The Butterfly. Effects.

It’s fair to say I’m quite bored of being at home. It has been good to spend some time with my parents, to see my sister and her family, and nice to see some old friends around the village. Unfortunately, my lack of things to do has now transported me to the point where I'm almost looking forward to getting back into the work cycle. I’ve spent my free time at home watching DVD box sets; The Wire – Season 1 - which was very realistic, so took some time to get into, but well worth it, and Peep Show, which I’m working my way through all 5 series of. Its very very funny – the two main characters narrate their real thoughts over the top of the actual dialoges, and its hard not to laugh at how true some of the situations are. Its reached the point where I’m now seeing a subtitle of what my actual thoughts are on each real life situation I find myself in. I’ve also played quite a bit with my infra-red controlled helicopter, which is surprisingly stable to fly, eat vast amounts of cheese and had 2 bouts of man flu.

The AnnE thing hasn’t moved on - ive not heard from her since an exceptionally bland Christmas Day text - and I’m still hopelessly unsure of what my best course of action is for when I return to the Plym on Sunday. I spent the first week or so hoping every text I got would be from her saying something about it all being a mistake and she wanted me back, but they always turned out to be someone else, or a service message from Orange - both of which, in their own way, said that I need to move on. I genuinely don’t know what to expect when I get back, which is at least slightly exciting, even if the majority of what it remains being is quite shit.

The time has quickly emerged during which I have to get back into real life. Early Jan is the time for planning what is going happen this year and I have been making some mental lists; I’m going to join the Uni gym, just so I can get my cycling up to some sort of decent standard before the spring-time triathlon training starts in anger. I’ve got a slight ankle injury, but after a good 3 weeks of rest I’m hoping I can start running regularly again next week. If I can then there are quite a few races in Jan and Feb that I might as well enter to keep myself motivated. Ill probably do the Bath Half again in March too. I think I’m going to join the Plymouth Tri Club, as then I can enter the south west race series, which will give me even more motivation.

I’m not sure what the girl situation is going to be like- the thought of AnnE bringing some cock back to flat still makes me think angry thoughts, but at some point one of us (and by one of us I mean her) is going to do that. The possi/proba -bility that there is/was someone else still makes me feel sick. I think that the statistically likely risk of getting dumped three times in a row is a bit too unpalatable and best combated by not getting together with anyone else. I’ve had a lot more sleepless nights this year than ever during my single years. Part of me is already thinking ahead to my end of contract and that perhaps it is best to be entirely unserious with girls this year, then I can save up some money and if there are no decent jobs about next March (when my current funding runs out) I should head off round the world for a bit. I can’t really see the downside of that at the moment. Despite that though, I seriously do need to put some hours in at work this year and at least get the first few papers out, if not a grant proposal which would be a lot more positive and make the potential job situation more probable. I have also possibly got some consultation work, which will be great if it comes off, and might involve some trips to Holland. Finally, there are at least 3 holidays being talked around the group at the moment, and already 2 good weekends for before Easter, so fingers crossed it will turn into a great year from a shit beginning.

The most strange and beautiful thing since being at home was a Peacock butterfly that was on the outside bin on New Years eve when I took out some rubbish. I still don’t really understand what has happened to make it hatch out in the current below zero temperatures, but it is a wonderful thing. I brought it inside and warmed it up on a lampshade and fed it some sugary water. It is still alive now, but is not flying around as much. I think my Monday morning job at work is to investigate what could have possibly happened…



Happy New year plans.

Being friends?

Sorry, its boring I know, but another diary post has to be gotten off ones chest...

The big BDay night went well up until the final hour, which saw another argument between me and AnnE. She and DPSyc had come up to the Stol and we were all gunna stay on the floor around a friends house. D still didn’t know that we had been seeing each other – A had said previously that she didn’t want to tell him to avoid any house awkwardness. This was bothering me a bit as it meant we were still not open in the house- she would, for example, scurry out of my hug if she heard D coming down the stairs. Most of my better friends knew about us and I thought this weekend would be a good time for him to find out. Anyway, AnnE had arrived first. I made an effort to look after her, kept an eye out to make sure someone was with her and went over and talked to her if she was on her own. The drink flowed and eventually everyone seemed to be having a good time. I had gone up to the DJ to ask him to play The Killers' Mr Brightside at midnight as my Birthday came in, but at the last second decided to leave it to fate. 10 minutes later everyone is laughing at me as I do a fucked off dance to Maria Carey's version of All I Want For Christmas Is You. A and I suddenly find ourselves alone – D was off somewhere so I grab her and we have a really good kiss. I hug her and everything feels great.

Much like the young guy in the police drama, who is doing his last drugs bust before heading back to Law School to support his young family, it is all too predictable which way it is going to go.

We dance some more and D comes back. I back off and get my drink. The songs pass and I get bored. I eventually ask her if it’s a good time to tell D about us, but she cant hear me. I grab her hand and take her to a corner, but she still cant hear. I take her outside, where she can hear, but doesn’t listen to me and thinks im being jealous like last week* and having a go at her for dancing with D. I explain I only want to be alone with her so we can kiss, but that I also think its time we told D so we wouldn’t have to be secret. Probably 5 or 10 minutes pass, but we are not progressing. The floor seems to shake a little as she says that its over between us.

I protest but shes sure. I ask for a reason. She says that people always split up. She doesn’t want to fight with me and that if we keep going out we will split up and it will be awful. I was so nice to her last week when she was ill that she realised she doesnt want to lose me. She only wants to be my friend as friends can last forever. I tell her that’s stupid and that people do stay together - that people definitely don’t stay together if they break up before they’ve had a chance of going out properly. Shes asks me to name 5 couples who have stayed together and I give her them without missing a beat, but it does no good.

People start leaving the club, walking past us as I try to talk her round. Toast walks past with some friends and gives me a knowing look as we low five goodbyes. D comes out with Meg and C-Unit. I say to them all that me and A have been going out, but that she has just dumped me. I count at lest 4 tumbleweeds blow past. I turn to D and say 'sorry I didn’t tell you sooner'. They suggest we go back to the flat. I go to get my coat and Anne comes too. She says she doesn’t want to lose me as a friend. This hits a nerve and I tell her to fuck off. We get back to the guys and I check my watch, its 2.35 – ten minutes until the last night bus back to my folks’ house. I say im going to get it, and that D and A should go back to Meg’s as planned. I walk off but A follows me. She doesn’t want to leave it like this. As the kebab queues diminish, and the last few drunks leave the street, it goes on and on. She doesn’t give a better reason than not wanting to lose our friendship when we break up further down the line, even when i suggest a few to her. We soon stop communicating. The layers of arguments become so thick that we are barely touching the cake.

Thinking about it now, she is probably right – we have argued or talked about arguing more than we’ve had fun over the last fortnight, and that isn’t really the foundation for a long term relationship. I can see that logically, but in my heart I still want to make things work out. If she really wants to be friends so much she shouldn’t have kept trying to pull me this year when she was drunk and I was seeing the Twin and LEA. Even when we talked soberly about getting together there was no mention of the friends-being-lost problem. Meg asked me the next day if she thought it might be the case that she was only interested when it was secret and exciting. I hadn’t ever thought that, and don’t really now, but the last paragraph, at least, paints that picture.

What is blindingly obvious is that there are other reasons that she is not saying. I would really like to know them, just so I can take them onboard – they might help me out in the future.

The next morning I wake and feel wholly rubbish. I look around my room and recognise my bedroom as the one at my parents house. The memories of the above flood in and I hope it’s a bad dream. I remember walking A back to the flat and then walking about a park in Clifton wondering where it had all gone wrong. Eventually I got a taxi home and had a good chat with the driver about what had gone on. The texts soon start rolling in from around the country from friends wishing me a happy 30th and hoping that I had a good night out. Among them is A saying shes ‘sorry very very sorry’. I pin some hope to this and over the next day and a half we exchange a few texts- me asking if we had really split, her replying that she was sorry. I eventually phone her to ask her if there is any future for us. I need to know. She says that there isn’t after what I said. I don’t remember what I said but she doesn’t want to go back over it.

So here we are again. Dumped twice in 3 months. I had made a resolution last year to make a greater effort with girls, to take more chances, and it has worked well. But its not a nice feeling to get dumped, especially for a shit reason. Everyone said it was a bad idea to go out with a friend and a housemate, and my current hesitation to head back to the flat serves as fairly conclusive proof that everyone was right again. Despite this, under the same circumstances, I think I’d have to do it again – You’ve got to try these things out for yourself.

There are, however, some positives. I only slept 3 hours on Sat night worrying about this. I managed 5 hours last night, and with the definitive closure gained in conversation today my head feels a lot less like a Spectrum trying to load up Vista, so I might well do the 8. I got over LEA – I certainly dont hate her anymore – and ill get over AnnE. I haven’t even cried this time. Maybe we can even be friends. Don’t get me wrong- I will miss the hugs, and id like a better reason off her when I see her, and I really hope she tries to pull me again at some point so I can tell her to fuck off - but it is obviously for the best if she doesn’t want it, so I will get my shit together and move on. I can plan holidays now, ive got some motivation to train hard and I will not have to worry about her or her problems so much. The biggest positive was realising my friends will be there for me. Meg and C unit took me out the next day even though I barely said a word and C was completely open and philosophical on his previous lost loves as I gave him a lift home. JB and Barbie were on the phone to me straight away and Pman made me laugh out loud for 5 minutes with this text (following on from a ‘cheers for coming, I got dumped at end’ - type effort from me);

We both had a brilliant time! Sorry about AnnE but my brief assessment was nice tits, bad attitude so I think you’re better off without. I hope you don’t somehow get back together and end up married now.

The blogTV show, ‘Living with my ex in the same flat’ will begin in the New Year.

Merry Xmas y’all.

*her dancing and flirting with some cocks last week were The Truth - star of the last post.

Errors and issues (featuring The Truth).

For fuck’s sake.

I had a massive row with AnnE at the weekend. It was no fun whatsoever. It was preceded, predictably, by far too much drinking. At the time the issues seemed so huge that they dwarfed any chance we had of staying together. The truth was so big and scary that when it crawled out of its lair I was petrified and couldn’t look it in the eye. Every action I attempted to make it go away just seemed to feed it's strength. I talked about it with The Captain as it loomed large over both of us at 3am in a takeaway, but we failed to make it go away.

The Truth followed me home and featured heavily in the row, which i am not very experienced in, and have no desire to gain any more.

Then, in the cold light of a two day hangover the truth was pathetic. It had shrunk to the size of a spider I could crush without even realising. It still made me jump a little when I saw it (it was spider after all, what was it doing in here?) and it had a flicker of power to worry me about our future. But in comparison to the beast i had seen last night it was minuscule. Nights out can get silly – out of control before you realise what has happened.

We talked a bit about the way we remembered things going on but it was hard work for us both. I remain slightly concerned that she is not as serious as me about going out – she infers that she doesn’t want things to go wrong between us because of the house, where as in comparison to her I couldn’t really give a fuck about the house. In my darkest moments I worry she feels trapped ‘seeing’ me as dumping me would make the house awkward, but I hope she is stronger than letting such things drag out. In our warmest moments, which are (well, were) the vast majority, it still feels great and more than worthwhile. I am (well, was) falling for her.

I guess, like everyone else, we could go either way. Time has it in her hands.

The criminal’s address.

Our first house party went quite well. The flat by the sea has been threatening to open its doors ever since we have moved in, but the summer came and went with nothing but clashing dates, and the idea’s momentum was burnt out. DPsyc turned it around when one of his course mates, Zil, had a birthday coming up and was reluctant to do anything for it. He stealthily Facebooked, emailed and called up her old and new housemates, some friends and coursemates, and we all stood together in the darkened lounge while Zil came up the stairs. Her illusion of a few quiet drinks round ours then out into town were shattered with the sharp sounds or party poppers and shrill voices of SURPRISE!

Then it was all over. I had felt more tense than I had hoped, and spent a fair bit of time in sight of some undergrads that I feared might be in danger of breaking, or puking on, some stuff if left unchecked. We played a good party game where you have to pick up a piece of card off the floor using only your mouth, and only your feet can touch the floor, but there were some bendy girls who were better at it than me. I chatted to a guy from the Wakeboarding club, who by chance was also one of Zil’s new housemates. The land of the Plym is a very small place. Then I left on my drive to A’s and Veggies for the Grim8 – a race I had entered at the last minute – and stayed at theirs for the rest of the weekend.

On my return late into Sunday, DPsyc told me that his car had been ‘done over’ sometime on the Friday night. He had called the police and they had informed him that he was one of 12 who had reported something missing or broken from their cars over the Friday/Saturday night. We were later to learn (through a variety of unreliable sources) that a ‘Druggie’ who was new to the area had been out stealing things that could be shifted quickly in exchange for his next hit. What a fucker. DPsyc’s side indicator bulbs were gone, his wing mirror glass removed, his lock destroyed with a screwdriver, but this unsuccessful entry attempt had led onto his back window glass being smashed – even though there was nothing in the car to steal.

Amazingly, the police called back to say that some of the items had been recovered. The guy had apparently been caught, and some of the items, including DPsyc’s side indicators were found. These were returned in a sealed evidence bag, which was obviously some sort of mistake, as it had the address of where they were recovered from, in fact they had the exact location, ‘On coffee table, front room’ of where they were recovered from. The address was about 20 houses down from ours. I once did 6 months work at the Crown Prosecution Service and remember they were incredibly paranoid about sending out witness statements to the defence, as each one had to meticulously checked for any hint of a location as to wear the Witness might be from. Each one had large bits blacked out, and were checked several times by different people before they were posted. The police here obviously didn’t care too much about giving out this guys address to the one of his victims. The guy himself is probably too smacked of his head to care about anything.

I was quite angry about the cars that got broken – thousands of pounds worth of damage – all for one individual who has gone wrong. I don’t know if I should feel sorry for him, or if it’s OK to feel like I do, that he should be put in jail for a long time. I understand that that isn’t really the solution, but I struggle to see what is. We half-to-quarter-joked about what we should send him in the post, or what we should put on his doorstep at 4 in the morning.

Im still not sure.

Pants

I check my watch and its time to leave. I have to get showered, changed, parked and walk up to the quiz, all in 30 mins. Hopefully ill have a spare 5 minutes to get some dinner in on the way.

I am rushing as I enter the changing rooms and take off my faithful Senegalese football shirt. I hunt in my bag for some shower gel. I take off my shoes, socks and shorts and am just about to take of my pants and head for the showers when I recognise Tom Daley. Plymouth's golden boy (well, golden in the 8th, rather than 1st place in the Olympics sense) is also in the changing rooms. This fact confuses me slightly and I’m not sure what to do, but end up staring at him, my mind matching his real life face with TV memories from Beijing. He catches me looking at him so I feel compelled to combat the rapidly increasing awkwardness and say,

‘Oh Hiya!’

pointing at him with one hand and giving a thumbs up with the other. He is polite enough to reply and nod while I continue the crap conversation;

'So you're back into training now then...'

'Hope everything is going well..'

'Did you really fall out with the other synchro guy?..'

But something is wrong. Suddenly I'm very aware of my lack of clothing. His voice is saying the occasional word but his body language is saying ‘stop talking to me this is very uncomfortable.’ I imagined afterwards that the dialogue in his head was saying , ‘A sweaty man has rushed into the room, taken most of his clothes off and then has suddenly started talking to me. Get yourself out of this situation.’

So that was the day I spoke to Tom Daley in my pants.

Krypton Fish Amazon Factor

By some mysterious, and numerous, quirks of fate, not to mention a series of unlikely events I find myself lying in bed with AnnE. We embrace as a hangover stamps noisily around my body and I dare to dream of contentment in between short dozes and long thoughts over investing and getting dumped. Once bitten twice shy, and all that.

The past few weeks have been messy. I’ve drunk more than I have in years, partly because there are no races to prepare for but mainly because there has been a busy social calendar and I feel like I may as well get involved. This time last year I was off to Brazil with work for 6 weeks, and had arranged my 3 week holiday straight afterwards, so I missed the current seasonal change to cold dark evenings with leaves on the ground. This year I seem to be busier at work than ever, and yet still find myself wondering what my next challenge should be. Common sense seems to indicate I should get the current one finished first.

I entered the new series of ITV’s 'Krypton Factor' on a whim, and got an interview, but couldn’t make it through work commitments. They phoned up on a Wednesday and were like, ‘Ooo, could you come up to Cardiff on Friday morning’ and I was like, ‘well maybe if you'd given me some warning, but I've got work on Friday.’ So they tried to re-arrange but it wasn’t to be. In a similar vein I am also writing an application for a BBC wildlife series, but suspect that this one will be slightly more competitive. I hope that tales of my trip to Brazil might count for something and I can get an expedition out to combine filming some fish, maybe giant freshwater stingrays, with doing some more fieldwork for the current work project. You’ve got to have a dream, right?

AnnE is lovely, but, I’m dont feel able to rush into anything this time. I’ve gone from living in different cities to the previous two girls I’ve ‘seen’ to living in the same house as AnnE. Its not that awkward par se, but sometimes on a bland Tuesday evening you just want to veg out and not have to make an effort. I think ill miss the excitement of dating, as I see her a lot at the house so the time is not that special. That said, we are having a ‘date’ tonight to see the new Bond flick, so we’ll soon figure out how we feel. Speaking to a few mates I don’t think housemates getting together is as uncommon as I first thought – I can now think of 3 at least – all of which went/are still going long term.

Time will tell.

Very apt...

I've just had the craziest week,
Like a party bag of lies, booze and then deceit.
And I don't know why I want to voice this out loud,
It's therapeutic somehow.

So I'm moving to New York cos I've got problems with my sleep,
And we're not the same and I will wear that on my sleeve.
So I'm moving to New York cos I've got issues with my sleep,
Looks like Christmas came early, Christmas came early for me.

I put one foot forward and ended up thirty yards back,
Am I losing touch? Or am I just completely off the track?
And I don’t know why I want to voice this out loud,
It’s therapeutic somehow.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTEN359V8pI

(...apart from the moving to New York bit)