Crimbo confessions

It’s almost Christmas.

Firstly, I received my copy of The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl — Shauna’s lard-busting memoir. She said (over a text), Don’t tell me if you hate it because I’ll cry. Shauna, the introduction made me want to cry. I’ve read till right before you leave Oz for the UK, and loving it so far. There’s something even more intimate about reading her memoir, which is based on her diet blog, than reading her blog(s) on their own. Weird, I know.

The Christmas holiday has so far been about painting. We painted the walls in the bedroom today. We still need to prep one wall (the plaster ain’t quite dry yet) for wallpapering, paint the ceiling, paint the cornice (Neil has just patched the bits that needed patched), and finally, paint the skirting and door (that actually needs to be replaced due to non-closing warpiness, but we have our priorities and door stoppers are cheap to buy).

I could just say that I’ve been really busy with work (I have been — this fortnight’s break is a godsend, but I’m shitting myself thinking of how much I need to do when I go back into the office), but the truth is I’m not as, er, candid about things going on in my life right now. I’ve been considering setting up an anonymous blog and using an atrocious template just so I can vent, but I’ve decided that’s not a good idea (writing style possibly too distinctive in the *cough* freestyle use of the English language *cough*).

Basically, this last year has really tested my patience (my patience failed about a month ago). I have recently discovered that I am similar to my father in that once I have decided that I don’t like someone, it’s pretty fucking hard to change that opinion. That doesn’t really bother me, since I live by the saying Behaviour reflects personality. I do not appreciate someone making stuff up about me in order to accuse me of something I haven’t done just so they can win an argument or score an imaginary point.

It’s mostly my fault that I haven’t been exercising in several months. It’s my fault that I live too far from work and I can’t afford the time to go to the gym after dinner, because by the time I’ve finished eating it’s time for a shower and bed. Neil plans (his plans don’t get very far, I’m going to nag ‘im about this) to join his Uni gym as an alumni member, which means I can join a gym near the office and our workout / shower / bus home / dinner can coincide.

My general malaise has made me pretty fucking dull. One major thing I need to do is start doing stuff again. I’m scared of looking for too many things, too many choices causing decision paralysis and all that.

Life isn’t bad but it’s overwhelmingly frustrating.

• 24 Dec 2007

• Thinking