Plinggggg.

I am very very twangy and wound up today.

Things started badly, waking up from a long and peculiar dream involving:

1) Being forced to sit through a stage musical of LOtR (it really sucked and putting Gandalf in Elton John glasses was a dumb idea).

2) Finding that I had to perform a trapeze act about 100 feet in the air with a swimming pool instead of a safetey net. There was a sword in the swimming pool and I was supposed to swoop down and grab it up and do all swordy stuff on a trapeze. I tried to explain that I could not, in fact, do any of these things and that I was terrified but the showman wouldn't let me off because he'd already had posters printed.

3) Shopping on a long high-street where all the shops pretended to be shut, just to piss me off. I finally crept up on one and pounced before the shutters could come down. All I wanted was bread, cheese, and water; all they had for sale was cheap schnapps. But really, really, they were just hiding the water behind the schnapps! I bought several bottles of fizzy water while various staff members cursed me in Spainsh, paying with black-painted fingernail clippings and a pocket-watch.


Real life proved barely more comprehensible. There was meeting with the rest of the women on my course so the organizers could see how we were getting on. Fist people started bickering, then they started snapping, and then there was this full-fledged barney, the kind where people only stop yelling to fill up snotrags. And I'm sitting there totally fucking unable to work out what they were all yelling about, because fast and many new words and shouty people and ARRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHH. For a full fucking hour.

It seem that the Powers That Be are still playing the Make Mordant Deal With Scary Scary Things That Scare Her A Very Lot game. I am very greatful for the opportunity to grow and develop and toughen up or whatever I'm supposed to be doing but I would like a sabbatical now.

Home again, home again...

Finally got a landline in my flat. YERRRRRSSS. At last, I can have a shufti at all those NSFW linksthat have been taunting me since the move.

Important note: I'm getting rid of the bloody stupid comments system as soon as I can be arsed to fix my template, because I'm sick of not being able to reply to lovely lovely comments from nice people. Please use the Blogger comments in future.

Other than that... life's okay. I'm a bit miz because I won't be able to get back to the UK for Crimbo and I miss people. I'm still flat broke and nobody's replying to my English teaching ads stompy stompy sulk sulk stompity stomp.

On the plus side I seem to rock at laying floor tiles. Also I have a hard hat and you don't, nyahhhh.

Nothing much.

Still applying for teaching posts (as well as the other stuff). Still laying floor tiles. I'm getting quite good at floor tiles.

I want to update the green book soon but I just haven't been in the right headspace. Too... twitchy. When I get twitchy, I start second-guessing myself--was that me, was it them, does it matter?--and then I have to go and make a cup of tea. Obviously one should be doing more trancework but when one has been skiving on one's trancework, one is loth to re-engage. It's like a neglected crisper drawer. Will there be nice or at least edible veggies? Will there be a horrible mushy slurry of gone-off yuck? The seeker can only find peace when the crisper drawer is finally opened; the seeker knows that the longer the crisper drawer is left unopened, the greater the likelyhood of horrible mushy slurry. In this way the fear of horrible mushy slurry breeds more horrible mushy slurry.

I must open that crisper drawer this very night. Pray for me.

RAHHHHH!

Hey, you! Petty fleshy readership! You are all very tiny and laughably breakable. I mock you with much hearty chortling.

I'm in a really good mood today. You know, not just a lalala, everything's quite nice actually good mood but one of those extra-spiffy, take on puny WORLD moods. What have I been worrying about? I'm too fabuloupolous to worry. It can only be a matter of time before petty mortal world realises that it was put here to amuse and support Me in the manner to which I would like to become accustomed. I laugh at its tiny attempts to resist.

There is no escape from ME.

¿Que significa..?

Spent this morning trying to do this personal evaluation thingy in Catalan. Fuuuun, since I don't speak Catalan and had to keep asking my teacher what all the words meant. And then not knowing what the Castillian translation meant. And feeling like the world's biggest twonk.

I'm doing okay with the course so far. I can't communicate as well as I'd like but I can understand what's being said to me. Tomorrow is the last day of the theory/evaluation/team-building part of the course. On Monday I will actually get to paint stuff. Strangely joyed up about the idea.

I've been punting out emails to language schools in the hopes that someone will overlook my CELTAlessness and take me under their wings. I liked teaching and I think that I could be good at it if I had another go, but my confidence took a big knock over that course. I'm running on a success deficit. I need to do something right soon.

In which the author once again seeks refuge from the horrors of the world.

Relentless self-absorbtion is the fluffy blue blankey which I pull over my head on dark dark days. Joooooiiiin meeeee. It's bliiiiiiiisssss.

Hokayyyy... Got a friend coming to stay for a whole week. Yay friendy goodness! Also, I blew off the Spanish course in favour of a free (Mmmmm, freeee) painting-and-decorating course. Turns out the Catalan govt runs free vocational courses for unemployed and marginally employed mujers such as my good self.

I'm having another stab at the teaching profession after running in to one of my fellow students from the TEFL course, who says she's never even been asked about quals., and I'm trying to build some social links with the other spooky/magicky people in the area. Which is nice.

No, seriously, fuck.

I just wish I was surprised, that's all. Sure, there was a tiny corner of my being which clung to the folorn hope that the other douchebag would get in, the douchbag who is at least not commited to cramming every fetid prejudice he harbours into the Constitution and tearing up Roe vs. Wade, but I never really took it seriously.

Don't get me wrong here, though. Unsurprised does not mean unfurious.

What the hell is wrong with you people? Oh, sure, nation after nation can be put to fire and the sword, your jobs can be flushed down the toilet of greed and capitalist profligacy, your sons and daughters can be drafted off to fight and suffer and die in hideous, evil wars--but so long as they don't go getting abortions or doing any of that gay stuff, hey, you're cool!

Jesus Christ, people, you may be strangers to tolerance, mercy or charity but are you also utterly devoid of any sense of self-preservation? This creature you've elected is going to fuck up your country beyond your worst nightmares. America is so fucked right now and it doesn't even know it. It's like a paralysed drug addict, mind swimming with happy happy dreams while Bush and his grinning crew line up to pull a train on its hindquarters.

Fucking moronic Bush-voting dickheads. You'd vote for a nuke in a hat if fucking Fox News told you to. You deserve everything you get.

FUCK.

I've got to stop writing crap.

For the last couple of months, pretty much everything I have written has been crap. It's either been derivative or sloppy or confusing or just plain crap. This bothers me. I want people to give me money for writing and people are weird about giving you money for crap writing. It's this whole big prejudice against the writerarily challenged. 'S not fair.

The rain in Spain...

...falls mainly on my barrio. I guess Winter's really here.

I really need to get my dwelling sorted. Stuff leaks, the window's still missing, the light that didn't work still doesn't and it's all bothering me and making me hide inside my own head where I can ignore things that leak/drip/fail completely to function ect. Which is really really mature and constructive and totally does not result in the slow deterioration of my surroundings into a big pile of socks and last weeks' Primeramàs.

On a more positive note, I went to the healer's group meeting yesterday. Man, I feel so much better. It was wonderful to participate in something positive with really nice people for a change. We got up to some spookyness and hocum, my first group working for aaaaages.


Made me realise how little I've been socialsing lately; most of my conversations for the last month (that aren't with Lurid) have been with strangers telling me that no, I can't have a j-b. No wonder I've been feeling so trapped and obsessed and sterile. I've done nothing but stew in my own juice for weeks on end. Can't quite see a way out of this mess yet but I feel like I'm closer, you know? Less paralysed.

I'll get it all sorted. Bit by bit, I'll get it aaaaalll sorted out.