my stuff
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everything you say i am, i am. especially if you say i'm going mental.
Friday. Hoopla!
Why am I not feeling the love?
Okay. I know you tune in for tales of my demented drunken antics and usually that suffices you, my charming reader, and it’s fine for me too, but as everybody knows this little journal outlet is very one dimensional. For all the crap I do blab about, there’s 80 million other bits of crap that I never mention. There’s big holes where you can make up anything you like about me, if you wanted to, and you’ll never know if the things you think are right.
So, at the moment I’m not really very happy and I don’t know why. I don’t know if you gathered this or not, tell me if you like. Or don’t bother.
I don’t like being too personal here, apart from anything else, I’ve gone down the funny nonsense route with this journal and it’s bloody hard to claw myself out of that and into a window where I open up and reveal something about myself. I’ve done it a couple of times, and I’ve genuinely been flabbergasted and touched by the comments and notes and general all round lovely-ness that comes from you lot when I do it. Even people who read my journal without leaving any notes or comments or whatever – you know who you are – knowing you come back is very refreshing and lovely and groovy.
Am I digressing because I’m avoiding the issue? Hell Yes.
The fact is, I started this journal for whatever reason and I should be able to relax a bit and tell some stuff that’s on my mind from time to time shouldn’t I? In other journals I read about broken relationships, illicit affairs, kinky sex, new romances, troubles at work, everyday nonsense, craving chocolates/booze/drugs (okay, that’s usually me), money troubles, deaths of loved ones and many millions of other issues, dilemmas, worries, troubles, fantasies, dreams and so on. So, I don’t know why I have trouble opening up. Maybe it’s because I’m not locked up. Maybe it’s because I want you to like me for somebody that I’m not (but I don’t think it’s that), maybe it’s because normally I’m fine to tell you about the stupid things and deal with the shitty things myself? Well – who know.
Anyway. More avoiding tactics. Ahem. Here I go (and after all that build up, I can assure you, it’s not even all that juicy).
You know how I love Bandito very very very very very very (x 20 million) much? We’ve been together for a long time and have lived together for a long time and generally, it’s me and him and that’s all there is.
At the moment though, we’re just NOT getting along. I feel split in two, it’s really confusing. We’re constantly bickering, delighting in taking each other the wrong way, fuelling arguments to the point of screaming at each other and not backing down, even when we see the hurt in the others’ eyes and completely ignoring the inner voice who’s saying in a really calm voice ‘just calm down, let this go, it’s really not important, you’re arguing about buying a drill for goodness sake’.
What’s up with that?
As a rule, we have always liked a good argument. We’re feisty wee fuckers and it’s never really bothered us before. We’ve made up and moved on and that’s great. For some people, arguing is refreshing, a necessity, an opportunity to blow away the cobwebs, get whatever it is off our chest and get on with things and that’s generally how we’ve viewed it.
We’re both really vocal and we both swear like troopers so roaring at each other from time to time has been the norm. We decided a long time ago though, that arguing was fine, roaring at each other was fine, but we needed to keep in check what we actually say – the things we called each other in the heat of the moment that we really didn’t mean.
Some people say that words can be the most hurtful of weapons. Me? I’d much rather take a few nastily thrown about words than be hit over the head with a hammer and such like. I can deal with the words. And I’m realistic, I know that the world you’re in during the heat of an argument isn’t the world you live in usually and that you genuinely don’t mean to say those things. It really doesn’t bother me.
Not only that, I can bounce really easily between things. One minute I can be roaring and shouting and the next minute it’s all completely forgotten and back to normal.
This time though, it’s confusing because (take last night for example) we can be kissing and having a laugh and making plans for the weekend and then the next thing? We’re fighting about doing the dishes. It’s ridiculous. And it’s really doing my head in. I don’t want to be this petty stupid wife who moans about making the tea every night and not getting help round the house. I don’t feel like that person, so why do I sound like that when we’re arguing? I find that I’m spouting out the most ridiculous clichés, they’re laughable after the moment’s passed. And I know how ridiculous I sound, but will I back down? Will I fuck.
It’s logger heads. We’re both fucked off with work. We’re both tired. We’re both confused about this because we love each other so much and even when we’re having a go at one another, there’s still nowhere else we’d rather be than at home with each other.
What’s going on?
One half of me thinks I shouldn’t be worrying about this, it’s normal. Every marriage has ups and downs and this is our ‘down’ for the moment. We’re concentrating on the house and not going out and having a laugh and spending money on ourselves and doing the things we love doing and so things are bored and feeling a bit pent up in the house.
The other half of me is saying ‘well, you’ve both talked about how you’ve been craving a quiet life for a while, what’s the fucking problem?’.
Urgh. I can’t even be bothered thinking about this anymore.
I might not post this. And if I do I might take it down again.
I wish I could blame all of this on PMT but no such luck. And no, I’m not pregnant either.
Maybe it’s the full moon.
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In other completely unrelated news, I’ve seen a gorgeous necklace in the window of a shop near me. It’s £50. I want it. I might buy it. It’s naughty. But I want it. It’s green.
Want.
Want.
Want it.
12:22 pm - 10 February 2006
