2002-04-27

I haven't written for ages and I am in quite a rut.

THe house I live in is still not sold and I am living in a bit of limbo. My flatmates have decided that the household is already over - I've not seen either of them here for four days or more and this house is too big. I dunno, I'm not really lonely as such, I think it just makes me feel sadder that even in my own household I am not part of a community. Also, we have a big house, and its too boomingly large house and it accentuates my isolation. The cats follow me around wondering where there is a heart, but I can't really offer them one at the moment, as I feel too empty to comfort them.

Of late I have become acutely aware of how people take me. Mostly, they don't like me, as I am too hard to talk too. I go too indepth into stuff, too probing into reasons and motivations. People's radars pick up an attack. I feel like I'm friendly and interested in what people are on about, but what I find is people just don't want anything to do with me until required.

Now when I mention this, I get the 'paranoid' call, like I think everyone hates me and is looking at me. The rest of the time I am reliable, well informed and level headed - count on me! But the minute I relfect on how people don't really like me, I ge tthe 'paranoid' call. So, I feel agian that I am not liked or appreciated - how can I suddenly be paranoid when the rest of the time I am a bit of a rock of reliability? For fucks sake...can't it be true that I have come to these conclusions from observations of reactions and behaviours? Could it not be that I am astute enough to tell if someone likes me or not?

And I just get really fucken sad that I spend alot of time doing stuff that others can enjoy, and helping folk but I can still have this general reputation as scary and pushy bitch.

Can ya tell I'm a bit down...? But not the hopeless crying I usually enjoy! I just want to curl up and sleep and I wonder how I will go through my life as I don;t think I will ever make friends. I know a fuck a lot of people, and in fact if you are reading this, you may indeed know me. But I doubt you are my friend - you may have interacted at an event with me, talked on common ground about a subject we love or hung out with me in some larger group. and that's cool, I love knowing folks from absolutely all over.

Plus I only really want to be friends with folk who I don't have to mollycoddle so that they feel comfortable with me. I can't think of anyone who I think feels comfortable with me and loves what I am through and through.

So anyhow, the house is empty as fuck as I wait around, engulfed by the sterility of this dead house, for something to happen. Buy it, kick us out and let me start a new for the twnetieth time in my adult life (which reminds me that I am still to do the house history of the Purr). This time there is no one carrying on with me to the next abode, which is something I don't think I have experienced before. I will need to live by myself this time I think - which is hella bad timing as I have no work at the moment, so I can't really afford to. In my mind today, I think I will go live out of town a bit, at the base of Sugarloaf Mountain, in West Wallsend, or the delightfully named Killingworth. I'm thinking I can afford my own house out there, maybe someone will want to live with me. I'd prefer that.

Hmmmm, well I just called the real estate agent, cuz I hadn't heard from them for awhile and there is this very keen buyer around. Contracts are about to be swapped from which time I have 1 month to find a place, which is all good. So within 6 weeks I will live...somewhere...else. Its an adventure.

Anyhow, just swept the floor. I could start a small European nation with the pet hair collected. I would call it Hairia. And it would be a wonderful place, as the hair comes from cats and dogs, so harmony would reign supreme. And people would think I was a nice, giving person! Ha!