Today I met a friend in the morning but I left our meeting on a bit of a downer, my heart jumping about in my chest. This often happens when I sense that I should be more supportive but do not know how to show this deeply felt empathy. Sometimes I am under the vague impression that my opinion, even if specifically requested, may not be taken into consideration. Perhaps this is down to my overly-friendly attitude to people, or at least that’s what I was told once. ‘Cut the crap, be like everyone else, act like you prefer to hear yourself talk rather than enjoy listening and you will soon find that people will stop bothering you’, he said.
At the time, it made me giggle, as it very much sounded like a Wildean truism: ‘You’re always talking nonsense! Well, it’s better than listening to it’. But then I know I couldn’t be any different, for, when someone speaks of life ailments, I am always invested. Fact is, I care, so there, shoot me for it. I’ve got enough going in my life without thinking over others’ issues too; yet, when I try and do so, I realise how easy it is to get lost in the proverbial teacup. Heck, sometimes I get lost in a teaspoon or on the tip of a cocktail stick.
I don’t know whether it’s down to the recent forced absence from my notes or whether it’s down to a sudden spark of inspiration. Whatever it is I don’t care to intellectualise it; I am steam-rolling through a lot of work at present which means that in a few weeks’ time I should be able to look at the world while completely free to take on new opportunities. As I was leafing through my notebook earlier I came across a baffling entry that sits right between a set of bullet points about Frankenstein and Northanger Abbey and another one about Milton. It is dated 19/04 and reads as follows:
Things I’ll buy when I get a new job and money’s no longer a temporary drag:
A set of Elemis facials, approximately £ 120;
A Dyptique candle, the John Galliano one, £ 36;
A pair of shoes from Harvey Nichols, up to £ 300;
A Chanel bag, quilted, possibly black or maybe red, up to £ 1200 depending on size and materials;
A Diane Von Furstenberg dress from Matches or NaP, although not a priority, £ 370;
A sturdy ironing board and a really good iron, probably £ 100 and a priority.
Underneath the list I also scribbled, WHAT? This is less than I used to make in a month! Why did I not buy all this stuff when I could?!
Reading this list made me smile, even though I recall being rather annoyed when I then set pen to paper. Now I am wondering how on earth the ironing board and the ‘really good iron’ made their way there, considering that even a moron can tell that all I am seeking is a dash of reckless frivolity. And really, I use bags and candles far, far more and more often than I use the iron and the board.
I am also baffled to read that a Diane Von Furstenberg dress was not considered ‘a priority’ only a few weeks back. Strange that one; it surely is now, as I must have spent about two hours on Matches and Net à Porter only three days ago filling up my wish lists with different styles. But isn’t that what everyone does when the most exciting post to come through the door is the occasional Help The Aged plastic bag? I call this forward planning. Wading through a transition, as I like to say, does not mean that I’ve stopped aspiring.