February is the cruellest month

This line from TS Eliot's The Wasteland has haunted me since I first read it. And I kinda agree with it. I feel like I deserve a bit of good news or maybe I'm not doing enough to make good things happen. Things are fine; but I don't want things to be just fine. So I'm beginning to think it's time to shake things up a bit, start to plan new challenges and crack on. I went for a job interview the other day and they said they would let me know by the end of the week. Still no news. I don't believe in no news is good news. The whole interview process was pretty odd to tell the truth; they talked more at me than asking questions, talked over one another, to each other, debated a bit each with other. I thought they were intrigued by me, but maybe that was all wrong. And doesn't necessarily lead to a job offer! So, back to the drawing board.

I'm struggling with the fact I have a foot in two worlds at the moment - the arts and psychotherapy. I don't want to choose between them but integration is yet to happen. On that note, I'm also struggling with crippling writer's block - part of me thinks I have nothing to write, nothing to say, the other part of me has vague lines or sentences, half-cocked ideas running through my head but that's it, there's nothing concrete to work from. I'm not going to buy any more books about giving permission to myself to write or anything like that, as inspiring as they are. I just need to write!

On a more positive note, I spied a purple crocus pushing through the murky ground this morning so there are signs of life after all. Hurrah for that.

Time to get back in the habit

Blimey, it's been a while since I wrote on here. I've dropped out of the habit and life has just been rolling me along with it recently. In Surrey, the ground is still very snowy and I'm desperate for some signs of life. Just one snowdrop or daff? I feel like I've been in hibernation mode mostly - I haven't seen any theatre shows, or exhibitions or even read any books. I did go on a date though - the first one since I've been single.

And it was all slightly disappointing if I'm honest. The boy was nice enough, seemed laid-back and not neurotic or too emotionally retarded (although he has got an interesting family background that would be fascinating to dissect). But there was nothing there. He didn't stimulate me intellectually or inspire me in any way - I don't think we even had that much to say to one another. Did I find him attractive? I think so, but after being single for a year, with pretty much no significant male company during that time, it's hard to tell whether it's just my hormones kicking in or specific attraction. He text me a few times but they were all pretty vague and to be honest I didn't know what to reply to him, felt bored and thought it was best all round if I deleted the text conversation and his number with it. He hasn't been in touch since so I'm presuming that the romance is well and truly over. At least I gave it a go and he wasn't an arsehole so there's hope yet. Maybe.

In other news, I'm still making copious lists of everything I need to do and still managing to ignore those lists and find other things to distract myself. Like bad TV. America's Next Top Model and now new Shipwrecked as well as seminal viewing Come Dine With Me and repeats of Poirot. Oh dear. I think it's time to un-hibernate myself and take some control...