Sometimes I read school life/university-setting manga and I get all pseudo-nostalgic and think that hmm perhaps I should have taken group photos and happy candids and photos at events and things. Then I remember I have a very strong aversion to getting my photo taken, but I think I’ll regret it when I’m older and still narcissistic and think, aww why don’t I have any photos of when I was young and probably looking my best.
It’s not so much writers’ block I suffer from, but fragmented thoughts, little tidbits of topics that aren’t worthy of being blogged about. I overanalyse my sentences, replacing words and moving phrases.
I’ve just gotten back from going to Conk’s house where him, Emily and I watched Snowpiercer and the beginning of The Battle of Algiers. Conk is a great host and it was fun. He ate at least five of my muffins in one go and that made me happy. Snowpiercer was a decent film.
Now that I quit my job and have a looming car loan that I should actually be repaying right now, life’s seeming a little grey now. A lot of the time, I feel that I am overconcerned with my finances, but I think for me it’s a way of being in control of my life: knowing I have this much to spend, this much to save, this much for treats.
I’ve got a job interview on Monday at a hospitality agency which makes me feel like a total fraud, because I’ve never had to carry three plates, never had to clear them from a certain side, have no knowledge of alcoholic drinks and their drinking etiquette, nothing. Imposter syndrome, hello! I also have to buy the waitress uniform which is going to set me back quite a bit for a job I don’t think I’m even going to get.
Today we were talking about our romantic lives (of which only Emily has any success) and David remarked that out of all three of us he expected I would have the most eventful background. My relatives have begun telling me to bring boyfriends back with me overseas. Alas, my romantic prospects are a flat horizon. I don’t meet many new people, I’m bad at initiating contact, I’m bad at keeping in contact and I’m not in touch with my feelings. Or I don’t have them. Or something. I think the conversation I had with my younger cousin (15) really put it well: most/all of the guys around us on a regular basis are unattractive, and the rare attractive guy we don’t consider ourselves worthy to get the attention of. But right now, blah blah single blah uninterested blah blah etc.