New Digs

I’ve moved on over to Blogger. I watched a video outlining their plans for the blogging service over the next year and some of the new features look too good to pass up.

Bubye WordPress.

Hello neverdonothing.blogspot.com.

That is all.

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The Piercing

On Saturday I got my ear pierced. It’s probably safe to say that this was out of character for me. I have been thinking about it for some time but only really worked up the courage to do so when I was in town with friends, one of whom was having her nose pierced.

So we found the place and paid our money and waited for around 30 minutes and then I was suddenly sitting on a wooden side board in a tiny room holding my friend’s hand while some guy shoved a needle through the cartilage at the top of my ear. The pain wasn’t unbearable; enough to squeeze my friend’s hand but not enough to contort in pain, and it was over pretty quickly. It was sore afterwards but kind of subsided into a dull pain that I easily forgot about.

I had been asked if I wanted a ring or a stud, and in my prior daydreams I had imagined a ring, so that’s what I said. When I got home I realised I didn’t really like the ring and really wanted a plain ball stud, black or matt silver. Today at uni I was so self-conscious that I had this accessory stuck to my ear that I didn’t really like and literally had no way to disguise, I ended up going into town and buying a black stud.

I know I wasn’t supposed to take the existing ring out for at least 6 weeks. However I’d been able to rotate the ring and slide it around within the hole in my ear, and so I guessed that sliding it off and sliding something else inside wouldn’t be much different. I basically convinced myself that I was the exception to this 6-week rule and that if I went against the advice of literally everyone else that I’d asked and did it myself, then it would be fine.

I got the ring out successfully, which resulted in a lot of blood. Blood isn’t really something I’m too keen on, especially when it’s my own, and so this made me feel a bit queasy but in recent months I’ve experienced much worse and so it didn’t bother me all that much.

I picked up the new stud and then realised my dilemma. I had my left ear pierced. I’m right handed. Trying to co-ordinate my limbs in a mirror is hard enough when it’s my right hand, let alone my left one. Because of how the stud needed to be inserted (through the back of my ear so it poked out the front, and then the ball was screwed on) I basically had no chance in hell of being able to do it when there wasn’t a distinct hole to feel around for and poke inside. All there was was a bloody gap. I gave up on this and decided to put the ring back in (the insertion process being easier as a more of a hooking technique) and just follow advice and leave it in for six weeks.

This didn’t work either. I couldn’t even find the hole with the ring. I couldn’t see what I was doing. It hurt. There was blood. The whole setup was so ridiculous that I ended up giving up. I now have a hole in my ear which will heal over in 6 weeks with nothing poking through.

I’d say two of my worst qualities are impatience and stubbornness, which, combined in this case lead to a painful process, spending £20 and having a scar on my ear for 6 weeks for nothing. I feel like such an idiot. Why could I not just wait and follow the advice of trained professionals? Why did I feel that the rules didn’t apply to me? Why do I have to be so arrogant?

The following is what happened inside my head immediately following these events.

I suppose it’s not exactly for nothing. I have learned what it looks like and I realised I don’t like it with a ring. I suppose I’ll never know how it looks with a stud, which I was really excited about, but that’s okay. I actually feel much more comfortable in myself without a piece of metal in my ear. To be honest I was going to take it out when I started to go for interviews for jobs anyway as I wouldn’t want to wear an earring in a professional environment because of how people would see me. If I have hopes of working in a consultancy I don’t want to not be assigned a project because my boss is worried about the impression I’ll make on clients. All in all it’s probably better that I don’t have it, since I’ll only get rid of it at some point. Plus I was never going to have it in past my mid-twenties and considering that this period of time is a fraction of my entire life it’s hardly worth having a visible hole in my ear for the rest of it.

Does it count as denial if I’m aware that all I’m doing is trying to justify that the circumstances that I have been lumped with by my own doing are the most preferable circumstances anyway?

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Nerds

Once, I was on a train, and I saw two guys around my age or younger sitting on the pair of seats opposite mine. Greasy hair, massive trainers, band t-shirts and glasses. They were hunched over a laptop, giggling to themselves. I wondered what the fuss was about, so I tried to sneak a peek at what was on the screen. I subtly extended my neck in an attempt to catch a glimpse and fortunately one of them moved in such a way that I saw it.

Chess.

They were playing chess, on the computer, against each other. I honestly couldn’t think of one plausible reason why a game of chess would be particularly funny.

Now, there is a word that one can use in situations like this to describe this type of person: nerd. Geek, loser, dork, whichever. It is generally acceptable to use this general term to describe all kinds of people for whom it seems appropriate. And, I’m not going to lie, this is the word that immediately came to my mind at the time. But I instantly nipped this train of thought in the bud and attempted to justify their nerdiness.

It’s not that nerdy to laugh at a game of chess. I suppose one could be funny, given the right circumstances. Maybe there was a glitch in the program, or one of them keeps making stupid moves, or one of them is on an unexpected winning streak. Maybe one of them is actually retarded.

I don’t know why I did this. I couldn’t seem to simply off-handedly call these guys nerds; I had to back them up, for some reason. Why? Anyone else my age would just laugh it off and internally use the appropriate derogatory term. Anyone else my age would have just been relaxed and nonchalant, not giving a care in the world about the two nerds sat opposite them, and five seconds later would be engaged in whatever topic sprang to mind immediately afterwards.

So why, for me, did this spark a chain reaction which ultimately ended in me describing the events in my blog? Why did I think about it so much and feel the need to justify their nerdy behaviour? I suppose everybody goes through a period of outspokenness and nonchalance in youth. As a young person, one can usually sum up any person’s behaviour by appeal to social stereotypes and immediately evident information. As we grow older, we realise that there is much more to people than meets the eye, and everybody is different, and we use these generalising terms less liberally. But I’m not grown up, I am a young person.

I’ve found that I do this quite a lot. I suppose it’s the polar opposite of being judgmental. I discover an isolated piece of information about someone and instead of snap-judging them and assuming the worst I engage in an exploration of the possible acceptable reasons for their behaviour. I suppose this is a good thing and prevents me from being disapproving and critical of people. But just once it would be nice to call someone a nerd, loser, freak or nerdy loser freak and not feel guilty afterwards.

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