I had no idea that this blog still existed. Frankly, I'm amazed that I remembered the name of the blog site AND my login name AND my password. Looks like intermittent access to my online ranting-spot is just meant to be.

So...it's Easter Sunday and I'm sitting along in a house that isn't mine, drinking beer and babysitting cats. The cat-owner has gone away travelling, so I'm here for the week looking after her little babies. I'm doing it because I have nowhere else to live. I was desperate, so I neglected to mention that not only am I allergic to cats, I genuinely hate them. I don't think she would have liked that.

I'm not going to hurt them or anything, I'm not sadistic. I just don't want them touching me or coming anywhere near me. I don't understand cat-people. How does a sensible adult make a choice to keep in your home an animal whose poo you have to scoop up every day of your life?  And this girl's flat is really small, so the kitty litter box sits in the shower stall (IN the shower stall) and has to be removed every time I want a shower. I have to move a BOX full of POO in order to take a shower like a civilised human being. That's fucking weird, man. I don't get cat people.

So let's do a quick update of the three and a half years of my life that have passed since I last wrote on Mindsay:
Location: Still in London.
Although I had to leave for a 7 month period about two years ago for visa reasons, it all worked out and I'm back here. My new visa expires next year, though, so I'll be screwed again then.
House: None.
Homeless, cat-sitting and house-sitting. I lived in my last place for just over a year, which must be some kind of record, but otherwise I'm still moving every 6-12 months. It's starting to piss me off.
Job: None.
I've been working short-term contracts ever since I last wrote. I still don't know my calling. I've still fallen into jobs that pay well but don't really resonate with my soul. I'm too fucking old to care so much about being genuine. What's with that? Anyway, I just need any old job now to help with the visa. I haven't applied for a single one in the last two weeks. I don't know what's wrong with me.
Lovelife: None.
Same as during my last update. In fact, I've only had one relationship since I started writing this blog in 2004. Christ, that's scary.

So the trifecta is totally fucked. My living situation is indetermined. I don't know what I'm doing with my life, I have little motivation to sort it out. In the meantime I'm spending my limited savings doing fuck all and have no solid plan to earn more money. I've been in this teen angst/mid-life crisis mode for a VERY long time. I wish I'd just sort myself the fuck out.

More beer?

Ok, so it's been 8 months since I last wrote. I realise I'm not exactly going to garner a loyal band of followers of this blog eagerly awaiting my next update .  I really just keep it live so I can use it to have anonymous rants...in the public domain. Strange, isn't it? I always wondered what compelled people to air their private, personal feelings on talk shows or public blogs, but now I'm doing it. Hmmm. Displays attention-seeking behaviour, obviously unresolved childhood issues arising from perceived lack of parental attention as eldest child.

I have one of those "here I am, this is what I did today"-type blogs for friends, family and Facebookers on Blogger now. I'm trying to become interesting enough to write a cool, opinion-based blog but the simple truth is I just don't care enough about anything to write that kind of stuff. I like reading other people's thoughts, but can't be arsed moulding my own ideas into coherent arguments. Or even developing my own ideas in the first place. All a bit too difficult, really.

Very quick update: my last 8 months in the UK have been amazing. Correction: the first 4-5 months were amazing, probably the best in my life, then reality started to sink in and it all became...if not bland, then, ordinary. The high wore off, reality started to bite, wanderlust kicked in. I travelled in Eastern Europe for a month then moved up to Scotland from London. I don't know a soul here, and coming from a very active friendship circle down south it's been a bit of an adjustment. Plus I've run out of my play funds and am struggling to earn enough to live the life I want. Sometimes I wonder why I deliberately push myself out of my comfort zone so often. What's wrong with a bit of comfort? If I find myself starting to be settled or, god-forbid, happy then I pack up and move on. I don't know what I'm looking for, but I hope I find it soon because I'm sick of starting a new life every 6-12 months. Ah dear, whoever said wisdom comes with age was a liar liar pants on fire.

Does everyone else apart from me know what they're meant to do with their life? I've had a series (okay, two) high-profile, enviable jobs which everyone apart from me thinks are just wonderful and yet I'm not satisfied. I've been well-paid and intellectually challenged - what else is it that I need? I know what it is, it's a need for honesty. What I'm doing doesn't match what's in my heart. I know fully well how daggy that sounds, and no I'm not a kaftan-wearing vegan spiritualist with a tenuous grip on reality. I'm a sensible (perhaps too sensible) modern woman who's feeling a general sense of unease by working in a job which fulfills financial needs but doesn't quite sit well with my ideals/ethics/I don't even know what to call it! The psychologists would call it cognitive dissonence, but it just feels like a general dissatisfaction with life and it seeps through me and out of me every day. I'm too old for ennui.