2. I left facebook around nine months ago. I completely obliterated my account – deleted all posts, comments, photographs, and friends – and then deactivated it. Been very happy ever since and not missed it one bit. However, for a couple of uni things – squash notices, some writing stuff – an account became necessary; I remembered one I still had that used one of my secret email addresses. No friends or nothin’ on it – not even my real name – it just exists. Anyways, after realising that I would need it active for at least a few weeks I decided to add my current email address, just to see who might find me. And what happened? I started getting friend requests from people I was pretty sure didn’t give a jot about being my friend; this was confirmed when I wrote back to them, explained that I was no longer using facebook, gave them my email address and said, but we can keep in touch that way, and all they did was say, ok, have a good life. They didn’t want me, they just wanted their numbers up. As I once did too. A couple of other people, seeing me reappear in their ‘people you might know’ thing went one step further and said, ‘how! hey come you defriended me in the first place? that isn’t very nice,’ and I had to explain to them that I hadn’t defriended them, that I’d quit and was briefly back. Conclusion from this: my God, they hadn’t even noticed my absence from their virtual life for the best part of a year – but they sure noticed it when they thought I’d booted them out of my friend collection. Anyway, not wanting them to feel neglected and hurt I explained again and, same thing, they just said, ok.
3. I should go to bed now. After a few good weeks Nicky's come home with a black cloud over her head and I think I can hear her snivelling. Hot damn! Is it because I wasn’t here during the sixty-minute window between her getting home from work and her dining with a friend? Like I’m supposed to be at her beck and call. Women! Tsk! (Actually, it’s most likely something to do with the dream she had this morning in which we broke up. Coupled with my dream of a few days back I gotta wonder, something in the air again? We’ll see…)
Written by Rory Miller at 22.51 on a Friday night in April
4. When I woke up I was thinking, “who the hell is Sally Slater?” The last three mornings she’s been in my dreams – no actual appearance or face or activities, just an awareness of the name and the knowing that it means something significant. I thought she was maybe off Eastenders; but on googling her I see she’s actually a teenager from Yorkshire who was in the news back in 2000 because her heart had been destroyed by some mysterious disease and her family were desperately trying to find a donor. She was in a hospital in Newcastle and reports said she was basically hours from death. Strange thing is, I now recall that event as Shawn and I were driving past Newcastle on our way to Scotland and we both felt a massive pull to go and see her. Of course, we were well into the healing thing at the time. So we went, and waited a while, and the message came back that her parents weren’t interested. I think we did some prayers in the waiting room and then left. In any case, a heart came through and she got better and now she’s alive and well. Good good – but why on Earth is she popping up in my dreams?
5. Regarding 3. The thing is, Nicky sometimes gets upset when I’m not home for when she gets home. Takes it as me not wanting to spend time with her, or that we don’t spend enough time together. Man, that bugs me! Puts all this pressure on me like I have to be here at a certain time whether I want to be or not. And – well, fact is that there are a lot of hours in the day and usually she’s out for ten of them working and then quite often a couple of the rest doing yoga or seeing a friend. Last night was a case in point: she had dinner arranged and so was out for a while. Fairy snuff: it’s good to go out and see your friends. But how come I get punished for the time I’m out while she’s free to come and go? And how come the time we get together is then ruined by her moaning and sulking about, ‘it would have been nice to spend some time together’? Women!
What I’ve decided is she’s being selfish. She’s chosen to spend most of her week in work and that’s of no benefit to me or our relationship. It’s not to support us or to add anything to our lives materially. It’s not really of any benefit to her either, since it makes her quite unhappy, except in a purely financial way. She’s in it for the money, and she wants the money so she can go travelling at some point this year, and she’s mostly thinking about going travelling alone. Ten hours out of each weekday, doing something she dislikes purely for the money, and yet I get doghoused ‘cos I’m not here at 6pm to spend an hour together before she goes out again.
NB: I’m not moaning. I’m not particularly bothered by this. It’s her black cloud and I got enough in my life to keep me in the sunnies. I just think it’s interesting, that’s all, and worthy of record.
6. Regarding the above: on Thursday I went over to Harry and Simon’s after football, which would have been about 10.30pm. Nicky was at yoga 6-7.30 and I left the house before she got back from that. I guess I got in a little before 1, so we went something like 19 hours without seeing each other, and all that seeing entailed was really just sleepy bed time and maybe a peck and a cuddle. Perhaps that was the problem too. But so what? Where’s the rule that people have to see each other every day? Who cares? Jesus: put a little space in your togethernesses, then maybe you’ll have something to talk about when you get together instead of just watching movies.
7. I’ve been rocking this week: I’ve organised a squash tournament and got 12 students fighting it out for 4 places to play a Varsity match against the Met. How to pick those 4? Easy: 4 groups of 3; then a winners’ group and a second-placer’s group; then the top three winners become the top three seeds; then the fourth-placed winner plays the first-placed second-placer and they’re the number four seed. That’s the way to make sure the best four players emerge. Also, it gives everyone plenty of games. Also, it’s awesome! I could really get into this sports-organising malarkey.
8. In fact, sports is by far and away my number one thing at uni. All the squash and football I’m playing and trying to get people together for. The refereeing, which has travelled light years over the past six months, and which I never dreamed of before I got here. Getting involved in the Intramural program, meetings with the Sports Development team and putting forward ideas and seeing them come into reality. And the coaching thing too, which I’ll begin in May. I don’t know why I never thought it in my younger years but earning my crust from sports would just be awesome. Coaching, reffing, or even admin, such as working here at the uni – how cool would that be? Sports ain’t dull – it’s alive.
9. Conversely, my studies are dull and pretty much dead. Two projects to do to complete my MA and I couldn’t give a monkeys: drafts were supposed to be handed in this Monday just gone and my pulse hasn’t even twitched. I suppose it’ll happen but it really just feels like ticking boxes. Writing, I no longer care about, dream of, or aspire to. Blogging is fun and easy. The rest of it? Slaving over books that don’t say anything new? Working your ass off for some crumbs from the table of TV and dream one day of a job on Eastenders, the crown of the pyramid? In comparison with sports, it’s all so dry and stupid: I picked up a book on critical literary theory, hoping it might spark something for a proposed essay, but the only thing I got from it – from whichever page I turned to – was, man, these people should really get a life. Strings of words appearing intelligent but actually just gobbledygook. It’s sad to live in a world where this kind of thing is trumpeted.
10. The other thing I’ve done in the past week or so was complete once again Retrospec’s amazing version of Head Over Heels. Yay! Such a good game. I still recall happy and challenging hours from childhood plugging away at it on my old 464. Much better at it now though. Adulthood’s the time for playing computer games, I reckon: kids just ain’t got the coordination or the smarts. :-)
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