I am such a child (Part 2)

I wrote a few paragraphs and decided not to continue with this post because as I was typing the words, I felt more and more foolish and silly. I have been fighting doing this but I surrender and think I  need to get some happy pills 🙂 

I am such a child

 What you are about to read is an act of total immaturity committed by yours truly and you are totally free to say so without fear or condemnation because I totally acknowledge that it is.

I had a feeling of dread about today before it had even started. I don’t know why but I should have trusted my instincts and bailed. In some parts of France, there is a film festival going on, where you can watch films for a third of the price. So I decided to take full advantage of this and spend my whole day watching films at the cinema. Sounds like a fun day, right? Well it wasn’t.Decided to make a girlie day out of it. I planned the event with Friend1 and invited Friend2 along. The two friends have never met but I thought we will all get on fine. Friend2 couldn’t make it for the first film but joined us for the second film. Oh an important detail is that Friend1 doesn’t speak very good English, so I actually have to really work on my French with her. Friend2 speaks great English, so I have it easy, but I have to admit that I enjoy Friend1’s company more. Anyway back at the ranch, Friend2 joins us in time for the second film and luckily she got on well with Friend1.

Ok this is where my immaturity comes in. They got on too well. Off they go chatting away in very fast French, I was invisible. We went into the second film and Friend2 tells me that she is going with Friend1 to see a film that has just been previewed on the screen 20 seconds earlier and I was invited to come along with them if I wanted. Huh, WTF??? How big of you, you met 20 minutes ago and now you guys are now bosom bodies, and I was invited if I wanted. I started burning like a furnace inside. As I write this I feel even more ridiculous for my reaction but I couldn’t help myself. Then to add salt to injury, throughout the film Friend2 was leaning over to Friend1 and there were sharing mutual cinematic reactions. With appropriate gasps of ‘putain’ and ‘merde’. Friend2 was in the middle and she didn’t acknowledge me once. Again I was ashamed to admit that I was quite upset. As much as I tried to hide it, I couldn’t. Unfortunately I am not one of those people that are good at hiding their emotions. I was clearly pissed off but when asked what the problem was, I used that old trusted excuse of monthly pains. I wasn’t entirely dishonest but the pain that I was feeling was 10x more than any of that. Then we had a bit of a lunch break before the last film. Friend2 was all over Friend1, I felt like such an outsider. My little petulant voice inside was saying well they can have each other. I just couldn’t get home fast enough.

I mean I wanted them to get along, of course I did, but I wanted us all to get along. I felt sidelined and I was upset by this. I am pissed off with myself for caring so much about this, and also for not pretending that all was fine by smiling and just being chatty. I feel embarrassed at my behaviour and I wish I had more control of my emotions. I am too old to be behaving like this. You can’t control people, and I know that. But I just can’t help these feelings and I hate myself for feeling this way. Okay this next bit is going to tip the immaturity scales over………..

Women should bluff too

 In my previous job, my boss told me something very interesting. When men and women apply for a job, they tackle it differently. If the job lists 10 criterias that the applicant must fulfill, if men are able to do 6 out of the 10 things listed they still apply for it and blag their way through the other 4 that they can’t do. On the contrary if women can do the 6 out of the 10, they will not apply as they feel that they don’t fit the criteria.

I have to admit the latter scenario is typically what I would do. Firstly there is that fear that applying for that job would be a waste of time for all involved. Secondly there is another fear, a bigger fear that you might actually get that job. Which inevitably leads to you being discovered as a fraud. Everyone has probably worked in a job where there is that person that you wonder how they got their job in the first place as they are beyond incompetent. By applying for a job that we feel is over our heads, we are scared to become that person, in case we become outed as a fraud.

But a lot of guys don’t seem to feel that fear or care too much about it. They just go for it, with the attitude that if they get the job, they can learn stuff as they go along, or do some kind of crash course, self tutorial thingy. 

Recently I was offered a little side job which I was not too sure about. I asked the company to send me a sample of the sort of thing I had to do. They promptly did and I promptly shat my pants. I thought I can’t manage this. It is way too hard. But then I thought, darm it, I need the dough. I gave them a yes. Prior to starting my first assignment, I felt nausea, cotton mouth, sweaty palms et al. I couldn’t believe what I had gotten myself into. But as I set about doing it, it was less horrifying than originally thought. If the company don’t like the work, fair enough, I am not going to die from failure but I will certainly crumble from playing it safe and mediocre. But I intend on giving it a good shot.

Have made a promise to myself to try, at the very least. You never know. Now I have to go apply for the job as Vice – President of the United States, after I have found what the job entails and what sort of perks it comes with. Wish me luck 🙂

Being Home

 Coming home to visit is such a weird feeling. There are little things that I do which is funny, because I realise that I kind off now think in French. When I want to get past people, instead of saying ‘Excuse me’, I catch myself about to say ‘pardon’ and when I get served I catch myself about to say ‘merci‘ 🙂

I have to admit, I can’t see myself feeling at home, at home anymore. I feel different, I see the people differently and I must say the thought of coming back to live here does not excite me greatly. In fact it terrifies me.

I mean there are things I miss about home, like the British sense of humour. Is it me or do the French lack it? Do correct me if I am wrong. I also miss the normal stuff like Easties and Corrie and general English speaking TV but BBC and the Internet makes up for it. This post gives me a feeling of Deja vu 😉

Abby Lee’s recent post struck a chord with me because I feel the same way about where she feels at home.