Friday, 23 March 2012

Mellon Collie


Lately, that's how I've been feeling but I know sadness, like happiness is a frame of mind. And, I know I'll get over it eventually. Quickly is usually the goal. And, I think I've demonstrated that with my break-up.

Another tactic is usually not to have expectations. Expectations when not met leads to disappointment. On the flip side, non-existent expectations when met leads to utter enjoyment. Did you get that?

But those are just tactics and being human I'm not immune. I'm not sadness-proof and expectation free.

I've not updated lately because I've been busy. I feel like a hardworking bee (btw, I hate ants). I feel like my hard work is just hard work with no light at the end of the tunnel. Even a labourer would have a building to show off at the end of the day and he could say, "I helped build that". But, I don't feel like my hard-work is going any where. Like piling fine grains of sand on top more fine grains of sand.

My hard work feels unrewarded. Unrewarding.

Even more unrewarded when I'm constantly facing rejections.

I believe in fate and things happen for a reason but... when I'm working hard, why does rejection after rejection get thrown at me? Why now? Why this point in time?

I'm a great believer of helping myself before God helps me. I am a believer of 'if one wants something, do it one's self for results'! So, fuck it! If no one wants to reward me, lemme reward my freaking self.

And I walked down the alcohol aisle (I'm not married to alcohol). Maybe I'd buy cider although I wasn't quite in the mood for cider when...

... this caught the corner of my eye.
Imported beer from the beloved continent?! Mmmmmm, frambozenbier!!
One bottle please. Bitte eine flasche...
Ginger beer from the British isles.
Fine, I've been craving alcoholic ginger beer since that Hungarian woman refused me one last month.
I believe it's less than an euro on the continent. This exact brand.
And, whilst caressing one of these bottles, the UK has set a minimum price of 40p per unit of alkie.
Le famous Erdinger weissbier.
One bottle of each. Yes, four bottles. Some sweets. And, not much food else. Not alkie, just had seven slices of pizza for lunch.

At the counter, the lady looked at my worryingly. Called her supervisor and asked for my ID. I had no ID except for my work badge. One would think a 'professional' like myself would be deemed old, wise and responsible enough to buy four bottles of continental alcohol. Not just any alcohol but alcohol from le beloved continent. Four bottles of continental alcohol that I very much doubt the local population would thoroughly (bold, underline and highlight) relish in a responsible and pleasurable fashion. 'Cos, really, according to BBC News a bottle of £1+ and £2+ of continental beer is not the top choice to 'pre-load' before a night out...

So, I tried to help myself. I tried to reward myself. I worked hard. I tried. I freaking tried! I attempted! I didn't sit on my ass and ask for continental beer. I got up to get it myself. But, why did I meet rejection and failure once again?

Maybe it isn't my time. When, though? When?

Why can't I even have a drop of hefe weissbier bought with my own freaking money! *Flips out and throws a wade of cash into the air*

No comments:

Post a Comment