Being Happy

Listening to Replicas by Tubeway Army

I didn’t know any of that.

It has been a struggle to remain anything other than downcast over the last few weeks. Things are beginning to look a bit better but there are threats for the future. All this has made me think of why I get so down. Before I was about 16, nothing worried me for very long; the worst thing I can remember is when the school decided to give us mock O-level exams AFTER Christmas one year which resulted in a few of the more radical pupils (and they were all female) to protest though I can’t actually remember if the teachers even bothered to listen. I have to tell you that this was a school where one of the girls was disciplined for having a perm. I actually got quite upset at that, though probably only to the point of expressing solidarity with the usual suspects in the group of sixth-form girls who petitioned the deputy head about it. This all reminds me of the sock rebellion in Adrian Mole. I’ve digressed alarmingly here. The point is that no worry lasted for any length of time; they were all resolved and finalised. In the Sixth Form I began to worry about career and future though even here nothing kept me awake – my insomnia was for other reasons.

My point is that over the years, worries have multiplied in my head without any real increase in the potential results of the things I am worrying about. I did have some wonderful theory that used pseudo-mathematics to define the length of time you spend worrying about something being in proportion to the point you have reached in your life. I wonder of course whether this applies just to me as nobody else seems to be worried about anything. I think that maybe I appear less worried and more confident than I actually think I do; sometimes I listen to myself on the phone and marvel at the lucidity and confidence which I hear. I am learning to compartmentalise well these days. That is not to say that there will not be more days when I just want to bang my head against a wall and cry. The subject of yesterdays rant may well be very good at being happy – I suspect she is very good indeed.

I am depressed again. I just read some of the news on Gary Numan’s Official Web site which confirms everything I ever thought about him. I am being uncharitable – we all mature. I hope he enjoyed Chessington World of Adventure.

Now Listening to Six Marimbas by Steve Reich

Now Steve would never go to Chessington World of adventure.

Flashing Blades
A take on the world by another Steve here ,and very apt after hearing Evelyn Glennie on In Tune last night. Glennie seems so stateswomanlike these days it is difficult to reconcile this image with that of the gauche yet confident teenager starting at the Royal College of Music, having to put towels over her drums to stop the sound going up into the flat above. I have seen her play twice at the Philharmonic Hall in Liverpool. One of those times she played a whole kitchen which I suppose included the Kitchen Sink. I wouldn’t want to make her cross as she can hit things very hard.