of metaphysical ideas which are left tantalisingly close but never fully explained. I approve of not treating an audience like morons so appreciated that. I'm not going to bother doing a link because I don't seem to be particularly successful with books. However, the book thing seems to be becoming a regular thing. Maybe I should also review the Sudoku puzzle book I fall asleep over every night in bed. I don't like reading in bed as I either get too excited that I can't sleep and want to keep reading, or fall asleep and miss things. For some weird reason, that seems impolite.

Not a happy blogger

I have been put off posting this week as I understand that I have been criticised for being rude to people. In my defence, I would say that I may be flippant but I never plan to insult my friends or family. Please, anyone who has received a name and is unhappy about it, provide me with alternatives. If the content upsets people too much, by all means stop reading.

So, now that that's out of the way, there were quite a few things I want to write about this week so here's my week in short:

1. Went out to a birthday do last Friday and ended up initiating conversations with people I'd never met before. Given my occasional stilted speech and extreme shyness, this felt like an achievement. Yay me!
MuleBoy enjoyed himself despite spending the hour previous to the party telling me he didn't want to go. Yay him!

2. Met up with old friends who I haven't seen for months on Saturday. Ended up freezing and watching Tootsie in a house with broken heating for four hours before we decamped to Miss Funky's parent's house for heat and fajitas. The Gay Tory and I found that we were both extremely useless at music quizzes and for some reason decided to team up. We lost. I also learned a new song:

Lesbians, lesbians
A woman takes another for a lover

Lesbians, lesbians
They don't have to be..undercover

3. I decided to exercise and have so far been to an aqua fit class and a boxercise one. I am going swimming tomorrow morning as well. I hurt, which I expected, but feel amazing, which I didn't.

4. In the course of preparing for fitness, I had to buy a new sports outfit as I only had some t-shirts and some brown jogging trousers that are saggy at the knees.. The new thing was half price and necessary but it still counts as falling off the wagon. I start again here. Unfortunately I also need a new bra as I didn't have enough support. Can't decide whether this will count or not.

5. I am going out to get sozzled tonight and plan to be embarrassing. MuleBoy is not coming but will have to deal with the aftermath. Feel sorry for him, everybody. Unfortunately alcohol tends to be the main cause of weight gain for me but I plan to not think about that this evening. I just hope I'll manage the swim.

That was my week. I had a lovely time, thank you please.

Hmm, definitely a very deep thought

So, I love my new hair, it rocks and is the closest a gal like me can ever get to a stylish bob-type thing. However, am not sure about it with a centre parting. Side parting, I feel like a Hollywood starlet, back when that was a worthwhile thing to be. Centre parting and it turns into terrifying triangular hair, a curse for the curly. You straight-haired people will never know the true terror of triangular hair and what happens when that gets frizzy. Believe me when I say that I look almost indistinguishable from Crystal Tipps, a sad fate for anyone who isn't animated (as in drawn, rather than full of expression).

I Heart Books

I have just finished two books in two days and have started on a new one this morning. I go through periods of voraciously devouring books and due to the play finishing have got back into my stride a little. The first book was extremely enjoyable and quite long, so I was reading it throughout the run but, for obvious reasons, could never just sit down and plough through it. Ursula, Under by Ingrid Hill, a book which allows the reader a glimpse into the lineage of a small Finnish-Chinese-American girl who fell into a mineshaft and there bore the responsibility to live, being the last person in this epic line of people. I loved it, particularly the narrative, which was extremely omniscient and at several points made reference to a God who could see not only what was and what is but also what will be and what could have been, and by using this technique gave you insights into what could have been a better or worse life for the characters in question. Another thing I liked was that it was never sentimental and wouldn't linger on the potentially emotionally manipulative scenario of Ursula's predicament, focussing instead on differing viewpoints and practicality. I recommend everyone to read it.

The second book took me less than a day to read and was a horse of a totally different colour. A Year With The Producers by Jeffry Denman was an actor's diary taken from his auditions to his appearance as Matthew Broderick's understudy in the original Broadway production. I love reading about people who work in theatre, there's something about it that both undercuts and perpetuates the myth and glamour. You hear about the slog and the hell of auditioning but at the same time get to read about parties where Nathan Lane, Matthew Broderick, Mel Brooks and Anne Bancroft conga around a restaurant with the rest of the cast in tow. However, I was very glad I had seen both films, even if I'd never made it to see the production onstage (do you know how much those tickets cost? And it's currently John Gordon Sinclair who I am not that keen on) because it is written for an audience who know the show reasonably well. Someone coming into it completely cold would be rather confused by the references to Little Old Lady Land and chorus line swastikas.

So, I'm a big novels geek but at least MuleBoy would be proud of me for reading consistently adult books as he moans at me for reading children's books. He has yet to discover the genius of Philip Pullman and Garth Nix (seriously, if you haven't read Garth Nix yet, he is excellent. I wasn't a big fan of Sabriel but Lirael and Abhorsen are well worth it).

Rumours

I met up with my friends SpyGirl and Her Loveliness yesterday. SpyGirl is heading back to Italy tomorrow, which she says is due to her completing her studies in International Politics and that sort of malarkey but this must be a lie as WE ALL KNOW that she is really a spy doing spy things. I'm still rather confused as to why she's going back early as she was originally intending to meet up with a boy from her course (read: fellow spy) in Austria in order to have sex but has decided to change this to another time and the Lebanon (apparently Austria is boring so by going to the Lebanon she plans to combine sightseeing and sex).

However, this meant that this was my last opportunity to pump her for information about her Dad who, it is rumoured, writes romantic fiction under a female pseudonym. When told that he has been quizzed about this before and responded only with an enigmatic chuckle, SpyGirl decided that this meant he didn't but was trying to make himself look more interesting. However, she plans to investigate so we shall find out more in the future. I would love to know how the rumour started if it isn't actually true as it does imply a flight of fancy in the originator. SpyGirl then responded with a rumour about a mutual Mexican acquaintance who apparently left her job and disappeared back to Mexico in order to sort out her father's estate when he died and found herself the recipient, along with her siblings, of several million pounds that she had absolutely no idea her father owned. Apparently she is now staying in Mexico and living it up. Well, wouldn't you?

Bad Hair Day

I am getting my hair cut tomorrow, which isn't soon enough to my mind. For some reason, I decided to let it grow longer than I normally would and I am getting to the point where I remember why I cut it all off about 7 or 8 years ago. Dear Gods, let it just be shorter so that I may style my hair! I am also trying to decide in what way I would like to be pampered on Saturday and trying to find somewhere to get a moustache bleached. Any suggestions, please let me know, I am starting to get desperate. No-one has, of yet, mistaken me for a man but it's only a matter of time. I remember reading somewhere that in France they have a pet name for the feminine moustache but we seem to be terrified of hair in Britain. I found a stray white one on my jawline the other day and felt like an old crone. I seem to spend half my life shaving, waxing and plucking and would love someone to come up with a permanent hair-loss solution, wouldn't that be amazing! I have a list of ways to improve my appearance should I ever be visited by a genie and that's nearly top. At the top of the list is hair on my head that is obedient and that I can change the colour and style of at will. I'd have so much fun with that.

Hoorah for me

On a lighter note, it has been one month and counting since I last bought clothes. Yay me.

Well, I guess that's that, then

So we had our opening night of our show last night. It went well, generally pretty smooth, and the actors did well and got a good audience response. I think it'll be really excellent by Saturday as there's no rehearsal which works as well as just doing it in performance. I feel guilty for not having been very director-ly on Monday after the Dress Rehearsal and having done no St Crispin's Day type speech to really rally the troops. These three days have been so much harder than I thought they would be and at that point, I just wanted to clear up the problems and go to bed. MuleBoy is convinced that I will want to direct again in the future and at some point it'll suddenly click and I'll be desperate to direct again. So far, I'm just not there and I can't imagine ever being there. I have enjoyed the rehearsals, think the cast are amazing and am proud of the final product but I just don't feel the connection with directing that I probably should in order to want to do it again. I don't really like the responsibility and it doesn't give me the same thrill that I get from acting. So in future, I shall stick to the bit that I really love and leave directing to the people that crave it. Like the Mule

Poorly again

Again, apologies for neglecting to post. I'm generally just not in the mood when I'm at home and especially not when I am feverish and coughing up the contents of my lungs. Funny, that. Anyhoo, I am back at work and trying to work out what needs to be done and trying to get through several miles of paper. It's at times like these when you realise that there is stuff that just doesn't need to be done. I think filing is overrated for a start, we only seem to do it at all to cover our backs when we get audited. Or in order to be able to say "hah, we did send you that letter and we have the proof!" Basically, it's a general cover-all. I reckon that if the world was more trusting, we wouldn't need filing at all. Please everyone, let's make the world a more beautiful place. More trust, more trees!

I kept expecting MuleBoy to tell me I could have last week off from rehearsals as well but he wouldn't do it because he is a big meanie. I was living in fear that I'd pass germs on to the cast and tried to keep a distance. Easy in the theatre, tricky in the other tiny rehearsal spaces we have. I hid behind my scarf a lot of the time. As no-one has gone down with it yet, I am praying that this remains the case.

In all fairness, it is now Show Week, so I guess it was a bit short notice to let me off rehearsals (although surely a benefit of two directors). Yesterday was a long 12 hours comprising getting the set up, sorting the props, setting the lights, programming the lights, having a cue run-through and then a full run-through. Much to their credit, all concerned were tireless and uncomplaining and me and the Mule felt ourselves to be very lucky being surrounded by such a committed group of people. Hooray for you all and much thanks.

Strangely territorial

We had a meeting of our theatre group last night. The company chose a play that I can't act in for our July slot, so I am resigned to behind-the-scenes roles until December, when I shall be wowing the world with my playing of a one-scene-only Librarian. So much for that whole "no small parts" philosophy. Sorry Herself, but there was another play I really fancied doing so I am a bit disappointed. Good luck, though.

But this disappointment was overshadowed by the fact that in my place, the theatre where I spend a vast amount of my free time and have done since birth, there were suddenly interlopers. Now, I have grown accustomed to the fact that other people use it, it is public property after all. However, when these people comprise mainly of fellow members of staff from my work place, and ones that I am quite often not that keen on (I was at least able to point out to Big Sis both the man I regularly describe as Hagrid with BO and the-man-from-that-meeting-where-I-said-I-was-going-to-hit-him-with-a-chair-and-stab-him-with-my-pen) then I have good reason to feel discomfited by their sudden presence in my private life. I spoke to Hagrid on my way out and found out that they had been watching the play going on in the theatre, which sounded very worthy. I was quite shocked to find that the-man-from-that-meeting-etc had actually appeared in the show and found it almost impossible to imagine him doing anything other than be incredibly annoying and disgusting (I am still emotionally scarred from having to look through his office, the man himself is impeccable but the office... (shudder)). So not only are they trespassing upon my place, but also upon my activities. I probably shouldn't be this crazy about but I didn't like it. Part of it is that they are all very clever and have jobs that reflect this whereas I am not and do not. So I feel at a disadvantage to them at work and just enjoy having this bit of me that is special and talented that helps me know that I am as good as them and better in the thing that I do. So, basically, work and private life don't mix in my head very easily.

Fatal Addiction

I have failed. I bought some clothes yesterday. Although I can't feel too guilty as it was necessary clothes-buying and I'm not sure that socks and tights really count, especially when there's a 3 for 2 offer on at Boots. I shall rule that out and state that I am nearly up to a month of cold turkey. My last expenditure was a whole £10 on three items of clothing at H&M so I can start feeling smug soon, I think. I nearly caved last week as I looked really cute in a stripey t-shirt that only cost £6 but I figured that the whole feeble rationalisation thing is what normally gets me into trouble anyway. My aim is to avoid buying new clothes until it starts being hot again. I have already donated a great deal of last year's summer wardrobe to charity as I was swimming in some of it (in terms of size rather than actually went swimming in it), had managed to bleach a bit of it with this stupid cream I was trying and have just plain gone off the rest. I hate summer clothes so tend to get stuff that will last for a minimal period of time (the same length of time as the fabled British summer) but as I am going away to Italy for two weeks this August, I feel the need to get summer clothes that are both reasonably flattering and slightly durable. Thus, I am being frugal until a) I crack or b) it's May and starting to warm up. I would not put any money on b) if I were you.

Poorly

I would like to know whether I am a hypochondriac or not. I've been off for most of last week with no real signs of illness other than feeling crappy and needing to sleep. A lot. Generally, unless I am showing visible signs of being ill; fever, vomiting, the runs etc, I will feel guilty about being ill. I will also try to go back to work way before I am feeling better and end up getting sent home in disgrace. This time I cried which was so embarrassing. I would just like to know whether my brain is in control of my being ill or whether it's the bits of my body that are affected by the actual illness. I think mainly, that I would like to stop feeling guilty about being poorly.

0, for a muse of fire

I found a fun game on the bbc website on Tuesday and finished it yesterday. You can find it here. Being both gory and reasonably challenging (as well as perhaps based on Theatre of Blood) I enjoyed it thoroughly. My personal favourite was the death that had elements of Merchant of Venice and Titus Andronicus.

I was talking about food at a post-rehearsal pub visit last night. I don't eat fruit and feel panicked if someone makes me try to eat anything except an apple (I can eat them, don't know why. None of this is rational). This led to a discussion about other people's food habits and we found out that someone's Dad eats cheese and strawberry jam sandwiches, which prompted MuleBoy to ask if he was pregnant. The justification given was that he likes cheese, he likes jam; why not eat them together? I can't really be too disgusted as I used to eat uncooked spaghetti and brown sugar sandwiches, we had a shortage of fun food (the words "why don't you have some fruit? was the refrain should Big Sis or I fancy a snack) in our house and this, for some reason, became a viable alternative. I don't remember enjoying them very much, however.

(PG) Tips: On the tea front I have been advised on how to get around this by a fellow feline. Am not sure as this still involves having to make tea but shall think on't.