2012 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 3,700 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 6 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.

On Hot and Cold

I am interested in vibes. How and what kind of vibes we put out into the world, and how those vibes attract reaction from others. In particular, I have noticed these vibes more since my latest relationship ended about four months ago. I’ve heard that when you come out of a long relationship, you experience a sort of release of energy, and you give off the ‘freshly single’ vibe, (Sorry, this sounds a bit horrid, but I couldn’t think of a better way to put it) attracting the attention of potential love interests like a dog on heat (So sorry.)

And I can well imagine this. What I was not prepared for, though, was the amount of back-and-forth attention that came my way. Somehow I seem to have been presented with more complication than when I was at the end of my relationship. Attention came, yes, but it came and went. Ebbed and flowed. More than one person has shown interest in me, to the point where it seemed like they might do something about it, and then just as quickly seemingly changed their mind. What is this about? Do I just smell bad up close? I’d love it to be that simple. But, of course, it probably isn’t.

I find it a bit tedious playing games with people myself. If I want something, I say so. Maybe that’s boring. Maybe my sense of evolved, civilised romancing is underdeveloped. Maybe I’m old before my time. But I just can’t be bothered. It actually puts me off people in a big way. People are complimenting me and then finding a way to retract the sentiment, which is just rude where I’m from. Unless the retraction is made in an obviously ingenuous, silly way that conveys even more heartfelt affection than the compliment itself. In which case, we probably get on pretty well…

If you’re going to make me feel special just to take it away again, you can keep your mouth shut in the first place, thanks. I’m quite happy receiving no attention at all, especially if this is the alternative. Don’t get me wrong, I’m open to positive attention and love. I have a lot of love for my friends and dear ones. But what’s happening at the moment is kind of equivalent to a three-year-old handing you something they’ve made, as a present, and then before you’ve figured out what it is, taking it away again.

It’s not even just a two-step story. The attention comes, goes, comes back again. The hot and cold runs for a while. I’m aware that everyone changes their mind about other people, and respect that right, but there are respectful ways to handle those changes, which aren’t being exercised.

Maybe I’ve  been off the market too long to understand. Maybe I just don’t get people. But I am starting to think it’s me. I must be giving off some pretty strange vibes.

One thing I’ve always noticed, freshly-single or not, is that I do not often attract honorable attention. I have banter, other people’s boyfriend’s flirt with me; (Not yours, don’t worry) generally people err on the side of inappropriate with me. Apparently my Dad always found himself in love traingles when he was younger. We seem to follow patterns. Perhaps mine is because I am quite straightforward and not easily offended, and enjoy a good sense of humour. I’m down to earth and take a lot in my stride, even if I pretend not to for the sake of conversation. (Does that kind of cancel out what I just said about being straightforward? Whoops. I guess truth is contradiction.) I am fairly free. An open book. I’m blogging about my love life for goodness’ sake. But that doesn’t work with everyone.

You can certainly have that kind of relationship with some. But at the moment, in my life, it feels like it’s everyone. That’s unfair. A majority. What am I doing wrong? What does it take to project a vibe of wifeyness as opposed to half-hearted mess-around? I don’t mean that as it sounds. I don’t want to be a wife right now. But that kind of honorable, respectful, I-like-who-you-are-and-want-to-impress-and-protect-you attention is missing from my life. It’s not always necessary, and I think maybe all this strangeness (aside from being a fascinating open lesson in human behaviour) is a good sign that I could actually benefit from some time away from any attention.

It’s not as if I find myself in one-night-stands either. I don’t tend to put myself in situations in which they are a likely outcome. But I find it bizarre to be stuck in the middle. No Man’s Land. This is not a woe-is-me post. Just a pondering.

What it all makes me want to do is retreat a little bit. Stop being so open. Remember that time when I only talked about relationships once they were established and going well. (Maybe I should stop blogging, even.) Stop consulting with friends, reading between the lines, and conversing via written word as opposed to in person. Regress to a simpler time.

So what is this post about? What is the point? Perhaps just a kindly ask that people be respectful in matters of the heart. Be gentle with each other, and be honest. I think that’s one thing that could make the world a better place.

Countdown to a new era

This is what it says on the tin. A countdown to: My housemates moving out, and new ones moving in. I am staying put in my cosy attic room of this beautiful Edwardian townhouse, while my friends move on. One is buying a house for the first time with her boyfriend with whom she is madly in love, to settle in a perfect little area near shops, parks and schools, to eat romantic meals off the unfinished floor in something rough and ready that they will make completely their own. She will spend even more time making jewellery and being herself. The other two are finally moving in together alone, in what sounds like a perfect little flat avec balcony, fairly (though not enough) nearby.
I am staying put, despite my contrary plans of earlier this year, and other friends are moving in here with me. I am excited, but tonight it hit me just how soon it is all happening, and I could not help but slip into sentimentality. I must grieve the loss of the three people I am currently closest to, before I never have this wonderful set-up again. At least, not with them. I know what is coming will be good, but it will be so different.

In two weeks, I won’t stop halfway up my stairs in deep conversation with the girls, eventually sitting down and taking my bag off, accepting that despite my OCD/autistic tendencies, this moment of connection and friendship is worth more than my sleep. Rocky will never run up my stairs again. She probably won’t even come past the bathroom again, which is the first door on the landing. Cat’s light won’t be on when I come in from work, and we won’t get those delightful random-chance catch ups before conjoined evenings of tea, homework and regaling tales of our pasts that are unknown to each other. I will not hear Calvin come in with his music playing in his headphones, pat-pat-clank (broken tile in the hall), make himself a drink and then head upstairs, ignoring Rocky’s desperate pleas for his attention so that we can pretend to be asleep when he enters the room we’re in. He will not be there to humour us.

Where in fuckety are my kitchen scissors? Maybe I won’t miss these bastards after all.

Rocky, Cat and Julia came to meet me in the bar at my work. We had drinks and laughed a lot. Julia set her bag on fire. Rocky and I came home and sat on the stairs together, cracking up at the outtakes on my voice recorder from when she tried to tape herself reading a piece of comedy she wrote. Calvin didn’t find it half as funny as we did. It was one of those had-to-be-there type things that will entertain only us, but will entertain us forevermore.


They have been gone just over a week now. The house is pretty bare.


It is done. The first of my old housemates dissipated over a month ago, and a few weeks later, the last joined them on the other side of the city. The house is now full again with my new housemice, and a doggy who’s keeping me company as I finish off this post. The place feels homelier already. I am grateful for the art on the walls, the mess everywhere, the lights on and the live television. Everyone is really chilled and down to earth, and we all look after each other. This is the best situation I could hope for at my age. Of course I miss seeing the oldies on a daily basis, but hopefully this will just push us to make more effort to create social time for each other.

Read All About It

Don’t worry, York
You don’t have to go outside today
About it
There’s frost, quite a lot,
People breathing like dragons,
No snow,
Though there is something speckled in the air,
Maybe it’s trying to snow, maybe someone’s ashes have gone astray
Steam rises from the river in a Dickensian manner, bleak yet cosy in its familiarity,
Don’t worry, don’t look, just
About it
There’s a man on the footbridge
Taking pictures
But I won’t do the same
My descriptions should suffice
If they don’t, your imagination is due an update.
It should be enough to just
About it
I contemplate Dickens and fog
as I descend the steps at the other end
A man appears, passes
Smoking a pipe
Swinging his right arm in a controlled way
Adding to his drama
Which is swiftly detracted from by his beanie hat and backpack
Though I still enjoy him.
Don’t leave your homes, don’t leave your Facebook,
About it.


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