After having spent a couple weeks in the newly graduated job-seeking clan, I have learnt a few things about myself. Now most of these character traits I’m sure anyone who has been in this in-between-employment-predicament, has also found out about themselves. Such as, I like having a routine, adapting my non-working and no commitment lifestyle into one of regularity. Regular bed times, lunch breaks, tea times, the usual. After all, as humans we are creatures of habit, so no surprises there. Secondly, I have a tendency to procrastinate. From excessive pottering to a disproportional amount of time tidying my room before making myself go for a run or start my work. I have the classic symptoms that every person with too much free time on their hands faces, of postponing things till a bit later.
But more interestingly I have found a new character development that I had not predicted. After much time sitting alone in my isolated countryside house, where communication is only available through technology, or with my wide-eyed, optimistic, yet speechless dogs. I am beginning to inhabit the behaviours of a recluse. Communication with real people is getting hard. After spending days on end refining the art of crafting the perfect nonchalant email. Where in fact every detail is contemplated, each punctuation mark is carefully considered to induce the right tone of voice, and ‘synonyms’ becomes an imperative tool to ensure you have used your elaborate word choice in the correct context. So, at the end of the day or the week, when real life people return to my life and there is no room for edits, I become somewhat of a bumbling idiot or an over-excited fool.
The problem seems that either I cannot say anything very inspired without help of my keyboard, with much ummm-ing, errr-ing and grunting in my replies. Or in fact I become so very over excited to have human company that my speech is rapid, and includes any old thoughts that come into my head, regardless of whether they make sense or not. Just the other day I discussed at length my unhappiness at humans neglecting their sense of smell. Protesting that we underuse this sense and should be more like our cousins, the monkeys, whom use it to find good places for their homes and friends. I have never had a particular passion, or any substantial knowledge on sensory issues, and can only assume that after I forced this hearty lecture on an unassuming victim, that my judgement and sanity have been clouded due to my solitude.
So as a promise to myself, I am aiming to write more over the next few weeks and months, to help me fill this time with stimulating thoughts and ideas, keeping me from these strange communication habits. I have neglected my blog for far too long, so now I will be back in action as I have a bit of free time on my hands. You can expect (if I don’t fall into the procrastination trap) my take on feminism and what this term means nowadays. Theatre and live-performance reviews. Maybe even an infamous story about my unfortunate incident with a shower. And, perhaps if I am excellent and pro-active enough, a first draft of a play. So if you find it relatively amusing to read my little anecdotes please watch this space, suggest things you would like me to write and encourage me along in this project. Glad to have you on board!