Mootpoint

I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who gets these, even if Tim does think I’m weird for having them. The Guilts are what I’d term my psychological hangover. They are what happens at around 7 in the morning (almost always on the dot, strangely enough) after a night of drinking. I lie in bed (/couch/floor/wherever it is I ended up) while my mind goes through every single social interaction that happened the night before with a fine tooth comb – putting together a litany of imagined insults, poorly judged comments, misconstrued glances, or just plain highly embarrassing situations that I managed to say, do or get myself into during the course of the evening. I lie there wondering how I’ll ever talk to person A again, or how a return to person B’s house would ever be possible. Or perhaps how I’ll engineer events so that from this point on I’ll never run into person C’s cousin again. Just, you know, for example. It’s great fun. Really, you should try it some time if you don’t already indulge – nothing like a little self-fear and loathing to start the day.

They would probably be better named The Anxieties, I guess, cos I end up gripped with an intense feeling of self-doubt and lie there in a hugely anxious state for about an hour while my brain feverishly works through all the possible connotations and permutations of the things what I said, did, or possibly even thought at the time. Outcomes of things that in all honesty I probably never did, or even if I did do, that other people probably would not have even noticed anyway.

It doesn’t actually take a lot of alcohol the night before to bring these on, which is a bugger. Of course, the more I’ve drunk, the hazier the memories, and the longer it takes me to reconstruct in my mind events, and the more anxious I become…

Interestingly, while my brain is busy putting me through hell, actual me (whatever the right word is – Id? Ego? Trucker Steve?) is sitting on the inside going “Hey brain, it’s cool, calm down for crissake and let me get some sleep”. This never works, so more often than not I end up getting up at some stupidly early hour of the day in order to force my mind to think of other things, like breakfast and the related physical aspects of said hangover.

So why the rather gloomy blog this close to Christmas? Well, the party at Luke’s last night was a good one, but now it’s the morning… you see?

But anyway, now that that’s out of my system I’ll get on to what I originally meant to write about today – Merry Christmas to one and all, whatever far-flung places you may find yourself in as this year draws to a close.

Interestng and well-researched, but probably not overly useful, factoid of the day: there are 63 Members of the European Parliament who have last names starting with the letter B. Knowing is good, right? In this case, probably not so much… truly a Suck Thing ™.

Seriously though, headphones really do make a difference when listening to music. I’ve been trying unsuccessfully for a few months, on and off, to get into Death Cab For Cutie (as recommended by Libby) and failing miserably. Today I “borrowed” some headphones from off an MA student’s desk and gave it one last shot. The difference is quite stunning, and while I’m yet to rave about them (have I ever played you any Damien Rice? No really, I really should. No?) I am now officially warming to them.

Good to know, I hear you say, but what is the point of this post? Well, apart from being proof that I post more often than once every three months, this is about as official an invitation as is going to be issued for this year’s annual Boxing Day picnic. We’ll all be down at Mona Vale from midday-ish, eating and drinking and possibly even being merry. Definitely playing flag football though, and cricket, and no doubt jumping in the river to retrieve a ball or two. Adam won’t be down though, so the ducks are safe. And afterwards everyone is invited back to my place for a bbq and further socialising. Huzzah!

And also, a big happy birthday to Mr Tremewan for today.

Almost three months. That’s some kind of record. And it’s not like they’ve been particularly uneventful months, to say the least.

So why no blogging? Um… ooo, look! Over there! It’s Jacques Cousteau and he looks like he’s making off with a whole pile of Xanadu albums! And we even had them ready for Christmas this year as well. Dang. Ah well, y’all didn’t really want them anyway, right?

The biggest piece of news (for those of you who haven’t been paying particularly close attention, or who are perhaps living overseas) is that Mel and I are no longer together. This means I am living all on my lonesome in deepest, darkest Mona Vale. Given that this is the first time I’ve actually lived properly alone (even that flat on Otara Street technically had someone else in it) it’s been somewhat of strange experience. You definitely lose a lot of motivation to do things such as cook, and perhaps clean (not that there was a lot of motivation to do that in the first place), and the feeling of being alone is especially acute when you realise that you lack someone to say good morning or goodnight to. Added to this general aloneness is the loss of the kitten, who quite rightfully moved in with Mel, and a flat that was pretty small for the three of us has become quite a large spacious area for just the one of me.

Still, all this happened a little over two months ago, and so the blank spaces around the house have slowly started to fill up, parties have been had, and the flat’s feeling more “mine” now. I’ve finally dragged out the espresso machine, and now I remember that the best thing about la cafetera is that the house smells of coffee now. Mmm, coffee. Mel and I are still good friends, partners in excellent theatre crime (come see HAIR, you’ll love it – singing, dancing, perhaps even some acting. Definitely some nudity anyway.), and share custody of Thomasina (she’s staying over Christmas, so no going away at New Year’s for me). I’ve even got a bbq. We should have one one of these nights.

The changes have been pretty damn painful at times, but on balance, I think that things are better than they were. I feel very positive about the next few months, and definitely excited about the coming year.

And speaking of the imminent celebration of the coming year, I think you’ll find at the vey least Tim and myself down at Triptych… which is about as close to a plan as I’m making this year.

Oh, and as Ben rightly pointed out: Best. Game. Ever.