Breathe.

I felt amazing on the way home today.

It was sunny and warm. I sat on the edge of a raised flower bed (my usual spot) with my legs stretched out in front of me, waiting for my train at the station. I was listening to some amazingly cheesy 80's rock on my walkman. On the train, passed open fields, listening to Arcade Fire and I felt so uplifted. You would NOT have believed it was the end of September. Such a beautiful day... I felt so uplifted. I had thoughts of cruising in an open top car, my arms stretched upwards, singing to the songs I was listening to... free and happy.

I know I'm a long long way from that little vision... but it was a moment worth savoring and sharing.

Wanting.

I'm having another "want" phase. Consumerist greed and shallow hearted wanting of "stuff".

It shamelessly, selfishly and pathetically manifests itself in me every now and then and I just want want want. Funnily enough it usually coincides with me feeling anxious, insecure or poor.

I have found my perfect wallpaper. But it is horrifically expensive. But it is perfect. But it's more than I would ever ever EVER have considered paying for wallpaper before I had a house. But it is perfect. It's like my soul on wallpaper. I want it.

I had this great idea for displaying my favorite LP's around the house which I have steadily been gathering over the last month. Yet I've stumbled on an issue with the actual frames... that issue being that to frame all the buggers it's going to cost me £250. But they will look awesome. I want them.

I have also found some perfect prints and artwork that I need to have on my walls. Rather than have inane, pointless artwork from IKEA I wanted my walls decorated with things that mean stuff to me. I want artwork that I love around me. Things like this are so important to me. To fund this sort of important love though... will cost me in the region of a further £300.

I bought new jeans today because they made my bum look good.

I also want new shoes. But then I always kinda want new shoes.

I've also been planning landscaping the courtyard patio area, despite knowing I will never in a million years be able to afford this. Not ever. But I want a Ships Wheel for it nonetheless.

I'm off to try and paint my kitchen and hope that the fumes will kill off this greed.

Sugaaaarrrr!

So I'm feeling better... I've been feeling better since Mum got released from hospital. She's doing okay but getting her to rest is probably going to prove harder than I thought.

I can finally sleep now. And I don't feel so tense all the time. My appetite is back too... with avengence. I completely overdosed on sugar at work yesterday and today suffered the sugar come-down with full on headache to boot.

Nothing that a faithful Annadin Extra couldn't sort out but still... I should probably ease off the sugar a bit.

My records are arriving steadily. I've been buying some classic LP's to display on walls round the house. I've been picking ones that mean something to me... but keeping it down to a few is hard, since so many have had a big impact on my life. I like the choices I've made. I need a couple more... and I've also got my eye on some awesome prints which I cannot WAIT to get my hands on. That little bit of overtime I did when the riots were on may well come in very handy.

:-)

Rage against the Machine.

I could scream. Or cry. Usually in my case- anger takes over to stop the tears.

I am sick and tired of being told I'm over sensitive and irrational and bossy and bitchy and "opinionated" (isn't everyone!?).

My Mum is in hospital for cancer.

There are people at work I have known for a matter of months, people in other parts of the country who have shown more concern, more care and understanding towards me than someone who claims to know me inside out.

To you I say this:

There are times I hate you. There are times I feel you hate me. There are times that I feel I am just so sick and tired of your face, your baggage, your gloomy outlook on life, your lack of any sort of emotion, your lack of any care for anything non-tangiable, your absolute lack of lust and love for the biology of things, the organic nature of things, anything remotely ethereal, anything other than solidity, greyness and blankness.

You are like a heavy weight. Bearing down. Holding me down, telling me that everything that makes me feel like a real person is somehow exagerrated, wrong, erratic... this is just what it is like to think and feel like a normal, social, person who likes to chat, be silly and love things. You have only one passion- which is all you can now communicate. Anything else beyond that is deemed as irrelevent, too much effort, and merely an interference to this rigid, grey, bleak, life you've carved for yourself.

ANY time I ask for more now, it's too much. I'm overbearing, hyper-sensitive. I'm always to blame. And actually, actually, no. It's not that at all. We just exist on completely different planes. Such that I don't really know you... I most certainly don't like you anymore. How could I like such an un-caring, soul destroying, misery?

I'm going to re-claim what you try and take away from me on a daily basis as my own.

I can no longer tell who I am because you've tried constantly to shape me into something I'm not- the common denominator in anything that goes wrong because other than your work you fail at life, at recognising and enjoying what actually matters.

And I am fucking sick of it.

Support.

Apparantly I ask for too much.

All the time.

Jelly.

Just back from my first visit to see Mum in the HDU. Her Op took longer than expected due to complications which is going to have an impact on recovery but hopefully things are going okay for the time being.

She looks so uncomfortable, swollen, sore. There's alot of wires and beeping equipment. There's just a single bed in a big, light room. And there's my Mum in the middle of it all, in a lot of pain... and I can't do anything to help.

She's going to be in longer than expected. In all probability she'll still be in hospital for her birthday which is rubbish. Hopefully we can make up for it with lots of balloons when she comes out.

I fed her mushroom soup. Vic fed her jelly for afters.

She's in the best possible place; her doctor and nurses all seem nice and they're keeping avery close eye on her... and I know no matter what happens she'll get through it... all that rational bullshit that you get told over and over... but ultimately, my Mum is in pain and I can't do anything to help and that pretty much sucks.