Monday, 13 May 2013

The Daily Bread

In some mad moment I decided this blog was going to be a dating blog, which falls afoul of my opening statement as to how this blog would be about everything, and essentially nothing in particular other than my whims and musings.

I read a passage from an essay by Joan Didion, who writes far more eloquently than I could ever hope to. I do no justice in paraphrasing the chord she struck around keepers of notebooks, who at once are fully aware that what they write is not in keeping with fact. Also, the perception of writers as wild and untamed, when in reality, in our depths we are obsessed with control. The filter is ours and we are completely in charge of our gospels. So this blog remains.

People don't scare me at first glance, I think this is something I feel proud of. I see others unsettled by meetings and interaction, terrified of the other. I can sit and talk with anyone, and I have grown from a very shy socially awkward person to the one I am now. I am not altogether sure of the journey, but travel and working in retail has certainly helped.

Dates are interesting things, and having a propensity towards seclusion sometimes I think it not an awful idea to get out there and just go on a few dates. Nothing fancy, just some coffee.

I used to come at dates from a different angle, I was completely on the search for a soulmate. Well, let me tell you I've been to Camelot and Guinevere doesn't exactly lead the charmed life. Let's not be bitter, I learned a lot from my relationships and I have loved deeply. I would not change those experiences for the world, whatever the result. What I mean is, I don't see them as the epitome of a life. I don't think the end goal is to find a husband, but relationships can be life-changing and I am not closed to the idea of spending a good chunk of my life with someone else.

So anyway, coffee.

I met two people for coffee this week, both so pleasant. No spark, and no bother. Just coffee and conversation and new people. I have talked literature, identity, race, music, Kindles vs. real books and Dr. Who. It's been fun, it has made me feel sociable and a little bit more complete. I have also learned I am in absolutely no rush, and not at all prepared for anything heavy.

I spent Sunday morning getting to work on a rail replacement service. Well prepared for the inconvenience, I downloaded three well-worn albums: Madonna's American Life, Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Pill and Lady Gaga's Born This Way.

American Life has aged better than it had any right to, and although in my memory I thought of it as a messy sprawling album, it is actually very tight, and incredibly bared. I surprised myself to find more in Jagged Little Pill to identify with, I thought I had grown beyond the obsessive Alanis Morissette listener and just looked back with fondness, but the aggressive album-opener All I Really Want spoke to me like it never had. Hand In My Pocket remains my life outlook neatly packaged into a catchy four minute harmonica extravaganza. Born This Way still has a lot to give me, and it amuses me how turned off I was by the album on initial listen and how it slowly crept up on me and travelled through everything this past year has given me.

On the way home, my phone died on me, so I had no music to listen to. I had no book to read, nothing to distract me from the life around me. I realised how much I miss sometimes when I walk around in the cocoon of my headphones. I picked up conversations, sounds, and even smells I normally traipse straight past.

So much to learn, in sound and silence.

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