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That was what was
Dec. 22nd, 2009 12:51 pmI started thinking about the end of the (excuse me) "noughties" last night. Then a comment by Lis set me thinking about something else: I met Lis via two people who verily made my life hell, but it was worth it, because without that, I wouldn't have met Lis, and that would suck.
So it hasn't been that bad for a decade which started with me getting dumped. We've all been through our hells, though. It's not a competition, it's just that life's like that. I've tried to take some positives from all of them, and mostly they're the people I got to know through knowing other people who turned out to be really rather awful.
I ended up with an adopted big brother through being bullied relentlessly, I TWICE got involved with fandom and that was more than enough, because fandom is every bit as stupid and petty as you've heard and okay, usually it's just people fighting online but pick the wrong one and you'll end up with people taking it into real life... but I found some utter gems in there and we're still friends even after it went to shit, my dad fucked off but that allowed me to see that I wasn't as evil as he always said I was, and so on and so forth.
There are other good things: I found out that people can say it's cool and the way forward and if you don't like it you're just too traditional and therefore BORING but polyamory isn't actually a very good idea. And yeah, it hurt like 29 hells at the time but now I KNOW.
I went to music festivals and discovered I don't really like those very much, either, but this was the decade where I found all the good music. I can't do a Best Of list because it's just too bloody hard, in light of that. For a start, my favourite stuff would probably things that came out in the 80s and 90s, but that I was either too young or never in the right place to hear. My first proper boyfriend was a hateful piece of work, but at least he gave me Tori Amos and The Wildhearts before he buggered off.
The other thing I was doing at the start of this decade was still writing about music for the newspaper, and now I really don't know how. Me before the age of 18 feels like a terrible thing, like a void of personality. For one thing, I liked bands with guitars but hated "pop" music, built my writing off that, and look back now and feel a bit silly. I fucking love pop music now (see: obsession with Girls Aloud), but I suppose that's part of growing up; realising you got it wrong.
Younger Me was a bit rubbish, really. I just hated stuff but didn't have opinions of my own in case other people hated me for them. It feels like I've spent the entire decade finding opinions and a personality and, well, How To Be A Person. There may be perfectly good reasons why I was a blank thing before, but that's not for here. It does feel like it's taken far too long for me to be something or someone who's not just a blank.
I never went back to writing. I lost faith, and I've never regained it, in my ability to be any good at it. This is why I don't blog even though I'd love to; I leave that to people who know what they're writing about, and who write because of the love of writing.
So there was that, too: I wanted to be a writer and picked a degree based on that. Picked totally wrongly, as well. University was a massive mistake which left me with no confidence in anything, instead of what it should be - a place where you learn what you can do. So I still don't know what I'm going to do. I know what I want to do now (something in psychology), but no idea how to do it.
Then there was (ice) hockey. Oh, hockey. Life before hockey was a bit dull, really. Life after hockey was a bit dull for everyone else as they had to listen to me going EEEEEE about it forever. That one was a big deal, though; not only was it the first time I ever cared about sport (and it's still the only sport I'll go out of my way for - there are others I like now but they'll never match it), but it was the right thing at the right time: before it I pretty much wasn't having any fun and I still wasn't getting on with finding out who I was.
Then hockey happened, and with it, the discovery of heroes and villains and idiots and superstars and something, basically, as good as music: there's hearing a song for the first time that gives you chills and there's then singing along at a gig with a bunch of other mad bastards at the top of your lungs. And there's willing a team on with a load of other people and then cheering yourself hoarse when there's a goal, or a last minute win, or a goal scored with seven seconds to go in the playoffs (I'll never forget that feeling).
Things that make you feel alive, basically. Which brings us to the last big thing. Comedy.
Comedy was a nice distraction until I started falling into it loads more, and if you asked me where the tipping point was I wouldn't really know: just that of the three things I love that are often best appreciated live, comedy's my favourite to see in person. There are comedy gigs that play in arenas but no such thing as a comedy act made for an arena, as far as I'm concerned. There are bands who rock that setting and thrive in it, but comedy truly is meant for halls and theatres and rooms in Edinburgh with about fifty seats and you get the point.
The first time I went to the Edinburgh fringe a comedian deeply offended me, a comedian I now love enormously. But I had to go away and think about why I was offended. There was little else I could do about it, and I had to see them again in a day or two. And then something clicked: it was about an issue that will always be horribly personal to me, but that I might actually heal a little if I learned to stop being so uptight about. Take an utterly absurd comedy sketch. Be puzzled for a second. Laugh. Learn, from that, that you still can laugh despite what happened to you.
And realise that all that bad stuff didn't kill you, or leave you incapable of feeling.
The things you love save lives. The people you love save lives. It's really really hard for someone to actually break you. And you can get good things from even the very worst of times.
That is what I learned. Even my dad did something right: it was his idea to get a cat, so I ended up adopting a monster. Yay for monsters.
Thank you, to everyone who's still with me.
So it hasn't been that bad for a decade which started with me getting dumped. We've all been through our hells, though. It's not a competition, it's just that life's like that. I've tried to take some positives from all of them, and mostly they're the people I got to know through knowing other people who turned out to be really rather awful.
I ended up with an adopted big brother through being bullied relentlessly, I TWICE got involved with fandom and that was more than enough, because fandom is every bit as stupid and petty as you've heard and okay, usually it's just people fighting online but pick the wrong one and you'll end up with people taking it into real life... but I found some utter gems in there and we're still friends even after it went to shit, my dad fucked off but that allowed me to see that I wasn't as evil as he always said I was, and so on and so forth.
There are other good things: I found out that people can say it's cool and the way forward and if you don't like it you're just too traditional and therefore BORING but polyamory isn't actually a very good idea. And yeah, it hurt like 29 hells at the time but now I KNOW.
I went to music festivals and discovered I don't really like those very much, either, but this was the decade where I found all the good music. I can't do a Best Of list because it's just too bloody hard, in light of that. For a start, my favourite stuff would probably things that came out in the 80s and 90s, but that I was either too young or never in the right place to hear. My first proper boyfriend was a hateful piece of work, but at least he gave me Tori Amos and The Wildhearts before he buggered off.
The other thing I was doing at the start of this decade was still writing about music for the newspaper, and now I really don't know how. Me before the age of 18 feels like a terrible thing, like a void of personality. For one thing, I liked bands with guitars but hated "pop" music, built my writing off that, and look back now and feel a bit silly. I fucking love pop music now (see: obsession with Girls Aloud), but I suppose that's part of growing up; realising you got it wrong.
Younger Me was a bit rubbish, really. I just hated stuff but didn't have opinions of my own in case other people hated me for them. It feels like I've spent the entire decade finding opinions and a personality and, well, How To Be A Person. There may be perfectly good reasons why I was a blank thing before, but that's not for here. It does feel like it's taken far too long for me to be something or someone who's not just a blank.
I never went back to writing. I lost faith, and I've never regained it, in my ability to be any good at it. This is why I don't blog even though I'd love to; I leave that to people who know what they're writing about, and who write because of the love of writing.
So there was that, too: I wanted to be a writer and picked a degree based on that. Picked totally wrongly, as well. University was a massive mistake which left me with no confidence in anything, instead of what it should be - a place where you learn what you can do. So I still don't know what I'm going to do. I know what I want to do now (something in psychology), but no idea how to do it.
Then there was (ice) hockey. Oh, hockey. Life before hockey was a bit dull, really. Life after hockey was a bit dull for everyone else as they had to listen to me going EEEEEE about it forever. That one was a big deal, though; not only was it the first time I ever cared about sport (and it's still the only sport I'll go out of my way for - there are others I like now but they'll never match it), but it was the right thing at the right time: before it I pretty much wasn't having any fun and I still wasn't getting on with finding out who I was.
Then hockey happened, and with it, the discovery of heroes and villains and idiots and superstars and something, basically, as good as music: there's hearing a song for the first time that gives you chills and there's then singing along at a gig with a bunch of other mad bastards at the top of your lungs. And there's willing a team on with a load of other people and then cheering yourself hoarse when there's a goal, or a last minute win, or a goal scored with seven seconds to go in the playoffs (I'll never forget that feeling).
Things that make you feel alive, basically. Which brings us to the last big thing. Comedy.
Comedy was a nice distraction until I started falling into it loads more, and if you asked me where the tipping point was I wouldn't really know: just that of the three things I love that are often best appreciated live, comedy's my favourite to see in person. There are comedy gigs that play in arenas but no such thing as a comedy act made for an arena, as far as I'm concerned. There are bands who rock that setting and thrive in it, but comedy truly is meant for halls and theatres and rooms in Edinburgh with about fifty seats and you get the point.
The first time I went to the Edinburgh fringe a comedian deeply offended me, a comedian I now love enormously. But I had to go away and think about why I was offended. There was little else I could do about it, and I had to see them again in a day or two. And then something clicked: it was about an issue that will always be horribly personal to me, but that I might actually heal a little if I learned to stop being so uptight about. Take an utterly absurd comedy sketch. Be puzzled for a second. Laugh. Learn, from that, that you still can laugh despite what happened to you.
And realise that all that bad stuff didn't kill you, or leave you incapable of feeling.
The things you love save lives. The people you love save lives. It's really really hard for someone to actually break you. And you can get good things from even the very worst of times.
That is what I learned. Even my dad did something right: it was his idea to get a cat, so I ended up adopting a monster. Yay for monsters.
Thank you, to everyone who's still with me.
