Occasional coarse language

I enjoy swearing. There’s something very satisfying about venting frustration, anger or annoyance with a good swear. I know it’s not for everybody, and I’m certainly capable of censoring myself when necessary, but it is something I do a lot. I’ve been involved in a few conversations about swearing recently and it’s interesting to hear how much people differ on the subject. I would say most of my friends have a similar view to me, although they probably aren’t all quite as enthusiastic about it as I am. Some won’t say certain words, which I respect and understand. I’m sure I have a limit somewhere too, it just seems to be a lot further away these days. Other people think it’s completely unnecessary, and  in a way I also agree with this, not that being unnecessary would ever stop me. I have many conversations where I’m able to say what I need to say and effectively get my opinion across without using anything close to swearing. I know it can be done, I just don’t always want to. Although I do have to be careful, I have been known to slip up if I'm in a particularly bad mood or speaking passionately about something. I find it's a bit of a case of once I start I can't stop, so it's better not to start a lot of the time. It can also be a struggle to keep the bad words inside my head, and I do often mutter them under my breath, which is bound to get me in trouble one day. But on the whole I think I know when to let it all hang out and when to be more demure. There’s definitely a naughtiness factor to it, and I will sometimes say things for the shock value. The timing has to be right, and the audience definitely has to be right, but there can be great satisfaction in using certain words when people aren’t expecting it, especially from a frumpy-ish, middle aged woman.

My appreciation of swearing probably goes hand in hand with my shamefully puerile sense of humour. I can't help it, if it's done cleverly and with the right amount of irony, I just find smutty innuendo very, very funny. At the same time I'm also a bit of a prude, and can be quite put out if someone who doesn't really know me makes a crude joke, expecting me to laugh along. It seems to me that the difference between entertaining and offensive when it comes to “rudeness” is intent. If a person knows me well, and they know that I know they’re joking (and I know that they know that I know they‘re joking), then they can say pretty much anything they like to me and I won’t take offence. But if someone I’ve just met or barely know made a similarly crude joke I’m much more likely to consider it inappropriate. It's probably an unfair distinction to make, and marks me as a bit of a hypocrite, but I do think that there's a very fine line. I would never assume it was okay to use certain language or say certain things to people unless I was sure they were aware of, and happy with, the manner in which it was intended. I know it’s a grey area, and it’s hard to be completely sure, but in this case I take the precaution of when in doubt, don’t. It's one of the reasons I try not to swear too often on the internet (publicly, anyway). I know I should be able to say whatever I like, but I’m also aware that not everyone will appreciate it, and I’d hate to alienate people I like by offending them with my potty mouth. I don’t want to be known as that person, even though in the right company I’m actually quite proud of it!

Sorry doesn't help (but it can't hurt)

I'm sorry to admit that I am a serial apologiser. It doesn't matter what the situation is, if I feel that there's even the slightest chance that I am wrong or somehow responsible for something, I will be apologising and feeling guilty for it. Sometimes I don't even have to be at all responsible for something to feel the need to apologise. I have never possessed the confidence to ever really be completely sure about things, so if something goes wrong I automatically feel that I must be somehow responsible. Or if I'm not responsible this time, I almost certainly must have made the same mistake in the past and therefore deserve to feel guilty by proxy. I do this a lot at work. No matter how sure I am about something, there's always that little niggle of doubt in the back of my mind. How can I be really sure that it is the way I think it is? What if I'm remembering something incorrectly? It's the reason I can never take part in trivia nights. I am virtually incapable of remembering important or valuable or worthwhile information, but useless crap is constantly wedging itself into my brain and refusing to budge. It helps to read low-brow magazines and wander around the internet a lot, there's just so much useless crap to take in wherever I turn. I reckon I'd probably be fantastic at trivia, but I will never, ever go to an organised group event. Because the first time I'm sure of an answer, and someone else in the group challenges me, I will give in to them because their challenge will automatically make me doubt myself. And they'll be wrong. And we will lose and it will be all my fault! I just don't need another way to feel like a failure, particularly if my failure means others will also fail. And I really don't need any more guilt, I'm overburdened with that already.

I would say it's residual Catholic guilt, but I was only ever a half-hearted Catholic at best. And I didn't do the whole Catholic school thing. My religious education really only consisted of school scripture classes, and they never did concentrate much on the more guilt-inducing aspects of the Catholic faith in those. Although I am quite proud that the only time I was ever sent out of the classroom in all my years at school was during Scripture. And by a priest, no less. Oh yeah, that's as badass as it gets! Still, I never paid enough attention to religion to really develop some hard and fast religious-related guilt, so I can only assume the ridiculous guilt-ridden feeling I've lived with all my life is just somehow naturally ingrained. Although over the years I have learned to appreciate the difference between genuine guilt and doubt-induced guilt, which is much less painful, although no less real. Knowing that I've done something that is deserving of guilt and/or shame is almost unbearably awful. Feeling guilty because that's just my default position is much easier to deal with. I also have a real fear of insisting I'm right about something and being proven wrong, which would be terribly embarrassing. Much better to assume I'm wrong and occasionally turn out to be right after all. At least that way if I am wrong I'm not embarrassed or even particularly disappointed, and in a strange way I‘m actually right anyway. So either way, I win.

There's nothing like the first time

If I could go back in time I wouldn't bother with the great moments in history. I'd much rather go back to the first time I heard The Smiths or saw The Office. I'd even be happy to go back a couple of months to the first time I watched The West Wing. That moment when I discover something really amazing is one of my greatest joys in life. There's not much that makes me happier than hearing an incredible song for the first time. Or discovering a television show that I can't tear myself away from until I've seen every minute of it. Or a wonderful book that's so engrossing that I can barely do anything else until it's finished, but also try to drag out as long as possible because I don't want to get to the end. Music is probably the most obvious and accessible. I love a song that can alter my mood, that makes me stop what I'm doing and forces me to listen to it rather than just playing in the background. Those are the moments when I know it's something special, and no matter how much I love a song, or how often I listen to it, it's never quite the same as that very first time. In the past I've made the mistake of searching for a replacement. I've tried to recreate the moment by hoping that something similar will have the same affect, but it doesn't work that way. I can't make it happen, it just does.

Then there are the oportunities to share something I love with someone else who may also love it, which is probably as close as I get to reliving the discovery. I don't really like to recommend things all that often, at least not too enthusiastically. I might mention something in passing in the hope that it may trigger someone's interest, but would never insist on them watching, listening to or reading whatever it is. I feel so attached to the things I love, even though I've had nothing at all to do with their creation, they're far too personal to me to have someone else dismiss them as unworthy. But those rare occasions when someone does actually "get it" the way I "get it" are worth the risk. As much as I would love to relive those moments of discovery, and I'm envious of people who are yet to experience the things that I think are so amazing, the best part is never knowing the next time that moment will hit. Will the next song I listen to be one of the ones that make my stomach flip? Will that new show have me so enthralled that I'll lose sleep to watch one more episode, and maybe just one more after that? Maybe that film that everyone's talking about will actually turn out to be as brilliant as they say, who knows? All I can be sure of is that it will happen again, and it will be worth waiting for. It always is.

The pursuit of boredom

Some days I wonder what my life would be like if I was more easily bored. Apparently some people get bored being at home with not very much to do, not something that's ever been a problem for me. I am rarely bored at home, where just about everything that I find entertaining is within easy reach. No matter where I am or what I'm doing, I am pretty much always looking forward to when I can get home and back to my mundane, everyday activities. I am much more easily bored when I'm out. I'm bored at work, where it can be a kind of repetitive and mindless at times. I'm bored when forced to socialise with people that I wouldn't normally choose to spend time with. I'm bored when faced with a barrage of stuff I have to do, but don't really want to do. But when I'm at home, not having to think about work or what needs doing, when I know I have an entire day to just sit around and watch TV or surf the net or read a book, that's when I'm happiest. Not to make it sound like that's all I do. I have responsibilities and obligations to take care of like everyone else. And I do actually enjoy going out and spending time with friends, especially those who I don't get to see anywhere near as often as I'd like. I get on well with my family, too, and genuinely like spending time with them, which I realise is actually quite a rare and wonderful thing in itself. I enjoy socialising as much as most other people do, it's just that I'm usually kind of relieved when it's over. In the past I have allowed myself to feel like there's something wrong with me for not having the same boredom threshold as others. It seemed to be considered odd that I didn't accept every social invitation, even when it's to something I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise, and know I won't enjoy anyway. Or not wanting to go along to something just "for something to do", like that should be reason enough. I never understood the desire to socialise with random people that I don't know, either. Sure, they could turn out to be interesting, like minded people, but they could also be painfully dull. Why risk it? These days I am of the very firm belief that you should get your joy wherever you find it, regardless of whether or not it's considered important or worthwhile by others. Expecting the "big" or "important" things to make me happy doesn't work, there are too many possibilities for things to go wrong, and expectations are generally way too high. But if spending my weekend watching an entire television series on DVD. Or hours surfing the net while playing games and chatting with friends. Or turning down an invitation to a party in favour of staying home with a good book makes me happy, then I don't feel like that time is wasted. I just feel incredibly lucky to have the opportunity to spend my time doing the things I really enjoy. How could that ever be considered boring?

With compliments (and some complaints)

Compliments are nice. In fact I would say they're one of my all time favourite things. What's not to like about a compliment? I like to give them at every opportunity, but I do have the very strict rule that they must always be sincere. Always. Otherwise what's the point? Sure, sometimes it's tempting to say something nice just to be kind (kindness is also one of my favourite things), but it's really not the same if it's not genuine. I do worry about coming across as insincere though, so I will sometimes stop myself from being overly complimentary if I think it's going to sound over the top, which I think is a bit of a shame, but necessary to avoid sounding like a zealous freak. Although conversely, being the ridiculous over thinker that I am, I have occasionally missed the opportunity to compliment because I've spent far too long considering whether I should or not. These days I will most often go with when in doubt, say it anyway. I also try to gauge the compliment taking ability of the recipient before jumping in if I can. I might try to ease it into the conversation rather than just saying it outright if I know they don't necessarily feel comfortable with compliments. I understand that, I'm not particularly good at accepting them myself, so I find a gentle approach works best in these cases. Whereas other people just love to be told they're awesome, which is fine and makes complimenting them much easier, although admittedly not as satisfying in the long run.

Of course not all compliments are created equal. I'm sure we've all been on the receiving end of the backhanded compliment at one time or another. Being a life-long fat girl, I have often heard the clichéd backhanded compliment of "you have such a pretty face". Most people would preface this with "I just have to tell you" and an air of exasperation, like they know I'm not going to like it, but they just have to say it anyway. "I just have to tell you, you have such a pretty face...", with the unspoken "...if only" part pointedly left out. Er, thanks, I guess. Then there are the not quite compliments. I don't understand the point of those, either. It's when someone says something like "you've had your hair cut" and leave it at that. Or "is that a new shirt?", then nothing. To me this always seems like a thinly veiled insult. Oh sure, they don't actually say something insulting, but the lack of a compliment implies something less than positive. If you go to the trouble of mentioning it, then surely the obvious thing to do is to say something nice about it. If you don't intend to say something nice, then I assume the obvious thing would be to not say anything at all. But maybe that's just me. There's also the third party compliment, which I've come across a lot. This is where someone won't compliment you personally, but will speak highly of you to someone else, presumably knowing that it will get back to you. I've had this happen to me with people who have been downright cold to my face, but glowingly complimentary about me to someone else. It's still a compliment, I guess, but it does seem like a slightly odd way to go about it. The thing is, I'm not saying we should all go around profusely complimenting each other, or even looking for things to compliment each other on, but if I notice something that I like about someone then I'm just going to say it. By the way, I'm very impressed that you've read this far. No, seriously, most people wouldn't bother. I think that shows an admirable level of kindness and decency that clearly makes you a wonderful person. Cheers!

The joy of stuff

I'm a little envious of people who don't feel an emotional attachment to inanimate objects, I wish I could be more like that. While I like fancy new gadgets, and covet so much more than I could ever dream of buying, there are some things that I just can't bare to part with no matter how old and tattered they become. My iPod is very much old school, but unless it decides to stop working I can't imagine wanting to replace it with a newer, sleeker model. It holds everything I could ever want to listen to, which is all I need it to do, and I feel a bit lost if I don't have it with me. I don't care that it's outdated and probably makes me very uncool, it's mine and I love it. I've driven the same car for almost 16 years, and I'm dreading the day that I have to replace it. I can admire other cars. I may even wonder what it would be like to drive something newer, with air conditioning and a CD player, but when I think about actually get rid of it I become quite emotional. I will even be a little offended on its behalf if people ask me when I'm getting a new car, as if it could be so easily discarded just because it's not shiny and new anymore.

Unfortunately my love of stuff means I'm also a bit of a hoarder. It's not something I do consciously, I just have a hard time throwing some things out. Not all things, mind you. In fact most things I will happily get rid of. But there are some things that I just keep much longer than I really need to. At least a couple of times a week I look at my neatly stacked piles of videos and think I really should do something about getting rid of them, especially considering I haven't had a working VCR for a couple of years now. Many I hadn't watched for years even when I did have a VCR, and the ones I did watch I've mostly replaced on DVD anyway, but I still find it hard to take the final step of throwing them out. I know they're not worth saving - they're certainly not in the same league as the vinyl records that I haven't listened to for 20 years but would never dream of parting with. And I don't expect that video will ever make a comeback, so there's no reason to keep them. But still they sit there, in their nice, neat piles, mocking me and my inability to part with them. I can't imagine just binning them, although I guess I could always put them out on big rubbish day in the hope that someone will find them interesting enough to take. I love big rubbish day. I love that people will trawl the streets looking for treasures amongst other people's cast offs. And I'm always a little chuffed when someone deems my rubbish worthy of taking, and kind of offended when they don't. I've never had the patience for that kind of thing myself, and I really don't need any more stuff than I've got anyway, but I like that others are willing to put in the effort to rescue something wonderful that would just become landfill otherwise. It makes me feel a bit better about throwing things out if I know there's the possibility that someone else will take them home, and maybe even appreciate them as much as I have.

For the love of food

I really do spend a ridiculous amount of time thinking about, shopping for, preparing and eating food. It doesn't help that the people around me enthusiastically share my love. No one I know ever suggests meeting for a drink (unless we're going to a restaurant inside a pub, and then it's just to kill time until dinner), it's always for a meal, or at least coffee and cake. And I love sharing food, I much prefer restaurants where at least some of the meal is shared. Individual meals only lead to plates being passed around so everyone can try what everyone else is having anyway. The only time I don't believe in sharing is when it comes to dessert. In my experience, the kind of person who suggests sharing dessert is generally not a dessert lover. And as well as not understanding what's so wrong with the suggestion in the first place, the non-dessert lover will often want something I wouldn't dream of ordering - usually involving rhubarb or rice or basil or some other ingredient that has no business being in my dessert. Then there is all the thought I have to put into the actual rules of sharing. Once I've eaten what I consider to be about half, do I leave the rest for the other person, even if they don't appear to be particularly interested in eating it? If I do leave half, how long should I wait before asking if it's okay to finish it off? Should I even ask at all, or just keep eating until it's gone and let them deal with the consequences of their poor decision to share with me? And what was that interesting thing someone just said? I was far too distracted by my dessert sharing conundrum to pay attention to the conversation at hand. I'd rather just give them some of my own dessert than deal with the angst of sharing. The other thing I don't really want to do in a restaurant is cook my own food. Things like Korean barbecue always seem like a good idea at the time, but it's never particularly fun or satisfying in the end. Eating out is about having someone else do the cooking (and the washing up, for that matter), I don't really get the appeal of doing it for myself and paying for the privilege.

Since being on holiday for the last few weeks I've become increasingly aware that any trip out of the house almost always ends up involving food in some way, regardless of what I went out for in the first place. A visit to the hairdresser becomes a stop at my favourite cheese shop on the way home. Deciding on a movie is more about whether I should go to that theatre near the great deli or the one near that bakery than it is about which film to see. It doesn't matter what I'm doing, good food and where to get it is never far from my mind. I pore over cookbooks, mostly looking at the pictures, and occasionally reading recipes for dishes I'll never cook. I have even been known to look up websites for restaurants in other cities or countries just to check out the menu and imagine what I would have if I were to eat there. And the only time I have ever "forgotten" to eat was while on holiday in New York. I was so busy gawking in wonder at everything that I had to be reminded to stop for food by my rumbling stomach. Of course it didn't take me long to figure out where to find the good stuff, which admittedly wasn't hard in New York. But for a little while there it was quite exciting to get a tiny glimpse of what it must be like to be a naturally thin person who isn't obsessed with food. It's hasn't happened before or since, but it was fun while it lasted. Well, except for the not eating part, that wasn't fun at all.