How has it been a week since I last wrote anything in the blog? I’ve been meaning to write something every day - but one thing or another has got in the way and just sitting in front of the keyboard to write has never quite happened.
I’m trying to think of anything vaguely interesting or entertaining to share, but I’m coming up with very little.
We went to the cinema the night before last. I suppose there’s that. We went to see “Wicked Little Letters” - a true story about a small town in England in the 1920s that saw a spate of poison-pen letters sent to numerous people throughout the town. A woman was almost sent to prison for it, before the police discovered the true culprit. I don’t want to ruin the movie, so am saying nothing more. It was properly funny though. Letters filled with the most entertainingly filthy insults. Listening to some of our greatest actors spout such bile was much funnier than it had any right to be.
After the movie we wandered along the road to a nearby pub and bought a drink. When did drinks get SO expensive? It’s no wonder the pubs are full of middle-aged and elderly people of certain means - they’re the only people that can afford it!
I booked us a summer holiday the other night. In late June we’re vanishing to a small cottage on the island of Anglesey, off the north west coast of Wales. It’s a converted farm building - filled with rafters and creaky floorboards, and surrounded by beaches, crashing waves, and a cosy pub within walking distance. We’re not taking the kids. Fingers crossed the house will still be standing when we return.
Oh… there is something to write about.
Although I try not to write about work, this isn’t really about work - so I think it’s allowed. I hope it’s allowed. I did a “strengths test” at work - everybody is encouraged to do them. I had to answer a couple of hundred obtuse questions about situations and decisions, and off the back of it my personality was laid bare in a lengthy report.
I was invited to attend a “review” of the report with one of the “People and Culture” team a few days ago - to help me understand it, and for them to get to know me a little too. I won’t lie - it was kind of interesting, but not perhaps for the intended reasons. I accidentally on purpose made a comment about the analysis being some of the best cold-reading I’d ever seen. An eyebrow was raised. I then proceeded to pre-empt exactly what was written on several of the analysis break-downs before I saw them.
I couldn’t help thinking of the Jack Nicholson character in “As Good as it Gets” - who puts on a genial, friendly personality like a suit of clothes, but sometimes the mask slips.
My mask slipped this week, and I felt horrible afterwards. I still do. A friend posted a funny video clip on Facebook where a couple were discussing how they sleep - if their mind switches off - and the comments quickly turned into a discussion about Myers Briggs classifications. Before I knew what I was doing, I posted a comment questioning why people had to be classified - described - put into a neat little box. Aren’t we all different? Isn’t it the “being different” that makes us interesting?
People love to believe systems, and world-views, or whatever it is they believe in that makes the world make sense to them - and I came along in my size twenty-thousand feet, and stomped on the conversation.
I guess it didn’t help that it was on Facebook either - so within moments the front page feed was filled with adverts for self-help books, mental health podcasts, self analysis courses, and so on. Even Anthony bloody Robbins started to appear the next day.
Anyway.
It’s almost 2am.
Why am I still awake? I’m going to be ridiculously tired in the morning…