Personal Trainer

It transpires that friend's sister is studying to be a fitness trainer, and needs a project to complete her course. She has decided that I am that project, so I will now be eating healthily, exercising regularly, and quitting smoking. If I fail to do any of this then I have a promise that I will regret it under certain vague threats. On the plus side there is at least a reason for me to take up running. Exercising alone is, well, dull. Chasing after an attractive person who you really should not be doing certain things with adds a certain incentive, particularly when promises are made about what happens if you manage to keep up for the entire run.

I still do not like to write about work, so suffice it to say that I am applying for yet another job that I would like but am unlikely to get. Got to be worth a try. I may be travelling to America at some point in the future for a residential training course. Looking forward to that, especially as with any luck I will even be travelling to a place near Mystery. She does not know that yet though, and I do not want to tell her until I have it confirmed, so keep it quiet everyone.

Lack of Imagination

For some reason my brain has just switched off for the time being, or at least to be occupied with other matters than writing blog stuff. I am still trying though, since its relaxing to write now and then. Most of the writing I have been doing recently has been a story I am working on, more for my own entertainment than anything else. Still trying to get more time at work as well.

Actually my mind does not seem to be so much switched off as scrappy and wandering, I keep getting distracted and bored with things. I can focus for a short time, but not long, and I do not know why. To be honest I rather dislike it, I always used to be able to hyperfocus on things, ignoring everything else around me while, for example, I read a book, listened to music, played a game, wrote, practically anything. Now I seem to be unable to concentrate on such things for more than a minute or two at most before my mind starts wandering.

On the other hand I also seem to be a lot more content with life at the moment, much more at peace and settled with things. I do not know if this calmness has to do with my new inability to over-focus, or if it is related to the fact that I have lost my rage and bitterness at the world, my dissatisfaction and irritation at things. Maybe it is just because of the winter. I hope so, I do not like being in this sort of state. I miss my passion in life, even if at times I do not enjoy it. I am comfortable enough, but everything seems grey and dull these days. Comfort is not nearly enough, life is far too simple at the moment. I need some chaos. Maybe it is a form of masochism, maybe not, but things are just far too easy. I need the storm to arrive.

Oops

Oh well, so much for behaving. I have this to say for the friend's sister, she's a good kisser at least. Not the smartest apple in the harvest, but sod it, I have no interest in feeling guilt any more. If I did I would never get anywhere. Nothing has gone further yet, and I suppose it may not, but frankly I am currently horny and lack the money to travel in order to acquire any simpler satisfaction.

Of course as I have said before something in me craves complications in life. We will see what happens this weekend, when I have the house to myself for a while and may have visitors. With luck it may be Russian visiting instead, but still I have only got as far as hugs with her, and chatter. I suspect that is as far as I will ever get, not necessarily because she actually believes me and takes me seriously, but more likely because I actually like her. That is rather a novelty for me, while I do not like to hurt people it is mostly due to the fact that I do not like to be a bad guy. In the case of Russian, and a few others, it is because I actually give a damn. Quite a novelty indeed.

I am mildly drunk at the moment so this entry may not be incredibly consistent, not to mention that the time is rather late, or early depending on how you look at it and I have had a busy day of trying to outwit players. I also miss Mystery, rather a lot, since I have not had time to speak to her recently. She may well not read this, in fact she probably will not, but I still hope that she can make it her soon.

Work is being complicated, I still need to find a way to get myself full-time work rather than simply part-time. I need the extra money, and I need to find a way to use the time that I would otherwise be at work for. At least I need to find a way which is in some way productive and useful, rather than simply sitting and scheming to myself. Tomorrow I meet Russian for coffee again, looking forward to that. I will let you know how it all goes.

I just do not seem to have much to write about at the moment, suggestions, comments or questions are more than welcome. I have a need to write but seem to be unable to think of anything to write about.

Where is my Snow?

Snow means a lot of different things to me, one of the main ones being that I do not have to work if it snows. Above and beyond the fact that I get a free holiday, however, is the chance that snow gives me to just act like a child with no guilt or shame. I can run outside, grabbing friends or family members, and build a snowman or start having a snowball fight without any criticism or disparaging looks. Everyone relaxes just enough to enjoy the snow, regardless of their age, and remembers for a little while how to play.

It is something that most people seem to forget as they get older, the ability to simply play without letting all of the restrictions we feel as adults get in the way. So often we take things too seriously to laugh at them, or find ourselves in too sombre a mood to enjoy the things we wish we could. We mention that things are petty or childish, because it makes us feel older and more important to do so, ignoring the fact that we would secretly love to do those things.

I have been accused by friends, and others, many times of treating life like a game and of not taking anything seriously enough. The problem I find is that when people accuse me of treating life like a game, they often seem to assume that I am playing it as such in order to win some mystical shining prize. As with many other games which I play, I know there is no way to win, the aim is to enjoy getting to the end and have a good time with the other people playing as you do so.

Resolutions

So what will I be resolving to do this year? I am not quite sure myself yet, but there are certain things that I have made a definite decision on.

1. Put effort into whatever I am wearing - No longer am I going to opt for the easy route of jeans and whichever t-shirt I happen to grab. On the rare occasions that I will not be wearing some sort of suit my outfit will now be carefully considered and thought through. I will also be on a continual search for ties, hats, cufflinks, waistcoats and the like, not to mention such styles as a hard-boiled detective ensemble, or pin-stripe gangster suit. I have finally grown bored of the blending in which my normal clothes allow, and decided to go in the opposite direction, not to make a statement as such, merely to stand out a little more than I do already.
2. Reduce the amount of cigarettes I get through - I am not going to try and simply quit overnight, that would be foolish, but I do intend to try and cut down on the number of cigarettes that I smoke until I can get by on one every couple of days. Of course, there is no guarantee this will work.
3. Be more organised - For once I am actually keeping track of money, appointments and so on in a little diary. If I can keep this up then I might even be able to avoid double-booking arrangements as I have many times before, and avoiding my overdraft would be pleasant as well. I am also keeping track of names and phone numbers in another book, for the inevitable moment when I lose my phone.

That is all for now, but I may add more later if I think of any or if anyone suggests any. In other news for the day, the acquaintance's sister has tracked down my phone number by temporarily stealing her brother's phone. I could have warned him that telling her to keep away from me would not work, but there you go. Moderate levels of flirting ensued but mostly the conversation simply consisted of friendly talking.

The cast-list cleanup will be occuring tomorrow, or tonight if I get back from a meal with Russian early enough.

Back to Normality

Back to work today, always seems slightly unreal after the frenetic activity of the holidays to return to an office where my basic duty is to sit and stare at a screen, while pretending to be doing something productive. That is even what I am doing now, sitting here acting as though I am researching a new system and working on a project proposal rather than typing out a blog entry. I will probably begin to blog more often again now, since the mad rush is over and I should have more time to myself. Of course, Wintereenmas is coming up and I have various preparations to carry out for that, not to mention organising various parties and gatherings.

For those of you who may not know about Wintereenmas, it is a holiday designed to help fill the gap between Christmas and Easter, and is a celebration of all things game-related, whether they be computer games, board games, card games or anything else. LAN parties and gaming nights are traditional seasonal celebrations, and the week of celebration itself is always the last week of January. The rest of January is usually taken up, as with Christmas, in gearing up and preparing for the season. Decorations are made and strung, board games are laid out with care, computers are cleaned and polished and games are installed upon them. Essentially Wintereenmas is an excuse to get together with a whole group of friends, get drunk, and have fun, not necessarily in that order. This year I will be trying to take full advantage of the holiday by gathering as many friends as I can for all forms of gaming.

Going back to the holidays past, things have been hectic to say the least. New Years was a round-the-world affair beginning in Australia at midday, with a barbeque, and working around the world until we reached England. Then of course everyone was pulled from their beds early in the morning for a large American breakfast, involving pancakes, waffles and champagne. I was mixing cocktails for most of the night, and for once was not having to deal with any members of the female persuasion as I decided to deliberately ring this New Year in alone, with just family and friends. It made a nice change to be able to just be myself for a while, and be able to be selfish.

I also decided not to really worry about resolutions, though I have made a decision to improve my style of dress. Any attempt I may have made to quit smoking for New Years was quickly discarded as the huge relief that the first cigarette of the new year granted me quickly discarded any good intentions I may have had.

Appropriate to a New Year, I will be starting the cast list over. It will be wiped clean and only those who are still around this year will be included, but that will be done when I get home from work. Or when I get bored and my boss' back is turned, whichever comes soonest. Other changes or resolutions will be announced as they crystallize in my mind.

Oh, and the acquaintance's sister has been in touch. Apparently she searched through her brother's room in order to find my phone number so that she could text me a New Year message. This must be kept quiet, since supposedly she has been warned to keep away from me and not talk to me. I feel more than a little aggrieved at this sort of treatment. It seems that certain people have absolutely no understanding of human nature.

Philosophy of Life

It is only recently, in fact over this very Christmas period, that I have really come to appreciate the fact that I do indeed have a new outlook on life. My massive well of bitterness, cynicism and anger at the way the world is does indeed still remain but I no longer allow it to interfere with the small pleasures I try to take in everything. I have heard people talk about living in the moment, or living each day as your last, and these philosophies seem to be the closest to the way I now see things but still miss certain aspects that I find essential.

Take wine, a good example. A glass of wine with a meal is something which many people do take some sort of pleasure in, though I suspect the vast majority of people in this day and age simply drink it as many would have once drunk water, milk, or something similar with their meal. To most it seems to be simply something to accompany the meal, nothing in and of itself. To a connoisseur of wine then the wine is possibly the major aspect of the meal, but still they miss something. The wine itself can be savoured and tasted, enjoyed, remembered. The way that the wine may compliment the meal, or not as the case may be, is equally as important and as much pleasure can be taken in that. Each experience can indeed be new, even if it is one you have felt before.

Many times I have walked in the rain, simply out of enjoyment. Today I found myself caught outside without my hat, and I do not yet have an umbrella. Many began to dash for the nearest shelter, hurrying along, suddenly desperate to be elsewhere, out of this meteorological phenomena which they have decided is unpleasant. It was cold, chill throughout and I was near-shivering already, but I did not, and still do not, believe that hurrying to escape this, joining the mad rush for crowded shelter, would in any way benefit my health. Instead I paused for a moment, tilting my head back and letting the rain strike my face, damping my hair and trickling down my neck. The fact that it could be considered a pleasant or unpleasant experience was not something I was interested in at that time. Merely that it was an experience, a sensation that I have experienced before and probably will again but never in quite the same way.

Living in the moment implies an impetuousness. Seize the moment, grab the now, worry nothing for the past or the future, simply live now. I oppose this most strongly. The past makes us who we are, the tragedies and traumas of it combine to become the aspects of our personality. There is nothing to be ashamed of in the past, though I would not relate certain events to various people for reasons that only I need to know, but the past is gone. If you hold on to what is slipping away, you will be trapped by it, but if you let it go completely then you have nothing from before. Have no regrets for what is gone, no matter what it may be. Mourn when appropriate, and then smile and laugh afterwards. There are times when we feel sad and we should indulge ourselves in those moments, but we should not draw them out any longer than we have to.

No more should we artificially try to extend moments of joy and happiness, pleasant though they may be. Our minds themselves know when the moments are past and trying to force them to remain will simply seperate us from the world.

I suppose that is the main point. Do not live in the past. Do not live in the future. Do not live in the present. Live, be, experience. Sorrow, joy, guilt, freedom, hatred, love, pleasure, pain, accept all of them simply for what they are, and neither expect nor try to make them or yourself anything more. Certainly try and change things, advance yourself if you wish, sink if you wish, but do it for yourself rather than because you feel you should. What matters is what you want, what you think is right, not what others tell you or what you feel should be so.

Man-Flu

I have always found this term amazingly insulting, particularly since it was first used of me when I was in my younger years, and shortly after it was used I was diagnosed with pneumonia, hospitalised for a month and effectively bed-ridden for another five after that. That was fun. Hallucinations, respiratory problems whenever I tried to so much as move, and according to various people I was simply suffering from man-flu.

Anyway the reason I am bringing this up now is that I am suffering from flu. I am not suffering from man-flu, where the basic symptoms are of a cold but the apparent suffering is worthy of the black death. In fact soon, as I have been for the last few days of suffering, I will drag myself from my bed, check to see whether my temperature is maintaining its average of 104C, pull on clothes to suit my new look, and make myself be active without complaining. All of the complaining I may have wished to do, but refrained from, the last few days will be occuring in this post.

Each of the last few nights I have spent several hours wrapped up in a thick duvet, with three portable electric heaters blasting huge quantities of heat at me. This is an attempt to feel warm, or at least not cold enough to have chattering teeth and be shivering. My head feels like it has been carefully stuffed with cotton wool, and my nose feels like someone has stuffed corks into it. My throat meanwhile feels like I have deepthroated someone wearing a sandpaper condom. All in all, I do not feel particularly well, and the next person to accuse me of whining or having man-flu will be subjected to a sound verbal, and if I feel up to it physical, thrashing.

So now I need to concentrate on concealing my symptoms, in order to meet Russian to go to the cinema tonight. Should be interesting at least. I still cannot quite figure out whether or not I could push my luck with her and get away with it, and until I do so I am not taking the risk. I should also be visiting Sweetie some time in the next few days, before the New Year, and my moral dilemma has been heightened once again. See, before it was just that I was willing to potentially have some fun with my friend's sister, nothing serious. Now however he has threatened me, trying to scare me off her. I do not take threats well.

Little Sinner Nic

I can tell you all now that Christmas day is a bad time to realise that you have run out of cigarettes, nicotine gum, tobacco and fixings, pipe tobacco, lozenges, inhaler cartridges or any other product which contains nicotine. I have managed to keep a calm head throughout most of the day, right up until the last minute when I had to leave the family meal and walk home, hoping to regain control of my temper and stop the nicotine withdrawal fit which I was suffering from

For anyone who may not understand, do not start smoking, but I feel that I should explain the reason that a nicotine fit can be unpleasant. Nicotine is a sedative, which helps to suppress and calm anxieties. Essentially it is an artificial coping mechanism for times of stress. Unfortunately when this coping mechanism is removed, the anxieties feel much worse, and with the other effects that withdrawal brings the phrase 'I would kill for a cigarette' could easily become literal. My mind still is not quite straight now, even though I managed to acquire a half-pack.

Which brings me to the second part of the story. On the walk home I passed a gaggle of girls or young women, of indeterminate age, chattering and smoking. Passed may be the wrong word. A nicotine fit can massively heighten certain senses, at least I find it can, and from several hundred yards away I tracked the smell of smoke to the group. I then had to think of a way to seperate these people from their nicotine, which took me a few seconds to plan while 'Merry Christmas's' were exchanged, and were replied to with rather drunken hails in response. My cunning plan was then complete, and I requested a cigarette, explaining carefully that my sanity may be at stake and hoping that my rather snappy clothing would help speak for me, not to mention my recently neatened goatee and charming hat.

They did. One of the girls handed me a cigarette, and another asked if I would be alright for the rest of the day. I expressed doubt and, with giggles that I hope were due to alcohol rather than youth, one of the girls offered me the remains of a pack in exchange for a kiss. Now what worries me is that in various films and popular culture cigarettes are prison currency, and essentially I traded sexual favours for a few of them. The sexual favours were extremely limited, and involved no more than a little tongue and a touch of wandering hands, but does this now make me a prison bitch?

Oh, and I got a phone number out of the deal as well. I really need to start printing up business cards. All I need to do now is hope that the girl in question is indeed legal. I suspect that she is, although that may merely be optimism.

Coffee Addiction

I have been spending far too much time in coffee shops recently. Admittedly this time has been spent in very pleasant company. Russian is easy to talk to, squishy in all the right places, wriggly, ticklish, and seems to be completely and utterly disinterested in anything other than friendly flirting, frustatingly enough. Of course I could be misreading, since she does keep asking me to come meet her for coffee or alcohol, usually coffee. Either way, she is pleasant company.

The problem though is that any time I have an excuse to get out of the house at the moment, I pretty much have to take it. If I am at home then I am expected to do various different chores, fix computers, clean, cook, help wrap things, decorate, plan, make phone calls and so on. So I get out of the house a lot.

When I say a lot, I have so far this week been out for five cups of coffee with Russian and met her for drinks in the evening twice. The fact that she is a lot nearer to me than most of the Cast is convenient, though her apparent lack of interest is rather less useful.

The main point though is that I believe I have regained my caffeine addiction, not something I particularly wanted. On the other hand there is very little I would not do for possession of this coffee machine.

Christmas Shopping

A large portion of my Christmas shopping is now done, certainly all of the family presents have been bought, wrapped, and put under the tree. They would have been anyway, if we had put the tree up yet. Decorating is almost always left to the last minute, or possibly even later, here so with luck the tree will be erected by Christmas Eve. Just do not expect my own Scroogey self to take part in the decorating of it, or any other part of the house. It is not that I do not like decorations, or Christmas, it is just that I find all of the tacky, glittery decorations so gaudy and overstated.

Were decorating to be left to me alone then it would consist of muted greens and reds, mainly in the form of holly and berries with a few pieces of mistletoe, place near doorways, windows and fireplaces. The rest would be candles scattered around carefully, lit in the evenings to try and chase away that cloying wintery darkness, so different from the crushing humid heat of summer, or its clear, fresh airiness if you happen to get lucky. Winter darkness is sweet-tasting, chill and close to the skin.

Anyway I have drifted away from the title of this post. The main point was to try and defend myself as not a Grinch-type character, despite what people at work may think. I do not dislike Christmas, I simply think it is overdone. As proof of this I offer my love of Christmas shopping. I delight in shouldering my way through crowds of cramped, irritable shoppers all searching for that one perfect present. I love the press of people, despite the mild claustrophobia it triggers in me, the sheer chaos of the shops so close to the big event itself. The gaudy decorations never look quite so bad in scale with much larger buildings than those they are usually put in, and the pitiful attempts at Christmas lights by the town council always amuse me.

Once the chaos has been fought and defeated, along with a trip to the supermarket to buy myself a bottle of wine for when I return home in an attempt to drown the adrenaline, the wrapping must be done. Massively overpriced decorated paper where brown parcel paper would make do must be tightly sealed around each gift, hiding the contents from prying eyes and fingers of the receiver as they sit under the tree, teasing with their presence but giving away nothing.

Yes, I enjoy Christmas, I just do not enjoy the overblown build-up to it.

Sanity Break

I decided to take tonight as a sanity break, resting quietly in the pub with my iPod, a book, and several pints of cider to simply calm down for a while. Life has been so hectic recently that I have had no chance to just relax. My main decision through this has been that I will no longer struggle and try to force myself into trying to write a blog post each and every day. I will still be trying, but if nothing comes to mind then I will simply give up, and instead back-date an entry when one comes to mind.

Tomorrow I am working again, oh joy of joys, and plan to spend most of my time sitting in the office simply writing a short story for Saturday, or several Saturdays. I have quite a few hours to waste after all. Also, I have discovered a new grooming product, sort of, I have a mild fear that I may be turning into a metrosexual but I sincerely look forwards to my weekly salt-scrub now. Still undecided whether to stick with a goatee, or go for a plain beard.

Feel free to vote either way, but any beard will be short. If you really want to make a comparison then let me know via e-mail and I will send you pictures as necessary.

Moral Dilemma - Solved

So maybe not exactly solved, but I have come to the conclusion that she is simply too cute and sweet-smelling to pass up. Besides all of that she is aware of my reputation, so it is hardly likely that there will be any serious drama with her. As to her brother, while he is a pleasant enough fellow I would not honestly count him as a friend. An acquaintance, maybe. Pleasant company, most definitely.

Maybe I am simply addicted to drama. I certainly feel more alive when events are in turmoil and chaos around me. No matter how much trouble or trauma it may cause, I much prefer living when things are uncertain than when I know exactly what is going on. People are simply too predictable to make life fun when they react rationally to things.

A Moral Dilemma

Yes, occasionally I do hesitate because of morals, the few I have left. Essentially the sister of an acquaintance, not someone I have known long enough to really call a friend, is throwing herself at me. This is not a figure of speech, it is quite literal and was occuring while I was with said acquaintance and a few others drinking quietly in the pub. It was commented on by a few of the people present that it was happening, telling me that it was not a figment of my imagination.

Then again if my imagination can force me to hallucinate being jumped and having kisses pressed upon me when the sister of said acquaintance was leaving it is a lot more powerful than I thought. Now the lass is a little young, though still of legal age as evidenced by her presence in a public house of drinking, but the main problem here is the supposed unwritten rule that you do not sleep with your friend's families.

Personally I have never understood this rule, and still do not. Sure it can complicate things but frankly I do not see that it would bother me any more than a complete stranger with whom I share no common ground sleeping with my sister. In point of fact I strongly suspect it would bother me a lot less. It is not that I am planning to drag off the poor young girl and screw her the first chance I get, or at all really, but as I have said before I do find it difficult to say no, particularly to members of the female species with curvy bits in the right places, dirty smiles, and sulky eyes.

Before anyone asks she has been warned about my by various members of my group of friends, which I suspect is half of what has caused the dilemma to arise. Telling a young woman that a certain person is dangerous and sleeps around far too much is possibly not the best way to put their interest off them. Anyway, I will probably be seeing this girl again soon at the next gathering of my friends and am uncertain how to respond. I do not think being unnaturally unfriendly in order to try and discourage her is an option, as simply put I would feel guilty for that. I suspect I will end up being my usual self and simply flirting and joking as much as I usually would. All I can hope is that her brother does not challenge me to a duel in her honour.

Visiting Sweetie

Last night I paid a pleasant visit to Sweetie for a few hours. A very pleasant visit. I apologise if this post is a little erratic but I am somewhat sleep deprived due to not returning home until four o'clock this morning and dragging myself straight to bed, eager to get away from the frost and chill in the air and into warmth and, more importantly, sleep.

Sweetie demonstrated a little more of herself than I am used to from her last night, not that I am complaining. I arrived at her flat only to find myself slammed up against the wall and being rapidly stripped, losing several buttons in the process as her hands tore at my clothes. Still slightly winded I was grabbed again, pushed down to the floor, straddled and pinned while she rode me until she orgasmed and collapsed on top of me, grinning.

I decided at this point to get a little revenge, shoving her off me, grabbing her hair and pulling her into the sitting room. Pushing her face-down over a sofa, her knees on the floor I proceeded to thoroughly fuck her until she, and I, came again, pulling free of her and spraying cum over her arse.

Over the next few hours there was a lot more sex, less rough than that first session but somewhat messier. Paint-on icing was involved for a little while, and provided a good deal of entertainment, before finally we dragged our bruised, aching bodies into the shower to carefully wash one another down and letting me leave for home.

Being Poor

A certain Rabbit Gone Wrong has inspired this post, or rather her reporting of comments by her soon-to-be ex-husband. I have met people similar to this man, at least with the personality aspect she has described today, where they are poor simply because they do not have the latest sports car, a couple of extra mansions, private jets, stocks and shares meaning they never have to work again and so on. People using this as a definition of poverty is one of the things that irritates me. Now I know that I have not experienced the type of poverty that strikes in less priviliged countries than my own, but even I have more idea about what being poor really means than this guy.

I only have somewhere to live and eat now through the grace and generosity of my parents. I work part time, because I lack the qualifications to get a better job full time and have too much experience to get a worse job full time. The only way I got this job was by calling in some very old favours, and while I used to have a lot of those owed to me I am rapidly running out. This is not what I would consider poverty by any stretch, I am earning money, in a pinch I could afford to rent a room in a boarding house and eat one meal of rice a day, possibly with a little meat once and twice a week. I would manage to survive.

I only suffered what I would consider true poverty for two weeks. I had lost my house, this was back when I had one, and I had lost my job. What I had left was a car, which I had no petrol for and which got impounded due to my inability to pay for insurance, tax, petrol or parking permit. Other than that I had a good quality coat, seventy-two pence, and a set of good sturdy clothes. That seventy-two pence and a lot of fast-talking purchased me a couple of McDonald's burgers on the first day I was homeless, and then I had nothing.

For two weeks, because I was too proud to call some friends and admit I had failed miserably to support myself as I was meant to, I practically starved. I would beg and grovel for people to give me some money so that I could get food, dying of shame the whole time. I discovered after the first week why it seems that so many homeless people drink. It just gives you the ability to debase yourself to such a level that you can bring yourself to beg, at least that was how I found it. Most of my money from then went on drink, cheap supermarket brandy was a favourite since it was cheap, and warming. Never let anyone tell you sleeping on a bench is comfortable. It is not.

And then at the end of those two weeks I was rescued. One of those friends I had refused to call found me, talked me into going back with them, got me cleaned up, a change of clothes, and forced upon me enough money to get my car back and on the road, and enough petrol to get home. He also forced me to call my parents and explain what had happened, which was probably the hardest thing I have ever done.

So, next time you hear a couple of people in designer clothes, or driving a car, or just walking through town shopping complaining that they are poor just laugh at them. They honestly have no idea.

Scents and Tastes

I think I have finally discovered what it is about certain people that pushes my buttons, while others just do not do anything. It is nothing to do with looks, although anyone with my interest has to be healthy and not unnattractive. It even has very little to do with personality. Some of it may be to do with voices, but that is open to debate. I do appreciate good looks, by my own variable standards, but more in the same way that I enjoy a nice view or in some cases a good, dramatic storm.

Nope, the secret way to turn me into a stuttering, drooling mass seems to be scent. I am not talking about perfume, though I do enjoy that, its the genuine scent of a person that hits me. That soft, sweet scent that some people have sitting under their perfume. Some people smell good, some people do not, it is as simple as that. Some scents just jump straight from my nose to my brain and switch off all of the higher reasoning abilities.

That might be an exaggeration, a better way to describe it might be to say that someone with the right scent switches my priorities around from being my usual rather heartless self to being quite solidly in lust. Not love, love is a very different concept for me and requires very different triggers but lust can definitely be triggered with relative ease.

Some perfume can fake it, but usually I actually need the genuine scent of a person. The only exception I have found to this so far is Ghost, and every now and then I treat myself to some of the male version. I will not wear it often, but if I am going out to relax and enjoy myself in the evening then I will, more for me than for anyone else who might enjoy it.

I am going to try and spend a lot more time paying attention to, and indulging my senses over the Christmas holidays and next year. I feel that I have been neglecting some of them.

Russian

Now this is a strange little novelty. I do believe that I am being actively pursued by someone attempting to draw me in to a classic dating pattern. Of course I could be mistaken, and their various invites out may in fact be simple, friendly overtures, which does not explain why they are always arranged to be just the two of us and seem to involve a lot of attempted tickling. Normally by now I would have someone nicely categorized either as a potential conquest, or just a friend, but here I am not quite sure.

The problem is Russian seems to be just far, far too sweet to be my type, and especially to be interested in me. I have a great time whenever we meet up chatting and flirting but to be honest its not really any different from any friend I meet up with in private. Obviously this is apart from the fact that she does look very good in a figure-hugging backless shirt which it was far too cold to wear as sensible clothing. And I suppose it is also apart from the fact that she has soft, smooth, pale skin, long, flexible legs rising up to a perfect arse and narrow waist, with generous breasts for her size and little, pouty lips.

Okay, so given the opportunity the friends thing most likely would not work, but I have already explained about my situation and my various relationships. It seems to have made no difference. I suppose failing anything else I can ask her to start teaching me Russian. I suspect my repertoire of jokes about Communism and the Mafia will not be a good topic of discussion next time we meet though.

Interestingly she also seems to be completely non-existent on the internet. I cannot find a trace of her. I know, or suspect the reason for this, but it is rather strange all the same. Another thought has just struck me. Over time I have discovered that people of different races, and sometimes nationalities, have different tastes to them. In the spirit of scientific enquiry I believe I will have to find out what Russian tastes of.


I am also suffering jealousy over someone at the moment, rather a novel feeling. Mystery is seeing someone at the moment. Normally I have no trouble with someone in whom I have an interest spending time with someone else, but oddly enough this time it is upsetting me somewhat. I blame it on the bad weather at the moment.

Letter to the Past

With the workload that my job has put upon me at the moment, as well as Christmas and family demands my letter-writing has been sadly neglected, so much of this weekend will hopefully be dedicated to rectifying this lapse in literary diligence. On a related topic, this meme which has been recently travelling around, appearing wherever I might see, of people writing a letter to their teenage selves has stimulated my interest until I have finally decided to submit and create my own contribution.

Dear Rabbit,

Hear me out, because I know that name will mean nothing to you at the moment. You will have no idea how you, or we, will acquire it or how much it will come to mean to you. You have no idea how cynically you will come to regard it, even as you treasure and prize it as the core of your still-developing identity. Enough about your little prized nickname however, that is something you will have to discover on your own. There are other things I do want to tell you though, even if it will mean you avoid them and never learn some of the things I have.

First of all those people at school, the ones you hate and despise, and are convinced will never amount to anything. The ones that you have never let a single tear fall for, and vowed that you never will? Well, you managed it. No crying. Apparently you are nearly physically incapable of it. You never let them see anything, and that is where you screwed up on this one. It becomes so ingrained into you to hide what you are feeling that you keep doing it. Lies, deception, masking, shielding, it all becomes part of your life.

In a couple of years you will fall in love for the first time, or something close to it, and then have your heart broken. You will tell no one of this, no one will have the slightest clue what has happened except for the friends who knew you both, and them you will simply avoid. It will also be your first encounter with death. Avoid all of this. Avoid the scars it will bring you, all of them, from a handful on your arms to a mark down the centre of your tongue which is with you years later. Avoid the lot. Do not, ever, talk to a dark-haired girl that you might meet on the train. Never. Just do not do it.

A year after that you will finally escape from the hell that school has gradually been becoming, and move on to college. A few weeks later you will leave your first college having been caught accidentally by a bullet, fortunately little more than a graze, and move to a new college a short time afterwards. Avoid that, being shot hurts. Do not go to a different college simply because people from your school are not going there, the people who tormented you at school will do so anyway until certain things change, and that comes in a few months. Just go to a college where you will not be shot, and may at least have a handful of people who will talk to you.

There is no need to go into what finally happens with your tormentors, though you do not need to be quite as harsh with the first one who comes after you. That was a close call with the police, and you were nearly jailed for excessive force. You do not want to be jailed, and having something like that on your record would mess up a lot of future plans. Be careful. Stop hitting when he is down. Leave it at that. It may save you some trouble with the others as well.

Fortunately after a few more encounters like that they will start to leave you alone, though admittedly you will have added a few more scars to your collection, and ruined a perfectly good coat into the bargain. You will also begin to find it harder to concentrate on your college work, and difficult to see a point in any of it. Stick with it, and actually go to classes. You will pass anyway, as you suspect, but not quite with the marks you were hoping for.

Do not, and I cannot emphasize this enough, go with your supposed friend to meet another friend of his from the airport. She is nothing but trouble. Do not meet her. Do not speak with her. Do not date her. Do not marry her. Leave her be. You want nothing to do with her at all. The only good thing that comes out of ever having met her is your wedding ring, and she steals that when you throw her out. Just buy yourself a red gold ring instead. Marriage is not a good idea.

Once you have struggled through college you will find yourself, suprisingly, accepted into university. This is where everything pays off, all that karma owed to you comes back two-fold, maybe more. Within the first two weeks you will have discovered that relationships do not need to be painful, or even particularly romantic. There are some very friendly girls who you will be living with, and so long as you keep up your end of the bargain that is proposed at the beginning of the year, so will they. Just do not try and have sex with the blonde one, she is very dedicated to her boyfriend, no matter how affectionate and flirty she may be. The two shorter ones are fair game and will be joining you in bed shortly anyway, and there will be plenty of general physical comfort and affection in the house.

At some point in this year someone will introduce you to a hobby called live-action roleplaying. When you go to your first event do not drink that nice guy's bottle of creme de menthe. If you do you will struggle for a long time to suppress a phobia of being touched by anyone male, and for good reason. If you do, then the morning afterwards you will have to go to hospital. The hospital will tell you you have been drugged. You will keep the whole thing quiet for years, too frightened and ashamed to tell anyone and feeling sick any time anyone male so much as shakes your hand.

Oh, a year and nine months later you will discover that you have been part of what could be a bad sitcom plot. Those two, you know the ones, are actually switching around on you. You will discover this when you encounter them both at once. Enjoy it, it will only last a few months but you can get free drinks with those stories for years. Learn to co-ordinate yourself carefully though, otherwise you will just get confused.

I would love to recommend that you do not leave university the first time, and maybe if you have not married then you will not have to, but it may also be that university is not for you. Look into psychology and save yourself a few years of desperately trying to find yourself, meaningless or meaningful relationships, struggling to make ends meet, always falling slightly below expectations and constantly feeling yourself as a dissappointment. Computing is definitely not your field, as you have always suspected, but without a degree you are most likely to end up stuck in it anyway.

Save money, enjoy life, avoid the biggest mistakes I have warned you about if you can but throw yourself into the little ones. You will come to realise that little screw-ups are almost as enjoyable as getting things right. Try not to let your school years destroy all of your confidence, it will save you time in building it up again later, something I have still not managed, your veneer of arrogance will come in useful though so practice that. Do not start smoking, and when driving stay well away from anyone in a business suit and a BMW.

Have fun,
Mr R Rabbit

So there you go. Interesting exercise. I am not quite sure whether I feel better, worse, no different or anything else. It is done now though.

Decoder Ring Theatre

I adore pulp fiction. Not the film, though that is good as well, but old classical adventure, hard-boiled adventurers and tough Canadian superheroes, and some time ago I discovered it free on the internet. This is a plug, though it is one which I am choosing to do rather than having been asked or paid for it. I just want to thank the people who make these podcast plays for the sanity breaks and such they have given me at work, or while on long drives.

So here is to the people at Decoder Ring Theatre and congratulations to them all. Because of them I get to escape off into hard-boiled detective stories and fantastical superhero tales during my breaks at work.

Drifting off-topic slightly, though maybe not so much given the powers of the Red Panda, my quest to learn hypnotism and all of the other little tricks of the human mind has been renewed once again. I watched Derren Brown's "The Heist" tonight, finishing only a short while ago, and with my psychological studies resuming once again next year, including hopefully a specialist course in grief counselling, and another in hypnotherapy, I hope soon to be able to do more than simply understand how what he is doing works.