I am tired and convicted by a character in my novel who is screaming for attention. In order to satisfy her properly I am downing the blog tools until my next writer’s group… a whole 5 weeks away.

I don’t know I’ll stand it.

I just know you’ll be fine without me. But I figure that in 5 weeks, the way things are going with me right now, there’ll be lots of gossip to catch up with when I get back…

SO DON’T GO AWAY

(please?)

It’s funny how a chance comment will stick with you, turning over in your mind long after the conversation is over. I can’t remember the exact words used but it was something like ‘that’s a very male response’ because rather than respond with sympathy to a situation, I’d offered a solution (my standard response – dr*gs baby, lots of lovely dr*gs).

I don’t think that my answer was right or wrong. It was what it was, but it got me to thinking about just how girly I am (or not) and why I may have responded as I did.

I’ve lived independently for 21 years now. That’s a long time to be looking after oneself and in not having anyone rely on to come up with the solutions a girl’s gotta look out for number 1 (much as it may pain her to do so at times). So, at first thought it would be easy to blame this independence for my answer.

It could also be because I don’t have the sympathy gene, (except where it pertains to sympathetic upchucking). My first response to someone taking a tumble in the street is to laugh… don’t get me wrong I’ll wade in to help, but will have to suppress a giggle as I do so and I will continue to giggle about it long after the fall.

In a similar vein I’m hopeless in the face of cases of ‘man-flu’ because I’m such a ‘get on with it’ kind of girl. High pain threshold, feel the burn and work through the pain (no, clearly I’ve never given birth) and if it’s good enough for me it’s good enough for those around me. Which sounds as though I’m a hard arsed, hard nosed beeeatch which is actually not true.

On balance it could all come down the fact that I’m a farmer’s daughter, bought up in a household where the man was hard and the woman, out of emotional safety, subjugated the princess to become a pragmatist. I’ve a strong dose of the pragmatist – a low tolerance for girly simpering and a high end practical bent. I can change a light-bulb, and a tyre without recourse to masculine help – and yes I can deal with spiders too. Bare Handed if need be.

Or it could simply be that I’m an ISTJ* who was doomed from birth.

Either way. Note to self.

Sympathy First.

(except in cases of obvious ‘man-flu’)

*terrifyingly accurate.

I am dying.

Budget restraints have put a kink in my music downloading.

It’s a darn shame that things like car registration and keeping a roof over my head have had to take priority over my happy place. Not to mention the cost of having company. There’s food for two now rather than one, and then one has to register the company with council… and that only once the company’s been ‘fixt (yes, you duffer I’m talking about the CAT).

iTunes is my happy place. And it’s missing me desperately.

I have a long wish list at the moment. My most recent purchase were You’ve Got to Laugh and Piece by Piece and don’t get me wrong, I love them still but it was MONTHS ago that I bought those…

So, I’m sitting here listening to Nik and pulling apart the music in my head, loving what each instrument is doing, analyzing why I love it so. But the problem is, I’ve done that a bunch of times.

I need a change.

So, I’m off to ebay to sell my soul library. Need to update your chick lit collection? I’m your girl. Or I will happily trade Marian Keyes for any of the following cds.

Any of the latest offerings from The Fray, Silverchair, Rob Thomas, Missy Higgins, Pink and Maroon 5.

Sigh… so much music, so little time.