Aubergine Dreams

Yes I'm very dull, no I've not been anywhere else, yes i'd love to, but no I won't afford it, not in this life time anyway :(

2005-12-08T20:23:00.000Z

create your own visited countries map
or vertaling Duits Nederlands

Yes, I'm still alive

2005-10-30T14:51:00.000Z

Just about. I've been busy knitting, moping, slaving away at work etc.

Just a quick one about more stuff I feel I really need. I caved and bought the boots though so I really can't justify it. I mean, I probably could justify it, but my bank wouls stomp all over me with charges on the extra cash I'd need and I've only bought one present so far for christmas and there's only one more payday unless I shop on Christmas eve.

I have this tattoo on my right calf. It's from a book by HR Giger called the Mystery of St. Gottardo. Now there's jewellery to be had and I love it!

Where's the billionaire with the Angina when you need him, eh?

BTW, I don't think I ever mentioned my tattoo's before, did I? I'm not sure. I have 10 in all. Fun fact for the day is that.

2005-08-30T21:23:00.000Z

was going to post something about a wedding I went to and various recent house sitting duties, but there's a hedgehog crunching it's way through a saucer of slug covered catfood just outside my back door, so I'm off to watch her with my fingers in my ears instead.

I know it's rude to stare at someone when they're eating, and she's probably flea ridden and will pass on ticks to my cats, but she's sooooo cute, scrunching up her little eyes when she hits slug instead of supermeat.

We don't put it out for her, btw, it's the cats that he's refusing to eat because he's too hot; and it's outside to prevent it drawing fly's, wasps, slugs and all our neighbour's cats into our kitchen while it's too warm to shut the door yet.

2005-08-13T21:47:00.000Z

At the moment I'm happy and content.
In the grand scheme of things I'm still a moody miserable cow, but this week has brought a few nice things that have cheered me up.

I finally got a book delivered from Amazon that I've been waiting ages for. It's the latest translated work by my favorite artist Junko Mizuno.
It's several pieces done as a serial, collated into one book.

"In this dreamy science fiction fantasy, Junko Mizuno illustrates a story full of catfights, alien safari adventures, evil experiments and a girl who dreams of becoming a pop idol. Following the Third World War, humankind left the toxic surface of the Earth and built an underground city to survive. A serious social problem has emerged in this new society: hyperorexia, or severe overeating, a side effect of the "Pure Trance" life-sustaining pill."

Wow, all my favorites, who could want more.

I have all of her stuff, some English translations and some in Japanese (some in both I'm ashamed to say) and some magazines or books which contain just one page or one teeny illustration by her.
She's one of the few people who's stuff I'll actually admit I'm an out and out fan of.
"Fans" always strike me as a bit creepy and obsessive. I don't see why you need to know every particle of information about someone to appreciate their art, writing or film making. A bit of back ground can be enlightening, but it can also sap all the magic out of a performance or a piece.
So I'm a fan of her work, and admire her for her work, but I couldn't tell you her star sign or anything, like I say, fandom can be creepy as hell.

I also just finished a Modesty Blaise book.
I love Modesty, I want to be her. I love the total retro escapist nonsense of those books. I've read all but one and a bit. The one is proving hard to get hold of and the bit I have, but it's a short story in a collection where Modesty and Willie DIE! I'm putting it off and may never actually read it.

On Monday My mate took me to see Devils Rejects. I was almost put off by the fact that it's the sequel to House of 1000 Corpses, which is dire, even when watched while half cut, but he wanted to treat me to a trip to the movies and it was that or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (no, no and no again!).
I really enjoyed it, and he was right, I did need a trip to the movies, I hadn't been in what seemed like and age!
It's actually a good film, bit self indulgent at times and shameless rip off of / beautifully done homage to, 70's road movies and horror (Texas chainsaw for sure). It's slick and smoothly done and has a really good soundtrack, i.e. no White Zombie.

I watched, and have no shame in admitting to watching, the first episodes of Lost, which has just started screening over here. It was the reviews that compared it to Twin Peaks that won me over the most.
It's sod all like Twin Peaks, too polished and neat, but it is a bit fucking weird. Only a bit mind, it's still very mainstream.
I enjoyed it thoroughly though, I know I'm going to be hooked, for Dr Jack if nothing else (OK you can throw things at me for my being a total girl now if you like).

My Nan made a batch of raspberry jam and I've been eating it on crusty bread with English butter all week.

For those of you overseas, specifically in the US, Jam is the stuff which comes in jars, made from fruit boiled up with sugar and pectin (my Nan uses currants instead of packet pectin, nicer by far, I think you can use apple juice or gooseberries too, but don't take my word for it).

You call it Jelly, it's not Jelly, jelly is the stuff thats made from fruit flavoured Gelatine, is made in molds, is eaten with icecream by children at parties, and wobbles on a plate.

You call that Jello. Knock yourselves out with that one, but don't call Jam Jelly.

I've also been knitting some more, which has almost dented the happy theme. I won't go on too much and turn this into a knitting blog, most knitting stuff is totally lost on none knitters, and can, frankly, get a bit dull.

I've been doing an intarsa pattern, also known as fairisle, which is where you knit a pattern with different coloured wool.

It's also a way to find out swear words you didn't know you knew as it's really fucking difficult!

I've unraveled it twice. I'm trying very hard to stay zen about it and have a piece of piss scarf going on the side to switch to when it get near to throwing it out the window or burning it. I think it's good though that I'm mature enough now to see when it needs to be unraveled and started over, rather than having a tantrum and giving up or just plowing on and undoing up with a mess.

That makes me happy.

That's all for now.

2005-08-02T17:52:00.000Z

4 pages of strip to screen comparisons for Sin City.

Even more absa-fucking-lutely amazing than I first thought it was.

2005-07-27T22:28:00.000Z

On blogger depression

2005-07-25T18:25:00.000Z

Hmmm.
If you have brown skin, don't have a very good command of the english language, come from a country where people do carry guns in the street, organised crime is a real issue, and so if you see a bunch of armed guys running at you (failing to reveal themselves as police officers until you're already fleeing in blind panic, according to some witness reports), it's a fucking good idea to run like hell;
watch out, you're fair game.

Having worked for the court service and a criminal law solicitors, I've seen how very often the police fuck up due to over unprofessional, emotional responses and dumb, macho bullishness, it scares me that there's so little condemnation of their laxity anyway (often, btw, leading to a real criminal escaping conviction through their stupidity) let alone when they're armed.

I've read of, heard of and spoken to people, "normal" folk, just going about their day, who've been affronted and outraged that they've simply been stopped and searched by the police because they fitted one profile or another (young and black, male and asian, middle aged creepy looking loner) or been in a certain place at a sensitve time.
The reasons that happened to them, the justification given, is barely a heartbeat away from the reasons that an innocent man, who came to our country to work hard because he heard it was safe here and free from the violence rife in his homeland, got shot five times in the head at close range while being held down.

You got him in the head, at close range, why five times if you're not being over-emotional or trigger happy? I can see why any londoner would be emotional, angry and afraid right now, but that's not what armed police officers are PAID to be, they're supposed to be professionals, paid for with my tax money.
For many this is showing to be a case of "not in my name (as long as it's not in my back yard)", don't shoot the arabs over there, but knock yourself out over here.

Never mind how much it costs the taxpayer (that'd be me then) when some numbnuts gorilla in blue serge lets off a few rounds.

This is why I avoid social comment, I have an acid stomach now.

On a less angry note, anyone who read about my change in sanitary protection a couple of posts ago, Aunt flo's gone home, and the diva cup was fantastic!
None of the faintly icky new problems I'd anticipated, and none of the niggles I'd had with other options. I'm a convert, almost evangelical, and despite being a bit expensive, it'll have paid for itself within three months.
And I get to be a smug enviornmentally friendly person.

aye me

2005-07-22T22:51:00.000Z

I'm really unsure how I feel about today's shooting in London. I know there are huge and far reaching reasons and repercussions, but I'm not a journalist nor a political blogger. I write this for me, about me, so I'm writing about how this has made me feel.
It'll ramble on for ages, so if you think I should feel some kind of obligation towards social comment or repotage, you may as well bugger off because I don't.
I care and am interested, but that's not what my blog is for.

I don't want my (relatively speaking) beautiful free country to become a place where the police need to shoot people, especially 5 times while already being pinned down.
I well accept that the guy probably did pose a large, immediate and deadly threat, and the police had to respond with similar force, but our police being armed gives my the heeby's, let alone when the officer reacts in a way which wouldn't look out of place on screen in some multiplex.
The police force is neccessary and includes many fine officers who do a difficult job well. It also attracts some of the most heinous arseholes in the universe. Then they arm them.
I have to say, if I was passionate enough about something to strap a bomb to myself, you'd have to be fucking quick on the draw to shoot me before I pushed the button, so guns against fanatics with bombs sits uneasily with me.

So, feeling uneasy and insecure, I want to aquire things, stuff.
Part of the reason I have my big debt is that, when I get upset, insecure or anxious, especially when they're a result of one of my depressive downswings, I spend money. I felt all of these in spades after my ex was done with fucking with my head.

Buying aquiring stuff makes me feel safe, better. It gets absurd, If I didn't cave and start back on my meds every now and then, I'd be one of those crazies living surrounded by boxes unopened and only bought for the sake of buying.

I love beautiful things anyway, and books, but the road I go down when upset is absurd. I'm a big girl, but I'll buy clothes that will never fit me. It's not self delusion or wishful thinking, I do it because they're beautiful and I'll feel better for having them even though I can't wear them.

Stuff will never let you down, change it's mind, lie, cheat, none of that crap you get with people. Getting new stuff makes me feel safe. I'm not shallow enough to think that stuff, or spesific "cool" or exclusive stuff makes me a special or better person, that you are what you own, it just makes me feel safe.

I've got a handle on my spending (sorta) these days. I have an amazon wishlist with over 400 items, I dump it in there instead of the basket.
I have a folder in my explorer favorites list called "want it", I save the links there and while I may spend a vast and unhealthy amount of time pouring over them, I don't buy.

This unease that isn't a fear of being blown up, but a fear of the changes in the air, has got be wanting things. I've fond mountians of things I want, I've actually got to the checkout stage on three sites tonight before talking myself down.

But then I do actually want these, as my old ones just like them died. I'd feel so happy to get that box delivered to my door, providing a continuity with the times gone where I felt confident and free, when I could go out wearing these (yes, looking quite a lot like some kind of gothic punk hooker, lord knows how/if I actually carried it off).
I don't think I'd wear them now, but the pull is so strong.

The things that go on inside my head scare me sometimes. I'm not about to kill a train full of people because of my belief in aquiring stuff, I can't hurt anyone by needing new beautiful things.
I'm not saying my neuroses have parity with a fanatical religious conviction, or that such total faith in the fairytales of religion is indicative of mental illness, but it scares me what people's wants and needs drive them to do, what they feel the need to do to feel safe, because I can see in myself how it escelates and overrides sense.

2005-07-13T22:02:00.000Z

fucking blogger is formatting my post. I want spaces between my paragraphs dammit and it is refusing to put them in. Fuckers.

Possible TMI Alert

2005-07-13T21:37:00.000Z

Possibly too much info coming up.

Just a warning, especially for the gents/blokes that read this, I know guys can get squeemish about some stuff, and this IS a little gross in places.

It's not period stuff, but is close

I know this is a tad gross, but it's pissing me off something royal so I'm blogging it because I don't have to share a home or workplace with any of you lot.

I have an in-growing hair in my minge!

It won't stop, it's been like it for nearly two months now and it won't go away! It's like a spot, not a nasty infectious sex thing (Ah, sex, I dimly remember sex...) it's up near the top hair line, a bit to the left (my left, just to help with the LOVELY mental picture), like the kind of in-growing hair guys get in their beards, but witht the extra wiry pube factor to make it more annoying.

I wash properly, I exfoliate like a good girl, I keep it all neat, sometimes I'm bored and it all goes anyway (try to avoid that because of annoying hedgehog-in-knickers feeling that follows) but then this bugger pops up, or doesn't. I gave in and burst the sucker and the hair was a MILE long, all growing under the skin. I duely yanked it out (erm, ouch much?!) and TCP'd the whole area. But nope, it starts back in, and it's still in-growing! Yanked and doused with TCP once more, then AGAIN it happens.

I've broken the skin a little and done the TCP but I don't want to mess too much in case it bleeds, then I'd have a scab, then it wouldn't grow past it.

I'm irritated, apart from showering in bleach I don't know what else I can do and I'm sooooo impatient and I know in my heart the best thing now is to leave it alone unless it starts to look ominous.

And I have a spotty minge, which despite not being an unsavory transmittable thing and only an in-grown pube, is horrible.

Sorry about that. Warned you though.

Oh and I will stray into period territory. I'm a bit of a hippy on the quiet, I worry that my periods create a lot of waste each month, down the loo or in the bin. It's bothered me for a while, and then I read on one of the forums I visit about these. I've got one and I'm using it this month for the first time when I get the painters in.

I think I will be quite smug in my environmentally sounder, hippy like, less loo visits than before, earth mother on the blob way.

It may make up for the minge spot misery

2005-07-01T22:55:00.000Z

This myspace lark is quite absorbing, in the same way I manage to get sucked into Big Brother each year.
I know it's horrible, I know it's monstrously mundane, but people and how they act (even if it is an act) facinate me.

I've also had 3 (count 'em) marriage proposals.
Two from African countries ("i decieded to write to you because you are the type of stuff i need...There is nothing that i am looking for that you should accept FRIENDSHIP and that will lead to MARRY" aww bless, but colour me cynical, a visa too maybe?) and one from middle America.
This on a short bio (a lot of which is true but only a very selective portion of me to obfuscate for ex bf reasons) and a picture of a stripper called Honey Holiday I found and saved on tinternet while drunk and cannot re-locate!

I also had a conversation on msn with a young boy who wanted to get to know me "betta". Paraphrased, and not including all his kiddie internet spelling that was mostly vowel free and comprised of letters from the rear end of the alphabet only:

he: hiya, you look sexy, I want to get to know you better.
me: that's not me, read my profile, and I don't like kids, also in my profile.
he: but you look hot.
me: IT'S NOT ME!!!
he: and I'm not a kid, I'm almost 18. I want to meet with you and have some fun.
me: run along, find someone with at least one thing in common with your profile in theirs, and it's STILL not me in that damn picture!!

Also, you'll probably know this, you get bulletins from folk who you've added as friends, and I got this one, don't follow this link if you've just eaten, you're under 18, or if you think cruelty in humour is very very wrong.
Let's just warn you with the fact that I didn't realise the subject of a couple of pictures on here until a hand strayed into the frame. It's not mean to animals though.
I'm quite amused by moderately cruel humour, but in places this goes a little too far (the writer seems a tad misogynistic to me, almost certainly no looker himself).
I'm still spreading it over my bit of the inernet though *holds out hand for slap and judgement*

also, for your delight, delectation, and in the hope someone may know about her or have more pictures than I do, Miss Honey Holiday!

I'll stand by it til the end of time; guys are so predictable!

2005-06-27T22:18:00.000Z

I put up ONE post that contains the words breasts, whip and masochist, and my vivitor stats go through the roof!

I can't help feeling a little sorry for the poor buggers who came here expecting a flash, or some porn.

2005-06-27T18:38:00.000Z

Here is a unique keychain from a Japan-- an eggplant bell in metallic purple with lucky dream signs engraved in it! Over 1" long, this lucky eggplant may bring you luck when attatched to your knapsack, keychain, or pencil case. On one side is Mount Fuji painted on it with "Fuji" written in hiragana. On the other side is a hawk, with the Japanese "taka" above it. It is believed that dreaming one of these three elements will bring the dreamer good fortune--Fuji for beauty, the hawk for courage and the eggplant for bounty, in that order with the best dream being about Mt. Fuji. This tradition goes back to the Edo period of Japan, so carry a little bit of luck with you--and pleasant dreams!

Aubergine dreams!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2005-06-26T23:41:00.000Z

Oh dear. I caved and signed up on myspace.
I'm still not a 16 year old mentally deficient twat, but i kinda hoped that with full access I could meet a better class of folk. I have 4 friends so far, one of them is jeagermeister, one of them is a guy I just friended because I think he's hot and might be able to tell me good places to go in leeds where my mate lives now.
Apparently it's an aim to get as many friends as you can, an online popularity contest. I'm fucked right away, I think it's going to fall fallow after this weekend of giving it a chance.

I'm horrible anyway, signed up under false id (the ex is on there somewhere, he does a good enough job of stalking me and fucking up my life with his nasty contact attempts without me giving him a key to the door!!) and I've friended people who say they hate liars. I'm not usually, but... aw, but nothing, no excuse.

I'm still not sticking avidly to the damn creepy embarressing thing. I don't think I'm fond enough of taking pictures of my own breasts for myspace.

Although I did scan them as soon as I got a scanner. I managed to line them up wrong, or rather not give any thought to lining them up, and they looked all wonky, both "looking" in different directions. Couldn't stop laughing for days...

But I did nick another quiz, saves me rotting my brain by surfing quizilla.

You're Whip Bettie. You're definitely on the
masochistic side. You like to sport dark colors
and especially black vinyl. Pain is
beauty...and well SEXY! Many see you as a
bitch, but that's okay, you can't always be
around to say thank you :)

Which Bettie Page Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Homicidal maniacs?

2005-06-25T17:53:00.000Z

Any one know any? I'll give them an address and a description of to to follow away from it.

Either that or i need some other way to make my ex fuck off and leave me be. I found out he still has my old number stored to his phone. The old number for the old phone I don't have anymore, the phone he's been sending obscene messages to for someone else, who does now own the phone, to read.
Having been told what was in them, it seems he's got some other poor cow as his bit on the side now.
I hope she's aware that all she is to him is a bunch of holes to fuck. Sorry to be crude but I hope the poor cow isn't being fooled into thinking he gives a shit about another person but himself, especially a female person.

I just wish he'd update the entry for "worthless dumb whore" in his phone so it's her number instead of my old one, it's embarrassing for the guy who does now own it.

Or, more realistically, I wish a homicidal maniac would find him and, well, do his maniacally homicidal thing. Slowly.

2005-06-23T23:24:00.000Z

I think I must be getting old for jigsaw's to impress me this much, or I need to get more sleep, but I think this is real neat!

lazy lazy give me your answers tooo...

2005-06-23T20:43:00.000Z

You are Jack the Ripper. Yours were some of the
most brutal murders recorded in history--yet
your case is still to this day unsolved. You
came from out of the fog, killed violently and
quickly and disappeared without a trace. Then
for no apparent reason, you satisfy your blood
lust with ever-increasing ferocity, culminating
in the near destruction of your final victim,
and then you vanish from the scene forever. The
perfect ingredients for the perennial thriller.
You are quite the mysteriously demented?

Which Imfamous criminal are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

You Are Tequilla

When you drink, you're serious about getting drunk!
You'll take any shot that's offered up to you...
Even if it tastes like sock sweat!
And you're never afraid of eating the worm.

What alcoholic drink are you?

Can't you tell it's hot as hell here? I'm so heat spazzed that I've been trawling around Myspace thinking of getting an account. Then dusk started to creep in and brought with it my mind and the memory of the fact that I'm not a 16 year old mentally deficient twat, so I'd not have much in common with the majority of folk who are members.

But I still like to nick their quizzes.

2005-06-14T22:37:00.000Z

Crrrreeepy as hell little thing

It's worth watching all of the different variations though.
Wait for the entire movie to load (13.16 Mb), then click the glowing objects.
There's a little story with a couple of different threads behind each, you do have to keep clicking glowing things to progress, and you get choices along the way.

Fucking creepy though.

ETA: even fucking creepier with the sound on!!

2005-06-05T22:07:00.000Z

wide awake and surfing around. I'm bored and down and trying not to be a mess. So seeing these quizzes caught my eye, the miserable goth in me fighting for supremacy and all.

You're Bauhaus, the grandfather's of goth. You
probably don't call yourself a goth...but that
just makes you cooler. Nice boots, by the way
}:)

What Goth Band Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

You're a Denial Goth! You are so not Goth. In
fact you're Post-Punk/Darkwave/Whatever lesser-
known synonym for goth is popular this week.
Give it up, it's obvious you're a Goth.

What kind of Goth would you be?
brought to you by Quizilla

The fact that I'm listening to northern soul right now does take away from the Goth factor. Uplifting though the tunes are, it's still mighty depressing, that may just be me though.

God I'm bored.

I'm switching to the sisters and surfing some more.

2005-06-04T22:21:00.000Z

The bruise is long gone, but it was beautiful, like watching a sunset with all the changing colours, despite it being on my arse (where the sun does actually shine from, funnily enough)

Leeds was great, I got asked out and chatted up left and right! Great confidence booster, despite it being patently obvious that northern lads are just easily impressed and totally shameless flirts.

The date was OK but panned out to nothing. I think it's going to be a while before I can trust people (men) enough so as not to come off cold and distant to them.

My shit of an ex made contact, again. The man is starting to really hack me off now. I wish I'd kept all the emails and messages, so I could go to the police, or the courts, and make him stay away. I just didn't want parts of him sitting around on my computer, in my life.
I think he just wanted me to look at his new myspace page. Typical him, mutton dressed as lamb, trying to flirt with all the young dumb kids on there. Sad pathetic old fucker.

I've managed to find a hair colour thats almost Jessica Rabbit red, but I suspect it'll wash and fade out to ginger, which is no biggy, but not as cool. I just gotta get a corset that moves my entire midrift up into a phenomenal cleavage now, and then I'm set.

Just got in from watching Sin City, which is great, All my favorites, violence, pretty girls and hopeless, fatal, romance.
*sigh* I'd love a man who'd blow his brains out to save my life.
I'd love a few men to just blow their brains out anyway, but that's just silly wishing.
Too many romantic fairytales read to me as a kid. One of my favorite poems my mom used to have to read to me again and again as a kid was The Highwayman.
It fitted my Adam Ant crush, and was one of her favorites too, and an excuse to hide in my room at night to hide from my dad.
Re-reading it now, it may actually explain a lot; tied to the foot of a bed... crikey...

2005-05-05T11:17:00.000Z

The bruise is now scarlette, purple and has a greenish tinge at the edges. I was right, Tiger balm stung like hell, I now have some Arnica cream.

I have a date. Christ knows how I'm going to dress or act or anything. I haven't had a date since the dawn of time. I have a whole week and a half to work myself into a worry over it.

Right now, I'm off to Leeds for much drinking and fun.

2005-05-02T23:29:00.000Z

Just to add, I watched Dr Who.
The Dalek was not nearly as evil as my ex.
I actually quite felt for it.
Actually, I cried a bit, but I am a girl and had time-of-the-month hormones going on there.

2005-05-02T23:16:00.000Z

I'm still hungover from last night and it's just after midnight.
I have a HUGE bruise on my arse (it takes up one whole cheek, that's how huge!!) and a bruise and cut on my arm.
I have a nagging spasm in my right calf from dancing/ pogoing in 5 inch heels.

But I saw the Buzzcocks live and they fucking rocked, so I don't care

The Stranglers headlined and they sucked.
I saw my ex and his new woman. He looked shit, fat and bored, she (I know, I know, nothing against her really but I must crow) is dumpy and middleaged, and I looked hot for a change, slim by miracles of water tablets, crash diets, black clothes, heels and smoke and mirrors.

And I saw the buzzcocks live and they fucking rocked, did I mention that?

I'm off to double check online what to put on bruises of this magnitude, my sister says Tigerbalm, I suspect she's wrong and that that would sting.

Oh and btw, I fell on slippy stairs when only mildly wasted. It was not a total drunken fall.
I have witnesses who've told me this, as I couldn't remember falling hard enough for it to leave my arse black (it is black, and bright blue, almost electric. I'd post pictures, but no-one wants to see that).

I do remember seeing the Buzzcocks live, and they fucking rocked.

lazy post

2005-04-29T19:41:00.000Z

Your Birthdate: March 15

With a birthday on the 15th of any month, you are apt to have really strong attachments to home, family and domestic scene.

The 1 and 5 equaling 6, provide the sort of energy that makes you an excellent parent or teacher.

You are very responsible and capable.

This is an attractive and an attracting influence.

You like harmony in your environment and strive to maintain it.

You tend to learn by observation rather than study and research.

You may like to cook, but you probably don't follow recipes.

This number shows artistic leanings and would certainly support an talents that may be otherwise in your makeup.

You're a very generous and giving person, but perhaps a bit stubborn in ways.

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Hmmm, not sure on that, aprt from not following recipies.

2005-04-25T19:24:00.000Z

nothing.she was drunk.talking shit and upsetting me.old people get like that sometimes.feel a bit stupid now i've talked to my sister. sorry for wasting your time.wouldn't have got in contact otherwise.am extremely angry with her (and myself).hope all is ok and sorry for this.a bit like the time you had to get in touch over other people talking shite and putting you in a situation where you had to get in contact to put things straight.forget about it.

I couldn't not email him, I asked what I was supposed to do, he sent that.
Fucking knew it, fucking twat.
I sincerely doubt it came from his mother, I know now, reading this that it was one of his lame attempts at contact and emotional blackmail.

He knows as well as I do that we're bound to bump into one another at this big gig on Mayday, I think he may want to reduce the likely hood of a "scene", which he knows he can do by staying the fuck away from me.

The time he's talking about, by the way, when others were talking shite and I had to contact him to put things straight, was on my old blog, the reason I shut it down in fact.
An old "friend" posted his email address in a comment after I'd spent the ENTIRE blog recounting how he fucked me over (I was even more bitter and hostile back then) and someone reading it sent him a (deservedly) flamey email. He contacted me to rant about me posting his mail address on the web (bollocks) and what he's calling my getting in contact was in fact telling him what had actually happened and to fuck off. Again.

I blame the daleks, he's watched doctor who on saturday night and got all nostalgic, that's what it is. I thought of him when I saw the dalek teaser for next week too, I thought,
"that dalek wants to wipe out the human race, he's still not as much of a cunt as my ex."

suddenly, from the ex, from his band's info-page email so it'd get through the blocks I have up

2005-04-24T21:21:00.000Z

"i do not care if you reply to this.my mother is ill,she likes you.that is enough for me.she wanted you around when she ges.she does not know about this.leave it that way.shit,i miss you too."

And what the fuck should I do about it? I hate him so much still.
His mother was the only boyfriend-mom not to curse me and call me "that girl" in damning tones.
We lived at her house, she looked after me, she mopped up my tears more than once, my blood on one occasion, I really care about her.

But I can't believe him or trust him, hell, I don't even know what, if anything, is wrong with her. "when she ges"?!? fucker could never type, or he's drunk, does he mean when she goes? Is she really close to dying?
I gave him my shoulder and more when his dad was supposed to be ill a while ago, this could just be a ploy to get at me again.

I don't know what the fuck to do.
I can't even do a panic call to my friens as my mothers shiftless bloke has decided to call her tonight for the first time in forever and is hogging the line.

This is not fucking helping with the wierd fucking feelings of the last few days!!

2005-04-22T20:47:00.000Z

I've realised whats wrong, i think. I miss my mate.
She's moved cities, that's all, not gone to the moon or anything, and I was shit at keeping in contact when she only lived a bus ride away.

But I miss her not being just a bus ride away.

Miserable-y

2005-04-21T20:08:00.000Z

I just read how someone else is feeling miserable and, it being quite out of character for them to be so, or if they are to dwell on it or announce it, sort of apologising for that.
Man I owe everyone who reads this an apology if misery is a social crime!

I don't post all that often but when I do it's usually when something's pissed me off a great deal and I need to vent, so the majority of what's here is whiney misery. Or ranty ranting.

At the moment I've come off my meds completely, so I feel odd.
Not miserable (or I'd be back rattling asap), just sort of disjointed and odd.
I suffer with clinical depression, I may have posted about that back on here, or more likely on my old blog, too lazy to go check really, but it's just something off kilter in my head. There's no reason for it other than that.
I mean, the world is still a shitty place, but that's not the cause of my depression (it may be a symptom that I feel this way about the world, but there's plenty of people with perfect mental health who feel the same I'm sure) it's just there.

I hate taking my medication and only do so when I stop being able to function properly. I tried for a while, after having to leave a job through my illness. I was on incapacity benefit, deemed unable to work,so ineligible for jobseekers. People who sit on the dole saying they're too depressed to work are chatting shit, if you're too depressed to work they whip jobseekers away from you like lightening.
I fucking hated it. not only was I off meds, ten forced onto them to no real effect, I was just sitting there, leaching, being nothing useful. I became more and more pathetic as the time with no real purpose drove on. People will say how pointless their job feels, but it's not half as fucking pointless as spending the day sitting on a bus going round and round or re-organising a book shelf just to have something to do to fill time, pathetic.

Fortunately I could see this for myself at a wierd once removed state and pulled myself up sharpish with the help of a few dear close friends. I got a job and moved back into being a functioning human being again rather than the loser I was.

That was years ago now, and a place I never want to go back to. I still hate taking my meds though. And I still hate this disjointed daydreamy way I feel after I come off them too.
No pleasing me really, I'm a truly miserable cow.

I also noticed tonight that the people across the road's TV has a 3 second lag behind mine. They also don't shut their curtains or turn on the living room lights, so I could see that they had the same program's on as me, but a tiny fraction later than me.
Maybe they felt too lazy to get up and flip the light switch and draw the curtains too. Maybe there's a gas leak in the road or something and it's not my meds, we're all slowing down doped by gas.
Probably not though, eh?

2005-04-09T13:38:00.000Z

Sodding blogger.
I finished my big long domestic violence post, and it ate it.
I tried to highlight and save it, but for some reason my comuper wouldn't recognise that there was some text there to copy, so I was lost.
I tried to go for this recover lost post thingy, but I can't find that button on my create post screen.

Not like writing that post was totally emotionally draining or anything.

Bugger.

2005-04-03T23:41:00.000Z

Hello if you're over from Graham's blog.

I'm not stalking him. I read his brother's blog as it's funny and interesting, as I read many other blogs, and other Live Journals because I have an LJ too. It's a hobby. I comment on them when the mood strikes me.

I stopped reading Graham's blog for a while, it was too mind numbing. He obviously carried on reading mine, so he could cherry-pick comments to repeat out of context.
My recent comment was from when I followed a link he himself provided after a comment I'd made on his brother's blog and was appalled at what I read, which he then took down and denied writing. I went back after that to back up a comment on another of his brother's posts, and read more of the divorced from reality pontificating that had caused me to stop reading the damn thing in the first place. It was about a subject which, as I've said, is very important to me so I posted a comment, as it was left available for me to do.

Graham is a disturbed individual who, after a one night stand, wouldn't let it go. I'd read his blog for a little while before meeting him, and before being able to put it into context, found it a little quirky and occaisionally sweet, thinking a lot of what was written was done with heavy irony. On realising I was wrong, I ceased contact and continued to occasionally read his blog but through different eyes.
I myself have had a couple of one night stands who've not returned further contact from me, I realised that this meant that it was done and over, and left it be. I didn't create a little wierd fantasy around it.

I'm going to carry on using blogger as intended, reading whatever other blogs are available to read and commenting when and where it's available to do so. I really couldn't care less about Graham and what he thinks I should do, if you have the resiliance to read through his archives you'll see far more posts about "this person" or "this girl" that is me in a very negative light than I've written about him at all.
Most, if not all, of my posts about him have been in response to one of these passive agressive personal attacks.

I shall carry on commenting, as I'm free to do, about my feelings on peopple who languish on social security with expensive but seemingly useless university educations, all paid for from my hard earned wage cheques. I dislike and dispise them.

My apologies to people (that's you Di and Mark especially as I know you both read this sometimes and care for him in different ways) who have been dragged into Graham's little world of self manufactured turmoil by this. It is stupid and petty, but then so is he.

Edited to add (I never edit out things I've written btw, unless it's a spelling or grammar cock up and I'm awake enough to notice it, I stand by things I say) no-one would have know that you were the regrettable shag at all if you hadn't provided the link yourself, I left out your name and description.

2005-03-26T13:15:00.000Z

I've been so busy at work that I've really neglected this blog. More so than usual, I at least normally add stuff to the couple of lurking drafts sat in my folder. I've barely even had time to read other people's blogs, which I love to do, and keep up with all my other online stuff.

I've seen a few gems, and one piece that was horrible, knee jerk, narrow minded tripe from someone I thought was more intelligent then that. Must be genetic, the sort of moronic drivel I expect from his brother. A bit too harsh a reaction there, but it was something very close to my heart.
I've avoided posting about it before, it gets my blood up too much. I'm now working on a draft post that's balanced, editing out all the shrieking and shouting, making it objective. I couldn't even comment sensibly as it just pissed me off so much, that takes a lot. I tend to take the internet with shovels of salt, I find most of it hugely amusing, but such crap from someone who's otherwise quite intelligent just makes me scream, "Why?!!!?? You must know better you dick face!!"
Like I say, editing my post before it goes up.
Edited to add, that person concerned isn't a dickface, his brother still is is spades, but he's not. My kneejerk reaction to his post was to call him that, undeservedly, apologies to him. My post will be up soon as I get time to finish it.

Di Gallagher, a lovely lady, has got up a site to buy her wonderful pictures on cafe press stuff. I'm too broke to buy so the least I can do is pimp her stuff so I feel better about the unreasonable jealousy her talent inspires!

I realised that I hadn't done the link to Ektopia properly a few posts ago, it's a really cool site with fantastic links to purty things, so worth looking at.

This is from michellemabelle over on lj, I use my live journal even less than I do blogger! Mostly just to see what my mates are up to.

hokay

1. grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. don't you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! i know you were thinking about it! just pick up whatever is closest.

"The two rays behind have been turned into a locking device on the joint of it's base."
(from "Life On Earth" by David Attenborough.)

This is page 122 as page 123 is a full page pic of a deep sea angler fish, which the text is describing. I have a totally irrational fear of fish (I live in Birmingham for god's sake) and that is one ugly scary fucker. Look on google, I'm not putting THAT up on here, too chicken.
All my books are upstairs, down here is all my mothers dragons of Pern type books, texts from all our various studies over time, and my sisters zoology books.

I'm off to finish my sweater I'm doing from knitty, I'm doing it in green with a faux leather trim instead of the ribbon, I'm not really a girl for bows.
The site's run by a woman from my Blythe world of friends, so it's doubly great!

Surfing the bolg-o-sphere, or whatever it's called

2005-02-27T15:34:00.000Z

If you're reading this, you probably have a blog yourself, and you definitely read other peoples blogs too.
Is this the first time you've visited my blog? Do you visit a lot (you must get out more if you do, this shit's dull as fuck), are there other blogs you visit on a regular basis?

I read other blogs, a few that I go back to time and again, all for different reasons. Some are intelligent and funny, some are interesting and informative and some are just car-crash awful and I'm one of those people who looks at that sort of thing (not actual car crashes) for comedy value.

I know this is a common thing in society in general, I see all sorts of "Oh my god look at that mess!" posts about all sorts of things on blogs, Live Journal (I'm on there too but post even less frequently than I do on here) and on online forums. Highlighting the pathetic and risible.

It's not the highest form of humour, nor the "nicest", but it is damn funny.
Unless "nice" is your highest aim, which I don't rate, not as in the opposite of nasty, I don't think nasty is a good thing, I'm talking "nice" not plain old nice. "niceness" often means bland and humorless people with no spine who are, frankly, whiners.

So back to my point, you have a blog, you read other blogs, and I'm assuming that, like me, when you read something that you feel really strongly about, for instance, for me dole scroungers (not people on benefit in general. I'm proud to live in country that helps it's weakest members when they're in trouble, even if the system is imperfect. I mean lazy arse's who can't be bothered to contribute to society and get a job but still expect money from my taxes to support their idle selves).
Does re-visiting public blogs, commenting as the writer has left it open for you to do, and defending your self when this person gets all bent that you've done so, constitute stalking? Or is it just using blogger as it's designed, and as personal settings allow. You read, you comment. I do it all over the place, probably more than I post on here!

I've been accused of being a Blog stalker. This is by this guy, who I spoke about here. I read his blog because, especially having met him and experienced his massive self delusion, I find it one of those car-crash bad things. I really don't have any feelings for him but revulsion and a general dislike, yet he's making out like I have some lingering crush to impress people.

For want of a better description of how I feel on that, EEEEEEwwwwwwwwww!!
He really seems to think that I had some other reason for sleeping with him other than being blind drunk, pissed off at someone else and, did I mention, blind drunk?

OK I'm not the greatest person in the world for doing that, but I accept my failings without trying to pass them off as being the fault of other people in my life.

I'm posting this mostly for the benefit of people following the link to here from his comments box. I just wanted you to read my side of this.
I'm not going to post and post in some OCD fashion like he has about me (there must be a dozen posts about or mentioning this person he doesn't want to be confrontational with, he's not confrontational you see, passive aggression makes you a much better person).
I'm only replying to his comments now to piss him off, which is the one and only thing he's on the mark about. If that makes me a bit childish, I don't care.
I'm not doing this out of bitterness (I mean ?! wtf?!, you want bitterness read my old blog, there's a link here somewhere), why would I have bitterness over some dumb one night stand, it's not like it's a new thing for me.

I don't think that reading and commenting on other peoples blogs is abnormal, I think it's what most of us on here do. If I get comments (very, very rare that my ramblings inspire comment) I accept them. I've had, actual, real problems on here, my old blog finished for those reasons. My personal details were posted all over the internet and emails sent to re-awaken damaging people I'd managed to get out of my life.
I can take a little criticism from total strangers without getting all fucked up over it, comment away, I'll accept it as part of being on blogger.
I may, however, delete his comments if they exceed two lines, like I said this blog is dull enough with out the mild bore whining all over it, he can carry on doing that in his own space.

2005-02-19T20:00:00.000Z

Trawling around online I found this site, this guy's stuff rocks, the one above is from a series of really great valentine *spit*spit* cards he's done.
I like this pic too

Basically, I found this guys journal, ektopia, where he posts art and artists, and I think it's quite cool, so I've leeched loadsa links off him.

This is funny as hell, and I love the teeny pac-man game, and I made a barcode from my name, I won't post mine here for obvious reasons.

And on another blog, I found this quiz
Which Buffy The Vampire Slayer Character Are You Most Like!?

You scored as Anya. You're a very straight forward person. Some people think you're self-centered, but you don't care. Though most of your relationships seem to shatter in front of your eyes, when you love it's with everything you are.

AAaaaaggghhh, bunnies... *runs away* ..................

2005-02-06T02:58:00.000Z

My baby cat is now mine for real.

I got him chipped. It was a MASSIVE big needle and I had a panic moment when the vet scanned him to see if he was already done, but now he's registered to me.

Jeeeezus!!

2005-01-29T01:31:00.000Z

I'm blogging 'cause I'm mighty pissed off.
It's dumb, it's over a forum I'm on. It's a Blythe forum.

It's not an ideal place, but I'm told it's really quite easy going compared to some places out there on the web. There are disagreements and stuff all the while, I tend to stay well out of all that.
The people I know on there I've known fro a while now. While I've not met most of them, they feel like friends.
Now one of the people I have met is being threatened by some troll. Real life threatened. I'm bloody seething. This woman spend a freezing cold day with me wandering around New York, about this time last year. She took me to a Japanese books store, to watch the skating at Rockerfeller Plaza (I'd not managed to find it by myself, doh) all with her Boyfriend patiently in tow (he shares my birthday oddly enough) she'd never met me before that day andshe was totally kind and patient and plesant. She's a genuinely lovely person.

Now this, frankly psycho, troll is making threats against her real life life. Not death threats, threats to sue. God I'm angry.

I know the net can bite, I stopped my old blog because someone (I know who it was, but they continue to try and deny it) posted mine and my ex's email address's up there. It wasn't a case of mockery or name calling, that I can cope with, even if it does (and it did) cross with real life, but some people have no decency.

I don't know if they are generally twats or if they think it's OK to fuck with other peoples lives as long as it's over the web not over coffee!

God I want to snack right now. I'm eating low fat cottage cheese with sugar free jam in it, but it's not working. There are bagels on the kitchen worktop calling my name, "toast me and drown me in butter Kelly... you know you want too...".
Makes me hate that troll even more!!

2005-01-29T01:03:00.000Z

Oh, and can anyone out there tell me in small easy words as I don't really get html, how to make the about me bit stick at the top instead of lurking way down here?

Present

2005-01-28T22:58:00.000Z

I got a present last night from the only guy in my life at the moment. He loves me totally and showers me with gifts an a regular basis, it gets quite embarrassing, I can't stop him.

Unfortunately the guy is my cat and the presents are all either alive, or only recently not so.

The most recent was a goldfish, from my next-door neighbor's pond. It was alive and flapping and he was so incredibly proud, sitting up dead straight squinting at me for all he's worth, that I couldn't shout at him.
I also couldn't watch it die, or mercy kill it, so I scooped it up into a bowl of water, thinking at least the poor thing could die in water, like that would make it ok.

The damn thing lived! That's cool, it's not dead, once again my little boy isn't a murderer, but it does mean I had to go to my neighbor, with the fish, and explain how I got it. He was cool about it and we both had a wonder about cat fishing methods (he was BONE DRY when he gave it to me) but it was SO embarrassing. I think it was worse than if I'd had to apologise for the creature getting eaten.
It's worse because this is the second fish I've returned alive. The first one had been up the tree with the cat for about five minutes before I talked him down (cat not fish, fish had little choice in the matter). I'd no idea fish could live so long out of water!

My cat is a darling, he shares all with me.
Everything that I knit (yes, another girly thing I do, if you knew me IRL, you'd be amazed, most people who do know me, won't belive I'm such a girly girl on the quiet) has ginger and white hairs woven through it.
All my clothes, which are largely black, are covered in the same.
My chair at work, where he has never been, is covered in his hair.
And then he brings his little gifts. If they are ever dead when they reach me, I'm sure it's an accident, he goes to pains to bring home live stuff. I've had 2 different varieties of mice, field and hedge, a water rat (I live by a canal), a few sparrows, big giant nigh-crawler earthworms, a robin red-breast, a half fledged and very pissed off and BIG baby magpie, and for a few months each year in the summer hoards and hoards of frogs.
I've seem him spit out a frog the size of my open palm, when all you could see with his mouth shut was a little row of froggy toes sticking out. Frogs must fold down small.

All of this varied fauna then has to be chased around and caught. Always fun for the mighty hunter, helping his mommy re-capture the prey. Then I have to carry it off to the end of the road and release it over the fence onto the canal bank. If I put it in the garden, he'll just fetch it back again.That was especially fun with the magpie, it fought back, and now the mob of maggies round our way have it in for my cat, they dive bomb him in the street, if he sees one through the window he does this odd noise (he has a collection of odd noises) which sounds like magpie clatter and like he may be swearing at them.

My cat is so fucked up. He can't or won't lap to drink, he does a sucking/slurping thing. The vet says there is nothing at all wrong with his mouth. There's a million other odd, not cat-like things about him.
It makes me think, should I ever be allowed a kid? There are a score of other reasons why I shouldn't, but the way my cat is is very telling about my parental skills I think.

I'll go over how I got him another time. I'm bored right now. I'm fighting the urge to walk to the petrol garage and buy chocolate or crisps. I'm telling my self that the walk there and back will NOT cancel out the fat etc from the snack goods, no matter how much I may want it to.
I did spend a while making this little image thingy here, thanks to Di Gallagher for the link. Looks nothing like me, too willowy, but it was the closest I could get. I've seen them before as avatars on forums I'm part of, just never been in the grip of cravings before and needed such a diversion.

Oh my GOD I'm a cliche!

2005-01-24T20:51:00.000Z

Weeeeell, it's January, I'm a woman, I'm over 25, soooo.....
I'm on a diet!! What a surprise.

It's crap. I'm not as fat as I have been, but not as small as I'd like.
I'm a big burly girly, so even when you can see my ribs and hip-bones (I remember them dimly, only know they're there now 'cause my legs ain't fell off yet!) I'm still no smaller than a UK size 14. Some shops start their "larger ladies" range at size 14 . That's the smallest I get, *sigh*.

I've got two main reasons for wanting to loose the extra weight;

i) It's there mainly because of the ex . I know, I know, can't be all his fault, but when I get upset, I eat. And he made me very upset indeed during last year. Plus the main reason to keep trim (health schmealth) is to attract the opposite sex, which, because of him, I don't really care for anymore.

ii) I'm cheap and I have the BIG DEBT. New clothes cost money and most of mine don't fit me anymore or I'm busting seams in them. Nothing so demoralising as the snap snap of breaking thread as you bend over.

I've picked a diet I've used before and has worked. It's not bad. You can eat tonnes of food if you plan it properly and it doesn't really cut out any food as totally taboo (though pastry and bread are fairly frowned on).
To do it really properly you have to subscribe to find out food values. That is to say, you can buy the recipe books with the basics and recipes to suit, my mother has and they're great and I use them, but the online membership means you can follow what values supermarket mirowave meals have in relation to the diet.
This is a godsend. I love to cook as much as the next person, but it's a giant pain when I'm knackered from being at work all day and just can't be arsed.
I'm broke until my pay goes in during the week, and haven't signed up yet. So at the moment I'm just winging it on the basic rules from the books, a few recipes at weekends, and my own careful judgment.

This means I'm losing NOTHING. I can talk myself into a place where chocolate is a vegetable. Green & Black's Maya Gold is so dark it's very low in fat, so it's not too bed in the diet. But I feel 2 whole bars in one night are a no-no. And snak-a-jaks are OK, but not 3 bags of the caramel ones.

Most of my problems in life, I feel, are down to my own total and utter lack of self control.*

I could exercise of course, to speed up the process and tone the flab, but I'm lazy and I hate it.
I walk where it's safe and the weather's not to crap, which narrows it down a lot in a city in the UK in the winter. I won't join a gym as they're a waste of money.
I did once, I just wanted to go in, do my bit, and leave to be home in time for dinner and bed. But no, everyone else wants to join to socialise, so they monopolise the machines and turn a 20 min workout for me into an hour and a bit in the gym, mostly waiting around. Oh, no no no, not for me thank you.

So it's the diet (slimming world, but this isn't an ad so I won't put in a link) and I'm sure I'll manage to talk of little else til I give it up and start to expand some more.

*apart from all the shit that is, of course, my ex's fault.

2005-01-19T01:23:00.000Z

The film was beautiful, well written and moving. They do keep switching to Japanese from Chinese, which makes no odds really to me, I'm reading sub-titles, it's part of the story and I don't have a full enough grasp of either language to follow what they're saying. But noticing it and being so tragically chuffed that I had I had to nudge my mate and tell her, does mean I'm a bit of a sadass geek.

I didn't fuck up the digital. I do however ache like buggery all over, doing all that shit in the loft was tantamount to exercise for godsake! What was I thinking?
And that adds anything thing to the "gotta get outta here" thing, I can't have a nice long soak in the bath with a book and a cup of tea in this damn house. Not unless I want to suddenly induce a bout of seemingly out of control incontinence in the other 2. The moment I get in the bath, they need to be in and out of the bathroom like they both have severe bladder problems.

I can't wait of my own space.

OK, rant ahead

2005-01-16T15:07:00.000Z

I'm pissed of and covered in crap. It started with a Christmas present and escalated, I've just pulled myself up as I realised I'd ranted my way to it being my ex's fault, which it ain't. I'm just going to type out the rant I'd been chuntering away to myself with.

I got a digi box for Christmas from my boss. I have a great boss, who hears me say regularly, "no I didn't see that" or "oooh, I'd love to see that, I wish I had digital TV."

I don't have Digital TV as, at the moment, I live back at my moms house. I have lived away, finances meant that moving back here was the cheaper easier option. I don't see it as a failure as some folk with parental issues do, I just see it as my mom being cool but the situation being a pain in the arse. My sister lives back here as well, for the same reasons.

I love my mom and my sister, and lord knows that they've put up with some crap from me over the years, but I really can't stand living with them.
Added to this is the fact that when I have lived elsewhere, it's been with a partner. I've never had a "me" place that's my home and just mine that I can do what I like to/ in .
Like get digital TV.

My mother hates the idea of more than the regular, terrestrial channels.
I could understand this when the options were either a dish on the outside of the house or digging up her garden to get cable laid. I did think the dawn of the digi box would be my savior while I'm trapped here by the BIG DEBT, but no. Not allowed to have it on the set in the living room, neither my sister or my mom want it, so I'm out voted.
Fuck knows why, they won't give any reason other than "just because". I wouldn't have had to do any more than plug some shit in. But no, too easy.

So I have to have it in my room.
My room is an OK size. I have made a bit more space by getting a loft bed, but it's still full to bursting. It's hard to keep tidy as I have the amount of stuff/ crap that your average 27 year old would have, but because I'm back here at mom's, there's no room for it all.
Because it's messy and there's not any spare space, I have no TV in my room. My sister has the biggest room and a TV, so if it was just her objecting I could tell her to fuck off there.

I've scavved a TV from friends (our spare set not having a scart socket) and had to buy a spare arial. I know seems a lot, but it would fuck up both signals otherwise, if I were to split the co-axle cable the digi box would show mostly snow. I also had to buy a length of cable and a loft mounting bracket.

I'm covered in crap because I've been up in the loft fitting the new arial and the loft is your typical type full of old junk, dust and spiders. I'm shit at DIY, and because, I am I asked my mother if she'd put the arial in the loft. She said yes, and then didn't. I know she's busy too, but kinda get the impression (she's all but told me) that she objects to the digital TV thing so much, she don't wanna!!
I've no idea why extra channels bring out such luddite qualities in my mom.
So I've done it myself. I know that when she gets home, I'm gonna get crap about how I've done it.
I haven't gone out of my way to at all, but it's a bit of a mess. Not a dangerous or really bad mess, but a little sloppy looking, the kind of thing that sends my mom nuts. The kind of thing that's the reason I asked her if she'd do it, knowing I'm ham fisted and whatever or however I did it it just wouldn't be to her liking.
The only reason I had to do any DIY in the first place is because her and my sister are being so bloody minded.

Then I got in to unreasonable "blame the ex" territory.
I had plans to get my own, solitary, place before him. He persuaded me otherwise.
Once we broke up I started to get my shit together and sort it out again. But, as catalogued in my old blog (maybe still there, lurking in cache, tho I dumped it a while back) he kept me hanging on and assuring me that he had "things in motion" and "it would all work out" so I could spend my money on hotel rooms and other shit for him, debt wouldn't matter, he'd sort it, he'd look after me.
I know, I spent the money, my responsibility, I know and accept this. But it niggles at me to think of the times I spent it on him at his request during all that time that he was lying to me.

So it's his fault I had to go into the loft, with the spiders, up the ladder that has to be set up over the long drop of the stair-well when I'm scared of heights, doing DIY that I'm shit at, in a house that doesn't feel like my home, that I hate living in, and I'm covered in crap.

So there.

Deeep breath, aaaand relaaaaaax.
Getting all that out here has actually made me feel better. I' off to make a cup of tea, set up the digi box, and see if I've fucked up the arial thing at all.

movies and dolls and rambling

2005-01-15T13:11:00.000Z

I'm off to see 2046 on monday. I've not been to the flicks in ages, I used to pour over the magazines and go even when I had no money and no-one to go with.
More and more I'm realising how much of myself I sublimated during my last, disasterous, relationship. How much my confidence got knocked about to the point where I just stay in and do nothing, knit or watch the telly.
I've been putting it down to my age, my lack of funds etc, but I'm just making excuses. The truth is I'm scared and I can't remember how to be out there.

My dear friends are taking me to see this because I've been drooling over the stills I've seen like my cat when I get KFC.

.

Same director as Chunking Express, which I love, which oddly enough, and by a very circuitous route, led me into the world of Blythe.

OK, stick with me on this.

Many moons ago, when I was living in a house with satellite tv and mtv or The Box would be on constantly. I saw the video to Texas' Halo and it pulled at something in my head in that irritating way that you know you know something, but you hve no concrete point of reference to trace it back to, so it just tickles away.

Some time later I saw Chunking Express late night on channel 4. I must have seen it before in a similar late night slot when I was a drunken teen or something, it scratched the itch as the pop video and film clicked as a match. The video is based entirely on the movie.

I've got the video and have tried in vain to do a screen dump or whatever to get a pic up here to show you, but I can't and I've given up in a strop.

Here's Brigitte Lin's charactor in the movie, she's a drug smuggler.

The girl in a wig in a lift is copied in the video

Then, later when my crappy unreliable memory had managed to hide both the film and the video, I picked up a book in Waterstones and flicked through it, it had the odd doll from the sony ad's on the front. The book was This is Blythe by Gina Garan (a VERY nice lady, I've met her) and I was hooked by this picture;

Again there was that faint itch of memory that I just couldn't scratch, but this time it was overwhelmed by some strange desire for this doll. It was another 3 years before I got my first Blythe (which was Celia, who I've posted pics of before) and it took until I saw Chunking Express on tv again for the whole thing to go click click click into place.

It's a nice, satifying feeling when that happens don't you think? Just like when you successfully scratch an itch. And that's how the movie led to my dolly love, all around the houses mind, and why I want to go see this new beautiful looking film by the same director.

You just never know the funny ways things turn out.

wow!

2005-01-12T23:48:00.000Z

About half way down this post, I linked the odds of me getting laid and me getting any sleeping pills.

I now have Temazepam.

I have a tiny shred of hope for a roll in the hay at some point now!

Yaay!

succumbed

2005-01-09T11:54:00.001Z

I often do these little quizzes I find on other peoples blogs and LJ's, but I never wanted to post one until I did this one, it made me laugh for a solid ten minutes.
Fluffy is one word that I really didn't think fitted me though. And I have an egg allergy

You are Fluffy Mackerel Pudding!! You somehow
manage to combine seafood and dessert into your
wonderfully fluffy world. We should all be as
tolerant of New Taste Sensations. And of
big-yolked eggs.

What Weight Watchers recipe card from 1974 are you?
brought to you byQuizilla

My Doll

2005-01-08T13:35:00.000Z

OK, in the spirit of not being embarrassed or hiding my doll hobby (I actually typed habit there then, Freudian), here's a piccy of my girl.

She's the only one left of four, I had to sacrifice the others to the BIG DEBT, which was harder than I'd imagined it to be, but since the BIG DEBT is no-ones fault but mine I couldn't bitch too much.
Her name is Celia.

Part of the enjoyment of owning her is that I can actually do stuff.

I mean, I made that purple dress, I made the westwood-esque coat with the faux fur collar, I made her eyes different colours to the stock, out-of-box ones*, I took the photos which aren't half bad.

OK, so none of that is going to set the world alight, it's not as stunning as the tiny-sewing or photography of many many other people, even within the Blythe community. But it is something cool (debatable I know) that ham-fisted me has achieved.

I've been so down on myself over the last year and a half, because I believed someone and let them make me think I was worthless. It may seem dumb, but this little hunk of costly plastic has helped me to drag myself up. It's one of the things, along with some really true friends, that has stopped me from being one of those pitiful people who wallows in their misfortune and does nothing to try and climb out.

I've put up the link in an earlier post, but in case it fails, here's what a another Blythe collector has said, which sums up in a much less ranty, and much more concise way, the way I feel about some other peoples attitudes to me, a grown woman, owning and playing with, a doll. It's from this here live journal

...I'm starting to feel the pull of this whole insane Blythe phenomenon, and I feel kinda ooky about it. like, i'm 32 years old, what the fock do i wanna play with a doll for? okay, so, let's deconstruct this, shall we? if i were a manperson, and i were into, say, model railroads or airplanes or collecting transformers or even just playing lots and lots of video games, that would be more or less socially acceptable. there's a little stigma maybe, but to my knowledge men are generally not questioned about hobbies involving toys, unless it totally takes over their lives and stuff. women, however, are supposed to pack away any urge to collect or play with dolls or stuffed animals once they hit 18, and if they don't, it's looked upon as some kind of grossly warped and misplaced maternal instinct. like, geez lady, what the hell is wrong with you? have a freekin' kid already! (it happens with pets, too--you know, the whole crazy cat or dog lady stereotype. there's not crazy cat or dog man stereotype.) the primary function of women is to have children, and if they have something else they love or enjoy that involves some kind of caretaking behavior and maybe aren't so interested in reproducing, they're seriously malfunctioning, like a household appliance or something. anyway, so, if a woman plays with guy's toys--if you like robots or japanese monster stuff or whatever--that's totally cool because it's a man thing. but if you like girl stuff, no fucking way. i think this sucks.

and the thing is, i do like robots and japanese monster stuff and little plastic dinosaurs and shit like that. and i haven't been a much of a fan of dolls since i was a little kid (and even then i was more of a stuffed animal kinda gal). but this Blythe thing appeals to me because they're super customizable; it's a huge creative outlet. It's about play--you know, making space for a kind of fun that you just don't have in other areas of your life after you've hit puberty. personally i feel that if we all had something like this, something childish and imaginative we could do in our spare time just for the sheer joy of it, maybe we'd be less interested in blowing things up all the time. i dunno. probably not, but it does seems like a healthier outlet for stress than a lot of other things we do that are not considered weird or maladjusted. anyway.

So, hello, my names Aubergine Dreams, and I'm a Doll freak.

That's not a full confession really, but I've explained before why I don't want to put my real name up here.

*Blythe dolls have a string in the back of their heads, you pull it and their eyes change colour and direction. It's one of her USP's. They have 4 different changes of colour, 2 looking straight ahead, one to the left and one to the right.

Ahhhh, benzodiazepine...

2005-01-07T23:23:00.000Z

I take it all back, my darling doctor gave me Temazepam.
I have slept, I feel great.
I can sleep, so I will feel even betterer soon.

One crazy loser stalker type shaken off, one job going swimmingly, and now finally sleep.

I'm off to SLEEP now, night.

PS, did I mention I can sleep now?
zzz zzz zzz zzz zzz.....

2005-01-03T22:59:00.000Z

Some people are just suckers for hurt. You try and spare their feelings, you just try and let them fade out of your life, and they won't without whining.

I never give people false hope, don't make false promises, yet still some self deluded morons think they know me within the space of a couple of conversations and read waaaay too much into a brief encounter.

I speak my mind and voice my opinions, but don't think it's nice to say "I don't like you because of X Y Z" when you know that their fragile (if monumental) ego won't take it.
It's also not something I want to do when that person seems creepily thick headed and persistent, and my doing so may just lead to slagging off and more attempts at contact.

Yes this is a specific person and one who may read this. One I met online and in real life, regretfully.

I did think I wanted to maybe be mates with them, then I spent time talking to them and reading what they write.
I decided that, for many reasons, I didn't like them.
I didn't lead them on, but they obviously wanted there to be more there than there was, or thought there was more to something than there was.
I've read his blog, he seems to be the kind of guy you dread meeting. Insecure to the point where they become creepy and clingy, reading more into things than is actually there because he's pathetic and needy. Then turning bitchy when patience wears thin and he's told to piss off, saying he was tricked or led on, when he really wasn't.

I just stopped responding to attempts at contact, thinking that that was better than listing the reasons I wanted him to leave me be, as the reasons are personality traits of his that I despise. He just kept on calling and mailing, too thick headed and self deluded to get the hint

I was still trying to be polite, so in the end, I didn't even say piss off, I just said that I didn't want to stay in touch.

But apparently this makes me a "faker" (or fakir, depends how well he's spell checking that day I think, unless he thinks that's correct usage for the word, his grasp of using vocabulary in it's correct context is weak at best, but I digress...) despite not giving him any grounds for what he seems to have thought was a blooming friendship.

I could list all the reasons I came to dislike him, why I lack the respect for him I need to have to be a friend to someone. I did write a draft of this that did just that, but I still think it would be unkind as he might read this.
It's tempting, to knock some sense and reality into the man, but not my style to be out and out cruel.
Like I said in my initial post, this is a toxic dump to keep the nasties away from the folk they might hurt. I just wrote this as I'm a bit annoyed at being called a fake (the one thing I am NOT) when it was down to someone reading too much into a situation for whatever reason of their own, then not taking the hint that they should just go away.

I'm not into "power games", to be honest I wouldn't know where to start, I've always just spoken my mind while trying to stay polite, and left alone the people I don't want in my life. Why would anyone drag the arse out of contact with someone they dislike? Not worth the aggro, too much effort to waste, like I've said before, I'm lazy.

I just met someone, realised I didn't like them, and walked away.

I will, however, say that he's a pathetic, creepy little dole scrounger, who's blog I've carried on reading for chuckles over his poor use of language and his own conviction that he's some kind of tortured intellectual. Hilarious.

OK, a bit mean, but what the hell, true.

2005-01-02T03:04:00.000Z

I can't work out which time zone I should be set at, I'm a computer, and just general, retard. It's 3am here, my previous post says it went up at 1:49, which it didn't, it went up just now. Hmmm.

Cruisin the web and found a young lady with a LJ who's someting interesting to say about my hobby, dolls, or a doll to be exact. Blythe, look it up and don't condescend. Any hoo, this here girly has a good point about why I shouldn't feel ashamed to have this hobby.
I do sometimes, in company, I feel dorky, more so than usual.

I'm adding to my list of this year, Not being ashamed of my doll hobby.

so there

Obligatory new year post

2005-01-02T01:49:00.000Z

Cruising through Blogland, it's evident that for a lot of folk, 2004 was shitty.
Not just globally, with nature and world governments (well, mostly america's) stepping in to add spades of misery, but a lot of people seem to have really been through the mill.

I could read up on politics and horrible, heart wrenching disasters, then regurgitate the facts in over-worded style, to try and seem clever and avoid having to form an opinion that's my own.
But that's been done to death by a few bloggers I've read, with only a few gems of real, thoughtful, intelligent opinion amongst them.
So, I; having neither such thoughtful intelligence, nor a desire for people to think i have despite my lacking, shall cut right to the me me me.

I have had a really mixed bag of a year. Really really.

I have lost/dropped like a hot stone, two friends who I'd thought really highly of, because I found I'd been really wrong about them.
One was a slow death, them growing older yet clinging to the "I'm a widdiw girly and my cute ways mean I can be a bitch and it's ok" identity which I'd really had enough of. I'm a self absorbed cow myself, but she was a master at the art, all take and no give, a shallow little leech.
The other was a horrible painful thing, made so partly by my allowing myself to be fooled by lies i could see. A person I'd thought was really my soul mate, turn up for the books was he hadn't got one.
A soul I mean.
Asshole.

I'm still stuck living back "at home".
I have quite big debts. All my own fault and still below the average for a person my age, but still a burden none the less.
I've lost my one and only super-power. I had the ability to put on a glamour/fuck-you/fuck me/invincible facade, go out anywhere, alone or with mates, drink and pull, drink and drink and drink and fall over, have casual sex (safely children!) on my terms and have fun. All gone now.
Partly because of the ex, and the hurt and shittiness that went with that, and partly because i put on a tonne of weight in a short time and don't feel glam or want anyone to see me naked.

The only people I slept with in 2004 were
i) My ex, under fasle pretences which ended up making me feel cheap and used in a way all the years of one night stands never could.
ii) A drunken 4 way (yes, I know, tacky) which was ok but I was the only one there with no emotional issues about the whole thing so ended up going to sleep while the others variously rowed and freaked out.
iii) A bloke, for the wrong reasons (depiration, drunken-ness) and who was a definate mistake.
That was in October.

The good stuff about the year was great, but I couldn't fully appreciate it because of the big cloud that was my ex was hanging there. It was one of those big toxic clouds where they put out radio announcments for you to stay indoors and shut all the windows too.

I walked out on a job I was unhappy in and got a new one which is easliy the best job I've ever had with a fantastic boss.

I had a dream holiday. I went to see things I wanted to in America before they effecively closed the borders to us, their "special friends". I visited Graceland, saw Mardi Gras, and re-visited NYC, the last visit being prior to 9/11. It was great and fun and I did it all myself, by myself.

I became closer to my girl friends, realised which ones were true and valued them all the more for it. We went places together, provided shoulders, talked and talked.

A very mixed year.

This year, I will move to my own place, just me, no sharing. Even in the unlikely event of a serious relationship, I need to live alone in my own space.
I would like a serious relationship. I've never had one thats lasted a full 12 months before, and only 2 which have even approached that long (unless you count the one that's officially the most fucked up interaction between two people on record, barely qualifying as a relationship, and I don't) which is looking more and more crap as I approach the dreaded thirty.
I want to get back out there.
I want to learn a language.
I want to sleep more.
I want my job to fulfill it's huge potential.
I want to beat my obsessively aquisitional compulsions (but I do want to collect more of the thing i collect, they are expensive so that may shoot me in the foot)
I want world peace and happiness and all sorts of ridiculous things, but for the first January 1st in a very very long time, I don't want to be dead.

This may not last, but I'm taking it as a good thing while it does.
I'm also looking over my shoulder as I type, fate a cruel mistress, sod's law being as it is; in case a tree falls on me or there's some other pythonesque punchline to my being happy at new year.

Maybe it's a manic survivor thing. I'm just happy that it's not me or mine dead, dying or just washed away and lost on the other side of the world. Maybe it's seeing men and women weeping because their own children were snatched from their hands by a wall of water that makes me feel I'm not too badly off. Even if I've been upset, felt torn apart inside by grief, it's really fuck all compared to what can happen.

Ramble ramble ramble, happy new year.

Still can't sleep

2004-12-28T01:24:00.000Z

Having once again browsed around blog-land, it seems the common problem for most is that they think they are insomniac, they like the dramatic sound of the word and bandy it about liberally.

If you have bugger all of use to do with your days, and so sleep until noon then cat-nap throughout the day when the mood takes you; you probably won't sleep well at night.
This isn't because you're an insomniac, it's because you've fucked up your sleeping patterns.

An insomniac, like me, cannot sleep at night, cannot sleep in the morning, and cannot just nap at will throughout the day. Admittedly, I work for a living, I have to get up in the morning and cannot (without getting sacked) nap in the daytime. Being off work for Christmas has, however, reminded me that I can't even when I could, if you see what I mean.

On principal, I don't shift my big fat arse out of bed 'til after 1pm if I can help it when I'm off work, I am a lazy cow afterall. But I spend this time as I spend most of the night once I've gone to bed; reading, writing, reading some more, doing "private lady things" if the others are out and I won't get heard/disturbed, reading, and cursing the fact that I'm not asleep.

I have tried most things.

I've tried no caffine, this was not fun. I tried it for over a month to let the sleeplessness caused by withdrawal pass. Still didn't sleep, and felt shitty through lack of tea and chocolate.

I've tried exercise, also not a bundle of laughs. May not have given this a very fair crack of the whip, but I am lazy and somewhat unfit. I just ended up feeling tired and knackered and still not able to sleep.

I've tried taking over the counter sleep aids for 2 weeks to establish a regular sleep pattern, as it says in the wee leaflet in the box. Did make me sleep while taking them, but not after I stopped. The pleasant sensation of sleeping also prompted me to start taking them every night, until I needed to take 3 of the one-a-nite jobs to overcome the resistance I'd built up, and was buying them from different chemists each time so they'd still sell them to me.
This was not good and I stopped after realising it was so passe to be hooked on non-prescription drugs, and it was getting harder and harder to get up for work.

I had prescription sleepers for a while, which was heaven and did work. My doctor stopped giving me those as I was "an overdose risk" and possibly becoming dependent. Bastard. Given the resistance build up, as mentioned before, he may have had a point though.
I did for a while have various prescription sleepers which didn't necessarily have my name on the label. I stopped when I realised the supply was unreliable, intermittent, dangerous and it was more than so passe to be hooked on downers.

I've found out over the years that the "sleep" that is, in reality, passing out, that comes with gallons of booze is worse than not sleeping at all in the tiredness stakes. Not really ground breaking news, but I think most people will agree that its a long lesson to learn at the time.

I do, generally, sleep well after sex.
The chances of this at the moment are about as high as me getting anything from my doctor that ends in -azapam again, so I'm not holding my breath.

So when folk whine on about being insomniac, but then talk about sleeping til noon and taking naps now and then, I could scream.

It's still early for me yet, and I feel that it's going to be another long night. I'm in a bad patch right now where I'm seeing things in the corner of my field of vision and the whole world looks crisp and clear, somehow squarer and more defined than usual. It's good in a way because it means a crash is immanent and my body will just shut down and I'll finally get some sleep in the near future. I'll watch a DVD then off to bed so as not to drive up heating and leccy bills.

Sorry to bang on, I'm not trying to do the "I'm more fucked up than you" thing that a lot of people my age do. I'm not going to turn my blog into a self harm diary (I don't anyway) and diarise every detail of my spectacular poor-me torment here, like so many do, just had to get this off my chest rather than leave spikey and spiteful comments about it on other peoples blogs when they do it.

Must. Fight. Sad. Goth. Within. Can't. Hold. Out. Much. Longer... Aagghh!

2004-12-07T01:52:00.000Z

Her skin is white cloth,

And she's all sewn apart

And she has many colored pins

Sticking out of her heart.
She has a beautiful set

Of hypno-disk eyes,

The ones that she uses

To hypnotize guys.
She has many different zombies

Who are deeply in her trance.

She even has a zombie

Who was originally from France.
But she knows she has curse on her

A curse she cannot win.

For if someone gets

Too close to her,
The pins stick farther in.

Voodoo Girl, Tim Burton

Email sent, message may yet get through

2004-12-02T01:10:00.000Z

You have had over a year to "get over it", I've had a few months because I didn't know where I stood until July of this year.
I'm angry for good reason. I lost a 5 year, deep running friendship, because for the last year of it, I was lied to at every turn.
I tried to move on during that year, but each time I was stopped by anger and false promises, or ridicule at me finding someone else; all from you.
I tried to move on in the last few months, but you would send a text, letter or email each time I started to pick myself up, despite my telling you that I needed you out of my life because you hurt me so much.
You may claim this has scarred you, but for me it is a fresh wound and one that you have kept picking at, at every turn, so I haven't had time or opportunity to move on properly, it has not had time to form a scar yet.

I did learn from that relationship too, I learned I was right all along. I knew for years that a proper relationship, kids, all that was beyond my reach because of the way I am, and I could deal with it then. You went out of your way to convince me otherwise, to make me think i could trust people.
Then you went out of your way to decieve me about the nature and future of our relationship for a whole year.
I don't know how you thought it would all end up, and I don't want to hear your lame excuses, you cannot have thought for a moment that I wouldn't have been completely upset when it all came out, and you had to have known it had to come out in the end, so you made concious decisions to take actions that you knew would hurt me.

I have spoken to my real friends, the people who love me. I know that anger is a real and acceptable emotion, as is hate. It is real and natural given good reason.
I have good reason, fresh reason, I'm not "holding on to" this, it's still fresh and real for me. You may have spent the last year and a half settling into happiness, I've spent it holding on, at your request and because of your assurances, to a future that you knew full well couldn't happen, despite making me belive it would.
I've spent only a few months trying to move on, and unlike you, I've spent them alone, with no immediate move to another partner to support me.

You may not tell people about this, you say because it's private, but it's because you don't want it getting back to your poor woman. I may not have a relationship, but yours is built on a fragile foundation. For the whole first year you were lying to her and cheating on her, if she found this out how happy would you be then? How hopeful your future together? I shall tell all and sundry about what happened between us, and with any luck it will get back to her.
I'm glad you belive in karma, and I can't wait until you get yours.

I don't wish you well for the future. I hate you, it's natural and well founded for me to hate you, not sick or irrational. Stay away from me, unlike you I have not had the time yet to move on. I am trying to "get over it" and can only do it with time and with you well out of my life.

That sounds rational and balanced doesn't it?
I'll just sit back now. Hopefully there'll be no response this time, the message will sink in. I may just get another hissy-fit-I-must-have-the-last-word-and-make-it-hurtful outburst though.

2004-11-30T01:37:00.000Z

I can't sleep.

Having browsed around, this seems a common blogger problem.
Y'all know what hell this is.

I have to be in work and functioning in 6 1/2 hours time, which means getting up in 5 hours.
I have to go to bed, it costs money to stay up and heat the room and keep on lights and the computer, and that's before the irrational comfort shopping online, the sort that got me into enough debt that the other things I mentioned matter a lot.
I've already managed 2 comic books and a couple of $20ish balls of silk knitting yarn.I feel confident, the pound is strong against the dollar right now, I know my card number off by heart, so it's no use hiding it, or cutting it up.
I need my sleep. My skin is hell already from coming off the pill (am going back on asap, my boobs are shrinking too) and sleep will help.
Healthy eating and exercise would help too, but even right now in insomniac hell, sleep sounds the easier option.

Fresh

2004-11-28T18:38:00.000Z

I had a blog that got found by people from my life and soured.
I had it as an outlet for all the crap that I had to rant on about and exorsise from my self, but that I knew might hurt or just plain bore to death any of my friends.
It was a toxic dump that someone who had been close to me decided to hunt out, dig up and spread about the place.

At first all the bile got pushed right out there where I hadn't wanted it to be, then because I was so upset, all the fresh bile poured out after it, directed at, and addressed to the people who'd hurt and betrayed me.

I realised I was missing my blog. I need to dig another hole here in which to bury my mental trash. So I have.

I've thought a lot about why I feel the need to do this. I could, after all, take up the journal writing I had as a teenager. But that takes more time, it takes up space in the physical world and this does not. No-one find this and be sure it is me, pages can't be torn out and pinned up, or if they are, they're not in my handwriting, no-one can be sure it's mine.
I spend a lot of my free time on my computer these days, so it seems natural to do it on here, I conduct so much of my life on-line.

Does it make me an exhibitionist? Maybe. This time my blog is totally, rather than mostly, annonymous, so hopefully all the searching in the world won't uncover it.

I know that this is a public place, but it's not one where people know me. I just want it to be read, now and then, and commented on, or not, or whatever.
Basically, it's cathartic for me.

I was told my last blog was "self rightious". I've re-read it and think that, self pitying, yes, self rightious, how? This was said by malicious persons, not very bright and forever misusing their limited vocab (I can't spell for shit but at least I don't write using words I don't fully understand in an effort to sound more intelligent than I am).
A single user blog will always be one sided, but I'm the first to admit my failures and short comings.

So this may be a vanity piece, it may be my soapbox, but I don't care, I need it.
I'll be more careful with it this time, more protective. If you don't like me or what I say, either tell me or just bugger off and don't read it. Up to you.