A Journal Of Little Consequence Based on a true story.

Sunday, August 31, 2003   If you're going to skive off work, do it properly. I walked to the foot of the local hill, where I discovered that off the beaten path, and beyond some thorns lay a large dried-up pond surrounded by rushes. There was just enough room for me to lie down by the pond amongst the tall grass and stinging leaves. The ground was not very comfortable, and the nearby business park was still just in sight, with the low roar of traffic in the background. Still, I felt immensely at peace as I stared straight up, or more accurately, out at the clouded sky, and lay there for quite some time, sure that no one would disturb my reverie in this relatively secluded place. Reclining thus, I telephoned Z., and had a short, pleasant conversation with her, which was in contrast to my somewhat strained recent encounters with her. My soporific state probably helped. Teetering on the edge of sleep like this, with slowed speech but sharp mind, the result of extreme relaxation rather than fatigue, does seem to ease social relations. posted by grover | Sunday, August 31, 2003   (Saturday's entry) The condiments accompanying my lunch included: onion relish, American mustard, Caesar dressing, mayonnaise and salsa. Intending not to turn up the next day for work, I decided to do the entire weekend's work today, believing that the single job I had been assigned for Sunday would not take me very long to do. I was wrong in this assumption, and ended up essentially doing two shifts in a row, finshing after midnight. As I expected, J. called, and we hung around my workplace until the small hours. Judging by the warmth of her greeting when she saw me, I deduced that she had had some drinks, which I inquired about in what I thought was a nonchalant manner. However, the purpose of my question was immediately seen through. Later, I did not hide my agenda when asking J. why she had chosen to sit so far away from me. After we had adopted a more satisfactory seating arrangement, the discussion turned to the subject of the changing seasons, which had been weighing on my mind since the day before. J. agreed that lusty feelings tended to rise up with the onset of summer, which I theorised was useful for finding a partner to keep one warm during the winter months. I had noticed that pangs of loneliness and a feeling of missing people, for example, J., had appeared just as my libido had decreased with the end of summer. These were things that I thought I had excised from my life, as certain events and revelations had changed my attitude towards them, coincidentally during and at the end of the previous winter. Now I realised that seasonal conditions may have been a factor in the judgements I had made at that time. Having felt terribly independent, I am now aware of the desire to be close to others. However, this is tempered by the knowledge that this desire is not a need. With J. reclining on a sofa with her head against my abdomen, I heard someone enter the building and walk about, surely the security person (which turned out to be the case). I mentioned this to J., and, probably sensing my discomfort, she asked if she should sit up, to which I replied yes, it might look better. In retrospect, this assertion seems to make very little sense. posted by grover | Sunday, August 31, 2003 Friday, August 29, 2003   The first day of winter. Not officially, of course. We haven't even had autumn yet. However, twice each year, a shift occurs in my very being, between what I think of as my summer and winter "modes". Even though the temperature was fair and the sun shone down, I could feel it in my bones. I'm not sure what it is; perhaps the quality of the light, or the shortening days. I loathe it. As we sipped herbal teas outside a cafe, B. said he found something comforting and familiar about the burgeoning greyness, yet I know that he also suffers through the winter. A colleague mentioned that he had had lunch with J., and passed on her greetings. As he started telling me about this, I suddenly felt upset. What was wrong with me? Was it jealousy? I think so, but there was something else too, something to do with this winter feeling. I had already been thinking about J. earlier in the day, and how much I wanted to see her. I had intended to call her, but for some reason I felt that this had been pre-empted by her meeting with my colleague. I now expected her to call me. To finally confirm that the season of discontent had begun, I was given the job of watching one of the most truly diabolical films that I have seen. It is called "Legally Blonde 2". It must be avoided at all costs. Seen in the summer, I believe that it could seriously shake one's faith in humanity. In the winter, the consequences of viewing it could be lethal. posted by grover | Friday, August 29, 2003 Thursday, August 28, 2003   I have always lived in houses with net curtains, and drawn the main curtains when the lights are on, preventing anyone from seeing in. I rather like the idea of not having net curtains, which would give me a clear view of the outside world. However, being tremendously middle-class, I would feel rather self-conscious about being seen by people passing by. I wonder how I can feel more comfortable with myself. It could help in many ways; perhaps I might even be able to dance in public. posted by grover | Thursday, August 28, 2003 Wednesday, August 27, 2003   I feel that the return of a prominent cowlick is imminent, having had my hair cut by someone with a limited understanding of English. The manifesto of this diary is changing. The idea behind it when it started was to find something about each day that was either thought-provoking or amusing, in order to give the lie to the notion that "real life" is dull. I believe I have managed to achieve this over the last five months. However, whilst I can indeed always find food for thought in each day, the thoughts themselves are not always new, and as time passes, I am in increasing danger of repeating myself. I shall therefore no longer strictly adhere to using an event that has occurred in the day just gone by as the basis for what I write. posted by grover | Wednesday, August 27, 2003 Tuesday, August 26, 2003   A new employee at my workplace came across to me as being rather brash. Despite the temptation to be moderate and considered, and think of this snap judgement as premature, I shall trust my instincts as being valid. However, I shall try not to let this impression prejudice me against him, but merely use it to guide my interactions with him. I spoke for the first time to a quiet colleague, who proceeded to pour his heart out to me about his insecurities. I am unsure as to whether or not this is a good thing. On the one hand, I am quite flattered that he felt able to talk to me about such personal things. On the other, I am a little concerned that he is allowing these negative feelings to take over his life. If he subjects everyone he comes across to such a barrage, he is liable to turn them off, something that I myself have been prone to do in the past. In my continuing quest to appear to women as a no-nonsense, tough-talking, diamond-in-the-rough kind of guy, I warned a female colleague that I was "mean", and that since we worked together, she should be aware of this fact. She looked at me in disbelief. "No you're not," she insisted, "You're nice." Curses. posted by grover | Tuesday, August 26, 2003 Monday, August 25, 2003   J.(a) told me over the telephone that he was engaged to be married to a woman he had been seeing for a month before he proposed to her. I was rather taken aback by this piece of news, especially considering that he had only recently separated from his girlfriend of ten years, to whom he was also engaged, so much so that I completely forgot to congratulate him. posted by grover | Monday, August 25, 2003 Sunday, August 24, 2003   I decided to visit the coast, having not seen the sea at close quarters for many years. It really didn't take very long to get there. Despite my deep inhalations, I was unable to detect the scent of "sea air" that I have always associated with the ocean. I last smelled it when by the river, only a short while ago, so it wasn't as if my senses had been dulled by age. I suspect that what I have in the past taken to be a fresh sea breeze may actually have been the faint whiff of polluted waters, as I have heard that this country's beaches have become significantly cleaner during the past few years. Walking along the sea front at dusk, I was gratified to look up and see the shadow of the earth cast on the clear sky, a sight I have frequently looked for, but which has usually been obscured by a band of cloud separating night from day. posted by grover | Sunday, August 24, 2003 Saturday, August 23, 2003   Standing in the gallery of a concert hall, I let the sounds of the orchestra wash over me. I would never listen to this type of music at home, and I instantly forgot the compositions I had heard, but there is something special about a live performance in comparison to recorded music. It's as much about experiencing the moment as it is about the music itself. I am quite afraid of heights, and the loftiness of my position in the hall only added to the stimulation my senses were receiving as I looked into the expansive space below me with only a waist-high railing to hold me back from falling. A fluttering motion rippled throughout the audience as a large number of them fanned themselves in the summer heat. As the performance drew to a close, the heel of my cousin's shoe broke off, and she had to make the journey home in her stockinged feet; fortunately, it was a dry night. People stared. Perhaps they thought it was a fashion statement. posted by grover | Saturday, August 23, 2003 Friday, August 22, 2003   As usual, I remained in my seat in the cinema as the end credits rolled, in the hope of an extra scene at the end, with which I was duly rewarded. By this time, of course, the auditorium was almost empty. Most viewers do not have the patience to sit through the credits, and I have often been dragged away prematurely when in a group. Still, I can see why people leave when the final shot of the film has faded to black. I myself never remember any of the names I read, and I wonder whom it benefits to have such an extensive list of who worked on the film, down to individual caterers and drivers. In retrospect, I wish I had not stayed for the credits of the last film I saw before today that had them. They were in Japanese, so I was unable to appreciate the wide range of disciplines employed in the making of the film. Also, I believe that it resulted in a longueur for my attractive companion, which rather knocked a kink in the flow of our time together, as did my being so moved by the film itself that I had to hold back my tears, and was in no mood to be charming afterwards. For future reference: no sad movies when with a prospective bedfellow, and when those end titles appear, run. Run like the wind. posted by grover | Friday, August 22, 2003   (Thursday night's entry) I found myself having finished all my work eight hours before I was due to finish my shift, but unable to actually go home, as one person from my department has to remain until the end the shift. I spent some of this time talking to a colleague with whom I was not very well acquainted. He described to me how he often came into work on his days off in order to learn more skills, and indeed his progress has been admirable. I, on the other hand, have been doing more or less the same job for many years. I could see from my colleague's example that diligence and enthusiasm were key in moving on. Inspired, I found a suitable sofa and went to sleep. posted by grover | Friday, August 22, 2003   (Wednesday night's entry) I have noticed that many people my age like music originating from a time when we ourselves would have been too young, or indeed too non-existent to appreciate it. I quizzed my colleagues about this, and my susipicions were confirmed: they had been exposed to this music by people from the preceding generation, parents or uncles and aunts. The cultural exposure I received in my own home as I was growing up consisted mainly of "world" or "arthouse" cinema, which is reflected in my taste in films today. However, music was barely present in the household, which might help to explain the rift between my own musical preferences and most of the people I know, particularly with regard to those tunes that were in the hit parade during my parents' youth. I have found that, because music appeals so directly to the emotions, people tend to have an immediate reaction when you mention the subject. Having grown somewhat sensitive to this, I have for years kept quiet about the less fashionable musicians that I listen to, for fear of ridicule. Well, no more. I'm coming out of the low street-credibility closet. posted by grover | Friday, August 22, 2003 Wednesday, August 20, 2003   (Tuesday night's entry) M.(a), whom I have decided I would not like to have physical relations with after all, embraced me tightly when I arrived at work, our respective shifts ending and beginning. I managed to refrain from my usual tendency to pat or rub her on the back as she did so, a sure sign of insincerity (or, in my case, insecurity) when hugging, and something that I have been pulled up on. She went on to enthuse about the things she wanted to do when we next met socially, and kissed me on the cheek when she left. I reflected on how M.(a)'s behaviour had not really been surprising to me, as compared to the outright astonishment with which I responded less than a year ago to similar kinds of attention from J. I guess this is progress, I thought, as I popped a smoked-salmon-covered blini into another female colleague's mouth. As a man, it's normal, even right, for me to incorporate my sexuality into my interactions with women. I wouldn't have thought this possible during my decades in the wilderness, and I still struggle with the idea at times. It is still a source of puzzlement to me as to how I manage to engender appeal in others, especially women. Less of a conundrum is how I subsequently manage to blow attempts to capitalise on this once I become aware of it, as that is an area I am a past master of. I have already ascertained that thinking too much, or in the wrong way, is part of the problem. It may be useful to cultivate an expectation that events will unfold as they should (whatever that means), and to go with the flow. This may help to preclude overanalysis. It also needs to be handled in a healthy manner that does not involve an unrealistic sense of entitlement and the resulting disappointment when things do not go your way. In any case, I have a long way to go yet before I have adjusted my reality to be in line with that of the world at large, as I am still functioning well below the threshold of normality, certainly when it comes to matters of the groin. Not that normalisation is my aim; if you are going to make a conscious decision to progress, you may as well do so to an optimal level. posted by grover | Wednesday, August 20, 2003 Tuesday, August 19, 2003   (Monday night's entry) With slight chagrin, I eavesdropped on two of my colleagues enthusiastically discussing the large party that had taken place over the weekend to celebrate one of their birthdays. Why hadn't I been asked to attend, I thought to myself, those old feelings of alienation starting to reappear. Shortly, I discovered that in fact I had been invited, but I had not been listening properly at the time. I shall work to hone my perceptive skills, otherwise my capacity to inadvertantly miss out on parties will soon catch up with my ability to avoid sex. Of course, the other thing that needs improvement is the tendency for insecurities to rear their heads in situations like the one above; I would like to be in a position where it doesn't bother me if I am not included in everything, as it is a rather unrealistic expectation. posted by grover | Tuesday, August 19, 2003 Sunday, August 17, 2003   With two important meetings scheduled for the next day, I awaited word from D. regarding the details. I resisted the urge to call her myself, as she had agreed to contact me. I didn't want to set a precedent whereby I would constantly be chasing her up, as has often been the case when undertaking projects in the past. This always happens to me, I thought, irritated. Why can't people just do what they say they are going to do? As the night fell, I felt that I had waited long enough, and called D. Despite my somewhat indignant mood, I decided to remain calm, and prepared a possible line of conversation. As it turned out, D. had not contacted me due to what sounded like a family emergency (she did not give me the details). Whilst I still feel that she could still have called to tell me that the plans had changed, I understand that her mind may have been elsewhere. Had I gone in firing on all cylinders, I would have felt quite foolish to discover her reason for not getting in touch, something that has happened numerous times when I have jumped to conclusions without all the facts. As I once read, it may be better in cases like this to strike while the iron is cool. posted by grover | Sunday, August 17, 2003 Saturday, August 16, 2003   As I walked along the street, a cat stared at me from from its curled up position on a wall. A few metres further on, I fancied that I saw the same cat eyeing me from a driveway. How could this be? I looked back, and saw what appeared to be two identical cats. This being a rather unlikely coincidence, an alternative explanation is that a single cat was teleporting back and forth between the two locations at great speed, thus giving the illusion, via persistence of vision, that it was in two places at once, the wily feline. posted by grover | Saturday, August 16, 2003   (Friday's entry) A gathering to mark D.'s last day at her workplace allowed me to see several former colleagues of mine, all of whom I had always thought of as rather standoffish, in a different light, with the amount of alcohol they had consumed being a possible contributing factor. In fact, it was the first time that I had really had conversations with two of them, something I pointed out to one of them. I told her that I had tried to be friendly, but that she had been unresponsive, something she denied. Previously, M. had told me that she was good company, which I had refused to believe. Against the weight of this evidence, I can see that my prejudices were filtering my perceptions. Not for the first time, I was completely unaware of this until after the fact, having total faith in my biased point of view. I have made some progress in identifying distorted thinking patterns that have caused me acute problems in the past, but in cases like this it doesn't make a great deal of immediate difference whether or not the way my perceptions are accurate or overly negative. Nonetheless, it would be still be beneficial, particularly in the long run, to modify even these relatively small errors of judgement, so I shall take more care to look out for indicators that a shift in perspective may be in order. D. read my palm, something that I would not usually allow, having no truck with such superstitious follies on an intellectual level. However, I was curious to see what she would come up with, and I did have an emotional reaction to the results, believing in them even whilst knowing them to be nonsense. Perhaps I am just highly suggestible when it comes to the subjects with which these kinds of practices are concerned. In any case, the prognosis was not particularly good. I thought this kind of thing was supposed to be fun? Someone noted my concern, and pointed out that these kinds of prophecies only manifest themselves if you buy into them. Taking on board his opinion will be a good exercise in modifying my beliefs. posted by grover | Saturday, August 16, 2003 Thursday, August 14, 2003   I realised that I had more or less managed to stick to my decision to not telephone Z. for a month, although I did fall short by a few days. I had not intended to speak to her today, but she answered the telephone when I was trying to get hold of someone else. Not getting in touch with people for extended periods has long been a special skill of mine, and in retrospect I think a month was excessive, especially if the intention was to induce Z. to miss me. There comes a point when you cease to miss someone, and they are consigned to history in your mind. I remember when I used to miss J. even during lunch breaks away from her. That was when we worked together five days a week, and barely a weekend passed when we would not speak on the telephone. Now that we no longer work at the same place, a month can easily go by with almost no contact. Later on, after I had made a few jokes at Z.'s expense in person, she said that I was being "bitchy". This is something that J. has often said about me in a similar context, but I had always brushed it aside as being one of her idiosynchrasies. I now see where she was coming from. My judgement on these matters could do with some retuning, as bitchiness was definitely not the effect that I had been aiming for. My intention had been to come across as teasing rather than mean. When I deliver comments with heartfelt flippancy, they work very well, but it is when I actually strive for an outcome that I fall foul. Greater effort does not necessarily bring proportionally greater results; the opposite is often the case. posted by grover | Thursday, August 14, 2003 Wednesday, August 13, 2003   Hankering after the authentic outdoors taste of barbecued food, I bought a roasted vegetable sandwich from a supermarket. Biting into it, I realised my error: I should have been looking for chargrilled vegetables. Browsing cufflinks in a shop, I saw a pair that were in the form of tiny, working egg timers. Other designs included a diminutive version of the kind of diagram found on the top of car gearsticks and a stylised representation of a golfer about to take a swing. Is this really what men are supposed to find appealing? I certainly don't conform to this stereotype, and I shall continue my search for a pair I like. Little rugby balls perhaps, and nothing says "style" more than miniature glasses of beer. posted by grover | Wednesday, August 13, 2003 Tuesday, August 12, 2003   I encountered a situation where I felt it was important to enter a confrontation to stand up for what I felt was right. Although I carried off the encounter well, I felt shaken afterwards. This made me realise how unused I was to explicitly positing myself as "right" as opposed to another who was "wrong". However, I have never had any trouble with the inverse of that scenario. I have on a number of occasions been called stubborn and argumentative, but this was always in reference to quite minor matters. When more is at stake, I tend to back away and abstain, or talk in a rather abstract way about there being more than one side to any story. I believe that I may have been using such principles as an excuse to avoid asserting myself, which is really due to personal insecurities rather than the rational consideration that I have been telling myself is the basis for the moderation of my responses to many situations. Whilst I intend to retain, even cultivate my sense of multiple perspectives, this experience has prompted me to reconsider the value of balancing this with taking a definite stance, particularly with practical issues. posted by grover | Tuesday, August 12, 2003 Monday, August 11, 2003   I trudged around the local shops searching for an electric fan, an item currently in high demand due to the soaring temperatures. I found one, but sadly it was not available for purchase. In my modern, urban existence, this may be the closest I get to running towards an oasis in the desert only to find it is a mirage. posted by grover | Monday, August 11, 2003 Sunday, August 10, 2003   As we sat on logs at the lower reaches of a hill watching the sun set, I fooled my cousin into thinking that a long stalk of grass I had picked was an insect landing on her shoulder, causing her much fright, and myself an equal amount of delight. I was puzzled, though; she professed to be afraid of creepy-crawlies, yet she had in the past kept a huge spider in a box as a pet. She explained that having such a creature as a pet was different. Later, she told me how she does not particularly like one of her friends, with whom she spends a considerable amount of time. I know what she means; a number of my friends are not the kinds of people I would in theory consider spending time with. A spider may be a repulsive thing, but if it's yours, you care for it anyway. posted by grover | Sunday, August 10, 2003 Saturday, August 09, 2003   How I was looking forward to meeting with J. What a great kid, I thought, I'll give her a big hug when I see her. My heart sank somewhat when I saw her, however. She was in one of her "moods". After a period of awkwardness, during which I considered ditching her, I managed to coax her out of her sulk. J.'s tactile nature came up in the conversation. I mentally noted that she was sitting as far away from me as it was possible to and still remain within conversational earshot. This is usually the case these days, whereas once upon a time I used to receive more affection from her than I could handle. Back then, we used to talk about our feelings, and express how much we thought of one another. Now, our exchanges largely consist of me twisting her words in order to reflect them back at her in the form of insults, which developed from a phase I went through of trying to actively alienate her. That passed, but I never quite reverted to being the sensitive male friend always willing to lend a sympathetic ear. She seems to be drawn to that type, and whilst I occasionally miss the closeness we shared, I am also quite glad to not be a part of what I think of as her "male harem". Still, despite the fact that I rather enjoy insulting her, I shall perhaps try to find a path that lies between these two extremes. Later, as we sipped absurdly overpriced drinks in a hotel bar with no piano, J. accused me of being overly macho. It wasn't intended as a compliment, yet I found it strangely gratifying to hear. Her statement was not true, of course, but it did confirm the aforementioned shift in our relationship. It will be a while before I have completed my metamorphosis into a knuckle-dragging brute. I think the hardest part will be cultivating an interest in sports and performance cars. posted by grover | Saturday, August 09, 2003 Friday, August 08, 2003   A work-based social evening gave me the chance to observe various reactions to inebriation, ranging from bullish to friendly to incoherent. One woman was flirting heavily with any male within reach, at least before her legs gave way and she collapsed in an ungainly heap. She reminds me of Z. in some very superficial physical ways, but also in terms of this drink-fuelled flirtatiousness. I made a note to introduce alcohol into future dealings with women at as early a stage as possible. posted by grover | Friday, August 08, 2003 Thursday, August 07, 2003   Why do I have such trouble expressing my sexuality? I resolved myself to answering this question with the aid of some psychology books. It was far too hot to do this indoors, so I sat outside reading as the night came down. Soon it was too dark to read, so I brought out a candle. To cut a long story short, I ended up hastily aiming a garden hose at the plastic table I had been sitting at in order to avoid setting it ablaze. Freud would probably say that this pyromaniacal episode was my way of avoiding the issues at hand, my repressed libido finding literally explosive expression in a ball of flame. Despite my distrust of psychoanalysis, for once I would agree. posted by grover | Thursday, August 07, 2003 Wednesday, August 06, 2003   Realising that I did not have enough pairs of short trousers to cope with the current heatwave, I donned a rather unbecoming pair of white shorts, and went into a nearby town centre on a shopping expedition. Unfortunately, the rest of the local populace had evidently had the same idea, and both the charity shop and the discount store, which on my last visits had been abundant with shorts, had virtually been cleared of them. Those that remained were mainly of the hideously gaudy type intended for various sporting activities, with designs broken into meaningless patches, each one of which is coloured with a different fluorescent shade. If the heat continues, and the shorts shortage turns out to be city-wide, I may have to resort to wandering the streets in my underwear. Either that, or give in and actually purchase and wearing a pair of the ludicrous multi-coloured sports shorts. I feel like a schoolboy, with life itself being my sadistic P.E. teacher. posted by grover | Wednesday, August 06, 2003 Tuesday, August 05, 2003   In view of the sweltering temperatures, I wore a nice white linen shirt, only to discover that large numbers of people in the street were dressed identically. However, I was able to reassert my individuality after messily consuming a tin of pilchards in tomato sauce and some carrot and coriander soup. As is my wont, I broke spontaneously into song in the midst of working. My boss, who was nearby, asked a colleague if I was being sarcastic. "He always does that," he explained. posted by grover | Tuesday, August 05, 2003 Monday, August 04, 2003   Walking the streets during a rather truncated lunch break, I met one of my colleagues going about his business. He greeted me with a warm handshake, a gesture I appreciated. It's not one that I am particularly good at giving, being still rather unused to the world of human tactility. Still, I am working on improving this, and have started to shake hands even with old friends, where previously I thought of it as being overly formal. A short while later, I saw some books in a shop window from a publisher I used to work for, and went inside in a fit of egotism, to see if any of the books I had been involved in were still in stock. Ah, yes, there it was in black and white: my name in print. I toyed with the idea of bringing women into the shop in order to impress them with this evidence of the tremendous importance of my existence, but then realised that since the books were on the distinctly unglamourous subject of computers, this might well have the opposite effect, and negate any chance of physical relations that I might have had with them. On the other hand, if they were impressed, that would cancel out any chance that they might have had with me. I was truly surprised when another colleague, J.(b), referred to us as being "close mates". I remained silent when he expressed doubt about whether I saw him the same way, as I did not, although this may be partly to do with my recent tendency to not label relationships. I am now considering keeping in touch with him after he leaves the company, which will be soon, as it's surely better to have another friend than to not. I possess the telephone numbers of various people that I like, but whom I had not intended to call unless for specific business reasons. It might be an idea to call on a purely social basis. In the evening, I had an awkward telephone conversation with D. I was worried that she was not giving enough priority to our business venture, and this came across, despite my attempts to not appear neurotic. The exchange was cut off for technical reasons, which gave me time to collect my thoughts. After accepting the worst case scenario, that she might leave the project, which would slow things down considerably, I felt much calmer. This was reflected in the much more productive call I made to her later on, when, with the fear of the unknown out of the way, I was able to focus on the concrete issues of what we had to do. I told my cousin about my work situation, and the likelihood of redundancies being made. She said that if they were, I was bound to be one of those dismissed, as my boss (female) did not like me. I protested that I was good at my job, to which her reply was: "Women don't care." She paused for dramatic effect. "Believe me." Perhaps a visit to the florist or the chocolatier is in order. posted by grover | Monday, August 04, 2003 Sunday, August 03, 2003   A sense of philistinism crept up on me as I tried to stay awake whilst watching an old monochrome French film in a repertory cinema, which everyone else in the audience seemed to be enjoying immensely. I may not be as highbrow as I fancied. How will I cope with this dreadful secret? Fortunately, analyses of the film were available on a printed handout, one of which I took home. It sits on my desk, ready to be memorised and recited should I be asked for my opinion of the film. posted by grover | Sunday, August 03, 2003 Saturday, August 02, 2003   I was accused of being overly optimistic for the first time. Although it was meant as a criticism, I took it as quite a compliment. Most of my life has been spent under a cloud of pessimism, and indeed I was feeling rather negative about certain things when the non-offending label was applied. Having bad moods affect my outward behaviour has long been a concern of mine, so this incident makes me hopeful that I am improving in this regard (I do not believe I was overcompensating). I feel optimistic that my optimism will continue to grow. posted by grover | Saturday, August 02, 2003 Friday, August 01, 2003   Peeping through a window, I watched a sizable flock of starlings congregated in the garden pecking away at the lawn. A pigeon or two came to partake in the fun. After the previous weekend's disappointing lack of activity, I had the urge to go and join in myself. But that would have been foolish. Pecking at the ground is for the birds. posted by grover | Friday, August 01, 2003		links my life in prose contact archives