The disconcerting reality.

It's funny how when you're young, life just seems so simple & you truly live on a day-to-day basis.  There's no worrying about the future, or living up to your potential.  It's just eating cereal & looking forward to bike rides.  At what point did all the other bullshit start to creep in & take over & dilute the happiness?

I can blame my misery & uncertainty in life on many different factors.  I can rake over the past, until, there is nothing there.  But I know my own mistakes.  The issue is, I don't seem to be learning from them.

If your one ambition in life is to be happy, how do you work out exactly how to achieve this.  Because, as basic a need as it sounds, it is seemingly harder to obtain.  I mean, I finally left a job I despised, I'm living in glorious Sicily, I have endless supplies of gelato, I should be happy, right?  But I'm not.

How can you truly be happy, if in fact, you don't know what it is that makes you happy.  As to whether I have spent too much time over-thinking my emotions & questioning over & over again, what I should be doing with my life, I feel I may have reached a point where all my thoughts have lost meaning.  Like when you repeat a word thirty times & suddenly the word seems alien to you.

My life has, in itself, lost all meaning.  I have no direction.  I have coasted through the best part of six years & now, I am merely coasting my way around Italy.  Aimlessly adrift.

To further prove my point; I met a very handsomely rugged Italian man, here on my carob farm.  I was instantly attracted to him & thankful that he spoke English.  (Sicilians do not do English.  French, oui.  Spanish, sí.  English, no!)  We spent a week working together, just the two of us.  He was funny & intelligent enough to bring out my insecurities about not attending school.

Finally, things came to a head on the eve of his birthday.  As it happened to fall on the same day as the Ferragosto, the farm held a party, complete with this ridiculous ten course feast & a huge bonfire.  The two of us stayed in each others company all night, got drunk on red wine & then he kissed me under the stars.  Yes, it was clichéd & romantic.

The next day, he made it clear that we should keep our dalliance to ourselves, as he didn't want D, the farm's owner, to deem it inappropriate or question our motives, working together.  In essence, I understood his perspective, in reality, I felt used.  Things were probably not made simpler by our consummating the 'relationship' in his tent that evening.

For the following few days I was thrown into an emotional chasm, only I know how to get myself into.  Here I had a man, a fully grown, intelligent, bearded, potential to wear skinny jeans, although does not, man, who I liked, I really really liked, who I could not publicly display my affection for.  Out in the carob field, or alone in the kitchen, it was all hugs & kisses, but then over the dinner table it was awkwardly trying to avoid eye contact, so no one would suspect.  This was not healthy for me.

It reached breaking point when his friend came to visit & it was so unclear who knew what & how I should act.  Was I just a secret?  I broke.  I threw down my tools, stormed off to another field & broke down & cried.  I felt lost.  Not just with this ridiculously complex affair I had found myself entangled in, but with life in general.

When it came to him leaving to continue his travels, I was further embarrassed by my inability to keep a dry eye.  He looked me in the eye & told me, with all sincerity, that it had meant something.  But had it, really?  When I told him I would miss him, he did not reciprocate the sentiment.  Off he rode on his vespa & never looked back.

I'm twenty six years old & I don't know how to have fun.  How to embrace something & let it go.  I read into everything.  I get too emotionally attached.  I always want more than what's on offer, but then should more become available, I don't want it! 

Perhaps Italy will purge me of my insecurities & force me to embrace life, with all the shittiness included.  Like therapy, but with a tan thrown in.

x

We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.

Things need to change.  I can see that I have been stuck in a rut of my own creation lately & I don't like it.  It scares me.  I'm scared that I won't find happiness or contentment & I don't wish to find either of these things from outside sources.  They need to come directly from me.

Gandhi said, you need to be the change you wish to see in the world.  I feel I understand this now more than ever.  I need to change.  I see in my mind all the things I wish to do & to be.  It's as if I have become so used to seeing them in my mind, that I forget to actually manifest them in true form!

All these picture perfect moments, these rose tinted lives, they're not just someone's Instagram account, or posts on a blog.  They're real moments.  Ones that we can create simply by doing instead of talking.  We are constantly speaking of our dreams, speaking of these perfect scenarios that we do nothing to create.

There was this moment, this perfect moment, several years ago (six to be exact), when I stopped dreaming, when I stopped speaking & went out & just DID!  I did all those things I dreamt about & I truly lived & enjoyed my life & in that moment I was fearless!

Somewhere along the line I gave that part of me away.  I let go of that freedom & I returned to my dreams, where I felt safe, because they were safe & untouchable & unbreakable.  But now I am ready to break out again, because if I don't, if I remain in my dream world, I will simply lose myself to it & forever remain broken in reality.  I will otherwise never be content.  I will never truly be happy & most of all, I won't ever truly be living.

x

Now you're on your own, won't you come back home

I think the thing about London, is that it's one of those places which is great to visit & spend quality time in on a sporadic basis.  But when you're there all day, every day, working long draining hours on very little pay, it's not quite as much fun.

Plus when it comes to finding somewhere to live, well, you become acutely aware how little bang you get for your buck.  I may over the years have learnt to lower my standards, but crack dens I cannot do.

London is also an incredibly isolating place.  You power walk everywhere, whether you're in a rush to get anywhere, or not.  Nobody looks each other in the eye.  Nobody smiles.  I haven't smiled for weeks.  Anyone that walks remotely slower than you, you want to push over.  The staff in all the shops are so incredibly rude too!

Of course there have been some good times; the chocolate festival at the Southbank Centre, Winter Wonderland, Margaritas at The Connaught Hotel & more.  Although, this was all short lived once I got ill.  Firstly flu, which I was just getting over when I then got food poisoning from a trip to Byron.  Three weeks later & I'm not yet recovered.

It's been a somewhat miserable December, to say the least.  The new year however, has made me realise that life is far too short to spend being unhappy.  So I've handed in my notice & as of February will be heading back to the coast & once there I will be saving all my pennies for the next adventure; traveling round Italy!

So here's to the good parts of a winter spent in London.

Another walk about, after dark.

I always like to make out that I'm a bit of a bitch, with a frosty cold heart & to a certain degree this is the truth.  However, I think the real cold bitter bitch side of me got broken & defeated by The Ex many years ago & since then, I've just been making a replica to try & bring back a part of me, which I'm terribly afraid is dead.

I feel rather naked & vulnerable being the nice version of me.  It's not used to daylight you see.  Years of bitter resentment towards my parents & a childhood I often felt robbed of, lead to volatile behaviour & aggressive outbursts.  I didn't really know how to love & was never fully accepting of someone else's.

But since those broken & shattered years, I have loved & completely opened up to give myself to someone.  Unfortunately, that relationship came to an end.  But that's how things are meant to be.  I truly don't believe in forevers.

The issue now is, I tried being the open hearted nice side of myself with The Boy & he kind of walked all over me, like I was a piece of rattan.  It hurt.  A lot.  That kick in the teeth sent me running back into my shell & saw me sticking needles all over it.

Now I've finally met someone new & all I want to do is pick up a Kinder Egg whenever I see them in the store, because I know he likes them & I always think I'll save them for when I see him next.  In fact, I once spent an afternoon googling Kinder Advent Calendars, just because I knew it would make him smile.

Just in that one little act, I suddenly realise how vulnerable I am.  It's so easy for me to be nice & do nice things for the people I care about.  For friends it's the easiest thing in the world.  For him, or for any man shape, it's the hardest.  Because I feel humiliated every time I do something nice & I think to myself 'he wouldn't do something cute like that for me'.

I don't want to live my life constantly guarded, in case someone turns out to be a right bastard after all.  But what actually is the right balance between being yourself, allowing your natural caring instincts to come out & being sensible enough not to get too emotionally attached & protect yourself against the obvious pain that comes with liking someone, who essentially may or may not ever like you back to the degree that you need.

I'm naked, I'm numb, I'm stupid, I'm dumb

So remember when I said I was rubbish at dating...

Well, Saturday evening started to make me think differently.  I went out for dinner with New Kid (that's right folks, there's a whole new manshape on the scene) & I felt it went really well.  Starting to really like this kid.  He's always been a gent, never tried anything.  Maybe to the point I wasn't sure if he was actually keen.

Then me being be...Encouraged Let things get a lil out of hand...Let's just say, there was some making out without the presence of clothing.  I have literally no self control around incredibly hawt, toned, well dressed men.  [sigh]

Only there's been this lil cloud over New Kid's age...I've gone as far as to request ID, but he assured me he's legit...Then some social media evidence appeared, which not only proves he's lying, but also that I really do seem to attract teenagers.  Nearly cried, not gonna lie!

Thing is, I honestly don't really care about his age.  Alright, this massively makes me some kind of cradle snatching cougar, but why lie!?  I abide being lied to, I really do!  Like, man up & be honest.  Risk it for my biscuit kid, 'cause right now you've got a lot of making up to do!

Maybe I'm not so much bad at dating & more rubbish at picking men...I just seem to pick boys instead!  I'm ID checking everyone from now on!  Swear down!

In the meantime, I have found a Lykke Li remix which is like my version of Prozac in this terribly shameful situation!

You left me in the dark, no dawn, no day

It's official: I don't know how to date!  Cereal, when did this shit get so frickin' hard!  I honestly don't remember it being this hard five years ago, y'know, before The 'douchebag' Ex came along & destroyed my ability to be a sexual deviant.  Bastard!

Back in the day I used to juggle three menshapes at a time!  I mean c'mon, you need backups right!  Now dating ONE guy at a time frazzles my mind!  I need help, serious help.  Like some kind of manual.  Just tell me the rules, of course I'll break them, but at least I'll have some guidance on it!

It also doesn't help that the word slow doesn't appear in my vocabulary.  Patience has never been my virtue, let's face it.  I'm an instantaneous kinda gal.  I like you, you like me, badda bing badda boom!  None of this text round the houses shit.  I mean, The Ex had moved in after three months!  Not that I want that kinda intense shizzle again anytime soon!

To top off my dating issues, it seems only prepubescent boys seem to be attracted to me.  Apparently my face age has been reduced to seventeen.  SEVENTEEN!!!  I hope I appreciate this youthful glow when I'm thirty.  Right now it is greatly getting in the way of my bearded, tattooed, hawt, tanned menshape dreams!

[sobbs]

I'm just gonna look at these beautiful menshape specimens to attempt to remember what I NEEEEEED!!!

Make it out of this grind, 'fore I'm out of my mind

I feel it's been a complex few months, to say the least.

Firstly, I agreed to meet up with The Boy, to 'catch up' & mainly for me to be able to voice my grievances over how things ended.  It had been two months since I'd last seen his face.  The first month was spent wallowing in self-pity.  Dealing with the feelings of utter rejection & worthlessness.  The second month was spent realising that I was better than that & that actually, let's face it, he's just one of many & nothing to cry over.

So there's me feeling all empowered & 'over it', got off my chest everything I'd been bottling up for the past two months.  Told him I wanted nothing but friendship & all that jazz.  The next day I felt good.  I was finally able to move on, having been able to tell him what a douchebag he is for the way he treated me.  Unfortunately, this feeling lasted all of two seconds before I realised that, he'd essentially, hooked me back in again & I was going to have to start the whole process over again.

Then my friend Maria dragged me out at the weekend & who did I have the misfortune of bumping into; The Boy.  It had been three weeks since our 'catch up', with no word in between.  I was not prepared & let's face it, I was drunk.  We exchanged words.  I found out, rather unfortunately, that he'd been 'active' with a few girls out in Ibiza on a recent trip.  I won't lie...There may have been some tears.  Thankfully not in front of him.  Or else I would have crawled into a ball & died of embarrassment!!!

Today I met up with one of my bestest friends, Kitty Kat.  I've literally known her for fifteen years!  Which is crazy.  But the length of our friendship is useful at times.  Such as now, when we are both going through somewhat of an identity crises, mainly brought on by evil menshapes!  Having known each other since we were ten years old, we have essentially grown up together.  We know who each other were, who we are now & who we distinctly are not.  Right now we're hanging out in the 'distinctly not' area.

We're lost.  I for one appreciate that, this current state of sombre madness, is not something I am going through alone!

As I said to Kitty, when you're on your own, you have a strong sense of identity.  However, when you're in a couple, you loose sight of this & you tend to merge into someone/something else.  Everything is compromised.  Which is as ridiculous as it is inevitable.   The uniqueness of you is what draws someone to you & then your relationship ends up depleting you of it entirely.  Then the relationship ends & you are left completely bewildered & lost.

We're both in the desert right now.  Plus, we've both reached the twenty five milestone & to be honest I'm in a confused state of mind as to how I'm supposed to act at this age.  I'm in limbo dammit!

To summarise, I am currently in a state of confusion.  I've entirely lost my sense of identity, purpose & general direction in life.  Therefore, the following months shall be spent job hunting, spending time with the people that know me best (even when I don't know myself!) & attempting to muddle through to some clarity.

That is all.

The Hopelessness of Me

So, after finally growing some (thankfully not very hairy) balls & registering with a recruitment agency in London, in a bid to procure myself a proper grown-up job, I have to say I have been rather disappointed by their progress.  Firstly they left me a message the other day to say they had a role for me.  Then I call them to seek out further details.  I'm told the recruiter is with another candidate & she'll call me back.  Fine, except she doesn't.  I call her the next day about it & she's 'left the office due to personal reasons'.  I'm told she'll call me about it the next day.  It's been two days & I've heard nada!  What happened to professionalism?  Why am I having to do all the donkey work?  I mean, these guys get paid when I do, right?

Apparently the job they have on offer is as a Legal Clerk.  Sounds interesting.  Worth an interview at least.  Is it wrong that my main concern with a job prospect is what I'm allowed to wear?  I understand corporate, but honestly, some people's ideas of office dress code is still stuck in the 90's!  If I even glance at a square toed block heel shoe I'll be sick!  That's not even a joke.   I mean really!

I was hoping that all this job hunting would distract me from my looming singledom.  Unfortunately, it hasn't.  If anything, I feel more lonely than ever!  I think I miss being apart of something, y'know, like a relationship is a team effort.  Your partner ends up being your best friend.  I love my best friends, but I don't wanna have sexytime with them.  Eurgh.  I need someone good looking (obvs), funny (always important, you don't want a guy with a stick up his ass), well-dressed (poor attire is something I honestly cannot forgive) & most importantly honest.  Honesty is not only the best policy but it is imperative for a relationship to work.  The Ex was seemingly never honest.  I can't trust someone who isn't & we all know, that without trust, you got nothing!

Let's take dear 'Darren' (clearly not his real name, but he & many others will know exactly who I'm talking about) for instance.  So there I am having a gay ol' time at Benicàssim (still at this point thinking that the French Docteur was incroyable & therefore attempting not to get involved with anyone else) & I meet this guy at the bar.  Unfortunately, I was not feeling my hottest at this moment, nor my most sociable (okay, so maybe not having the gayest of times...), so I chat & then bounce quite abruptly.  The next day, looking & feeling better, I happen to bump into this guy again & this time we actually spend time conversing.

Ellie & I had to leave to go see a new DJ we'd found at one of the stages & this guy, 'Darren', follows us there, leaving his friends behind.  Ellie was not suitably drunk enough by this point, so objected to being a 'third wheel', which probably wasn't helped by my drunken cartwheels (I landed several times on the back of my neck & generally made an arse of myself).  'Darren' & I kiss & then Ellie & I have a big tear-fueled falling out about the fact that I have this 'great' guy back in France (obvs this is now laughable knowing what we now know).  After some time, all issues of third wheel are resolved & we all head over to the dance stage, where we bump into some menshape friends of Ellies.

'Darren' & I siddle off to the turf area (gotta love turf, haven't you?), which by the by had a cross shaped pool (I mean c'mon!).  We sat in that area until five in the morning telling each other our life stories & I was like, wow, this guy is so cool.  Then I of course do the woman thing, where I start to immediately fantasize about how great a boyfriend he'd be.  So pathetic, but I do it every time!  Anyway, we agree to meet up in Brick Lane when we both get back to the UK.  I would like to point out right now that he knew of the existence of the French Docteur.  Y'know why, 'cause I'm honest!  Nothing good ever came from dishonesty!

Obviously I was in France for my birthday & 'Darren' messaged me on Facebook & suggested meeting up when I got back.  I told him I expected funding to be low, so I wasn't sure when.  Then I got back to the UK & I did actually have some dollar to my name, so I did something I never do, I texted him.  I suggested dinner & told him I'd message him the next day to confirm possible dates.  Next day I text him to say 'dinner, next week sometime?'  No response.  FOUR DAYS LATER he bothers to message me back.  I was like, really!?  I don't know, am I overreacting here?  That's like nearly a week.

I decided not to respond.  Then he calls me a few days later, says he didn't message me back because he was busy renovating this new flat he's got.  We build a bridge, we get over it.  Date is arranged in Sevenoaks, because it is an equal distance from where he lives in London & where I am on the coast.  The day of the date arrives.  One hour before we are supposed to meet up, he calls me to say he's still in London & is like 'I dunno what to do'.  My first thought; 'well, what you're meant to do is, stick to the fucking plan asshole'.  I refrained.  In the end though, I honestly had to CONVINCE him to go on a date with me.  No word of a lie!  Alarm bells should have been ringing at this point.  Still I persevered & went to dinner with him.

The annoying & rather confusing thing was, he was really nice on the date.  Very funny.  Insisted on paying.  Still very cute looking.  I was a little nervous but at the same time unconvinced of a spark.  We both went our separate ways at the end of the night & he texted me to say how lovely it was to see me again.  Brownie points, natch.  I don't know whether I was just actually mildly uninterested or unintentionally playing it cool, but I seemed to never message him, unless it was a response to something he'd messaged me & even then it wasn't particularly flirty.

So the other week I'm in London for this interview.  I thought great, as I'm in London, I can easily see 'Darren' again.  I message him nearly a week before hand & tell him I'll be in town.  He was like, what are your plans.  I told him I have this interview at one & then I'm going to go see my Aussie friends afterwards in Brick Lane.  His first response?  'Oh, I won't be in Brick Lane on Friday, I'm gonna be the other side of town'.  Writing this doesn't really put across quite the way it was said, it was like, 'well, I don't want to hit up Brick Lane, so you can come to me' basically & I hadn't even asked nor expected him to!  But then it riled me that he wouldn't even consider crossing town for me.  It's a tube stop for Christ's sake!  Taxi at best.  That's when it hit me.  I was always going to have to do the running in this relationship.  So I ignored his text, had a great evening with the Aussies & went home.

'Darren' continued to call & text me, which was fine.  I responded, not necessarily favorably.  Then it came to Shakedown.  I'd invited him to it with no response (as usual).  He then texted me to see how it was going, said he wished he'd come.  In my drunken haze I messaged him back several hours later & told him to come to Audio for the after party.  At first he seemed quite tempted.  After several messages I simply ended it with 'now or never'.  He never came.  The next day he messaged me asking how I was & when could he see me.  I told him 'it was now or never, clearly you chose never'.  His response?  'Oh well, you win some you lose some.'  Jeez, that whole experience was so worth it, right?  I mean honestly.  What was the point!?  I don't get it.

So to summerise on what has been an exceptionally long post/rant, when I meet a guy I want him to be honest.  What is it exactly that you're after?  Do you like me enough to honestly make the effort or is this just foreplay for you?  'Cause I've broken hearts & had mine shredded in front of me before & I have become a little less open to life & 'seeing where the wind blows' kinda experiences.  If I'm gonna put myself out there I wanna know it's for someone who actually wants it.  Not some arse wipe who's just out to make me jump through hoops just to stroke his ego.  I have not got the time nor the inclination & if I'm honest, I hope dear 'Darren' reads this, if not to understand where he went so unequivocally wrong with me.  Like I said to him 'I like you, you like me, make it happen'.

There's a tarantula in the bathroom!

Getting myself out of a depressive black spot, can sometimes be extremely difficult.  Recently they have been few & far between, which for a manic depressive (I refuse to use the term bipolar, it only draws images of Britney Spears & Kerry Katona & I for one refuse to be associated with either of those two) such as myself, is pretty good.

Usually it's the little things that seem to draw the most response.  Pumping myself full of sugar & caffeine, by way of three cans of Coke, usually kick-starts the proceedings.  Then it's the beloved French films on the iPlayer (2 Days in Paris is my absolute favourite!).  Talking with friends always helps & Christmas gift ideas go a long way to pulling me into a different space (even if the holiday season is three months away).

Unfortunately, I am now having to make the enforced decision of quitting step one altogether.  Coke.  It is the Devil's drink after all.  Plus, & this brings me onto the title of this post, it has diuretic effects, leading me to pee a trillion times a day!  In fact, it was on my one millionth trip to les toilettes, that I peered up & saw, what was essentially, a tarantula.  Midnight peeing, combined with lethal arthropods equals moi acknowledging I need to QUIT!

Plus, I finally went for my interview with the recruitment agency on Friday, so I am 'this' much closer to having a job in London!  Living by the coast & working in the city requires exceptionally early starts, which at current I struggle with.  In fact, I struggle to get up for work at eleven.  I am therefore worried.  Six am wake-up calls, dark mornings, cold walks to the station.  Did I make the right decision!?

Being unable to get to bed before midnight is also a factor in my morning haze.  One am, two am, I've been known to crash at three am, even on a school night.  But alas, it is not I, it once again can be blamed on the Coke!  You see, caffeine has a tendency to stay in your system for a shockingly long time & makes your body unable to benefit from deep sleep.  Bastard soda!  You win again!

Nope, as of tomorrow, it is l'eau all the way!  Even when the six ice cold cans sitting neatly in the refrigerator stare up at me when I go to grab a slice of bread (fridges are the new bread bins don't ya know), I shall ignore their glares & turn away.  If not for my bladder, if not for my (much needed beauty) sleep, than for my ever increasing thighs!!!

I gained two pounds before I left for La Grande Aventue.  Then a further five pounds while out there (I'd like to say from all the fine dining, but I wouldn't want to lie to you like that...).  When I returned, I made a valid effort to stay on the straight & narrow.  No Coke (clearly that didn't last).  No MaccyD's.  No takeaways.  No chocolate (surprising easy!).  No crisps.

It was salad for most of August & you know what, when I went to Findon to see Miss Dunn the other week, I'd lost seven pounds!  Which was great.  The only problem being that, once I lose weight, I see it as a battle won.  I seem to go into celebration mode & start to over consume high fat, high calorie foods again.  So now, although I have not been weighed yet, I have seemingly regained some of that weight.  Well, fat!

Mostly it seems to wish to absorb into my thighs.  I can handle my body.  I like it.  It's been abused in numerous ways on numerous occasions, but I still like it.  The only thing I can't handle?  Chaffing!  I'm not even kidding you.  Everyone I whine to thinks I'm making it up, or over exaggerating, but it's true!  It's that really annoying bit of residual fat that loves to linger at the very top of my inner thighs, taunting me.

It keeps me awake at night, I swear!  If I could just get rid of it, I'd be a happy woman.  Well, y'know, until my next 'episode'.  But then we'll reach for the DVD collection, grab a pen & paper & start writing out my gift list.

Quote Of The Day

"It has been my philosophy of life that difficulties vanish when faced boldly."  Isaac Asimov

I would like to address the individual known only as 'anonymous'; Should you think me such a c**t & my blog so outrageously uninteresting, then why do you insist on spending your precious time reading it & commenting on it?

Perhaps your time would be better spent reading something you actually enjoy, rather than critiquing something you don't.

Just a thought.

Some people just bring you down

You know how somethings you once loved become spoiled by certain events or people?  Like how I now can't listen to Two Door Cinema Club, because the Super Stalker Ex-Boyfriend gave me the album.  Well, my precious memories of seeing A-Trak in Cannes (I will do a post on the rest of La Grande Aventure at some invariable point, I promise) have now been spoiled by the once charming, now seemingly evil, hawt French docteur.

There's Ellie & I, high as kites & barefoot on the sandy beach of Cannes, surrounded by wall to wall HMs (Hot Males) & there before me I spot a rather tanned, well dressed, bespectacled man.  Eye contact is made, we share a smile & then Ellie & I disappear.

Later we return to the scene of the crime, this time shouting 'Nath!' in our best Aussie accents (long story on that one) & manage to bump into said hawt, well dressed man.  This time he's sitting on the water's edge, so we decide to sit with him & his ami.

Names are exchanged.  French is taught.  English is attempted.  He's twenty six (parfait).  Just qualified as a docteur (excellente).  Lives near Cannes (pratique).  He's also absurdly good looking & claims to be single.  It was like all my little French dreams had come true.

We all got up to dance, kisses occurred & then, 'poof', he was gone.  Dragged off by his friend to some club on the sea front.  Perhaps mainly because Ellie had knocked him back.  Or maybe because he's a massive cock blocker.  Whichever.

I had his name & number.  We texted.  I added him on Facebook (always dangerous really).  We invited him to come to Montpellier when we were back there in two weeks time.  He agreed.  Seemed keen.  In Perpignan, a few days later, Ellie stated that said docteur was not to come to Montpellier alone.  Spare wheel she did not wish to be.

Docteur & I corresponded via FB & text everyday for two whole weeks.  There we were in Barcelona, miserable after Ellie's Mini got broken into & docteur texts me his condolences.  He cannot attend precious Montpellier gig, as he has no ami to bring.

Alarm bells should have gone off then really.  Who doesn't have a friend to bring!?  Surely you'd have someone to bring!  But no, apparently not.  However, docteur was still keen to see me once again & invited us both to his abode in the south.

I was 'this close' to going to his house, literally 'this close', but after a rather unfortunate drunken hate campaign of a night, we instead drove straight to Chabanais.

Upon my return to England, docteur was still in contact.  Invited me to come visit him in the south of France, at his home.  He starts work in Paris in September & suggested I come visit him there as well.

There was me, off in my dreamy little world of French loving & then, the inevitable happened.  I late-night Facebook stalked & I have to say, I am dayumn glad I did.  Turns out docteur had a girlfriend the whole frickin' time!!!  Since March in fact!

What is up with these men!?  Even the seemingly hawt genuine, very keen ones are actually major a-holes!

I considered becoming a lesbian.  But, to be honest with you, my trust is gone.  Even woman are deceitful.  Therfore I think I shall just be celibate.  [sobs]

So to summerise, whenever I think of Cannes, I no longer think of Diddy, I now only recall meeting a lying cheating annoyingly good-looking hawt French docteur.  This is also the case for A-Trak, who, as you know, I love, but who's image & mixes will now only bring up bad memories.

Well thanks docteur, thanks for nothing!  Pffft!

Turmoil of a deranged mind

I've come to the conclusion that life by the coast is not for me.  I've never been particularly drawn to the seaside.  I very rarely go in the sea, even when I'm abroad it's a hard push to get me in the water.  I have a phobia you see, of well, everything really.  The mere thought of a fish & I hyperventilate.  If a whisper of seaweed touches my leg I run for the nearest grain of dry sand.

No, sea air in my lungs is not an essential requirement.  I much prefer the smell of agriculture in the air.  I prefer to look out of my bedroom window, or any window for that matter, & see field upon field of grass & crops & cows munching.  The familiar smell of dung.  What can I say, I'm a country bumpkin at heart.

I miss my three mile daily walks around the lanes, dragging a wheezing Mr Piggles behind me.  Dressing up in my mac & Hunters, forcing Mr Piggles to avoid horse excrement & rather piscine sized puddles as we trundle along.  I miss listening to my musik on the way round & having that time to escape the dreariness of general life.  [sigh]

Here on the coast there are no country walks.  Here there are sea walks.  Nothing is private, nothing is sacred.  If I take Mr Piggles for a walk around these parts, my main concerns are trying to avoid him seeing (& subsequently eating) people's leftover KFC on the streets & fights with other dogs (he has a complex, I believe it's called small dog syndrome).

Nothing is the same here.  Nothing is quiet or beautiful.  On a hot day down by the harbour, you could accept that it is not always so devoid of charm.  However, since my return from France, warm weather has been rather lacking in the South East & my trips to the harbour have been null & void.

I recently returned to my homeland & it feels so natural being there, that it is almost crushing to have to drive the hour back towards the coast.  Although, so much has seemingly changed there & the majority of my friends are now working in London & aiming on moving there too.

I suppose in essence all this country loving seems rather fruitless, when I too, in my heart of hearts, wish to venture into the capital.  Although I feel the city will be somewhat more brutal than the coast, in way of skylines & space to breath.

What a pickle one seems to get oneself into.  Twenty four years down the line & I still have not entirely worked out what I want.  Perhaps with too many options in life, it's hard to actually commit yourself to just one thing, without the greed factor whispering 'why not have it all...'

Decisions decisions.

Can I leave now?

So I had an idea to finally grab life by the balls & go do everything I ever wanted. I threw it all away so I could go travel round France for a few months. Incorporate myself with the local lifestyle, work out there picking fruit & shizzle. I wanted to immerse myself & hopefully find some meaning to my life along the way.

Now, now I'm going to party with P Diddy in Cannes & live it up with a bunch of English guys on a beach in Spain. This is not a journey of self discovery. This is a glorified holiday. A long holiday & one I have taken many times before.

I don't want to sweat it out listening to mediocre music with other English people. I don't want to have thrown it all away to be with English people. The whole idea was to get AWAY from the Brits! Now even the stalker ex will be there!

How is this a journey of self discovery! I am not happy. I am not excited & quite frankly I don't feel like going!

This may be a last minute panic attack, but I'm having it anyway!

Schucks, doesn't life suck!

I remember back in the day, after I broke up with The Ex (taking a moment to appreciate what a good idea that was) & I was all eratic & insane, like back in the good ol' days.  What happened to that buzz man?  Life's got boring.  In fact, scrap that, I'VE got boring!

This trip better be insane in the frickin' membrane, 'cause I've sacrificed a personality for it, along with a whole lot of other seemingly important shizzle.

 

The potential is ripe for the picking

I've always believed I was born to do great things.  That one day, I would change the world.  However, twenty three years in, it appears as though my potential has gone to waste.  Perhaps I locked it away somewhere deep down inside, like a hostage in my own body.

Maybe I'm waiting on the ransom.  Or maybe I just forgot exactly where I hid this potential.  Either way, I need to pull my finger out & do something with it.  If I can't find it, well damn it, I'll simply have to re-create it!

Come hell or high water, I shall achieve something in my life!  Otherwise, what's the point of it all?

From the day we are born we begin a journey towards death.  We are, as I type, dying.  And yet, we seem so fearful of the whole procedure, like somehow, perhaps, we can stop it, if we just try hard enough.  But, we cannot.  We were not made immortal, this is simply the structure of life & we must choose to accept it.  In fact, we should embrace it.

For perhaps if we really did embrace the fact that life is fleeting, that everyday could very well be our last, then perhaps we would live up to our potential.  We would strive to actually do more.  Be more.  See more!

Three hundred & sixty five days go by so fast & before you know it, the years have flown by & suddenly you're twenty, then thirty & then by God, you've reached forty & you still never got round to doing all of those things you set out to accomplish.  Those things that were important to you, to your underlying happiness, but that you put aside to do other things.  The day to day things, which suddenly seemed more important & more importantly, more achievable, at the time.

We're too busy looking at the small parts all the time, that sometimes we completely forget to take a look at the overall picture.

Each day will flow by as naturally as the one before.  The difference a day makes is you.  You can change everything, or nothing in your life, simply by making a choice.  What you will eat for breakfast.  What you will watch on TV.  Whether or not you will even bother to venture outside today.

All the little things that add up to yet another day, a day that is either wasted or used to its maximum potential.

I say rise a little earlier, see a bit more light.  Go for a walk, it's surprisingly enjoyable.  Eat a little better, maybe you'll live a day longer.  But most importantly, cancer, aids, other life-altering ailments or not, remember, you are dying mes amis!  Live now, for tomorrow (or the next day, week, year) you may be gone & what will you have to show for it?

Live, love & most importantly, enjoy it for fuck's sake!

The ramblings of an irate woman

Isn't life really crap sometimes!  I guess there has to be some bad times in order to actually appreciate the good times.  I mean, if it was good all the time, you wouldn't even know it, as you'd have nothing to compare it with.  We'd simply be flat lining.

I feel my head's in a jar of pickles at the moment & I'm inebriated with stress!  I would like to think that even in my rage filled state of mind, I could be capable of finding the door to happiness.  One would hope so anyway.

In the meantime, I have at least been broadening my culinary skillz.  Through the inspiration of Nigel Slater, via his Simple Suppers series, I made (from scratch, I would like to add) lamb & onion boigers, on a bed of garlic pesto & Italian salad with a hint of tomato & a slice of goat's cheese, lovingly hugged in a ciabatta roll, fresh from the oven.  Not forgetting the bangtidy potato wedges on the side.  I was secretly quite impressed by myself, not gonna lie.

Hopefully some organisation will bring back my inner happiness.  That & a Nando's!

When we talk, we talk & when we rant...

Yesterday was one of the longest days of my life!  No lie.  After arriving late for work in Canterbury (time keeping was never my strong point), a blizzard decided to break out & after watching its progress for just over two hours, my manager finally decided that maybe she should send everyone home.

Not only did it take two people to push my tiny auto-mobile out of the carpark, it then took me two hours just to get down the road.  After about three hours I got a phone call from my manager to say everyone else had made it home a-okay, which really didn't help my dwindling enthusiasm, as I had traveled all of about three miles.  By the time six hours had passed & after not having eaten or drunk anything all day, I was starting to question my overall ability to get home & maybe a few tears attempted to gather in the corners of my eyes.  But I held back, if not for the fear of dehydration.

The agonising journey was only made worse by the passengers from the cars ahead of me popping off to get Maccy D takeaways!  Bastards!  Due to me being alone (all alone), I was unable to abandon ship & run towards the nearest festive menu!

By the time I got within about five miles to home, I was finally able to (vaguely) put my foot down.  I've never been so grateful to be able to drive at twenty five miles per hour in my entire life!

Nine & a half hours it took me to drive the twenty mile journey home.  All I have to say is that snow is satanic & should be destroyed at all costs!

Most importantly, it pin points the complete & utter failings of the British Government & its inability to budget!  Come on Cameron, Clegg, other countries seem to survive just fine when the Devil's work falls upon its streets, but we as a nation, fall apart & come to a complete standstill!  More money needs to be pumped into prevention, rather than a cure.  Not that you've done much towards that either!

On another level & far from the bane of snow, I have recently been witness to some FB abuse in regards to this blog, from, what I can only describe as, ignoramuses.  It is laudable considering the intellect of these individuals.  Their idea of fun is mastrobating over a game of COD.  I'm surprised they could actually understand half of what I write, well, maybe with a dictionary to hand.  Well, well done you.  I'm happy that your FB comments have made your day.  I shall avoid further ranting by the successful deletion & blocking of you.  Job done.

On a lighter note, I have actually been rather productive this afternoon (why rise before twelve!?).

Not only have I successfully written & posted all of my Christmas cards (lovingly adorned with exclusive Mr Piggles stamps), but I have actually bathed Mr Piggles (with the help of mère, his attempts at escaping are so unnecessary)!  He may pretend not to like it, flaring him paws out at acute angles whenever nearing the bathroom, but once in, I think he secretly enjoys it.  At least he now looks & smells so fresh & so clean clean!

I have also been reunited with my love of Peep Show!  I have fully caught up-to-date with the whole of series seven today whilst continuing the painting of my bedroom (you see, I have been productive!).  Literally love that show!

God bless 4oD & BBC iPlayer, that's all I can say!

Sometimes you have to take a step back, in order to take a step forward

Everyday we are boxed into believing that this is it.  Working in a dead end job nine to five, struggling to make ends meet, the general daily grind, with marriage & children nicely parked at the end.  That's all we should expect & adhere to.  But I say no, that's not what my life is made of!  If that's it, well, I'd rather end it now.  Why let life be so predictable, why stay within the lines that other people choose to draw around you.

You have an entire world to explore, billions of people to meet & experience a world of possibilities with.  Why choose to ignore that?  Well, I guess people do it out of fear.  A fear of failure, that the choices they make, might just turn out to be the wrong ones.  That possibly they'll end up destitute & alone.

I admit, that yes, that could happen.  But maybe taking the risk, no matter if you fail or succeed, would be better than what you were doing before, living a life in a safe house of your own making.

After all, isn't life for living?

I have at times & up until recently allowed myself to fall back into my comfort zone.  Working six days a week to live, what is essentially, a very basic existence.  Work, TV, Eat, Sleep, Party.  But I no longer want this cycle to rule my life.  Yes, it may be simple, easy & most importantly safe, but people throw themselves out of planes for Christ's sake, just to avoid feeling any of those things & you know what, they enjoy it!  Yes, they could die, but they would have died doing something they loved, something that brought them joy.

If you died today, could you really look back on your life & think 'yep, I did everything I wanted to, I'm content'?  'Cause I for one wouldn't!

Sometimes in life, you have to make the decision to follow your own thought process, to take a leap of faith & trust that, even if you fail, you made the right decision.  Because at the end of the day, there is no wrong or right, just the eventual consequences of your actions.

God gave you the ability to dream for a reason.  You have a mind, yet you choose not to use it.  If you want to do something, take a chance & do it.  What's the worst that could happen?  It's better to regret that which you have done, than that which you never had the courage to.

In the words of someone far more talented than I (not hard really), "You may say that I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one."

I may be a bum, but I'm a happy one.

The truth shall out!

At times you are forced to question, not only your decisions in life, but also your beliefs.  In a world where you feel like an outsider & everyone else seems to succeed but you, it's hard to stand tall & believe in yourself.

Today has been one of those days.  I have been pushed to my absolute limit & back again.  Despair has a tendency to show its face & ending it all, from time to time, actually seems like a good option.

But I will not be defeated by a hideous beast of a man, I shall not be beaten down by people who would stoop so low as to bad mouth me behind my back.  No, if anything, I will pick myself up & persevere & make good on the promises I made to myself, to do something spectacular with my life.

These things are sent to try us, to push us, to see if we want the things we want enough to pick ourselves up & try & then try, oh & try again, until we succeed & prove them all wrong.

I am a firm believer in karma & those that choose to do things out of spite & selfishness will only have themselves to blame when a cascade of poor fortune falls upon them!

So my friends, please believe that the fortune you seek in life will only come from the actions you take yourself & not of others or luck.  That family is most definitely what you make it & if someone shows them self to be anything less than honorable, you don't have to associate with them, even if you share the same DNA.

I am simply pleased that those who wear masks have revealed themselves, so that I may know the truth.

Peace out hombres.