volcanic's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- go west! Slowly but surely, I'm getting back into the habit of writing again. There's a certain sense of irony in being accepted for a degree course in Writing, and then just not doing any for nearly a month. I think I was possibly in denial, pretending that no, I'm not really a writer at heart, who me? and other assorted avoidance tactics. But no, I have to face the facts, I'm going back to university- to do it properly and iron out all some of the mistakes that haunt me from the last time I tried to do a degree course- to study writing and do that whole big, scary follow-your-heart's-desire thing. I must be bloody mental. Except- except- I'm not. I'm not at all mad this time. This one's been researched and planned and it's being done for all the right reasons. For a start, there's no man involved (well, apart from Fatboy, and he's more of a man-in-training than the full-blown hairy, belching variety). All my most recent plans to move away have had a man at their core, and that may well be why they all- luckily- never actually reached fruition. In fact, the men themselves were the reasons why the plans weren't actualised. Just when the house was on the market, or the spangly prospective job was in the bag, my guardian angel (and more often, my best friend or my mum, and even my best friend's mum) helped me to see sense before any lasting damage was done. [Hilarious aside for those of you who remember Arthur: I happened upon Arthur's former wife's entry on Friends Reunited last night. She says she's "enjoying single life after a disastrous marriage" ! I felt quite vindicated when I read that.] So yes, it's happening. I'm going to be leaving the asylum (although admittedly doing some shifts in the one in my new hometown), and packing up my little house and moving to the seaside. I'm going to Go West, very much in the spirit of the Village People, and it feels good. There are 101 practicalities to sort out, but they're being sorted, bit by bit, and I'm finally going to turn my life around a little and do something for me. There are moments when I think "SHIT!", and it all feels ridiculous, but the sense of happiness and calm that I'm feeling about it is priceless. See, good things DO come to those of us who don't just wait, but also make them happen. I'm a bit of a telly head right now. My favourites are Big Brother and Would Like To Meet. BB's had more than enough publicity without me adding my tawdry twopenn'orth, really. However- I pretend that I'm watching it to expand my understanding of the psychology of group dynamics, which is a good enough excuse for me. And if anyone gets off with another housemate, well, that's even better. Last night's clip of Alex asking if they were allowed to "terminate the life of one of the chickens" had me hooting nearly as loudly as I did when Alison broke the table by jumping on it. Now, you all know that despite not being obese (or indeed remotely as curvaceous as Alison), I'm no flimsy slip of a thing. I'm also sufficiently self-aware to realise that non-Kylie-shaped people should NOT, under any circumstances, jump on furniture. Particularly other people's furniture. Sadly, Alison learnt this life lesson the hard way. Would Like To Meet takes the whole medium watching other people's disasters as a form of entertainment to a whole new level. For those of you who haven't had the fortune to see it for yourself, the basic premise is this. Each week, an individual considered "unlucky in love" is coached by a conversation expert, a body language coach and a style consultant into transforming themselves into an object of desire. Last week's victim was a 41 year old man who thought wearing leather trousers with a Mr Bump T-shirt was sexy, never ate vegetables to the point where he was manifesting the symptoms of Vitamin C deficiency, and had a house filled with Noddy toys (and also his childhood pet mouse, which he'd taxidermified himself). Despite initially watching this with the morbid fascination usually reserved for ambulance crews arriving in crowded shopping centres, I found myself curiously uplifted by the changes wrought upon him. In fact, by the end, even Jon himself was so thrilled that he invited all his friends round to admit to them he'd been a complete prat for the past 20 years or so. Wonderful stuff. So wonderful in fact that I'm postponing going to Fatboy's concert until Thursday so I can watch the next one. (No, I don't know how to set up the video. I'm a girl, aren't I?). I have gorgeous patchouli soap in the house, courtesy of the posh soap shop, so in time-honoured fashion, I'm off for my bath now. Then after that, I'm going to write my ten wishes for the month and put them in the west corner of my house, feng-shui stylee, because she says I should. If any of them come true, I'll keep you posted... 9:47 a.m. - 10.06.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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