Feelings and shit

 Excuse me, I’ve been busy wallowing in my own happily ever after. 

Actually, it’s not like that.  It should be like that.  I live in a magical wonderland of art deco apartment blocks and city skyline views, I have a great job with excellent working conditions and future career prospects in it for me, I’m enrolled in uni and just have to wait to start next year, and I’m in a relationship with a not-crazy not-emotionally-abusive person who is actually quite amazing and good.  But still, while my anxiety hasn’t been as bad as the end of last year, it’s still not been great, and there’s been small problems, and worries, and misunderstandings, and general ennui.  

I have no idea what I want or expect from life anymore.  It can’t always be a big party, I know.  

Shadi and I have come to the conclusion that our mothers’ generation is really immature.  Yes, the whole generation.  Well, mostly the women.  How’s that for some generalising?  Her mother and my mother and pretty much everyone’s mother we know is selfish and jealous and childish and they brought their children into existence on earth in order to serve their own weird dreams about being best friends with their children only to be upset that they raised normal teenagers-slash-20-somethings-slash-30-year-olds who don’t like to hang out with middle-aged women with marital problems and menopause and an interest in folk art.  If the Palex ever wants to be my best friend, I’ll know that I really failed.  

I quit my part-time job, the market research gig, in a blaze of drama and valium.  Did I already talk about that?  I can’t remember.  Well I think they just use market research as a weird backwards way of advertising, particularly for advertising shit you’re not allowed to advertise anymore – what point is there in British American tobacco getting people to complete a 40 minute phone survey about their smoking habits and impressions of various brands when tobacco advertising is banned, and cigarette packs are kept secretly hidden away in special cupboards?  Soon they’ll all have to come in the same plain packaging.  It’s a conspiracy, I tell you.  Don’t get me started on the campaign we did about people’s views on the pokie reform legislation… funded by Clubs Australia.  

Anyway, I quit, and used the spare time to make the most gloriously complicated over-engineered budgetting spreadsheet, that I even needed help from Laurence to complete because it had been driving me insane for a month.  Making shit on Excel is the only thing I can really call a hobby.

I’ve talked nonsense again, but it beats talking about feelings and shit.