Hubris

Nothing so fortifies a friendship as a belief on the part of one friend that he is superior to the other. - Honore de Balzac

Ok so this has now officially been the most shit shitty shiteous few days for quite some time. Not least because I just wrote a fucking epic post which blogger ate, then SAVED within seconds of each other so I could do fuck all about it. Brilliant. Blogger could you just... do something about your hungry bloody website? How does a select all constitute an instruction to delete a good hour and a halves writing? Or just... I don't know... fuck off?? Argh!!

So, for the second bastard time (and this time a damn sight angrier) the reasons for my hellish weekend. Being called into work on my day off to have morons be rude to me and answer the same question over and over again (No, the parking is DIFFERENT on Sundays), a stupid oversight on my part saw me forgetting about a friend's last minute birthday drinks so the guilt was mingled with a large amount of anger after gauging her reaction to my cock up ("Whatever.") and a delightful chap insisting that he hoped my crippled mother would have to walk up stairs because my attitude stank. Oh and Mr B kissing a girl and not knowing how he felt about that. Great!

Luckily for me, I am a Bee and I have a lovely Kiwi Bear who knows just how to cheer me up in the face of all this adversity. Despite the fact the only warning he had about the ranting he'd be facing this evening was a call from me this morning asking if we were still on to do some recording this morning and me informing him that I'd need a squeeze when I saw him, he was bloody great and has done wonders to my mood (or did, until Blogger decided to join in the fun.).

He had written some new stuff for a short film that he was helping a friend with by writing the score. We had already recorded a couple of bits ages ago which were firmly on the film, which this week had amazingly been seen by bloody Danny Boyle (Trainspotting, Slumdog Millionaire director) and Gus Van Sant (Good Will Hunting director)! They have heard me warbling! Madness. So we were charged with doing a bit more stuff this evening and I was damn proud of what we made. I wish I wasn't so useless at computers - I'd love to be able to show you our track from this evening, but the best I can do at present is to write the Kiwi's lyrics which are gorgeous:

Shall we begin again?
Still lie the waters I drink from.
Shall we remove the blame?
Still lies the hand I hold onto.

The further we fall from the light,
An endless breath of night.

Endless breath of night.

It's a sweet slow piano with a bit of strings and woodwind subtly over the top of it. Just my voice which is quiet but clear and it's incredibly sad and atmospheric. He's so good that boy. So well done Kiwi, and thank you for your attention. I told him that all my life I wished for someone who'd write beautiful songs for me to sing and play them for me and he is that man. How lovely.

So he managed to take my mind off how stupid I feel about getting it so wrong about bloody Mr B, for a bit anyway. This time last week I was 95% sure that Mr B felt more than me, which left me totally safe in this sweet arrangement where I couldn't get hurt. Now I am 100% sure that I am a tit and don't know my arse from my elbow. So many body parts.

The story is that even though I don't know my own mind, luckily I was right about the level of Mr B's honesty - he went out with a friend on Saturday to a film festival, who ended up kissing him. He wasn't expecting it (he used the word "peculiar" about four times on the phone) but he doesn't know what this means or what's happening, or how he feels about it. I suggested in my calmest, "I really don't care that much" voice that we put this thing on hold for a bit to save any confusion and he agreed with awkwardness, nervousness, relief and forced jollity (a word?), then insisted we meet this week. Wednesday for lunch it is. The important thing is going against all of my instincts and actually admitting that this news affected me which means it all has to halt.

The problem is that it all got too comfortable and now the prospect of a change is a bit of a jolt. Which goes to show it all has to stop NOW NOW NOW - if it's a bit of a shock now, just how bad will it be if this ends up being a false alarm and this thing continues? I feel like an idiot that I had lulled myself into this false sense of security and that I am surprised. I also keep trying to tell myself that it's ok - I'm allowed to make mistakes - by my standards this is not a big one and recovery time should be fairly short.

The really annoying thing is realising that I've been repeating a stupid pattern - in a way this is a step forward as the last time this happened it was far far more destructive but sadly it's a step forward in the slow lane as I'm still doing the same thing.
The last time I convinced myself that I was doing a shy, slightly damaged boy a favour by spending time and energy on him and in doing so was also convinced that one day soon he'd turn around and realise that he couldn't live without me, was a few years back - except that one slept with me about once every three months and the rest of the time told me how fat and unfanciable I was (which is a very effective weight-loss plan by the way, though it doesn't do much for your self esteem). So progress... in a way...

Hopefully this fourth horrible thing (fucking Blogger) marks an end to this unusual run of crappy things happening. I don't often get the total arseholes at work, I rarely fall out with friends and I tend to focus on the self preservation side of being involved with people. I am, however, getting used to the idea that Blogger hates me.

I think this means it should take about a week or two for me to slink off and lick my wounds before bouncing back. Though this slinking may include self pitying blog entries. Apologies if that is the case.