Showing posts with label bar one. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bar one. Show all posts
Saturday, 22 January 2011
Day 16 - A drunk photo of you.
Saturday, 11 December 2010
Day 05 - A picture of your favorite memory.
for me, it's Bar One, collectively. this particular photo was from the day my citizenship was approved, but Bar One was a home away from home for me that made my life magical. personal celebrations, gigs, chainsmoking sessions and nights in after everyone had long gone.
i love everything that makes Bar One what it is and i thank everyone who i met there, for they made it what it was.
<3
Friday, 12 November 2010
i will never accept defeat, i will never quit...
wednesday night became the night that i officially learned how hard it is to be the significant other of someone in the ARMY.
wednesday night i made Muffin ring his commander back, which forced him back into work.
wednesday night i hated myself so much for having him ring his commander back that i drank half a bottle of rum, took a two-hour long bath with the music playing loudly and then spent the following three hours in between vomiting sessions.
today. i still want to die.
i never realized it was so hard. i never realized that i would feel so lonely and i never, ever realized how much his job would affect me.
not all of it has to do with his job. a lot of it is me. like, 3/4 of it is me, my womb and my overactive imagination, but because of his schedule, i am forced to be home, alone, constantly during the day and in the evenings he is just too tired to have much to do with me beyond eating the meal i've cooked and lying in bed with the telly on until he falls asleep within half an hour.
i try to occupy myself. i work out. i jog. i play with the dog. i tidy. i cook. i bake.
none of it seems to offer me any sort of comfort or relief though. at the end of every single day, i still feel the same amount of lonely that i felt when i woke up. the kind of lonely that completely consumes you. the kind of lonely that is stripping me of any desire to continue the routines that i had built up for myself during the days. i've no desire to do the dishes anymore. the laundry only gets done every other day now. i just feel gross and don't want to do much more than smoke and sleep. constantly (but not at the same time, mind, as i am VERY health and safety conscious and am aware that smoking AND sleeping, whilst done in tandem do not mix well).
my bath wednesday night was a drunken release that i've long needed. each of the songs that swirled through the air gave me a different set of memories and images to mull over and pine after.
first was Give and Take by Broken Family Band. a song who's lyrics feel incredibly apt currently. i listened to it on repeat for twenty minutes... the lyrics taking me on an emotional rollercoaster, thinking of Christopher and the destruction of our relationship and thinking of the route my relationship with Muffin is taking now, which leads me to become terrified that i might be the girl described in the song.
second was hit or miss by New Found Glory, which was always OUR song... the song Muffin and i would listen to on repeat until the CD skipped from overuse. i remembered the way we used to sing it and the night, two weeks ago that it came on whilst we were in bed... the way he looked at me and the way he held me as we sang along to the lyrics we had memorized long ago.
third completely took me by surprise in the form of here's what's left by RJD2, a band i'd never in my life heard of, but instantly made me hurt for Bar One, Nick, Franny and everyone that i spent of my evenings with. it's a weirdly beautiful song that even now i find myself traveling back to to wrap myself in the lyrics of.
fourth was to be expected, and was wild is the wind by cat power. the instant it came on i died. the song that jaacqy and i bonded over and the song that reminds me how much i love him and how beautiful he is. it's such a delicately beautiful song with lyrics that make me long for his hugs and kisses.
fifth, as per, ruined me a'la Mr Powers... it was butcher's girl and took me immediately back to eleven in the pee em, six days before i left england. it took me back to the playdate we had with graham that was used as a bit of a practice session for them, but also as a chance for me to film Pow one last time. i cried as i watched him perform, as i usually do, because he is such a strong performer. i cried wednesday because i miss him. i miss having THAT as a best friend. i hate how things have ended and i hurt almost constantly for my Pow Pow and all the things that made our friendship what it was.
as i was pulling myself drunkenly out of the bath the final song came on... one that instantly destroys me on site every. single. time. i hear it. always by bon jovi is OUR song... janey and me. hearing that song brings back so, SO many memories of our first playdate ever, ruining Poison Bear's will to live and... everything. i miss her so much and in the drunken state i was stuck in, i found myself particularly fragile and needed a hug... something i did not get. not even from Booger, who seems to hate it when i sing loudly and obnoxiously.
today... i am still in that fragile hungover state where eating is difficult and all i want is to OMGDRINKALLTHEWATER! i feel lonely and am stuck home again because Muffin has to pull an overnight shift... i just want a hug. i just want to feel okay again. when will that happen?
perhaps after some homemade cookies and a boardgame night with the Lunas. meh. we'll see.
wednesday night i made Muffin ring his commander back, which forced him back into work.
wednesday night i hated myself so much for having him ring his commander back that i drank half a bottle of rum, took a two-hour long bath with the music playing loudly and then spent the following three hours in between vomiting sessions.
today. i still want to die.
i never realized it was so hard. i never realized that i would feel so lonely and i never, ever realized how much his job would affect me.
not all of it has to do with his job. a lot of it is me. like, 3/4 of it is me, my womb and my overactive imagination, but because of his schedule, i am forced to be home, alone, constantly during the day and in the evenings he is just too tired to have much to do with me beyond eating the meal i've cooked and lying in bed with the telly on until he falls asleep within half an hour.
i try to occupy myself. i work out. i jog. i play with the dog. i tidy. i cook. i bake.
none of it seems to offer me any sort of comfort or relief though. at the end of every single day, i still feel the same amount of lonely that i felt when i woke up. the kind of lonely that completely consumes you. the kind of lonely that is stripping me of any desire to continue the routines that i had built up for myself during the days. i've no desire to do the dishes anymore. the laundry only gets done every other day now. i just feel gross and don't want to do much more than smoke and sleep. constantly (but not at the same time, mind, as i am VERY health and safety conscious and am aware that smoking AND sleeping, whilst done in tandem do not mix well).
my bath wednesday night was a drunken release that i've long needed. each of the songs that swirled through the air gave me a different set of memories and images to mull over and pine after.
first was Give and Take by Broken Family Band. a song who's lyrics feel incredibly apt currently. i listened to it on repeat for twenty minutes... the lyrics taking me on an emotional rollercoaster, thinking of Christopher and the destruction of our relationship and thinking of the route my relationship with Muffin is taking now, which leads me to become terrified that i might be the girl described in the song.
second was hit or miss by New Found Glory, which was always OUR song... the song Muffin and i would listen to on repeat until the CD skipped from overuse. i remembered the way we used to sing it and the night, two weeks ago that it came on whilst we were in bed... the way he looked at me and the way he held me as we sang along to the lyrics we had memorized long ago.
third completely took me by surprise in the form of here's what's left by RJD2, a band i'd never in my life heard of, but instantly made me hurt for Bar One, Nick, Franny and everyone that i spent of my evenings with. it's a weirdly beautiful song that even now i find myself traveling back to to wrap myself in the lyrics of.
fourth was to be expected, and was wild is the wind by cat power. the instant it came on i died. the song that jaacqy and i bonded over and the song that reminds me how much i love him and how beautiful he is. it's such a delicately beautiful song with lyrics that make me long for his hugs and kisses.
fifth, as per, ruined me a'la Mr Powers... it was butcher's girl and took me immediately back to eleven in the pee em, six days before i left england. it took me back to the playdate we had with graham that was used as a bit of a practice session for them, but also as a chance for me to film Pow one last time. i cried as i watched him perform, as i usually do, because he is such a strong performer. i cried wednesday because i miss him. i miss having THAT as a best friend. i hate how things have ended and i hurt almost constantly for my Pow Pow and all the things that made our friendship what it was.
as i was pulling myself drunkenly out of the bath the final song came on... one that instantly destroys me on site every. single. time. i hear it. always by bon jovi is OUR song... janey and me. hearing that song brings back so, SO many memories of our first playdate ever, ruining Poison Bear's will to live and... everything. i miss her so much and in the drunken state i was stuck in, i found myself particularly fragile and needed a hug... something i did not get. not even from Booger, who seems to hate it when i sing loudly and obnoxiously.
today... i am still in that fragile hungover state where eating is difficult and all i want is to OMGDRINKALLTHEWATER! i feel lonely and am stuck home again because Muffin has to pull an overnight shift... i just want a hug. i just want to feel okay again. when will that happen?
perhaps after some homemade cookies and a boardgame night with the Lunas. meh. we'll see.
Wednesday, 7 July 2010
a little late, but with good effort...
I actually typed this list up yesterday, but the occurrance of many fabulous things made it impossible for me to post it... so here we are. It's still Tuesday SOMEWHERE, isn't it?
Today I am tired. It was a long weekend made magical by the occurrence of good gigs, good food, good hair and general goodness. Despite the wonderful weekend I still have little things looming over my head… things which I’ll not go over now because this is meant to be a blog about hearting things… so let’s get on with the list!
Nick... easy first one for this week. First, because we have spent a lot of wonderful time together and second, because it is his birthday (YAY!)! Mr Parker and I have been spending a lot of time together… I think that we are both realising that I am leaving soon and we should have really started hanging out more often like, a year earlier (well, I think that, I can’t speak for him, but I DO love to think that people enjoy spending time with me and wish they had met me sooner, like I do them). We are in the process of planning a lot of playdates (seaside camping, trips to his sister’s farm and nights out to see what kind of special transvestites Derby can throw at us) and I seem to be lying in constant wait for days that we get to spend together. The most magical thing I can think of at the moment and what will most likely end up being my fondest memory of Nick occurred on Sunday afternoon after a stint of working in the kitchen with him. I had been emotionally fraught for the entirety of the morning and after he made me cry (not because he’s horrible, but because I was a hormonal, over-reacting weenie who needed to get a freaking GRIP). He and I were sat near the back door of the pub, ready to hop to attention the moment the comedy-attendees outside were released for an interval, when I asked him what he always wanted to be when he grew up (this thought came as I was sat watching him as he bumbled around behind the bar being all cute and personable and very much like someone actually CREATED him to do that job). He immediately stopped, look at me in a very matter-of-fact manner and said that he always wanted to be a cloud but that his mum had to break it to him that this was not possible, as he was not made of gas and air, so he decided he wanted to be an assassin. We then proceeded to discuss how incredible he would be as an assassin whilst Buddy licked my right hand and I sipped a cola with three ice cubes and one slice of smooshed lemon. It seems that the scenes of most of my favourite memories at the moment are set at Bar One, the leading man being Nick with me as his leading lady, Buddy would be the wacky side-kick and… sigh. I just love Nick… I wish everyone who is reading this could just come to the pub and meet him and fall in love with him like I have. He is such a beautiful, genuine and fun person to be around and I’ve no idea what I will do without him for thirteen months.
MY HAIR… it appears my hair is only capable of looking like win… no matter how nervous I get about doing my hair a certain new way or cutting it a certain way (yeah, I get nervous about hairstyles occasionally, shut up) I always seem to come out looking incredible. My most recent hairspiration came after I had asked all my favourites if I should bleach my hairs again. They all concluded I should. That was going to be that though, I was going to go lighter and keep doing my hair the same old way… this all changed Saturday morning when, after a drunken sleepover with Nick I pranced (yes, folks, I DO prance in the mornings, hangover or not… I LOVE mornings and people who are forced to be near me at this time immediately hate me) in with a cup of tea to see that Nick’s hair looked EXACTLY the same as it did the night before… I enquired as to how this occurred, what special, magical powers did he possess that made his hair behave so well and how could I get my hands on a bit of THAT shizz? He then bestowed upon me his secrets and it was good. The instant he left I made Pow attend to the bathroom with me to deposit bleach onto my hairs… we talked and giggled and joked that we were just like “girlfriends.” I let it set for a short period before rinsing and repeating. Once my hairs were light enough for my liking I began the rigorous task of coiffing. I teased, brushed, slicked on product (which, if any of you know me, you KNOW that I do not use product in my hair!) and teased a little more before ending up with the most beautiful, majestic coif anyone has ever seen. It is massive, blonde and stays so well that I have not had to do anything to make it look better since Saturday. I wake up, pop some pins in my hair and am ready to rock-and-roll. So there we are… I love my hair and you should all be jealous!
My ipod
Pow Pow… literally, my favourite person in the world. Why, you ask? I’ll set the scene: it was a Wednesday afternoon, we were at CEX, perusing the DVDs for something stupendous to add to our collection… him near World Cinema, me near Documentaries… we had been shouting at one another in Southern accents all day. Whilst I am running my fingertips across the titles spanning from Auschwitz to Sharks he says to me, “OH! I saw a shop this morning that was selling Toy Story toys!” I turned to him and smirked (this is because whilst I know why this is important to me, I wanted to make sure that POW knew why this was important to me and that he wasn’t just spouting out random nonsense) and asked him why I would want to know such information. He looked at me with a DVD in his hands and said, “Because it was your sister’s first date with her husband and she collects stuff from it.” literally, I almost died right there in that shop… I hopped over to him and rubbed his arm, completely unaware of how he had come to know this information but full of happies because he did. This boy who most would see as a useless, forgetful silly-billy actually listens and remembers things when they are really important. Aside from this special moment we shared, our lives together have been completely blissful. We exist on a day-to-day basis in such a fun, perfect way that I can’t understand how I never spent this much time with him before. When Nick and Franny came round the other night we bumbled around the house making cups of tea and burgers, talking amongst ourselves for about ten minutes before Nick said that we were like some demented couple from a bad sitcom. I love that about us. I love that we can have so much fun together and I love… sigh. I was laid in bed last night after a fabulous evening of din dins (homemade spaghetti bolognaise, in case you were wondering), ice cream and films… we had been laid on the sofa for several hours taking in everything Clive Barker and Stephen King had to offer us, both eating out of the same tub of ice cream and randomly chatting before we had our nightly hug at the top of the stairs and went to our perspective rooms and texted each other from bed until we fell asleep (yeah, I get it, we’re homosexuals). As I was drifting off I rolled over and thought to myself that this is my best friend and I have no idea how I am going to spend a year away from him… how I am going to go a year without having his reassuring glances, his jokes and random singing… nobody knows me as well as Pow does and I worry nobody ever will. He’s amazing and I love our friendship so, so much. Being away from him is gonna make this the hardest thirteen months of my life.
Franny
Sellotape… OMG!! ON EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME!
Dr Pepper
REALLY creamy yoghurt
Flowers in the Attic… the film and the book… not random flowers on the upper-level of a house.
Chicken
Sweet Peas
John Goodman
Deep Heat
Watching the stars at night… I’ve only recently come to find the joys of the really little things in life. The stars became my bff at three on Sunday morning after the gig at Bar One. Pow and I were walking home and just as we turned onto our street Pow caused a massive scene, flailing his arms around and shouting about how great the stars were. This came after another scene which saw him tell me about how much he needed the toilet, a cup of tea and some toast. I told him I would take care of the toast and the tea if he went to the toilet and asked if we could PLEASE sit out in the garden and watch the stars. He said yes and I went on to tell him that I had never seen a shooting-star. We approached our door and he said he would make me one… he turned me around and pointed to a gap between some houses and said to watch there. I watched as he un-locked the door and pretended to be talking to the sky, beseeching for it to supply us with a shooting-star. I turned to him and giggled and he said to keep looking. I watched and he shot his hand across my line of vision then shouted and asked if I had seen it. I clearly had and thanked him. he then burst through the door to the toilet as I made cups of tea and perched outside on a cushion. He minced down the stairs and shouted that we needed to eat scones. So there we were, half past three in the morning, eating scones, drinking tea and watching the stars. We talked about how much we were going to miss each other and how good ASDA’s baked-goods were until we decided it was time to go in. like I said, the stars are my new bff… how could someone have an experience like that and NOT love them?!
“Red Light Special” by TLC
Dexter
Daisies
Gardening
Hellraiser
Pubic hair
Disabled animals
Tight shirts on big guns
Snow globes
People-watching with Janey… because there is nobody in the entire world I am more belligerent, judgemental and out-of-control with than janey. We entertain most of the people within our direct vicinity with our incessant discussions about how much we hate that person’s trousers or that man’s pink shirt or OMG that child’s face. We are delightful and fun and it’s one of my favourite things to do with one of my favourite people.
Giving back rubs
My mugs
New York accents
Palindromes
Serial Killers
Saying “GOOOD!”
Videos of people getting their throats cut
Anatomy documentaries
Telling people about my Carbon Monoxide Poisoning incident… oh yes… tiny danie, aged seven. The sky was full of flurries and I was asleep in the back of our old car. I don’t actually remember anything from that night, just what my mum told me… that I had shot up, started trying to take my trousers off and then passed-out again. my mum grabbed me and hung my head out the window as her boyfriend drove us to the hospital. I was air-lifted to the children’s hospital in Denver and was there for several weeks, watching The Little Mermaid constantly until I was allowed to go home… I always find it fun and interesting to be able to tell people that I had such a serious accident (can it be referred to as an ‘accident?’ it’s not technically an accident, is it?) when I was a child.
Thick-framed glasses
Getting lovely emails from people
Rubber gloves
Lobsters
The first shopping adventure Pow and I had together at ASDA… mmhmm! We spent three hours and £122 there last Tuesday afternoon and every single second of it was amazingly fun. I don’t think we went out of our Southern characters once during the entire shopping experience and I don’t imagine anyone’s ever been stared at so many times as this girl with a coif and ducks tattooed on the side of her head!
Tiny, fluffy dogs
Oranges
Curly fries
BBQ Sauce
Scissors
Cherry Carmex
Chewing on wax
Tipp-Ex
Popping my neck
Water chestnuts
Feeling like an adult
Good shoes
Being in charge
Geometric patterns
Talking with Pow in a southern accent
My new sausage dog handbag
Imagining being Muffin’s “trophy wife”
The Simpsons
Smoked meat
Good habits
Whoopie Goldberg
Easter-European men
Suckers
Stigmata
Halloween
Ice cream trucks
Tortoise-shell glasses
“Simon Says”
Good pens
“Candyman”
Strong jaw lines
Selena
Marshmallows
Facial wipes
Grape jelly sweets
Scones
Buttercream icing
Jeff Bridges
Good textures
Squids
“The Men Who Stare At Goats”
George Clooney
When Pow talks to Chevy
Popping blisters
When Pow calls me “Superdan”
Buzzards
When clergy are Irish in films
When records skip
Billy Ray Cyrus
When my head’s freshly-shaved
Letterman jackets
The smell of fresh roses
1950’s Cadallacs
Today I am tired. It was a long weekend made magical by the occurrence of good gigs, good food, good hair and general goodness. Despite the wonderful weekend I still have little things looming over my head… things which I’ll not go over now because this is meant to be a blog about hearting things… so let’s get on with the list!
Nick... easy first one for this week. First, because we have spent a lot of wonderful time together and second, because it is his birthday (YAY!)! Mr Parker and I have been spending a lot of time together… I think that we are both realising that I am leaving soon and we should have really started hanging out more often like, a year earlier (well, I think that, I can’t speak for him, but I DO love to think that people enjoy spending time with me and wish they had met me sooner, like I do them). We are in the process of planning a lot of playdates (seaside camping, trips to his sister’s farm and nights out to see what kind of special transvestites Derby can throw at us) and I seem to be lying in constant wait for days that we get to spend together. The most magical thing I can think of at the moment and what will most likely end up being my fondest memory of Nick occurred on Sunday afternoon after a stint of working in the kitchen with him. I had been emotionally fraught for the entirety of the morning and after he made me cry (not because he’s horrible, but because I was a hormonal, over-reacting weenie who needed to get a freaking GRIP). He and I were sat near the back door of the pub, ready to hop to attention the moment the comedy-attendees outside were released for an interval, when I asked him what he always wanted to be when he grew up (this thought came as I was sat watching him as he bumbled around behind the bar being all cute and personable and very much like someone actually CREATED him to do that job). He immediately stopped, look at me in a very matter-of-fact manner and said that he always wanted to be a cloud but that his mum had to break it to him that this was not possible, as he was not made of gas and air, so he decided he wanted to be an assassin. We then proceeded to discuss how incredible he would be as an assassin whilst Buddy licked my right hand and I sipped a cola with three ice cubes and one slice of smooshed lemon. It seems that the scenes of most of my favourite memories at the moment are set at Bar One, the leading man being Nick with me as his leading lady, Buddy would be the wacky side-kick and… sigh. I just love Nick… I wish everyone who is reading this could just come to the pub and meet him and fall in love with him like I have. He is such a beautiful, genuine and fun person to be around and I’ve no idea what I will do without him for thirteen months.
My ipod
Franny
Sellotape… OMG!! ON EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME!
Dr Pepper
REALLY creamy yoghurt
Flowers in the Attic… the film and the book… not random flowers on the upper-level of a house.
Chicken
Sweet Peas
John Goodman
Deep Heat
Watching the stars at night… I’ve only recently come to find the joys of the really little things in life. The stars became my bff at three on Sunday morning after the gig at Bar One. Pow and I were walking home and just as we turned onto our street Pow caused a massive scene, flailing his arms around and shouting about how great the stars were. This came after another scene which saw him tell me about how much he needed the toilet, a cup of tea and some toast. I told him I would take care of the toast and the tea if he went to the toilet and asked if we could PLEASE sit out in the garden and watch the stars. He said yes and I went on to tell him that I had never seen a shooting-star. We approached our door and he said he would make me one… he turned me around and pointed to a gap between some houses and said to watch there. I watched as he un-locked the door and pretended to be talking to the sky, beseeching for it to supply us with a shooting-star. I turned to him and giggled and he said to keep looking. I watched and he shot his hand across my line of vision then shouted and asked if I had seen it. I clearly had and thanked him. he then burst through the door to the toilet as I made cups of tea and perched outside on a cushion. He minced down the stairs and shouted that we needed to eat scones. So there we were, half past three in the morning, eating scones, drinking tea and watching the stars. We talked about how much we were going to miss each other and how good ASDA’s baked-goods were until we decided it was time to go in. like I said, the stars are my new bff… how could someone have an experience like that and NOT love them?!“Red Light Special” by TLC
Dexter
Daisies
Gardening
Hellraiser
Pubic hair
Disabled animals
Tight shirts on big guns
Snow globes
People-watching with Janey… because there is nobody in the entire world I am more belligerent, judgemental and out-of-control with than janey. We entertain most of the people within our direct vicinity with our incessant discussions about how much we hate that person’s trousers or that man’s pink shirt or OMG that child’s face. We are delightful and fun and it’s one of my favourite things to do with one of my favourite people.
Giving back rubs
My mugs
New York accents
Palindromes
Serial Killers
Saying “GOOOD!”
Videos of people getting their throats cut
Anatomy documentaries
Telling people about my Carbon Monoxide Poisoning incident… oh yes… tiny danie, aged seven. The sky was full of flurries and I was asleep in the back of our old car. I don’t actually remember anything from that night, just what my mum told me… that I had shot up, started trying to take my trousers off and then passed-out again. my mum grabbed me and hung my head out the window as her boyfriend drove us to the hospital. I was air-lifted to the children’s hospital in Denver and was there for several weeks, watching The Little Mermaid constantly until I was allowed to go home… I always find it fun and interesting to be able to tell people that I had such a serious accident (can it be referred to as an ‘accident?’ it’s not technically an accident, is it?) when I was a child.
Thick-framed glasses
Getting lovely emails from people
Rubber gloves
Lobsters
The first shopping adventure Pow and I had together at ASDA… mmhmm! We spent three hours and £122 there last Tuesday afternoon and every single second of it was amazingly fun. I don’t think we went out of our Southern characters once during the entire shopping experience and I don’t imagine anyone’s ever been stared at so many times as this girl with a coif and ducks tattooed on the side of her head!
Tiny, fluffy dogs
Oranges
Curly fries
BBQ Sauce
Scissors
Cherry Carmex
Chewing on wax
Tipp-Ex
Popping my neck
Water chestnuts
Feeling like an adult
Good shoes
Being in charge
Geometric patterns
Talking with Pow in a southern accent
My new sausage dog handbag
Imagining being Muffin’s “trophy wife”
The Simpsons
Smoked meat
Good habits
Whoopie Goldberg
Easter-European men
Suckers
Stigmata
Halloween
Ice cream trucks
Tortoise-shell glasses
“Simon Says”
Good pens
“Candyman”
Strong jaw lines
Selena
Marshmallows
Facial wipes
Grape jelly sweets
Scones
Buttercream icing
Jeff Bridges
Good textures
Squids
“The Men Who Stare At Goats”
George Clooney
When Pow talks to Chevy
Popping blisters
When Pow calls me “Superdan”
Buzzards
When clergy are Irish in films
When records skip
Billy Ray Cyrus
When my head’s freshly-shaved
Letterman jackets
The smell of fresh roses
1950’s Cadallacs
Tuesday, 29 June 2010
it's official
So it’s official… as of 0742 Friday morning I have got a ticket back to america.
I officially now have an email in my inbox worth £512.
I find it baffling that I can spend such a vast amount of money and have so very little to show for it. Like, if I had something really substantial like a pony or a dolphin as a result of that transaction, I would feel much more satisfied, but overall, it is a massive anti-climax… I had built-up the tension about booking a ticket, worried myself sleepless most nights thinking about leaving, desperately hoping that the purchase of this ticket would magically make all the little twinges go and quell every little concern I had.
No.
Now I still find myself concerned and still have twinges, but am half-a-grand poorer.
I left workies on Thursday afternoon after having bestowed upon my manager and co-workers the priceless information that I would be purchasing a ticket the following morning and would therefore be handing in my official notice to work upon my return. They all nodded and I nodded in response, blissfully unaware of the fact that not one of them believed that I would actually be purchasing a ticket the following morning…
Thursday night saw me arrive home from workies to an empty house. Due to the heat I immediately stripped-off, drew a megahot bath and relaxed. It was a fabulous bath (one which featured my second-favourite thing about getting a tattoo – the rubbing-off of all the dead skin…. Mmmmmyay!), and then I proceeded to tidy the house and lie on the sofa in a writhey manner whilst watching the news and texting Nick.
The plan for the night had been for me to sit at Bar One drinking my face off for the entirety of the night to quell my rage towards my estranged husband (oh em GEE that will be another blog altogether). I bounced on the sofa as I sent Nick an excited text asking if he still wanted a visitor to which he replied that he was working and if I wanted to come round I could, but that he wasn’t much company. I asked why. His response took ages and in that time I writhed in a sleepy manner with the news telling me about racist attacks, accidental baby deaths and the football. Just at the end of the news Nick replied saying his granddad had died in the morning. I immediately said I would be there as soon as I ate. I threw together a very sorry excuse for a tuna sandwich and tossed on some shoes and was at the pub within twenty minutes.
The remainder of the night circulated around lots of hugs and laughing until we cried as we watched videos of disabled animals, fat children and singing dogs. All this took place with Buddy nestled on my lap, his muzzle against my bosoms and my hand scratching his belly. It is nights like that, nights where I can just sit for hours with Nick next to me, Buddy on my lap and Chris Tree bumbling by every so often giving me faux-dirty looks, that I love purely because it allows me to remember why my life is so special. Why I have every reason in the entire world to feel so pleased for what I have.
I left the pub with just enough time to get home and have a really nice couple of hours with Pow. We talked about Johnny and me moving away and his newly-shaved facial hair before retiring to the sofa to watch a bit of Juno and take some photos of our faces squished together. We practiced our American accents and punched one another until Amy arrived and we all went to sleep.
That night, laid in bed, I almost wept from the realization of how beautiful my life is. I curled up on my right side, snuggled my stuffed penguin tight and felt like my heart was going to swell and burst out of my chest. I have everything I could ever need in life… absolutely everything, and I would be silly to ever think that I needed anything more.
Friday morning I woke up an hour before my alarm was due to go off. I felt tense and sat on my bed for five minutes, bracing myself for the task which had been laid before me.
I meandered down the hall, holding my dog-tags so they did not make so much noise that they woke the sleeping lovers.
I sneaked down the stairs and across the terracotta flooring before flicking the computer on and sitting on the piano bench-cum-computer chair and took a deep breath. Muffin was online, so we talked as I booked my train to London for that afternoon. Train booked, Facebook checked and emails responded to I had no other way to distract myself; I had to book my ticket. I did the search and found my ticket cheaper than it had been three days before. I booked it and felt not nearly as relieved as Muffin seemed to. He was ecstatic.
Again though, let me stress to you the amount of disappointment there is when all I have to show for having spent half-a-grand is an email, and not even a very good one at that. All it bloody said was that I had purchased a ticket… there was no information about luggage allowance, no anti-terrorist propaganda, just the itinerary and a generic disclaimer about what to do if I had received that email in error.
Granted, as a result of that half-a-grand, I will be able to step on a plane in fifty-eight days and that plane will take me to Paris and then, after an hour-and-a-half I will get on ANOTHER plane that will take me straight to Muffin’s arms. Still though, it’d be nice if I had a little more to show for the destruction of my bank account than a poxy little email.
Post-ticket, Muffin had to go work and I had to get ready for my morning-time plans. The plans had been set in place the previous night with a bottle of cider in my hand and a white wine spritzer in Nick’s (no, he isn’t THAT gay, he’s just trying to watch his weight, which, in hindsight, me saying that doesn’t really help with trying to dull down his gayness… “Oh, I’ll have a white wine spritzer, I’m watching my figure!”). Nick had told me, in between videos of narcoleptic dogs and cats with no sense of balance, about his escapades in town earlier in the day and about the fact that he had seen a new shop in the Westfield Centre called “Appy Feet” which Nick described to me as a shop with lots fo tanks where you could pay to have fish suck on your feet. The instant he told me about this I froze…
Right, firstly, who the crap would hear that you could go to a shop and pay a measly ten pounds to get tiny fish to suckle on your feet for fifteen minutes and turn THAT down?!
Secondly, guess which two people had a free couple of hours in the morning the VERY next day?!
I happily embarked on the journey to the pub to pick Nick up and rolled around on the floor with Buddy upon arriving until Lee and Nick were both ready. We left the pub en masse and arrived at the shopping centre for epic foot-sucking action.
So, for anyone who’s never had it done, I’d say do it, because it is totally a fun and weird experience. You dangle your feet, ankle-deep in a big bowl of filtered water with about eighty fish in. they immediately come to your feet and rasp at them until you pull them out. It was a fun little experience and post-getting sucked Nick and I pranced to some shops where he helped me pick out some undergarments and a shirt and then we went to the only coffee shop we deemed acceptable for a fabulous ice cream milk shake and some cupcakes (which I consumed purely for research purposes)
We ate and drank and then felt ill. We bumbled around town for a short while before making our way back to the pub to have a sausage roll and a cuddle with the dog. Lee and I talked about people on benefits and the likelihood of me getting a job in america until Nick came back inside from making a phone call in the garden (in case you were wondering, the call was made to the police an effort to remove the human scum who had congregated across the road from the pub to do a little daytime street-drinking. They were a disgusting, motley crew of pykies with a herd of dogs ready to eat you alive if you decided to challenge them). Nick then drove me back home so I could finish packing in a wild frenzy and drove me to the train station just in time for me to print out my tickets and hop on the 1425 straight to Londontown.
An hour-and-a-half later I was stepping off the train and hurdling as quickly as possible to the waiting arms of my janeyface. We hugged for ages and made our way out of the horror that is London St Pancras International Train Station into the harsh sunlight of the Big Smoke. We immediately decided to go to the nearest pub and began chainsmoking, drinking cider, people-watching and talking about various fabulous topics.
The rest of the afternoon was spent walking around in the bright, beautiful sunlight, stopping only to open another bottle of cider or to buy chinese buns and sushi. The afternoon was perfectly blissful and the bulk of our conversations for the afternoon involved how much we love spending time together and how we are one-another’s bffs.
I adore spending time with janey for many reasons, primarily though, I enjoy it because it is a time when I can be completely me without question. I can smoke or not smoke, drink or not drink, curse or not curse, say racist things or not and I will always get as good as I receive. She is an amazing person who, as soon as i first come within an arm’s length of her, makes me feel completely giddy with youthful excitement. It’s as though I immediately turn into a teenager again and we can just be two lewd, crude dudes with no worries at all in the world. I am never scared or questionable about anything when I am with janey. I can say or do anything around her and she won’t bat an eyelash (particularly because those BLOODY eyelashes cost a tenner EACH! **please see photo to your immediate left for explanation**)
She and I seem to think the same thoughts, do the same things and generally be the same person, which I love. We spent the bulk of the weekend talking about various topics surrounding my doubts and concerns with moving to america… things I imagine I will put into a blog when and/or if I find the time.
So… back to the original point, I’ve got a ticket back to America.
I pranced into work yesterday morning with glee all over my face, as if perhaps I had just won a little prize… or a very large prize (but knowing me, a little one would suffice, as I get covered in glee for even the tiniest of things). I beamed as my co-worker’s jaws dropped. It came to light as I was helping with the morning banking that many of the colleagues did not think I was actually going to go. They thought I was going to change my mind at the last minute; that I was going to move house and stay there because I loved it too much. Nobody believed I was going to go…
I’ve since handed in my resignation and I officially finish work at half past four on Monday 23rd August.
And there we are. I officially leave my favourite place in the entire world in fifty-eight days.
At half past three on the morning of August 26th I will be drunkenly bundling all m y favourite people into a hired van after a night of celebrating the birth of my Pow and my last night in the country. We will nearly all be in fancy-dress and we will (hopefully) make it to the airport for four in the morning. it will be an emotional affair that will most likely break my heart harder than it was broken when I left america. The people I have bonded with over the last six years have grown to be so special to me and the thought of living without them bloody kills me.
Granted, it is only for thirteen months… three-hundred and ninety-six days.
Wish me luck.
I find it baffling that I can spend such a vast amount of money and have so very little to show for it. Like, if I had something really substantial like a pony or a dolphin as a result of that transaction, I would feel much more satisfied, but overall, it is a massive anti-climax… I had built-up the tension about booking a ticket, worried myself sleepless most nights thinking about leaving, desperately hoping that the purchase of this ticket would magically make all the little twinges go and quell every little concern I had.
No.
Now I still find myself concerned and still have twinges, but am half-a-grand poorer.
I left workies on Thursday afternoon after having bestowed upon my manager and co-workers the priceless information that I would be purchasing a ticket the following morning and would therefore be handing in my official notice to work upon my return. They all nodded and I nodded in response, blissfully unaware of the fact that not one of them believed that I would actually be purchasing a ticket the following morning…
Thursday night saw me arrive home from workies to an empty house. Due to the heat I immediately stripped-off, drew a megahot bath and relaxed. It was a fabulous bath (one which featured my second-favourite thing about getting a tattoo – the rubbing-off of all the dead skin…. Mmmmmyay!), and then I proceeded to tidy the house and lie on the sofa in a writhey manner whilst watching the news and texting Nick.
The plan for the night had been for me to sit at Bar One drinking my face off for the entirety of the night to quell my rage towards my estranged husband (oh em GEE that will be another blog altogether). I bounced on the sofa as I sent Nick an excited text asking if he still wanted a visitor to which he replied that he was working and if I wanted to come round I could, but that he wasn’t much company. I asked why. His response took ages and in that time I writhed in a sleepy manner with the news telling me about racist attacks, accidental baby deaths and the football. Just at the end of the news Nick replied saying his granddad had died in the morning. I immediately said I would be there as soon as I ate. I threw together a very sorry excuse for a tuna sandwich and tossed on some shoes and was at the pub within twenty minutes.
The remainder of the night circulated around lots of hugs and laughing until we cried as we watched videos of disabled animals, fat children and singing dogs. All this took place with Buddy nestled on my lap, his muzzle against my bosoms and my hand scratching his belly. It is nights like that, nights where I can just sit for hours with Nick next to me, Buddy on my lap and Chris Tree bumbling by every so often giving me faux-dirty looks, that I love purely because it allows me to remember why my life is so special. Why I have every reason in the entire world to feel so pleased for what I have.
I left the pub with just enough time to get home and have a really nice couple of hours with Pow. We talked about Johnny and me moving away and his newly-shaved facial hair before retiring to the sofa to watch a bit of Juno and take some photos of our faces squished together. We practiced our American accents and punched one another until Amy arrived and we all went to sleep.
That night, laid in bed, I almost wept from the realization of how beautiful my life is. I curled up on my right side, snuggled my stuffed penguin tight and felt like my heart was going to swell and burst out of my chest. I have everything I could ever need in life… absolutely everything, and I would be silly to ever think that I needed anything more.
Friday morning I woke up an hour before my alarm was due to go off. I felt tense and sat on my bed for five minutes, bracing myself for the task which had been laid before me.
I meandered down the hall, holding my dog-tags so they did not make so much noise that they woke the sleeping lovers.
I sneaked down the stairs and across the terracotta flooring before flicking the computer on and sitting on the piano bench-cum-computer chair and took a deep breath. Muffin was online, so we talked as I booked my train to London for that afternoon. Train booked, Facebook checked and emails responded to I had no other way to distract myself; I had to book my ticket. I did the search and found my ticket cheaper than it had been three days before. I booked it and felt not nearly as relieved as Muffin seemed to. He was ecstatic.
Again though, let me stress to you the amount of disappointment there is when all I have to show for having spent half-a-grand is an email, and not even a very good one at that. All it bloody said was that I had purchased a ticket… there was no information about luggage allowance, no anti-terrorist propaganda, just the itinerary and a generic disclaimer about what to do if I had received that email in error.
Granted, as a result of that half-a-grand, I will be able to step on a plane in fifty-eight days and that plane will take me to Paris and then, after an hour-and-a-half I will get on ANOTHER plane that will take me straight to Muffin’s arms. Still though, it’d be nice if I had a little more to show for the destruction of my bank account than a poxy little email.
Post-ticket, Muffin had to go work and I had to get ready for my morning-time plans. The plans had been set in place the previous night with a bottle of cider in my hand and a white wine spritzer in Nick’s (no, he isn’t THAT gay, he’s just trying to watch his weight, which, in hindsight, me saying that doesn’t really help with trying to dull down his gayness… “Oh, I’ll have a white wine spritzer, I’m watching my figure!”). Nick had told me, in between videos of narcoleptic dogs and cats with no sense of balance, about his escapades in town earlier in the day and about the fact that he had seen a new shop in the Westfield Centre called “Appy Feet” which Nick described to me as a shop with lots fo tanks where you could pay to have fish suck on your feet. The instant he told me about this I froze…
Right, firstly, who the crap would hear that you could go to a shop and pay a measly ten pounds to get tiny fish to suckle on your feet for fifteen minutes and turn THAT down?!
Secondly, guess which two people had a free couple of hours in the morning the VERY next day?!
I happily embarked on the journey to the pub to pick Nick up and rolled around on the floor with Buddy upon arriving until Lee and Nick were both ready. We left the pub en masse and arrived at the shopping centre for epic foot-sucking action.
So, for anyone who’s never had it done, I’d say do it, because it is totally a fun and weird experience. You dangle your feet, ankle-deep in a big bowl of filtered water with about eighty fish in. they immediately come to your feet and rasp at them until you pull them out. It was a fun little experience and post-getting sucked Nick and I pranced to some shops where he helped me pick out some undergarments and a shirt and then we went to the only coffee shop we deemed acceptable for a fabulous ice cream milk shake and some cupcakes (which I consumed purely for research purposes)
We ate and drank and then felt ill. We bumbled around town for a short while before making our way back to the pub to have a sausage roll and a cuddle with the dog. Lee and I talked about people on benefits and the likelihood of me getting a job in america until Nick came back inside from making a phone call in the garden (in case you were wondering, the call was made to the police an effort to remove the human scum who had congregated across the road from the pub to do a little daytime street-drinking. They were a disgusting, motley crew of pykies with a herd of dogs ready to eat you alive if you decided to challenge them). Nick then drove me back home so I could finish packing in a wild frenzy and drove me to the train station just in time for me to print out my tickets and hop on the 1425 straight to Londontown.
An hour-and-a-half later I was stepping off the train and hurdling as quickly as possible to the waiting arms of my janeyface. We hugged for ages and made our way out of the horror that is London St Pancras International Train Station into the harsh sunlight of the Big Smoke. We immediately decided to go to the nearest pub and began chainsmoking, drinking cider, people-watching and talking about various fabulous topics.
The rest of the afternoon was spent walking around in the bright, beautiful sunlight, stopping only to open another bottle of cider or to buy chinese buns and sushi. The afternoon was perfectly blissful and the bulk of our conversations for the afternoon involved how much we love spending time together and how we are one-another’s bffs.
I adore spending time with janey for many reasons, primarily though, I enjoy it because it is a time when I can be completely me without question. I can smoke or not smoke, drink or not drink, curse or not curse, say racist things or not and I will always get as good as I receive. She is an amazing person who, as soon as i first come within an arm’s length of her, makes me feel completely giddy with youthful excitement. It’s as though I immediately turn into a teenager again and we can just be two lewd, crude dudes with no worries at all in the world. I am never scared or questionable about anything when I am with janey. I can say or do anything around her and she won’t bat an eyelash (particularly because those BLOODY eyelashes cost a tenner EACH! **please see photo to your immediate left for explanation**)She and I seem to think the same thoughts, do the same things and generally be the same person, which I love. We spent the bulk of the weekend talking about various topics surrounding my doubts and concerns with moving to america… things I imagine I will put into a blog when and/or if I find the time.
So… back to the original point, I’ve got a ticket back to America.
I pranced into work yesterday morning with glee all over my face, as if perhaps I had just won a little prize… or a very large prize (but knowing me, a little one would suffice, as I get covered in glee for even the tiniest of things). I beamed as my co-worker’s jaws dropped. It came to light as I was helping with the morning banking that many of the colleagues did not think I was actually going to go. They thought I was going to change my mind at the last minute; that I was going to move house and stay there because I loved it too much. Nobody believed I was going to go…
I’ve since handed in my resignation and I officially finish work at half past four on Monday 23rd August.
And there we are. I officially leave my favourite place in the entire world in fifty-eight days.
At half past three on the morning of August 26th I will be drunkenly bundling all m y favourite people into a hired van after a night of celebrating the birth of my Pow and my last night in the country. We will nearly all be in fancy-dress and we will (hopefully) make it to the airport for four in the morning. it will be an emotional affair that will most likely break my heart harder than it was broken when I left america. The people I have bonded with over the last six years have grown to be so special to me and the thought of living without them bloody kills me.
Granted, it is only for thirteen months… three-hundred and ninety-six days.
Wish me luck.
Monday, 21 June 2010
tuesday and ting
This Tuesday I don’t FEEL like hearting… I FEEL like curling up on my bed and just existing between dreams and the words of Chuck Palahniuk for the entire day…
I’m tired despite a fairly excellent sleep, I have a headache despite the existence of paracetamol in my system and I’m cold despite the incredibly beautiful weather we have been gifted today.
My life is anything but unpleasant. I am aware that I have been blessed with a life that most people would die for. I am spoiled rotten, quite gifted when it comes to baking and arts and crafts and I seem to have good luck smile upon me on a daily basis… I don’t mean to complain, but it just feels like, despite all the magnificent things that my life is made of, I just really, really can’t seem to pull myself out of this stupid slump I am in.
Like, I’m pretty certain I know WHY I’m in this slump… the combination of moving house, moving continents, gaining citizenship and everything that has to do with all of these things, they’ve taken their toll on me… they’ve left me feeling quite tired and I’ve not taken the time to have a nap in amongst all of this. I’ve just been running and running and running and not stopping to smell all the flowers (metaphorical relaxing days for myself) and taking for granted the wonderful helpers on the side of the road who’ve been offering me cool bottles of water (metaphorical respite and rejuvenation). I have just been bulling along through my days with my own stupid agenda and now, as of like, last night, I just feel like it’s genuinely taking its toll on me. I feel like I am destroying all the special, beautiful little things in my life.
Yesterday, despite having had an amazing weekend, I felt raw, arsey and bored. I started the day deciding I was going to only exist for me and laid in bed with a cup of tea and re-reading haunted by Palahniuk. I laid there for two hours and whilst I don’t typically enjoy activities such as this, I really, really loved it (as you will read further on down).
After an hour or two I got on with cooking a meal for Pow and me, working on my newest project and watching films. I spoke to Muffin in the morning and it was alright… as I said above, I felt bored. After our chat I meandered into the lounge and threw myself on the sofa and said I felt strange. Pow asked me what I felt strange about and I went on to explain how I have developed a feeling of complacency…
several weeks back Muffin had told me that he was busy and that he didn’t have the time to contact me as much as I wanted and that he worried if we had to go a day without talking I would fall to pieces. Well, ever the spiteful little lady, I spent the following two days not talking to him, purely to show him that I was able to do it. since then I’ve severely cut down my talk-time with him which has, in turn, left him emailing me less and… well… let’s just say we only really talk during the brief calls he makes to my mobile, which SHOULD be good enough, but when he spent the first two or three months grooming me with between three and six LONG and incredibly emotional, lovely emails a day and photos and videos and OMG…
I’ve been left feeling a little like a deflated balloon. I’d gotten so used to having him there, always sending me emails and taking photos and things…
Now, I just feel complacent. I feel like I’ve backed off SO MUCH that we’ve created a distance that makes me feel really ugly inside. I don’t feel as excited as I used to when I see him come online…. I still DO get excited, but nothing like I used to. People at work have started to notice that I don’t talk about him as much and I guess I just generally have this fear that when I get to america it’s either going to be incredibly good or really, REALLY bad.
I hate the distance and it’s making me tired. I had forgotten how much it hurts to have to be so far away from someone you have such a burning for. I can’t remember what emotions I felt before I moved to England… what worries I had…
I can’t remember if I was terrified that I would show up and it wouldn’t be good. I can’t remember if I feared that he wouldn’t love me anymore when he had to live with me for good (which, to be fair, DID happen, so really, if I DID fear that, then it wasn’t completely unfounded). I perhaps should go back to old blogs and see what went through my head then and how I coped with it at that time…
Is it normal for me to be so scared? Does it make me look like an idiot when I say that I worry that we won’t work out despite the fact that we have invested so much time, energy and money into this? Am I a bad person because I am making sure I book my ticket’s return primarily to save me money, but also with the knowledge that if things don’t work out, I will have a backup plan?
God, I am so terrified. I will be buying my ticket in four days and I am scared. I have never been more scared of anything in my life. I KNOW that when I book my ticket on Friday morning, that’s gonna be it… I WILL be leaving and I can’t turn back. Once I have clicked on that button I can say goodbye to that £600 and keep my fingers crossed for the proceeding 62 days… crossed in hopes that Muffin and I work out and I won’t have wasted all that money on a pipe dream.
I am aware that I am most likely in a tizzy at the moment because I am scared. I realize that perhaps my mind is creating this fabulous series of doubts in an effort to stop it from having to process all the scary stuff, I AM going to persevere… I AM going to go to america and I AM going to give this time with Muffin a proper go. I know I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t.
Urgh, let’s not focus on this junk… just, that’s where my head is. Scattered.
Now, on to better things! Things I heart!
Janeyvisit… I decided on an impromptu visit to see my janeyface for this weekend. This occurred to me when I realized that I only have NINE WEEKENDS left in the country and seven of those weekends are already full. I booked the other two weekends in to travel down to London to see janeyface, which means I will only be seeing her four more times before I leave (oh dear, just typing that out then, it took me a little short and I got a bit misty, sorry). I will be travelling down early Friday afternoon for a weekend of drinking, clubbing, tattooing, meeting her parents, and eating more sushi and buns than I ever knew possible. I have been craving sushi like nobody’s business and there’s nobody I love picking-out and eating sushi with more than my janeyface. I can’t actually believe that this is going to be it. this will be the first of only four visits with her before I leave. I can’t believe it. I want to arrive and make sure that I spend as much time memorizing as many of the moments we have together as possible. I love her so much and to think that I won’t have her on the same land-mass as me for thirteen months breaks my freaking heart. She’s such an amazing person. I love her and her beautiful face so much. I’ve no idea where I would be in England without her… obviously in derby, but like, where would I be mentally. She has brought me out of myself in a way nobody else could have. I have more fun with her than I do with most people. She’s an amazingly beautiful and fun person who I can’t help but smile when I think about.
Lying in bed reading… I’ve never been one to do this. I’ve always found myself far too caught up in just GOING in my life to stop and just enjoy a couple of hours in bed with a book and a cup of tea. I took this opportunity Sunday and relished every single second. I laid on my bed and listened to the hum and vibration of the songs Pow was mixing whilst I let the words from the book crawl into my brainspace and create images and memories for the characters being described in the book. I laid there, under my new duvet and fell in love with my space, my book, my hangover and my afternoon. It was a special series of moments that I took purely for me and my mind and body thanked me for it.
Artificial apple flavouring… particularly sour apple… NOM!
Nick Parker… again. Such an outstandingly beautiful man… he’s helped me in so many ways, ways he most likely doesn’t even know.the bursts of love i have for him at the moment came in the shape of friday and saturday night. friday night i entered the pub and got myself a drink and he and i sat in the corner heckling the football in between bursts of me attempting to shriek in support of the English team. we talked about the pub and the game and then we talked about me leaving. he told me how much he is going to miss me and said that he wanted to get a tattoo for me before i leave. the next night i fell in love with him again... the moment it happened was when he was performing on stage with Amy... he was performing and wearing a blonde wig and the light made my heart hurt. made it hurt because i have no idea how i could live without the likes of him... how i am going to go a year without seeing his little face and cuddling him, i have no idea. he is such an amazingly beautiful man. so much fun and so beautiful. i am now attempting to ensure i spend as much time as i can with the people i love the biggest in the next sixty-six days... i need to make sure i have as many memories and photos as possible. i heart nick parker and have no idea what i will do without his little face for a year.
old, disused buildings
Pow's handwriting
Goncalves
calculators
chlorine
the ducks and the way the front one JUDT peeks past my hairline
cardigans
having a fag in the bath
looking back on all the 'looks' i've seen Pow go through
blood orange juice
prawns
the smell of old patient records
sausage dogs
hoovering
ben edmonds
thomas truax
swimming
Poland
knowing i'm better than a lot of people
post-it's
m & m 's
sleeping with the window open
living alone
Energizer Lithium batteries
photodays with Pow
acoustic guitar
remembering times or days when i didn't hate my husband
homemade spaghetti
my drunk tattoos... mmhmm, i'm a winner. a week or so ago i went to the official opening of my tattooist's new shop and everyone got drunk... three cans of cider in, Tara, Kevin's fiance, came to ask if i wanted a tattoo... i was drunk enough to bumble immediately upstairs and pick out the perfect colour to allow two people who've never tattoo'd before to have a go at my arm. i am now the proud owner of two new, very special tattoos, both of which has the individual who did it's name on... so yes, i now officially have two people's names on me and two tattoos i will never, ever cover up.
body butter
NOT tired days
over-thinking
planning my leaving party
compound words
80's fashion
my memory
Bon Jovi
texts from Nick Parker
my tiny pomp
when black people have the surname 'white'
when friends announce they are pregnant
finally closing the 7 palmerston street book... as depressing as it was, i can't help but feel a massive wave of relief for not having THAT responsibility anymore... it's so, so lovely to just be able to come home at the end of the day and not have to worry about having to care for a house all by myself. i am now on the home stretch back to america and i can't help but be pleased that all the bits and pieces are finally being tied up into parcels with nice little bows.
glass-collecting at Bar One
how natural it feels to live with Pow... i can't believe how easy it is to live with him. how easy and wonderful it is. we just get on so well and it's like living with the most wonderful, fun, safe person ever. i've never lived with someone that i've been so close to before and it makes me happy to come home every day to make dinner, pick out a film and lounge on the sofa, creating fabulous things together. he'a my best friend and i have no idea, after living with him, that i will be able to leave him at the airport.
IKEA
integrating my things with other people's
the USA vs. UK world cup game
my stripey, long-sleeved top
when muffin is being cute
Franny
big brother
prawns and cocktail sauce
popping my joints
women with shaved heads
washing my face
really old books
anatomy books
the seashell animal shelf Pow and i have set up
pesto
salami
doing washing-up
lava lamps
west-country accents
australian accents
snake anatomy
crude people
fluffy robes
oranges
caramel shortcake
really heavy rain
thunderstorms
Gok Wan
IKEA meatballs
Shrek
onions
really good mugs
rotary telephones
charity-shopping with Pow
finding letters or cards from my mum
days when Pow's stable
Alan Carr
my dentist teeth
8 out of 10 cats
really pale girls
Beyonce
Tim Baxley
Stephanie Smith
wigs
my gogol bordello shirt
good hair
feeling helpful
stethoscopes
cowboy hats
snakeskin boots
empire dresses
bowler hats
listening to music as often as possible
builders
posh english accents
the fact that people describe my hair as "hitler hair"
braces
moles (the animal)
my drawings
Ali's signature
Cheerios
milk
the sound of a VHS rewinding
sudden realizations
easy-to-peel oranges
when Pow's in a good mood
when people randomly make animal noises
having a really good surge of creativity
burlesque at Bar One
my Danni Filth tattoo
good dreams
other people's handwriting
scottish accents
shortbread biscuits
smoked bacon
I’m tired despite a fairly excellent sleep, I have a headache despite the existence of paracetamol in my system and I’m cold despite the incredibly beautiful weather we have been gifted today.
My life is anything but unpleasant. I am aware that I have been blessed with a life that most people would die for. I am spoiled rotten, quite gifted when it comes to baking and arts and crafts and I seem to have good luck smile upon me on a daily basis… I don’t mean to complain, but it just feels like, despite all the magnificent things that my life is made of, I just really, really can’t seem to pull myself out of this stupid slump I am in.
Like, I’m pretty certain I know WHY I’m in this slump… the combination of moving house, moving continents, gaining citizenship and everything that has to do with all of these things, they’ve taken their toll on me… they’ve left me feeling quite tired and I’ve not taken the time to have a nap in amongst all of this. I’ve just been running and running and running and not stopping to smell all the flowers (metaphorical relaxing days for myself) and taking for granted the wonderful helpers on the side of the road who’ve been offering me cool bottles of water (metaphorical respite and rejuvenation). I have just been bulling along through my days with my own stupid agenda and now, as of like, last night, I just feel like it’s genuinely taking its toll on me. I feel like I am destroying all the special, beautiful little things in my life.
Yesterday, despite having had an amazing weekend, I felt raw, arsey and bored. I started the day deciding I was going to only exist for me and laid in bed with a cup of tea and re-reading haunted by Palahniuk. I laid there for two hours and whilst I don’t typically enjoy activities such as this, I really, really loved it (as you will read further on down).
After an hour or two I got on with cooking a meal for Pow and me, working on my newest project and watching films. I spoke to Muffin in the morning and it was alright… as I said above, I felt bored. After our chat I meandered into the lounge and threw myself on the sofa and said I felt strange. Pow asked me what I felt strange about and I went on to explain how I have developed a feeling of complacency…
several weeks back Muffin had told me that he was busy and that he didn’t have the time to contact me as much as I wanted and that he worried if we had to go a day without talking I would fall to pieces. Well, ever the spiteful little lady, I spent the following two days not talking to him, purely to show him that I was able to do it. since then I’ve severely cut down my talk-time with him which has, in turn, left him emailing me less and… well… let’s just say we only really talk during the brief calls he makes to my mobile, which SHOULD be good enough, but when he spent the first two or three months grooming me with between three and six LONG and incredibly emotional, lovely emails a day and photos and videos and OMG…
I’ve been left feeling a little like a deflated balloon. I’d gotten so used to having him there, always sending me emails and taking photos and things…
Now, I just feel complacent. I feel like I’ve backed off SO MUCH that we’ve created a distance that makes me feel really ugly inside. I don’t feel as excited as I used to when I see him come online…. I still DO get excited, but nothing like I used to. People at work have started to notice that I don’t talk about him as much and I guess I just generally have this fear that when I get to america it’s either going to be incredibly good or really, REALLY bad.
I hate the distance and it’s making me tired. I had forgotten how much it hurts to have to be so far away from someone you have such a burning for. I can’t remember what emotions I felt before I moved to England… what worries I had…
I can’t remember if I was terrified that I would show up and it wouldn’t be good. I can’t remember if I feared that he wouldn’t love me anymore when he had to live with me for good (which, to be fair, DID happen, so really, if I DID fear that, then it wasn’t completely unfounded). I perhaps should go back to old blogs and see what went through my head then and how I coped with it at that time…
Is it normal for me to be so scared? Does it make me look like an idiot when I say that I worry that we won’t work out despite the fact that we have invested so much time, energy and money into this? Am I a bad person because I am making sure I book my ticket’s return primarily to save me money, but also with the knowledge that if things don’t work out, I will have a backup plan?
God, I am so terrified. I will be buying my ticket in four days and I am scared. I have never been more scared of anything in my life. I KNOW that when I book my ticket on Friday morning, that’s gonna be it… I WILL be leaving and I can’t turn back. Once I have clicked on that button I can say goodbye to that £600 and keep my fingers crossed for the proceeding 62 days… crossed in hopes that Muffin and I work out and I won’t have wasted all that money on a pipe dream.
I am aware that I am most likely in a tizzy at the moment because I am scared. I realize that perhaps my mind is creating this fabulous series of doubts in an effort to stop it from having to process all the scary stuff, I AM going to persevere… I AM going to go to america and I AM going to give this time with Muffin a proper go. I know I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t.
Urgh, let’s not focus on this junk… just, that’s where my head is. Scattered.
Now, on to better things! Things I heart!
Artificial apple flavouring… particularly sour apple… NOM!
old, disused buildingsPow's handwriting
Goncalves
calculators
chlorine
the ducks and the way the front one JUDT peeks past my hairline
cardigans
having a fag in the bath
looking back on all the 'looks' i've seen Pow go through
blood orange juice
prawns
the smell of old patient records
sausage dogs
hoovering
ben edmonds
thomas truax
swimming
Poland
knowing i'm better than a lot of people
post-it's
m & m 's
sleeping with the window open
living alone
Energizer Lithium batteries
photodays with Pow
acoustic guitar
remembering times or days when i didn't hate my husband
homemade spaghetti
my drunk tattoos... mmhmm, i'm a winner. a week or so ago i went to the official opening of my tattooist's new shop and everyone got drunk... three cans of cider in, Tara, Kevin's fiance, came to ask if i wanted a tattoo... i was drunk enough to bumble immediately upstairs and pick out the perfect colour to allow two people who've never tattoo'd before to have a go at my arm. i am now the proud owner of two new, very special tattoos, both of which has the individual who did it's name on... so yes, i now officially have two people's names on me and two tattoos i will never, ever cover up.
body butter
NOT tired days
over-thinking
planning my leaving partycompound words
80's fashion
my memory
Bon Jovi
texts from Nick Parker
my tiny pomp
when black people have the surname 'white'
when friends announce they are pregnant
finally closing the 7 palmerston street book... as depressing as it was, i can't help but feel a massive wave of relief for not having THAT responsibility anymore... it's so, so lovely to just be able to come home at the end of the day and not have to worry about having to care for a house all by myself. i am now on the home stretch back to america and i can't help but be pleased that all the bits and pieces are finally being tied up into parcels with nice little bows.
glass-collecting at Bar One
how natural it feels to live with Pow... i can't believe how easy it is to live with him. how easy and wonderful it is. we just get on so well and it's like living with the most wonderful, fun, safe person ever. i've never lived with someone that i've been so close to before and it makes me happy to come home every day to make dinner, pick out a film and lounge on the sofa, creating fabulous things together. he'a my best friend and i have no idea, after living with him, that i will be able to leave him at the airport.
IKEA
integrating my things with other people's
the USA vs. UK world cup game
my stripey, long-sleeved topwhen muffin is being cute
Franny
big brother
prawns and cocktail sauce
popping my joints
women with shaved heads
washing my face
really old books
anatomy books
the seashell animal shelf Pow and i have set up
pesto
salami
doing washing-up
lava lamps
west-country accents
australian accents
snake anatomy
crude people
fluffy robes
oranges
caramel shortcake
really heavy rain
thunderstorms
Gok Wan
IKEA meatballs
Shrek
onions
really good mugs
rotary telephones
charity-shopping with Pow
finding letters or cards from my mum
days when Pow's stable
Alan Carr
my dentist teeth
8 out of 10 cats
really pale girls
Beyonce
Tim Baxley
Stephanie Smith
wigs
my gogol bordello shirt
good hair
feeling helpful
stethoscopes
cowboy hats
snakeskin boots
empire dresses
bowler hats
listening to music as often as possible
builders
posh english accents
the fact that people describe my hair as "hitler hair"
braces
moles (the animal)
my drawings
Ali's signature
Cheerios
milk
the sound of a VHS rewinding
sudden realizations
easy-to-peel oranges
when Pow's in a good mood
when people randomly make animal noises
having a really good surge of creativity
burlesque at Bar One
my Danni Filth tattoo
good dreams
other people's handwriting
scottish accents
shortbread biscuits
smoked bacon
Tuesday, 25 May 2010
OMGTUESDAYOMG!
The last week I have been tired… I’ve been busy and tired. Did I even do a list last Tuesday? I did, didn’t i? It was boring and not full of much. just a basic list… well, this week I NEED to focus on the lovely, so I will be doing a fabulous list and it will blow minds, end wars and perhaps, MAYBE be the reason my life is made into a made-for-TV-movie (purely because it is OBVIOUS that some amazing, budding film director will see this blog, see the list I am about to do, become SO enthralled by my life and the way I live it that he will have to contact me and when he meets me he will fall desperately in love with me and in a bid to spend as much time with me as possible and potentially make me fall in love with him, he will follow me around for a year and document my life, making it into a film and making me an international star… I’m just saying… it COULD happen)
My week, despite me being slightly down has made my life worth living… I’ve had a stupendous amount of magical little things happen that have made the days perfect. The list of these things can be seen… NOW!
Nick Parker… number one this week for SO many reasons, the most important being that I think I actually fell in love with him in the wee hours of Sunday morning. I’m sure my heart actually skipped a beat whilst busting out some moves to some random R’n’B song at a club (no, I do NOT know the lyrics and NO I am NOT a closet R’n’B princess, shut up) . The smoke machine’s emissions had cleared just enough for me to be able to breathe a normal amount and the harsh, hot pink neon lights shone on his beautiful dancing face in the perfect way for me to fall madly in love with being there at that specific moment in that specific place with him.
The evening had started with some reluctant drinks at Nick’s pub (see: Bar One, the best pub in the world)… I was tired, cranky and insecure about the fact that I was debuting a dress that had never seen the light of day (despite the fact that it’s been living in my house amongst all my OTHER clothes for nearly seven months), but that I HAD to test out to see if it would be acceptable to wear to a gig on Friday (the general consensus for the dress was excellent, btw. My bosoms were heaving and people were drooling, it was made of win… I’ll most likely NOT wear it out again though) after a few glasses of Sailor Jerry I was happy to get up and belt out a rendition of “That Don’t Impress Me Much” by Shania (which has since left me with the name amongst the Bar One crew of Shania Twat… fanks guise!).
The whole night was peppered with me harassing Nick, Amy and Franny about whether or not they’d be prancing along to a club around the corner called Curzon’s. I was aware that they regularly went and I had never BEEN ‘clubbing’ as it were, so I was desperate and drunk enough to be excited about going to what I had pictured in my head as a ritzy gay-filled club for some dancing, cocktails and general closeness with some of what I could only imagine would be derby’s most BEAUTIFUL gays (oh how WRONG I was).
Until the clock struck three I bounced around in general excitement, squeeing regularly at Nick about how pumped I was. The squees were sprinkled around a ‘hair-off’ between Nick and myself which saw us getting our hair out (I just realized this sounds odd, we were both wearing hats) and making it as big as possible. The norm for us when I am visiting his humble establishment is for us to fondle our glasses in a sassy way together and muse about what outrageous outfit he plans to wear when Muffin and I marry in Vegas (the current and most consistent contender being a flesh-coloured leotard. EDIT: after a talk with Nick just now, the outfit has been singled down to a hat resembling a cow’s head and a powder-blue suit. He says this is finite and THE outfit… we’ll see).
When we were finally released to the streets and had pranced around the corner to the club Nick clutched me and made it clear he was going to be my keeper for the duration of our stay there. he riddled me with rum and coke and we danced… oh how we danced. After about ten minutes of dancing in our little circle consisting of, in order, Franny, Ferret, Amy, Nick and myself, I found my mind wondering into a place that allowed me to take everything in with perfect clarity… the switch that flicked this wondering was watching Nick dancing. He started busting a particularly hysterical move and I had to actually stop dancing so as to help myself memorize that moment and to remember that this life that I have, it is perfect and that perfection is all because of people like Nick Parker. I watched him dance for thirty-six seconds (yes, I love numbers and I counted) and fell in love with him. I fell in love with the way he carries himself, the way he dances, his face, his arms, his hat, the way he talks and the way we can have a laugh at everything in the world… he is a magically beautiful creature and I am so, so thankful that I have had the opportunity to have bonded with him as much as I have over the last couple of months. I am madly in love with every single second that I get to spend being sassy and crude with him and I hate the fact that he and I did not start this bonding process sooner… he is a wonderful person and I can’t WAIT for all my favourite american creatures to meet him and fall just as madly in love with him as I have.
Pow… oh yes, the big squishy-face. I have a particularly large crush on him at the moment due to the fact that I will get a SUPER concentrated amount of time with him in the nine weeks prior to my leaving. This is due to the fact that since RetardStacey moved out I trust no one. I’ve met with five people about them moving in with me and I just don’t trust them… some of them with just cause, one of them because they just looked and talked FAR too much like RetardStacey for me to be comfortable living with her. Wait, let me go back… Pow has been the one person to make me cry more than anyone else has this last week (which Nick says isn’t hard and that the phrase “don’t cry over spilled milk” was most likely written about and for me). I cried out of anger for him being so retarded and messing up some very important dates (which makes me love him more than anything else because, despite the initial anger-to-tears, he teaches me about patience and I need that from time-to-time… NOBODY tries my patience like Alastair Powers does… not a single person in the world), I cried out of love for two reasons… the first being a text that he sent me… I had sent him (and all the other most important people in my life) a text asking what the first thing that came to mind was when he thought of me, his response was received JUST as I was snuggling in for a night’s slumber… it caught me JUST in the throes of my valium sleepytime… my mobile was on my pillow next to my left ear and the ping and vibration pulled me out of the Christmastime party I was having with Augusten Burroughs. I glanced at my mobile, smiled at the name of the sender, curled up into a little ball facing left and read the following: “Your smile your glasses your eyes your bravery your gun ho Fuck this SHIT attitude your endless creativity and your love and support.” I wept. I wept first because I did not expect a response from him and I wept second because of the small intimacies he noted. To know that someone associates me with with my eyes and smile… it makes my heart hurt. The second happy weep a’la Pow was yesterday… we were still covered in the scent of chlorine from the pool and burdened with bags of food (burgers, chips, Victoria sponge, chocolate ganache pudding, bagels and coke zero). He pranced in excitedly and before we could even set the bags down he asked which of the presents I wanted first (presents which came from his recent trip to Blackpool)… I opened the first, which is a secret, only to be revealed once Johnny is finally unveiled; the second was handed to me with the words, “because I knew you were going to be moving in.” I then unwrapped a mug with the Scorpio symbol on it. (This is special for me and Pow because of a video that he and I made several months back. He has the worst memory in the universe and in the video he asked me what my star sign was twice in two seconds… now, when he does or says something silly or forgetful I always ask him what my sign is or he will pip me to the post by belting out “SCORPIO!”). Last night was spent curled-up on his sofa making videos and watching ‘The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus’ with small conversations about how and when I would start moving things in spun in throughout. We talked about foods we both like and how tidy the kitchen would be and I was generally in love with life. Nothing makes me happier than to know that I will get to spend my last several weeks in England with my favourite squishy-face in the world.
Painting my nails
Having more important work to do at my job
Wasabi
OMGJANEYVISIT! This visit! OMGTHISVISIT! It will be starting from 14:25 Friday afternoon and last until 10:30 Monday morning. It will be full of LOTS of drinking, lots of baking and so much fun. It will be the busiest, but possibly the best and most epic JANEYDANIEFUNTIME in the history of the world. Friday I will pick her up and we will go pick up the things I have on reserve at the butcher’s in the market. We’ll prance back to mine and bake our faces off for a couple of hours and then bumble down to Bar One where we will spend the evening looking fabulous, eating cakes, watching amazing music, telling racist jokes to Nick and gawking at ANNA (even PERHAPS convincing Nick to take us to Curzons so’s Janey can have the experience of her life). Saturday we will rouse from our drunken sleeps in no fit state to do anything but watch stand-up comedy and horror movies. Once I feel up to it Saturday night I will tattoo myself under Janey’s watchful eye, make an attempt at cooking a cow’s heart and drink more. Sunday will see Pow arrive (hopefully) bright and early for a serious photo session for Johnny and general funtimes. The weekend will mostly just be amazing and made of win and everyone should be jealous. I can see us getting barred from places, sicking up (that’ll mostly be Janey) and offending many. It’ll be fun.
Reading old letters
Good dreams
Carbonated water
Free tattoos
Opening post
Planning playdates
Orange juice WITH pulp
Hyperbole and a Half
When everyone else is sunburnt and i'm not
Tom Waits
Heath Ledger
Magnetic Fields
the hippodrome (yes, that's me being tiny inside that massive, destroyed theatre)
The lists of things that come to mind when people first think of me... this is for a secret project, one that will be revealed in due course. the list is as follows.. beers around a fire, my voice, my accent, ear piercings, guinea pigs, an oversized plastic peanut with a tiny chirping bird inside, crochet, chinese buns, cupcakes, sushi, tattoos, wool, small lap dogs, burgers, benches, colour, light, denzel washington, taxidermy, general tat, bright-coloured clothing, animal skins, horrible packaged american foodstuffs, fags, ducks, hair, stars, cake, pink, perverted 'my little ponies,' laughing, vaginas, paisley-print, breakfast foods, makeup, hairdye, glasses, houndstooth, s'mores cereal, red straws, carnival rides, sandals, jeans, marker pens... it was a glorious list.
My week, despite me being slightly down has made my life worth living… I’ve had a stupendous amount of magical little things happen that have made the days perfect. The list of these things can be seen… NOW!
Nick Parker… number one this week for SO many reasons, the most important being that I think I actually fell in love with him in the wee hours of Sunday morning. I’m sure my heart actually skipped a beat whilst busting out some moves to some random R’n’B song at a club (no, I do NOT know the lyrics and NO I am NOT a closet R’n’B princess, shut up) . The smoke machine’s emissions had cleared just enough for me to be able to breathe a normal amount and the harsh, hot pink neon lights shone on his beautiful dancing face in the perfect way for me to fall madly in love with being there at that specific moment in that specific place with him.
The whole night was peppered with me harassing Nick, Amy and Franny about whether or not they’d be prancing along to a club around the corner called Curzon’s. I was aware that they regularly went and I had never BEEN ‘clubbing’ as it were, so I was desperate and drunk enough to be excited about going to what I had pictured in my head as a ritzy gay-filled club for some dancing, cocktails and general closeness with some of what I could only imagine would be derby’s most BEAUTIFUL gays (oh how WRONG I was).
Until the clock struck three I bounced around in general excitement, squeeing regularly at Nick about how pumped I was. The squees were sprinkled around a ‘hair-off’ between Nick and myself which saw us getting our hair out (I just realized this sounds odd, we were both wearing hats) and making it as big as possible. The norm for us when I am visiting his humble establishment is for us to fondle our glasses in a sassy way together and muse about what outrageous outfit he plans to wear when Muffin and I marry in Vegas (the current and most consistent contender being a flesh-coloured leotard. EDIT: after a talk with Nick just now, the outfit has been singled down to a hat resembling a cow’s head and a powder-blue suit. He says this is finite and THE outfit… we’ll see).
When we were finally released to the streets and had pranced around the corner to the club Nick clutched me and made it clear he was going to be my keeper for the duration of our stay there. he riddled me with rum and coke and we danced… oh how we danced. After about ten minutes of dancing in our little circle consisting of, in order, Franny, Ferret, Amy, Nick and myself, I found my mind wondering into a place that allowed me to take everything in with perfect clarity… the switch that flicked this wondering was watching Nick dancing. He started busting a particularly hysterical move and I had to actually stop dancing so as to help myself memorize that moment and to remember that this life that I have, it is perfect and that perfection is all because of people like Nick Parker. I watched him dance for thirty-six seconds (yes, I love numbers and I counted) and fell in love with him. I fell in love with the way he carries himself, the way he dances, his face, his arms, his hat, the way he talks and the way we can have a laugh at everything in the world… he is a magically beautiful creature and I am so, so thankful that I have had the opportunity to have bonded with him as much as I have over the last couple of months. I am madly in love with every single second that I get to spend being sassy and crude with him and I hate the fact that he and I did not start this bonding process sooner… he is a wonderful person and I can’t WAIT for all my favourite american creatures to meet him and fall just as madly in love with him as I have.
Painting my nails
Having more important work to do at my job
Wasabi
OMGJANEYVISIT! This visit! OMGTHISVISIT! It will be starting from 14:25 Friday afternoon and last until 10:30 Monday morning. It will be full of LOTS of drinking, lots of baking and so much fun. It will be the busiest, but possibly the best and most epic JANEYDANIEFUNTIME in the history of the world. Friday I will pick her up and we will go pick up the things I have on reserve at the butcher’s in the market. We’ll prance back to mine and bake our faces off for a couple of hours and then bumble down to Bar One where we will spend the evening looking fabulous, eating cakes, watching amazing music, telling racist jokes to Nick and gawking at ANNA (even PERHAPS convincing Nick to take us to Curzons so’s Janey can have the experience of her life). Saturday we will rouse from our drunken sleeps in no fit state to do anything but watch stand-up comedy and horror movies. Once I feel up to it Saturday night I will tattoo myself under Janey’s watchful eye, make an attempt at cooking a cow’s heart and drink more. Sunday will see Pow arrive (hopefully) bright and early for a serious photo session for Johnny and general funtimes. The weekend will mostly just be amazing and made of win and everyone should be jealous. I can see us getting barred from places, sicking up (that’ll mostly be Janey) and offending many. It’ll be fun.
Reading old letters
Good dreamsCarbonated water
Free tattoos
Opening post
Planning playdates
Orange juice WITH pulp
Hyperbole and a Half
When everyone else is sunburnt and i'm not
Tom Waits
Heath Ledger
Magnetic Fields
the hippodrome (yes, that's me being tiny inside that massive, destroyed theatre)
The lists of things that come to mind when people first think of me... this is for a secret project, one that will be revealed in due course. the list is as follows.. beers around a fire, my voice, my accent, ear piercings, guinea pigs, an oversized plastic peanut with a tiny chirping bird inside, crochet, chinese buns, cupcakes, sushi, tattoos, wool, small lap dogs, burgers, benches, colour, light, denzel washington, taxidermy, general tat, bright-coloured clothing, animal skins, horrible packaged american foodstuffs, fags, ducks, hair, stars, cake, pink, perverted 'my little ponies,' laughing, vaginas, paisley-print, breakfast foods, makeup, hairdye, glasses, houndstooth, s'mores cereal, red straws, carnival rides, sandals, jeans, marker pens... it was a glorious list.
Saturday, 8 May 2010
Divorce: Day 231
Thirty-three weeks weeks ago today the whole of my life altered completely.
Thirty-three weeks ago today I was still married, but very unhappily. Things between chris and I had become so strained that he had resorted to hating a very good friend of his and calling into my place of work to check and see if I was in. the arguments were heated and often, leaving our relationship in such a state of disrepair that we decided we had no choice but to give up. We were both tired physically, emotionally and mentally. It was too much to have to deal with anymore… well, I am really only at liberty to speak to myself, but I can’t help but think that he would agree were he to be reading this.
all those weeks ago i never anticipated that i would have come as far as i have or done the things i have done.
i found myself alarmed the other night at the realization that it has indeed been eight months since we ended things. the revelation came to me perched at the bar in my favourite pub... i was chatting with franny and fondly remembering all the fabulous times i've had there over the last two years and already finding myself pining for the saturdays i won't be able to prance into that beautiful little place on newland street and smell the familiar stale beer scent that i have come to love so much, saturdays when i won't be going home covered in dog hair after romping around drunkenly with buddy, the tiny resident canine.
memories came to me, swirling in the shape of gigs, cupcake extravaganzas and fag breaks with strangers... all of which were done by the side of my then-husband. the bulk of my first memories there involved chris in some way... it's not until recently, perhaps the last couple of months that i've found myself willing to go out on my own and have a good time. now though, most of my saturdays tend to see me prancing out to the pub if only to drink myself into a stupor and heckle the local hussies, disableoids and hideous chodes that filter in and out of the pub with the owner, nick. i love and cherish my saturdays and am on a mission to occupy as many of them as possible with fabulous memories involving elderflower cider, franny, nick and billy ocean. i seem to have very happily developed the ability to go out and have a good time on my own, something i never anticipated i'd be able to do had you asked me to eight months ago... now though, i go out and am finding myself existing with a new-found confidence that i have fallen madly in love with.
the last two weeks my mobile has played host to countless texts from my ex-husband... the first arriving on the day of my newest tattoo... i was reclining in a pub on a sofa that was seemingly made of clouds, musing over the fabulousness of life when my mobile vibrated on the table. i scooped it up expecting a comical limerick from Pow or some sort of love from the boyface, but instead it quoted the sender as 'Estranged.' i snorted at janey and opened it to find a fairly casual text asking when my tattoo would be occurring and how i was. i replied advising i had just left the tattoo shop and asking if he wanted to see a photo of my newest inky baby. he said he did so i sent him a photo and asked how he was. janey and i were in the middle of discussing what his motives were for being so friendly when i got another ping/vibrate telling me about his day and generally being delightful.
this has been going on now for the last eleven days. this all comes as a surprise to me after a meal we had round mine three weeks ago. chris arrived at mine with the intent of looking at the fishy babies and planning what to do with them when i offered him a meal as i had baked bread and was making spaghetti. he obliged and we had a really lovely meal that saw us range in topics of conversation from Muffin to Manface to the fact that we both believe americans over-medicate everyone and everything they possibly can. we ate and talked and had a generally nice time... all to be squared-away by a final thought, a'la jerry springer, outlining the fact that talking to me was still incredibly painful for chris and he most likely wouldn't be in touch for a while.
despite this forecast the conversations have been flowing and chris and i have been getting on quite well... he is finally finding himself able to talk more about things, claiming that he's decided he wished he could hate me, but at the end of the day, he really does like talking to me and i know him really well, so it's nice for him.
i would be lying if i were to say that it's nice to finally be able to talk to him and be amicable. i am slowly learning to stop referring to manface by her loving pet-name and i am remembering slowly why he is a really good person. he's funny, quick and JUST the right amount of cynical. it's nice to have that back in my life, at a lovely and safe distance.
the distance comes in the form of texts... mostly daily... the content ranging from topics about bands we are both listening to and how things are going with our prospective significant others.
the last day or two my mobile has housed texts discussing how surreal it is for him that i am leaving. he just keeps repeating that he can't believe i'm going. i don't really know what to do with this information, so i am just putting it in an envelope and filing it away with the other strange and confusing bits of my life.
in other divorce-related news, i have officially met ANNA (who i plan to, from here-on-out, refer to by her real name, at the request of chris... i am feeling nice, so i have obliged). this happened on a night i was particularly drunk and looking incredibly fabulous. i was on form enough to prance over, shriek about my ducks (see later blog) and then grab her and apologize for ever upsetting her. she seemed pleased and said she'd like to talk if i was going to be around later in the night... i said i was, but once i had another drink in me the bile in my stomach said i wasn't.
last night sealed the amicable deal, when during my regular date-night at bar one, whilst sat at my regular seat (which offers me the PERFECT perspective of any and all people who might enter the pub) with nick and franny, ANNA and chris walked in... i was desperate to contain my glee as i pulled out my little tin covered in unicorns and moustaches which houses my smoking (cancer) products. i told franny she needed to smoke as well and we pranced outside to see them sat there with their perspective drinks. franny and i chatted a bit and then, somehow, i can't really recall, i was beckoned over to them. we chatted about the fact that i had seen ANOTHER man dying (see later blog), about the gallery opening nick and i went to and how incredibly inebriated i was.
we bantered for a while and i was then saved by an attack stage left... it was my squishy pow-face and amy. i spun around and immediately embraced amy, then pow. the three of us squealed about everything and then nothing... then got more drinks.
the remainder of the night was just delightful. i existed in between chats with Nick and ANNA/Chris/Mark... ever-being followed by amy, so as to ensure i said or did nothing stupid. we smoked, drank and generally got on okay. it was nice and today, i can say that my divorce is going okay... chris and i have gone past the horrible fighting stage and are now on regular speaking terms again, which pleases me. despite all the bad times we had, he's a really good person and i hated the thought of losing that.
now, please enjoy some photos from last night...
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