Two Girls One Coup?

This weekend, I was introduced to the 'Two Girls One Cup' video that has been doing the rounds on the internet. I say introduced, because I refused to actually watch it. I believe there are some things in life you should never see, so that in your darkest or most depraved moments, you don't have that memory to call up and thereby seriously gross yourself out. The concept was explained to me, but since this is not a fetish blog, nor am I a person who enjoys those sorts of things, I'll refrain from explaining it here - google it if you're interested.

It did make me think though. What in the bloody hell drives a person to get off on that kind of thing? How do you first discover you're into something a little more sick and twisted than the rest of mankind? For example, do you - as a guy - go to a public urinal as a child and find yourself turned on by the sight of the guy next to you taking a leak (not the concept of this video, but take that about 1000 miles further and you'll get there)? What then? Do you drink more water/beer than the average Joe Soap so you can go more frequently? Is there a code by which you can identify other Piss Perverts, perhaps a hand signal... and then maybe a secret society into which you can be initiated? The mind boggles.

I am no prude, nor do I judge others for their weird and wonderful sexual tastes, but there is definitely a line, and finding videos like 'Two Girls One Cup' even remotely thrilling is just beyond me. And the most of the rest of decent society, I would imagine.

Speaking of weird videos on the internet, if you have a moment go and check this out:

http://www.runningfromcamera.blogspot.com/

Don't worry, there are no fetishes or kinky sex acts involved. It's simply a guy who has created a blog where he posts photos of himself running away from a camera, as said camera takes a timed photo of him. Many photos. Over and over again. In various different places. WTF? Is anybody else confused, or is it just me?

Thanks heavens for the crazy world we live in.... I think.

PS Just so you know, I googled the video concept myself and although I haven't seen it, I can tell you it's chocolate.

When Shoes Shuffled His Feet

So, our dinner party with GBF was fantastic - way better than expected! I didn't have high hopes initially, as when Eyes enquired of Shoes last night whether he was coming to gym, Shoes replied that we were going to the gay guys for dinner and proceeded to sigh and huff like the big bad wolf. We left our flat and I had to stop halfway to go back for Shoes' lip that was dragging along behind us.

I was feeling surprisingly at ease in the beginning. Usually, I am so aware of Shoes' resentment at being dragged along, that I tend to spend most of my time watching him out the corner of my eye for signs of panic / excessive drinking / glaring shyness (which is often misconstrued as an air of disinterest), and frantically trying to bail him out of awkward situations. The first and most welcome icebreaker was Luna, GBF's 2 year old staffie puppy. I had already heard everything about Luna, from her eating and sleeping habits to what she got for her birthday (a £100 pound swarovski crystal collar and 2 x £50 fancy plastic food bowls), but I had yet to meet her. Shoes' dream dog is a staffie, and he frequently talks about his longing to own one when we eventually go back home. Luna was the best kind of therapy for this newp event - she provided conversation of mutual interest, she was boisterous and made us laugh, and when there was a lull in talking, GBF made her show off all the tricks she can do. Soon after we got there, D and Zen arrived. They are the other couple I have met through my volunteer work at the RSPCA, and they are absolute gems. Very quickly I realised that something was missing. That sense of constantly being on edge, worrying that Shoes was going to look pointedly at his watch one too many times... it wasn't there!

I've mentioned before how I am a little obssessed by this freebie website where I get free movie tickets and the like. D was the one to first tell me about this, and I knew she and Zen shared my love of cutting corners in entertainment costs. What I didn't know is that these people are professionals. They could write a book on how to get things for free. Movie tickets and mini samples? Pah, they've got two laptops, a tv and even a weekend away! I won't go into the how to right now, except to say that it's all legit and there's no theft involved, but suffice it to say, once the conversation turned to this topic and we realised just how much they take the piss, we were all in stitches for the rest of the evening.

Shoes appeared to be genuinely comfortable, and not once did I need to bail him out of a social faux pas. We'd agreed on an exit time before we came - 10pm. Finally, at 11:15pm, Shoes looked at his watch and gave me the eyes. I was nothing short of relieved; the wine and rich food had made me sleepy, and I could quite happily have left half an hour before!

As we all said goodnight and made promises to hook up again in the future, Shoes and I started in the direction of our flat and I asked him the all important question: "That wasn't so bad, was it?" His reply? "Not at all, it was cool. They are actually very cool people." And that, right there, is the highest compliment that Shoes can give. :-)

Crowded House

You know you've still got it when you're 27 and you get asked for ID when buying wine in Sainsbury's. Yes, that really happened to me this morning, and I am still absurdly pleased about it.

I'm pretty sure from the way she was staring puzzledly at it that the cashier was unfamiliar with the South African drivers license. I could feel her rising panic as she scrutinised my card, flipping it over and back again, looking for that elusive proof that I was of age. I helpfully pointed out the date with a perfectly manicured fingernail - do 17 year olds even have perfectly manicured fingernails? - and enunciated clearly "1980", but she still scowled at me suspisciously. I could practically hear her thoughts: Is this a trick? Is this a fake ID I'm supposed to recognise and instantly alert my superior to? It didn't help that while she was struggling with her sense of morality and power, I was standing there with an inane grin on my face. It's no wonder she was reluctant to give in. We had a brief face-off - she stared me down while my inane grin widened to a moronic one, and finally she conceded. The battle was over. I had won my prize. Well, won the opportunity to pay a fiver for a bottle of wine, anyway.

The wine is for an early Christmas dinner that Shoes and I are attending tonight. GBF, who's been off my radar for a couple of weeks (I must have really scared him at our last drunken meeting) invited us along with another couple who we've met through our RSPCA work. I'm excited; Shoes, not so much. The thing about my boyfriend is that he is the most delightful person once you get to know him; around his friends he is relaxed, witty, uninhibited and positively sparkling in Christmas-tree-light style. It's the getting to know him part that presents problems for other people.

He's not unfriendly by any means; he just has an enormous psychological block against meeting new people. He's the person at the party who is so terrified by the thought of being in a crowd of people he doesn't know that he's apt to drink too enthusiastically too quickly for Dutch courage, and then needs to go home early (come to think of it, this is quite possibly a deliberate ploy). He's the guy for whom small talk is worse than the Bokke losing to England. He's said before he'd rather have no new friends for the rest of his life than suffer the agony of "So, what do you do?" conversations one more time. I refuse to take this seriously though, because even if he does mean it, I'm not about to let him hide in his cave so I am continuously forced to present myself as the swinging singleton whenever there's a dinner party/wedding/work function for Lopz plus one. I have made it my mission in life to help him get over his crippling phobia of "newps" (new people) by dragging him to various events where he knows no-one. This is for his own good, and one day when his sparkling repartee is the coveted centrepiece at every party in the neighbourhood, he will make a heartfelt speech in front of a crowd of VIPs about how he could never have done it withouth me. I only have his best interests at heart. Besides which, I have run out of excuses for reason why he is not with me at newp events. "Oh, he's having a guys' night out tonight" or "The footie's on, and he is just SO sports mad, ha ha *cough cough*" are no longer cutting it, and I have to deal with the looks of pity shot my way throughout the rest of evening. "Shame, they're obviously going through a rough patch" is what kinder half are thinking, while the others clearly snipe under their breath, "Boyfriend? Then why haven't we seen him in seven years; she's actually sad enough to make him up."

I am putting a stop to this right now. I see tonight as another opportunity to show him that the rest of the world does not bite; that in fact, there are some very pleasant people out there just dying to be his mates. The fact that he sees it as a form of slow torture is irrelevant - in the long run, this will only serve the greater good of coupledom.

Baby's Got Back!

I'm back!

I've decided to return after taking a bit of a break from the blogosphere. I wasn't happy with how miserable my posts were becoming.... every time I sat down to write, all my disappointments, insecurities and self-doubt rushed to the surface with the force of a freight train, and they became the only things I could concentrate on and therefore write about. I firmly believe my blog is a place where I can say whatever I want, and it does help to work through some of those things by writing about them. Conversely though, writing about them also causes me to dwell on them more, and dwelling on all the things that are going wrong in your life for any longer than is necessary, does end up causing you to feel more depressed than you otherwise would.

So, no more of that now. Life is definitely good, and if there are a few bumps along the way that I have to scramble over, I shall endeavour to do so with a positive attitude and not quite so much introspection.... I do believe that sometimes intense thought can be one's enemy.

On that note, I have been for a couple interviews, but have decided for the interim not to discuss my work situation on my blog until I totally have a handle on things mentally. Which will probably be the point at which I finally get offered that elusive perfect job, but until then, I will keep any failures to myself, as it's simply easier on my pride and therefore takes the pressure off posting.

A couple of things did happen last week which helped me get over myself, and the most important of those did so by making me realise how trivial the things that I am going through are in comparison to some of the other struggles that people are facing. Sometimes you just need your life put in perspective.

A good friend of mine suffers from an eating disorder. She's struggled with it for many years, and it's taken various forms over time: compulsive eating, anorexia, bulimia. Her relationship with food has always been difficult, and its complexity is proportional to how smoothly or not her life is going at the time. She told me last week that she is now in a programme - she joined about a month and a half ago, and finally worked up the courage to let me know. This is the first time in all the years I have known her that she is getting help, and it's a decision she came to by herself, and she worked up the guts by herself to go to that first meeting.

Some background to flesh out my story here: When I was 17, I got involved with a crack addict. What followed were three nightmare years of descent into the dark world of drug addiction - him using, me trying to save him - which tested the foundations of everything I ever knew or thought about myself and other people. Because of this, I've spent a fair amount of time at support groups and clinics for addiction of all kinds. Eating disorders, alcoholism, drug addiction.... they all amount to the same thing, and occur for the same underlying reasons; they just take different forms of expression, if you like.

Because of my own experiences, I know just how difficult recovery is for anyone suffering from this disease. I also respect and admire those who've succeeded at it perhaps more than anybody else, as the price of getting to the point of recovery is extremely high for everyone involved, and I have personally paid those costs.

When she admitted to me last week that she had entered a programme, it's like someone took the microscope with which I had been studying my life away from my eye, and for the first time in weeks, I saw things the way they really are. Basically, I stopped being so caught up in my own issues that I didn't spare a thought for other people who matter to me, and the trials they're facing. And you know what, it was the biggest relief to have my perpsective back. It felt like someone had given me back part of my brain!

I am so incredibly proud of her. My heart just soars when I think of what she's overcome to get here, and I nearly choke on my happiness at the new prospects for her future. She was reluctant to tell me, as I said to her a few months ago I didn't think she could do this on her own, and she desperately didn't want me to be right. When it turns out I was, she was at first too embarrassed to say anything. What she didn't know was that by telling me, she helped me as much as I helped her.

It's funny how things work sometimes. It feels like everything is finally right with my universe. :-)

Feels Like Home

I watched the most incredible sunset from my office windows last night, and experienced an overwhelming longing for Cape Town. The sky was a palette of red and gold streaks, and the sun a burning orb reflecting a glittering amber off the buildings. I work in a building which has floor to ceiling windows all around, and it gives us a 360 degree view of London and its frequently occurring 4 seasons in a day. I've seen skies so blue they sear your corneas, felt sunshine so bright and warm that you can imagine yourself basking on the open veld in the Karoo, and witnessed thunderstorms and driving rain so powerful, you feel the whole building might be swept away as they power past. It's a great thing to have in the middle of a city, where your immediate view is usually of grey, high rise buildings. I had formed an impression of London before I came over here, and that impression certainly didn't include colour, beauty or variety. It's been delightful to discover that while it can never touch the beauty of Africa, London does hold it's own charm, and there are some things, like the occasionally dazzling sunsets, that bring us expats a little closer to home.

I've been thinking about Cape Town a lot lately. I'm going home in just over 2 months for 2 and a half weeks, and I can't even begin to describe how that makes me feel. The last time I went home was October 2006, and I haven't seen my family and friends since then. While I miss them on a daily basis, I do what you have to do when you're away from home for an extended period of time; I get on with life, and don't let homesickness get in my way of making the most of my experience here. Every now and then, though, it rears its head up and becomes an almost tangible thing. Strangely enough, now that the time to go home is so near, I am feeling increasingly homesick and desperate to see my family. I suppose the saying 'out of sight, out of mind' is very true in that sense. When you have to, you put certain things from your mind as a survival technique. I couldn't survive here with any decent quality of life if I allowed my longing for home to get the best of me. But now that it's appraoching, and we're talking about it and planning all the things we're going to do, and I think about being back home with my family everyday; now it's becoming harder and harder to be patient and concentrate on the good things I have going in London.

I guess the fact that my job hunt has been so dismal isn't helping either..... the last few months have been hard, and going home has never looked so good.

It's all I can do to go through the everyday motions and try not to wish the next two months away. I know after this trip, I'll be able to come back to London with enthusiasm and hope, instead of my current resentment. If only flights weren't so frikkin expensive, I'd go home twice a year to recharge and soak up the spirit of home.

I should mention here that despite the constant knock-backs, the machinery is still whirring in the job hunt and I actually have another interview next Thursday. I'm also waiting to hear about possible interviews for three other roles. I'm grateful for the opportunities that seem to keep coming my way, and hopeful that one of them is going to be my niche. I'm not going to discuss them here though, as I've realised the constant tension and my incessant self analysis in my current state is actually making it harder, and there's no point in putting extra pressure on myself. If it goes well, you'll know about it; if not, you won't hear anything - unless I'm in the mood for a rant, in which case you'll hear far more than you need to!

Not That Kind

So I just got a call from my agent, and I didn't get the job. Neither of us did actually.... they've asked for more cvs. So I guess my feeling was right after all.

I'm ok I suppose, definitely better than the other times I've been rejected. It's never fun, and I wish I knew why, but at least I don't feel like throwing myself off a bridge. My agent is chasing them for more specific feedback; hopefully this will give me a clue.

Even though I have other options, and I'm getting calls everyday, I'm starting to a feel (irrationally) that I have a "second interview curse", where people are impressed by my cv and acknowledge my capabilities in the first round, but when I get to the second round they take a long hard look at me and mentally throw me in the "no" pile. I feel unemployable. I know that I'm not, and I know that someone, somewhere, in the greater universe must want me to work for them. It just feels that the only way I'm going to get there is to temp first. Companies don't usually care that much about what kind of temps they get. Obviously they want capable ones, but if in the long run the person doesn't fit, it's easy to replace them.

I keep wondering how I would have fared in my temp roles if I'd had to interview for them. Would I have been chosen? Or would they see me the same way I've been seen in the 3 months' worth of interviews... good, potentially the right candidate, but at the last second, not quite good enough? Would I even be getting temp roles if I had to interview for them? See, when I think like that I get a little scared, as all the evidence is pointing to a no. Which begs the question - what is that I do in my second interview that puts them off? Or is it not what I do, but simply who I am.... an even more harrowing thought.

I suppose it's not a very good thing to sit and analyse like this. They have their reasons, and I hope they will forward them on to my agency so they can help me next time, but let's be honest, how truthful are they going to be? Maybe they just didn't like me. Would they say so, or would they cover it up with "she doesn't have enough experience in blah blah blah (hard to swallow in this particular situation, as I've done everything on their list).

My biggest problem is the slow draining of my confidence. I can still remember how I felt after my first interview for a perm position a few months ago. I was so shocked when they said no. Like, how could they possibly not want me? With each subsequent rejection, another part of me stops believing in myself, and becomes more resigned to the fact of it. I know this is no-one's fault but mine.... I have to be strong and competitive enough to fight for what I want and believe in my potential no matter how many knock-backs I get. It's just difficult.

Ok. I'm not going to let this one get to me, I'm going to take it on the chin and not be upset. But I am going to say that I hate job-hunting in London, and going home is looking more attractive than ever right now. I won't do it; I'm not going to quit, but I'm allowed to hate it. And I do - very much. On the bright side, it's the first time I haven't cried. :-) There's a spark left in me yet.... a little dull at the moment maybe, but definitely there.

Spending My Time

I've been pondering for a while now this whole blogging communuity business. Don't worry, this is hardly going to be a philosophical dissection of the minds of bloggers as I see them.... I'm not usually given to posts like that.

I just wander where everyone finds the time!!!! I love logging onto my pc in the morning at work, surfing the blogs I regularly read and seeing what everyone has been doing / thinking / feeling. However, when I make a concerted effort to read all my favourite blogs, comment on each one and then sign up to receive follow-up comments so I can continue the conversation, I find that half my work day disappears alarmingly quickly and I am scrambling to get things done later in the afternoon.

Let me state here that I am a multi-tasking expert: I am a team PA and I used to be a production co-ordinator, and the only way to truly impress in these jobs is to co-ordinate diaries / shoot schedules with one hand, whilst holding a phone to each ear with the other and typing with your foot - oh, and making a round of coffee for clients with sheer willpower.

But when it comes to my cyber-friends in the blog world, I am easily distracted from the task at hand by the post that So-and-so has just written about his/her crazy housemate / day at work / sexual experience and the barrage of criticisms, opinions and affirmations that flow from far and wide as everyone else jumps on the bandwagon. I love it, I really do.... I have my own special group of anonymous "friends" that none of my real friends know. They do, however, take up a lot of my time, which I suppose is par for the course if we're talking friends on any level here, even anonymous ones.

Does anyone else have the same problem? Blogging is as fabulous as it is time consuming, n'est-ce pas?