Tuesday, March 28, 2006

You know what disconcerts me?

People typing my name into Google and reaching my blog.

I am going to go through and find all the points where my first and last names appear together, and remove them.

Who is Googling me? It's more than a few people. Is it you, perhaps?

I would like people to Google me and find my website (see sidebar links).

I don't have anything to hide, and anything I really wish to remain secret, or anything too personal I obviously won't post on the Internet.

Still, it is disconcerting. I have devised a fool-proof strategy.


Dear People Who Have Arrived Here From Google,

Hello. Welcome to my blog.

If, for whatever reason, you suspect that I may not want you to read it, kindly bugger off.

I thank you.


There. That should stop it.


I have decided that I am too tired to date. Dates are tiring. I can't be bothered with it all.

It's too much work and I am too cynical at the moment. If someone really likes me I either think they must be a bit deluded, or that they don't really know me yet. If they don't like me I beat myself up. Neither is good for my state of mind.

Luckily I am going to therapy tonight so I will be a better person and emotionally available and secure and, um, chirpy in no time at all. I assume.

I think my options regarding men are as follows:

1. Ignore. Refuse all offers, declare myself a no-go area for the forseeable future. Perhaps start wearing dungarees.
2. Become a femme fatale. Go out with men, lead them on and then break their hearts. Perhaps take up smoking through a long cigarette holder and practice drumming long red fingernails on hard surfaces.
3. Look for the nearest person who will love me and rely on them for all affection and self-esteem. Do anything they ask me to, ignoring the advice of my friends. I suspect this will involve becoming very good at household chores and maybe being about seventy-million times meeker than I am. Which is not at all.
4. Sleep around.

Hmmm. Numbers two and three are definitely out. My nails are too short and I am rubbish at both household chores and being meek.

A combination of one and four, I think. I will try to draw the line at dungarees, though. Also sleeping around will be a lot trickier if I start wearing dungarees. I will refuse all offers of emotional attachments, and only sleep with people I feel nothing for.

I will explain this all in therapy tonight. I am sure my therapist will think it's a champion idea. Healthy, I think.

I am nervous about tonight. I have no idea what to expect.

I went to counselling when I was at uni, after certain horrible experiences that I had relating to someone who may or may not read this blog and who doesn't deserve to have my pain highlighted once again. The counselling was good. I loved my counsellor, she looked like Cate Blanchett and seemed to be geniunely moved by what I had to say. I hated the first few sessions, though, because I felt I had to justify why I was there. I seem to recall repeating "I'm fine, though!" in a somewhat high-pitched voice. "Sorry! I shouldn't be here, really! Because I'm fine!" And I rarely use exclamation marks, so that was odd.

That was different, though, because that was free. A service provided by the university. My CBT is not free. Not by a long way. My Dad is paying for it, because my parents want to make me better, they want me to stop cutting my arms.

It is so strange writing that. It is strange that it is true. The urge to delete it is overwhelming. I don't want you to think I do that.

I am scared she is going to ask me why I react to things like that. I'm scared she's going to ask me why I feel so scared of being hurt by the world that I have to get in there first and prove that nothing and nobody can hurt me as much as I can hurt myself.

I am scared because I'm not sure that knowing why or what triggers it will make me stop feeling so hopeless. That the solutions won't really be solutions.

The thing is that as long as I have resisted help, I have been able to console myself that there is some out there, and that it will save me. If the help doesn't work then there is nothing left but to live with it.

Which seems impossible.

So, to sum up: I am scared that therapy won't help me. I am scared that my obsessive dungaree-wearing will hinder my soon-to-be promiscuity. I don't want to go on any more dates.

Oh, and Google disconcerts me.


Anonymous Euan said...

1. I hope you have WICKED therapy. Actually slightly jealous.

2. Hope last night was a storming success. Although by the tone of your post, perhaps not.

3. Dungarees can only make a comeback if someone sets the trend. Perhaps... you?

Plus - you'll be set if you feel like scaling some scafolding or want to be a brickie.

6:21 pm

Blogger Ant said...

Good luck tonight. I guess the key is probably just to be as honest with your therapist as you are here...

And yes, somebody does have to set the dungarees trend some time - why not you? :o)

6:36 pm

Blogger hen said...

I always find dungarees on women quite appealing... must be something about the 80s or more likely there is something very very wrong with me.

I was going to make a joke about anyone seeing a therapists needs their head examined but decided against - oh no wait...

6:50 pm

Anonymous Anonymous said...

new look are selling strapless dungarees

option two sounds great, id like to do that.

i hope tonight goes well

7:19 pm

Blogger Steve said...

I'm sure there's a niche market out there for the dungaree wearing female.

8:28 pm

Blogger Huw said...

I'd agree with Ant's sentiments.

About the therapist that is. I refuse to encourage the dungarees.

May I also off my encouragement to any unwanted reader(s) to naff off?

You, unwanted reader(s)! Haven't you got bins to be going through? Clear off!

7:41 pm

Blogger zura said...

Hope it went well with the therapist! For all my carefulness online, I responded once to a message board of an author I really liked and in it I included my full name and email and website. All of which turns up very clearly when you google me. Great. Just great. My only hope is that other, more ambiguous search results will soon overtake it and that entry will slowly filter back into oblivion.

3:33 am

Anonymous Anonymous said...

as someone who has googled you: actually, there was nothing sinister about it. I came across your blog through someone else's link, found your blog fun to read, and mentally noted that you also had a website using your name (I assumed). a couple of days later I couldn't remember how I'd gotten to your blog but remembered your name. There you have it.

on the subject of dungarees, I have to say, phwoar!!, btw. But then, I'd probably say the same thing about a skirt, trousers, dress...

10:01 am

Blogger Dancinfairy said...

How on earth do strapless dungarees work?

My kind is boggling.

11:49 am

Anonymous Adrian said...

If you dungarees do you have to move to a farm, speak with a drawl, and have a piece of straw in your mouth?

As for the rest, I'm sure it will go well, and I think it's a very brave step. I do no what you mean, that when you think something might be the answer and it's not you feel lost. But I have found there are more than one answers to things, and sometimes things (like the therapy) are only half the answer, but it gives you the start to find the rest.

I think you are a lovely person, and am sure that you will find the therapy helps you find the answers you want. Don't worry about it to much, and I'm sure it will go well. If you can talk so well here, you'll be fine.

11:52 am

Blogger Lucky said...

Perhaps someone pointed this out,

option 1 + option 4 = option 2

And avoiding options 1 and 4 = option 3.


There's nothing more appealing than a no no, especially one that's sometimes a yes yes.

And not denying your sexuality and not sleeping around are the very definition of option 2.

Basically, you're mathematically or linguistically (uh...) screwed any which way. THe only answer I can see is option #5: take to wearing clown clothing and communicating only through interpretive dance. I do think this would solve all of your problems with guys.

8:18 pm

Blogger Lucky said...

Oops, I meant to say

not avoiding a relationship and not sleeping around are the very definition of option 3.

I was never good at math. Or linguistics.

OR interpretive dance for that mater. (as the author swishes gracefully away from his computer)

8:22 pm

Blogger Miss Devylish said...

You could bring back dungarees like I've brought back the word 'rad'. I have you know.

I think therapy can only help you..

I see ppl finding me by google all the time.. is it a bad thing? I feel a bit flattered when people do that to find my site..

Hugs to you girl.. hope your weekend was great!

11:50 pm


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