NaBloPoMo

I have been pretty...er...absent these last few weeks, it has to be said.

First, things have been busy round here (and when they haven't there has been much sleeping to catch up on). Second, I fell down the Pinterest hole and found myself "losing" hours and hours of my time "pinning" pretty, shiny things or pretty, shiny men on to one or other of my various boards. And third, I'm a lazy cow when it comes to this blog - partly because I know few people read it, partly because if I really talk about what's on my mind, it would turn into a dull (duller, I mean), dreary, woe-is-me, my-life-sucks moan-fest. And yeah, I'm not wild about THAT idea. (Even if most of it is true. My life truly SUCKS right now.).

So, when I saw this:

on Kelley's blog today, I couldn't help but smile. I've tried NaBloPoMo in the past (and even succeeded once or twice, I believe). But it really is incredibly hard for me to post every day and I think it's probably extra hassle I don't need right now.

I will be trying to post a little more often than in recent times - more than 3 times in the month, anyway - but I'm not signing myself up for the stress of having to post, when all I really want to do most evenings is lust after Gary Dourdan on CSI or watch MasterChef (French version, of course).

Accent

There's an "accent" vlog thing going round the internet right now. I've watched a few of them and find them fascinating. Now, to be fair, I'm not particularly good at identifying American accents (for me, you could summarise them as "New York", "south" and "the rest", which is pretty shameful, I admit), but the ones I've listened to just sound "American" to me, nothing more.

Now, this accent thing is pretty much like a meme - and you know I can't resist a meme! Also, I have only seen American versions of this so far, so the idea of doing a British version really appealed.

So, for your enjoyment, I now present you with Magic27's accent vlog. All I ask is that you:

a) Ignore the mess you can see behind me. I clearly didn't put much thought into this - hey, it's midnight, I'm tired! - and didn't think to tidy up (or do cosmetic tidying) behind me...

b) Also ignore my obvious ill-at-easeness - I loathe being filmed, I loathe hearing my voice (I always sound like I have a shitload of marbles in my mouth or something).

I hope you enjoy it!

How I plan to win the Nobel Prize for Physics (or something)

*blinks*
*squints at the light*
Errrr... hello? Anyone still out there?

Sorry to have been MIA for so long. Things have been kind of hectic, kind of tough of late and I just haven't found the time or energy to write here.

BUT - I have made a HUGE discovery. Yes, really.

I've figured out why the chances of me staying single for the rest of my life are so high.

It suddenly hit me, a couple of weeks ago. And the reason is so stunningly simple that I don't quite understand how I didn't figure it out before...

OK. Here goes. The Magic27 Theory of Relativity.

Back in the summer, I half-heartedly signed up to an online dating site (by which I mean that I didn't pay the subscription fee (can't afford it anyway) so can't really see the profiles I'm sent, but do get a sort of summarised version) and I get an e-mail from them every day or so, presenting 3 "likely" candidates. As I said, I don't have full access to these profiles but it doesn't matter. I just can't imagine EVER contacting (or even WANTING to contact) any of them. And a couple of weeks ago I tried to figure out why NONE of the men even vaguely appealed, even though many of them seem like perfectly nice guys.

And it's so simple - the "me" that I imagine is the "real" me isn't actually the "real" me at all. What I mean is that the online dating site is sending me the details of men who are in their 40s, guys with a sensible job and hobbies and stuff, and most of them have children, etc. And that's totally reasonable on the part of the site BECAUSE THAT (apparently) IS THE "REAL" ME (well, some of it, anyway). But in my mind (in my fantasies), that's not me AT ALL. In my mind, I'm still young (late 20s, say) and so the thought of "dating" a guy in his 40s is pretty much repellent (an exception could, of course, be made for either Johnny Depp or Pat Monahan or Jon Hamm). When I see a guy on TV, or in a film, or a magazine and think "hmm, he's cute" and start having little fantasies about this guy and me on a romantic date somewhere, the guy in question is ALWAYS a young guy.

At the same time, if I DO manage to put myself into my "real me" mindset (like if I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror, God help me), the idea of dating a guy in his 20s or early 30s is equally repellent (so young! so very, very young! and not in a good-right-for-me kind of way!).

I know it's all relative, this young-old thing. But seriously, a guy in his 40s seems sooo OLD, whereas a guy younger than me seems sooo YOUNG. And I've known for a long time that I don't really look the way I (like to) think I look, which certainly doesn't help and makes for some rather disappointing moments. I just can't seem to assimilate that I'm really, for reals, 42 years old, with 2 children (one of whom will be going to middle school next year) and a mortgage and what have you.

It's a recipe for disaster - or solitude, anyway.

S = (RM + FM)/IYOC,
where S = solitude, RM = real me, FM = fantasy me and IYOC = incompatible young-old conundrum.

But this monumental discovery might be worthy of a Nobel Prize, perhaps. And that would certainly help my increasingly dire finances (wolves at the door, people, wolves with big, sharp teeth at the door). I'll let you know if I get the call from Sweden...

Oh, and by the way, I can't believe it's a coincidence that the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe and Everything is 42 and that, right now, I'm guess how old...