A is for aargh

1. A few years ago Charlie gave me a tshirt with the phrase ‘I have issues’ on the front. Even though that was before I started therapy, that was nothing new, therefore I wasn’t offended. I don’t wear it anymore, partly because my mother’s nicked it (I ‘m not 100% sure she gets the meaning of it, but it’s soft) and partly because it attracted the wrong kind of lesbians. The wrong kind for me, that is. I’m not into crisis seekers. Nope.

2. Still….Blogpeople, do you know what my problem is? I have a list of blogposts this long, all starting with ‘Blogpeople, do you know what my problem is?’ Ad infinitum.

In the series, ‘blogpeople, do you know what my problem is?’, tonight’s is: I’m competitive and I don’t like it. It’s a poison.

3. For example, let me tell you about my Spanish class. It’s my blog anyway, I can do whatever I want. I love my Spanish class! Especially since the only contender I had for top of the class has dropped out three weeks ago (and I have had no hand in that disappearance whatsoever.) Anyway, I have my final exam next week, until then I’ll be getting a rash, and if I don’t get ‘sobresaliente 2’, I’ll probably vomit.


4. In my first year of primary school, I carefully selected the boy from my class that I could spend the rest of the year having a crush on. The (unspoken) criteria were: a) he had to have cute hair b) but not as cute as mine c) he had to run the fastest d) but I had to run faster e) he had to have the best grades in the year group f) but not as good as mine.
I must have been a right pain in the ass; and the boy with the cutest hair turned out to be the class dunce anyway.

5. What’s the antidote for competitiveness? A nunnery? I’d probably find something. Who’d have the best hair shirt, perhaps.

6. I’m having a crap week. I blame it on Mercury, which is doing something retro that planets do, and which sucks, apparently.