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Chrissie

It’s the Freakiest Show

So, Europe have sent a probe to Mars. Bravo. We might finally discover what (if any) kind of life there is on the Red Planet.

I have mixed feelings. There’s no doubt that the possibilities are fascinating. But my feelings change when I consider the astronomical amount of money that must have been put into this project (or any project of this ilk). What could be done with that money? Research into cancer or AIDS, relief for those suffering poverty or famine… hell, it could even help to rebuild some of the tattered remnants of Iraq and ensure those who were mutilated by the skirmish receive the best of care.
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The Meaning of Life: Part 364

I had my fifth ‘mentoring’ session at the Jobcentre yesterday. The first one was back on March 19th.

At my previous appointment, two weeks ago, my mentor had been delving into ambition in a general sense. He told me he felt I was very intelligent and had a lot to offer (although, exactly what, he couldn’t specify). At one point he said, ‘Maybe you’d just like to meet Mr. Right, get married and have babies.’ (He added, ‘There’s nothing wrong with that.’) This comment amused me, really, and yet it did have something—I really don’t think I am all that ambitious per se. I’ve only genuinely realised that in the last couple of years.
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Get Me Away From Here, I’m Dying

I’ll tell you another big drawback with this house move thing. I (rather optimistically) packed up a lot of my books and music some months ago in anticipation of moving! So, of course, certain items I might have given little thought to for aeons suddenly take on a rosy, alluring glow, knowing they’re just beyond reach. Oh, I could undo the boxes (which are in the spare room), but fiddling with all that parcel tape is too depressing. So I’ll wait. And try more optimism as best I can.
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