Regret Over The Gothic

I am an idiot sometimes. I really wanted to see the Gothic Symphony at QPAC, but the tickets were sold out. So I was relieved when I saw that rehearsal tickets were available. I would have been very happy to sit in a theatre for three hours or so watching the orchestra rehearse this once-in-a-lifetime piece. So I purchased tickets for December 22nd.

Well, December 22nd rolled around at what did I do? Did I go to the QPAC at 10am with all the other eager classical music enthusiasts or did I take a Skype meeting and then travel up to the Hyperdome to meet some friends I've known since Primary School?

I did the latter. I am glad that I did because I had a great time with them, laughing at old memories and swapping new stories, but I really wish I had at least gone to the symphony and then down to meet my friends. They didn't clash with the once-in-a-lifetime piece, the meeting did. I'm glad I took the meeting, but I should have remembered and pushed it back to TODAY not Wednesday.

Ah, regret. Regret and guilt. You are such familiar feelings. The ticket money gone to waste. The music left unheard. I still keep messing up. Will it ever stop?

All I do is let myself down. I make myself sad. Why do I keep punishing myself when it only leads to more punishment.

On Sunday it rained and we curled up, cold, inside for most of the day.

On Monday it was sunny and hot and I ventured to beaches with Dad. It was beautiful. I had fish and chips and couldn't keep my eyes open by the afternoon.

Tuesday was long-distance calls, delays, and pangs of loneliness in the night. I light my little nightlight every night. To forget to do so would be to let go of every thing way to soon.

Wednesday. Wednesday should have been music and friends.

Thursday should have been a meeting and then shopping.

The two things that matter in life and then the two things that ultimately don't.

Regret. Guilt. My old friends.

Visual Contact Leads To Vodka

I have often said, in this blog and in my own journals, that I suspect that the Internet is the cause for whenever I feel truly, deeply unhappy.

As was definitely the case the other day, a Wednesday. I was trying to get through my To Do's list, which meant contacting Dr. Johnson and checking my social networks, as well as trying to conquer the mountain of emails that awaits me in my 7 accounts (I know, I'm trying to close some of them).

A Skype call came through and it was Dr. Johnson and his friends, all sitting around, getting high, and I felt nervous to be on camera in front of him again and boring because I didn't have much to say, not in front of every one else.

At one point when they were asking me about my day, I said, "I have a lot of free time on my hands." It was a joke, but their sad reaction to it, made tears spring up in my eyes. I had to duck out of camera as I tried to compose myself, laughing self-conciously as I always do.

After 47 minutes of delayed video and instant silences and pointless chatter, we ended the call and I felt like a failure. Dr. Johnson was aware that his friends weren't quite involved, and since he was always the Leader of the Momentum for any kind of gathering, he hastily hung up (however, not at all rudely) to get the life back into his own gathering again. I could understand this, but I hate feeling boring.

So, after more unending emails and then Facebook chats with friends that I am nervous to see again, because so much time has past, and news of an old classmate committing suicide, though insensitively mostly just anxiety over missing friends in New York and - Just killed two flies in quick succession, which brings my Dead Fly count up to 7 or 8, one was killed with a check book and the other was killed by fly spray and fly spray can swatting. The two before that were killed by Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and The Book Thief - aaand just feeling lost in general. Seeing pictures of friends on Facebook didn't hurt, especially while listening to 'Home', and so the tears fell, silently and often, until I realized that I was going through all this heart break without any kind of antidote. Alcohol!

"At times like this, continuing with one’s life seems

impossible… and eating the entire contents of one’s

fridge seems inevitable. I have two choices: to give up

and accept permanent state of spinsterhood and

eventually be eaten by Alsatians… or not, and this

time I choose not. I will not be defeated by a bad

man and an American stick insect! Instead,

I choose Vodka. And Chaka Khan."

– Absolutely right, Bridget Jones... minus the Chaka Khan.

More Like “Sad White Boy Music.”

My positive day had spiraled into sadness. I went to my Mum

and said, “I was just sitting there all sad and realized,

I’m old enough now to let alcohol deal with this!”

And so, with a tender heart and wise words of,

“Now, don’t turn into an alcoholic,” she opened the cabinet

and reached for a glass…

The Vodka did not help though, I only had one part in a glass of lime soda and all it did was make the tears fall faster. I fell asleep while typing a long and lonely message to my friend.

It had been a week. I had lasted 7 days before my first tearful outburst. I think that is fairly healthy. So, let's not worry. I haven't had another drink since, because I'm not an unwise woman, however I am looking forward to my Mum's partners sons 18th birthday party. We'll be on a boat. And I will be slightly intoxicated. Magic can only ensue...