Sorry is not the hardest word

“Oh, It seems to me,
That sorry seems to be the hardest word”
Sorry seems to be the hardest word by Elton John

If I genuinely feel remorse, sorry is the easiest of all words. Granted, some people throw it about (which surely, makes it one of the easier ones) but I have no trouble.

However, “hello” …maybe it’s my shy side (stop laughing you, I can hear you from here!) but I genuinely find it hard to say hello to someone new or newish. The idea makes my stomach do somersaults and my heart quickens. And not in the exciting way, in the oh-dear-god-why-do-I-have-to-do-this kinda way.

When I’m meeting new people, be it friends of friends, a first date, or generally out and about, I become excruciatingly awkward when saying hello. All of a sudden I become a buffoon that doesn’t have control of her tongue, who sweats profusely and cannot look into their eyes. There is no logical reason for this, I’m sure others are nervous about making a good impression too.

With newish people on the other hand, I believe that this is a boundaries thing. There are people that I can easily pick up the phone and drop a message to about the most mundane things. But with newish people…the boundaries haven’t been sent, or I’m not aware of them. I don’t expect a meeting with a new acquaintance where we discuss times, subjects and length of phone calls or text messages, but part of me thinks that this would make life so much easier. Knowing from the off how texty I could be, or odd with my subject matter would help immensely. I include old new friends in this as well. Through the power of twitter and Facebook, I have reconnected with old school friends who I was fairly close to. A lifetime has happened since then and I fear that my style of communication now is not what they remember.

I think it is the fear of what a “hello” can lead to. Granted it can lead to great opportunities or meeting amazing, friendly, funny people. But my overactive fear demon presumes the worst, despite me having evidence that it’s not all that bad.

So, I’m sorry, Mr John, you got it wrong. “Sorry” is not the hardest word. It is definitely “hello”.

Decisions, decisions

I have a big(ish) decision to make that could shape “the rest of my life”. I know that sounds overly dramatic, but it’s true.

At the moment, my job covers two main parts of the department and soon, it may be splitting. I won’t tell you the in’s and out’s of my job, but I’ll put it in a way I explained it to a good (read: great) friend of mine: I have to pick to be either “Carrie” or “Miranda”.

So, do I go with one or the other?

Both aspects of the job can interest and stress me out in equal measure, but I may have to choose between the two…which could, in turn, decide how my “career” shapes in the future.

I have written before how I’m not really one for a career so for me to make this decision now is quite daunting. I never thought I’d be in a position to make a decision at 23. It sounds silly aloud as I know my parents were making job/marriage/family decisions at my age, but it all seems a bit soon.

I only graduated 2 years ago and I’ve been in this job not even a year yet. The job isn’t something people grow up and think “I’m going to work xxxxxx” but it is a job that I can really progress and flourish in. Also, I was just grateful to get a job! I have friends that are enthusiastic to learn, qualified, great people but are jobless or temping to just get by. I know that I’m extremely lucky to be working and earning.

And yet, I’m scared.

I’m scared I’ll make the wrong decision. I am scared I’ll pass something amazing up.

Why am I so bloody scared all the time?!

Happiness…

…happiness, the greatest gift that I possess
I thank the Lord I’ve been blessed
With more than my share of happiness
- Happiness by Ken Dodd

I am the happiest I’ve been in a while.

I can’t explain why, and perhaps I don’t’ have to. Things just seem to be falling into place.

I know most of the time that I write here or speak to friends, I am wallowing in self pity; missing what I don’t have and looking for something to fill the gap…but I feel pretentious and fake singing my praises and about what’s going well. It doesn’t sit right with me.

Someone told me over the weekend that I seemed obsessed (with this gap) and trying to fill it. I told them that they were wrong, and that although I have my down, self pitying days (like we all do) my life isn’t entirely about that. The things I do worry about are things that we can collectively mourn about. At some point, most of my friends have felt alone, fat (or bigger than they’d like) hopeless, uninspired, hating their job…the list goes on. We can connect over those times, even if they are years apart from one another. I cannot connect with some about meeting up with a “friend” or paying the bills or worrying about a colleague because it’s not a shared consciousness, and so I resist doing so.

But some don’t get it, and assume I’m obsessed with the former. It’s taught me to keep quiet about certain things.

It’s how I feel about writing. Writing about happiness is as mundane as talking about your holidays. Yes you have it, I don’t. I don’t want to hear about it because I can’t necessarily relate. I don’t want to write about happiness because I don’t think that they’d be a connection.

Maybe I’m a masochist, and wallowing is sorrow is my “thing”.

Makes for great reading though

“We need to talk”

…must be the pissiest phrase ever. It is cliché and can only result in trouble.

Well, at least in my case.

This phrase was more of a shock to me as it seemed to come out of nowhere. No heads up, no tell tale signs, no major argument, nada.

Just, bam!

My stomach dropped out and the rug was pulled from under my feet. More clichés, but hey, he started it.

They say (they speak an awful lot), that in relationships, there is the Lover and the Loved. I was definitely the Lover and maybe on reflection, I was the one more “into” things. Because of that, I assume people thought I’d be more upset than I am. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sad. Of course I am, a year is a long time, but I’m not crying-until-snot-pours-out-from-my-nose upset. I haven’t cried at all if I think about it. Also, the assumption that I’ll need “time” is ringing true from all avenues. I agree that I do, but I have bounced back a lot quicker than anyone probably thought.

I suppose, one positive from all of this is that at least now I have writing material

Courage…

I look at my previous post; so full of hope and promises…yeah, sorry about that.

As you can see, I’m still scared.

I have put pen to paper more regularly than I used to, however, nothing new has been shared. Some old stuff is out there, which I may rework, but that’s it.

I’m trying to build up the courage. It seems pathetic that I need courage, but putting something that is arguably so personal is the scariest thing I can imagine to do.

It doesn’t help that I’m naturally shy and self deprecating. This can be a lethal combination. It takes ages for me to open up and say to someone “hey, look at this,” for me to then follow up quickly with, “ah, you’ll probably think it is crap.”

So…hey, look at this. But you’ll probably think it’s crap.

A new direction…

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.
Henry David Thoreau

Hi guys!
I’ve had an epiphany.
Some of you know, some of you don’t, some of you won’t care…but I write. I haven’t written in a while, but I do like to word vomit on paper.

I’ve had this debate recently with friends, hiding behind the fact that I’m “too happy” to write. Now, I don’t mean to say that in a pompous way, but I find that writing and ready about someone who’s happy not to be very interesting. People can share pain. They can relate to each other in sadness, mourning, longing, lusting…these are emotion that we all, at some point or another, will feel and therefore can relate.

It’s a pretty morbid way of looking at things, I agree.

But last week I went to a spoken word evening. I had a great time, despite not really knowing what to expect. The poets were funny, and honest, and happy. Well, not all of the content was happy, but it certainly wasn’t all doom and gloom. The night really inspired me to get writing again. I have been toying with the idea; thinking up ideas, always carrying a notebook with me, that sort of thing. But I haven’t committed to anything.

I think it boils down to the fact that I’m scared.
Scared that nobody will read my poems.
Scared that someone will read poems.
Scared that nobody will like them.
Scared that I’ll run out of ideas.

But I can’t go on being scared. It’s not healthy, and it’ll only hinder what could be a great adventure.

So, watch this space…and this link: http://www.youtube.com/KayeEvan
and let’s go on an adventure…

Happy New Year!

Why, hello there 2011. Didn’t you sneak up on us?

I spent the first 48 hours of this year in bed. Start as you mean to go on, eh? One of the things I would like to continue this year is this blog. I love writing. I may not do it often, but I really like it. Writing is like my therapy I suppose. I rant, I rave, I look back and often laugh. I doubt I’ll tailor this to a theme, I like the rambleness of it, but I will try my hardest to post more often…

Other things this year I promise to try:

To be more glamorous – it doesn’t hurt to try

To not buy as many unwearable clothes – I have lots of clothes that I know I will not wear. Ever. So no more of that.

To accept that I don’t look like everybody else – I’m short, curvy, I wear glasses (contacts occasionally) my hair isn’t relaxed, I have a bit of a tummy…there’s lots of “beauties” I don’t fit. Sometimes I rise above it, but not nearly enough.

To “get into” photography – I’ve always wanted explore photography properly. Get some decent kit and take pictures other than me and my friends in a club or bar.

So, those are my “resolutions”, for lack of a better word. I’ll have a sneaky look back in December and see how well I’ve kept them.