August 2007 Archives

Just out of a bath. I was hoping to lift my spirits, so used the Sugar Rush ballistic I got when I was in London. All was ok until I got some water up my nose. It's worn off now, pretty much, but I had the same smell in my nose about 1am today. I think I'm kind of off that particular ballistic. It doesn't help that Rainbow Drops go really strange when they're wet, kinda slimy. I can't believe it's still so early. It feels about 8pm or so, at least. I wish it was. The less I sleep, the more I want to. The less I eat, the less I'm able to. 2 veggie burger things and I was nearly sick. It was too much. And at this rate, Cloud Atlas should last me 'til the New Year. A book that length usually takes me a week. If I'm going slow.

Can someone please tell me, what did I do to deserve this? The sense of pain and loss is getting to be more than I can handle and it seems to be getting worse, not better. The most annoying bit is that I can't seem to let go completely. Chris offered to hit his head or something, anything to make him see what a fool he is. I did point out that I'd rather he came to that conclusion himself and concussion isn't likely to do that. Ben's almost disappointed as I am, which is really fucking weird. Of course, he's doing great, living the life he wants, or something quite close, and has a someone he'll probably get together with in due course. Maybe I'm just meant to be alone and miserable. I guess someone has to be. I wonder if I can sue Disney? Damn them and their happy endings.

Worth a look. It's quite amusing.

Nearly threw up again. Had to peel a dead slug off the back of Zillionz. A flattened dead slug. There's a stain on the cover of a similar book, but it has a textured cover so I'm not sure how I'll ever get it off. It gave me the heebies even more than the mahooosive brown spider that scuttled out of my cardigan when I went to hang it out the other day. I'm quite surprised by myself; if I made any sounds they were beyond my range of hearing and I didn't run away. And this thing was huge.

But before my flesh crawls right off my bones, happy thoughts... Happy thoughts... I must have some somewhere. Hmm. I'll have to come back to that one, it seems.

So I met Chris and we went to a few pubs. Drink was taken, and mixed. I don't know how big a part of my pain today was caused by not being able to eat, but I'm guessing that forcing down two oatcakes wasn't enough. I got home and went more or less straight to bed (after removing my lenses and shoes) and woke about midnight, feeling like death. In the bathroom, I thought I might turn inside out as I was retching so hard. Bile still tastes disgusting. My head hurt, which I can understand, but my sinuses? It's passed now, but I felt like my nose had been flattened. I had to check that it hadn't. Twice. (My proboscis is still a protuberance)

I'm going to go and drink some tea and pray for something. I'm not sure what. The swift passing of a hangover. A swift and positive response to a letter I sent. Something to change.


*until the next time.

I had the first bath I've had in months. (Insert obligatory joke, then we'll continue.) I'm surprised at the buoyancy of parts of my body, and still wish for a bigger bath as cold knees when I want to dunk my head just isn't fun.

Now that I've eaten some of the Cookie Dough ice cream, I wish I hadn't. I feel ill.

Now I'm off to read another paragraph of the Cloud Atlas 6 times and watch the night crawl past.

I joined the free share group on FaceBook. Like freecycling, but a different name, basically. Almost immediately, I've found a person who can take my old phone. I'll meet her tomorrow and do the hand over then. I'm meeting Chris anyway. We're not even going to try to have lunch this time (I never seem to eat much, rendering it pointless, and I'm reasonably sure I won't want to eat tomorrow) so we're going to get pished instead. He's having relationship woes, and if you care to peruse the recent content of this here blog, I've got plenty to cry into a pint about too.

Go, me. No, really, go.

When I woke up, I thought it was going to be a bad day. Not because I felt down; I'd had a couple of unsettling dreams. One involved being in a car and on a road that suddenly ended then turned into a sheer drop, the other some kind of sci-fi mechanical apocalypse. You know, the machines are taking over the world, all humans (except for a small bunch of daring individuals who are trying to escape to the wilds of Alaska) are forced into service. The bits that really stick in my mind now I'm awake are the colour of the rocks at the bottom of the cliff and saying goodbye to my Dad, hoping that he'd be ok but knowing he probably wouldn't be and I'd never see him again. Thinking about it now still isn't very nice.

Anyway. I've been accepted for the introductory training session with Rape Crisis! The 1979 remixes CD arrived! I didn't have any of the ice cream last night, so maybe I'll have some later! But I still have no appetite! Someone shoot me, please!

Wouldn't it be ironic if I got the job that I want, of the two I interviewed for today? Working for a company that specialises in childrenswear, with no intention to ever have children. I just can't see it. And I've tried to, just like I've tried to see me being married. Not going to happen. I intend to lead a very selfish life. Anyway. Compared with the last time I interviewed, today was far more successful. I missed no trains, in fact I arrived everywhere on time. More or less. I was actually asked what I thought commercial awareness was in the first interview, which made me laugh (inwardly, there's no need to frighten a potential employer) and at my second interview, she kept saying "Brilliant" in response to my answers. I hope that's a good sign. In addition to this, I only had one minor wobble on those damned shoes and didn't hurt my back. If I made a fool of myself in Glasgow city centre again, well it must just be me.

Other good things include:

Witching Hour arrived today, the version of Destroy Everything You Touch I downloaded is slightly different, the intro's longer on the album. I've ripped the CD but didn't have time to transfer it to the Walkman before I left the house earlier.

I went to Sainsbury's on the way home, as I needed more milk. You'd think I drink my body weight in coffee or something. (Speaking of which, must put another pot on...) While there, I found that they currently have 1/3 off Ben & Jerry's. It would have been discourteous not to buy some. No, not 3 tubs (though I guess I would've effectively got the third free, thinking about it) but Cookie Dough and Vanilla Toffee Crunch. And there's some promotion on Green & Black's too. I'm not sure what, I was already flashing forward to the sugar frenzy.

Not so good things include:

I'm still waiting on 2 other CDs to arrive. Get here already, dammit!

Turns out that, in addition to not being able to sleep or eat much, I can't read either. Strictly speaking, I can still read, but whenever I try, my attention wanders. As Ben says, I have it bad for this guy. Should he decide that he does want to take a risk, he'd better choose to do so soon because I'm not sure I can actually survive in this manner for too long.

I'm in the unusual position of having my ex (Ben) encouraging me to fight for what I want with BIL. Never saw that one coming.

It's meat day. Not across the whole land, or even in the locality. Just where I am. I think it's an iron deficiency thing. I feel just a bit sick and disgusted with myself, unfortunately. Doesn't matter which way you cut it, I guess I'm vegetarian. Should've got spinach. Or maybe I should take iron suppliments. Next month.

Somehow, I've managed to arrange two interviews for tomorrow afternoon. One's in East Kilbride, the other's in Glasgow. I'd better not miss any trains this time, there's not much room for error. And after nearly flinging myself in front of moving vehicles last time, I'm taking flat shoes. I wear them in between. Why not just wear the flat shoes? The skirt I'm planning to wear hits just below the knee, I'd look dumpy. Chuh, what are you, male??

Speaking of that skirt, I'd better get it dried and iron for tomorrow.

Well, the Moon Cup is sterilized. I realised that I really had to because I used the last tampon in the bathroom earlier. I have hundreds more, but I'm not too sure where. This is why I have so many; I keep losing them in the 3 weeks inbetween.

I now have two favourite YouTube clips; the JarJar Binks one and the video for Paper Bag. I could watch both of then repeatedly for hours. Fiona's dress is gorgeous. I'll be bothering Mum about dress making when she gets home. For what reason would I want a 30's style satin gown? Haven't a clue. Maybe when I finally move out, I'll throw cocktail soireés, just so I can wear it with my hair in a bun and smoky eye makeup. I still have the cigarette holder somewhere (in a box, in the garage). I might be on to something there... It might also require a chaise...

Something did sort of happen today, though I don't know what to make of it. I texted Ben, for no other reason than it's been a while, I was wondering how he was doing. Despite everything that's happened, I feel no animosity. He replied and we had a conversation. I ended up telling him a bit about what happened with BIL. I thought he was with someone else from what he'd said already, but I might have got the wrong stick on that one. He did say that he never worried about me in the way I think BIL did. Does. I don't know. Though he did, kindly, point out that giving me advice on my love life (such as it is) on the day after we would have gotten married was "a headfuck". I find it to be more of a *headdesk*. If we had stayed together, there wouldn't have been any wedding yesterday. Mostly for the same reasons that we split up. I told him that, to which he said that he knows, but can't forget. Um, try? I evidently managed.

In other news... Rilo Kiley. Not so bad. Maybe the hype surrounding them just now isn't entirly unwarrented. Sia, also good. I've had Get Him Back by Fiona Apple in my head most of today. It strikes me as somewhat appropriate.

If the floaty pen says so, it must be true. I can look forward to more time being a burden on the tax payer, then.

Hmmm.. I'm updating FrostWire with LimeWire. Mostly because FrostWire wouldn't shut up about it and if it keeps it happy... It'd better not turn it into LimeWire. If I'd wanted that, I'd've installed LimeWire. The novelty of a program doing what it wants to, not what I want it to!

So, I'm up and dressed and I even straightened my hair, for no other reason than I was getting tired of looking in the mirror in the bathroom and getting a nasty start. I like to remind it who's master occasionally. Though it's getting it's own back already; my fringe (which I'm growing out again) is at the right length to block vision in one or both eyes, depending on how it falls. Don't make me crack open the product, hair! I'm warning you!

I have some domestic chores to do but I had two cups of the coffee I made last night and I feel quite sleepy now. Even with Suite-Pee by System Of A Down blasting out at me.

I now seem to have LimeWire and FrostWire now. Buggeration.

• Shower after first coffee (soon after getting up)
  
• Get dressed (street clothes and the full compliment of underwear)


• Sterilize Moon Cup


• Find coffee maker


• Put away clean laundry


• Phone Hannah - you have to speak to a real, live person


• Eat something more substantial that toast


• Hoover and put on the dishwasher


• Laundry


• Dance like no-one's watching

Ok, so I didn't properly get up until about 2pm or so, but I had a nice long shower, dried off and even applied some Silky Underwear dusting powder. I even filed my heels a bit. I'm sitting here in a black top that has a red glittery thunderbolt (lightning bolt?) on it and jeans, I even put on my slippers. Normally I'll be barefoot all day, I can rarely feel my feet because they're so cold all the time. This isn't a problem until I'm in bed trying to get to sleep, then it drives me to distraction. There are ways to warm my toes, but Mum was quite disgusted when she caught me using the toaster that way a while back. Anyway. The list.

I didn't sterilize the Moon Cup, forgot all about it. But then, I have so many tampons, I'm as well to use them up.

I was going to go and look for my coffee maker, but while I was getting the key to the garage I noticed Mum's which is bigger and, more importantly, not in a box in the garage.

I put away about 2/3 of the clean laundry. When I picked up two black tops and a smallish brown spider scuttled to the top of the pile I freaked and ran away. I'll poke it with a stick tomorrow (laundry, not spider) and put the rest away once I'm sure there's no more surprises like that.

Spoke to Hannah. Neither of us have done much, though she has twisted her ankle. Brandon sounded like a squeaky toy being stood on for the first 10 minutes of the call. Then he cried some and Hannah had to go to him.

In addition to the fish fingers earlier, I had vegetable quiche too. I feel uncomfortably full now.

Forgot to hoover, and it'd be silly to run the dishwasher for 2 plates, 3 mugs, 2 knives and a fork.

The towels are washed, they just need put out to dry.

My back hurts a bit today. I sang like I was tone deaf though, which I think is at least equivalent.

Does Hello Kitty look a bit like she's got a squinty eye? And a touch more Mexican wrestler than superhero? No? It'll just be me then. As usual.

I've found something to fill the time 'til I can get WoW sorted out. Hello Kitty's Sunny day. The music and bird song is a little incongruous with Loveline though...

Yes, I've eaten today. Fish fingers. Why do you ask?

---

Gotta love a song with "Ooo-eee-ooo" in the lyrics.

Last night I couldn't sleep. I listened to the Walkman 'til about 3am or so, hoping that might help (it didn't) and when I gave up and took the earphones out, I heard someone start a car. I didn't check the time, maybe it was more like 5am? Anyway. It's these tablets, it's the only thing that could be keeping me awake, given that BIL thinks a relationship would be doomed. I preferred it when I couldn't sleep because of him. At least I had something to look forward to.


Another Pib and Pog. And I'm watching the Robot Chicken skit with Jar Jar Binks about 6 times a day and still finding it as funny as the first time.


And I don't know where this came from, but a proverb, of sorts.

I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a woman who had no feet. Then we cried for each other; her because I knew what I had lost and me because she would never know the joy of shoes.

Yeah, a pile of bollocks, but that's what my brain does to occupy itself at 3am when it's obstinately refusing to shutdown.

Turns out the way to minimise the nausea after taking 100mg Sertraline is to not eat anything for at least 20 hours beforehand, take immediately after 2 slices of toast and peanut butter and avoid eating for at least 8 hours after. If I ever manage to remember to take it every single day, I might have found the way to get rid of the wobbly bits and be happy! That ice cream is still sitting in the freezer untouched. Co-Op black forest gateau and after dinner mint flavours, if you're even slightly curious.

The replacement copy of Zillionz arrived today. It's been a while since I last looked at it, mostly becuase my copy vanished into the ether some time in the last while. I forgot how resonant parts of it are. The basic idea is that you have your day force (add the numbers of your birth day together 'til you get a single figure or 11, or 22) and your birth force (add the nubers of your date of birth together, including the two from the year most folks don't bother with) and they describe who you are on a day to day basis, and the underlying personality. To look at it like that, it seems preposterous, but everyone who's ever read their section of my book has always been stunned by what it says.

My day number is 7. This means, amongst other things, that I have a perfectionist streak, and I rarely live up to my own too-high standards. I apparently think about things carefully (I'd have just said 'too much') and I can reason through anything. Which is true, I suppose, I'm always trying to understand how things happen and why. I love my solitude, and am not good in a crowd. This is about 90% true. If I'm in the right mood, I can jazz hands solo in front of a crowd with the best of them. But yes, if I don't get time alone, I get very grumpy and irritable. Also, I'm apparently not one to pick up and drop relationships with people. Good gods, I sound like hard work already...
I'm "almost certainly a wonderful cook". When I can be bothered, I suppose. Otherwise, my cheese on toast is exquiste. I "love music, but ... specialise." A lot of comparing and contrasting. Like the 2 Shame videos, I guess, but moreso? I have a good nose, which is true, but I've never thought much about it. Handy, should I ever live somewhere with a gas supply. "Cleanliness is extremely important" too. Yeah, the only acceptable dirty is the sex kind. Though you might not think that at first glance of my living space. I do prefer everything to be tidy and put away properly, just the effort involved is too much for me.
Because my birthday is the 16th, as opposed to the 7th or the 25th, that also means other things too. Yet more perfectionism. It's a wonder I can get out of bed every day, knowing I'm setting myself up to fail. (says she, still in the t-shirt she slept in last night) I should follow my hunches and gut instinct, as I'm "quite psychic". "16 is a number which often involves difficult experiences". It's handy that I have a book to tell me that, I must say. If I don't keep myself in check, I'm my own worst enemy.

And that's just the day to day stuff.

Underneath it all, I've learnt "quickly to grow up; your life experiences bring you to a relatively early state of maturity regarding the human condition [...] how to touch the deepest secrets in other people, and how to plumb the depths of any given circumstances. This provides you with uncanny judgement and an instinct for fair dealing. (is this why I know all kinds of secrets about people?) [...] You have these binary oppositions inherent in your nature and are the wisest soul in your overview of the serious circumstances of others' lives, always feeling equally both sides in any arguement. Where others see only an entrenched position, your gift as an 8 is to see the possibility of balance (and apparently, to be seriously frustrated by others' inability to see things from any pont of view other than their own. Seriously, empathy. Is it that hard? Anyway, on to my favourite bit...) [...] Mental strain is part of your diet. So, too, the frustrating periods when you have to prove yourself in adverse circumstances. But don't worry, you are equipped for this: be bold, dive into the deepest water knowing you can be self-reliant and will not drown. You will be asked to pick up the pieces of others' dreams and meld them, supervise them, into a cohesive whole. (I'm not much liking these "others'"... I help them with their problems, I treat them fairly, I put their shattered dreams back together... Who helps me? When I find a dream, and it gets broken, will I even have the hands spare to pick my pieces, let alone any spare sellotape? And will someone please see things from my point of view, without me leading them by the nose from A to B to C? No, I'm not thinking of any of any particular Ben at this time, just general random Bens. Cunt. Sorry, I hate that word too.) [...] You feel strongly about things and develop a noble spirit towards others. (seems that it's that or ulcers) ... there is no free ride for an 8."

One other thing that caught my eye, and forced some bitter laughter, regarding someone with a birth number of 9 in relationships; "... sometimes your 9 lover seems determined that your relationship cannot last, because he or she has suffered so many previous heartbreaks."

I really have no words today, just music. So, over to Billy and any others who can say it better than I ever could.

Blank Page - Smashing Pumpkins
Falling - Julee Cruise
Hurt - Nine Inch Nails (or Johnny Cash, I'm not fussy)
I'm Not Working - Manic Street Preachers
Perfect - Smashing Pumpkins
In My Body - Smashing Pumpkins
Only In Dreams - Weezer
In The Arms Of Sleep - Smashing Pumpkins
Paper Bag - Fiona Apple
Winter In My Heart - VAST
Daphne Descends - Smashing Pumpkins
On And On - Longpigs
Pennies - Smashing Pumpkins
Roads - Portishead

So I was a bit tired earlier, and decided to go to bed about 10.30 or so. I didn't even manage more than about a page of one of the books I got in the charity shop today, before deciding to put the light out. Logically, it must've been the through-the-wall neighbours, but the noise! I was convinced there was someone in the kitchen. Then it sounded like someone was messing with the garage door. Actually, I'll check that tomorrow. Most of my belongings are still in there. I want to get the coffee maker anyway. The cafetiere is all well and good, but it does kind of force you to drink the equivalent of 8 cups of coffee in about half an hour. I might well need that tomorrow, but under normal circumstances, it's a touch excessive.

I don't know what was worse; thinking that someone was in the house not knowing I'm here, or someone being in the house, knowing that I'm here. Didn't help that, when I did go down to the kitchen, cider bottle in hand, I glanced out the window and it's a bit misty out. Get Jack The Ripper on speed-dial, why not?

Someone, somewhere, is really really pissed with me. I'd even go so far as to say that someone hates me. Or in my last life I was Ted Bundy or someone equally evil.

Oh, the ironies. I bought ice cream. And I bought cider. (no, not White Lightning, I have some class) Guess which there's none left of. I'm going to have a headache shortly.

I'm very sleepy. And hooked on FaceBook apparently.

I think I'll go lie down with a book and possilby wake at 3am.

Still feeling like shit. I want so badly for my deam to mean something, but I think all it really means is that I want BIL to change his mind. He won't. It hurts. I sleep. The pain stops.

Like a sneeze from a bloody nose, my period has started. I'll give you a moment to fully paint that picture...

Hannah sent me a couple of pictures of her son, Brandon, last night. He is edibly adorable. Walking and talking too. Children are astounding. Though it confirms my suspicions. I don't want any of my own. It's not that I hate children, evidently. I just have no maternal urges. Anyway, I'm not that sure I'd be a very good mother. I killed a hamster with neglect, the authorities take a dim view of doing that to children, and rightly so, of course. In addition to that, any child I had would, at best, be on medication for life, and in therapy for years. At worst, they'd be suicidal by the age of 9. Oh, how I wish I was being facetious.

And, seeing as I'm on a riff about what I do and don't want in the future, I really don't want to get married either. The very idea makes me slightly nauseous. It's a dependancy thing. Ideally, I'd find someone who was happy to live separately from me. Sure, he can stay over a few nights and keep some stuff at my place, but it would be my place. If I want to paint it purple and cover one wall in glitter, then that's what I'd do. And I'd get that Hello Kitty phone. And have millions of fairy lights. That's what I will do, eventually. But there will only ever be one name on the door, the one I was born with at that. Unless I change it by deed poll, but that's pretty unlikely. Like the words go in Turn My Way; 'I don't want to be like other people are'.

Anyway. That ice cream is stubbornly staying in the freezer cabinet in the Co-Op *has a picture of the tubs growing legs and en masse jumping out their cabinets and making the epic journey (it would be epic if you were that size and that melty, too) to me... my pretties....* And I need milk. I can't be bothered going all the way to East Kilbride, it's bad enough that I've got to walk a mile or so to the Co-Op. Then back again. With the cramps. My life sucks, doesn't it?

I dreamt that I was in this utter dive of a pub. The carpet was so dirty it was kind of shiny and black and hard, that way that chewing gum goes when it's not sticky anymore because all the sticky's been taken by dirt off shoes. Some old guy was urinating in the corner. Gotta love my subconsious attention to detail. I was with some people I knew, though most of them don't exist in reality, so far as I can remember. A few of them do though, and BIL was one of them. I was sitting on a bar stool, remarkably similar to the ones they had in the Balcony (which doesn't have a carpet, or people pissing in the corners) when BIL lifted me and sort of threw me on to the bar. As I lay there, he gave me the best dream kiss I've ever had..... (talk amongst yourselves, normal service will resume shortly, there is not a problem with your reception) ..... and when he was finally done, he turned to the others and said "We're together." That might not be the exact words, but that was the gist. My mind was still reeling from the kiss. Real or not, it was really something. In the dream, as in life; never one to let a moment of comedy go, I stayed on the bar and waved my arms about a bit, going "Help! I'm stuck!" Really divey pub, remember? After that, the dream did continue for a bit. Sometimes, I really really don't want to wake up.

If I get it together enough today, I'm going to go purchase ice cream. An ice cream delivery service (no, not an ice cream van) would be good. (Ok, something like an ice cream van, but more like the delivery service that the supermarkets do, but only ice cream) I think I want Cookie Dough, but the Co-Op only has their own brand, Mackie's or Haagen-Daz. If I turn out to have a fierce craving for it, I'll have to get the bus to East Kilbride and go to Sainsbury's. Which, in my current state, doesn't seem like such an irrational thing to do. My period is being somewhat impatient and reality bites. I got all morose to Falling by Julee Cruise last night. And it takes a supreme effort to hear all those lyrics clearly. Still, at least it wasn't the Cocteau Twins.

Maybe I will go to EK... If I buy a couple of tubs, that means I don't have to get dressed or leave the house for, like, a week. Which is very appealing.

The post entitled Fugly Betty.

When I have too much caffeine (it is possible, though I usually fall asleep quite soon after), I have conversations like that too. Sometimes out loud.

"ME: I'm just saying.

I: Girls, please. Can we just discuss this without it turning into some self-loathing internal catfight?

ME: I guess.

MYSELF: Um, YES! That's what I've been saying.

ME: I guess so. BUT I'M NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT."

Where can I find ideas for new music to download? Yes, I've recently been grousing that I haven't listened to some (read as 'quite a lot') of the stuff I have on the Walkman, but I will eventually listen to it and I need more! MORE!! MORE!!! They are the only words I know, being in the sky when I'm on the floor.

I think my eyes are going wonky, the text now looks like it's all different sizes.

Dur, I downloaded Last.fm's audio scrobbler the other day, and put a thingie into my blog for it... Maybe I should try that for new music?

I eventually made coffee earlier, but was a bit too hungry to really enjoy it, double (triple?) boiled water and all. Time to try again, I think.

This is irritating. I've forgotten what I wanted to write about.

Modest Mouse, though. Which rock was I under all this time? They're good. I've all this stuff that I've downloaded but never managed to listen to because SonicStage and my Walkman are usually set to shuffle randomly. Which they sometimes think about, but play 8 Björk remixes then the same Bowling for Soup song twice. Ok, I'm overstating it slightly. It doesn't play the same song twice in a row. Usually there's a couple of Björk remixes inbetween. The thing I wish it would do, other than not crash when I decide to wipe the Walkman and transfer everything again (4300 songs and the associated playlists are apparently too much for this one machine, if I transfer all the artists beginning with A, then B, then C and then D in smaller groups, then it can manage the rest as one. Though I want to know in what kind of maths 250 is 46% of 3027... Those crazy Sony programmers!) is play the tracks with no plays mixed with some of the ones that are 4 or 5 star rated. So, basically, new stuff mixed with the stuff I like enough to change the rating on.

And what the hell is happening to my boobs? Let's just say, should I fly soon and the pilot has to ditch over water, I'm set. And these babies won't explode, either.

Still got nothing. Today's songs:

Broken Heart - Spiritualized
Cherry - Smashing Pumpkins
You Look So Fine - Garbage (Fun Lovin' Criminals version for choice)
Winter In My Heart - VAST
Wide Open Space - Mansun
Into The Void - Nine Inch Nails
Maps - The Yeah Yeah Yeahs
I Of The Mourning - Smashing Pumpkins
Thrown Away - VAST
On And On - Longpigs
Eau d'Bedroom Dancing - Le Tigre
The End Of The World - Nina Gordon

I put the kettle on to make coffee about an hour and a half ago. I seem to have forgotten it.

I have nothing new to add just now. Just a list of songs for general consideration.

Winter In My Heart - VAST
Breathe Me - Sia
In My Body - Smashing Pumpkins
Pictures of You - The Cure
Java Jive - The Puppini Sisters
Paper Bag - Fiona Apple
Blank Page - Smashing Pumpkins
Mein Hertz Brent - Rammstein
Ugly - Smashing Pumpkins

Spot the odd one out.

Hint: why try to find the words when someone else already has and set them to music?

I was falling in love. Again. I didn't want to be.

The physical pain of organ failure would be nothing compared to this. And it would have been over far quicker.

Everything I touch is turning to shit.

I've wrecked what could have been a good relationship, we don't even want to start on the job interviews, and now I can't even get a simple thing like a graphics card right.

And it's nobody's fault but my own.

I just can't keep taking this and going on. It's too much.

My stars today made me laugh. Usually they're of no relevance to my situation, but today... They're still not eaxctly right, but close enough, I think.

"Your thinking may be challenged by an outside source who is just as stubborn as you are, Feebs. It could be a battle of facts versus emotions, and more than likely, you are the one
who has the facts on her side. You are able to see the details and intricacies of the situation that others might not see right away. You have a great deal of wisdom to share with everybody."

Well, that water doesn't carry itself, right?

I'm being pushed away by someone who I care about a lot. It hurts a bit, and if I let it, it would probably hurt more than if I didn't. I've always operated on a policy of minimising the 'if only...s'. At no point in my life do I want to look back and think 'If only I'd tried harder....' or something similar. Staying with Iain for 2 years after he grabbed me by the throat wasn't the best idea, and there were a lot of other factors involved, but there was an element of me being stubborn in there too. If he'd actually taken responsibilty for his actions, it could have been quite different, though I'm glad I'm not with him anymore. I should have left Ben when I first thought about it and not let my guilt at him moving up change have any influence on my choices. I should have been a better friend to Steve, I knew he wasn't happy. And now I'll never hear him say "Hiya, pal" again, except for the faint echo in my head. The list of things I could have done differently goes on and on. The whole self harm and suicide attempts... the things that did to my parents, I can't begin to imagine. Kind of off the subject, but I cut myself for the first time in about a year on Sunday. The reason I stopped? It doesn't work anymore. It doesn't stop or change how I feel anymore. The only difference is that I look like I had a minor tussle with a large cat. I wish I hadn't done that now, to be honest. Partly because it'll take a few days to heal and partly because it upset someone else, who it had nothing to do with.

I don't want this to be another 'if only', it's bad enough that it was for years before.

In the way I didn't want to. I don't know if I can undo it either.

I have a numb eyelid and a no from the interview I went to last week. Didn't demonstrate enough commercial awareness, but other than that, I was fine.

Really, though, what's wrong with me?

I dreamt that I deleted all my characters in Warcraft and tried to reroll them. For some reason, I couldn't make the keyboard work when I was typing Czarina and it wanted me to have a wooden dwarf. It makes little to no sense to me, either. Though I wonder how Kem's doing...

I was in the kitchen, to make a cup of tea. I was doing that because I felt so cold. It's odd, I don't remember feeling cold like that even in winter. While making the tea, I had this odd... sensation. Like crying, really crying, the kind that makes your face go red and runny and is usually accompanied by not being able to breathe through your nose and it feels like you might sob your guts out because it's coming from somewhere down there. Just for a moment, and I had to lean against the units so I didn't fall over. I couldn't be more dry-eyed if I rubbed silica gel into them.

Anyway, it seems that that has broken the downward spiral. It's like sailing through the heaviest seas imaginable, then it stops. I'm not complaining; feeling like that is so awful I'd do just about anything to make it stop. It's just so sudden, is all.

I'm not in any need of a trigger now, but should I ever require one, this site would likely do the trick.

I'm starting to see the appeal of hard drugs. It's something to while away the time between things. According to Michael Alig, on heroin you can be fascinated by a table for hours. Until my parents come back, all I have to look forward to is the dentist tomorrow morning and a job interview on Thursday. Oh, and my period. When I get back home on Thursday, I think I'll get into my pyjamas and only surface for ablutions and coffee.

A stasis unit would be equally useful, and it has the added advantage of not requiring syringes.

Today's blog-title-that-reduces-the-distance-between-my-eyebrow-and-my-hairline-that-little-bit-more: I Eat Snowman Poop

A while back, I had a big huge teenage crush on Seth Green. What can I say? I really like boys who are cute and funny and geeky. Ok, so I wasn't strictly a teenager, but I have always run a little late when it comes to these things. It's not so bad, I have very youthful skin. So anyway. There is a point to my 'Seth Green... *gush*' bit, honest. About the same time that I created this blog, I had this crazy notion that I would ask random people what their desert island discs were, and blog the responses. And about music in general. Hence the name; it's all very well having 8 records on a desert island but if you don't have the means to play them, you might as well have a fun* game of frisbee with the records and be done with it. Or use them as plates, or possibly digging tools, or a stylishly avant-garde hat. Anyway. Because this teenage crush was at it's apex/nadir at about the same time, the first person to be asked was Seth Green, via a feature of his fan-run-but-official website. I'd pretty much forgotten all about it, and found it far easier to navel-gaze online instead, sometimes about music... oh, ok, the Smashing Pumpkins... but mostly about everyone's favourite subject; Me! (by which I mean that everyone's favourite subject is themselves, who they refer to as 'me'. I don't mean that I, personally, am everyone's favourite... oh, forget it, you get it, right? Actually, if you've managed this far, maybe I am your favourite subject and I should be glad that I've since moved cities.)
So, I was faffing about online earlier, trying to remember what websites I used to look at before my most recent move, when I remembered this particular website and went to have a look. Just to be clear, I never sank so low as to join the forum. I look once and was utterly terrified. The bulk of it struck me as the digital equivalent of Biro graffiti on erasers and Tipp-ex on ringbinders, or green ink scrawled on toilet paper. And I digress again.
Anyway. The last question in the Ask Seth section, posted on August 6th 2007. If you haven't worked out the link between that and the above, go put yourself out of your misery now, there's no hope for you so do your bit for the future of humanity, ok? Actually, don't do it yourself. Come find me, I'll do it for you.

Hint #1: I don't live in Dundee anymore, so don't bother looking there.

*Fun only for as long as you have records shaped like boomerangs and they don't all just fly off into the briny depths.

The Pumpkins are playing in Glasgow on Wednesday, at the Carling Academy. How come I literally just found out about it? Unsurprisingly, it's sold out, according to the the Pumpkins' website.

FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK!!!

Making coffee that's too strong, even for me, might not be the way to go if I want to catch up on my sleep. Give me another half hour or so and I'll be hallucinating or something, because I'll be asleep in my head but awake because of the caffeine zinging round my bloodstream.

My parents aren't even on the plane yet, and already I'm conversing with myself. The house is far too quiet when I'm here alone. I'll be getting sectioned when they get home...

My attention span's now so fucked that I actually woke up in the middle of a dream because I was bored of it. And I swear the local crows know when I'm awake and wanting to sleep. To think, I was a little concerned that I might not be awake when Mum and Dad left for the airport. Part of my brain must not have caught up yet; I was going to be seeing my boy today but something's come up and now I haven't a clue when I'll see him next. See? I'm already having a wonderful day.

I whiled away another half hour or so looking at Letting Web. There are some nice looking flats for rent in the Greater Glasgow area. And, all things considered, it looks like you get a nicer standard of accomodation here than in Dundee. Or, at least, a flat that's more photogenic. And I think the council tax works out to less. All I need now is to find the job to pay for it all, and I'm set.

Since dinner, I've been feeling a bit odd, due to the tablet. It's not the nicest sensation but it is better than the time I took it before bed and then felt so ill I couldn't sleep. And, more's the pity, I'll be sleeping just fine tonight.

The trick to taking 100mg of Sertraline and not suffering intense gastro-intestinal upsets; take tablet while eating a meal. Not after food, but with. I may yet end up spending a while in the bathroom and requiring a match, but it hasn't happened yet, so that's a distinct improvement.

The discomfort in my abdomen just now is hopefully from stuffing myself silly with pasta at dinner.

No crisp related injuries. Just Blogger refusing to play nice. Nothing else worth mentioning.

Some days, nothing goes to plan. Today wasn't quite one of those days, but enough went awry to have me worried. Dad fell up some steps after I'd been to sign on, my left ankle kept wobbling under me in my interview shoes, I missed the train I was planning to get so I missed meeting my boy and had to rush to my interview. I think it went ok. I really have no idea. I'm half expecting to get a call next week to say that they aren't going any further with me, the next person interviewed had more relevant experience blah blah blah, because that's happened so often already this year. Anyway. My Rape Crisis application is in the mail and I have a fresh copy of Spin to read. The August copy. Not the July one I was anticpating, with free CD of Pumpkins' tribute covers that I've been patiently waiting for since May. All I can say is that it figures.



But the Converse I won on eBay arrived.

Typical. I write about a day where most things have gone a bit wrong, and Blogger has an error.

I'm going to go eat crisps. Assuming I don't choke on them or lacerate my tongue or something, I'll try rewriting the post later.

It has occurred to me that all I do online is read blogs. My own, when I'm feeling vain or have forgotten what I did yesterday; Go Fug Yourself; Dancing Brave and Ultratart (the Fuggers' blogs); Perez Hilton; Cute Overload and Shiny Shiny to name the usual suspects. And it's not even particularly high brow stuff. Gossip, badly dressed people, girlie tech and cute cute animals. And other people's lives. On the other hand, I did discover, courtesy of Wikipedia, that a girl I went to school with, who's adopted dad resigned from a very public position earlier today, briefly dated John Leslie. Like, ew. For about 13 different reasons.

The same Wikipedia article also mentioned a couple of the nicknames for the now-resigned public figure, but not the one I was reliably informed he had at university; Jizz *********. I can't begin to fathom why.

In other news... Mum seems to have sorted my back a bit by pulling me off the bed (you had to be there); I've finally worked out how to use the hose section of the Dyson without it falling apart in my hands; I've sorted my outfit for tomorrow, even ironing a skirt that will probably wrinkle as soon as I think about sitting down, and getting a gay opinion on hosiery; I posted payment for a pair of shiny new Converse I won on eBay (double tongues! Oh, the sartorial mess I'll be in!) and finally finished my application for Rape Crisis. It has to be in by Friday, so it'll be in the post tomorrow. It's funny, virtually every day for the past week there's been something in the news concerning rape. The survey by the Scottish Executive, the man in Edinburgh who got 12 years for years of sexual abuse of two girls, Amnesty falling out with the Catholic church over abortion for rape victims, something on the radio earlier about a man on tape being arrested for an attack about 11 years ago. Annoyingly, I missed that. I'm still not very sure why I feel so strongly about the whole issue. In my mind, I haven't ever been raped. Strictly speaking, though, I have. Iain once decided he really wanted sex. I said no. Iain ignored me or something, because he had sex. I was also there. I'm more angry about the other things he did and said though. ("Fucking storyteller") I'm more angry about my first boyfriend who seemed to think that if I wasn't ready to touch him before dinner, I would be afterwards. And that does mean in an intimate manner. Such a good Christian boy, too.

Anyway. That's all dim and distant memories now. Tell you one thing though, I will make Iain eat his words one day, when I get my writing done. The story I have in my head just now doesn't involve anything to do with him, it was inspired by more recent events. There is another though, just beginning to coalesce, that's based on that part of the past. He really shouldn't have put such ideas into my head...

On the blogger home page, there's a feature that shows you which blogs have just been updated. Some titles are interesting enough that I've clicked on them in the past, some have made me wonder. The Blog of JesusRaptureMe.com though... I'd reckon that's in a class of it's own. The web address alone would be enough to send shivers down my spine (and not in the nice way that runs the risk of my mind wandering back 3 days) but that someone's made a blog as a companion site adds a certain something to it. I'd look at the site, or indeed the blog, if I wasn't so sure that it'd result in me making a sacrifice to Our Dark Lord, in the interests of equality.


Turns out that, if you have a job interview to attend, you can turn up to sign on whenever you like. Before, after, they don't mind. They're open from 9am, and expecting me at my leisure.


Not only is my back still killing me, I have a sore bit in my throat. It's not one of the usual lumpy bits. I might have to actually go register with the local GP. I was hoping to leave that until I realised I had 2 days of Pills and tablets left, thereby running the gauntlet of trying to get an appointment before a week Monday. Foiled again.

My back is killing me. Lying face down on the floor is about the only place where it doesn't hurt, but it's not the most practical place for doing stuff.

Jen texted me last night, for the first time in months. I hope to see her on Messenger before too long, it'd be difficult to explain what been happening by SMS. Anyway. She's back on the happy pills and still at the pet shop. And unaffected by the Legionnaire's outbreak, thankfully.

Where to begin... I have an interview in a couple of days for a job that I really, really want. I'd be good at it too. And I'm not just saying that for effect.

Of the 8 copies of Amerika by Rammstein that I downloaded, 7 were awful quality but the 8th it really good. I've deleted the others. Now I need to figure out how to delete the 7 shit ones off the Walkman without ballsing up somehow.

My new dentist is quite nice. I think he gets a lot of nervous patients, he kept asking me about myself. He's good at injecting; I didn't feel the needle at all. Or my feet, but I've noticed that before. Must be something about the chair.

I slept really well last night, for about 12 hours. That's not to say I didn't wake up during the night, but I don't feel tired today which makes a nice change.

Yesterday was a very, very nice day. I can't seem to think about it and not drift off into a reverie. Oh well...

I had so many duplicates tracks on the Walkman that I thought I'd wipe it and transfer everything from scratch. It's so fiddly to delete anything off it through SonicStage that I really thought it would be simpler. Which it is. Easier, it is not. An hour and a half ago, I checked on it's progress; 51%. Fine, the USB2 card is hiding somewhere else, so it's going to be slower. I checked it again about half an hour ago; 46%. Thought it was a mite odd, but figured that it was still going so it'd get there eventually. On checking again 10 minutes ago, I found that the system had recovered from a serious error. As it's still having a fit to itself, I'm none the wiser as to whether I've lost that which did transfer or not.

Having checked there, it's all gone. This is like the CONNECT debaclé all over again. But this time I'm not staying up for 18 hours to make it work. Can't make me.

At this.

Film4 showed Star Trek: Nemesis this evening. Having nothing better to do, I watched it. It's longer than I remember, and the plot is more cohesive than I had previously recalled. And Jim Robinson from Neighbours is in it, even if he dies in the opening sequence. Once again, Deanna is mentally "violated". Once again, Picard treats her like she's knocked her elbow (right in the funny bone) or something. The line goes something like "If you can withstand a few more of these attacks, I need you at your post." In other words; "You've been mentally raped [there's absolutely no doubt that it was a sexual assault; we were being treated to the mental images of Riker and Troi doing the nasty with a sheet over her breasts immediately prior to the attack] and there's a very good chance you'll be subjected to similar attacks in the near future. You don't mind, do you? There's a good Commander."

I think I need to go find Rick Berman and slap him silly* too now, do excuse me.

*both for endorsing ridiculous attitudes towards rape and for Enterprise. I shall require a bag of frozen peas for afterwards.

Damn checkbox in the Internet Options menu... Anyway, we're up and running with the broadband. It's so speedy! I nearly cried with happiness when I didn't have to wait for what was probably-really-only-45-seconds-but-felt-like-90 to open my email.

I'm so pleased that I'm back online properly, that I was going to post the video for Tarantula, the Pumpkin's most recent single. Thought I'd watch it first, though, see what I've been missing.

Oh... dear.

It's somewhere between the Ming Tea excerpts that pepper the first Austin Powers film (and less in the later ones because they were just... well, not that great) and the video for Cherub Rock, except this time, Billy hasn't any hair and isn't playing a guitar for most of it. But is wearing an odd cape affair. With a touch of the Honestly (Zwan) video thrown in.

Don't get me wrong, I still really like the song, even more now that I know what all the words are, but the video... meh. I dread to think of what the rejected treatments were like.

I just caught the Scottish headlines today, having missed them earlier today. This was the lead story and I think I may have blown something in my head. The thing that gets me everytime I read about a survey like this (Amnesty carried one out in 2005 that had similar results) is that, in the sample population, they're asking women about their attitudes on the subject. Have these women never had a drink? Have they never worn clothes that are a bit revealing? Have these women never flirted with a man? If they were raped, while in their cups or while wearing a top that shows off a little cleavage, or after making eye contact and smiling at a man and doing anything even slightly flirtatious, would they just say "Oh, it was my fault, shouldn't have done this, that or the other"? Well, yes, they probably would because I understand that to be a fairly typical response to being assaulted. If a female relative of theirs was assaulted, would they look at her clothes and think, "Wearing that what do you expect?" I'd hope not, that they would in actual fact display a shred of humanity, and try to provide emotional support, especially if the victim of such a crime decided to report it to the police and pursue her justice in the courts.
And there's 5% of the population I just want to shake until they get that they're really, really wrong.
At least, though, the majority of Scots understand that 100% of the blame lies with the perpetrator and that the Scottish Executive is actually going to try to do something about the rather pitiful conviction rate of 4%.

I think it's safe to say that I really need to get that application form finished and posted, it's that or I find this 5% and slap them silly.

---------------

*breathes out*

In other news, I think I'm going to become veggie again. I don't eat a whole lot of meat anyway, partly because I was veggie when I learnt to cook so have never really been able to, without the ever-present risk of illness. Before I was entirely distracted by the Scottish news headlines, I was watching the national news. A farmer in the area of the foot and mouth outbreak had his herd culled earlier today and was understandably upset about it. He wasn't present at the cull, but was certain that it had been quick and as humane as possible. Jump cut to a farmer loading his cows on to a truck to go to an abattoir, as thanks be, they're open again. I guess I find that, for cattle to be killed humanely, they have to be infected as opposed to say, dinner, to be a bit more than I can stomach. Forgive the pun.

And my boy looks nice in a suit.

Since Blogger changed things so you can search by interests and used the Pumpkins as an example (which I mentioned the other day [yesterday?]), they have gotten themselves (the Pumpkins, not necessarily Blogger) another 600 fans. In the space of about 24 hours. Ok, it's more likely that 600 people have just thought 'Shit, I've never filled in my profile, maybe I'll do that now', but it's great to see such a wonderful band garnering all the more attention after the recent release of their first album in 7 years. Official album, anyway. That's not the Greatest Hits. At this rate, Pumpkins-mania will have taken over the world in..... counts on fingers... then on toes.... 1640 years. Assuming that the population never increases significantly in that time. And the world doesn't end in famine, war or a destrucive collision with a meteor. Or a supernova that's extremely ahead of schedule.

Or.... perhaps not.

So... yeah. Tuesday's are rarely good for me, it would seem. Other days ending in 'day' are varied, but Tuesday's should be seen out under a handy duvet, possibly with a liberal application of Jack Daniel's. For medicinal purposes, of course.

I feel restless now.

I'm one of 12,400 Bloggers who like the Pumpkins enough to list them in their favourite music section; one of 87 Ladies of Leisure; one of 4 who like Dawn of the Replicants. And the only girl who does. And that will admit to it.

Other things I'll admit to include:

• thinking about cutting again. Ain't it grand that just thinking about it can have virtually the same effect as doing it used to? With none of the mess or long sleeves or loaded silences when someone sees something and realises what it means.
• questioning my worth. I don't much like myself. It has always, and likely will always confound me that people seem to like me or care about me in any way.
• thinking too much about things. Specific things at that, but I don't think I want to admit them to myself yet, let alone anyone who may randomly stumble on to my blog because they clicked on the link relating to the Smashing Pumpkins that I did about 10 minutes ago.

Anyway. To continue with the specialness theme, I've got to go stuff a blue crayon up my nose while eating the purple one. Mmmm.... waxy.

Broadband isn't working. No, actually, it is, we just haven't worked out how to make the computer connect with it. I'd've phoned the tech support hours ago, but Dad's having none of it, as paying for something you can't use is clearly better than paying for a phone call that might speed you towards using the service.

Other than that; my back still hurts quite badly and I have a dental appointment on Monday. Tomorrow, Mum will challenge me for being in a bad mood when she got home today (ok, so I wasn't really asleep, but she doesn't know that) and taking it out on her, in the usual maternal logic that sidesteps logic altogether.

And I've applied for the same job at least 4 times now, I'm quite certain of it. They might even add 2 and 2 and invite me in for an interview. I'm not holding my breath.

A bit has broken off a filling at the back of my mouth. Well, I think it's a bit of filling, that I can still eat and drink without agony seems to confirm that it's not tooth. The odd thing was that it wasn't the super-sticky Wham bar that yanked it out, even though I was convinced it was going to do something to my fillings, but a crunchy museli bar. With cherry flavour yogurt on it. I'll be phoning my dentist tomorrow, then. It's pointy. And I can't seem to stop poking at it with my tongue. I look like I'm in a record shop.

This evening I went to an information session for Rape Crisis. I have an application form to fill out, so they can assess my suitability as a volunteer, which I will make a start on shortly. I've been reading the literature that they publish, the first time I can remember seeing figures relating to Scotland. Any time I've read things relating to reporting and conviction rates, it's been England and Wales. Off the top of my head, I think they have a conviction rate of about 6% there. In Scotland, it's 4%, if we're being generous. That's 4 out of every 100 cases that make it to the courts. That's the ones that are deemed to have sufficient evidence to possibly get a conviction. That's out of the cases that are reported to the police. To say that there's something very wrong with this set up might be a slight understatement.

And all this while I look like I can't remember if I have Everything Must Go by the Manics or not. Which it turns out, I don't.

Who'd've thunk that under the bridge outside Central station, by the river could be so nice? Especially when it was raining so hard?

I think I'll go and smile at the wardrobe now...

This boy will be the death of me. I've been awake for the better part of the past hour and the thought of eating isn't too successful. Still, at least I'll leave a slender, if a little shadowed-under-the-eyes corpse.

After a good night's sleep, I awoke this morning to the sound of my Mum moaning about me in another room. Quite the thing to set you up for the day, and no mistake. Even more than yesterday, I want to move out. Somewhere with thicker walls, that's all I really need right now. Ok, and a ceiling. And a bath. Within walking distance of public transport. At least half an hour away from my parents. I'm not fussy. Really just somewhere where I don't get told to tidy my bedroom about once a week.

Anyway, I have plans to spend most of tomorrow out the house and away, so hopefully that'll stay the executions for a little while longer.

Two of my favourite books are missing. I've been through every box in the garage, they're not there. I contacted Ben, to ask him where they were and got a whiny text message in reply. I replied that I wasn't interested in that, I just wanted my books. To which he got nasty and requested me to 'fuck off and leave him alone'. He's very lucky that I didn't go to the shithole where he lives and tear him a new one because I was this close to doing so. He was on about how he bought newspapers to wrap things up in when he was packing my things (no, I've no idea why I wasn't allowed to do that myself) which beggars 2 questions. What has that got to do with missing books; and if he was so painstaking about wrapping up my fragile belongings, why were my ornaments slung in a box and rattling around? Why was my glitter lamp unwrapped? (OK, a few more than 2 questions) Why did 2 bottles of perfume get half-empty? Why, why, why did he pack things that were clearly rubbish and should've gone in the bin? Empty coffee jars? Really, the more pertinent question is why did I spend 3 years of my life, now irretrievable, on him? I'm going to go scream into a pillow, it might help calm me down...

Anyway. Not much else has happened today, just some laundry and reading. And finding things I wasn't looking for in the garage.

The shower was great. I got this salt scrub earlier today and had a whirl with it and found out that the backs of my legs still haven't quite healed from the chemical burns that the Veet left me with. I had previously been under the impression that Aloe Vera was soothing and gentle, which it no doubt is, but when mixed with the noxious chemicals that burn your hair... less so. Anyway, once the stinging passed, I felt all lovely and smooth and clean and after a liberal application of various cocoa butter-based products, very soft and smooth. Just what I like from a shower, solo or shared.

The leak in the kitchen ceiling, though, I could've done without, especially since I stuck my finger through it by accident.

Subsequently, I had a conversation about songs about masturbation and I now have I Touch Myself by The Divinyls in my head. I danced to that at my cousin's wedding with my Mum and Aunt a couple of years back. Let's not delve any further into that one, it could set me back years. Now that I've finally remembered to actually take my Pill, I think I may now go to bed and see a certain someone above me...

It's amazing what half an hour of Ross Noble in the dark can do for one's mental state. It almost takes my mind off the pain in my abdomen as my period finally shows itself. I'm going to go and have a long, hot shower then wait for some time to pass before availing myself of the telephone.



*It's how 'teddy bear' sounds in a New Zealand accent, apparently.