Sunday, August 12, 2001

The whole place goes crazy in August, to say it comes alive is wrong, it's hotching with people all wanting something different from their mundane lives.This can be a bit irritating for people who have to live here all the time, amazingly, fireworks at midnight every night for a month or so does tend to get a bit boring and yeah, sometimes people do actually want to get from one side of the town to the other in a hurry without having to have the bus diverted round the back of obscure little side streets. It is exciting, liberating to dress as you please (mind, I do that anyway) and be part of the 24 hour city. There's two schools of thought about the flyers. Do you take every flyer offered, and give the performers hope that someone will actually attend their show, even if you drop the flyer into a bin later? Or do you say look buster, I've got a million better things to do than attend your pathetic amateur set of sketches, so don't waste your flyers on me. (Apart from saying that takes about 30 seconds which could be better spent). I find it's better just to take the flyer and, if I'm in a good mood, say how interesting it sounds (interesting - such a neutral word). I think that hope is one of the biggest motivators there can be, you need hope to keep going, and, like giving blood, it's not so very hard to do.

But, as usual, I won't be seeing much. It's not fair right now, either to me or my wallet, to watch a show with half an eye, while everything else is humming frantically about financial analysis. I feel somewhat indignant about this, as I don't normally fuss about exams, but there's a lot riding on this, like whether I continue being a student at all. Dropping out is not something my puritanic work ethic finds appealling, besides, I rather like getting student discounts! . It's the feeling that if I start something, I should finish it, even if it's more difficult than anticipated. The fact that there's factors I didn't take into account just means that I did an incomplete risk analysis and that's hard enough to accept in any case! Normally, I (like to think I) consider things very carefully and minimise all areas of vulnerability. I found this out very early in life when someone tried to blackmail me. Perhaps it wasn't a serious attempt - a boyfriend of the time trying to hang on to a relationship he perceived was slipping away from him. The reaction he got was probably not what he wanted. The relationship was terminated forthwith, I told everyone concerned that I wasn't a saint (that was very hurtful, because people like to keep their illusions) and all subsequent relationships were affected by this.

Someone asked me a while ago what I look for with online relationships. I think my reaction was a shock - it certainly was to me. I need a good sense of humour, because you've got to laugh sometimes if the alternative is crying or withdrawing - I know my sense of humour is, well, I describe it as dark green. It's not black, but can be very cruel. I don't deliberately (usually) try to hurt people, but it can happen by accident. More than that, though, I need good conversation and that (and I know I sound intellectually snobbish when I say this) normally means a *very* good standard of education. I don't want to play chess every five minutes, but I want the chance to chat about anything - Victorian railways, alternate history, the spikes of cacti, fossils - I need to talk with someone with an intense interest in the world. Physical appearance, online, is a secondary consideration, though I do sometimes look at people in the street and shudder, rather, wondering if I'm having online relationships with people who look like that. On the other hand, I don't have perfect legs, I'm shorter than I'd really like to be (though high heels really help there), if life was ideal, I'd be a redhead (thank you, God, for henna). I've got a long scar down one arm - the result of a serious accident. The surgeons were very careful to position it so that it would be covered by the fat of middle age (!!!! well, that's what they meant, I'm sure they were more tactful in what they said) and for years I avoided wearing sleeveless dresses. It was quite refreshing to realise that I put one on yesterday, without even thinking of the scar, and when I did realise, half way through the evening, and looked down, I couldn't see it. (Looking down now, in the bright light of day, yes, it's visible, but so what - I'm not going to let a minor physical disfigurement dictate what I'm going to wear).

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