Time
floats by like a catheter.
Drops
of thought land on my face
like snow from a broken ornament.
Hatred
burns in my veins like a replicating virus.
My
mind tortures me with doubts.
Darkness
envelopes the landscape.
Memories
destroying my enthusiasm.
Lack
of funds equals lack of worth.
My
only talent seems to be self-sabotage.
Someday
my world will reopen.
Sometime
my skills will shine through.
Somehow
I'll release the brakes from my soul.
Some
night soon I'll sleep.
RC 28-11-23
Yesterday's
effort was my 200th blog posting of 2023!
If
I'd known that in advance I might have put more into it and made it more
exciting.
But
I didn't, so I didn't.
In
a triumph of management skills, I've managed to hold off the onslaught of
Christmas music in the office until Friday, which is - alarmingly - December
the 1st. There was lots of negotiation involved, over several days of the past
two weeks, and the others were quite insistent in their enthusiasm, and so the compromise
I had to make was that I would buy everyone else an advent calendar, and
provide a box of Roses (or similar) every Friday until the 22nd Dec, and I
would also pay for an office-only afternoon buffet sometime the week before The
Big Day.
All
that, just to avoid a few festive tunes for a few days extra.
Yeah,
now I'm thinking about it, maybe it wasn't such a triumph after all.
But,
in other news, I'm getting another 'try-out' practice massage from My Beloved
tonight, so... yummy...
RC 27-11-23
Normally,
my night-time imaginings are traumatic, bizarre and unsettling. Last night,
though, I had a dream experience that was wonderful, uplifting and inspiring.
For some unknown reason I had been hired to be the General Manager for the
Baltimore Ravens NFL franchise, and for some unknown reason they had relocated
to Suffolk, so I didn't even have to move out of my current office.
I
was tasked with putting together the budget for the forthcoming season, and the
owners wanted me to spend exactly $160million. And when I say exactly, I MEAN
exactly. Not a single penny either side. They were very insistent on that fact.
So I had a spreadsheet set up on the computer, and I had notebooks in front of
me on the desk, and I was flicking away at an abacus, which is very unusual for
me but somehow made perfect sense within the context of the dream. There were
some complications - mostly involving fees being paid to player's agents - but
after a lot of wrangling and a bit of an adjustment to the arrangements we had
with the guy who mows the field, I was able to deliver what they wanted. And it
felt great. Because it had been a real challenge, but I had applied myself and
achieved what I set out to do.
Why,
you may ask and enquire, did I have this particular dream, and why did it give
me such satisfaction? My interpretation would be that it was influenced by the
Chancellor releasing his Autumn budget this week, and the fact that it was
Thanksgiving in the USA, meaning there were three NFL games on the telly on
Thursday. And - it has to be said - most
of my work involves neverending projects and ongoing issues, so it's not very
often that I get to have that 'task completed and job well done' feeling in my
current job.
Anyway, whatever the motivation and provocation was,
it made a nice change from dreaming about my children burning in fires or
Philippa getting lost in a foreign cave, so it was nice.
RC 26-11-23
Sometimes
the joy is overwhelming
Sometimes
it feels undeserved; accidental
Sometimes
I turn it around; turn it in on myself
Make
it seem bad, feel bad, be bad
Sometimes
it's too much, or not enough
Sometimes
it settles where it should
Sometimes
I question my own certainty
Make
it feel like a weight and a burden
Sometimes
I allow myself a glimmer
Sometimes
I see the wood for the trees
Sometimes
I believe I'm deserving
Make
it more often, please...
RC 23-11-23
I think this might be about Pompeii, but I'm not
sure. It was written while trying to go to sleep, and then I had a waking dream
about a terror attack, so who knows?
Chaos.
Echoes in the darkness.
Emanating from nothing.
Screams, gut-wrenching and brain-freezing.
Dust and heat, then silence.
A lovely voice.
Young; crying; fearful; lost.
Thousands trapped, tortured.
Wallowing in the swallowing mud.
A new landscape.
An end to life.
History.
RC 18-11-23
I feel wasted today. Completely knackered. I'm
blaming Philippa, but 'blaming' her in a good way - I think that massage last
night absolutely wiped me out, in the way that I think they are supposed to. I
feel as if every muscle in my back and shoulders have been removed and replaced
with a soft flannel. In a good way, if that makes sense. Anyway, I'd better get
on - I need to peel myself off my ultra-comfortable-today office chair and get
on with some work. But what I'd really like to do is go to sleep.
I would ask Philippa if we could do this more often, but I fear that if I made it
a nightly event I'd end up too relaxed to work at all, and possibly too relaxed
to even remember to breathe.
RC 17-11-23
We have a party this weekend, that I had completely
forgotten about. (By 'we' I mean my wife and I, not my work venue.)
I can't remember this being mentioned before and I swear I don't even recognise
the name of the person whose birthday, or engagement, (or whatever) is, who
sent the invite. I tried to get out of it by offering to 'sacrifice my own
enjoyment' and stay home to look after the boys, so Philippa could go and have
fun without the family, but she said, "No, no, it's fine, it's a family
event. We're all going."
So now we're all going.
It's quite a drive as well, and obviously we'll have to pack enough stuff to keep
our one-year-old and our nearly-five-year-old safe and comfortable, so I may
have to rent a large trailer to tow behind us just to make sure we can take
everything we need.
I hate to sound uncaring and unsociable but I was really looking forward to a
quiet couple of days at home; building Lego sets with Mathew and watching some
tennis (ATP Tour Finals concludes on Sunday) and some NFL. Now, instead, I'll be
making small talk with people I have nothing in common with and driving for
four hours in total while an energetic youngster complains about being stuck in
a car again.
Or... maybe, just maybe... it'll be a lovely event and I'll make new friends
and have a really nice time and Mathew will be a joy and it'll all be wonderful
and enjoyable.
Why do I always look ahead to things with anxiety and with the expectance of a
negative experience???
Hmmm - that therapist idea is sounding attractive again.
RC 16-11-23
Having
a good day today, thanks. Slept really well last night and seem to have stopped
the tsumani of intrusive thoughts that were troubling me throughout my Monday.
I still don't understand why my mind has to torture me in that way, but it
seems to be something I have to go through occasionally. Just part of being The
Rory, I guess. Maybe that call to a therapist would still be a good idea....
In
other news, I had a meeting with Colette, our newly-permanently-appointed Head
of Children's Entertainment (Planning). (That's not an official title, by the
way, she's just a member of staff, really, but permanent now, not seasonal.)
She
was the one who made the Hallowe'en events sing this year, and I have to say
she has put down some fantastic ideas for Yuletide fun for families this
December. I need to persuade Gavin to release a few funds for some provisions
and craft supplies, but I'm pretty sure that will go well, as my previous
'let's give it a go and see what happens' ideas have ended up being popular and
profitable.
And
Philippa is giving me a practice massage tonight. I am looking forward to
seeing how her technique and touch have improved now she is further along with
her studies!
('Practice massage' doesn't mean anything dodgy or
specific, by the way, it just means she is using me to practice her massaging.
That's all.)
RC 16-11-23
Fuelled
by lack of sleep and insanity, I have found myself unexpectedly wallowing in my
own past today. I keep having weird little flashbacks to things I did at
university, or things that happened when I was young at home, or things I did
wrong in relationships in the years before The Philippa.
Why
is this happening?
I
have no idea, but I seem unable to stop it. It's been a long, long time since I
dwelled on any of this stuff, and yet today it seems to be dominating my thoughts
and repelling my best efforts to reject it. It's as if one minor memory opened
up a door that was subsequently kicked in by everything I've done before that I
think might be questionable or shameful. I mean - it's not as if my younger
years were packed full of immoral or criminal behaviour; in fact in many ways
my past life is embarrassingly uneventful, but today I seem to be recriminating
myself ruthlessly and mercilessly and unforgivingly. Every little misplaced
comment, or misinterpreted emotion, or strange motive is being thrown at me by
my own mind and it's making me feel quite horrible.
Maybe
it's a sign that I have changed as a person, and that my 39-year-old self is
looking back on its previous person as one it is not proud of. Maybe it's a
consequence of being a parent - I want to be a great role model for my children
and I have to accept that at times I simply have not been that (even though I
wasn't a parent when I 'committed' those supposed 'atrocities'.)
Maybe
I just have a really good life right now, but being a slightly depressive and
self-loathing personality, I am having to look back to find reasons to feel bad
about myself.
Whatever
the catalyst, it has affected me so much today that I am seriously thinking of
looking up local therapists and seeing if I can get a quick appointment.
Actually, having re-read what I've just written, I
think I may have the answer myself, without the need to approach a specialist:
I am rapidly approaching 40, and it is obviously affecting my subconscious more
than I wish to admit....
RC 13-11-23
Silence
is the worst.
Noise
- chatter, radio, songs, traffic - is a defence against the darkness, barricading
the turrets of my mind against the invading army of intrusive thoughts.
Night
is the hardest.
Light
- lifegiving, solar beauty - fills my days with hope. When I can see the world,
it feels less scary. The imagination is safely locked away.
My inner demon is a cunning foe.
He
hides, he listens, he picks out key phrases from conversations and throws them
at me when I'm alone and unguarded.
He
whispers in my ear when I am feeling joyous, reminding me that I don't deserve
this, that it will end.
I
wish I had the power to control him.
I
wish I could laugh off his comments.
I
wish his twisted wisdom didn't influence how I feel.
I
wish my love for others wasn't altered by his lies.
I
wish I could destroy him, as easily as he destroys me.
I
wish he was as powerless as I feel when he controls me.
I
wish I could shut him the fuck up.
RC 12-11-23
With recent weather
We see Suffolk changed and damp
New look to old home
So much rain did fall
The fields resemble rivers
and farms are flooded
Biblical landscape
All is soaked, and soaked in grey
Noah is needed...
RC 10-11-23
I've
booked a little holiday!
It was pointed out to me that I have rather a lot of 'accumulated
entitlement' days to use up. I thought I'd carved through them when I was spending
time with Rian, but apparently that comes from a different 'allocation pot'. I
don't see how it works, but I'm not going to argue. (A little pointer for you
there if you are plotting your own future career path: management - who you
would think should be onsite more often than others - tend to get a lot more
holiday) So I've booked us a little visit to a nice family-friendly hotel a
little further south and a little further inland. We could have had a free visit
to one of Gavin's other sites, but last thing I want is to be in a caravan, and
as much as the idea of a seaside break and a Winter walk on the beach is
tempting, we wouldn't want to be holed up in a mobile home while Storm Something-or-Other
batters the outside world and renders the whole trip pointless. So we'll be
comfortable and cosy in a well-reviewed 4-star family-run establishment at
least 150 miles from the coast.
RC 9-11-23
Well, it's not just the people I work with that
are going a bit hell-for-leather with Xmas Xcitement is it? Every shop I go
into now seems to have been invaded by a tinsel artist and been completely
redecorated and rebranded. I suppose I should be grateful that it has only
started apace in November, and I suppose I should remember that until very
recently I myself was a part of this planning-so-far-ahead-its-embarrassing
melee that goes on in the world of retail every Autumn. I have so many horrible
memories of my time at the supermarket, and many of them are based around the
awful meetings we had to endure - normally in Spring - about how to maximise
December profits and how to manipulate the populous to get them buying earlier
and earlier each year. I really could go
on about it for hours, but I really don't want to. What's the point of leaving
something behind you if all you're going to do is relive it years later?
No thanks.
So instead I shall tell you that I am now amusing myself in the quiet times at
work by practising the harmonica again, for the first time in ages. I've told
my colleagues I'm learning 'Jingle Bells' ready for the Christmas party, but in
truth I'm trying to get my head around the solo from Neil Young's 'Harvest
Moon'. I have this ambition to perform it at a beach party next year, late in
Summer, while the sun slowly sinks below the horizon. That gives me about nine
months to get it right, which even by my amateurish standards should be more than
enough.
RC 8-11-23
The
annual 'When Is The Right Time To Start Listening to Christmas Tunes In The
Office?' debate has erupted in full force this week. I am keeping out of it
this year by hiding in my own room and playing my own choice of music loudly
for myself to enjoy. I am finding the original motion picture soundtrack of
"Pirates of the Caribbean" particularly pleasing at the moment. Very
stirring, very bold, and the perfect background accompaniment while I tap away
at the keyboard trying to finish a proposal for a new extension to the leisure
club, which we are hoping to get in place by next Summer. It's no wonder I get confused about what time
of year it is - in late Summer I'm planning Hallowe'en, by mid-September I'm
trying to finalise Christmas, and now two days after Bonfire Night I'm already
having to think about June 2024.
But, all that aside, I am NOT ready to start hearing
Last sodding Christmas.
RC 7-11-23
It
was, lest you had forgotten, young Rian's first birthday yesterday. My youngest
son is one already!!! I have no idea how that has happened. I guess, when
they're at their littlest, you are just taking it one minute at a time and
keeping them alive as best you can, and gradually those minutes add up and
before you know it, 12 months have gone. We celebrated in typical low-key Chesworth
fashion and had about 40 different people dropping in at different times during
the day. The house is full of new teddy bears and lots of flowers. And
streamers. And balloons. And God knows what else... People really are very
generous when there are young children involved, which is lovely, and Mathew is
now well and truly in the mood for Christmas after seeing so many presents in
the house yesterday.
I seem to be mellowing somewhat when it comes to social interaction. Time was
that I would dread the thought of people just turning up unannounced and do
everything in my power to avoid any kind of open-house, at-home shenanigans.
But in recent years it seems to have become quite a welcome thing. Maybe the
simple act of becoming a father has changed me on that front - possibly because
I'm so used to the house being in a state of utter chaos anyway that filling it
with unexpected guests barely makes me blink. Or maybe it's because I've got so
used to dealing with people all the time at work. Whatever the reason might be,
I am enjoying it and I am proud of my progress, even if I don't feel I can take
credit for it.
I will leave you with a quote from Samantha at work today: "Has it been a
year? It's about time you started working on the next one really..." If I
could find a reason to fire her, I would.
RC 6-11-23
Been
a strange week. I think I suffered a bit from the old 'After the Lord Mayor's
show' virus because last week was just so busy and this week just so isn't.
Plus - for the first time since May half-term - I am not at work on a Saturday!
So that just feels a bit weird and has left me feeling a bit unsettled.
The good thing is that it's Fireworks weekend, which
is one of my favourite annual human-created events; and Mathew is now old
enough to know what is going on and enjoy it! The bad thing is that the weather
is threatening to torpedo every available planned display and we may be reduced
to buying our own box of sparklers and spending an hour on the beach. Which,
now I've written it down here, sounds like it could actually be quite
delightful. I've always preferred the smaller, more intimate Bonfire Night
affairs, where a small village all gathers at the scout hut and enjoys mugs of
soup and a hot dog, rather than the 10,000-people-in-a-muddy-field, overcrowded,
overpriced 'Extravaganzas' that big towns and cities put on. So maybe we narrow
it right down to only four or five people and have The Ultimate Intimate Experience.
Or we could just do what we did during the 2020 Lockdown and watch loads of YouTube
clips of huge fireworks displays while sitting indoors in the warm and eating
crisps.
RC 4-11-23
