A bit of disjointed rambling in Rambling sane thoughts of the terminally me

Screw you monday morning.

So two of my class needed a resit on their exams for CPU tier 2. They’re now doing aforementioned exams and I’m trying to not look at them with too much vehement hate. They don’t need the stress.

It’s not so bad, really. I’m just being snarky. Usually, when training, I try to get into my class between 30-60 minutes in advance to make sure the room is clean; run any reports; re-read the training material and do the various other admin jobs that go with my main role. This usually has me in at 8am when I’m training. It’s all overtime so I don’t mind. Helps run the car.

If people need to do a B exam, however, they can’t do that during standard hours so they need to come in an hour early. This means I have to make the decision as to when I’m in. In this case that was 7am.

I’ve had a pretty busy weekend with the parents being up. Oh, did I mention? My parents came up over the weekend. It’s always amazing to see them and this time was no different but I’m sure they’ve got some surreal alcohol immunity that allows them to put away a metric fuck tonne of the stuff and then be up at 6am to go for a walk. My dad was actually up at 5 in the morning!! 5!! This would not be a problem except that I gave them my bed to sleep in so I was on the sofa sleeping when he came in and woke me up. Patricide was looking like a viable option.

So, this being the case, I was more than a little tired sunday evening and went to be around 10 only for my stupid brain to refuse to sleep for another two hours. Blast it.

Which means I’m running the weight of saturday and sunday night with not enough sleep on either and too much alcohol on one.

Fortunately monday is pretty quiet for me as most of the class stuff is Self Guided Training (meaning online work books with little input from the instructor). All I have to do is remain conscious. Good luck!

Anyways. This lass I mentioned the date with. Her name is Kathleen and we are actually going out for a second proper date. This is the first set of dates I’ve had since Charlotte and I and I thought I was nervous about date one. I was not. I was mildly bemused by date one. I am nervous about date two.

See, on date one with someone you don’t know there are two basic outcomes at the end of the date. At some point you’re going to realise if you have an interest in this person and would like to see them again. Come the end of the date you both come to the conclusion of “Yea” or “Nay”. Then, all being well, you look towards arranging date two.

Here’s where my brain starts laughing at me. It doesn’t like the idea that anyone could just accept me for me. I don’t massively get on with my brain and I don’t see why anyone else would either. So, when an attractive girl expresses a continued interest in me, one of three options present themselves.

1: She’s insane
2: I didn’t explain well enough that I’m insane
3: Somehow I managed to run through everything interesting about me in date one and now I have no follow-up.

Seriously, what do you talk about on a second date? I have no idea. I used to think I was pretty good at conversations but as I’ve gotten older I realised that wasn’t true. I’m pretty good a stream of conscious rants (hence the name of the diary) and whilst they can be occasionally amusing or indeed of interest to other people I wonder how long someone will bother listening before they want to speak. Given that these rants are usually pertaining to me and my life. Given that I’ve met this girl precisely once. Given that she will have no context for this lunatic rambling. Given all these factors how long before I’ve exhausted my brain and we descend into silence.

I was pleasantly surprised on our first date because when I mentioned the odd way in which I hold conversations she professed to having the same attitude. That normal conversations are inherently boring (what do you think of the weather?) and that they can be easily replaced with conversations about anything and everything else no matter how surreal. Hence our conversation about Santa Claus snuff porn.

For anyone else they’d just be happy to have met someone who thinks like them but “oh no” my brain couldn’t possibly allow that. As soon as I made that mental connection it responded with this little argument

“Well if she thinks like us is she having the same problem. Are we both going to run out of things to say and sit around till all the atmosphere in the room vaporises”. It then followed up with “What if she thinks of that too?”

Can you see why I can procrastinate for Britain. I swear it’s like my brain doesn’t want me to have a successful love life.

So I came to the conclusion that the best resolution to these problems is to acknowledge them and then tell them to “nut up and shut up” so I can focus on doing some productive worrying like about where to go.

Sigh. Early morning eh? I’m really looking forward to the end of the year. Still got 15 days holiday to take and I’m taking them all at once so hopefully I’ll get some reboot time and can get my head back in the game. Something I’ve been having trouble doing for a few weeks now.

Later kids.

Ramblerambleramble.