we want a band that plays loud and hard every night

When oh when will this punk rock vs. (slightly) corporate office internal battle end?

It’s sort of pathetic to be approaching your 31st birthday and still being all *woe is me, I don’t fit in* about things, but then, I haven’t felt like this until the last year of working here. And I’m not sure to what extent this is me and my set in stone punkrock set of ethics and unwillingness to compromise over certain issues, and how much of it is based around the incredibly (implicitly) sexist environment in which I now work.

I’m really beginning to think that there are no good *grown ups* in the world. Anyone in any kind of position of haha, authority, above middle management hasn’t got there by treating people with respect, or honouring things they have promised. I don’t get it, like Seth Tobocman said, you don’t have to fuck people over to survive.

Why is doing your job well less important than playing the game, and how come they’re no longer mutually exclusive? What is more important, making more money and catering to the lowest common denominator, or creating something awesome that will ultimately last longer, be more rewarding and allow you to look at yourself in the mirror without wanting to claw your own eyes out?

Wow. I’m even angstier than I thought today, I hope this is just fallout from Mars in Virgo and I’m not regressing to the state of teenage anarchopunk.

"it's physically impossible for me to get happy"

I was re-reading Don’t You Forget About Me in the bath. It’s a book of essays on John Hughes movies. It got me to reminiscing, so I found Sixteen Candles and watched it.

Even at thirty it still resonates, maybe not as loud as it did way back when I was an actual teen, but the basic empathy is pretty much the same. It’s put me on an 80s trip, and I’m sitting here waiting for The Sure Thing to finish downloading as I type this.

I think the major difference between viewing Hughes movies as a kid and as an adult, is as a kid you whole-heartedly believe that your life is going to turn out that way, no question of a doubt.Things will be sorted, you’ll never have to question your own character and you’ll also fall in proper fairy tale love. As an adult, you feel a little let down that it didn’t work out that way, yet you’re still sort of naively hoping that at some stage soon your Hughes-esque reality will reveal itself, and then everything will be okay. You’ll just be happy.

I understand about the socio-economic factors, I know my Reaganite cinema, I know about the birth of the teen movie and what it’s function was, but knowing all of this doesn’t make me not want to believe it can be real.

That’s why John Hughes is a genius.

Okay enough, I’m starting to miss the boy who dances like John Cusack in Sixteen Candles.

so this is the new year, and I don't feel any different.

I go back to work tomorrow. I’m sort of looking forward to it. Not that I haven’t enjoyed this endless laying around, watching movies, being awesome, being happy, not leaving the room unless it’s entirely necessary vibe. But it lacked definition, you know? All the days blurred into one. And I’ve always been one of the more productive members of my social group.

Hot water works again, baths truly are tremendous. Spent the day lazing and maintaining, all ready for the first working day of 2008. In between the pop punk listening sessions.

Boy is off getting colour done, so I’m having a little lone time, wondering how I can possibly be so sleepy at 8pm, and waiting for Helvetica to be ready for my ipod.

2008 seems like the future, huh? It was 8 whole years ago that the millennium was looming, it’s all a bit like, wow. Time flies etc.

I did wake up this morning and feel sort of bummed about another year here in the UK. It really is reaching an all time social low. Or maybe I’m just in my thirties. Having someone to stay in with, makes life much, MUCH better, but still. Grown up punks, where art thou?

There are a million shows this month, I’m all jazzed about Zombina in a couple of weeks, and the boy is super-stoked on Bob Mould.

I wish I was going to Sundance. Not to support Patrick (although I would) but ‘cos I want to see how the adaptation of Choke turned out.

Anyhow, I still have time to squeeze in a movie before bed, so I’m going.

stop take some time to think – figure out what's important to you

Seriously Mercury, enough already. It’s been an emotionally tumultuous couple of weeks. In e-v-e-r-y which way.

Have decided to move out and find a one bed – I’ve always been highly dubious of people living in shared houses in their 30’s. Also, I hate the crazies that live here. I want to move back to Stokey, go back to shopping at Fresh and Wild and yoga at Abney Hall. It’d be an awesome solution if I didn’t want to get the fuck out of London. Saving for NY is gonna be harder this way but I don’t think I have another option.

It feels like there are almost no females in my life at the moment, with the exception of Jo. It’s curious. I’m far more comfortable around men (it was difficult not to write boys then, but I guess those days are over) for longer periods of time. Women just don’t like geeking out on trivia the way men do. On the phone to Jo this evening she disclosed that most girls will just find the best available thing in any given situation, regardless as to whether or not this is the right thing for them. I apparently do not do this. If what I want isn’t available I just go home and order it online. Ha.

I went for coffee with someone I was once in love with yesterday. It was interesting. I learned some things I didn’t know, was kind of weirded out by how time genuinely does make everything okay, and felt sort of good in a weird way about it.

I don’t know what to do about NY. I don’t know whether to just say fuck it, and go after Xmas, or whether to actually try and plan everything out, the way I love to. Why is it so hard? They should just give me a quiz, figure out how much better I’d be if I was there, and then let me move. I don’t really want to get married you know?

I have decided to not think too hard about anything this week, and try and take it easy and maybe the solution will just appear. Mercury and Neptune both stop being retrograde this week, and Neptune’s sort of a biggie. Outer planets and all that.

My copy deadline for my new astrology job is next monday.

Lizzy is cutting my hair tomorrow, I’m going to see 30 days of night on Halloween, Against Me! the day after, and Sivan and Karen are in town this weekend.

Busy.

Also, the fall schedule is really cutting out on the amount of time I can spend out of the house. Tell me you love me, is still awesome and we’ve hit midseason. Californication has it’s season finale next week, Gossip Girl becomes more watchable weekly, and Heroes has a storyline again. Oh yeah, and Dexter = just plain awesome, and the English ex junkie chick is completely growing on me. So much less irritating than whiny Rita.

It’s those little things that fuck me up the most.

I didn’t go see Kevin Devine and Chin Up Chin Up tonight. I thought it might have made me worse. Yesterdays good mood completely evaporated by the time I got to the office.

I (eventually) finished Jpod today, and although I didn’t like it very much, and it felt contrived and wrong and like it was written to be broadcast by the people behind chuck at NBC, I was still sad that it was over, fictional friends are always harder to let go than real life ones. And it’s not just that these characters are percet, for I am a big fan of character flaws, in you know, characters. In real life people they tend to leave a bad taste in my mouth. Not least of all mine.
Why don’t the people i work with exhibit any fun geeky couplandesque qualities. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to live in Microserfs. Then I could partake in the breakfast cereals decadence conversation, and it would be the 90s. And everything would feel slightly less hopeless, and not so old.
I am getting better at being okay with realising I really can only rely on myself. People schmeople.
Today has been confusing.

Fucking solar eclipse in Virgo.

I don’t like not being in control of other peoples perception of me. I’m re-reading pretty in punk to try and make some sense of this. I think I need a punk rock therapist. I really don’t think that you can figure me out, without at least a slight pop-cultural frame of reference. It can’t all be as basic and Freudian as first assumed eh?

It’s 10 days tomorrow, til I turn 30. I’ve mostly stopped freaking about it, I don’t think I’ll stop beating myself up about the things I feel I should’ve done though. Fixing me is hard work.

But for now, I guess I’ll just sit here and listen to Jim Yoshii and think it all out.