August 7th (artpop)

Sometimes when I listen to one of my favourite albums, I feel a sense of closure that means it’s finally fallen out of my current, most-played albums. Not that I don’t like the songs any more, but the message they carry is no longer relevant to me. This happened the last time I listened to A Head Full of Dreams by Coldplay, and since then, I’ve been categorically listening to my other ones, in a bid to find out which themes of my life I need to hang on to, and which to leave behind. I listened to Artpop by Lady Gaga while cleaning, which is still a firm favourite. Obviously sexual offensiveness still needs to be high on the agenda.

After lunch, I helped Jayne with some DIY, although hindered is probably more the correct term. I spent the next few hours trying and failing to pinpoint where my frustrations lie. In the end, it was solely the lack of perfection that irritated me. But we have freedom to fail in this universe of forgiveness.

August 6th (city of a thousand planets)

Several activities managed to coalesce into one, coherent whole today, beginning with the delightful task of cleaning the Playtime Centre at church. This then allowed me to stay for the start of the service and worship, before ditching everyone for the boring part, and powering back up the hill for lunch with Gethin, Grace and her mum. I enjoy our conversations of tearing all beliefs and established modes of behaviour to shreds.

Then went to Cineworld to watch Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets with Luke. Totally absorbing, and with a surprisingly unconventional storyline. It was also quite stylistically similar to animes, being based on a graphic novel. I was planning on watching another film afterwards, but it wasn’t screening anymore, which threw my trajectory off course. I was probably better off with a break anyway.

Submitted to the overruling desire for sugar, and bought some cookies on the way back home. Was reflecting afterwards how my fixation on perfection alters how I view criticism, because it makes me feel I could have done better, even when the problem is abstractly, or not even, related to my performance.

July 29th (dancing in the dark)

Walked through Botanical Gardens in the morning on Matt’s big send off to Pride. Then it was time to get ready for Jen and Evie’s wedding. I’d been looking forward to it so much, mainly because it was all in the afternoon, and didn’t sprawl over the whole day. Also, I wasn’t playing any music, which made it seem like even more time.

I really loved every part of it; I’ve never tasted such chicken. But after finishing eating, and having pudding and a cup of tea, the galaxy of food in my stomach had consolidated into one mass, with the realisation I’d over eaten.

Also, the first dance was the best I’ve ever seen, but I had the inkling that it would be beyond the ordinary. I didn’t join in any dancing later, but I was surprisingly blessed by Jesus’ presence for the next few hours as I stood and listened to the music. I don’t mind dancing on my own before Holyspirit, but in that context, where everyone forms circles, it feels like a performance, and I’m too much of a perfectionist to join in. Maybe I should transform the front room into a dance floor to practice.