This seems to happen scarily often – I go away for a bit and come back to find that someone has tagged me… eek! This time – Erika.

This is also a very hard one to do. No structure, no leading questions – just tell five things that nobody knew before. Trouble is, all the things I’m happy to talk about I probably already have talked about – and all the things I’m not happy to talk about, well, you know what I’m saying here. Also, my mum keeps threatening to read this blog!

However, I quite like getting tagged, even though I pretend to be annoyed, so here we go!

  1. My favourite song ever is Walking on Sunshine by Katrina and the Waves. I just have to hear one quick blast and it cheers me up a thousand watts. I feel the love, I feel the love, I feel the love that’s really real… And don’t it feel good!
  2. Underneath the glib facade, I’m a total fake. You wouldn’t believe how hard I work to maintain balance, to achieve my perfectionist standards – or at least, not to miss them by too unbearably wide a margin. I do genuinely and sincerely practice self-love. I practise a lot, and after many years of practice I can say that I’m definitely getting the hang of it. I try to tell myself that it’s OK not to be perfect. But, I feel a bit like a trainee juggler. One knock, one trip, one slip, one little push of the right little button and my equilibrium can be just – gone. The lid comes off and there’s some seriously nasty stuff in there. Keep the lid on, keep practising, keep a straight face. Maybe nobody will see what’s really inside.
  3. I can play the piano. When I was 16, I passed Grade 8 and since there were no more exams I wanted to do I stopped taking lessons. I then had no reason to practice so I also pretty much stopped playing. I’ve not played more than two or three times this year, for example. Stupid – you work hard for years to get good at something and then you just pretty much stop. I’m like that. Partly it is about being goal-oriented. If I have a target, something to aim for, a concrete ambition, then I am all determination and passion to achieve it. Somewhere along the line I forget why I started doing it in the first place – in this case, it was for the joy of playing music, not for the thrill of passing exams.
  4. The more I think about it, the more I don’t really see the point of having so many men lounging about on the planet taking up space that could more usefully be used for women. I mean, individually men are usually more or less alright. I’ve got lots of male friends and whathaveyou, and I wouldn’t want them done away with. But as a gender – what are they for? They are an excessively numerous bunch of people, as far as womankind’s sperm requirements go, and I don’t see what else the world (or the human race) needs them for. Put it this way: I would not do away with a single man currently living, especially not the ones I know and love, but would it sadden me enormously if TOMORROW the birth rate suddenly switched to, say, 90% girls to 10% boys? Who would lose? Half of me genuinely would love to see this happen. The other half thinks I’m just bitter because I haven’t got a man of my own…
  5. I blog because I am utterly utterly in need of an outlet. I want to SPEAK MY MIND. In normal life, when I try to listen, it’s hopeless. I can’t help it. I interrupt. I say “Oh, yes, just the same thing happened to me” or “That reminds me of something that happened to me” or “You really wouldn’t believe it but there’s something I just have to say and it’s about ME and MY OPINIONS and I don’t actually care what you have to say because IT IS MY TURN AT THE MIC, DAMMIT.” I also check obsessively for comments because although it’s great to be able to speak, it’s better if there is somebody there (or hordes of people there) to say – I hear, I listen, and Baby, you’re the best. Yeah – sad, but true: your approval, dear readers, really ticks my tock. Especially if you’re one of the ones on which I have a big fat lovely feminist crush. Yeah, I get crushes… Don’t you? They make me want to show off. And that is why I love this blog. It’s my personal showing-off place. Wheee!

What is it about this time of year that makes a person so introspective? Why does the death of one year and the birth of another provoke this grand confessional? In my case, it certainly isn’t the sherry. Maybe it’s the time off, the space for reflection, and the fact that everyone around me seems to want to count up the dead of 2006. Sweet Mabel. Too many dead.

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