If Party Rings are involved; I guess it's some kind of celebration

"I need this weekend to be exceedingly simple," I told myself yesterday.  Once I clicked, "Clock out," on my work's Timetable, I rushed every thought concerning my job out of my head.

Naturally a few items linger.  I sometimes worry that I've bought into the mundanity of a regular job.  That sitting for hours in front of screen navigating through administrational duties will slightly cyborg me.  But there are enjoyable moments.  Times where my creative flare is employed.  And when my pragmatism comes out to help someone; even if I'm learning for myself.  Hey; I'm someone too.

I'm still cooking at this job.  Skills are still being absorbed and learnt.  Techniques and tricks are picked up.  And I'm nowhere near as full of panic anytime the phone rings or a complex request comes in.  So with all this in mind, I tell myself that I'm heading in the right direction.

But it's a Saturday.  As if that means anything.  Next Saturday I will be working.  But right now is a time when I'm not clocked in.  And if there's anything I've learnt from previous jobs; I should not be carrying my work with me during my free time.  Which is why when the call for overtime was offered; I told myself that it would be a flat, "No."  I may be trying to save money; but am also in need of saving my soul.  By nourishing it with the world around and within me.  The last two year's lockdowns have proven to me that although I'm good at working; I don't wish to be constantly at it.  Especially after a decade where I did an excess of it.

My thought process is much more on what I have now.  And maybe a little for the future.  That a new chapter will soon be starting.  But mainly for now.  The health I have to enjoy.  The books I've bought in large amounts.  Even my cooking habits reflect this.  By becoming creative with what's present; I'm trying to make the best of what I have - instead of wishing for what I don't.

But the job's hooking-me-to-a-laptop has taken its toll.  It can be a hard process to continuously stick to.  Notably because my previous jobs have been so active and interactive.  On the plus side I do find my own creative writing a lot more pleasurable.

Yet my job is not the only reason I have felt the brunt of exhaustion.

Last week I felt my perpetual singlehood playing with my head.  Ninety-five percent of the time I'm grand being single.

Last Sunday night was the other five percent.

During last weekend I congratulated three people on either their engagement or gaining a boyfriend.  I spoke with another friend about this; and although he's also in a relationship, he did agree with me.  It can be exhausting congratulating everyone as they pair up.  Yet it's always the one way.  No one ever congratulates those who are single on such a lifestyle*.  And I know what a wonderful lifestyle it can be.

But with experiencing that on a Sunday night, before starting a five day run at a job that does need constant attention; Friday evening could not come soon enough.  Once it did arrive, I went on a walk, made a light dinner and was in bed with some radio politics talkshow that lulled me to sleep.  Saturday morning, well rested I indulged in some duvet time at 6:00am.  Rising up I washed my hair.  Spent some time wondering if it will ever have those curls I had when I was sixteen years old.  And headed out for a walk under Belfast's troubling grey skies.  They have yet to erupt with their tears.  Only a matter of time.

Today I have placed myself to my laptop.  And I hope to place various dreams upon the page.  So that I can prove to myself that mundanity doesn't have much of a chance to grip me.

Cher's late 90's hit Believe is playing on a Pride 🌈 playlist that I have on in the background.  I suppose I should take a leaf from the lyrics in such.  Though I have been single for nearly nine years.  And sometimes I'm itching to prove myself on these matters.  Other times I know the reality of there is nothing intrinsically wrong with me; and that I shouldn't be in any hurry for such.  Especially considering the potential I have to really change things within this year.  These latter thoughts and a wealth of (my own and other's) experience has kept me from investing in dating apps.  Which I feel is somewhat another triumph for me.  I am not spending my nights scrolling through profiles of people who have no interest in speaking with me.  As I mentioned, I spent last night getting to sleep early.  And my body and mind are much more nourished that what a night of nothing on apps would have done.

So once I'm settled in for tonight I shall have a frugal time with LGBTQIA+ films and Party Rings.  No doubt will try to arrange these in a rainbow colour scheme.  I shall use the largest mug I have for herbal teas.  And hold it, with my sense of self, close.

I may be single but I can still experience some kind of love.

*Although I've heard of the odd divorcee congratulating another recently divorced individual.

June Afternoon

It's sad that the wondrous Marie Fredriksson has passed away.  For me the first half of the nineties was often soundtracked by Roxette's songs.  It Must Have Been Love would belt out from my parent's first CD player.  And my mother's mouth.  The Look made any activity feel much sassier.  And Almost Unreal (my favourite) always reminds me of my first visit to the cinema on the Dublin Road*.

Yet for nearly every day of this month we can justify June Afternoon.  A song from a time when all seemed possible.  Naturally I fall into nostalgic sways concerning the 90s.  Not least for June; the month that goes on forever at school as pupils anticipate the long summer ahead.  Now because I don't get a large summer holiday; I somewhat extend the vibes into June.  I aimed to get onto doing summery items this week.  Heading to the cinema for blockbusters.  Walks in the park.  Attending gigs.  Playing pool with friends.  Coffee catch-ups.  Day trips to small Northern Irish towns.

And all this I intended to do in the first week of June.  There was coffee with a group I've been meaning to meet with.  A 'Woman's Work' gig is being played at the Oh Yeah! Music Centre in Belfast tonight.  Featuring a couple of friends who are flaunting their oh so good musical talents.  And I even planned a popping to the Strand Cinema in East Belfast.  A cinema at where I always end up in Screen 4.

Yet a positive COVID-test in the household has halted that.  Not me.  I'm perfectly fine.  No symptoms.  So far.  But after all that's gone on in the past two years; and knowing my own ethics; I can't in good conscious head out to various scenarios.  Not to mention that my father is being sent to England this upcoming week for medical procedures.  I don't wish to be responsible for bringing COVID home; stalling his chances of getting the attention he needs.

Tomorrow I should be able to take a test.  If negative, I should be fine with a couple of outdoor activities.  But for today; this June afternoon; I have scones and Alan Cumming's autobiography Stories From A Packed Life.  And tonight I shall carry on with various Pride themed films.  This Pride Month shall have more rainbows about.  I wish I was braver at times speaking about my feelings and being open to those I know will be disapproving.  After so many years of trying to be approved by others; these others have completely shown they have no interest in me.  So why should I be concerned how others see me?  Maybe I'm still learning.  Maybe I'm still aware that I live with my parents.  And maybe I still feel I'm that nineteen year old with the rest of his life ahead of him...and that I need to tread carefully.

But I'm ten times braver now than I was back then.  I don't hide the books I read or movies I watch.  Even if they are LGBTQIA+ related or not.  I no longer feel that air of judgement from others when it comes to me enjoying anything artistic.  For years I would go along with certain opinions just because it would make me feel safer.  And again, a lot of those people are no longer in my life.

As Marie Fredriksson herself would say, "Listen to your heart."

Swedish pop stars are rarely wrong.

*Super Mario Bros.  The Tom and Jerry Movie had stopped its run.  But as a seven year old, Super Mario Bros. was a joy.  I wish Bob Hoskins knew that his pain delivered some pleasure.