100 things (41 - 50)

41. I really hate the sound of people eating. I cannot stress enough how unpleasant I find it to listen to the sound of someone eating. It's bad enough when they eat nicely with no crunching, slurping and chewing, but when the person eating is incapable of completing the process without opening their mouth half way through and sharing the sound of their chewing with those around them, it becomes intolerable. 42. I would love to work for myself and be judged on the merits of my work and my ability to do what's needed rather than the petty bureaucracy which comes with an 'office job'. I assumed that adult life would be a little less demeaning than to be hauled in for questioning about what could possibly be more important than being at work, incorrectly as it turns out. It's too tempting to just say 'stick it' and go off on my merry way, but I will remain calm, collected and insouciant and try to avoid saying anything alluding to my ultimate plan. 43. I always thought I had a novel in me, but I am coming to realise that it might not be a novel, just a novel's worth of stuff. I like writing, but am not so committed to my own thoughts that I wouldn't be happy writing to command. In fact, my own thoughts seem to provide material for this blog and little else, meaning that I can't imagine myself actually writing anything requiring concerted effort unless I was avoiding other writing work. This is the only way I can see myself making the most of my creative writing skills - as a procrastinating exercise in lieu of gainful employment. 44. I am a night person - when I was at university I used to sleep from about 5am till around 10, then do daytime stuff, have another nap and be awake from about 5pm again. I am always more motivated at later hours - something about knowing that everyone else is asleep makes me want to do things, but having a full day stretching ahead of me gives procrastination new powers to suck time into the abyss. 45. I'm scared of the logical conclusions to my beliefs. I love the fact that this country has a welfare system designed to support those in need, and I resent those who view a life on benefits as a lifestyle choice. However, I am aware that this kind of choice stems from a lack of belief in a person's ability to do better for themselves, a lack of ambition and a failure to feel motivated to earn a place in the world. So, how would I solve it? Well, clearly part of the problem is the low expectations of parents and those around them who never exert any positive pressure to at least find something they enjoy doing and try to make it a career. Which then brings me uncomfortably close to parenthood licenses and other eugenically based solutions to a problem which may not be solvable in the short term. Then I think about the people in genuine need who are not getting enough support and help, my mind then swings to the amount of money it actually costs to administer a programme where funding is allocated on the basis of genuine need rather than self-inflicted poor circumstance, and so on and so on. Then I remember Gulliver's Travels and I am reminded that t'was ever thus, and chill the hell out a bit. 46. I am coming to realise that there are very few things less appealing than watching a co-worker (colleague seems a little too affectionate in this instance) picking their nose and eating it. If that co-worker also has an inflated sense of their own abilities and breath that could floor a rhino it just adds to the complete feeling of disgust that overwhelms you when you are forced into close contact with them. I just want to lean over and say 'Hey dog-food breath - I don't want to watch you eat food, let alone your own snot'. But I won't, for today at least. Did I get smug in there - because he's really smug too. That's not as bad as knowing that everything he touches in the office has his snot mark on it, but it's pretty bad. 47. I wish my skin would grow up a bit - I have the complexion of a hormonal teen, which I am reliably informed will make me look younger in later life as the grease will protect my delicate facial skin from drying out. I assumed I would always look young because I have got teenage skin, which is becoming even more galling the older I get. Damn stupid skin - as if the general rebellion wasn't enough, there's then the constant issue of 'how much do I fiddle before I accept I'm making it worse', and then ever-present 'would I rather it looked worse but hurt less, or would I settle for more pain if I thought nobody could see it?' conundrum. Nothing good to say about my skin generally - it's prone to eczema, infection, heat rash, inexplicable bruising and has the ability to withstand the sun for no more than 18 seconds at a time. 48. It's surprisingly hard to think of things about myself for this exercise - I might have to stop at 50 and come back to it when I have had a chance to experience life as someone who is conscious of trying to write 100 things about themselves. 49. I have never said 'I love you' and not meant it. In fact I have only said it to two people and one was a teenage crush, so although I really meant it at the time and thought it was 'it', the fact that I was going out with someone else two weeks after he dumped me did make me think that perhaps I was deluding myself. Now of course the Boy Wonder is the recipient of my outpourings and I can't imagine saying it to anyone else. 50. I am strangely drawn to peculiar names for our future children - the Boy Wonder is blessed with such an unremarkable name that it's actually remarkable, and now I have got his surname, my already unremarkable name has become even more so. For some reason this makes me want to give our children outlandish names, none of which will fly with the Boy Wonder, so I find myself increasingly trying to trick him into agreeing to them when drunk. Poor kids - they are already referred to as our 'big-headed children' so things are probably going to get worse before they get better.