In which I no longer stand alone having seagulls poo on me.
Sometimes people need reminding that they are important. Life is pretty big and crazy that we can feel like tiny outcrops of rock being hammered by the waves of live, slowly eroding us until we disappear beneath the surface.
Today Mrs G could do with remembering that, life in the last few weeks has been pretty choppy and she has felt a bit she was alone. She thinks she has a lighthouse of rejection warning ships to steer clear. Yet that’s not the case.
In fact I had a post that tells her exactly what I think of her from the archives…
Normally I don’t like to get excited about events, for if you hype it up too much you are only going to end up disappointed. Yet I have been lucky enough to have a few moments where the excitement was completely worth it.
As regular readers will know this blog veers towards the cynical more than the soppy, but please accept my apologies as the next few minutes may require your screen to be rubbed with Vaseline. On Saturday, August 18th 2012 the then Future Mrs G dropped the ‘future’ part of her name as we said our vows and got married.
It almost didn’t happen, as after the first hymn the vicar conducting the service leant towards me and said:
The Indian Ocean is 73,500,000 square kilometres and my wedding ring is about 2cm across, making it about 0.0000000000003% the size of the body of water we are staying in. So imagine how hard it would be to find if I lost said ring in the afore-mentioned ocean.
(I know there are some flaws with such an argument about finding it amongst the whole Indian Ocean as it is unlikely that I lost the ring anywhere near the Seychelles or Sri Lanka, in fact the area it could have been in was about the size of half a football pitch, but it ruins the dramatic intro).
After 30mins of snorkeling (with my factor 50 suncream and a t-shirt on) I suddenly noticed that my left ring finger was naked. Two thoughts crossed my mind, should it tell Mrs G and would she believe me. Well the answers to these are I did and she didn’t.
In which I choose someone I want to spend time on the sofa with.
I often have discussions with Mrs G about the impact each of us had had on the others lives. It tends to be one of those in depth conversations where she is on the laptop and I saving various continents from peril. It normally means that my syntax structure is determined by the blasts of lightning from my magic shaft.
The basic gist is that we compliment each other fairly well, even though we have similar tastes and interests we are still very different people in terms of our temperament. She is a humanities person where I’m the scientist, she is the loud-mouthed American and I’m the repressed Brit. Continue reading “Marrying for friendship”
In which Mrs G doesn’t let anything real scare her, but is terrified of the not real.
Once upon a time there was a girl with a very vivid imagination. She imagined that she had an amazing husband (which was true), had a beautiful daughter (which was true as well) and also did more than her fair share of the nappy changing (which was not as true). More than anything the girl like to imagine scary monsters.
It is not that she particularly liked monsters, they were scary and she was scared of them, it was that her imagination was often out of control and she would get worried about them pretend attacking her. If someone told her that her shadow was a black hole and would swallow her up then she would spend her whole time shining a light at her foot to rid her of it.
Then one day The Girl went and saw a play about ghosts.
Conversation at work recently touched on weddings, a subject that still fills me with fear. Not over the fact I did it, or the day itself, but the panics that were totally unnecessary in the run up to the big day.
I had to deal with a wedding booking situation that was so highly stressful that I was ready to call the whole shebang off. The worst thing about it all? There was no need for it.
As the then Future Mrs GeekErgoSum had yet to see the location for the wedding in August I decided to ring the reception venue we have booked to ask if we can go and have a look around when she came over to visit. Now this should have been a routine wedding booking call but turned into a test of my nerves. Below is, as far as I remember, the conversation I had (with added notes). Names and places have been changed to protect the guilty.
In which a friend is an unfriending waiting to happen.
This blog is made of stardust, it is the remains of numerous other starts at writing. One of these was Angry Fairytales, an attempt to use my creative faculties to get me out of a funk. This was caused by a combination of two factors. A Princess and a Nobber. The Princess I have resolved my issues with, but I still have never dealt with the other party.
A few people read this blog, some of those I know (Hello) and some I don’t (Hello as well), but I am pretty sure about those who never pay these missives any mind. It is not as though I am speaking to them anyway, what though if I was? What would I want to say to you?
If when you have read this you would like to hear about Mrs G’s similarly friend relates woes then you can check out her tale at Across the Wide Ocean.
In which I store my memories on the bonfire of time.
Hoarders is a programme where people who have a mental illness are paraded in front of a TV audience for us to point at like they are a Victorian freak show. The participants have normally experienced a traumatic event in their life that makes them feel unable to let go of any item that they possess. Being afraid to lose anything about their history they keep and store every memory in physical form.
I suffer from the alternate version of this, I have little sentimentality for past possessions and as a result tend to through away stuff before I should. I don’t have piles of cards or items I’ve collected from holiday. The memories of my past times are in my head, which is a worrying prospect as my recollection of my youth is terrible.
It would be easy to feel sad about this, but I am someone who does not like to live and dwell in the past. I’ve been there and it was pretty good, mostly, but I am way more excited by the future and I can’t be tripping over my memories while trying to do that.
In which I try to imagine whether it will be heads or tails.
I don’t believe in the Multiverse, it seems a bit over complicated to me. For the uninitiated the multiverse is the idea that for every decision that can be made an alternative universe is created. If you toss a coin there is one universe created for it landing heads and one for tails (not counting the one where it lands on its side and the one where you don’t catch it and it rolls under the sofa).
Let’s say you have you do a coin toss once a day, then you are creating 730 different realities a year. If everyone on the planet did the same then we are creating 5,110,000,000,000 universes a year. This is just human decisions over a coin toss, it doesn’t count the myriad of choices we make every day let alone over a lifetime.
Let’s throw a little chaos theory in while we are talking all physics.
In which I spend an evening with my favourite person.
Apparently my relationship is strange, I talk to my wife. I talk to her a lot in fact. I’m kind of surprised we still have anything to talk about considering the amount of time we’ve spent together.
It’s been very rare the moments we are not in each other’s company voluntarily. Of course there is the daytime when we are at work, but even that is not communication non gratia as we have the magic of messaging services.
That is how our relationship began and it’s what keeps us talking.