Money.

I have none.

I could leave it there but I need a rant.

My new job was a promotion.  It was a 6k salary rise for me and I thought finally I'd be able to live a little more comfortably.  Well, it would appear I've been a bit too comfortable and now I'm suffering for it.

I've had an awesome few months as is evident from my lack of blog posts... but I fear those times are gone and I now need to knuckle down and stop spending money on having fun.  I need to save. My new job gives me an extra £200 a month which is currently being eaten up by a mahoosive increase in petrol costs. I now have an hour commute, along with having to use my car for meetings and I've yet to see a penny in any mileage costs (which only covers my meetings anyway).

The good times, the shopping, the cocktails and drinks and yummo food all needs to stop now.  I got paid last Thursday.  A week later I have £300 to last me the rest of the month.  This is desperate times.

I've cancelled my monthly saving direct debit. I've also delved into my savings.

From now on... it's nights in. Booze at home. Movies.

And handmade Christmas presents.

:(

Letting Go.

Bad Things:

I've avoided posting this for a while.  The last couple of weeks have been some of the hardest I've experienced for a very very long time.  I've managed to pull myself back together... or just about, and feel like I can move forward albeit tentatively.

N has been a big part of my life for the last decade.  We were together for eight years and even when I left two years ago we remained very close, still seeing each other regularly and spending time together when we could.  I never ever pictured my life without him, rightly or wrongly and continued to tell people who didn't understand how we remained so close, that he was my soulmate and always would be.

N has met someone now, and recently told me that there would be no chance of us recovering our past relationship and that it would be best if we no longer continued to stay in touch. Despite me knowing this could have been a reality, hearing it so bluntly threw me for six.  I was now faced with having to face the unknown of the rest of my life without my best friend. It hurt. A lot. It hurt that I was no longer considered irreplaceable in his life and that he had moved forward with out the need for me in his life.  I think it hurt an awful lot more than I ever thought it would, but then I'd never really let myself think about it.  For a good two weeks I was pretty broken, feeling like the world had been turned upside down and left fighting the dark, this in the first two weeks of my new job too.  Stress. It's been awful.  I stopped eating and sleeping and basically drifted along in a state of misery for two weeks.  My new job was stressful and I was missing my friends and colleagues hugely... I still do.

Good things:

But I'm back.  It is what it is, and whilst it hurt a great deal it's important that I keep plodding on.  It's scary, but I've realised just how great my family and friends have been in supporting me.

I face a long road alone now... and whilst that scares me it's important that I get used to my own company and learn to live without the friends I've come to rely on.  Obviously they will be there, but they all have their own lives and I need to shape mine be that on my own or with someone I may meet in the future.  I think for my sake I need to try and get used to the fact that I may not have the happy partner, wedding, the marriage, kids and house ... but it's important I make the most of what I have not what I don't.  I'm in my thirtees, I know who I am and what I want.  If people have a problem with it they can and will walk away... I won't be chasing after them.  If I can't find a companion and soulmate then so be it... but I'm determined to be happier than I feel now.  Alone or otherwise.

I went to a Tarot night on Friday.  My cards were brilliant... They showed my present - a big argument, losing a loved one, letting go. They showed security and success in my job with a possible further promotion at some point.  It warned me to steer clear of a person connected to work who is two faced.  I know who this was. It also told me there was a man coming into my life soon, it said I was going away shortly (to Belgium later this month) and that I needed to not hang on to the past anymore.  It all makes sense... and no matter what people's thoughts are on the topic, I felt like it was all very relevant.  I also spoke to a "psychic" man who asked me without any prompting what who the man with the dry hands was (this is N who had dermatitis!) and said that I was missing him. He also told me about a man with epaulettes, built frame who I should be wary of.  This matched up with my cards warning me about the person at work. It was all a bit of fun... not sure I was convinced by the psychic guy's talents although he did ask some questions and picked up that I made things in great detail (my sculpting) and that I recently had a problem with my cars brakes which was odd considering I'd never spoken to him before! He said he could picture me with a big car in the future and possibly with my own shop! :-D

I have a date tonight.  It's a bit of fun and I'm not expecting it to go anywhere but it'll get me back into the dating scene and get used to meeting new people again.  Who knows.

I have the Belgian GP also in a few weeks. I was meant to be going with N but I am now going with my dear Becko so it should still be a fun little adventure. 

I have a mini reunion next weekend with uni chums for the fabulous Mrs P's birthday. This will be bittersweet as it will be my first meeting with N since everything.  We won't have had any contact for nearly three weeks.  I'm not sure how I will feel, made tougher by the fact I will be the only single person there, but I just need to be strong and try and enjoy seeing friends who I don't get to see often, in a city I love, in our old haunts.

I have also booked tickets to the next BTCC event in Rockingham in early September so I have that to look forward to also! :)

I spent a good hour on Skype this morning with my neice, bro, sister in law and my folks who are over in Japan visiting.  She blew me bubbles and showed me her playdough desk and tools- she might be a budding little sculptor like me! She even blew me a kiss when I said goodbye... she is so precious and I can't wait to meet her again, hopefully in the next year or so.

I just need to keep smiling and remind myself often that everything will be okay.

Everything will be okay.

Narcissus.

Ah sweet sweet justice.

There is something uncompromisingly ugly about anyone who's vanity overspills into narcissism.  I see this most often in men who spend so much time shaping and sculpting their bodies in the gym whilst forgetting entirely to shape their character; their individualism and their morals remaining pathetically empty and superficially soul-less.

Paradoxically narcissists spend the majority of their lives in a state of total self absorption yet remain entirely lacking in self awareness.  This is clearly because the process of becoming self aware not only requires a critical reflection of the self but also requires a deeper understanding of emotions, empathy and of interaction with other human beings;  The antithesis of narcissism.  A beautiful, spiralling irony.

" People's actions will tell you everything you need to know. "

Always.

The Brink.

I am teetering on the edge.

I look down- it's a big black hole, so deep I can't see where it ends.

I look back- there is noise, confusion, blue skies and storm clouds, faces, voices, shouts and laughter, excitement and fear. So much commotion that sometimes I'd just rather jump in and disappear into the blackness.

The only trouble is not knowing how long the freefall lasts, or where I land.

And the being alone.

Skins.

I saw a facebook post recently which was for some charity event- Children In Need if I remember rightly, where some high profile women had gone "Bare Faced" for some publicity shots.  The fact that most of these women were models anyway - with naturally good skin, bone structure etc aside, I got the point which (although not executed brilliantly) was still a fair enough effort at raising the issue of women's self esteem.

 

It got me thinking. 

 

Over the years, some of which may be detailed in this blog from earlier times, I have battled with low self esteem.  Mostly from my physical appearance as I am highly confident in my beliefs, opinions and actions for the most part- some would say perhaps too confident! 

Being so petite (skinny, as fatter people prefer to call it) and pale, I don't fit in the to the feminine hourglass, curvy figure.  I spent a huge portion of my formative years feeling completely inadequate physically, mostly due to the eagerness of other people to point out that I was "too thin".  I've been called ugly, skinny, been in the company of fat people who just love to call you scrawny and put you down, and we all know those awful people who love taking bad photographs of others because it makes them feel better about themselves.  You don't have experience of self harm without having some sort of disrespect for yourself and obviously I have the scars to prove it. Bad cycle. 

Whilst I'm able now to put a lot of these things down to other people being shits, it's all still left it's mark and I continue to have issues with aspects of my figure and my body.  It's not just my skinny, bony, pale body and lack of boobs either; I've spent many years staring at my face in the mirror and hating my nose and ears and the general shape of my tiny head.  It's why I hate photographs of myself. 

 

This brings me to the main point of my post.  Whilst I probably feel the most comfortable I have about my body (which is still probably poor compared to the average woman) I, like most of my female peers, wouldn't even dream of leaving the house without make up.  Never.  It just won't happen.  In fact I can even remember my worst fear coming true one day when I got up to find that I had run out of eye-liner.  The prospect of going into public WITHOUT eye-liner on in order to buy some, was too horrific, and I had to send N out to get a new one before I could leave the house. 

 

It's awful really.  Its my face, where so much of my personality comes out and is presented.  I am very confident in my beliefs, my opinions, my morals, and my passions and they all come out through my face, my mouth, my eyes, my expressions.  However to sit in front of a mirror and look at my face with make up on is a highly uncomfortable experience for me.  Looking at it WITHOUT make up- even more so. 

 

The women who have posed without make up for those publicity shots however, have inspired me through the comfort of my blog, my small, tiny window to the world, to do the same. 

 

So, feeling brave, here I am.  With no make up.  No eyeliner, no blusher.  Nothing.  I think I was fortunate that the soft lighting has bleached out the dark eye circles and patchy skin... but still, this is me- as naked as my face can get.

 



  

 

Scary stuff. 

Fresh Meat.

The Sexism of Freshers Week

A brilliant article by the Guardian about "Lad" culture impacting on young women during the crazy time that is Freshers week.  I have to say I can't remember being exposed to a great deal of this at my university, however that was around ten years ago and the whole pathetic "Lad" retaliation movement hadn't occurred.  Also, I tended to avoid those horrendous meat market uni nights to favour other club nights out and social occasions because I've never really felt the need to follow a crowd and conform, especially if it's with total twats.

The article highlights some disturbing and obscene trends which I hope women begin to fight back.  One occasion I do remember at uni, at one of the horrendous Friday Night Disco (FND) meat markets I rarely went to- was being physically picked up and carried out of the union by a really tall man who looked like Greg Rusedski.  I laugh at it now, but to be honest, the whole thing really bothered me.  This man was a stranger, and although we'd danced on the dance floor, this man was able to physically pick me up and walk out the Union with me, as if he'd picked me off the shelf at a supermarket. Because I'm so small, petite and skinny, it really bothered me that he was able to physically over power me.  Nothing bad happened, he put me down outside the union with no malicious intentions and I promptly walked back inside, but it could so easily have been a different story.  It's one of the reasons that I feel so much better about feeling physically stronger through my gym training, because whilst I'm still tiny and easily overpowered at least I know I have some strength to punch, kick and fight back; anyone who knows my tenaciousness will know I'd put up one hell of a good fight if I had to. 

Anyway, read the article.  It's a good'un.

Fed the **** Up.

You can tell the weather has turned.  I never do well in September.  It's always been a difficult month for me for many reasons, and this year is no exception.

This week I just feel Fed Up.  Thoroughly.  Fed up of people, of work, of getting screwed over, of selfish people, of people so fucking caught up in their own shit that all I want to do is tell them to shut the fuck up.  Fed up of work, fed up of my colleague being off work, fed up of being on my own, fed up of not seeing a light at the end of the tunnel.

I still find time to laugh every day- don't get me wrong, but I'm tired and all I want to do right now is get away.  Far away.  Somewhere safe, quiet and where I know I'm going to be okay, to just sleep a while and block it all out. Preferably in the arms of someone who genuinely gives a shit about me. 

Ugh.  That's it.

Normal slinky service will resume in 24 hours. Or maybe the weekend.

Be Afraid.

These guys will soon be running your Probation services, making communities even less safe...

Prisons Rated :  "Serious Concern" over two private prisons.

Well done Mr Grayling, you Tory shitbag, great move.

Invader.

So there I was... casually walking into my room, seeing my bright red, every-day handbag on the bedroom floor, reaching in side to get out my purse.  I opened up my purse and held it in front of me to look for my card, still bending down to place it back in my bag afterwards, when something caught my eye... something out of the ordinary was sitting in my bag.  And then my brain kicked in... my eyes focused in on a spider, sitting in my bag. 

Obviously, I threw my freakin purse and fell backwards.

A few moments of shock passed, and I returned to look in my bag for confirmation... the bastard had moved. 

Fuck.

I picked up the handles, and threw it out my bedroom, where it landed on it's side, but with most of the contents still in the bag.  I was hoping to see the little, evil cretin run out but it didn't.  Panic now ensued, because not only had I no idea where this nasty little creature was in my bag, but I'd thrown it in the path of the only exit to my bedroom.  So I was trapped, with a spider holding my handbag hostage.

The horror of the situation dawned on me when I realised my hand had been in that bag.  MY HAND.  The very thought of my skin coming into contact with a spider completely unexpectedly, quite honestly, horrifies me. 

I had no other choice but to call my Dad, who rather stupidly advised me to "Just tip it out".  Er, What now? And have it freakin' crawl towards my bare feet?? This wasn't an option.  He had to come and get it out.  Which he did, by tipping out my bag, and watching the little bastard escape into a dodgy floorboard in the bathroom.  Can I get over the fact that it was IN my handbag? No. Can I stop thinking about the prospect of it laying EGGS in my bag. No. No I can't.  Do I think about it everytime I reach into my bag? Yes. Yes I freakin do. Oh god.

The same spider, and yes I KNOW it was the same one (same size, same shape, same horrifically AWFUL legs)... this SAME spider proceeded to try and get back into my room the following day; I found it on the ceiling making it's way towards my door.  It's final attempt however, appears to have become its last.  I walked into the bathroom this evening to find it sitting in the middle of the floor.  I immediately stopped and adopted my usual Spider-terror stance, and then noticed it looked a bit weird. A slightly closer inspection revealed it's body appeared squashed... and I highly suspect my cat might have given the evil beast a friendly, playful pat on the head and accidently killed it. Good cat.

The reign of terror was over.  Though winning the battle is not winning the war.  Downstairs, I entered the living room to find one of those horrendous Orb spiders in the middle of the carpet- you know the ones with the tiny bodies and ridiculously, long, very fine legs which bend over.  I flattened it with the Radio Times.  Those ones seem weaker than the others; finer, slower. 

It's corpse is still on the floor.  I'm leaving it there as a message to the others that death WILL ensue if they persist with their assault on my house. 

Spiders: Do one. 

LADS: Lets be Less.

There's a guy I come into contact with regularly who is possibly the biggest Tri-Hard I know.

He's married and a father, perhaps not the brightest tool in the box but works hard to make a living for his family.  He appears to model himself on a mixture of Homer Simpson and your typical "LAD".   Here's a few examples:

- His facebook is littered with Laddish, semi-sexist meme's that he's found online.
- He shares images from groups with intellectual titles like "I just keep clicking until I see some boobs" and "Rack/Bum of the Day".
- His idol is James Bond.
- He prides himself on getting his wife stereotypically "thoughtful" gifts like a grill and a micro pedi for her birthday.
- Anything appealing to the humour of a 12 year old boy would also appeal to him.
- He frequently makes Jim Davidson style innuendo jokes.
- He makes self depreciating comments about himself like "I did one push up last night and my arms are killing me!"

This is a guy in his thirties.  I would expect all the above to apply to a 12 year old, maybe a simple student, but he's in his thirties.  And he's actually bred children which is a concern.  
Now, this guy is harmless.  Dull, but harmless.  But nevertheless he is actively, desperately almost, trying to live up to a set and quite frankly awful stereotype.  This is a concept completely alien to me.  Don't get me wrong, this man doesn't offend me, neither do I think he's a bad person- I just find his complete lack of originality and lack of identity, sadly pathetic.  He has a complete lack of self- nearly everything he says or does comes from somewhere else.  I hear him saying things which I know he's already shared on facebook a few days earlier... I hear him making jokes or telling stories with exactly the same "bloke" undertones as the day before and it's just rather tiresome.

And it's not uncommon.  We all grew up with a sense of wanting to belong.  We're tribal creatures; social creatures with common interests and hobbies which bring us together or divide us.  I get this.  I wasn't the most popular kid at school, never part of a huge crowd, but I had a small group of like minded friends and I failed to see how others wanted to be part of the "in" crowd just for the sake of it, rather than actually liking the people in the crowd.  Lets be honest, the "in" crowd is always full of absolute losers who are mainly shallow and not particularly nice people who I had ZERO in common with.  Why, why WHY would I EVER want to be accepted by them??! I had this mentality at the age of 12 and it caused me some isolation, some bullying but my god I wouldn't change it, it's made me the free-thinking person I am.

I know other men, or should I say boys, who become ensconced in this pathetic "LAD" culture of getting pissed, being sexist and fucking around, reducing women to their body parts etc.  I've seen fairly intelligent guys who disappointingly buy into this boy-dom, who lose the ability to think for themselves and then in turn become accustomed to being sexist, unattractive and frankly pathetic puppet consumers of archaic, sexist attitudes and cultures. 

And quite often, it takes a woman to challenge them and break the cycle, rather than it being a well informed, conscious decision to just strap on a pair and grow the hell up.  Alternatively, when these men become parents, more so to daughters, they then also see a step change, however some do not, and continue to pass down their stereotype to their sons and daughters.  And whilst touching on this area: I cannot stand the hypocrisy of some fathers who take on this over bearing, over-protective father role.  The worst offenders being those who are effectively protecting their daughters from men LIKE THEMSELVES and therefore openly admitting that most men are pathetic shitbags. Yet don't get called sexist. Odd.  

Why there aren't many men who come to their own conclusion that both men AND women deserve more than this, is beyond me.  I know many men.  I don't dislike men; I have a great many male friends, some very close male friends and indeed, my best friend is male.  But I  will remain cynical until more come forward, step up and reclaim being a MAN as being a decent, good, honest person who despite having a weakness for boobs, don't feel the need to denigrate women, reduce them to their body parts, and don't see the point in being part of a damaging and frankly pathetic culture of being LESS than they are capable of.  This is expressed far more eloquently in the below quote which is one of my all time favourites:

Males these days have suffered something of an identity crisis and I can't quite work out if this is a result of the advances women have made in asking for more, in expecting more, and demanding they are treated better because we ARE better than what we were being portrayed to be.  However, men seem to have retreated in the opposite direction and instead of wanting to be MORE than their stereotype (Homer Simspon- useless- fumbling- follow-his-friends- and-cheer-at-boobs) they've positively encouraged it.  They don't even want to be called MEN anymore, preferring lesser terms like Bloke and Lad. Possibly because there is confusion as to what a Man is these days.  Here's a thought- how about just trying to be a good HUMAN: accepting, honest, caring and respectful.

And it's not just guys. Some women are just as capable of this ridiculous act.  I know plenty of women who WANT to be less than they are and actually play up to a stereotype- dumbing down, not venturing any opinion, or possibly not having any for fear of it not being the "right" one; acting stupid, having to copy a certain look.  It's just ridiculous. And I don't get it.  Can't get it.  If you're yourself, you'll attract the right people to you.  I'm a right stroppy, opinionated cow and I have some AWESOME friends.

I fail to see how anyone would want to strive to be less than they are.  Perhaps it's reached a stage where I expect men to be sheep, and maybe I (wrongly) expect more from women since women have fought for us to be accepted as more than our stereotypes.  In the last Century women have pushed to be MORE.  There have been no such movements for Men.  Because men appear less bothered at being seen as less than they are, positively embracing their shoddy stereotypes in places.  They seek acceptance from their friends, defining themselves as the same rather than trying to be different, even when they hold a different opinion.  Sheep. Boring as hell, Sheep. Sorry Sheep.

I lose respect for any person (Man or Woman for that matter but for the purposes of this paragraph I will say "he") who claims he has the capacity to think intelligently and debate intelligently but who fails to see the problems he contributes to by being part of a pathetic, archaic, sheep style culture of sexist stereotyping and embraces being a Lad.  A Boy. 

I'm proud to be different. Opinionated, hot headed, controversial at times, and to my detriment occasionally- but only because I believe in things and I'm not afraid to voice them.  I am true to my being and my beliefs. I may not be pretty and cute and wife material.  But I'm me. And that's one thing I love about myself.

Movements.

Nothing like a bit of Feminism to distract me from the three day bank holiday bender I've been recovering from- and I don't even mean a hangover as so much as the general fatigue! Yep- Old.

So I've been encouraged of late by the following gems of awesomeness.  There's a buzz at the moment... things are happening, action is being taken, there's stirrings.

Some weeks ago now I noticed The Every Day Sexism project which is a twitter account set up for people to record experiences of every day sexism- male and female. It's a brilliant way to draw attention and its really gathered momentum.  It's a brilliant tool for ill-informed but open minded people to get an idea of what actually counts as sexism as I've been staggered to discover that not everyone actually understands what it is, what should or shouldn't be acceptable and this is exactly what it is needed to stop younger generations becoming MORE sexist than their parents.  Sexism these days is far more vulgar and packaged differently to its former, 1950's-didn't-know-any-better self.

Check it out-  @EveryDaySexism on twitter.

Following this the below two campaigns are starting to take shape: 

Feminists taking action against Facebook and "lads mags" (or as I like to call them "Pervert Wank Rags" in shops.

If you haven't already done so I urge you to sign *** this petition *** at http://www.losetheladsmags.org.uk/  spearheaded by OBJECT and UKFEMINSTA to remove wank rags from supermarkets where families are free to roam. 

Brilliant.  Reassuring.  Encouraging. :-)

Sound of not-so-silence.

At the risk of revealing that I've achieved NONE of my tasks today- I'm going to share one of my many quirks with you.

For years, more so the last ten years, I've had this issue with certain sounds.  It all started with my Grandad.  My Grandad, probably no different to most older folk, is a loud eater.  I've been seeing my Grandparents and family in the city of Nottingham since I was a kid, and our traditional day would be spent visiting the rellies for Sunday dinner and then the other set of Granparents for tea.  (Yes that's DINNER and TEA. As it should be).  My Grandma would prepare us a small buffet tea of sandwiches, salad and rolls for tea and for reasons unknown, my Grandad would always wait until the rest of us had finished eating before selecting his food and starting his own.  I began to dread this moment.  Then it would start- the slow, inevitable chomp chomp munch squelch of chewing. On and on it went... having to endure every morsal of food sometimes with the addition of a slop and a churn... until it was all gone.  Each sound enraged me.  I would get so uncomfortable I would have to move or eat something myself just to drown out the sound.  Even weirder, no one else seemed to notice.  Although fleeting, the rage was there, I'd physically grit my teeth or clench my jaw with annoyance. 

This has got predominantly worse over the years to the stage where if I can hear pretty much anyone chewing or chomping I feel uncomfortable.  I don't usually act on it, other than the odd comment now and then. 

Regular readers will already know that I hate snoring but my dislike of hearing these kind of sounds doesn't stop there - I dislike hearing people breathing- the whistle nose or worse still- a combination of whistle nose, chomping and heavy nose breathing at the same time.  Hell.  Pure, utter hell.  Oh god.

Well, I'd never really linked all these together, putting it down to my hyper sensitive body- but it turns out this whole thing is a recognised condition!!!!

*This New York Times article* describes my "condition" precisely and calls it Misophonia! Who knew that this was a recognised disorder of the brain!? Woohoo! Another one to add to my collection.  Hehe, I jest, Obviously. 

Fuck You- from a Blonde.

Forgive me a rant.  It won't take long.

The next man OR woman who assumes I am...

a). stupid
b). horny
c). slutty

... because of my fucking hair colour may well get stabbed in the face.

My hair is blonde.  Get the fuck over it.  Judging by the complete fuck-wits I've had the displeasure of meeting who have made any of the above assumptions, should I perhaps be reforming my opinions of brunette haired people as:
a). fucking thick as pig shit
b). lame
c). sexist
and d). have clearly been raised watching far too much pornography.????

Er... yeah maybe not. 

Yet again I guess the media doesn't help with this particular issue- fuelling it with ridiculous polls suggesting that most men and women prefer brunettes... hmm could that be because of a general, wide sweeping idea that blonde women are associated with pornography and sex by.... hmm, the media?!?!?.  No shit sherlocks.  I would wager I am 3000% more intelligent than any twat who is lame enough to even answer such a fucking stupid, pointless poll.

Get real you absolute fucking morons. 

That is all. 

:-)

Thin Mint Ice.

In 2005, this happened...

... this Ice Cream was monumental. 

It was THE best Ice Cream I had ever EVER tasted.  I loved it.  I bought it weekly as my Saturday treat.  It was my paradigm shift in the world of Ice Cream, changing my conceptions of cream based, icy food forever.

No less than a few months after Minter Wonderland shone light upon my tastebuds... Ben & Jerrys condemned it to  the Ice Cream graveyard and stopped selling it.  For a few months I checked supermarkets in the vain hope of finding a stray tub- to no avail.  I was never to see or taste this Ice Cream again. 

It took me many years to get over this- in fact I'm not sure I have forgiven Ben & Jerrys yet for their cruelty.  No Mint Ice cream was ever going to compare...

and then, a few weeks ago, by sheer chance, this happened...

... Oh. My God.  Mint Leaves and Chocolate.  The years of Ben & Jerry's heartbreak ended as I slipped that smooth cold spoon of icy, minty goodness into my mouth.  That Ice Cream and my tongue were meant to be together, united, in perfect harmony.  I never thought anything would taste as good as Minter Wonderland... but this, completely surpassed my expectations.  Years of empty, flavourless, dull, boring utterly CRAP mint choc chip Ice Cream melted away and my life felt complete once again.

I consumed two tubs... and then the fear of this amazing happiness-in-a-tub being taken away from me took over.  The next couple of days I visited Sainsbugs AND Tesco and noted they didn't appear to have any of my Ice Cream left- this could be both good and bad.  Maybe stocks are just low because it's new...  "Don't panic" I thought, lets check online.  To my horror, my ice cream was now only being stocked in Waitrose and Ocado.  That's okay... we are fortunate to live near two Waitrose supermarkets.  The larger of these stores, had just three tubs in stock.  I bought all three.  They are safe in my freezer.

However, my love affair is, I fear, to be short lived.  I stopped by a smaller Waitrose this afternoon on my way home from work in the hope of stocking up on a few more tubs.  I scoured the shelves of the Ice Cream freezers- There were none.  There wasn't even a label for them.  That familiar feeling returns... my ice cream is slowly but surely slipping out of my grasp once again. 

There are still supplies... online mainly.  I'm considering whether my addiction is worthy of ordering a few more tubs- potentially having to pay for delivery.  Just how far will I go to get this Ice Cream?  Is there such a thing as black market ice cream dealer where I can fuel my habit? Perhaps the local Mr Whippy van could strike up some sort of deal... Yes, desperate times.

I still have my three tubs...these will now be subject to STRICT rations.  It's going to be a sad, emotionally tough day when I spoon out the last scoop from my last tub.

So fleeting... so passionate... and then it's over... so suddenly. 

The world of Ice Cream is a cruel, cruel place.   

Home is where the money is.

Today marks the first day of the housing benefit reforms imposed by the Government.  I already received one phonecall to my department today from a vulnerable person - who will no doubt be in custody by the morning due to the big change.

On this day, two articles caught my attention:

This article by Ricky Tomlinson:
"10 Lies We're Told About Welfare"

and in stark contrast:
"Queen receives a £5m payrise from the taxpayer"

Think about it.

My Pensieve.

Forgive me a momentary lapse.

I need to get a few things out and this is MY blog.  I was wary of posting about this, but I don't think I have need to anymore. It will make no sense to anyone but me.

I'm annoyed about a couple of things. People in fact. How did you guess?!

An Apology.

I feel a lot of the time that it's two steps forward and one step back.  I wrote very briefly about being hurt by someone last year.  It took a lot of effort to move past that; to really accept that a person can be so hugely different to how you first perceived.  I attempted on a couple of occasions to reconcile with this person in an effort to keep their friendship in my life- however it came back to bite me and I just wound up even more hurt.  I resigned myself to the thought that this person's hatred and spite was deep set, and no matter how unfair and unjust- I couldn't change their feelings.  I cut them off knowing I would never receive an apology nor any explanation of their cruel actions.  After a few lame attempts at getting in touch with me, which I ignored, a chance encounter with this person prompted a long overdue apology, albeit by text.  It's about all their tiny mind and it's equally miniscule emotional intelligence could muster I suppose.

This puts me in a quandry because immediately all the weight I had carried dispersed.  I will never get an explanation, but their apology made a difference, though I will always doubt it's validity.  It's a degree of closure from a particularly bitter element of last year and I feel I can finally put it behind me.  However, I feel like I'm betraying myself.  I felt so strongly about this person, so hurt and it took a lot of effort and energy to turn that hurt into enough dislike to cut them out... and it just went, in an instant, when they apologised.  This is a good thing, I'm sure... for me, and I'm glad that it's lifted a burden, however the hate I had been holding also protected me and now I'm without it, it feels strange.  I also get irritated by the thought that this pathetic apology gave THEM some sort of closure and that my absorption of this apology has somehow forgiven them.  This is not something they deserve, however I guess I need to be selfish and take the positives for myself, ignoring any impact it may have on them. I'll try.  Their punishment I guess, though I hate to say it because I inherently don't truly believe it, is that they lost my friendship and the chance to have me in their life.  I somehow have to convince myself that this is of detrement to them. Somehow.

Safety.

Someone gave me some good advice once.
"Learn to hate" they said. 
Silly, I thought at the time, because I frequently get described as a very angry person- or passionate if it's deemed as a compliment.  Sometimes I feel I have far far too much hate in me.  This same person, emphasized that I feel things strongly- all emotions, on a greater scale.  This was no news to me, however the news that other people didn't feel to the same depth is a relevalation I will always struggle with.  I find such people alien.  I find it frustrating that my emotions are rarely shared and I often feel that I give more than I receive; always in debt somehow.  But this is not something I can change, and I'm not entirely sure I want to. How I feel, makes me who I am. Good and bad. Anyway I digress. 
I was told to "learn to hate" someone who hurt me.  To protect me.  A barrier.  It worked.  And now I find I am having to do that once again.  Hate is a strong a word, but I'm having to put up the barriers, let it all go and surround myself with invisible barbed wire.  I guess that's why they say there's a fine line between love and hate- the propensity to get hurt is always greater, emotions are heightened.

I know I am pushing another friendship away... but this is what we have to do sometimes right? To not be hurt.  And it makes me angry ( I know, something I should be avoiding this year).  It makes me angry that the reasons I'm doing this are even more evident now; each day is further confirmation of why this is painfully necessary.  It makes me angry that this person has no concept of my hurt. It makes me angry that I've lost another friendship.  It makes me angry that someone I cared for, I now feel I don't know.  It makes me angry that they've let this happen.  It makes me angry that it's all gone because it's what they wanted. And it's making me question myself -doubt myself, question my personality, what I keep doing wrong, why I keep making the same mistakes- which again is making me anxious.  Likewise I am now questioning them- Did they lie? It feels like they did. It feels like the whole thing was a lie now. Did I get someone else wrong? Again!? Do they car? It would appear not. I will never know. It's easier not to.  Gut feeling vs assumptions vs words.  Words are easy to say.  Actions speak louder.

The less I think about it all the better.  This is one of those times where sticking your head in the sand is necessary, because eventually it WILL all go away and I won't care about any of it. That's what I need- to not care.

Everything works out better for people who just don't care.

The Balancing Act of Being Female; Or, Why We Have So Many Clothes

I just read the above article.

It's an interesting albeit brief article on the labelling of women based on their clothing choices.  It's a sad fact that women label women in this way just as much as men do.  Interestingly men's clothing choices matter very little... in fact I can't remember many conversations around mens clothing choices reflecting their personalities and although I can see how a personality may be relfected in a mans clothing choices, they're not routinely labelled in the same way.  Men seldom are labelled. 

The image in the article, as usual, sums it all up a thousand times quicker and with more clarity than words do. 

Well done to the young student addressing these issues. 

Ill Manners

Chav-Bashing- a bad joke turned into bilious policy

 

I've posted the above article because it very much relates to the video below.  I came across the below a few months ago and was struck by it's social commentry.  I would strive to say it's the most powerful music videos I've seen for many years and I think it sums up the last few years better than anything else I've seen or read. 

 

It's aptly crafted - edgy, raw and with a deep, angry intensity which is captured both musically and visually.

 

I have no doubt it's messages, many ironically contradictory, will be missed by both sides using it as an influencial piece condoning certain lifestyles and behaviour and for this reason I fear it's potential poignancy has been negated.  In all the articles, literature, websites and papers I've read on the social impact of the Tory Government- THIS, to me, is the most intensely powerful and honest account of the widening social divide that's expanded before everyone's eyes. 

 

Nice guys really do finish last.

" Beware of Bull Sharks; They float in shallow waters.  Beware of Bullshit; it floats in shallow people".

 

One of the things about my place of work is that I can't get used to the culture or the people politics.  The work force I have found myself in is one full of egotists, compulsive liars, superficial, nasty, shallow, two faced ass holes.  The sad thing is, I'm starting to realise that this is exactly how you have to be to get ahead, to get by and possibly to be happy. 

 

I always thought of myself as a good judge of character, trusting my gut instinct with people; however as I've got older I don't always get a gut reaction to base anything on.  This is throwing me off track and now I'm slowly finding myself in a situation where I don't want to really trust anyone.  That's not a healthy place to be.  I'm unsure if this is unique to my line of work- I highly suspect it isn't, but the scary truth lurking in the background is - This might be what it's like to be an adult. 

 

It's a minefield. 

 

I have trusted too many people this year.  I have been too open, too willing to expect good in people.  I have been repaid with hurt, heartache, betrayal, lies and an overwhelming sense of being unable to tell the difference between friend and foe.  It makes me hesitant to trust people, even those my gut says I should.  I don't want to be this way.  Not at all.  However, as a headstrong, opinionated individual I find it frustrating that I frequently get made out to be an intolerant bitch for being passionate and voicing a strong opinion when actually, there are people out there who on a daily basis are far more worthy of derogatory name calling than I.  I am honest.  I wear my heart on my sleeve.  But I am true both to myself and others.  It would appear this is not the way to be and that screwing on your friends, using people, lying and having as many faces as a rubix cube, is widely accepted behaviour.

 

I have never seen myself as a doormat but this year I've felt like one a number of times.  Do I really have to be colder, nastier, less open, less trusting in the future to avoid getting hurt and feel happier?

 

Letters.

 

You two.  You two are made for each other.  Both spineless, shameless liars, hypocrites and game players.  Both shallow, and blindingly superficial.  I shan't sink to your level and falsely wish you happiness.  I genuinely don't.  I hope your egotism and vanity consumes any trace of the young, happy desire you currently feel leading you to a power struggle just as ugly and destructive as you are.  Keep playing your pathetic games and may you both get lost in your stagnant, fake worlds of smoke and mirrors.

 

 

 

You. You let me believe in you when you knew I shouldn't.  You are pathetic, ugly to the core, bitter, hateful, and a master of manipulation; A compulsive liar, a hypocrite, shallow and ultimately spineless; full of nothing but utter bullshit. You will always remain the nastiest person I have ever met.    

 

 

 

And you.  You have lacked strength.  You have many qualities but you show weakness when it ought to have mattered most.  Where were your poignant words when my integrity was brought into question?  Your loyalty wanes like your lust and love does.  I doubt the strength and validity of your feelings and therefore I doubt your self awareness and understanding of emotion.  Your fear of emotion is sad.  Your willingness to lose me- honest and blatant.  Your lack of actions speaks volumes.  THIS I trust more than your words now. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reflections on 2012 pt 2: N, Where I end and You Begin...

In January, I left home.

My home.  It's almost indescribable how much I miss my house, and the walls where I encased my soul for a year.  However, I wasn't happy there.  At times it felt like a prison, and a place where I felt alone and unsupported by my partner of 8 years N. 

I met N 10 years ago at University.  We've had a tumultuous and stormy relationship from the outset but have carved a path through many trials and tribulations.  N is my soul mate and best friend.  I want to avoid cliches as they sound futile, however he is etched into my heart and always will be.  I love him deeply and have been sadenned to see sides of him I once knew and loved become lost to his career. 
He is driven and dedicated to his job.  His career literally means the world to him, and whilst I love what I do and put my all into it, it is not where my heart and soul lies.  I look to the arts, to friends, family and home life to make me happy and as we've grown into hard working adults our differing outlooks and priorities have become vastly apparant; to the extent where when I needed him most, when my Mum was diagnosed, I turned to find N largely pre-occupied with his job.  Emotional needs weren't being met and I felt pressured into appearing happy at a time when all I felt was sad, lost, confused and angry at life.

I will always love N.  A part of me longs desperately to go back to my old home, to N.  But I fear too much has now changed.  Everything I have mentioned in Reflections Pt 1 has happened without him- or with him in the distance.  He has never been too far away, which right now I am very glad about.   We've spoken every week, and met up like the old friends we used to be over the last few months.  I miss how we were.  I miss his companionship.  It's important to remember that amidst the stress and anger that engulfed is this time last year, that our relationship has been filled with laughing, closeness and a bond that can't be put into paragraphs in a blog.  He knows me.  Inside out.  All of me, my good parts, bad parts, all my flaws laid bare, and he still loves me for them... sometimes though, I fear he misinterprets my expressionist side and misunderstands my needs.

We've both had time. I've learnt a lot this year, both about myself and the situation I found myself in.  I have a new appreciation for what I had, for N and what he provided for me, but I've also grown and learnt a lesson in independence which has made me feel strengthened from within. 

I honestly don't know what next year holds for N and I.  Next year I will have to find my own place to live.  There's fear of more unknowns, but I feel equipped to cope.  I have no idea if what I am writing is a beginning or an ending; a prelude or an epilogue, whatever it is though, it's been a part of  a chaotic and emotive 2012 that I won't forget.