Wjy do people bother? I honestly don’t understand why anyone lies to a kid. All this bullshit about childhood magic being shattered by growing up is only relevent if you’ve told the kid a bunch of crap in the first place. If you’ve never been lied to as a kid then there is no shocking truth that disappoints you. No illusions to be shattered. And it isn’t traumatic if you never believed in Santa Claus, I know someone who never got the lie, and never thought they had missed out. How can you miss an illusion you never had?

My parents have told me 3 lies in my life. They are Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, and “You can have a puppy

“It has always been the remit of children and halfwits to point out that the emperor has no clothes. But the halfwit remains a halfwit, and the emperor remains an emperor”

Sandman – Neil Gaimen

Disclaimer: The above title is nothing to do with the remainder of the post, and was put there for reasons including “I felt like it”, and “it’s my fucking blog”.

Interesting facts:

Vodafone are a shower of arseholes.

Bill phones are approximately a quarter the price of pay as you go, yet I could not afford one before.

I can now own things which I cannot carry.

Midnight is a stupid time for the tube to stop running.

London busses are filled with thieves, dickheads, and crazy people

I have started to like other people a lot more frequently.

Boring stuff:

I have been losing a little weight since I arrived. Just to supply some background, my weight has widely varied since adolescence. At 14 I was a tubby little lump of sarcasm, At 17 I was skinny enough to have visible ribs, a perfect stomach, and was totally obsessed with my weight. By the time I left college I was getting a bit chubby, and over the following year I got to somewhat overweight. The difference being that I couldn’t care less, and just couldn’t really motivate myself to do much about it. I’m not sure whether I have been gradually losing a little at a time over the past 6 months, or whether I have just been getting used to my appearance, but I think I look a bit better now.

So recently, someone explained a new concept, which honestly had not previously occurred to me. Which was: “Stop eating when you’re not hungry anymore

I’m a cynic. So it’s reasonably predictable that I think Valentine’s Day is a crock of shit. To anyone who enjoys it, fair enough, you go ahead, but I can’t, so the next person who tells me I need to relax and appreciate the day thats in it can just go have an anal bleaching, my treat. Relax with a stinging pink asshole, fuckheads.

Why do I feel that this holiday is bullshit? The obvious reply is the complete made-upness of the whole thing. It has no basis in anything but the retail industry. But the real problem isn’t that its arbitrary. Its that it is the most predictable, boring, entirely unromantic holiday known to man.

If someone spontaneously gave me a rose one day, I would be deeply impressed, and highly complimented, and would very much appreciate the gesture. But any gift given on Valentine’s day can never be a surprise, and can almost never be original. It’s all been done kids. You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake.

I have had great Valentine’s day presents, I’m not bitter from a lifetime of secret unfulfilled desires for hearts and flowers on February 14^th. The first couple of real boyfriends that I had during any Valentine’s Day performed admirably, I have to admit. But it irks me to realise that those gifts would have been better if they’d been given at any other time. Their thoughtfulness was partly wasted because of the banal nature of the day. Not to mention that attempting to go anywhere on said day is about as romantic as a supermarket queue. Except that it involves a lot more standing around and waiting, after which you finally get seated, order from a set menu, and receive slightly overcooked, not so great food, which you then pay a fortune for. Stunning.

In my last relationship we ignored it completely, which I found I was entirely happy with. Of course, this would have happened by default whether I had wanted to or not I think, because there is very little hope that he would have ever actually remembered that the 14^th Feb had any cultural significance, and I realised yesterday that I find it quite difficult to recall myself. I find it a non-event, and I’m happy to do so. I spent yesterday evening sipping champagne in the Tate Modern, with two good friends, and having a wonderful time. Its probably the best 14^th Feb I’ve ever actually had.

I think the point here is spontaneity. Or maybe just lack of obligation. If I think someone has given me a present because they have felt obliged to, I will be totally incapable of treating it as a romantic gesture. I’ll still appreciate the gift itself, but it will not mean the same as something given because they actually wanted to give it to me. It was pointed out to me recently that men do not give sudden surprise presents for no reason. However, that’s a load of horse-shit. The best presents I have ever gotten have been surprises, with no motive but wanting me to have them.

Maybe you can’t be a cynic and a romantic at the same time, I have been told I was both at various stages. I suppose if I were to choose a way to be treated I’d go for as a cynic every time. But somewhere I have some sort of romance in my soul, much to my chagrin. And that, not the cynic, is the part of me that fucking hates Valentine’s Day.

Yes, my little sister is saving up to buy a house. An actual house. This is a girl who makes buildings out of gingerbread, owns approximately 500 hundred assorted pink cushions, and by first year in college was still unaware that a return flight did not mean you had to get there yourself so that they could bring you back.

My horror at this turn of events is superseded only by my immense curiousity over how she will manage this. Currently she is in her third (or perhaps final?) year of college, in a course that is something to do with minding babies. Since it takes 4 years to learn, I can only assume that it contains more information than “do not drop baby on head

I suppose at this juncture giving a bit of an update without ranting would be a good thing from my mother’s point of view, so here goes.

• The water in my apartment was fixed quite quickly
• My laptop was fixed, but is now full of crap again, because the bulldog firewall is non-existent. But at least I know how to fix it.
• I went to see the Producers, a thoroughly enjoyable and amusing show
• The French lessons aren’t going too badly
• The presentation for the course went fine, and the course was actually quite good
• I love my job, no matter how much I complain about it

Yes, I do in fact really love my job. On the bad days it is stressful, difficult, and they expect too much from me. On the good days it is exciting, challenging, and they think I am capable of things. Of course the only thing that changes from one day to the next is me, and the bad days are currently fairly sparse. So I think its mostly me being tired, or grumpy. Not that this ever normally happens of course, my sweet disposition and natural cheerfulness are a wonderful blessing in that respect. And if you believe that, believe also that the gods will bless you with a happy life if you send me all of your money.

Occasionally, I wonder if I should miss Limerick. Then I remember that its a shithole I hated living in. My friends made it bearable, they made it fun, they made it an amazing experience that I will always remember with nostalgia and amusement. My family make it an anchor, a certainty in life when certainties are hard to come by. But I’m never coming home.

Yes, London is a bit stinky. I’m not certain how I failed to notice this before, perhaps I have had a cold since I arrived. In any case I noticed it today. I wonder if this is symbolic in some way.

My brain hurts. I spend this morning working flat out, because my boss wanted something done in “a couple of hours”. It took 3 and a half. I have not worked out yet whether she knows her original estimate was amusingly unrealistic, or whether she thinks I should have been much faster. Had I ever coded anything this way before I doubtless would have been much faster, as it is .NET is still a bit of an alien world, and our core software even more so.

I was told this afternoon that I am going on a course on presentation skills tomorrow, for which I have to have prepared a presentation. This starts at 9am tomorrow and I am more than busy all day today, so I am not certain from where they would like me to extract one, but its coming right out of my ass, and thats all there is to it.

Work is fucking difficult, its incredibly hectic and very challenging. I love this job, but I am wondering how well I can handle it for long periods of time. Though I have been told that my boss likes to throw people in the deep end to see what happens, so maybe this is part of a test. In a normal working day I concentrate for a far higher percentage of the time than I am used to, or think is normal.

One of my workmates just came over to ask what presentation I would do in the morning, so I said I was going to speak on my past life as a circus performer. He then went on to speak about his journey to literacy while he was in prison. I think I have found another crazy person.