I talk therefore I am

Things I am:

Too loud. I have a tendency to shout if I get excited. Or make a ridiculous noise to express my delight.

Too messy. Only since I've been back at my parents though. My flat was always pristine when I lived alone. Therefore I blame the teenage rebellious mentality that comes with a return to the faimly home.

Too talkative. I talk. A lot. But only if I really like you. I have a lot to say for myself. At least 2% of which is highly valuable information.

Too excitable. See above. I get really excited by trivial things that I think are ace. A picture of a piglet in a bowler hat is just one example.

Too crude (but only in private). I am a fan of the innuendo. I am not ashamed.

Too daft. Stupid jokes, daft little songs, rubbish animal impressions. These are all part of my repertoire. But I do have a serious side. I'm not just a silly little girl. I'm a grown woman who just appreciates a bit of daftness now and again.

I am all of the above.

But you know what? I'm ok with that. There are far far worse things that I could be.

Crushing

I have odd taste in men.


The proof? I bring to you a list of my current celebrity crushes...


1) John Barrowman


What?! What the hell am I thinking? He is as gay as the day is long but I think he's sweet. Plus he has a dirty laugh. I'm a sucker for a dirty laugh (Alesha Dixon I'm looking at you). Alas, he's been with his (male) partner since 1991. I'm not holding out much hope.


2) Scott Mills


Again, as gay as the day is long. A theme seems to be developing. He's got a perma tan and comedy veneers yet still I find him attractive. It's possibly because he enjoys a glass or ten of wine as much as I do.


3) David Mitchell


I'm not sure if I fancy him more as David Mitchell or Mark Corrigan. I'd take either. C was full of 'Corriganisms' and I think that was one of the reasons I liked him so much. A bit neurotic, the product of a public school upbringing and full of quotes that I really should write down some day. "I'm thinking of going into town to buy a stylish weatherproof coat" was a particular highlight. Ironically, they did actually go to the same school, albeit a few years apart.


4) Dylan Moran


Yum. Just yum. Irish, scruffy, hilarious and with a penchant for wine. I definitely would.


So, what have we learnt? I like mildly alcoholic, neurotic, gay men.


No surprise there then.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Well it worked for him...

It's time for a change.

Well, multiple changes actually. This weekend I took a long hard look at myself and realised that I'm not entirely happy with what I see. Or, at least, I'm not entirely happy with how I see myself. I have a tendency to put myself down, to blame myself for things that aren't my fault and to beat myself up about things that are beyond my control.

Noone likes a misery. Noone wants to read the ramblings of a sad, lonely old cow. Noone wants to be around someone who can't stop moaning. I wrote a post on this back in December and I meant every single word of it. I was confident. I was happy. I was starting to love myself. But somewhere along the line... another break up, words said out of spite, grudges being held.... I lost those feelings. I lost myself.

But I'm starting to find her again. Instead of just talking about making changes, I'm actually doing it. I am changing. I am growing. Little by little I am becoming a better person. A person who won't be treated like a doormat any longer. A person with her own mind. Independent, self-assured and happy in her own skin. She will come back.

And when she does, she'll be stronger than ever before. Stronger than even I know.

"You must love yourself before you love another. By accepting yourself and fully being what you are, your simple presence can make others happy."

Save the date

Found at xkcd

Men. Take heed. Things not to do on dating sites:

• State that you're looking for a woman a) who won't nag you and b) with big breasts. It makes you look like a tosser. Women generally don't like tossers.
  
• Message someone with only the following words 'hi u luk cute lol'. Women like conversation. A bit of witty banter. A bit of a flirt. Not five words of text speak.
• Message someone with declarations that you think you could be really good together and that you'd move mountains to be with them. You've seen a couple of pictures on a website. Please get a grip.
• Similarly, if a woman doesn't reply to your message within a couple of hours, don't message again asking what you've done wrong. Desperation is not a good look.
• Don't send a message at 11.50am saying 'what are you doing today? let's go for lunch' if you've not even spoken to the person before. It makes you look like a rapist.
• Don't put pictures of yourself exclusively in 'comedy' drunken situations. Believe it or not, it is not the ambition of most women on those sites to find a man who thinks it's funny to moon at the camera. If we wanted that, we'd just head down to the nearest mid-sized chav-filled town, don some 'clothes' bought on the market and wait for the man traffic to trip over us/vomit on us/try and touch us up in an alley.

Seriously.

Summer school

Lessons I have learnt....

• Only you can make yourself happy. I think this is the hardest lesson. You can't rely on someone else to make your day ok, to make the world seem brighter and to tell you you're great. You have to be able to do it for yourself. And then, when you can, when someone else does it too, that's just the icing on the cake.
• Sometimes it's ok to let yourself cry. It doesn't mean you're weak or pathetic. If crying is your way of releasing emotions, do it. Cry, sob, lie on the floor and kick your legs in the air if you have to. People deal with things in different ways. Some cry, some get angry, some hold grudges. I cry. I think that's the least destructive of the three.
• Bad things happen. You have to deal with them and move on. In time, bad memories will fade and the good will remain.
• 35000 feet and 9500 miles are just numbers. They won't make things easier. Only I can do that.
• Eating an entire bag of Percy Piglets will make you feel sick.
• Negativity can be turned into positivity more easily than you think. Instead of wishing for a life you don't have and being down about things that are happening, use the dislike and the dissatisfaction that you feel to change things. Use it as fuel to create a happier life.
• People can and do change. But changes can mean nothing if they're not believed in.
• And finally, I have learned that it's never to late to start again and create something wonderful. But it can only work if you really really want it to.

Lessons over. Class dismissed.

Moving on up

"And sometimes you close your eyes
And see the place where you used to live"


Enough, enough now...

Dirty wizard

"Snowy" by Diana Goldstein

In the grand old tradition of finding the wonderful things in my life, rather than the mad, bad and sad, here's a little list of things that are currently delighting my face...

• A day trip to Nottingham on Thursday with my friend. Him for a prison visit (he's a probation officer, not a crim), me for lunch and a catch up with a friend from university. To reminisce and laugh and remember why I loved that city so much.
• A weekend in Edinburgh in August. I've never been to Scotland and I'm very excited. I'll be sorely disappointed if all the men aren't in kilts though. With no undies on. I may have to request my money back if I don't see some Scottish rump! (RUMP! Love that word!)
• I love this series of photographs so much. Particularly the one at the top of this entry.
• This blog entry about Kellogg's new 'Nature's Pleasure' muesli. I snorted tea through my nose while reading so it must be good. I save tea snorting for the really hilarious things. If they're only mildly amusing I simply pour it down myself instead. It's my hilarity tea-o-meter. Trust it.
• One & Other is still filling my work skiving time quite nicely. Best = the woman who dressed as a pigeon and flapped a lot. Worst = anyone who talks about religion or politics.
• Miscellaneous other things include; lemon & ginger tea, it's pay day on Friday, wonderful messages and comments from my favourite lady bloggers, the bit in Bruno where he calls Osama Bin Laden a 'dirty wizard', multivitamins, Yellow Tail Shiraz, vanilla fudge, finding my smile again, sun, Bramble cocktails.

Et tu?

Small steps

Via PostSecret

I'm bored of myself.


Completely and utterly bored of myself. A few short months ago I absolutely loved the person I was. I was confident, happy and in control. I'd made such huge changes in myself in such a short space of time and I was so proud of myself. But I've let myself slip back into old habits. I've let myself think that I'm the problem. That I'm the one with the issues. But I'm not. I'm really, really not.

So it stops. Now.

I'm worth so much more than this. So, I'm going to get back on track. I'm going to get back on the weight loss wagon. The exercise wagon. The 'I'm fucking fabulous' wagon. Because I am, you know? I really, really am. And I refuse to let someone else's issues make me feel terrible about myself. Never again will I let someone else project their problems onto me, and make me feel like I'm the one with those problems.


So, some goals:

• To lose a stone before one of my best friend's weddings. It's on 12th September. I will run, eat salads, refuse crisps and drink nothing but water and green tea until I'm 14 pounds of horrible fat lighter.
• To take every opportunity that comes my way. I'm going to accept every invitation I get to go for drinks, dinner, cinema, etc. No more moping in the house for me.
  
• To spend less time on the internet. There's a whole world out there and mooning over old blog posts and photos isn't going to enable me to see it.
• To start painting again. I'm actually quite a talented artist when I put my mind to it and I miss being creative. So paint I shall. I might even do a series of paintings. I shall name them 'Adventures with an Imbecile.'
• To laugh until I cry at least once a day. Even if it's only at my own jokes. Laughter is the best medicine.
  

I will find my way through this. And the best way to do that? By living a full and happy life.

I'm back. I hope.

The invisible woman

Found on LeLove

Things are... odd.


I feel numb. Completely and utterly numb. I'm not crying (not all the time, anyway) but I'm not laughing. I'm not despairing but I'm not on top of the world. I'm just numb. I feel like I'm in limbo.

Waiting.

Waiting to be told what went wrong. Waiting to be told why I'm just not good enough. Waiting to be told why he ran away. Waiting. All I really want is some answers, then I can make my peace with it and try and understand what happened. Understand what changed so much in two weeks that suddenly I don't exist. That suddenly I don't deserve even the most basic human responses. Those of being acknowledged, of kindness, and a little bit of compassion, of trying to understand how I feel. Of realising how much it hurts to be made to feel invisible.

The past few weeks have contained some of the happiest and some of the saddest times of my life. I realise I'm being rather cryptic in relation to some of them. But all will be explained at some point I'm sure. When I've made sense of it in my own head. It could take a while.

Aside from the cancer, the broken wrist, the realisation that I'm more overweight than I thought I was (seriously, I have inverse body dysmorphia. I think I look great when, apparently, I look like a sow), I also feel completely out of my depth at work. The work piles up on my desk every day, bigger and bigger files keep being passed my way. And, to be honest, right now I have neither the capability nor the inclination to deal with them. My concentration levels are at an all-time low and I can barely even hold a train of thought together long enough to write this post.

I am shambolic.

And the worst bit? It doesn't need to be this way. If he could just look me in the eye and tell me what happened. If he could just show me a little bit of the man I know (and I'm not talking about genitalia here folks, just to clarify). The man who made me feel safe and loved. Who treated me like a princess. Who leapt out of bed to fetch whatever food or drink I wanted to get me through my hangover. If he could just be him. And treat me with the respect I deserve. That I've earned.


Then it wouldn't be this way.

See me

I'm not here today. No really, I'm not. I'm here.

"All I know is that you’re so nice, you’re the nicest thing I’ve seen. I wish that we could give it a go, see if we could be something.

I wish I was your favourite girl. I wish you thought I was the reason you are in the world. I wish my smile was your favourite kind of smile. I wish the way that I dressed was your favourite kind of style.

I wish you couldn’t figure me out — but you’d always want to know what I was about. I wish you’d hold my hand when I was upset. I wish you’d never forget the look on my face when we first met.

I wish you had a favourite beauty spot that you loved secretly, ’cause it was on a hidden bit that nobody else could see. Basically, I wish that you loved me. I wish that you needed me. I wish that you knew when I said two sugars, actually I meant three.

I wish that without me your heart would break. I wish that without me you’d be spending the rest of your nights awake. I wish that without me you couldn’t eat. I wish I was the last thing on your mind before you went to sleep.

Look, all I know is that you’re the nicest thing I’ve ever seen. & I wish that we could see if we could be something. Yeah, I wish that we could see if we could be something."

--- Kate Nash, 'Nicest Thing'

Kerching

Snagria. Get your snag on.

Today rocks.

Why?

• Percy Piglets in my desk drawer. I may just eat the whole bag. I prefer them to Percy Pigs. They're smaller, less obnoxiously chewy and I can fit more of them in my mouth at once. And we all know that I live for how much I can fit in my mouth at once. Badumtish.


• Tapas for tea! Tis the Mother's 65th birthday today and in honour of her becoming even older and even greyer, we're going to gorge ourselves on Spanish treats. I may gorge myself on a Spanish waiter too, but that depends entirely on how much Sangria I get through. I just typed Snagria. Which sounds less like a wine and fruit concotion and more like something you'd actually catch from a Spanish waiter.


• Sun! The sun has returned from its gloomy hiatus and sprinkled its rays of joy on Warrington. Sun makes everything better. FACT.


• Exciting plans for the weekend are taking shape. And by exciting I clearly mean booze-laden. And by booze-laden I clearly mean drinking until I feel it's appropriate to fall in a gutter. And by fall in a gutter I mean... You get the picture.


• And last but not least.... I've been given a pay rise!! A four grand pay rise to be precise. And yes, I know it's vulgar to talk about money and no, I don't care. Because this is the best work-related thing to ever happen to me and I'm damn well going to shout about it. I work hard for what I get and it's so nice to be rewarded. When a lot of things in my life have turned to crap, it's nice to get some good news and to have something to smile about.

And smiling I am. For the first time in about a month.

I wouldn't count on it to last though.

How did I get here?

From the beginning...

I've just been for lunch at a friend's house and she gave me a right talking to. I am so lucky to have so many beautiful, strong, empowered women in my life. They keep me on track. They keep me strong. They make me see that it wasn't my fault this time. That I did my best. That I tried. That all I was guilty of was loving someone too much. Someone who couldn't let himself be loved.

They make me see that I couldn't have done any more. That I can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped.

They make me see that I've tried to be the bigger person. That I've tried to leave things on a good note. That I've tried to gain some sort of closure. That I've asked for an explanation. That I was willing to still be there as a friend, despite everything. Despite the hurt and the lies and the declarations that were swiftly taken back through cowardice and panic.

So although the tears may still fall, they're not tears because I want to reignite things. They're tears for what could have been. Tears of disappointment. Tears for broken promises and a future that seemed so clear. Tears of confusion. But you know what? I'll never regret it. I'll never regret New York or Greece or the festivals we went to. I'll never regret the endless days spent laughing. The nights out, the meals, the bottles of wine. The love.

But when someone can't even ask if you're ok despite knowing that your Dad's got cancer. Despite knowing that you feel as though your world's crumbling around you. If they can't even be a friend in your darkest hour, then those people don't deserve you.

And they probably never did.

... to The End.

“Things usually work out in the end.”

“What if they don’t?”
“That just means you haven’t come to the end yet.”

– The Glass Castle, Jeannette Walls

The big 'C'

So. Cancer, then.

The dreaded 'c' word. It's not fun is it.

I'm reeling right now from the news that my Dad's Consultant was wrong. It has spread. There are cancerous cells in his stomach. Which means he can't have radiotherapy, it's too invasive and might damage the stomach. So he's faced with a choice. Have hormone therapy injections for life or take part in a clinical trial that will most probably involve chemotherapy.

Ah, chemotherapy. The other dreaded 'c' word. I saw my Mum go through chemotherapy for breast cancer a few years ago and it was pretty much soul destroying. I've always seen my Dad as this big, strong, invincible man. I can't bear the thought of him losing his hair (what little the baldy has left anyway), of him being weak, of him being sick. I don't want to see my Dad as fragile. I guess I don't want to face his mortality. I don't want to face the possibility that the treatment, God forbid, might not work. Stupid selfish thoughts enter my head like 'who'll help me decorate my first house?', 'who'll give me away when I get married?'. But the overriding thought?

I don't want my Dad to die.

He's the most decent, honest, wonderful man in the whole world and I can't imagine how dark my world would be without him in it.


Of course, I'm reeling. I'm in shock. I'm probably overreacting. But when cancer steps up and smacks you in the face, it's hard not to fear the worst.

Yes....

Yes, I have just bought 'Closer' magazine. Celebrity gossip is my guilty pleasure. After years of slogging through law books and a job that entails hours and hours of reading legal cases, sometimes it's nice to read about Jordan and Chezza Cole.

Yes, I think it is acceptable to eat leftover pizza, chinese takeaway, cheese and biscuits and KFC (it opens at 11am! AM! see?) for breakfast. It's hark back to my student days and I don't see anything wrong with it.

Yes, I cry too much. It's not an attempt to make anyone feel guilty, or to gain sympathy. It's just how I am. I cry when I'm happy, I cry when I'm sad, I cry when I'm angry. It helps to get it out of my system. I'd rather be this way than bottle things up and become resentful.

Yes, I get hurt by 'playful banter' sometimes and yet, at other times, I can take it and give it back as good as I get. I'm getting better.

Yes, I over analyse things to the point of ridiculousness. I take a throwaway comment, or snappy remark, and I think about it and turn it around and look at it from every angle. It's not because I'm neurotic or crazy. I just want to make sure everything's ok. I'm learning to let go a little.

Yes, I talk too much. I fill silences that don't need to be filled. But it's not because I feel awkward or feel like something needs to be said, I just have a lot of words in my head. Sometimes (most of the time) they spill out. If I overtalk when I'm around you, it means I think you're pretty special.

Yes, I am immature sometimes. I laugh at words like 'penetrate' and 'erect'. I giggle at 'homosapien' and 'moist'. I can make an innuendo out of anything and make even the most innocent words sound rude. It's just my sense of humour. It may not be ladylike but I never do it in inappropriate situations (well, almost never).

Yes, sometimes I need a hug or a few nice words if I'm having a particularly crappy time. It's not because I want to seem like a damsel in distress, it's just because, sometimes, it's nice to know that someone cares.

Yes, I get stressed and moody and I find it difficult to cope sometimes. Just give me time and a bit of love and I'll talk myself out of it eventually.

Yes, I am an idiot. I am daft to the point of irritation. I will make up songs, I will make stupid jokes, I will oink at you or make a noise like a squawking crow. If I do these things around you, again, it's because I think you're marvellous and I feel like I can be myself around you. Cherish it.

Yes, I am all of the above. And so many more. But everyone has their faults, don't they?

(Idea pinched from acheerydisposition)

To flirt or not to flirt?

Old Faithful (geddit?)

Are people ever faithful?

I mean, totally and utterly faithful? Mentally, physically, emotionally.

I'm not so sure anymore.

I used to believe that when I met 'the one' (HA! ridiculous romantic notion #1) I wouldn't look at another man ever again. That I wouldn't be curious as to what they might look like in their undercrackers (great word) or even without. That I wouldn't think about how they might kiss. How they'd smell. Whether they could make me laugh or not. That I wouldn't think 'what if?'

But, these days, I think I've changed my mind. I'm now of the school that it's perfectly normal (maybe even healthy?) to find other people attractive, even when you're with someone you really love and want to spend the foreseeable future with. But is that cheating? Is that being mentally unfaithful? I've wrestled with this question long and hard and I think my answer is 'no'. I think it's ok to notice other people, to find them attractive, even to flirt a little, to get the validation that comes with being found attractive by someone other than your partner. It doesn't mean you love the person you're with any less. It just means you're human. I think.

What do you think?

Sparky

Photo by scoobymoo

I miss a lot of things. A huge amount. Innumerable. Far too many to mention. Too personal to mention. But of all those things, do you know what I miss the most?


My sparkle (and no, that's not a euphemism)


Of all the things I love about myself (and there are some, despite my moaning) it was my crowning glory. My spark. My wit. My spunk (again, no euphemism, stop sniggering). The fact I could laugh in the face of pain. My unfailing ability to look on the bright side and always hope for better, always hope for happiness. Only, it's been taken. Taken by mistrust, by lies, by hurt, by confusion. And I don't know how to get it back.

But I will. I will not be beaten. Not this time. Or ever again.


This time baby, i'll be bulletproof...

Glastonbury: in pictures

A few Glastonbury gems for you (I say gems but, in reality, these photos are obviously the product of too much cider)....

Arrived! A mere 14 hours after we set off from home we were all set up and ready to barbecue. 12 and a half hours in the car was not something I ever wish to repeat but, somehow, the minute you're there it all seems worthwhile. The magic of Glastonbury is alive and well.

Tent city. But the lights, the lights! Look how they sparkle! Look at them shine! We camped on the Dairy Ground this year and it was pretty much perfect. On a slope, not too far to walk and nice and quiet at night for old bids like myself who need at least some sleep.

This was taken pre-rain. Look at my little smiling, slightly grubby, slightly (actually, maybe grossly) drunk face. Oh I do love me a festival in the sunshine. However, a mere half hour later this was the deal...

Rain = not my friend. I like to call this photo 'Fuming of Warrington'. I think my anger lasted until about 2 minutes later, when I got another glass of cider placed in my little fist.

Me, the friends, some random woman and MICHAEL EAVIS! Shame I got Mr Shaky Hand man to take it though. Still, at least this way you can't see my unbelieveable sunburn and my hair that took on Monica from Friends in the humidity proportions. Shocking.

The wishing tree. Every year I make a wish. For the last two years it's been the same one. Take a wild guess...

I found this amongst the old wishes from years gone by. How topical. And slightly terrifying. The wishing tree clearly has too much power. It must be feared.

The flags. The ubiquitous bloody flags. They're everywhere. "I'm by the flags!" comes the eternal cry. "Which ones?" comes the rage-filled reply. Flags = the scourge of lost festival goers.

Ah, Blur. I think this was during 'Tender'. They were amazing. I last saw Blur in 1994. That's 15 years ago. I'm officially old.

Roll on 2010!!

Don't get discouraged

I love that quote. Someone emailed it to me last week and it brought a little tear to my eye. Sentimental old bag that I am.

And the place? Ullswater. Beautiful, beautiful Ullswater in the Lake District. Scene of some very happy times. Some of the happiest actually.

Sometimes it's nice to remember. To see that it was real.


Normal service to be resumed shortly, once I get through my maudlin, woe is me crap. Bear with me...

Pity the fool

I've started and re-started this entry about ten times today. I can't seem to find the words to say what I want to say. What I need to say. I feel hurt and betrayed, humiliated and let down.


But more than anything?


I feel like a fool.

A fool for believing that those beautiful words of a few weeks ago were true. For believing that anybody could feel that way about me. For believing that all my dreams and more had come true, just like that. I finally felt like all the pain had been worthwhile, all the battles, all the love and patience and time that I'd given. All the reassurances I'd provided. All the times I'd dropped everything and been his rock, his shoulder to cry on, an ear for his troubles and worries. I felt like I was finally getting something back. Something that I'd yearned for for so long.

It was one of the best days of my life. Filled with love and laughter and deep, deep affection. A certainty that everything was going to be ok, at last. Promises of change, of a future, of happiness, of love. A touch of my face, an adoring smile, the three words that every girl wants to hear. It was beautiful and romantic and emotional.

And now? Nothing. A broken heart. A shattered dream of a future that will never be. An emptiness inside that won't be filled.

I didn't expect the world. I didn't expect miracles to happen and for everything to instantly be ok. I just wanted things to stay as they were. Easy and uncomplicated and secure.

Why did three little words have to change things so drastically?

I don't know what to do or what to say anymore.


I am a parody of my former self.