Two days ago, a person I have never met or heard of before in my life received an angry notice from Airtricity, via the ESB.
This person- a Mr. B.- has only two weeks left to pay off his four figure electricity bill in full before the service is cut off. A sad story, but none too interesting. However, it happens to be relevant to me in particular, because for reasons I can’t comprehend, Mr. B.’s unpaid-for electricity units are stacked on MY BLOODY METER, and his bills are landing on MY BLOODY DOORMAT. Therefore, after the bank holiday weekend, I will have to have some frantic conversations with Airtricity customer service representatives, because MY BLOODY LANDLORD, who is responsible under our lease for bills, finds it hard to talk on the phone while his head is buried quite so deep in the sand.
So, clearly what is worrying me most at this time of electrical uncertainty and limited grocery funds is my Blog Neurosis.
I decided to start a blog after I realised that some of my Facebook status updates were longer than some of my college essays (thankfully for my GPA, my essays are usually more succinct and concise). Also, some people did not appreciate me clogging up their news feed with the kind of bitterness more appropriate to an elderly war veteran abandoned by the government he risked his life for than a happy-go-lucky college student in her early twenties. I did direct these people to the unsubscribe button. They told me where I could put my unsubscribe button. I told them that I didn’t think a few lines of computer code could do much damage even in the most sensitive of areas unless I wrote it down and got some nasty internal paper cuts. They asked me if I had any idea why I had any friends left. I spent five minutes sulking and smoking in an aggressive manner, and mentally started work on an extra-long Facebook status. Maybe this is behaviour more typical of a thirteen year old.
So I did the done thing, went to WordPress, settled on UnhandMyThesaurus as a username (because my infundibular and gratuitous verbosity can exasperate even the most complaisant of of lecteurs) and sat down and wrote…
Nothing. My mind went blank. Fuck.
What the hell do I want this blog to be about? What is its purpose? The trials and tribulations of an a poverty stricken student? Boring, overdone. Explaining my personal and political beliefs? Grows tiresome. Realities of mental illness? Tad personal. General journalistic endeavours? Too much research, too little time. Justifying my secret, guilty love of Sherlock fanfiction? Impossible. A forum for my poems and short stories? Oh lord. I am not ready for that yet. The world does not need my angsty verses inflicted on it, it’s got enough problems, thank you very much.
So it’s going to be a little bit of everything. Think of it as an online homage to the rich tapestry of human experience- or at least the limited section of it that can be observed from the armchair of a dingy bedsit in Drumcondra.
Screw it, I’ll copy-paste this. Next week, expect a lengthy post on the many, many ways I’d to watch Mr. B suffer.