Critical Thinking

I wrote an entry last night. I had two comments in about 2 minutes after posting it. I was so impressed. The first comment seemed sincere and my ego was duly stoked - even though I thought it was strange there was a link in the middle of it. The second comment gave it all away - Gods, I can't believe I was so gullible.

I suppose that all people are like cats and want to have their fur stroked (regularly). This is a really clever form of marketing - directed at you personally and rubbing your belly. Shit...and I thought someone was interested in me and what I had to say!

Post-traumatic Stress

The reason I didn't write for all those months - I am the administrator of a small regional college and I had some 'difficulties' with a subordinate. It took all my energies to stay sane and keep coming back to work on a daily basis.

I controlled myself, she eventually realised that I wasn't going anywhere (I have only been here just over 12 months), that I knew what sort of games she was playing and (eventually)left. I don't think she banked on my tenacity or that I was actually smarter than her. She couldn't help herself and one day, after I had knocked off early, she read my work diary which detailed what I had been observing her doing and not doing (there was some pretty damning stuff in there).

She was as cunning as a shithouse rat but it didn't work; she knew that I knew what her manipulations were and (thank the Gods and Godesses) gave it up as a sad and sorry effort.

But I am in counselling as a consequence and have been told that it is Post-traumatic Stress Syndrome. ('Cos, bloody hell, I was stressed - I was consumed by the bloody woman and what she was doing - and not doing). Of course there is more than can be said here and more players involved than just her, all her supporters and the bleeding heart teachers.

But it is all good - work-wise - since she left. Now...I just have to get my head back where it belongs.

Still Here

I can't believe it was February when I last wrote anything here.

Well, I'm still alive and still living where I was in February. Still haven't learnt any Italian and still haven't worked out what I want to be when I grow up. Maybe next year, when I'm 45, I'll know.

The Police Station is now a climatically inappropriate, non-self-sustaining brick thing with bright neon lights declaring what it is like a MacDonalds. It's ugly but I suppose its father (it has to be a man who designed it) loves it.

It's getting hot already. But the Mangoes will be here soon and that makes up for it.