volcanic's Diaryland Diary
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
eh? you tell me...
"So, what would make it better?"
Good question, that one. I mean what would make it better? Is there anything really wrong? Who bloody knows...
I don't mind problems, and I rise well to challenges. I was at my most dynamic and effervescent best when I did my nurse training placement in A&E [that's the ER to you chaps in the colonies]. I panicked liked mad before I started- after all, my nursing experience at that point was limited to caring for the ranting, the neurotic and the demented. Blood and pus had made only minor appearances in my professional life, and I'd never even seen a dead body. Ever.
Talk about a baptism of fire- within my first couple of days I'd done everything from strapping up broken toes to kneeling on the floor holding the bucket whilst the crash team did a peritoneal washout. And it was fantastic. I know I wasn't involved in making any crucial decisions, and I certainly didn't save any lives, but the sheer adrenaline rush of thinking on your feet and acting with speed and efficiency was incredibly stimulating and fulfilling.
See, I can do stuff like that. You tell me it's broken, I'll think of a way to fix it, or where to get a new one, or, if the worst comes to the worst, convince you that you didn't need it anyway. [I think it was Bjork who once said something loosely along the lines of "...in Iceland if someone has their leg amputated, they just say what the hell, it was always getting in the way of the other one anyway]
But yes, woolly, fuzzy, existential mush I struggle with. There's a malingering sense of dissatisfaction around here. There has been for a while. And I haven't got a clue where to start.
I know I wanted more excitement. But how do you define or quantify that? I know I need to get out more. I have visions of being in the pub arguing good-naturedly about books and movies and comics with people who know what they're talking about, and love crappy pop culture and trashy movies and OK! magazine as much as I do. I'm not so hot on politics or religion, but I'm not a total dunce, and I'd do my best.
I'd like to be out wearing something inappropriately tight and glittery, bellowing the P!nk single at a karaoke night, fuelled by lurid alcopops and giving it far too much T&A.
I'd like to be out in a pub where the men outnumber the women, in my Madonna shirt and playing pool badly with my arse in the air.
... it's not just excitement I want, though. I think I need to be a bit more creative. I got the brochure for evening classes today, and it was a bit bloody dull, to say the least. I toyed with the idea of web-design, and then I thought, why? I've managed without any formal training so far. They do a creative needlework thing, but it looks a bit intense, as well as being in the day, which defeats the object a little. And, if I'm quite honest, there aren't going to many blokes there (and before anyone mentions Kaffe Fassett or that knitting vicar that pops up on regional news shows, I don't mean blokes like that)
Bah. It's all daft, really. I just feel like I've got someone else's shoes on right now. They don't fit properly, the style's like something my mother would've chosen, and they don't suit my personality.
Right now I'm searching for the metaphysical equivalent of the perfect pair of Buffalo's. Something a bit like these:
Heheh. Birthday soon... anyone fancy having a whip-round?
11:05 a.m. - 19.03.02
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------