Yesterday’s Smile

It was about 10.30pm, and I was on a train and in my third hour of a journey home from London.

Somewhere on the opposite side of the carriage and a couple of seats behind mine were sitting a young mother and her little boy – who was at a guess around two years old.

For most of the journey the pair were babbling away to each other in that way that mothers and toddlers do. Then we reached a station a couple of stops away from my own (and a couple more still away from theirs), and as the train slowed to a halt the boy got ridiculously excited, jumping up and down screaming ‘Are we there are we there are we there? Mummy, are we there???’

No, mummy explained, no we’re not there yet. This is Thorne, we’ve got about 45 minutes to go…

and so (even though I’m pretty sure this kid was far too young to understand ’45 minutes’) he began to cry. Loudly. Wailing and sobbing as if the most tragic thing in the world, ever, had just happened to him.

(At this point the teenage boy sitting in front of and opposite to me, with whom I’d looked up from my book to make brief eye contact, shared a smirk with me before mumbling something which might have been ‘oh god, please no’).

After about 30 seconds of the mournful hysterics the mother put us all out of our misery/mild irritation;

“Oh… Stop Pretending To Cry!”

And so he did. Instantly. And remained silent for the next thirty seconds before starting up all over again.

Maybe you had to be there, but I had to giggle.

Cuteness.

^-^

Ooh, and…

Something that made me smile today.

A little girl and her dad ordered a create-your-own pizza. He let her stay behind and watch me make it while he went to grab a couple of things from the aisle nearby. She chatted to me about all sorts of little-girl things, then told me that she and her dad were going to have a nerf fight when they got home – at which point she ran off to get the nerf guns and darts to show me. Dad came back with her and said ‘Yeah but I’m totally gonna win…’ and they got into an adorable little ‘I’m-gonna-win! – No-you’re-not, I-am…’ squabble, ending in a dad-victory-by-tickling.

Enough cuteness to break the monotony of 9 hours spent putting food things on other food things, if only for a little while.

~xx~

Twenty.

Your Fears. 

1. People. Especially the ones I know least, and the ones I know (or would really really like to know) best. They Are Going To Hurt Me, and It Will Hurt. 

2. The Future. One Way Or Another, It Is Going To Hurt. 

3. Myself, and the part I will play in both of the above. I Have This Funny Way Of Always Making Myself Hurt. 

~xx~

Elfte Dagen

Your Family. 

…

(^The Parentals)

(^The brothers)

(^The Sister and Me)

(^The Other – Furry – Brothers)

(^My Babies)

Camera dodgers, the lot of ‘em.

Apologies for the generally crap quality of pics, too.

(You have NO idea how difficult it is to photograph 2 fishes at once with a phone).

Love,

~xx~

Essentials In Life:

Someone To Love.

Something To Do.

Something To Look Forward To.

~

Thus read a plaque I saw in a tiny, crooked little gift shop in Boscastle, Cornwall, when on holiday there with my family 2 years ago.

(From where my mother acquired a gargoyle to add to the extensive collection of Green Men distributed around the external walls of our house).

 

I think I treat the people I love pretty badly, most of the time. Where this doesn’t make them disappear pretty quickly, my efforts to make up for my failures usually only end up making things worse – and making them disappear eventually instead. (I would add here that in my case the Someone to Love would probably have to be loving me back for me to be Happy. Not sure if everyone would agree there, but Heck I guess I’m just needy). Family can’t very easily disappear all too permanently and are more forgiving than other people, so I guess I’m managing about half for the first one.

['So if Heaven is where the good people go, Up There, (pointing) and Hell is where the bad people go, Down there (pointing) ...where the Hell is Heck?' asked once my eight-year-old self, of my 'Hell is a swear-word' Grandmother - thinking I was being so damn clever. I eventually came to the conclusion that Heck must be where bad animals go when they die].

 

My job is (very) part time, and I’m so useless at it – despite it being pretty much the most mind-numbingly simplistic job ever – that whenever I ask for more hours I’m generally offered about 4 more per week for 2 weeks in each month. (I’m a nice girl who means well and they don’t really want to upset me, but damn why am I so useless?)

I’m not complaining. Every little helps and all that. But the fact remains that there are 4 days in most weeks during which I have absolutely no obligation to do anything at all. My friends all live somewhere between pretty far away and really far away. I haven’t really made any friends at work, yet; I try, and small talk is mostly better than no talk, but being there still tends to make me feel pretty lonely. Even the old friends that aren’t all that far away are still far enough that visiting regularly takes its toll on my fuel tank and consequently my bank balance. I’m trying to keep some moneys safe so that moar university remains a viable option where my not-too-distant future is concerned. So my masses of free time these days, even when spent doing actual stuff, tend to be mostly spent alone. I need ‘Me-Time’ (and I hate that phrase) but not this much of it. Finding another job that would leave me with less of it is proving difficult, mainly because there don’t seem to be any available that I could really get excited about. I invariably get halfway through an application before realising that I could never find the enthusiasm required to convince an interviewer that I even really wanted the job, never mind showing I could actually be good at it.

Maybe I’m just being pathetic. Maybe I am just pathetic. Because I’m pretty sure I’m as terrified of change and as useless at people right now as I have been all my life. As for alternative mind-numbingly simplistic jobs, I would appear to be living in the actual middle of actual nowhere; there just aren’t any within a 30-mile radius, and I’m probably quite lucky to even have the one I’ve got. (I thank my lucky stars for my manager in York thinking I was ‘a really good kid’, and for my manager here thinking I ‘sounded nice on the phone’). I want to write for a living, because although I may not be all too great at it, I find it a damn sight easier than out-loud real-life verbal communication.

(Have you ever had that thing where someone says something to you and it takes you so long to process what they just said that by the time you’ve come up with a proper response you’ve already awkwardly laughed and mumbled some kind of non-response and looked stupid and the conversation’s moved on/ended? Have you ever been concentrating so hard on making sure you’re smiling and making eye contact as much as is socially normal that you weren’t concentrating hard enough on what the person was saying and so the response you gave to their question just came out sounding really dumb? I guess all these things are excusable if you manage to prove yourself to be witty, charming and socially capable later on. Or perhaps if they’re male and you’re pretty and flirty and trying really hard. I tend to fail repeatedly, get angry at myself for my repeated failure and shut up, so as not to make things even worse. Where pretty is concerned, the best I could ever hope for was ‘cute’. And skinny. Unhappy really really ain’t cute, and skinny is only acceptable when proven accompanied by healthy).

 

As for the future I suppose I can say I’m working on it. Not knowing what’s next in my life – because nice as the people I work with may have been to me thus far, I really can’t stay there much longer without properly, irrevocably  losing my mind – is probably what’s killing me most. I’m beginning to think that applying for jobs that really don’t appeal to me that much but would require me to move to an unfamiliar city far from home all by myself  might not be the best course of action for me. (For Me, Y’ hear?).

So I’ve decided instead to apply only for the ones that really do appeal, when (if) they come up, and otherwise maybe – if there’s any possibility of anyone lending me the money to do so – prepare myself for Postgraduate study next year in a subject area that I know I could really fall for. I go crazy if I try to follow the dreams and goals that everyone else would approve of, so maybe I’ll give following my own a go. If that doesn’t work out, what I’ll have lost will be more money; I’ll have an even more Heckish debt on my shoulders. What I’ll have gained? More/more impressive letters after my name, more pieces of paper saying I’ve learned some stuff, some work experience in the big city if I’m lucky, some time to figure things out a bit more (and maybe become less scared) if I’m lucky, and perhaps even some of the people skills that I’m told I lack so sorely but cannot ‘go anywhere’ in life without. Or, perhaps the skills with which to go somewhere in life all by myself with bare minimum people skills. Or perhaps the courage to say fuck it all and take myself somewhere completely new and far away and just take my chances.

 

Anyway, Who Cares? If you’ve read this far I imagine I’ve done a pretty good job of boring you to death. That’s what I don’t understand about blogging; people talking about themselves and their lives and the things they know and care about. Nobody likes to hear other people talk about themselves, do they? Yet everyone likes doing it. I read a post yesterday where someone was essentially complaining about people complaining in their blogs. You have nothing to legitimately complain about unless something really, genuinely tragic has happened to you. Fair point, but… But I think in reality perspective is something of a Holy Grail at times. I try to always apologise for my unnecessary negativity, but I often wonder why I should. This is my blog and surely I can write what I want to write. Often, what I want to write is all of the nastiness away; writing this stuff is like therapy. People don’t like me writing or talking it at them – they’re not my therapist, and they have their own lives to live – but I feel so much better for writing it all somewhere, and naturally I find myself wanting to feel better wherever possible. The answer is simple; if you don’t like what I’m writing, stop reading.

Humanity is stupid.

Sometimes, I really regret not asking for the number of the skydiving instructor I fell 15,000 feet with, when afterwards he said to me; ’So, Sociology… That’s all about how humanity’s basically fucked, right?’
We could have been ‘happy on the inside’  jumping out of planes for a living together. (And he was cute. And he kissed me on the cheek when I left. And the mind wanders when it only has itself for company).

…Photo?

Here is my favourite among Mum’s Green Man Army;

 

.

His name is Steve. He was named after me, because my sister and I decided to name one Green Man after each member of the family. This one definitely had to be Steve, since he kinda resembles Steve Martin, the actor. Right?

(We’re all mental to some extent, here. That’s why for now I call it Home).

~xx~

How Apple Strudel Got Her Name

… is a story I cringe to tell, and only ever will if I have absolutely no other option.*

But yeah. I’ve mentioned my goldfish,  Apple Strudel, before haven’t I?  (Here.)

Well, a little while ago I got a new fish tank. On Tuesday I moved Strudel into it, and bought a new wee fishy which is currently in quarantine in the old, small tank before he/she can move into the grown-ups’ tank and be Strudel’s friend. (Said newbie  is also in need of a name; preferably a gender neutral one alluding to a dessert and/or a somewhat lethal alcoholic beverage).

: )

Here’s the old-timer;

And here’s the teeny tiny new baby;

.

They pretty.

[I swear I am not the goldfish equivalent of the stereotypical crazy cat lady].

In other news I have this horrible feeling my laptop may be about to die a hideous death on me. So, umm…

Love ‘n’ hugs

~xx~

*other options include forcibly removing my own premolars/eyeballs using blunt cutlery, and throwing myself blindly out of the nearest (closed) window.

Birds Flyin’ High,

You Know How I Feel ~

.

So today I spent most of my time feeling much better than I have done for a while.  : )

Mostly for no particular reason, but here are a few of the things that have happened today to make me smile;

- I ran just over 3km in 17 minutes, with my younger brother. I have no idea whether that’s anything close to an achievement more generally, but it was my first time running in at least 4 weeks. We also have big plans; Half marathon distance (without walking any) will be achievable in six weeks’ time. Hopefully having D as a running buddy will help me to not give up this time.

- My little cousin said something really cute. After I’d chased her around the house and found her hiding on the stairs, I told her I liked her hair clips; she told me she’d got them for her birthday, proudly declared herself to be seven now, and asked me how I old I was. When I told her (21-and-a-half days ’til I turn 21), she said

‘that’s really, REALLY old!’

It’s ok, I know she meant it in a nice way. :3

- I wrote something for moonproject.co.uk, which hopefully will go on there tomorrow. *fingers crossed*

I’m not sure if anyone will really sympathise with what I was saying there, but even if they don’t publish it/everyone bashes me for it, it made me feel better to have typed it all out.

- I acquired a little black dress (like I didn’t already have enough of those, but… gift horses in the mouth and all that, right?) which pleasantly resembles the one I wore for my 19th birthday celebrations. Let’s just say I felt kinda sexy wearing the original, but it definitely couldn’t withstand the terrible ordeal I put it through that one and only time I wore it. (No, not in that way, Thank God. Definitely not in that way. Ha).

I’m ashamed to say I sank to the level of vain required for there to exist a photo of me wearing said new dress, but I don’t think I could ever quite bring myself down to the level of narcissistic whore required to put it on here.

Instead, here is a photo of a latte with bear-shaped froth (brought to my attention by a slightly lovely friend and which I think at least one other friend will appreciate if reading, too);

Loves,

~xx~

My Sister’s Logic;

(K, D and myself are sitting/lying in the garden, under the shade of a parasol… first properly sunny day of their school holidays).

 

D: Gah, why are there so many spiders?

Me: (quoting Family Guy) …there’s way too many spiders. Why are there so many spiders? The brochure said there would only be a few spiders. This is a terrible vacation.

- K and I begin to giggle, and can’t stop -

K: It’s true though, it’s harder to stop laughing when you’re laid on your back.

- more uncontrollable giggling -

K: But yeah, it’s annoying. That’s the only thing it (the parasol) doesn’t block out; spiders.

D: What? What so it blocks out everything but spiders?  It’s blocking out… me and you and the grass and the trees and the air…

K: Yeah. Everything around us, it’s all just spiders. Everything is spiders.

Me: So… We’re actually in a black hole right now? There’s nothing here at all, except us and the spiders? We’re not even here?

K: (giggling like a lunatic) …Spiders!

~

 

You probably had to be there.

Aren’t you gutted you weren’t?

; )

~xx~

Yesterday,

(All my troubles seemed… to be up my nose and catching in my throat and reverberating around the suffocating emptiness in my head… Hi There, can I help? Yeah, of course, I just need to go and fetch more ______ from the back, won’t be a second…)

Yesterday was kind of a sucky day.

But there’s a really goofy smile in there nonetheless.

So;

I woke up to a not-so-good morning text from someone whose emotional bullshit I would rather not have to face right now, thanks.  Yes, I am a hypocrite; nobody does emotional bullshit like I do, at times. However, this person was categorically not there for me the last time that happened, and for once I’ve decided that that actually matters to me. Cry on someone else’s shoulder, mine hurts. (Oh yeah – right arm feeling distinctly weird after an incident at work the day before, which I won’t go into the details of because *cringe*).

My dad (for a dumb ass reason I won’t go into, but let’s just say it wasn’t my fault – and weirdly, this time I don’t think I would take the guilt so nobody else had to have it) spent all day in hospital having an operation which seemed to have caused him a whole new problem by the time he came round. Apparently there was a lot of waiting and a lot of being passed along from doctor to increasingly-less-well-informed doctor, involved. In addition to being mostly clueless, it seemed there just weren’t enough of them in the place to go around – hence why, I suppose.  And why none of them appeared to give a damn and why he was eventually sent home in agony and pretty clueless about the whole situation himself, at about 11pm.

I won’t bad-mouth the NHS, but I would say that it’s still a fucking fantastic plan to never ever ever get ill, and I really hope my auntie makes a speedy recovery too, from her doctor’s mistake in prescribing her medication she had a known allergy to, plus whatever was originally wrong with her.

Now, I don’t know very much about all this because I was at work. There I was one of a team consisting of, on average over the 8 hours of my shift, 3 people. Ordinarily this would be mildly frustrating. Yesterday, for once in the place’s life there were a fair few customers kicking about. A fair few of those customers wanted things from the deli counter, hot food counter and/or wanted pizzas making up. Cue my responsibility. I won’t go into the duller details, but let’s just say I feel like I deserve a medal for managing to keep everybody happy whilst (noticeably) shaking from hunger – I’d had lunch pretty early in the day and didn’t get a break until 6pm, and have this thing where if I don’t eat enough I shut down –  and then leaving the place, on time, in the kind of sparkly-clean state that makes everyone working the next morning think I have actual OCD or something.

So that wasn’t fun. Apart from the bit where I was maniacally trying to get the scary bloke’s pizzas made and cooked in time for his return (following a pretty massive distraction involving a wedding cake made of cheese… yes, you read that right) and a lady approached the nearby salad bar with an adorable, very smiley baby in her trolley. To cut a short story shorter; goofy grin.

You may wonder why I include this in ‘sucky’, but I was also contacted yesterday regarding a potential interview next week.

I concluded my day with 14 hours’ sleep, from which I woke this morning feeling… not really all that great but – dare I say it – a fair bit better than I have these past few days… weeks. Maybe that’s just my fake problems paling into insignificance in the face of other people’s proper ones, in which case it’s not really a good thing at all.

Anyway, wish me luck because today I’m braving some motorways to drive myself and two friends to somewhere relatively far away for the sake of another friend’s birthday. I can’t really afford this, but ages ago I said I would so now I have to.

eep.

~xx~

So

Everybody was out apart from me and the younger brother.

Bored of being alone, I decided to go downstairs and see where he was/what he was up to.

He was playing Call of Duty.

Online, with one of his friends from school. Y’know, complete with mics for chatting to each other about guns and grenades and all the rest.

(At this point, so that the next line makes sense I will point out that I barely slept last night).

After watching him play for a little while I got pretty bored, and curled up in a corner on a beanbag and snoozed.

I was woken by the continous sound of  a high-pitched voice coming from the gaming corner; brother’s friend’s little brother (aged 3) was with him, and asking him a million billion questions.

“What’s that? Is that you? Can I play? Why not? What does this button do? Why did he just do that? Who’s that? What’s he doing?…” etc, etc.

So, so cute.  ^.^

The best one, though, was;

- “What’s this? Can I use this?”

- “No, you haven’t got any facial hair”.

:’)

So yeah. That’s how my Tuesday has been made.

IWantOneOfThose 

For photos’ sake,

*snigger*

…

I give you my one of my bestest myspace-whore photos, (gleefully unearthed and mildly edited earlier today) showing what I made myself look like one time almost exactly 3 years ago today.

pahahaha. :’)

We’ll call this number 1 on the July Photo-a-Day Challenge list, and I’ll go from there?

(And though I’d like to say I’ve grown up a fair bit since then, I can’t promise that if you gave me a decent camera, a place with suitable lighting and a selection of makeup, I wouldn’t do it again).

~xx~