This week could well be crunch time for me, for several reasons. First off, it'll be the first time I have to pay the exorbitantly high taxes that have been inflicted on me this year. Suddenly living on more than 30% less every month is quite a shock to the system, especially with Psycho still out of work.
Secondly, this week is the last before the clauses suspensives on the new apartment. That means it's the last week when either side can pull out (for legal reasons) at no cost: after 8 April, if either the sellers or I pull out, it'll cost us a lot of cash. It's also the week when I shall be sending off my final application info for the 1% loan, various other official things and to the solicitor...
Finally, however, it may also be crunch week because Amel has holiday time. She's around during the week and available to go and do something, finally... if I can get her to answer her phone!
"Where does he get all those wonderful toys?"
Late last night, I finally got around to installing my latest and greatest PC upgrades. The place where I work gives part of the yearly bonus at the six-month point of the financial year, which works out as February, so I set aside a part of mine to purchase some new gadgets. Given that this will probably be the last time for the next twenty years or so that I can afford to buy myself a present (because of the apartment purchase), I went the whole hog.
So I opened up both PCs and set to work. Well, I opened the main one, anyway, since the secondary doesn't have a cover on it right now. I know that I've always said "never do an upgrade late at night", since it almost invariably leads to several hours of lost sleep when everything goes pear-shaped, but I just couldn't resist!
First off, I've added a 160Gb drive to the primary and moved a 60Gb one into the secondary. Unfortunately, Windows seems to want to recognise only 128Gb of this new drive, so I'm a bit peeved, but it's still a bonus. At least the BIOS recognises it properly, so one day I should be able to convince the OS to pick it up properly without destroying everything currently stored on it. The secondary PC didn't mind the new drive addition too much - it surprisingly picked it up straight away and seemed happy, although it wouldn't boot to Windows. I figured it out after about 15 minutes: apparently, hard drives have to be connected to the IDE cable to work... oops.
The second addition to the primary PC was a DVD-R drive. Yup, writable DVDs have arrived in my living room. I've moved the CD-RW into the secondary for the moment, since it didn't even have a working CD drive and now have the funky black DVD creator installed. Surprisingly, again, the system picked it up correctly without any hassle!
Now, if only I had something I actually wanted to write to DVD...
It's been a couple of days since I set up those two logins on Pukero. Er, sorry, on Yafro. Today, I decided to go back and look at the comments, then to close the accounts, since they're just spamming my spare email addresses.
So what's happened? Let's see. The male picture comments first: only three from women, one of which was pretty 'forward', the second complimentary and the third asking what magazine the picture came from! More amusingly, some guy felt the need to send a few insults, presumably out of jealousy.
The female picture got rather more interest: seventeen comments, of which a mere four were 'forward'. The others were all complimentary and one user in particular was very polite and could even spell.
As expected, most people couldn't string together more than a few words and couldn't spell those, punctuate or understand grammar - my personal favourite was "where r u form hun", which is either some kind of mentally deficient version of "Where are you from, honey?" or a cat walking across the keyboard.
What did surprise me was that most males were relatively restrained. OK, so I just posted a head shot, but there was very little of the expected crap in comments. That's reassuring.
Incidentally, there appears to be no way to unsubscribe from the service.
Today is the one year anniversary of this blog. Yes, it's been a whole year since I posted the initial So It's War... entry. It's also a year since the war in Iraq started.
Since then, some 265 posts and 410 comments have appeared. How time flies!
While wandering the web, I came across this misbegotten child of putrescence. Created by the same people who built the web's very own Home Of Shallow People, it's basically a free picture posting setup to cash in on all those mobile phones with cameras built in. Note to Jackie: free picture posting space!
As you can tell, I'm not too keen on the idea - not because of what it is at a technological level, but because it embodies so many of the things that I dislike about the USA°.
The assumption that other people would be interested in an individual's photos is far too close to the current unhealthy trend of reality TV shows. Looking at this in a positive way, the site could be seen as a little peep-hole into other people's lives, their loves, their hates and what's going on in their corner of the world. On the other hand, it's more likely to be a breeding ground for misogynistic assholes who want precisely that: a peep-hole for their own personal peep show.
However, the main problem will, of course, be the Neanderthals who use it. By building a 'cool' site, one can almost guarantee that the primary subscription group wil be adolescents. This runs headlong into my personal hatred of dewdspeak¹ and of lads². So I thought I'd prove³ my point by running a little experiment.
Firstly, I scoured the internet for a couple of pictures of mainstream-attractive individuals. I picked people who are not at all famous, so that they would not be recognised. Then I opened two accounts with spare email addresses and posted one picture on each: one female, one male. The profile on both accounts lists the owner as male, so I kept the description on the female pic very neutral, while the one on the male pic made out it was me.
Now, I just sit back and wait for the comments to come in. I'm betting that the female pic gets at least three times as many comments and that they're much more forward. I expect offers to chat, requests for more 'interesting' pictures and general lad commentary that would make most intelligent females sigh and shake their head.
We'll see.
° I do not dislike the USA as a rule, just certain things about the culture.
¹ U no w4t I m33n?
² The British term for the regression of males (and now females) into a state of beer-guzzling, football-watching, farting assholes who think it's funny and clever to objectify women, be offensive and grow up as stupid as possible.
³ This will not, of course, prove my point at all - at least not scientifically. It will, however, hopefully prove amusing.
Well, it's apparently catching. Yes, blogging is a virus. The Braunstonian has been infected and there's nothing I can do to cure him. Well, OK, so it was my fault in the first place. But we shouldn't think about that now, should we?
33.333333333333336% of me is a huge nerd! How about you?
#E6E6FA |
Your dominant hue is blue, making you a good friend who people love and trust. You're good in social situations and want to fit in. Just be careful not to compromise who you are to make them happy. Your saturation level is very low - you have better things to do than jump headfirst into every little project. You make sure your actions are going to really accomplish something before you start because you hate wasting energy making everyone else think you're working. Your outlook on life is bright. You see good things in situations where others may not be able to, and it frustrates you to see them get down on everything. |
Yesterday was a lovely day, despite growing concerns that Psycho's "stepping up to the plate" to help out with the new flat will probably just cause me to fall into massive debt. I mean, how can I feel relaxed about her promises to bring in money when she can't even manage to pull herself together enough to go for an interview this morning? On the other hand, I am no longer obliged to support her, so if she can't afford to eat, it's her own fault.
There was no particular reason yesterday was so nice: it was just one of those days when life trickles by like a happy little stream, the birds are singing and the internet connection runs at over 2Mbits.
Psycho woke me up on Sunday morning with a whiny phone-call at about 9:30, but that was OK since I was bordering on being awake anyway. I'd gone to bed at 2:00 the previous night, so I was a bit tired, but even so I'd managed to sleep more than usual - most nights, I get between six and seven hours of slumber.
I managed to put off speaking to Psycho for the whole morning, too, although she did phone once for a few minutes. The hours wandered by as I watched a couple of silly TV series, played a game or two and just relaxed in my favourite chair with the cat on my lap.
Around lunchtime, I got my skinny little butt into gear and did my Tae Bo workout: apparently I'm starting to get back into a little better shape after the bout of 'flu at the beginning of the year and that cold recently, since I could still stand up after exercising. I could even use my arms. Impressive. As you can guess, I like to push the limits a bit when I exercise on Sundays - last week's warm-down session stopped about half-way through when I suddenly found myself on my hands and knees. My legs had decided they no longer wanted to bother supporting my weight and collapsed under me. Rather amusing, to say the least! During the week, on the other hand, I prefer to maintain my ability to walk.
Tae Bo time is also playtime for Pie, or La Patate¹ as I also call him since he's such a couch potato. He seems to think that roundhouse kicks, front kicks or any form of movement where a foot leaves the ground is an invitation to leap into the air and claw at the moving limb. At first, this obviously worried me - he has pretty sharp claws - but in the end, it doesn't hurt that much², he gets a huge amount of amusement and exercise out of it and it helps me to concentrate on the movements. I have to be aware not only of where I am and how my limbs are shaping the necessary forms, but of where he is and if he is about to attack. It definitely adds an extra something to the exercises when there's a flying furball trying to nab my foot in mid-air!
After the Tae Bo comes the nice, relaxing, hot bath... complete with gasps of pain as I lower my feet into the water and all those fresh new cat-cuts squeal out at me. Then it's lunch time and an afternoon of relaxation, usually interrupted hourly by whiny-ass phone calls from Psycho. Yesterday, however, she had woken up early, so she went off for a snooze in the afternoon, freeing me from all her complaints about life.
So the hours trickled by with the first two parts of the BBC adaptation of The Day Of The Triffids and some PC games. Very relaxing.
Come evening-time, it's off to Psycho's, to play punch-bag to her attitude. Once again, life decided to be unexpectedly kind to me: she was tired and fed up. She didn't feel well. Normally, we'd wander out to one of the local cafés for a few hours to talk (or whine), but she didn't feel like doing that, so we sat and watched some TV (cartoons!) instead. She went to bed really early, too, so I waited for my washing to finish - she has a machine and I don't, and is kind enough to let me use it, which saves me several hours in a launderette - and shuffled off home.
On Saturday, I had promised to phone Amel. Cashier Girlie is causing me a great number of pauses for thought. To explain: I find all women attractive. Every one of them has something special. Whether it is lovely eyes, an astounding intellect, a great laugh, firm buttocks or whatever, every human has something attractive and interesting. Some just have more than others, which is what causes me to stop and gawp.
After a short time, however, as familiarity with the person begins to set in and I begin to notice the details a bit more, I generally find them less attractive physically. This is, I should be careful to point out, not necessarily normal for men, although I obviously can't speak for everyone. It's a personal defense thing for me: because I'm scared to death by relationships and women in general, my subconscious tells me to find them less attractive so I can avoid that whole deal. To balance this, the attraction can deepen on the intellectual and emotional side, maintaining my interest until I can get past the stupid fear.
The thing with Amel, though, is that each time I see her at the checkout, there's something else attractive. Take Saturday, for example: she'd left her hair down (long and black... yum!) and that smile! Pause for thought, most definitely. In some ways, this is a good thing - it hopefully shows I'm finally coming out of a period of being so afraid of relationships that I can finally find someone attractive. In another way, given my past choices of women, it could easily mean that she's a total fruitcake³.
Since I'd promised to phone her, I did so last night, but she wasn't there. She did ask for my email address when I saw her at the weekend, so I left her a card from work. That's something I don't really like doing, not because I don't want people to have all my details but because I feel it comes across as trying to impress them. Still, she asked and it was the easiest way to give her all the info without having to faff around. Again, this could be a good thing. It could mean she's a little like me and has less trouble chatting via the written word than on a phone (I really don't like phones). At the very least, it'll be another form of contact that could lead to a great friendship or more.
I guess we'll have to see.
¹ A patate is a 'spud', whereas a pomme de terre is a 'potato' (literally a 'ground apple').
² I grew up with cats. Not only did my family own the toughest ginger tom in the area (who was cuddly as heck with me), but there were at least a half dozen others around. Consequently, I am virtually immune to any diseases carried by them from the hundreds of scratches received in my youth and hardly notice the pain of said attacks because they're so familiar.
³ Loony, mad person, deranged individual.
That was interesting. Although I didn't notice it, apparently my fiddle-faddling around over the weekend broke the blog comments! Thanks to this lovely Canadian, I found out things were broken this morning and set to putting things right.
Unfortunately, at the same time as installing MT-Blacklist, I put the latest upgrade on: this was mostly to gain the ability to close comments if I still get spammed by brainless morons. It seems to have been the upgrade that broke everything, since switching off the blacklist plugin didn't have any effect.
Anyways, I didn't have time to mess around this morning (and I can't debug Perl), so I just eradicated everything on the server and reinstalled MT from scratch. It only took about 15 minutes to get everything back up and running again and I now have a nice, clean install. Sounds good to me.
The MT-Blacklist plugin does seem to add a short delay to the comments window when it's opening, though, which is annoying. That part of the blog is slow enough without having additional delays.
Let me know if things are still screwy, please. As usual, you can use the comments or direct email to me at employees.org!
Well, that was easy. MT Blacklist is now active. If your comments get refused, you should be informed and able to resubmit them (at a guess), but I've never seen this thing running, so it'll all be a bit of an adventure...!
Blog spam has picked up again recently, so I've been looking at ways to stop it. Unfortunately, MT doesn't provide automatic closure of comments after a given period, which is without a doubt the easiest way to do things, so I may have to look into the MT Blacklist addition. Trouble is, none of those extra doodads have ever worked on my install, mostly because of my impressive lack of knowledge when it comes to Perl scripts.
It still surprises me that people even bother to spam, to be honest. I mean, imagine you're reading a blog and you have a look at the comments at the bottom of the post. In there is an advert from some stupid-ass neanderthal offering you hair restorer, penis enlargement or some other such ridiculous pile of crap. Are you really going to click that link? Nope, you're going to think "Jeez, yet another asshole earning their living by infesting the lives of other people with their parasitic nonsense."
Here in France, there's public outcry at the amount of advertising: yes, it's true, people are in the streets demonstrating against marketing campaigns. How weird is that? In some ways, I can see their point: virtually every surface imaginable is covered with publicity, no one is left to think for themselves (so they say, although personally I think that's insulting - they're saying we're all too stupid to have an opinion) and so on.
Recently, the people who run the Metro charged a bunch of individuals with defacing their property, because they spray-painted over adverts and stuck stickers on them and so on. A few days later and "free expression areas" were being put up in Metro stations - basically a blank advert, where people can write whatever they want.
You have to love the French attitude about art being as important as science or anything else in life. It leads to some really bizarre crap happening.
Since my father was a preacher, you can imagine that my upbringing was infested (or should that be infused?) with plenty of religious knowledge. The story of Lazarus springs to mind today. This chap was a friend of Beardie (that'd be Jesus) who was really ill. The guy's family called him for help, but by the time he arrived, Lazarus was dead and buried. So they wandered up to the grave, opened it up and Jesus called old Lazarus out, ostensibly raising him from the dead. It is also, incidentally, the story in the Bible with the shortest verse: "Jesus wept."
Why does this spring to mind today? It does so because this just happened to my flat purchase plans: they were dead and buried, but after a conversation with Psycho this morning, they're alive again.
To cut a long story short, she has released me from my promise of looking after her (or rather, has minimised it to a sustainable point). She's going to look after herself now and, despite some tough times ahead, we should be able to make ends meet.
What can I say, apart from "WHOOPEEEEEEEE!"?
Via Flowerhead, some 40 questions:
1. What color are your kitchen plates? Various!
2. What book are you reading now? None, unless you count game manuals.
3. What's on your mouse pad? Er... my mouse...
4. What's your favorite board game? None really, but Monopoly is fun.
5. What's your favorite magazine? None. I don't read them.
6. What's your favorite smell? Apple pie and ice cream.
7. Least favorite smell? Pork, in its many forms.
8. What is the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning? What's that damned annoying bleeping noise?
9. Favorite color? Black.
10. Least favorite color? White.
11. How many rings before you answer the phone? One or two.
12. Future child's name? No intention to have them.
13. What is most important in life? To avoid suffering.
14. Favorite sound? Sad, but probably PCs starting up!
15. Chocolate or vanilla? Strange, but vanilla. Chocolate flavour things always taste artificial.
16. Do you like to drive fast? No.
17. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? Nope, unless you count a cat that just ate!
18. What type was your first car? A Talbot Horizon.
19. If you could meet one person dead or alive, who would it be? Winona Ryder.
20. Favorite alcoholic drink? A nice red wine.
21. What is your sign & your birthday? Capricorn. I don't tell people my birthday.
22. If you could have any job what would it be? I'd love to own a bar or nightclub.
23. Ever been in love? Of course.
25. Do you type with your fingers on the right keys? Yes, otherwise the words would come out wrong. I don't touch-type, though.
26. What's under your bed? The floor.
27. What do you do when bored? Play PC games.
28. Favorite sport to watch? Sumo wrestling or skiing.
29. What is your single biggest fear? Spiders.
30. One nice thing about the person who sent this to you? She has a lovely smile.
31. person you asked to fulfill this is most likely to do it? Not applicable!
32. the person you asked to fulfill this is least likely to do it? See 31.
33. Favorite cd? My own compilation of The Cure.
34. Favorite tv show? Stargate.
35. Ketchup or mustard? Ketchup.
36. Hamburgers or hot-dogs? Either!
37. Favorite soft drink? Milk.
38. The best place you have ever been? My bed.
39. What screen saver is on your computer right now? None.
40. Burger king or mcdonald's? Burger King. MacDonalds taste like plastic.
After much heart-rending budgeting last night, it looks like the French tax system has successfully stopped me buying the new flat. Even if Psycho didn't exist (or at least cost me absolutely nothing), it would be difficult to pay for the new place, given the monstrous extra amounts I will have to pay in income tax this year.
In a way, it would be possible: I could cut back on as much as possible, not buy anything fun and live a more simple existence, yet at the limit of my income even so. This is not really an option for me, emotionally speaking. When I came to France, I did so with huge debts in the UK (and when I say huge, I mean humungous). I lived on as little as possible for a long time, worked my arse off and paid back whatever I could whenever I could. In the end, the debt was cleared, but the scar left by the strain of that period remains: I do not wish to live at the limit any more.
Instead, I have decided on a new course: to cut back on as much as I am comfortable to do, to save what I can and encourage Psycho into work that will pay for her life. That way, I can reserve some money to buy somewhere in a while. I must say that I find it odd to pay less for rent than to buy my own place - something is wrong with the system, there.
So, today, I have notified the bank that I am withdrawing from the purchase. This is, without a doubt, one of the worst, most depressing moments of my life.
Before any British readers start to ridicule me about the BBC television series, I never have and never will watch it. So there. The crossroads of which I speak is a philosophical or theoretical one, a moment in life where the future can go one of several ways. In this case, it's more of a fork than anything, I suppose, since there are only two real choices.
What am I blathering about? Well, I found out this morning that the estimation of tax I will have to pay in the coming year was accurate. This means I suddenly lose an additional 25% of my net income every month (at least). As you can imagine, when you're being taxed at about 40% to begin with - that's just the 'social charges' - and then have to pay more, to the point where the overall tax rate comes out at between 50% and 60%, life gets difficult.
Of course, I should just get married and spawn three children: then the rates would be reduced massively. Single people who earn good salaries pay stupidly large amounts of money to support everyone else, it seems. Terribly unfair, especially when such insanely high percentages are involved. As an aside, I've never understood why families aren't taxed more - hell, they're the ones putting such a strain on the health service, schools, government and everything else, not me. Catholic countries. Pah.
Anyway, the choices present themselves: basically, I have become much poorer since finding out how much tax I have to pay, so I now have to either give up on the new flat or cut my costs dramatically. I suppose there's also a third option of going back to the UK where taxes are lower, but I don't really want to consider that.
Surprisingly, when I spoke to Psycho, her response was to buy the new place and stop supporting her. She'd rush to get a job and take on her own costs, become independent and stop relying on me to get her out of the messes she ends up in with scary regularity. Of course, my fear is that she will fail totally and I won't be able to be there for her - contrary to the promise I made her some years ago and that, like all my (few) promises, I intend to keep - but on the other hand she may just succeed and push herself into real life. That would indeed be wonderful.
In many ways, hers is an offer I cannot pass up, since it is what I have been pushing her to do. I just feel bad about it.
Stolen entirely from Srah (see blogroll), this physical attractiveness test is excellent. t's quite long and complex, but comes out surprisingly accurate. My only problem with it is the "people who would be attracted to you" section, which I would have thought would be better as "people you hope would be attracted to you in return".
My results indicate that I am "Very Picky: The fact is you are drawn to the most beautiful of the beautiful. You know what you like in women and are more selective than most men your age. Your tastes seem instinctual. You'd make a great casting agent, because you have a good eye for women who have "star quality." In real life, your high standards may be an obstacle for you. It's hard to find a woman with the strong features you like, who's also well-rounded in other ways. Still, you know the importance of a real physical "spark" in a relationship, and aren't willing (or able) to settle for less. The challenge is finding a woman who really wows you physically, even if she's not the most attractive woman in the room."
In addition: "Your choices show a consistent interest in a wide variety of Asian women. These women really stood out to you as being very appealing." and "One type of body you seemed to like is scientifically called an "Ectomorph," which is a fancy way of saying you like "skinny" women." Both of these are extremely accurate!
I apparently look for "diamond" faces, "pointed-square" chins, brown eyes, glasses, "exotic" (i.e. non-standard) noses that are not small, natural lips without makeup, nice smiles and long, straight, black hair. Not that far off the mark!
It's one of those weeks again: stress for breakfast, tension for lunch and pressure for dinner. The weekend flew by with all the problems that have been piling up and my vague, feeble attempts at sorting them out.
The amazing news is that Psycho seems to have finally twigged that I have no money. Of course, I had to resort to the "can't afford to buy the new apartment" line of scare mongering to wake her up to the harsh reality of trying to pay for her life on my salary, but at least it worked. I'll be a manipulator yet. So she's now aware of the problems and should be working really soon: no more searching for the perfect job - but equally no taking really crappy soul-destroying work just for a little extra cash.
On the more negative - or at least more immediately stressful - side of things, the flat-purchase has run into a bit of a mangler. The agency wants to cash my cheque for the solicitor's fees, but of course, I don't have that kind of money lying around in my bank account. I need to speak to the bank to get their arse in gear for documentation: this I can then send to the people for the 1% loan, who will dump the cash in my account and bingo! Fees paid. The guy at the agency can hold onto the cheque for a little while longer, but not much. Major stress.
Financial worries seem to be in fashion in my life at the moment, too: I filled in my tax forms this weekend and the government's online calculator tells me I will have to pay between three and four months' salary in income tax! Considering I already pay some 40% of my monthly income in social charges, this addition would mean that I end up paying 60% of my income to the government - without including the taxe d'habitation or any other occasionals. It would also mean I simply cannot afford to buy my own place. That's just insane. I shall speak to a finance person at work to clear up what the hell's going on there. At least if I get the new flat, I'll be four doors away from the tax office...
Saturday was a good day, apart from all the stress. Most of the day I spent being a PC-Potato, playing games and so on. In the afternoon, I dropped in on the agency to organise that stuff and keep Monsieur Chouchana up to date on things: it's best to be polite and make sure he knows what's going on, or he'll cash that damned cheque and I'm buggered. After that, it was off to the supermarket for the shopping and to say hello to Amel.
This was, strangely enough, the highlight of my weekend: as I arrived at her checkout, the guy behind me said hello. It turned out to be an Indian chap I know, who runs a jewellery shop in the same street. He's an annoying toad, to be honest, since he talks excessively and spouts pseudo-philosophical bullshit at every opportunity (since his name is Yogi, I suppose he feels he has to), but we get on fine. Presumably, this is because I see right through his act and don't take him seriously. He also knows most of the cashiers at the supermarket and has an irrepressible need for humour, much like me.
By the time we had finished, half the cashiers, the supermarket boss and both of us were laughing our heads off, which was brilliant. Yogi also has the annoying habit of matchmaking and, since we were both at Amel's checkout, that turned out to be mildly embarrassing. I missed something he said (about me) that made her laugh, though, which was annoying.
Speaking of Amel, things are stationary there. We chat on the phone and still get on fine, but that's about it. We did talk about her university and so on, and she invited me along if I would be interested to see where she studies and meet some of her friends or whatever: sounds like a plan to me. I shall see if I can sort something out for a morning while I'm off work some time. I'm sure there must be some nice quiet corners of the library that need exploring.
Sunday was an excellent day, all thing considered. Of course, the tension hanging over me for the whole bank-money-Psycho-loans-taxes thing was a downer, but I had a lovely time nonetheless. Having totally overdone my Tae Bo session to the point where I couldn't stand up and actually collapsed in the warm-down (not unconscious or anything, just had zero energy left), I spent the rest of the day being a PC-Potato again. In my defense, this was mostly because hobbling to the kitchen, bathroom or anywhere else took a very long time and most of my remaining energy.
Psycho was having a bad day, since she'd woken up early, so she went off for a siesta in the early evening. Normally, we go off to a local café at that time, so I suddenly had some free time and my energy had come back. Scarily enough, an hour later, the bathroom was clean, the entire flat vacuumed, the cat's litter changed and all the bin-bags dumped downstairs for collection. Excellent.
In fact, when I went over to see Psycho, she was still fast asleep. I tried waking her, but she didn't want to be roused. Having fed Biscotte, I sat down to watch TV, fell asleep on the futon, woke up, tried to wake her again, failed and ended up watching Stalingrad, then going home to bed. A very relaxing evening.
The positive feeling continues today, since it's turned warmer and the sun's shining. Hell, it's 15°C out there today, which is pretty high for this time in March! Wooooo!
Today I'm pissed off. Really badly "don't f*@k with me or you'll regret it" annoyed. So I'm going to vent and tell you all about it, as if you really care.
First off, I've been oversleeping. I hate that. My alarm goes off at 6:30 and I expect to be up and around within 30 minutes. Today, I fell asleep again after switching off the buzzer and woke up just before 8:00. Traffic becomes horrible very soon after that time, so I got to sit in jams full of gimps leaning on their horns and waving their arms around in true stupid-ass impatient continental dipshit fashion.
Today is one big long meeting. A guy's coming down from Amsterdam to see me about the current project: we need to go through a great big list of details to make sure everything is as he wants it to be. That's not so bad - he's a great guy and knows what he wants, so there should be enough laughs to cover the boredom of slogging through the particulars.
On the other hand, the whole apartment purchase has taken a turn for the worse. The estate agent phoned last night to say that he wants to pay my deposit cheque into their account - an amount of money that I do not have and need the 1% loan from work to cover. Unfortunately, the loan will only appear once I have the final mortgage offer from the bank, who don't have it yet. The loan people are about as fast as slugs on tranquilisers, too, and there's the risk that they will want me to make higher payments (due to low interest rates at the moment), which might not be possible since I'm still supporting Psycho. I will have to pull out of the purchase if this continues, which would really suck.
Speaking of Psycho, she's really pissing me off by worrying about her own money problems and not giving a damn about mine. Those problems, of course, are largely due to over-spending (my) cash on stupid things and not having a job - a situation that doesn't seem to change no matter how many times I shout and scream about the fact that I can no longer afford to pay for everything. It amazes me how little she cares about my plans or desires.
Add to this a little conversation I had with my boss yesterday and I'm about ready to explode. Since most tech skills are being moved to offshore locations in high-tech industry these days, I will have to be careful that my work centres more around analysis and management stuff than the tech skills I enjoy so much. Plus, I've just been asked to be the project manager (in name only) for the reporting thing I'm working on, which will be about as much fun as having my kidneys removed without anaesthetic. Talk about the straw that breaks the camel's back.
So, all in all, I just need to finish today, try to explain to Psycho that she's a pain in the arse, get the bank to do their job, hurry the loan people along, speak to the agency and learn to do work that I don't like. Sometimes, I hate life.
You remember that feeling of foreboding I had a little while ago? I was right.
Psycho phoned this afternoon (not an unexpected occurrence) to say she didn't feel very well. Quite apart from being overwhelmed by a very stressful day, she'd apparently had a bit of a revelation this morning as part of her ongoing head-shrinking¹. She wasn't very sure whether she should tell me, since I've been down recently and according to her, I am seriously concerned by it. After some discussion, I convinced her that she should tell me. I prefer open honesty: at least if she's blunt I can deal with the aftermath, rather than trying to handle something I can't see, understand or even sense.
This 'revelation' was not earth-shattering news for me. Apparently, she's still very much in love with me². I, however, am not in the slightest bit in love with her.
I can almost hear Scary Ross's thoughts: "Ooooh, now this is going to get interesting." *grin*
¹ Since she's a clinical psychologist, she must legally go through an analysis before she can practice and, I believe, be regularly re-evaluated by her peers. That's a full analysis, not just a little therapy. Bummer, huh?
² As you may or may not know, we were together for some five years before I came to France. We broke up about six months after I got here, but have remained best friends since then.
It's an old game, but Scary Ross has been playing and chatting to him piqued my interest enough to reinstall it: Peter Molyneux's Black & White. Since the second one should be coming out soon (relatively speaking, of course) and since I never finished it first time round, it seemed like a good idea.
The game's one of those oddities in that it doesn't really fit into a category very well. It sold mainly on the fact that there's a learning AI built in. To explain: the player is god and has a floaty hand that can interact with the world. However, there's also a huge animal that is the player's 'creature' and a sort of physical avatar in the game world. He or she starts out small and stupid, but the player can actually teach the creature to be nice, to be mean, to play, to eat certain things, to pick up villagers and move them to the other side of the island... pretty much whatever they like. The creature grows and learns to be neutral, good or evil, depending on what the player teaches it. It's an astounding concept that works incredibly well, but for the somewhat lacking story and/or gameplay.
Then again, Peter Molyneux is famous for that. He has these genius ideas but has trouble with the implementation. Personally, I loved this one when it was released, but it ran really slow on my PC at the time and crashed a bit too often. Since I now have a new machine (relative to back then), it runs smoothly and is gorgeous.
So, since I'm a benevolent god, I spent my week convincing a giant tiger to be kind and gentle to my villagers. I've trained him to heal workers, deliver food and wood to their store, dance with them, put out fires with miracle showers and even to poop in the forest instead of on their homes. He doesn't eat the children, throw rocks at buildings or cast fireball spells just to see people burn. What a nice tiger.
He does, however, have some habits I can't seem to break: the main one is his being annoyed when he awakens. Every time he gets up and leaves his temple sleeping ground, he stops by the first house and kicks the crap out of it! Poor little inhabitants never know what's hit them.
Ah, well. One day he'll learn.
It's an odd thing, time. On the one hand, this week seems hardly to have started and it's already Friday. On the other, a couple of days wondering what the hell's going on with a woman seems a lot longer. The truly odd thing is that both of those perceptions can co-exist.
I found out yesterday why I had been feeling so low: yet another festering cold. I'm incredibly susceptible to the little sods, unfortunately, despite being very resistant to almost all other forms of infection I have so far encountered. Chicken pox avoids me, German measles lasted a few days with very little scratching, influenza gets me sometimes and never stays very long, but colds... well, colds come and go with annoying frequency. At least I know why I felt like crap now that it's shown itself and, in addition, it's a physical infection that's leaving my thoughts alone. I hate maladies that make the brain feel all muddy. As long as I can still think clearly and carry on working (from home, where it's warm), things are fine.
It turns out I was being a touch paranoid about Amel, as several people suspected. Another effect of the bizarre workings of time: when we're waiting for something to happen, every hour passing seems long and the mind works overtime to find reasons, assign blame and search out problems or worries. Anyway, she phoned last night and we chatted a little - she had some work to do for a presentation about frontier conflicts and I was a bit zonked by this cold, so we didn't talk long, but it was good to hear from her again. Obviously, I had been rather hasty in my assumptions that she is a manipulative cow because I was down.
It's nice to be wrong.
Having one of those bad periods, here. It's not for any one particular reason, as far as I can tell. Just one of those downer-day times.
Psycho's being a pain in the arse as usual¹. As if the pile of work on my desk, the worries about financing the apartment purchase, the tax forms to fill in, finding enough cash to buy food with her sapping two thirds of my income, moving details, bank hassles, work stress, doing her shopping and listening to her bitch and moan about the same goddamned things every frigging hour weren't enough. Typical.
Amel didn't phone last night, either, despite saying she would: this is not the reason I feel crappy, since I already felt that way (see above), but it's another nail in the coffin. It looks like things are going to follow the standard path for women²: "I'm not interested, but may as well take him for whatever I can get before I actually tell him I'm not interested³". I suspect that the next time we talk, she will ask for help with her English, help with one randomly selected other course and computer support, in exchange for vague insinuations that she might be available some time soon for coffee. Perhaps. If I'm lucky.
Call me a cynic if you like. I really couldn't give a damn. I'll bet you whatever you want that I'm right for the next phone call, if not for the whole thing.
¹ Jackie, I answer the phone because it's polite. I'm English, remember? :)
² Yeah, yeah, that's a horrible thing to say and tars everyone with the same brush. To be a little less general, read that as "with women who will talk to me" or "with women in whom I am unfortunately interested". Better now?
³ Otherwise known as "Let's be friends."
I have just had one of those odd weekends that are both good and bad at the same time. Well, not at precisely the same time: more a sort of consecutive thing, one after the other in a randomly alternating fashion, if you see what I mean. You do? Splendid.
Things started well: I came back from Psycho's place on Friday night to find a message on my answering machine from "Cashier Girlie". She hadn't checked the messages on her mobile all week (or other, similar excuses), but had finally heard my inane jabbering and phoned back. While I was out. Of course. I tried calling her back (it wasn't too late in the evening) and didn't manage to get hold of her, so to speak. Ho hum.
Saturday was a bit more of a nightmare. Psycho's very depressed at the moment, for various reasons, which makes her unbearably demanding and overly narcissistic. So instead of having a nice, quiet morning of vegetation in front of the computer playing Black & White, I had a twice-hourly phone invasion including demands, complaints, anger, annoyance and plenty of whining. Can I do the shopping? Why has she put on weight again? Oh God she's so down. Can I pick up some cigarettes? Can I go over to the busiest bastard of a shop there is on a Saturday morning and pick up some books? Why is life so mean? She has no money. She has no fun. Can I do this? Can I do that? It's all so horrible. Yada yada yada. Ye gods, depressed people are a pain in the arse.
So, after refusing the majority of the requests and dealing with the ones I was willing to handle, I finally settled down for a bit of time to myself. Never gonna happen. The phone invasion continues. Whine, whine, whine. You know, I sometimes wonder if people who complain so much realise how quickly they alienate their friends. I mean, I'm pretty understanding. No, I'm damned understanding, but I'll be buggered if I'm going to continue caring about someone who just goes on and on about how she's such a victim and life is so cruel.
Fuck you. I know life is cruel: I moved country, I got cheated on and dumped by girlfriends, I fought my way out of more debt than you've seen in your life, I put up with being treated like shit by local authorities and landlords because I'm a foreigner here, I struggle to get by every month because I'm paying your rent, food and every-bloody-other-thing while you go out and spend cash as if it were yours. I've been there and lived it and survived it and I still help you out and listen to you, so stop complaining and get the hell on with your life or go away and die somewhere. Just don't expect me to care when you whine about the same crap for the fifty-seventh time today.
Anyway, after much annoyance and very little relaxation, I wandered off to do the food shopping. Crunch-time, since this is where I would see "Cashier Girlie" again - heck, I wasn't going to avoid her! To be honest, I was surprised at how calm I was upon arrival at her checkout: we chatted for a couple of minutes as usual and she was all smiles and so on. Very pleasant indeed. She said she'd phone that evening.
The evening passed slowly, as one would expect: not only because I was starting to get all jittery in anticipation of finally speaking to this woman outside of the supermarket, but also because Psycho was having a massive depression session and being a really heavy downer (if you'll allow me a hippy expression). Time doesn't really fly when you're spending it with someone whose main topics of conversation are unemployment, suicide and Today's Emotional Crisis™.
In the end, the phone call was pretty short and uneventful. She was tired after a day of work and was rather sleepy, so we just chatted for a few minutes. Her response to my suggestion of going for coffee was very neutral ("Perhaps" and "We'll see" figured heavily), but she did detail what days of the week she works, when she's at University and when she's available. I therefore took her reticence as more of a natural defence against macho bone-jumping assholes, of which there is a gamut here in Paris.
Sunday, however, was a different matter. Sunday mornings are always nice: Psycho sleeps late so I get peace and quiet before the emotional harassment starts, plus I leave my Tae-Bo session til around midday. That way, she phones when I'm in the middle of flinging fists and feet (and getting my legs attacked by Pie, who thinks roundhouse kicks are a game where he has to grab my calves in mid-air) and I don't have to answer for a while longer.
A nice hot bath later and I decided to call "Cashier Girlie", as I had said I would the night before. All in all, we spent about an hour and twenty minutes on the phone... apparently we get on really well. We talked about all sorts of things: food (she was preparing her lunch), family, work, studies, living in France, friends, sports and pretty much anything else you would care to mention (except that).
Her name is Amel, by the way. She's Algerian and came to France to continue her studies. Unfortunately, she's on a student visa which is annually renewed. She has a degree in History and is now studying Political Science - this term she's doing English and Feminism courses, amongst others. She's funny, she's smart and she's single. From the way I read things at the moment, she's defensive about the whole 'potential relationship' thing, playing the game of being friends first, finding out about me and getting to know me better before heading that way, but dropping invitations in that direction as she goes. This suits me just fine, I have to say: talking, laughing and getting to know her is great - anything else scares the willies out of me for the moment!
So, there you have it. Much phoning, a lot of talking and a first step in a very pleasant-looking direction. Life's being good to me, apparently, and I'm paying for it with Psycho. That suits me just fine - hell, I'm used to paying dearly with her.