The passing of time, and all of its crimes

Contrary to my expectation that I would be completely traumatised by turning 40, I haven't given it much thought at all until recently. I hated turning 30, and the six months leading up to it where filled with way too much angst and introspection. Up until then I hadn't really cared about my age, although it seems ridiculous now to say I wasn't concerned about my age when I was young. So if turning 30 (which, in retrospect, is of course still very young with lots of potential for an exciting life ahead) was traumatic, then 40 would be devastating. But you know, two months out, not so much. Surely I should be panicking by now? But apart from the occasional fleeting feeling that my youth has passed me by, I'm pretty much indifferent about it.

I think my temperament is much more suited to middle age, I always felt like a bit of a failure at being young. Sadly, my wild and crazy youth was never particularly wild or crazy. I wasn't into clubbing or boozing, and I didn't like parties even then. I travelled the world on nice buses and trains and stayed in hotels and with relatives. I skipped the backpacking and the year of sharing a house with 23 other Australians in London. I do sometimes wish I hadn't been quite so sensible, I'd kind of like to be able to look back fondly on a misspent youth. But when I think of the things I wish I'd done, and remind myself that it's actually not too late for a lot of them, I remember that I never really wanted to do those things in the first place. And some of the things that made me feel like a freak when I was younger aren't such an issue anymore. It seems a lot more acceptable to be single at 40 than at 30, for example. At some point I must have crossed over into "left on the shelf" territory, because elderly relatives, friends of friends and other people who don't know me very well no longer bombard me with questions about potential husbands, which is fine by me! I learned very quickly that trying to explain that I was perfectly happy being single and not overly fussed about the whole marriage and babies thing was not a helpful tactic. They would often either pity me (because clearly I'm only saying that to cover up for my sad and lonely spinsterhood) or become defensive, as if it was some kind of attack on married people everywhere rather than just my own personal preference. It was easier to just accept sympathetic comments and deflect attempted set-ups until I could wrangle my way out of the conversation. Now we just don't have the conversation at all, which is so much nicer.

I'm genuinely hoping for a midlife crisis of some sort. Not a big one, nothing too dramatic or painful, just a little change would be nice. Maybe an urge to change jobs, study, travel or...I don't know, something. Although if I'm not feeling those things now I can't imagine they're going to just hit me suddenly, but you never know. I did consider a tattoo for a while, that seems appropriately midlife crisis-y, but decided pretty quickly that if I was unsure about it then I really shouldn't. I didn't want to do something I'd later regret, which seems appropriate as that's pretty much how I've lived my life until now. Now I can even say I like that about myself, and it's nice to know that some things will never change, no matter how old I am.

No offence, but you'd have to be stupid to read this blog.

Why do people think that saying "no offence" immediately before or after saying something offensive somehow negates the offensiveness of what they're saying? It seems to be treated as some sort of get out of jail free card - you can say whatever you like because you've played the "no offence" card first. And if the recipient is offended then they're just being a bad sport, I guess. It seems to me that it's really just a way to insult people and feel like you're getting away with it. I reckon the rule should be if you feel the need to start a sentence with "No offence, but..." then it's probably safe to assume that you shouldn't be saying it at all. And if you've thought about it enough to preface it with the "no offence" tag, then you have no excuse. I understand speaking without thinking, I do it a lot more than I'd care to admit, but if you know before hand that it's going to be offensive, insulting or hurtful, then you should know not to say it all. Unless of course you actually intend to cause offence, in which case I would say don't make excuses for yourself. Stand proud in your offensiveness instead of cowering behind an insincere "no offence" defence.

There is also a smaller sub-group of people closely related to the "no offence" types, but much worse in my opinion. The "I just have to say what I think" people. Or maybe they're "I'm just being honest" people. Or "I have a right to speak my mind" people. Man, I hate all those people! I've known a few of them in my time, and they never cease to offend and insult as often as possible. It's quite a gift, I reckon. And they have an opinion on everything, whether it affects them or not. They don't like your shirt. Or your haircut. They'll tell you what your "problem" is when you didn't even know you had one. It's like they never grew out of that childhood phase of saying the first thing that comes to mind, and being seemingly oblivious to the hurt they cause along the way. As much as we might say we appreciate honesty, I think most people know when it's appropriate to be completely honest and when it's kinder to keep an opinion to yourself, so it's always a bit of a surprise when you meet those brutally "honest" types who insist on constantly giving their opinion, whether it's appreciated or not. And they continually get away with it because people like me won't call them out on their insults because I don't want to offend them by pointing out that they're being offensive.

Perhaps I'm being too harsh. Maybe these people just lack the ability to filter what comes out of their mouths, so don't get why some things are okay to say and some things aren't. Maybe not everyone is as stupidly introspective as I am, therefore do the majority of their thinking out loud. I'm tired of pretending it's okay to be insulted by people who obviously know they're being insulting, but I also kind of pity their inability to stop themselves being offensive. I'd like to think I'll be brave enough to tell them that next time someone tries to “no offence“ me. I just hope they don't take offence.

The art of small talk

You know that person at a party or event of some sort who's standing in the corner, not making eye contact and looking scared and like they would rather be anywhere else but there? The one you might take pity on and try to strike up a conversation with, only to find that they give you one word answers and seem painfully awkward and possibly a little simple? The one that makes you regret ever attempting to engage them in conversation at all and will make you think twice before ever doing it again? Yeah, that's me. Sorry. It's not that I don't want someone to talk to me, I would love it, and I really do appreciate the effort, it's just that I am incapable of making small talk. I can converse quite easily on a subject that interests me and that I feel confident about, I just can't do awkward chit chat. And it's always awkward with me. It's the talk about nothing much that trips me up, if only we could skip the getting to know you chat and just get down to the important stuff I'd be fine. Music? Of course! Reality television? No problem! Politics? Yes indeed, although I can get a little ranty so I wouldn't inflict that on just anyone.

I feel like there are unspoken rules when it comes to making conversation with strangers, and I'm so fearful of breaking them that I'd rather not take the risk. Oh, I'm sure it's easy when you're a confident conversationalist, but if you're someone like me who has no natural getting-to-know-you skills it's a minefield! I never feel comfortable asking personal questions, how can I know I'm not stepping over some invisible boundary? And I hate being asked questions about myself because I don't feel like I have anything much to say. Occasionally I attempt to pass myself off as enigmatic in the hope that will make me seem more interesting than I am, but the truth is I’m just not particularly interesting at all. So if I can’t ask them about themselves and I can’t talk to them about myself, what else is there? The weather can be covered pretty quickly, and once the stilted conversation about the actual event is out of the way I’m just lost. I also have a tendency to imagine an entire conversation in my head before the poor person even opens their mouth, so by the time they do actually speak I'm already terrified. I don't even want to mention the blushing, stammering and excessive perspiration. Really, who would want to talk to me in that state anyway?

It was my dream to be a witty conversationalist, someone who could charm a room with my fabulously entertaining anecdotes and sparkling personality, but I accept that I'm never going to be that person. That's okay, I'm actually pretty good at the conversation part with people I already know, even if it does take me a ridiculously long time to actually get to know them. And there are advantages to being the wallflower, mainly that after experiencing my non-party personality people rarely invite me to them anymore, which is just the way I like it!

Communicationally incompatible

When did mobile phones become the main source of communication? I pretty much only communicate with my friends via text message these days, and I hate it. I never got the knack of texting, I'm forever pushing buttons one too many times and having to go through all the options again to find the letter I want. I can't even do 'text speak' because I spend more time thinking of what the shortened version should be than I would just typing the out the whole word. And I have a tendency to be overly wordy anyway, so fitting what I really want to say into the tiny number of characters I have for a text is a long and painful process. Others seem to do it so easily, and I always feel pressured to answer quickly, not that I usually see messages right away anyway. I tend to only take the phone out of my bag to use it, otherwise I check it maybe once a day if I remember. I don't carry it around with me at work or at home, so if I'm not in the room when the message comes through it could easily be a day or two before I read it. And it annoys me that text messages apparently give us permission to ignore the normal rules of politeness. I have an almost pathological need to be polite, and having to condense everything I want to say into short, sharp sentences seems so abrupt and impersonal. Last week I sent a long message that ended with a question, and the only reply I got was 'Y'. That was it, one letter. I assume it stood for 'yes' but it could also have meant 'why'. It's hard not to feel a little put out that someone won't even take the time to tap out an entire three letter word, whichever one it is. And even though I've told people that reception at my house is terrible, and I know they have my home and work numbers, most people will still only call on the mobile. Then I have to either run out to the backyard to find that small spot where I get decent reception, or stand on the footpath to take the call. I still feel faintly embarrassed talking on the phone in public anyway, so I'm really not keen to subject the entire street to my inane one-way conversation.

What was wrong with email? Hardly anyone emails me anymore. I can be as wordy as I like in an email, and I can spell check. (I'm obsessed with spell checking! I love that I can automatically spell check everything I write online. It just annoys me that it doesn't correct grammar as well, I'm horrified when I discover I've used an apostrophe where there shouldn't be one or the wrong there/their/they're. And I know 'communicationally' is not a real word, my spell checker told me.) I can use whole words and proper punctuation, and I can be polite and make chit chat in an email. There's no room for polite conversation in a text, no 'how are you', no talk of family or work or what you've been doing. I miss that. Texts are all business and very little friendliness. Email is much more civilised, in my opinion. I know you can send texts as emails and emails as texts these days, but that just seems even more complicated to me. It's hard not to think communication was easier when the only options were mail and telephone. Now it's great to have choices, but it's really just another way to make me feel incompatible with just about everyone else.

Hello, my name is Sandra.

I've never been comfortable with being called Sandy. I've always thought of her as a cute, perky blonde girl, and I am none of those things. Although I have no problem with other people called Sandy. I don't hate the name itself, I just hate it for me. And no one calls me Sandy. No one except for the occasional complete stranger, who's just been introduced to me as Sandra, but assumes they can call me Sandy instead. This leaves me in the uncomfortable position of either putting up with something I hate or having to correct them, which then leaves everyone feeling a little awkward and me sounding boring and formal. I don't know if it's that some people just shorten everyone's name, or if they think that's what my friends must call me so they automatically jump from having just met me to being BFFs. I wouldn't even mind if they asked if they could call me Sandy, but they rarely do. And if I do attempt to politely correct them, which I only really do if I know I'm going to see them again, they often seem vaguely offended by it. I don't understand that, either. Surely I'm the one who gets to choose what I want to be called? Of course when this comes up in conversation and I mention that I don't like it, there's always that one person who thinks it's funny to say 'Oh, don't you like to be called Sandy, Sandy? Why not Sandy? What's wrong Sandy? Don't you like that Sandy?' Hilarious.

I'm not even sure why it bothers me so much. Maybe if I was Sandy as a child it would have stuck, but my cousins had a dog called Sandy so growing up I always thought of it as a dogs name. They actually had the dog before I was born, but my parents are Italian and I don't think it ever occurred to them that the two names were in any way connected, or at least I'd like to think they didn't intentionally name me after a dog! Then there is the Grease factor. A lifetime of people singing 'Oh Sandy baaay-beeeeeee' at me is enough to make me never, ever want to hear the song or the name again. So really, I blame John Travolta.

Procrastinators of the world unite and take over...eventually.

It is very rare that I blow my own trumpet, but I am willing to admit that I am exceptionally good at procrastinating. In fact, I would say I have it down to a fine art. I put off everything. I'm even procrastinating about writing this, I keep wandering off to listen to a song, read a blog, check a website, anything but pay attention to what I'm supposed to be doing. I've always been this way, many a Sunday afternoon was spent writing essays that I'd had weeks to complete but were due the next day, and I still do some of my best work under pressure. I see kids in the library all the time in a panic about assignments that are due tomorrow which they've only just decided to start. I understand them, although I do occasionally attempt a lame lecture about not waiting until the last minute and that's why all the books are out, my heart's not really in it. Of course the internet makes it a lot easier than it was back in my day, procrastinating kids today don't know how good they've got it.

I procrastinate about the same things over and over again. Every year I tell myself I'll get my taxes out of the way early, and every year I'm rushing to get them done in the last week. I never get petrol unless I'm about to run out, which is almost always late in the week when the prices are higher. I pay bills on the last day they're due. I will only restock stuff when it's actually run out, even if it means being inconvenienced by going without. I never bother to put laundry away because by the time I get around to it, it's time to wear it again. To go with it, I hate the thought of being late with anything, so bills never get paid past the due date and taxes are always done by the deadline, I just wait until the last possible minute to do it on time. My favourite thing is when I've put something off so long, it no longer needs doing.  Just think of all the time I've saved not doing stuff that didn't really need to be done after all!

21st century hermit

I have just had a couple of weeks off work and it's disturbing how easily the days went by without me doing very much with them at all. I had planned to do all sorts of things - shopping, movies, visit friends, maybe go to an art gallery or museum - but I did barely anything besides read, surf the net and watch television. I joke about becoming a hermit, but I really am getting dangerously close to it. I blame the internet, it's given me much less reason to leave the house. As well as having the ability to download just about anything and keep in touch with just about anyone, I have also discovered the joy of buying most things online. Apart from being able to find exactly what I want without traipsing from store to store, it works for me because I am far too susceptible to suggestions from smooth talking sales people, who can easily convince me to spend more money than I had planned to or upgrade to a bigger and better whatever. I'm not assertive enough to stand my ground, and I very often come home having spent way more money than I intended on something that wasn't really what I wanted in the first place. The internet saves me from all that, and I am very good at tracking down the best deals, but it also means I have little excuse for a shopping trip anymore. And I find more and more that I just can't be arsed doing anything that takes any sort of effort. I won't go anywhere unless I know I can drive there and park easily. I'm tired of going to mediocre restaurants that require me to spend 20 minutes driving around in circles, only to still park 15 minutes walk away from where I'm going, and having to pay for the privilege. My friends know if they choose restaurants in certain suburbs then they have to be prepared to listen to me bitch and moan for 20 minutes about how hard it was to park when I finally get there. (It's a wonder I have any friends at all really, but they're surprisingly good natured about it.) And I'm glad I travelled a fair bit in my twenties, because it wouldn't happen now. As much as I'd love to see more of the world, all that planning and packing and being away from the comfortable familiarity of home puts me right off the idea. I recently caught myself saying that I can't be bothered going to concerts anymore when they're so expensive and I could just buy a CD for a fraction of the price and listen to it as often as I like - because as well as being a near-hermit, I'm also apparently turning into my parents.