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All in all, there are two types of fight.

The ones from which your friendship can recover, where daily pettiness battles with little white lies.

The ones from which your friendship can’t recover, which are the ones where one, or even both, try to gloss over something big.

I’ve had one of each type in the past week and some random thoughts appeared, more insight on my fucked up mind.

I am a difficult person. I don’t mind people who are difficult. I don’t even mind people who don’t contact me that often. I don’t mind people who can’t respect me for what I am. I do mind people who do not respect what I do.

Over the past three years, I’ve worked long and hard to establish myself as a serious blogger and a writer. I am just on the brink of that, for the first time. To see this compromised by the careless (in)action of one person who had promised to do something was beyond my acceptance capabilities. I may not be the best engineer in the world, or that much of a hard worker, but I have some goals, some things that I am passionate about and I won’t stand for them to be spat on.

If you can’t respect my work, get out of my life.

As for me being too violent when I deal with things like this? I never sugarcoated anything, why should I start now?

You’re an adult. You have friends, you have loves, you have family. You’re reaping what you’ve sown as a young one, enjoying the relationships that form the canvas of your life. Then something changes and every certitude you had flies out the window like a turtledove being let out of its cage.

Watch out for the eagles, little dove, you’re not used to being in the big open spaces.

Right now, I’m sitting in front of my computer, with work files open. Am I think about my latest technical specifications that I have to deliver next week? Nope. I’m thinking about the most recent developments in my life. Those that make me upset and those that soothe me.

I’m nursing a broken heart -although why or how it was broken remains yet to be seen, as I don’t remember a whole lot about it-, broken hopes -why I chose to trust someone to build the final step to my world is beyond me- and the sadness of seeing someone leave for a while. Right now, I’ve said everything that needed said, glossed over certain facts with certain people and don’t want to talk anymore.

On Sunday, I crossed familiar paths under the snow as it fell. It made me feel icy but so calm, as the cold fingers of the sky were brushing against my face. Then Monday, the turmoil started again and swept me away in a roar of thunder and fire.

All I want is the silence of falling snow.

You see, there’s nothing I like more than having a plan. I usually have a plan A and a plan B. Right now, I’ve run through the alphabet on plans to improve my life. I have a little problem, as it were.

If food and I were to have a Facebook relationship, it would be It’s complicated. When things go bad, I tend to stick my head in the sand fridge and gorge. Right now, things are disgustingly bad and I’ve been feeling disturbingly hungry as of late. Urgh. How am I expected to fit into The Dress if I am, at the same time, having fries for lunch and crème brûlée three times a week? Hmm?

Right. If only features much in my current thoughts. If only I had been a little more careful about people, if only I had paid a little more attention in school. If only I hadn’t picked a job which sounded like a good idea. If only the people I trust with my professional life actually took me seriously. If only I hadn’t flown to the other side of the world on a whim last year.

So what do I do now? Beats me. I’m leaving myself until Christmas to try and fix things here. Probably another plane ticket in my future. Sans return date.

And my “fattest” jeans have been relegated to weekend duty for good!

1. I admit that I am powerless over my own heart and it’s unmanageable.
2. I believe that putting 3000+ kilometers between me and my problem can restore my sanity.
3. I am going to exert my will and stop trying to analyse or understand The Situation.
4. I am making a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself. The results aren’t pretty, nor are they encouraging.
5. I admit to the world (thank god for blogs) that I am what’s wrong with my life. I know it, you know it. Move along.
6. I am entirely ready for God (aka a plastic surgeon) to remove all these defects. Except I don’t think anything can be done about my brain.
7. I humbly ask the world to leave my shortcomings alone. And my shortbread too.
8. There is not enough paper in this world for me to make a list of the people I have wronged and make amends. I’m not gonna live that long.
9. I will try to be less of a jerk and/or burden to my friends by whining constantly about my life. I have a reasonable time and been given a lot of breaks over the years.
10. I admit I was wrong to believe in Happily Ever After. It’s a fairy tale. As a scientific, I shouldn’t be so gullible.
11. Sleep will serve as meditation. More sleep = good. Works for cats.
12. Alleluia! I am cured. Now, can I fix your life for you?

Once I reach step 11, I’ll stop because Step 12 sounds moronoic. Agreed?

A quick summary of things we found down there:

• Food from the 80s
• Saranwrap from the 80s
• Old magazines from 85
• Disgusting earth
• Old cobwebs

On Saturday morning, Giraffe and I went to Ikea. 275 euros later, I had two new CD/DVD shelves, a storage unit for the basement, clear plastic boxes for storage, new lamp, new curtains… It was great. Then we went downstairs to clean the basement, which took an age. There was so much shit from when we moved from England, then when we moved back from America. It’s insane what my mother brought back! Old junk that no sane person would have brought back.

We manage to fill up the entire courtyard with stuff and all the neighbours came around to see what the hell was going on. Nosy bastards were probably wondering if I was (finally) moving out. Hah, fat chance. Now it’s gonna be non-stop partying til the wee hours of the morning at mine.

Now, the fridge has taken its rightful place in the kitchen (easy, once you remove the kitchen door before moving fridge), I’ve thrown out enough stuff to last me two or three lifetimes and have a clean, clean, CLEAN kitchen.

Today, the day ended with burgers (homemade, my secret recipe), fries and beers.

So big thanks to the 5 of them, I couldn’t have made it without them.

That egg Benedict that L had was… like a ray of sunlight on a warm winter morning. We discussed moving, shopping and of course, boys.

I had a long talk with Exar last night (all 6 hours of talk, y’know) and I’ve come to a conclusion. I can’t help who I am. I can’t help that I seem to generate a whole lot of chaos when I do certain things (mostly managerial things, tbh) and sometimes, it ends in conflict.

All I can do is hope that when push comes to a shove, my friends find it in themselves to break my fall. And really, answering “Don’t come crying to me” when things go wrong is not what I need. I know I’m trouble.