Tuesday, June 27, 2006

The Loneliness of the Long- Distance Blogger

I used some of flatmate's coffee while he was away last week, about half a packet, which I replaced with a full unopened packet. Then this morning I found I'd run out of coffee again, but when I tried to borrow some of his, I found he had carefully hidden them behind all the other food in his manky cupboard. Do you know, I wouldn't feel much of a twang if Lovebird and I were to suddenly move out... He (Flatmate) wants to read Thus Spake Zarathustra but is worried he won't understand it on his own. So every time I'm relaxing with John Le Carre he pops up and tells me how much it would cost if we all chipped in to buy a copy to read together. Four quid each, apparently. (With Flatmate, everything comes down to buying something in the end, whether it's reading Nietzche or camping out in the woods to gain spiritual enlightenment. Which he was meant to do all week, but he kept hearing animals outside his tent and so after one night he gave up and went to Preston.) How many times do I have to tell him I don't feel like reading Zarathustra? I feel like reading The Honourable Schoolboy and if he wants to join me in discussing it he'd be very welcome. I was slightly peturbed to realise this weekend, at my grandparents Diamond wedding celebration on the Isle of Wight, that I am in fact the most normal and well-adjusted person on at least my mother's side of the family. Which brings me on to mental health. My buddy Cat is coming to stay with us today, after a spell up North with her mum while she convalesces after some bad depression. (To my mind, the phrases 'up North' and 'with one's mum' don't describe an atmosphere conducive to good metal health, but there you go. ) But I'm slightly worried. During her illness she became exceedingly needy and instead of being friends like we had been, she mostly voiced her insecurities and moaned about her problems while I gave her a running commentary on my tips for a healthy mind and life-style. (Don't worry guys, I'll tell you them when I get a moment). But now the balance of our friendship has changed and I really don't like it; I feel like her mother. It's partly caused by this attitude to depression that it's inevitably chronic; Cat feels like it will always be lurking under the surface, even when she feels fine. Consequently she assumes that our new 'protector and invalid' relationship seems ok to her. Weird.


weierstrass said...

three different paragraphs about different people whose (main) problem is that they need to be whacked upside their head once or twice with the reality stick..
i do not include myself in the above.

Sicily said...

"I am in fact the most normal and well-adjusted person on at least my mother's side of the family"

Where's the fun in being fucking normal?

woodscolt said...

Let none of us ever forget that our dear uncle aspires to normalcy, or at least to a colour supplement form of normalcy.

woodscolt said...

Re: depression. I reckon you're only really cured of depression when you stop believing that it's constantly lurking under the psychological surface. That fear is a symptom, not a cause of the illness.

problemshelved said...

I didn't say it was fun. I didn't say it was something I aspired to. I didn't even say I was normal, merely that I was the most normal person there.
Is normalcy American for normality?

weierstrass said...

normalcy is the american for normality.

re: zarathustra. it's really just about the fear that once you buy the book, you no longer have any excuse not to read it, except that it's too hard.
someone i know was a little bit like that about our joint plans to get fit and stuff, they needed some £100 pound trainers to go running, so they had to find out where they could get them for 50, etc.

but maybe we should start a book club anyway..

was planning to read zarathustra this summer, but haven't got round to it yet.. i don't think i will read it with LR. perhaps he would like to borrow NIetzsche for beginners?

ps jo updated her blog