Dynargh dhe'n Blogofrob

Monday 2nd October 2006

The "I've peaked and I'm kidding myself" party

Hi. I'm, uh, I'm a pet psychiatrist. I sell couch insurance. Mm-hmm, and I, and I test-market positive thinking. I lead a weekend men's group, we specialise in ritual killings. Yeah, you look great! God, yeah! Hi, how are you? Hi, how are you?

Ten years! Ten short, blink and you'll miss 'em years. There was a five year school reunion. That was five years ago. Not five minutes, which is what it seems like. So, on Saturday, in a dark room above a very sloaney pub on the King's Road, we all circled each other politely, discussing nothing in particular except maybe how quickly a decade has passed and how weird that girl's hair now looks. It wasn't really as if everybody had swelled. There were a few larger waistlines, a few balder heads. There were people who said, "Hello Rob," who I swear I had never laid eyes on before. There was someone who greeted me with, "Hello Alex". There were lots of lawyers and accountants. It was vaguely entertaining. But I wasn't expecting to be vaguely entertained. I was expecting shakabuku. Unfortunately, I'm no Martin Blank.

Once, when filling out an application form, I was faced with the slightly unusual question, "If you could be any character from a film, who would you be and why?" I wrote:

Martin Blank, from Grosse Pointe Blank. He carries out his work quickly and efficiently, and, although undertaking his tasks individually, he recognises the need to work alongside others at times and the value of good support staff. He also dresses very well.

Given that this was an application to a law firm, the answer was ill-judged (actually the whole application process was ill-judged but I don't want to dwell on that). Martin Blank kills people for a living. He also has obsessive tendencies and is heavily reliant on his therapist, despite having been fired as a patient. I didn't get the job.

Unlike Blank, the ten year reunion did not drive me to an existential crisis point (it's arguable that I've been there for at least three years). I did not stare deeply into a baby's eyes and realise that my work is inhumane and meaningless (again...past three years). I had no swift, spiritual kick to the head that altered my reality forever. I chatted, drank, went to sleep, woke up with a hangover and stayed in bed until 2:30pm on Sunday. Ironed a few shirts. Had a curry. Went to sleep again. No shakabuku. If the 10 year reunion didn't bring it on, what will? When do I get my shakabuku? I was just trying to get a little validation for my life. I guess I came up a bit short!

96 - posted at 15:46:44

Post a comment

Sorry, comments on older blog entries are automatically disabled to deter comment spammers...

No one would see it anyway, so why not add your comment to the most recent entry?