Two Out of Six (Ish)

So, my self-motivational talk to myself to self-motivate myself (lol) seemed to have the bizarre and rather unprecedented effect of actually working. I was getting by (only just) without enough sleep and after my breakfast of toast and jam at work, realised that the combination of a complete lack of fundage and my laziness in making myself lunch the evening before had resulted in me having to go without lunch. Rather than go and sit in the common room to watch other people eat, I sat at my desk all day, aside from the odd trip to the kitchen for drinks, or to collect the post, or to use the photocopier. For some unknown reason, the lack of both food and sleep had the inexplicable outcome of making me feel rather energetic mentally.

I had been lazy yesterday and hadn't even started any of the job applications that were closing today. I knew that I should try to submit at least one, seeing as I am quite obviously discontent in my current job, like to moan about it too much and still had some time to cobble something resembling a job application together, since the deadline was likely to be at the end of the day. I had a sneaky look at a couple of the positions I remembered and most liked. After reviewing them both and the lengthy tomes that comprised their respective application forms, I picked one that seemed to require skills and experience that closely matched my own, being rather similar to my last job, but at a more advanced level and for significantly higher pay.

Despite the sleep deprivation and hunger-induced fog that was clouding my mind, the words came surprisingly easily and I typed out what I thought was a fairly decent personal statement and outline of my reasons for applying. After ages of faffing with their poorly-designed application form (despite it being a creative institution - shame the vacancy wasn't in HR, I could have made redesigning that form my first contribution to the role), I managed to complete all the necessary information, spell-check and proof-read over my statements a few times and get it emailed to the correct member of personnel.

Feeling rather pleased with myself for actually getting something done for a change (despite somewhat at the detriment of my actual work to-do list), I rattled off a quick email to Lolly and then got on with processing the huge pile of payment forms currently pending on my desk. I even managed to stick it out at work till 6.00pm (it might have been later if IT weren't upgrading Microsoft Office at 6.00pm, which prevented me from doing any more work), printed out some more job descriptions and made the most of the absence of thelondonpaper by reading them on the way home, making the odd note here and there and assessing how well I met the person specifications and criteria for each one.

Big Sis and Bro-in-Law had gone to check on his parents' house while they are away, so when I got home, I warmed up the pasta they had left me for dinner. While waiting, I made two sandwiches for tomorrow's lunch, did some washing up, then ate my dinner, did a few bits online, had a soak in a ridiculously hot bath, got lotioned up and dressed for bed, then painted my toenails a sexy shade of deep red called Vixen. Big Sis and Bro-in-Law arrived home and Big Sis joined me in my room to borrow my laptop for some Facebookage and to laugh at my toe-painting skills (which weren't all that bad, actually).

I haven't made a bad start to the week, other than the fact that despite my being ready for bed at about 10.30pm, I am still awake writing a blog and watching Spaced at 12.30am. OK, so the early nights thing needs some work. But I have made lunch for tomorrow and submitted a job application, two tasks which I can (partly) tick off my week's to-do list and which have therefore given me a tiny (and rather pathetic when I see it in writing) sense of achievement. I have at least two more jobs that I definitely want to apply for and will hopefully start the applications for tomorrow. On tomorrow evening's to-do list is definitely making a start on the embarrassingly huge pile of clothes I have on my big chair, that seems to be magically multiplying overnight.

Despite my sudden burst of (probably short-lived) motivation, I am still feeling low. No matter how hard I try to just get on with things, no matter how I try to change my mindset and get on with the things that I need to and no matter if I even start to feel relatively positive or content, there is still a void where BFTP used to be. The past couple of days, I've been wondering if he's got back with his ex. Maybe he wouldn't go back there, but I know from experience the peculiar comfort that a familiar relationship can bring, even if it's an f-ed up one. I hope he hasn't, partly because from what he told me and from what I could deduce, it didn't seem to be a healthy or even mutually beneficial relationship for him. Of course, I also don't want it to be the case because of my own selfish reasons, but mostly because I'm pretty sure that him being with his ex would mark the certain end to us getting in touch again, even as friends. It's worse having experienced an incredible start to a friendship and all the lovely possibilities it had the potential to bring, only to have it disappear as suddenly as it arrived. I almost wish I hadn't seen the glimpse of what could have been (and what could still be...?). Almost. Even if that's all it was, a glimpse, it helped me make decisions that I couldn't see clearly enough to make otherwise. It helped me to more accurately define what I find most important and would most like in a serious relationship. It helped reassure me that the characteristics and qualities I am looking for are attainable and not unrealistic or unreasonable to desire in someone. I can't regret any of that. For that, I will always be thankful, even if it does mean that our brief rekindled contact served a specific purpose and nothing more. I really hope that's not the end to that story, but whether it is or not is out of my hands.

NY Guy will be back in town at the end of this week and I'm not really looking forward to it. I'm not intending to contact him, but I'm still anticipating him suggesting a catch-up, even if it is in his unenthusiastic, minimal-effort-made, I'm-allegedly-still-in-love-with-you-but-all-I'm-really-bothered-about-is-that-my-ego-got-dented way. I think his three weeks in London, one week in NY arrangement is probably going to mess me up. I know I won't hear from him while he's back home and there's almost a sense of relief about that, but when he's back here I'll be back to that anxious feeling that I might bump into him. Maybe I've built up this anxiety surrounding him based on his ice-cool exterior. Perhaps confronting this weird fear/anger I have will help me get over it. I don't know. But for now, I am doing what I finally need to do: trying to get on with life and do what is best for me for a change.