Up the airy mountain

Down the rushing glen

We dare not go a'blogging

For fear of little men.

I can't watch "Pleasantville" any more. It's a great movie, with bravura (what the hell does that even mean?) performances from Reese Witherspoon, Tobey Maguire and William H. Macy, but I have to stop.

I've always liked the movie. If you haven't seen it, go watch it now. It'll take about two hours. Go on, I'll be here when you come back.

Watched it? Good.

It's about divorce. And coping with change. And how people alter over time. And until I watched it for the x-millionth time last weekend I'd never even noticed.

Ever had one of those days when you suddenly realise you're a fundamentally shallow person with no actual personality of your own, just an underdeveloped inadequate, living fron day to day on the reflected emotions of other people?

I have. Again.

I've blogged before about being a social chameleon, being able to fit in with any group. For all my outer shell, my pretence of normality, it's just an imitation of life. I fit in anywere because I adapt to anything. I'm not just two-faced, I'm omni-faced. It's like being multi-faceted -and- hypocritical at the same time.

I've been working for a long time on my own personality. (I get this mental image of a gardener tending a rare orchid. I don't even know what an orchid looks like, but to my mind it looks like a Triffid.) The question is what do I do with it.

Who would you be, if you had the choice?

The last man on earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock at the door...

Cue the spooky Mastermind music.

It was, of course, my boss. Not my direct boss, he's on holiday. My over-boss.

"Jack. How are you?"

Here it comes. Erratic work, lacklustre performance, odd hours, dishevelled appearance, culminating in what can only be described as a nervous breakdown at work. I'm getting the sack.

"Are you feeling better?"

... Not the words I was expecting.

"Your health is very important. Look after yourself. And remember, if you need to talk about anything, my door is always open."

... I've fallen through space-time into a parallel continuinuinuinuinuum. It's the only possible explanation.

Malaria and depression are very similar. Let me tell you why.

Once you're infected, you can have a relapse at any time. Just about anything can be a trigger to set you off: a word, a look, a song, and event, a day of the week.

For me, I think it was losing my car.

Blah blah blah personal freedom yadda yadda yadda boys and their toys rhubarb rhubarb rhubarb penis extension, but actually, no.

I was brought up in a tiny village in the back end of nowhere. No train station, no bus service worth the name, no taxi firm, nothing. Throughout my childhood I was completely dependant on my parents for transport, except for my feet and my bike.

I know live in a backwater market town in the middle of nowhere. Train station (a two hour journey to Manchester, changing once), bus service (I don't want to go anywhere that a bus can take me), more taxi firms than I can shake a stick at (trust them with my life? Hah!). The biggest difference is that, in the village I could walk to somewhere else, somewhere more interesting. It took an hour, but it was worth it. In the town, I'm already -in- the most interesting place for miles around.

"Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone?" I never realised how much I depended on my car, how much of my personality was dependant on being able to go anywhere, anytime, at the drop of a hat.

By the way, I'm all better since I bought another one. Admittedly it won't be ready 'til Saturday, but even knowing -that- is a huge weight off my mind.

"Don't let him manipulate you."

I smile and nod as she blindly continues. It's like warning me not to forget to breathe.

My mother is trying to manipulate me herself, of course. She's just not very subtle about it. She probably doesn't even think that's what she's doing.

It is though.

On Saturday 11 September at approximately 11:05 the woman I love drove her car into me.

No, not what I was expecting either.

Both cars were written off. Other than whiplash neither of our pasengers seems hurt.

Ann hit her head and arm, and had to go for an X-ray to make sure nothing was broken. Nothing was.

I was fine. Neck stiffness that cleared up in a day or two. My lower back's giving me a bit of pain, but my lower back and I have a long history. I've done worse to myself doing pushups without stretching first.

On Thursday 16 September at approximately 09:30 I walked out of my office, having done 4 hours of billable work in the last 21. I was practically in tears. I still have no idea why.

Who am I trying to kid? I know exactly why. Stress.

I don't know when I'll be able to face work again. It's not just the accident, the accident was nothing, a single straw. It's everything else.

I'm stressed. She's stressed (thanks for the heads-up, Dan). We're 60 miles apart with no transport. Oh, and of course we shouldn't be talking about the accident anyway.

No, I haven't been to my GP. This is not something that drugs will help with.

I have a feeling this weekend is going to be very important.