Trouble

There's gonna be some, shortly. I've had a look at everything I have, and everything I am, and everything I want, and I've come to the conclusion that almost everything has got to change.

I'm terrified. There are a million and one thoughts flying through my head right now, and aside from one or two oh-that'll-be-a-relief style thoughts, they're all pretty frightening. But the thought that scares me most, is the thought that 5-10-15 years from now, I'll have exactly the same things as I do now.

I cannot live like this forever. I don't want to hurt anyone, but that includes myself. I want the chance to make my life the way *I* want it, without any inferference from anyone else. My kids, it goes without saying, are part of 'my life' and their obvious interaction with me is in no way interference. But as for anyone else who's involved in my day-to-day life...

I should not have gotten married so young. SO young. So YOUNG. I was foolish and brainwashed and immature, and I am so sorry for the hash that I've made of this, but I don't want to keep making it. I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I know what I need to do.

It's like that prayer that some people (my dad included, lol) are meant to pray every day--God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference... I am trying to scrape up the courage to change those things that are within my power to change.

But, oh. It takes so much courage sometimes, to do the right thing. And I am such a coward, in so many ways.

And as for serenity while doing courageous things...

Yeah. Well. Courage over serenity, is just going to have to be my motto.

Random Rant

Do you know what really narks me off?

People who think that the only thing that matters is the degree of wrongdoing. You know the ones I mean--yeah, I stole some money out of your purse, but I only took some change so it's okay; yeah, I used your name on this office memo, but it's a good memo, so what do you care; yeah, I slapped my kid, but it didn't leave a mark, so it's fine.

People like that drive me round the proverbial fucking bend.

I work for a bank. I use the term 'work' loosely, but my endless supply of sick days and holidays aside, when I'm working, I answer the telephone and help people sort out their finances. This OFTEN involves sorting out complaints, because like any huge soulless corporation, we fuck up a lot, and mange to screw over perfectly nice, reasonably intelligent people so many times that they are reduced to shouting, swearing, tear-shedding imbeciles. Today, for some reason, I am reminded of a phonecall I took a couple of years back.

This was shortly after we, the customer service people, the lowliest of lowly advisors, the absolute bottom of the call-centre food-chain, were given 'empowerment limits'--i.e., instead of running every refund by our managers before agreeing it, we were told that we could refund up to a certain amount of money within our discretion. Naturally there were still rules regarding appropriate refund decisions, the primary rule being, NEVER refund unless the customer SPECIFICALLY asks you to... and if possible, find a way to decline their request anyway.

The following is the more or less accurate description of a call I took, just after being given the freedom to obey my conscience, instead of my T/L.

[beep] Me: "Hello, thank you for calling ShatWest, my name's Azifyu Kaer, how may I help?


Random Southern Wifey: Oh, hello, sorry to trouble you; I opened a savings account a few months back, and it was done incorrectly, and I'm trying to get some money back..."

You know, I can't be arsed with this lol. I'm not getting into the entire conversation, but basically, we'd opened an account without her permission, and she'd lost some interest because of it. I don't remember the exact amount, but it was 50-odd p. Less than 60p, for sure.

And it was blatantly, obviously our error, she'd logged 3 separate complaints, been fobbed off by at least half a dozen advisors and one manager, and now, she was calling up to see if I could help her. That's what she said. Could I help her.

I logged a fourth (FOURTH) complaint for her. I referenced the other complaints in my notes on the system. I refunded her 50+p, apologised about a hundred times, and agreed, loudly and wholeheartedly, at her statement that, 'it's not so much the money, but, well, I know it's a cliche, but it's the principle of the thing.'

Too right it is. After that call, my boss came over to give me some feedback--I just looked at her. It's the only time in my entire career that *she's* backed down from *me*. Because really, people know when they're doing wrong, don't they? But they just go ahead and do it anyway.

Sometimes people make me sick.

She's So Vulnerable

The above is (I presume) the name of a Roxette song... certainly the phrase itself appears a number of times in the song, mostly in the chorus and the repetitive fade-out at the end, so it's a fair assumption. Before I go off on a tangent--because you know I can--I'm going to remark on the point of bringing up that song; namely, the fact that every time I hear it, it makes me think of myself.

I genuinely don't know why I am the way I am. Was I born like this? Overly sensitive and frightened of being hurt and generally cowardly? Or has life made me this way, with all the doors it slams in my face, and all the rugs it snatches out from under my feet, and all the people who drop me in great big piles of smelly shit? Do I do this to myself, with all my sad songs and meaningful movies and heartbreaking books? Is it somehow my fault that I have the soul of a poet, the brain of a psychologist, and the broken, bitter heart of a scared little girl?

Either way. My fault or not, I AM overly... prone to being wounded.

I'm so sorry that sometimes, that makes me all the more prone to being wounding, as well.

Ranting

I use it as a release valve. If you've ever seen a psychologist in any way other than just passing him on the street, you'll have heard the idea that depression is just anger turned inward. I try to avoid depression, by SPEWING as much rage and bile and venom outward, as I possibly can. Most of the time, I manage to avoid hurting most people. There's usually someone I piss off, if I'm in a mood--not one specific person, it varies, depending on location/opportunity/etc--but aside from the fact that I usually catch someone a glancing blow with my barbs, insults, caustic observations and general fit-pitching, I limit the damage I cause fairly successfully.

I know I'm a narky bitch. I know I wind you guys up. I know I'm a lot of work. But I don't know any other way to be... other than defeated.

I can either rage against everything, or just give in. It has always been my way, my goal, my ideal, to stand and fight, if I believe my cause is just, but... oh. Just lately. Everything seems to have gotten so much harder than it used to be.

I was thinking about it the other day... I don't care about bears chained and forced to dance in Pakistani circuses. I don't care about kittens left in dumpsters. I care about starving children in the developing world, but only enough to give them my spare change; I'm not gonna be writing any letters to my congressman or crying over it. I care about children being beaten and sexually abused, but I only care £5 a month; I won't be answering any helplines myself, or lobbying for government change.

I care that my daughter doesn't speak, but I'm tired of walking the line between trying to educate her, and trying to change the person she is. Don't speak, my love. You're my heart anyway... and, I don't care what you do. I'll love you anyway, and that's all I've got the energy to do, so just do as you feel.

I care that my son gets overlooked. Hi, Bunnyman. I forget to cuddle you sometimes, because your sister doesn't want cuddles... I'll give you a squeeze now, sit you on my lap for a few minutes, and then continue on with my day for the next 3 hours, and I don't care, because some days, it's all I can do to change you and feed you and give you a smile and a 'Hi, Bunnyman,' and this is one of them.

I'm tired of this. I am just so tired of this. I just want it to end.

Do you ever feel... just... tired? It's been a rough few days, and that's not even the worst part. The worst part is, I *almost* had a way out, and then... well. These things happen, don't they?

I am so defeated right now, I can barely muster the energy to type this.

Now, as always, if I want something done, I'll have to do it myself. And it's alright for people to tell me that I need to do it myself; however--these are generally the same people who lived with their parents until they moved in with their fiance, or people who live with friends and pay a pittance in what they laughingly call 'rent', and other people who, in short, have at least 3 different sets of friends/family members within a 10-mile radius that they can run to if their shit hits their proverbial fan... I have no such luxury. I have no safety net. This tightrope walk is all me, and I'm about to fling myself through the air and hopefully manage to grab the flying trapeze before I land with a bone-splintering thud on the ground below.

This is the last time I'm doing this. I don't have the strength to do this anymore. I have spent the last 2 years screaming and raging and begging to be released, and if I can't make it happen this time, I am just going to stop.

My Daughter

I tried to brush her hair today. It took me an hour, and it's maybe a third of the way done, and she screamed so hard for the first 30 minutes that she burst dozens of tiny blood vessels underneath her jawline, you can see them, clear as septicaemia, little plum-and-grape-and-strawberry-coloured pinpricks, beautiful and terrifying under her ethereally pale, almost blue-white skin... and I'm going to have to go in there now, and finish brushing her hair, because I can't let today's work be in vain. It's taken me 3 weeks to build up enough of an emotional... reservoir... of strength, to even do that much. I'll have to persevere.

But. Oh, I wish one of us could be less sensitive. If she has to suffer so, why do I have to suffer with her? It makes it worse, I'm so ineffective, so wary of harming her irreversibly, that sometimes, I don't do anything at all...

In the ideal sort of world, neither of us would have to suffer. In the next-best world, I'd be the one suffering, and she'd be happy and healthy and secure, and oblivious to my pain... I wish I could switch places with her. What parent doesn't wish that, when their child hurts? But I *mean* it. I'm whining, uselessly, predictably, boringly, and I don't care; why does she have to be in pain?

She is so beautiful. That's not maternal arrogance, some sort of puffed-up familial pride, some vanity regarding my own genetic superiority... she is beautiful. Somehow, that makes everything worse. Somehow, amidst all the worry and sorrow and unfathomable suffering, it's the fact that she's beautiful, that breaks your heart.

My Babies

Okay. My babies are worth it. They 'make up for' the things I've had to forgo. But it's still a hell of a fucking choice to make, your entire family/circle of friends/education/career prospects, for a couple of pocket-sized versions of yourself. Especially when one of them *is* more or less a complete carbon copy of you... I mean, really. If everyone around me is just me and me and me again, I'm just more alone the more of us there are, aren't I?...

I can't even think of anything else to say about that.

Fucked by Love

The reason for the title of this post is because it's so true.

Look at me.

LOOK AT ME.

I live 4000 miles away from my family, I'm a university drop-out, I am up to my neck in debt, and I have few enough friends that I can count them on one hand minus my thumb. Compare that to a 17-year-old me, who lived with her family, had already completed a year's worth of uni credit while in highschool, her only debts were of the emotional sort, and she knew at least 10 people that counted as genuine, close, fairly reliable friends.

What the fuck happened? Oh, right. Like the title says. That girl got fucked by love (and not in the nice way) and turned into the bitter, angry wreck you see before you now.

I wouldn't mind it so much, but LOVE turned out to be less than I expected. Bit of a short stick, really. As the song says, 'Always weigh what I've got against what I left/So progress report, I'm missing you to death...'

My life now is in no way a match for, much less an improvement on, the life I had when I was 17. This is NOT a fair trade. I wish I'd realised then, what I was getting myself into.

There is nothing currently in my life, that makes up for all I've lost.

IT Geeks

So. I know a few.

No, really. I know one, at present. One proper fucking thinks-he-knows-it-all fucking computer NERD (this contravenes my definition of the word as well as his, but I'm being bitchy so I'm gonna go with it). He's really tremendously clever, so he comes across when he speaks, and I've no doubt that he knows his shit. His degree is in, oh, computer molestation or whatever, and knowing him, he understood every little segment of what he learned because, well, that's just the way he is. He won't leave anything alone until he understands it better than it understands itself. No doubt his questing, dextrous fingers can send your computer into spasms of ecstasy, the likes of which it's never known. He can probably get it to cook you breakfast and make your coffee just how you like it. He can likely... you get the gist. He certainly thinks he's shit-hot at IT, and I'm inclined to agree with his opinion, since I've seen him do other things well, and he only claims to be okay/not bad at them.

On the other hand. I have a friend who is completely self-taught, with regards to computers. He's good with numbers and logic, and he has a uni degree that would back those claims up, but he's much more understated. I have a webpage, which I don't show around much because it's not completed, and he knocked it together for me--free of charge, because that's the way he is. To his mind, if he can do something in 5 or 10 or 15 minutes, why would he charge anyone for it? And he is strongly opposed to IT guys who, in his opinion, waste billions of £££ every year, by implementing all sorts of unnecessary and fancy shit on websites which, if given his way, he could construct for a fraction of the cost. He claims that his work would be as user-friendly and efficient as anything a proper IT guy could create, and would likely look equally excellent as well. Not to mention it costing a quarter of what Mr. Techno-Big-Stuff would charge for his services. I mean, I understood the inherent flaws in his stuff, as well. Namely, real IT geeks wouldn't cum in their pants over his stuff; but for day-to-day use, it'd be spot-on, and he wouldn't be smug and superior about it.

I told my friend he was the most no-nonsense person I know, and I meant it. He is so without bullshit, it's an amazement to me. I genuinely believe that his IT skills are more than adequate for any task I/the average user would give him. And the lack of macho posturing is incredibly appealing.

And I just have to wonder. Like, how useful a skill is it, to be so good at IT that only die-hard computer nerds can appreciate you? I'm thinking it makes more sense to diversify. Learn something that's gonna help us when zombies take over the world. Show me you can fix an old car or do some simple plumbing or knock together a make-shift shelter in a rainstorm (using only the bounty of nature, your own two hands, and a Swiss army knife of some sort). Don't, like, try to impress me by doing stuff that's so technical and, forgive me, pointless that I can't even follow it. What's even the point, oh wait, I just said there IS none...

Some people have no idea what actually makes a worthwhile human being, as opposed to a nerdy waste of space.

Nice Boys

Do they actually exist?

I was reading some comments on YouTube, it was a debate about whether or not Mecca is the centre of the world, and--as you might expect--a few Muslims had left some comments. One of the men had posted the extremely legitimate argument that 'Christian' or 'Western' men were all obsessed with sex, incapable of being gentlemen, etc. As he phrased it, 'every time I go into work, it's "oh I banged this one, I had sex with that one" -- even the geeks are like this' (rough rough rough paraphrase).

He's not wrong, is he?

How many of you, yes you, you geeks and nerds and other types of 'nice' boys I hang out with, how many of you have NEVER had sex with a girl you weren't crazy about, just because, well, she said okay? I know, it's not that you meant to hurt her. You mostly/probably/kinda tried to make everything clear from the beginning. If she got too emotionally involved with you, well, it's not your fault, is it? What are you meant to do about it, repeatedly rub her face in the fact that you don't care about her all that much? That'd just be cruel, right? Right?

Right. Sure. Of course it would be.

Why don't you guys just keep it up. Keep fucking around, keep shagging every vulnerable girl you can get your greasy grabby paws on, keep lying and dissembling and avoiding the truth, keep short-changing every nice girl who feels a spark of anything genuine for you, and one day, when you're old and sick and pissing your fucking pants at the thought of dying alone, it'll serve you right.

Or. You'll meet me (or someone like me) and you'll wish you'd played nice from the start.

Men. Fucking silly stupid thoughtless men. You think you're the only ones who can fake being in love.