I have no real agenda for this picture of Messrs Reno and Cassel being here in my blog. Except that I'm obsessed of course. And actually if you want to look at some really tasty pictures of Vincent, go here. My French sucks so I can't really tell what the hell he's up to, but you know...somehow it doesn't really matter. Sigh. (Funny isn't how I allow myself this ridiculous indulgence and somehow it's semi-acceptable because they are French. If I had an obsession with Vin Diesel I'd have myself sectioned. But you know, French actors ... sacre bleu! I'm so avant-garde. Etc. Yawn.)
Ach, it's been such a damn draining week. I feel incredibly overloaded, like I'm spinning out of control... things are slipping from my grasp. Every time I steal half an hour for myself to dawdle around on the internet or watch a tiny bit of telly, or whatever, I feel surging guilt. I think I have some kind of a mental disorder. (I know I know I know, I have covered this before. Well, that's what crazy people do... talk to themselves and say the same thing over and over. ) This disorder involves spending all my time thinking about work and no time thinking about any of the things that I need to sort out, like my tax bill or my laundry or the bits I need for the Rover. Everything seems to be such a problem these days. As Lungfish said "nothing is easy anyway". Maybe I am just tired of life, full stop? I just can't be arsed, as they say in Jolly Old.
Spent the weekend getting really wound up about work. Some people helped by listening to me rant, for far far far too long, on the phone, late at night. I thank you. My gorgeous lovely wonderful superb Florida family helped me through last week by offering my their unconditional support. And bless them, even sent me a plane ticket so I can go and visit in a couple of weeks, and they can spend the whole time convincing me to move back to the States. Bless them.
And I am, indeed, definitely considering that. I'm just wondering what is left for me in London. Mostly I am probably worried about what is going to happen with my job. Our company is kind of like a family business, and I'm not sure how well that is set up to "pass down the generations" if you know what I mean. Stuff like this starts to matter more the older you get. It sucks, but it's true.
Also, my flat mate is moving out, and to be honest, I've had it really JAMMY for years here. The rent is cheap, and on top of that my flat mate has pretty much been living at his girlfriends house for the last six months so it's been like living alone. Anyway, the bitter pill to swallow is of course at the worst possible time for me financially. And I started looking around for a new place, the joke being that it would be MORE expensive to move into a smaller 1 bedroom place, even if I carry the whole rent myself. Still doesn't make it affordable of course... But that's only the tip of the iceberg.
I just don't know if I want to be in London anymore... that's part of it. There are things I truly love about this city, mostly the special people that are close to me, but I also adore the city's scathing lack of sentiment or sensitivity, it's stiff upper lip if you will... and, well alot of other things that I won't permit myself to digress into right now. But London is a cruel mistress, who will break you financially emotionally if you let her. I read something somewhere in the last few days, a man saying how he found it difficult to meet women in London because they are all so suspicious and guarded. And I'm sure it's true, but the flip side is that all the men are lecherous and evil and self-absorbed. Okay well, maybe not quite evil, but you know what I mean. Or maybe I just hang out in the wrong places. No, I know I hang out in the wrong places. People in London are all a bit messed up and closed in a way, see what I'm saying? And I think I've become closed too.
Ultimately I guess I'm trying to decide if I want to be in London, say, when I'm 50. Because if I don't, I should get a plan together now....shouldn't I? Now when can I fit that meeting into my schedule....
