So this year put a lot of stuff in perspective for me. I've learnt a lot about myself. Not all good things but I'm working on that.
I'm learning that no matter how much you think you know someone they can still surprise you. And some of the time it won't be in a good way.
I've learnt that I hate society and all that it dictates. Fuck your ideals of what I should or should not do. If I want to go out get drunk, get fucked and generally mess my life up that's my choice. And if I DON'T want a proper job, or to get married, squeeze a couple bastards out, get divorced by the age of 40, have a mid-life crisis where I become a biker-dyke and die young(ish) and alone, leaving a bunch of debt and a mortgage to the little brats who ruined my life, that's my choice too, and fuck anyone who tells me I SHOULD be doing otherwise. Who decided that shit anyway?
I've learnt that I really am shit at "relationships". Well, I knew that before, but I've figured I really do not want to devote myself to someone. EVER. It just doesn't work, it's not in me. I hate being caged in and I get crazy. Whatever happened to the days where we used to just have fun and it was OK?
I've learnt not to listen to other people because the majority of them are full of shit. Be it jealousy, spite, or just pure stupidity a lot of people will do what they can to drag you down. And I ain't letting no motherfuckers make a dick out of me.
I've learnt that I'm not as big and strong as I like to think I am, although I never admit it and probably won't do anything about it. So fuck it in the arse.
I've learnt that as much as I fight with my family, (and even though they seem to hate me right at this very minute and I'm not too fond of them either) that they're the only family I have - and even though it seems we can't live together anymore that they will always be there for me, what's left of my family anyways.
I've learnt that funerals are a good way for your living family members to get together and criticize everything about you, which this time round has been a blessing because I've realised while I AM still alive I don't want to end up like ANY of them, and now is the time for me to get off my arse and do something about it.
I've also learnt that if I need to change something about my life now is the time to act, and there ain't no-one out there who is going to be able to help me, because the change is something I need to do for myself, and it will help me grow into the person that I eventually hope to be.
So to the people this year who have let me down, judged me, told me that I can't do shit, FUCK YOU! And watch this space motherfucker.
And to the people who are still there, no matter how much I try to push them away, to my friends (what little there are left) - old friends and new one, thankyou. I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me that you put up with my shit, my neuroses, my quirks. This is a new beginning for me.
And no I'm not in a shit mood, I'm just feeling blunt. No different from usual then eh?
2008 is going to be my year, ain't anyone going to stop me.
Monday 12 November 2007
Wednesday 24 October 2007
I'm Gonna Let Bob Do This One For Me
Go 'way from my window,
Leave at your own chosen speed.
I'm not the one you want, babe,
I'm not the one you need.
You say you're lookin' for someone
Never weak but always strong,
To protect you an' defend you
Whether you are right or wrong,
Someone to open each and every door,
But it ain't me, babe,No, no, no, it ain't me, babe,
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.
Go lightly from the ledge, babe,
Go lightly on the ground.
I'm not the one you want, babe,
I will only let you down.
You say you're lookin' for someone
Who will promise never to part,
Someone to close his eyes for you,
Someone to close his heart,
Someone who will die for you an' more,
But it ain't me, babe,No, no, no, it ain't me, babe,
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.
Go melt back into the night, babe,
Everything inside is made of stone.
There's nothing in here moving
An' anyway I'm not alone.
You say you're looking for someone
Who'll pick you up each time you fall,
To gather flowers constantly
An' to come each time you call,
A lover for your life an' nothing more,
But it ain't me, babe,No, no, no, it ain't me, babe,
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.
Leave at your own chosen speed.
I'm not the one you want, babe,
I'm not the one you need.
You say you're lookin' for someone
Never weak but always strong,
To protect you an' defend you
Whether you are right or wrong,
Someone to open each and every door,
But it ain't me, babe,No, no, no, it ain't me, babe,
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.
Go lightly from the ledge, babe,
Go lightly on the ground.
I'm not the one you want, babe,
I will only let you down.
You say you're lookin' for someone
Who will promise never to part,
Someone to close his eyes for you,
Someone to close his heart,
Someone who will die for you an' more,
But it ain't me, babe,No, no, no, it ain't me, babe,
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.
Go melt back into the night, babe,
Everything inside is made of stone.
There's nothing in here moving
An' anyway I'm not alone.
You say you're looking for someone
Who'll pick you up each time you fall,
To gather flowers constantly
An' to come each time you call,
A lover for your life an' nothing more,
But it ain't me, babe,No, no, no, it ain't me, babe,
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.
Tuesday 9 October 2007
10/10/2007
Today I'm reminded of the phrase "When it rains, it pours".
Yesterday I returned from California, where I spent the happiest 90 days of my life. I caught up with old friends who I love very much, and I made new friends who I also love, and I hope it isn't too long before I see them again.
Now at home I feel lost. So much has happened in the course of two days. I left behind a boyfriend, and some of the best friends I will ever have. I found out that my Grandad died while I was away. I came home to a house where I feel like a guest as I don't even have a bed to sleep in, but a nice sofa. Alone. And some other things that I don't even want to put down on paper, because I fear my heart will break.
Now the only thing I have to look forward to is a funeral, looking for another dead-end job, and well.... that's all I've thought through for now.
Looks like I'm in the same mess I was three months ago, only this time I feel I've lost a lot more. Sometimes I really do wish the world would swallow me up.
Yesterday I returned from California, where I spent the happiest 90 days of my life. I caught up with old friends who I love very much, and I made new friends who I also love, and I hope it isn't too long before I see them again.
Now at home I feel lost. So much has happened in the course of two days. I left behind a boyfriend, and some of the best friends I will ever have. I found out that my Grandad died while I was away. I came home to a house where I feel like a guest as I don't even have a bed to sleep in, but a nice sofa. Alone. And some other things that I don't even want to put down on paper, because I fear my heart will break.
Now the only thing I have to look forward to is a funeral, looking for another dead-end job, and well.... that's all I've thought through for now.
Looks like I'm in the same mess I was three months ago, only this time I feel I've lost a lot more. Sometimes I really do wish the world would swallow me up.
Saturday 6 October 2007
06/10/2007
Yet another sleepless early morning. I've got my problems whittled down to the fact that I'm just neurotic - there can be no other solution. Another morning of waking up at 5.30, cold and alone, and realising that my prettier half has yet again opted for a night on the sofa with a film, instead of coming to sleep next to me. And because I'm insane, it bothered me.
Most of the time when I have what I call "Night Crazies" I do stupid things. I send text messages that I later regret, or an email, sometimes even a song. There are other kinds of crazies too. I get what Sugar and I refer to as "Girl Crazies". Most of the time we like to think that we're not like other girls, but every so often usually when there's a member of the opposite sex in mind, we get "Girl Crazy". I'm not usually jealous, or possessive, or any of the other traits that girls can have when they are in a relationship, but occasionally something will shift and the girl in me will take over.
When the "Girl" and the "Night" crazies are combined it's a lethal combination, and is probably what's fuelling this very blog. No doubt I'll look back in a couple days I'll look back at this and think to myself how stupid I sound, with my girly little problems. I just get the feeling that one day they won't be crazies any more, but they might become a permanent resident in my head.
And God help the man who just so happens to be in my line of vision at that time.
Most of the time when I have what I call "Night Crazies" I do stupid things. I send text messages that I later regret, or an email, sometimes even a song. There are other kinds of crazies too. I get what Sugar and I refer to as "Girl Crazies". Most of the time we like to think that we're not like other girls, but every so often usually when there's a member of the opposite sex in mind, we get "Girl Crazy". I'm not usually jealous, or possessive, or any of the other traits that girls can have when they are in a relationship, but occasionally something will shift and the girl in me will take over.
When the "Girl" and the "Night" crazies are combined it's a lethal combination, and is probably what's fuelling this very blog. No doubt I'll look back in a couple days I'll look back at this and think to myself how stupid I sound, with my girly little problems. I just get the feeling that one day they won't be crazies any more, but they might become a permanent resident in my head.
And God help the man who just so happens to be in my line of vision at that time.
Saturday 15 September 2007
15/09/2007
It's 5;30am. At the moment the quest for sleep seems to be a never-ending struggle. Most of the time I dont mind. Sometimes I don't even want to sleep. There's just so many more productive things I could be doing with my life. Right now just happens not to be one of those times. Sometimes I wish time would just stand still so that I can just sit back and take everything in. Even for a moment. Sometimes I want time to stop altogether. Just to stop being. Not to die, but just to fade away. It's times like these where I want to sleep. Just put my weary head down and rest forvever. There's no feeling more frustrating than not being able to.
Today has been a day for long drawn out conversations. Today my two friends and I discussed religion and what it means to us. It's funny how when you meet new people from across the world they can have the same beliefs and ideas that you do, even when you have a completely different upbringing and background. It's also funny when you find out people you've known for years have a completely diffrent view. I was brought up at a Christian school, and although neither of my parents were religious I would take myself to church every Sunday. It was nice to have something to believe in, a group of people to belong to.
Another thing which intrigues me is how your beliefs change as you grow older. With time, I wouldn't say I have grown skeptical, but through my adolescent years I did pull away from my beliefs. I don't believe in a God per-say, but what I DO believe is that there is a higher being, a reason for our existence, and I also believe there is some form of after-life, be it reincarnation or another plane of existence. I find it hard to believe that we weren't made for some reason, that we were just blinked into existence, and that when we die that's it, and you're gone. I just find it very difficult to comprehend, however fantastical my ideas may seem.
I just finished watching a film an hour ago. A film where one of the most beautiful young women I have ever seen is dying of cancer, and her extremely handsome husband (who just so happens to be a doctor) is fighting to find a cure to keep her by his side forever. The dying wife, writes a story, which kind of acts as a side-story to the plot of the film, in which two warring countries are searching for the Tree of Life, which they believe (as Genesis depicts) was hidden by God after original sin. The Queen (played by the dying wife) of one of the countries sends her lover (the husband) to find it, so that they can live forever side by side.
Whilst watching the film my friend said to me that you can live forever through music, through art, through having children, through leaving things that make your mark on the world. But after time these things will diminish, new songs will be sung, new pictures will be painted, new children will be born. So what is the never-ending struggle for eternal life? Why are people so reluctant to give in to the inevitable?
I won't give away the ending, as I would highly recommend people to watch this film, but it really got me thinking about death, call me morbid, but it's something I think about a lot. In depth. I always thought that when my time comes I would welcome it. I'm not scared of dying, and I say it sincerely. I'm not afraid. I would like to live for a while, but if it came to it I would not leave kicking and screaming. I've always thought whatever happens, just happens, and I'm OK with it.
In little over three weeks I leave for home. I've been here almost three months, acheived very little and yet I am content with that, because I have a head full of experiences that I will never forget, and friends that I hope to keep in contact with forever. Forever though, is a very long time. In my life I have left a lot of people behind, people I miss, people I don't. I currently do not know of anyone I ever wish to forget. Right now is one of those times I wish to stand still. So I can take in all of their faces, every little word they say to me, all their little imperfections, all the small things that make them who they are. Because who knows when I'll see them next? Or if I'll see them again - we're not going to live forever.
It's 6:20am. No rest for the wicked...
Today has been a day for long drawn out conversations. Today my two friends and I discussed religion and what it means to us. It's funny how when you meet new people from across the world they can have the same beliefs and ideas that you do, even when you have a completely different upbringing and background. It's also funny when you find out people you've known for years have a completely diffrent view. I was brought up at a Christian school, and although neither of my parents were religious I would take myself to church every Sunday. It was nice to have something to believe in, a group of people to belong to.
Another thing which intrigues me is how your beliefs change as you grow older. With time, I wouldn't say I have grown skeptical, but through my adolescent years I did pull away from my beliefs. I don't believe in a God per-say, but what I DO believe is that there is a higher being, a reason for our existence, and I also believe there is some form of after-life, be it reincarnation or another plane of existence. I find it hard to believe that we weren't made for some reason, that we were just blinked into existence, and that when we die that's it, and you're gone. I just find it very difficult to comprehend, however fantastical my ideas may seem.
I just finished watching a film an hour ago. A film where one of the most beautiful young women I have ever seen is dying of cancer, and her extremely handsome husband (who just so happens to be a doctor) is fighting to find a cure to keep her by his side forever. The dying wife, writes a story, which kind of acts as a side-story to the plot of the film, in which two warring countries are searching for the Tree of Life, which they believe (as Genesis depicts) was hidden by God after original sin. The Queen (played by the dying wife) of one of the countries sends her lover (the husband) to find it, so that they can live forever side by side.
Whilst watching the film my friend said to me that you can live forever through music, through art, through having children, through leaving things that make your mark on the world. But after time these things will diminish, new songs will be sung, new pictures will be painted, new children will be born. So what is the never-ending struggle for eternal life? Why are people so reluctant to give in to the inevitable?
I won't give away the ending, as I would highly recommend people to watch this film, but it really got me thinking about death, call me morbid, but it's something I think about a lot. In depth. I always thought that when my time comes I would welcome it. I'm not scared of dying, and I say it sincerely. I'm not afraid. I would like to live for a while, but if it came to it I would not leave kicking and screaming. I've always thought whatever happens, just happens, and I'm OK with it.
In little over three weeks I leave for home. I've been here almost three months, acheived very little and yet I am content with that, because I have a head full of experiences that I will never forget, and friends that I hope to keep in contact with forever. Forever though, is a very long time. In my life I have left a lot of people behind, people I miss, people I don't. I currently do not know of anyone I ever wish to forget. Right now is one of those times I wish to stand still. So I can take in all of their faces, every little word they say to me, all their little imperfections, all the small things that make them who they are. Because who knows when I'll see them next? Or if I'll see them again - we're not going to live forever.
It's 6:20am. No rest for the wicked...
Friday 17 August 2007
16/08/2007
So as you may have guessed, it is with deep regret for myself to announce that two members of Dirty Cherry have gone their separate ways, thus leaving Sugar and myself to seek other options. I cannot say that I'm disappointed, because to me it's been a long time coming. When a group of people do not mesh well together you can all feel it, do your best to cover it up, but the outcome is inevitable. Although we will endeavor to find replacement musicians, we feel it is best to put the band on hiatus for a while, and to go at it with fresh eyes upon our return to London in October
Sunday 15 July 2007
15/07/2007
So I left the UK on Tuesday. To say the journey was eventful is a giant understatement. The first plane we took was from Gatwick to Philadelphia. After an eight hour flight and much disturbed sleep, we made it to the international visitiors desk, and after being separated for about half hour, and missing our flight Karin and I were reunited at the customs desk. I have to say the police in Philly were very through, you've got to give them that. After raping our luggage and interrogating us they sent us on our way without even an apology. Although there was a little ray of light when we got to the departure lounge and it turned out we hadn't missed our next flight - it had been delayed by four hours. So after a nice long wait and some lovely chinese chicken that resembled a cat, we finally got onto a flight to Vegas - where we had to wait five more hours for the next connecting flight to LA. After 33 hours of cross-Atlantic travel I can quite easily say I was knackered.
So after a day of catching up on sleep and lazing in the pool in an inflatable pirae ship, we then had the four hour drive up to Las Vegas. We stayed at a hotel called Treasure Island, where a JD and coke at the bar will cost you $7.50, and is served by a silver fox with a southern accent. "You probably get this all the time but yo look fifteen" - Yeah. Cheers. So anway, after polishing off two bottled of champagne, uncounted glasses of JD, going for a nice wander at 7am, coming back to the hotel room, getting in the tub half clothed, and tactically emptying the cotents of my stomach, I found a nice nestling place on the bathroom floor where I had a lovely sleep wrapped in a towel. I can safely say I love Vegas.
Now back in Orange County, I feel so relaxed and content for about the first time in months and I can't help but wonder what I'd be doing right now if I'd stayed in London. Probably would have taken the Music supervisor job. Or be sat at home thinking of a way of getting out of it. God bless America
So after a day of catching up on sleep and lazing in the pool in an inflatable pirae ship, we then had the four hour drive up to Las Vegas. We stayed at a hotel called Treasure Island, where a JD and coke at the bar will cost you $7.50, and is served by a silver fox with a southern accent. "You probably get this all the time but yo look fifteen" - Yeah. Cheers. So anway, after polishing off two bottled of champagne, uncounted glasses of JD, going for a nice wander at 7am, coming back to the hotel room, getting in the tub half clothed, and tactically emptying the cotents of my stomach, I found a nice nestling place on the bathroom floor where I had a lovely sleep wrapped in a towel. I can safely say I love Vegas.
Now back in Orange County, I feel so relaxed and content for about the first time in months and I can't help but wonder what I'd be doing right now if I'd stayed in London. Probably would have taken the Music supervisor job. Or be sat at home thinking of a way of getting out of it. God bless America
Friday 22 June 2007
I had THE weirdest dream last night
Basically I lived in a community, that lived in a field in tents (kind of like Download only without music), and at the side of this field was this big mansion where we would all commune in the evenings, and I lived with people that I hardly see or have never even met, although I do remember Karin being in the first part of the dream, and running with me
The first part of the dream didn't really freak me out, but well let's just say there were tigers and I had to run into the mansion to stop them from mauling me in my tent at night
But the main bit that freaked me out was the fact that every day at a different time, I would randomly pass out and wake up in this warehouse, because some guy who I work with (in real life) had kidnapped me somehow, and I would have to do a task to get out. It was like a cross between Pat Sharp's Fun House and the movie Saw. I couldn't look at my colleague straight today...
Like in this one instance I was in said warehouse and along the side walls there was like little houses and shops, and a big water mill at the back and every so often this cloudy bluey green water would come flowing out at me and settle, then come rushing out again, and I would be struggling and choking on the water. And I could hear his voice telling me I had to escape, but it just made me struggle even more
I'm not too sure about how I got out of that. I must have done somehow though, because the last thing about the dream I remember was trying to re-dye my hair, and the brown layer turning blond, and the blond layer turning brown, and then there being a ginger layer in between the two so I looked like a tiger. I was looking in this mirror trying to smooth this bucket of dye through my hair and crying because it was all going wrong. And then I ran into my bedroom, and my bath was where my bed should be, then I was frantically trying to empty my bath of toys and bras and stuff, so I could get the dye out of hair quickly
I have to say it's up there with the weirdest dreams I've ever had. I wish it I knew what it meant. And don't suggest that it means I'm crazy because that's pretty much a given!!
The first part of the dream didn't really freak me out, but well let's just say there were tigers and I had to run into the mansion to stop them from mauling me in my tent at night
But the main bit that freaked me out was the fact that every day at a different time, I would randomly pass out and wake up in this warehouse, because some guy who I work with (in real life) had kidnapped me somehow, and I would have to do a task to get out. It was like a cross between Pat Sharp's Fun House and the movie Saw. I couldn't look at my colleague straight today...
Like in this one instance I was in said warehouse and along the side walls there was like little houses and shops, and a big water mill at the back and every so often this cloudy bluey green water would come flowing out at me and settle, then come rushing out again, and I would be struggling and choking on the water. And I could hear his voice telling me I had to escape, but it just made me struggle even more
I'm not too sure about how I got out of that. I must have done somehow though, because the last thing about the dream I remember was trying to re-dye my hair, and the brown layer turning blond, and the blond layer turning brown, and then there being a ginger layer in between the two so I looked like a tiger. I was looking in this mirror trying to smooth this bucket of dye through my hair and crying because it was all going wrong. And then I ran into my bedroom, and my bath was where my bed should be, then I was frantically trying to empty my bath of toys and bras and stuff, so I could get the dye out of hair quickly
I have to say it's up there with the weirdest dreams I've ever had. I wish it I knew what it meant. And don't suggest that it means I'm crazy because that's pretty much a given!!
Saturday 2 June 2007
Fuck it all in the arse
As each day passes I get the increasing feeling that nobody actually gives a fuck about anyone except themselves, and that perhaps I let people walk over me a little too much. I'm always the first to lend a shoulder to cry on, a fiver to the person in need, an ear for the general complaints. But I'm noticing more and more that this is not as reciprocated as I always thought it was.
I have to just clear things up first. My girls are not included in this. They are my rocks, and without them I would be surely lost. And even though I tend not to ask for the shoulder, the fiver, the ear, I know it would be there if I ever did need/want it.
Unfortunately I perhaps have been a little too generous, and my resources are becoming more and more limited. Not only is it tiresome always being there for everybody, but I have no evidence to show that other people would do the same for me. Even with people I have never met, I seem to care about them, which is absolute bullshit. A point which is becoming evermore clear with every passing second.
I can't seem to decide whether it is other people who have changed, becoming more demanding with their little problems and peeves, or whether it is I, maybe becoming more wise to the ulterior motives and duplicity - or maybe I'm just becoming more cynical with age. It's impossible to tell, and improbable that I will ever know.
This past week has pointed out to me more than ever that there is nothing left for me here. Every few years I go through a phase. Maybe it's boredom, I can't be sure, but I get the urge to change every little thing in my life. I change my hair, my job, it even goes as far as my circle of friends. Unfortunately all of these changes have already been made within the last year and there is nowhere left for me to run. Which is essentially what it all boils down to. Escapism.
The only word I can use to describe my life right now is stale. I open my eyes in the morning, same room. I walk out my front door, same council estate. I go to work, same dead end job. I go out at night, same old assholes frequenting the same old bars drinking the same old whiskey, playing the same old music. I come home drunk, the fight to get my key in the front door, search for the landing light, the old lumpy bed. I could go on and on and on, just like every other damn thing that ceases to change in my life.
I plan to run away. Start afresh. New sights, new smells, new people. My only fear right now is what if those too become stale. Then what do I have left? Come back to my past stale life, stay in the present stale life, or keep running, in the hope that I finally end up somewhere right for me.
So back to my original point. I made a decision this evening. After taking a sip from the same old Jack Daniels, and sitting by the same old phone, waiting for the same old friends (who manage to let me down every time no matter how much I bust my ass to keep them happy) - the same old disappointment. I decided to fuck it all. Why should I always put my neck on the line to make sure that everyone else is happy, when no other fucker can bother their arse for me? I always have this front, this bravado, this act like I don't give a fuck. Maybe I don't care. Maybe I care too much. Yet another thing I can never be sure of.
Kears once said to me that most writers have a fear of leaving their work unconcluded, and that I have a tendency to leave my work in it's unfinished state. I agree to a certain extent. But I also disagree. In this world I really find it hard to be certain of anything at all. You never know what is going to happen from day to day. So maybe my disconlcusion, is actually a conclusion in disguise. My lack of being able to finish things off, is simply just because I don't believe you can ever conclude anything. It's like the eternal search for happiness. When you finally achieve true happiness, what have you left to strive for? What have you got left to work towards when you've achieved all your goals? (and yes I do realise I may have just made a few words up there, but fuck that too).
If only I could figure out what it is I am striving for in the first place, then I'd perhaps know where it is I am heading.
I have to just clear things up first. My girls are not included in this. They are my rocks, and without them I would be surely lost. And even though I tend not to ask for the shoulder, the fiver, the ear, I know it would be there if I ever did need/want it.
Unfortunately I perhaps have been a little too generous, and my resources are becoming more and more limited. Not only is it tiresome always being there for everybody, but I have no evidence to show that other people would do the same for me. Even with people I have never met, I seem to care about them, which is absolute bullshit. A point which is becoming evermore clear with every passing second.
I can't seem to decide whether it is other people who have changed, becoming more demanding with their little problems and peeves, or whether it is I, maybe becoming more wise to the ulterior motives and duplicity - or maybe I'm just becoming more cynical with age. It's impossible to tell, and improbable that I will ever know.
This past week has pointed out to me more than ever that there is nothing left for me here. Every few years I go through a phase. Maybe it's boredom, I can't be sure, but I get the urge to change every little thing in my life. I change my hair, my job, it even goes as far as my circle of friends. Unfortunately all of these changes have already been made within the last year and there is nowhere left for me to run. Which is essentially what it all boils down to. Escapism.
The only word I can use to describe my life right now is stale. I open my eyes in the morning, same room. I walk out my front door, same council estate. I go to work, same dead end job. I go out at night, same old assholes frequenting the same old bars drinking the same old whiskey, playing the same old music. I come home drunk, the fight to get my key in the front door, search for the landing light, the old lumpy bed. I could go on and on and on, just like every other damn thing that ceases to change in my life.
I plan to run away. Start afresh. New sights, new smells, new people. My only fear right now is what if those too become stale. Then what do I have left? Come back to my past stale life, stay in the present stale life, or keep running, in the hope that I finally end up somewhere right for me.
So back to my original point. I made a decision this evening. After taking a sip from the same old Jack Daniels, and sitting by the same old phone, waiting for the same old friends (who manage to let me down every time no matter how much I bust my ass to keep them happy) - the same old disappointment. I decided to fuck it all. Why should I always put my neck on the line to make sure that everyone else is happy, when no other fucker can bother their arse for me? I always have this front, this bravado, this act like I don't give a fuck. Maybe I don't care. Maybe I care too much. Yet another thing I can never be sure of.
Kears once said to me that most writers have a fear of leaving their work unconcluded, and that I have a tendency to leave my work in it's unfinished state. I agree to a certain extent. But I also disagree. In this world I really find it hard to be certain of anything at all. You never know what is going to happen from day to day. So maybe my disconlcusion, is actually a conclusion in disguise. My lack of being able to finish things off, is simply just because I don't believe you can ever conclude anything. It's like the eternal search for happiness. When you finally achieve true happiness, what have you left to strive for? What have you got left to work towards when you've achieved all your goals? (and yes I do realise I may have just made a few words up there, but fuck that too).
If only I could figure out what it is I am striving for in the first place, then I'd perhaps know where it is I am heading.
Wednesday 18 April 2007
7 Things...
I was going to post this as a bulletin on MySpace, but I don't want loads of people who I don't give a fuck about reading this, and trying to work out who it is for and knowing my damn business. I know the important people will see that I've written something and will take about five minutes from their busy lives and will know which bit is for them
BODY:
Write 7 things to 7 different people. Keep it anonymous and be honest.
1. You are my best friend in the world. Ever. I know sometimes we clash, and I know sometimes we don't speak for what (to me anyway) feels like forever. And I know when we finally get all this shit out of the way and get ourselves sorted, that you are the only person who will have problems with what I do or say. And too fucking right. Because you are the one and only person whose opinion I really give a fuck about. You are my soul mate and I fucking love you. Now get your shit sorted so we can get the fuck out of here
2.You would be my best friend in the world ever. But you're too damn far away. And now it looks like it's going to be even longer until we are finally raising hell again together, and I don't blame you. It's been a tough time for the both of us, and we haven't been there for each other as much as we should have. And neither of us are to blame more than the other, because we're both too laid back for our own good. And I'm sorry if I give you shit all the time, when you're upset and miserable, but you really need to just snap out of it. I care too damn much about you to see you fuck another year up, so sort yourself out. Because I love you, and I don't want it to be yet ANOTHER year before we're back up to our old tricks again - and come and see me this summer damnit!!! It could be a while until we're together again
3. You are the biggest cunt ever. And I love you for it. And I can't wait until we get all our stuff sorted and can jam together properly, because it's going to get messy. Yes yes. But I'm really worried about you. The other day when we were out, you were so fucked, and I'm hoping this isn't a regular occurrence, because I hate to say it, you're starting to remind me of me when I was fucked up, and doing shit like that because I needed help. Just doing stupid stuff, for either attention, or for an escape. And I'm sorry but it's fucking stupid. I don't mind you doing this shit, but you really need to tone it down, it really isn't doing you any good, and I'm worried that one of us lot isn't going to be there and some bad shit is going to happen to you. Because trust me, talking from experience, there are dickheads out there who are going to take advantage of a girl in that state, and it's fucked up. You could end up in hospital, or even fucking worse. And I just don't even want to think about that. I hate to sound like an old nag, but I really do worry about you. Cunt!!
4. I haven't known you that long bitch, but from the time we spent together, I already feel like I know you so well. You're like the little sister I always dreamed I had (I know I've got one but she hates me). I know you've been through shit, - and I'm going to say it again, but I can see so much of myself in you it's fucking unreal. I just want you to know that I'm fucking there for you, and you can ring me anytime, anywhere, even if it's just for something stupid like to say hi or vent or whatever. Because we're going to fuck shit up. You're one of those people who you meet, and you instantly just get along with, and the stuff we write together I know is going to be fucking sick because we just think the same, which is why I trust my work in your sleazy little hands. Let's get fucking messy
5. I'm sorry. Sorry for having to leave you behind with all this shit. I want to be there for these important years. Because these years will be important and determine most of the years to come. But this is something I have to do for myself, because I'm at a point in my life where I just don't know what I want to do or where I'm going, and I hope that you understand that. You're probably the least likely to read this, simply because I know you hate reading ha ha. But let me tell you this, I will always be at the other end of a phoneline if you need me. And if you want when the summer comes you can even fly out for a bit, and we'll jam together, or go surfing and shit. I hate leaving you behind, in fact you are the only person I will really miss, because you are absolutely wicked. It's been a tough year for both of us, and I know shit isn't that great right now. But you have to look after the others for me, because I don't even know what is going to happen this summer, if things go well I'm not going to be around much, I'll probably be travelling a hell of a lot. Maybe you can come with me ha ha
6. (This is for a group of people, but it's not cheating!!!) You are the best people in the world, that I could have possibly ever met. You make me laugh on a daily basis, whenever I'm down one of you always manages to pick me right up. Whether it's KK and his amazing chats. Or Papa Bear and his awesome hugs and random (often pornographic - which is GREAT!!!) drawings. Or Old Man Fewery and his grumpy rants or our talks about TV soaps. Or DW and his spastic dancing and superhero fixation. I could go on forever. Because you all mean so much to me, and I hate the fact that I'm leaving you behind, because you really have made this year bearable, and sometimes enjoyable ha ha. I'll send you a postcard maybe
7. Last and definately not least. In fact probably the most
You know who you are. And I'm going to spare all the mushy talk, because you know how I feel about you. I'm just going to post this and hope that you understand how I feel:
Shed a tear 'cause I'm missing you
I'm still alright to smile
I think about you every day now
Was a time when I wasn't sure
But you set my mind at ease
There is no doubt you're in my heart now
Said woman take it slow
It'll work itself out fine
All we need is just a little patience
Said sugar make it slow
And we'll come together fine
All we need is just a little patience
Sit here on the stairs
'Cause I'd rather be alone
If I can't have you right now,
I'll wait dear
Sometimes, I get so tense
But I can't speed up the time
But you know, love, there's one more thing to consider
Said woman take it slow
Things will be just fine
You and I'll just use a little patience
Said sugar take the time
'Cause the lights are shining bright
You and I've got what it takes to make it
We won't fake it,
Oh never break it'
Cause I can't take it...
Need a little patience
I've been walking these streets at night
Just trying to get it right (Need some patience, yeah)
It's hard to see with so many around
You know I don't like being stuck in a crowd (Could use some patience, yeah)
And the streets don't change but maybe the name
I ain't got time for the game
'Cause I need you
BODY:
Write 7 things to 7 different people. Keep it anonymous and be honest.
1. You are my best friend in the world. Ever. I know sometimes we clash, and I know sometimes we don't speak for what (to me anyway) feels like forever. And I know when we finally get all this shit out of the way and get ourselves sorted, that you are the only person who will have problems with what I do or say. And too fucking right. Because you are the one and only person whose opinion I really give a fuck about. You are my soul mate and I fucking love you. Now get your shit sorted so we can get the fuck out of here
2.You would be my best friend in the world ever. But you're too damn far away. And now it looks like it's going to be even longer until we are finally raising hell again together, and I don't blame you. It's been a tough time for the both of us, and we haven't been there for each other as much as we should have. And neither of us are to blame more than the other, because we're both too laid back for our own good. And I'm sorry if I give you shit all the time, when you're upset and miserable, but you really need to just snap out of it. I care too damn much about you to see you fuck another year up, so sort yourself out. Because I love you, and I don't want it to be yet ANOTHER year before we're back up to our old tricks again - and come and see me this summer damnit!!! It could be a while until we're together again
3. You are the biggest cunt ever. And I love you for it. And I can't wait until we get all our stuff sorted and can jam together properly, because it's going to get messy. Yes yes. But I'm really worried about you. The other day when we were out, you were so fucked, and I'm hoping this isn't a regular occurrence, because I hate to say it, you're starting to remind me of me when I was fucked up, and doing shit like that because I needed help. Just doing stupid stuff, for either attention, or for an escape. And I'm sorry but it's fucking stupid. I don't mind you doing this shit, but you really need to tone it down, it really isn't doing you any good, and I'm worried that one of us lot isn't going to be there and some bad shit is going to happen to you. Because trust me, talking from experience, there are dickheads out there who are going to take advantage of a girl in that state, and it's fucked up. You could end up in hospital, or even fucking worse. And I just don't even want to think about that. I hate to sound like an old nag, but I really do worry about you. Cunt!!
4. I haven't known you that long bitch, but from the time we spent together, I already feel like I know you so well. You're like the little sister I always dreamed I had (I know I've got one but she hates me). I know you've been through shit, - and I'm going to say it again, but I can see so much of myself in you it's fucking unreal. I just want you to know that I'm fucking there for you, and you can ring me anytime, anywhere, even if it's just for something stupid like to say hi or vent or whatever. Because we're going to fuck shit up. You're one of those people who you meet, and you instantly just get along with, and the stuff we write together I know is going to be fucking sick because we just think the same, which is why I trust my work in your sleazy little hands. Let's get fucking messy
5. I'm sorry. Sorry for having to leave you behind with all this shit. I want to be there for these important years. Because these years will be important and determine most of the years to come. But this is something I have to do for myself, because I'm at a point in my life where I just don't know what I want to do or where I'm going, and I hope that you understand that. You're probably the least likely to read this, simply because I know you hate reading ha ha. But let me tell you this, I will always be at the other end of a phoneline if you need me. And if you want when the summer comes you can even fly out for a bit, and we'll jam together, or go surfing and shit. I hate leaving you behind, in fact you are the only person I will really miss, because you are absolutely wicked. It's been a tough year for both of us, and I know shit isn't that great right now. But you have to look after the others for me, because I don't even know what is going to happen this summer, if things go well I'm not going to be around much, I'll probably be travelling a hell of a lot. Maybe you can come with me ha ha
6. (This is for a group of people, but it's not cheating!!!) You are the best people in the world, that I could have possibly ever met. You make me laugh on a daily basis, whenever I'm down one of you always manages to pick me right up. Whether it's KK and his amazing chats. Or Papa Bear and his awesome hugs and random (often pornographic - which is GREAT!!!) drawings. Or Old Man Fewery and his grumpy rants or our talks about TV soaps. Or DW and his spastic dancing and superhero fixation. I could go on forever. Because you all mean so much to me, and I hate the fact that I'm leaving you behind, because you really have made this year bearable, and sometimes enjoyable ha ha. I'll send you a postcard maybe
7. Last and definately not least. In fact probably the most
You know who you are. And I'm going to spare all the mushy talk, because you know how I feel about you. I'm just going to post this and hope that you understand how I feel:
Shed a tear 'cause I'm missing you
I'm still alright to smile
I think about you every day now
Was a time when I wasn't sure
But you set my mind at ease
There is no doubt you're in my heart now
Said woman take it slow
It'll work itself out fine
All we need is just a little patience
Said sugar make it slow
And we'll come together fine
All we need is just a little patience
Sit here on the stairs
'Cause I'd rather be alone
If I can't have you right now,
I'll wait dear
Sometimes, I get so tense
But I can't speed up the time
But you know, love, there's one more thing to consider
Said woman take it slow
Things will be just fine
You and I'll just use a little patience
Said sugar take the time
'Cause the lights are shining bright
You and I've got what it takes to make it
We won't fake it,
Oh never break it'
Cause I can't take it...
Need a little patience
I've been walking these streets at night
Just trying to get it right (Need some patience, yeah)
It's hard to see with so many around
You know I don't like being stuck in a crowd (Could use some patience, yeah)
And the streets don't change but maybe the name
I ain't got time for the game
'Cause I need you
Friday 6 April 2007
I've probably said all of this before
I want to move to California
Don't get me wrong, I love London. I'm a London girl and I always will be. It runs in my veins and always will until the day I draw my last smoggy, polluted breath, but there's something about Califonria that makes me feel like I belong there.
I have a habit of losing track of time, even when I don't want to. It just has a habit of slipping away. If you asked me a question about what happened in the first sixteen years of my life I could tell you things like the carpet in the first house I lived in (black and white key tooth), or the perfume that my mother used to wear when I was born (Anais Anais), but other than those minuscule details, I got nothing. Everything just seems to slip through my fingers, if I try to make attempts to try to portray a certain scenario to someone, conversations disappear even as I'm talking. The images are still strong, and I do have some memories, but regretfully a lot of them I'd rather forget. Yet sometimes late at night when I finally get to rest instead of sleep I write, and it feels as if I’m writing about someone else. Which in a way I am. I'm not the gangly, lanky, seemingly two-dimensional girl I used to be. My hair seems to get shorter by the minute, I hate people touching my hair, but I get ever more daring with it as time goes. My tattoo and plans for more, I hope to become a colourful canvas. But it’s not the outside of this girl that is so much different. It’s the inside. Which is why I think it's time for a change of scenery
I don’t care for sleep all that much. Perhaps I'm scared I'll miss something, but ultimately it's in the wee small hours of the morning that I get all my best work done. My mind empties of all the trivial problems that seem to bother me when the sun is up. Sometimes after dark I can get a little edgy, and frankly I get crazy sometimes, and at these times it's advisable to switch my phone off, because I get a tendency to become brutally honest, and yet somewhat paranoid (that's years of drug abuse catching up with me). But I still maintain the saying I seem to repeat at least once every day: "I'll sleep when I'm dead". Every so often I'll burn the candle at both ends and I'll end up locked away from the outside world for a week or so, feeling a bit sorry for myself, but I love looking at the clock at 4 a.m. and knowing that the rest of the world is silent and still. And that whatever mischief I may be getting into, that the chances are no-one else is doing it.
Last November my girls and I went to California, and it was the best two weeks of my life (so far that is!), besides meeting so many amazing people and feeling so welcome in somewhere that is so different from where I was brought up. Just small things like walking down Sunset Boulevard at 3am after being accosted at a Concert and talking to random rockers in the street, going to a diner at 5am after a gig and getting some breakfast with one of the coolest, worldly-wise men I have met and him showing us how to tip our waitresses properly, or drinking tequila at 7am and watching four day Star Wars marathon, I know that California is the place for me.
A place where the lights never go out. How comforting is that to someone who doesn’t like to sleep?
Don't get me wrong, I love London. I'm a London girl and I always will be. It runs in my veins and always will until the day I draw my last smoggy, polluted breath, but there's something about Califonria that makes me feel like I belong there.
I have a habit of losing track of time, even when I don't want to. It just has a habit of slipping away. If you asked me a question about what happened in the first sixteen years of my life I could tell you things like the carpet in the first house I lived in (black and white key tooth), or the perfume that my mother used to wear when I was born (Anais Anais), but other than those minuscule details, I got nothing. Everything just seems to slip through my fingers, if I try to make attempts to try to portray a certain scenario to someone, conversations disappear even as I'm talking. The images are still strong, and I do have some memories, but regretfully a lot of them I'd rather forget. Yet sometimes late at night when I finally get to rest instead of sleep I write, and it feels as if I’m writing about someone else. Which in a way I am. I'm not the gangly, lanky, seemingly two-dimensional girl I used to be. My hair seems to get shorter by the minute, I hate people touching my hair, but I get ever more daring with it as time goes. My tattoo and plans for more, I hope to become a colourful canvas. But it’s not the outside of this girl that is so much different. It’s the inside. Which is why I think it's time for a change of scenery
I don’t care for sleep all that much. Perhaps I'm scared I'll miss something, but ultimately it's in the wee small hours of the morning that I get all my best work done. My mind empties of all the trivial problems that seem to bother me when the sun is up. Sometimes after dark I can get a little edgy, and frankly I get crazy sometimes, and at these times it's advisable to switch my phone off, because I get a tendency to become brutally honest, and yet somewhat paranoid (that's years of drug abuse catching up with me). But I still maintain the saying I seem to repeat at least once every day: "I'll sleep when I'm dead". Every so often I'll burn the candle at both ends and I'll end up locked away from the outside world for a week or so, feeling a bit sorry for myself, but I love looking at the clock at 4 a.m. and knowing that the rest of the world is silent and still. And that whatever mischief I may be getting into, that the chances are no-one else is doing it.
Last November my girls and I went to California, and it was the best two weeks of my life (so far that is!), besides meeting so many amazing people and feeling so welcome in somewhere that is so different from where I was brought up. Just small things like walking down Sunset Boulevard at 3am after being accosted at a Concert and talking to random rockers in the street, going to a diner at 5am after a gig and getting some breakfast with one of the coolest, worldly-wise men I have met and him showing us how to tip our waitresses properly, or drinking tequila at 7am and watching four day Star Wars marathon, I know that California is the place for me.
A place where the lights never go out. How comforting is that to someone who doesn’t like to sleep?
Thursday 29 March 2007
Edge of Oblivion
I'm going out to California for three months so I can spend that backend of my summer there. But it was recently pointed out to me that, yes I will have an awesome time, and yes it will be so worth it, for my own personal growth and that of my band, although there doesn't really seem like there will be anything for me to come back to. No job, no money left, a family that doesn't really like me. In other words, I'm completely fucked. I hate having such a bitter frame of mind about the whole situation, but I just can't help myself. Because it's true
Thursday 22 March 2007
Long Distance "Relationships"
I said I wasn't going to write a blog today. Well, I lied... This is very long so please bare with me!
I've had the incredible urge to just write for the past few days. I HAVE put this urge to some good use by adding to my increasing list of lyrical attempts, but for the main part I feel I need to get a few things off my chest. Surely if I I write them down I'll be able to get some sort of visual on the situation and maybe draw my crisis to a conclusion
In various other posts I have written about my "quarter life crisis" (as Kears refers to it) and how my job seems to be the main contributor. This is in fact not a lie, but an embellishment on the truth. This is quite difficult for me to air, so bare with me, I hate talking about this shit, more than I hate feeling it
Picture the scene, three loud London girls, stumbling into a rather large house in this rather posh gated community, Orange County, California (one that you would in visage on a show like Cribs), taking over and just causing general havoc for a few days. First night we were there I got trashed, and I mean blotto. I've never been that drunk, and I haven't been since. I get drunk a lot, but I'm talking off my face to the point where I can't remember what I did for most of the evening. Luckily the guys we were staying with were pretty stand up guys, and they looked after us a treat. I honestly couldn't imagine my life without them now. Probably the greatest guys I know in the whole world. So that's where I met him. The guy who's fucked up in my entire life. Not in a bad way. I'll explain a bit more as we go on
After that first night I have no idea why he came back to the house, he was supposed to go to San Fran for the weekend or something, but he gave it a miss. I vaguely remember talking to him about my art and stuff, but I must have made such an extreme tit out of myself, to the point where if someone was like that with me I would have run a mile. I remember some singing to Skid Row at the top of my lungs, which hurt like fuck the next day so it must have been loud. I remember looking disgusting - we'd just stayed at a hotel in Hollywood for two days, been at a Motley Crue gig the night before and must have got about an hours sleep. My hair was greasy and I was just wearing my Hooters top and some jeans. I'm talking new realms of disgusting. And I also remember some vomiting. Apparantly he spoke to me in the bathroom, and he brought me a glass of water, so he probably saw that part. Good start...
When he walked in at the beginning of the evening I was blown away. Beautiful hair, big brown eyes, slim build. Love it. I didn't think I stood a chance. This stunning OC guy could have had any pick of all the tan, blonde, chirpy girls in California.
I'm not good at making the first move. Ever. It's not so much the feeling of rejection I fear, because everyone knows I pretty much don't give a fuck about whether people like me or not. It's more the fear of the unknown. What if he says yes? Relationships have never been my forte. I hate guys when they get too clingy, but when they aren't showing enough interest I start to wonder if I've done something wrong. I hate jealousy. I hate possessiveness.
All the traits my first boyfriend had. He made me quit drinking, smoking, drugs, self-harm. Any of my vices, you name it, I quit it. For which I am grateful. Seriously. Without that push only God knows where I'd be right now. Probably dead. Or worse. But he was too possessive. All my friends at the time were guys. Simply because girls are bitches. So he thought I was sleeping with every guy I talked to. He wanted to spend every second of every damn day with me, always round my house, which was difficult for me, I never let people in my house unless I completely trust them. Which takes a lot. He'd made me quit every form of outlet I had, and at the time I was going through A LOT of shit. In the end I felt so suffocated and trapped I had to sabotage it. So I set up a situation where I knew he'd accuse me of sleeping with my best friend, thus sparking off an arguement giving me a reason to get rid. And I did it. It took a three hour arguement in the rain to finally get him to leave me alone, but I did it. Call me vindictive, call me what you like. It's true, I was a complete bitch to him. I was sixteen and naive, and I do sometimes feel a little guilt about it, but I just couldn't be this perfect life form that he was seeking.
As for my next bloke. I wanted him because he was a complete fucker to me. But I loved it. I could throw all my shit at him and he would throw it right back. We matched each other in how fucked up we were, which was also good, because at the time no-one else would have put up with either of us. Let's just say in the end, we just fucked each other up even more. He cheated on me with my best friend, and I was back on the drink and self-harm. Along with all the shit I was going through at home and all the bullying at school, he just couldn't be the guy I wanted. The guy I needed to save me. So one day we just stopped talking. We didn't even discuss not talking, it just happened. Soon after he left school, and we never spoke again. Actually I lie, we bumped into each other at a gig in a local pub, and we reminisced for a bit, until his new girlfriend got the hump and dragged him away. All the guys I've stumbled by since have been no better. Although, I have no bad feelings toward any of my ex's. I learnt something from all of them, as I think they did from me.
Back to the point. So I spent the four days in the OC with these guys, just hanging out and other general merriment. Mainly drinking and eating steak. I don't think I left the sofa other than to go to Disney Land (and the bathroom) in the entire four days we were there. Why? That's where HE was. This guy totally captivated me. He'd say things, really unimportant things, but things that I would say to other people. Back home. 5000 miles away. It was uncanny how I'd found a parallel to myself on the other side of the world and I couldn't even find one back home. The only guy I know who will put up with a four day Star Wars marathon, stay up all night talking with me about random shit, and let me slap them in the face without kicking my ass. Plus he had this stare that was just penetrating, like he was staring into my soul. Not to mention his sexy-ass voice. He has impeccable taste in music, which is extremely important to me. I knew he was a keeper.
To say I was gutted at the end of the four days was an understatement. It meant I was going back to Hollywood, and only God knew when I would be seeing him again. Funnily enough, I saw him pretty much every day, and when we got a text a few days before we were due to go home saying that the guys were taking us back to the OC to spend our last night with them I was absolutely stoked. I'd managed to keep a certain amount of restraint for the whole holiday, and I was going to grab my chance while I still had it. And I did. We stayed up all night again - I'm not one to kiss and tell so let's leave it at that.
I went home that afternoon. I can safely say I was heartbroken. I cried as the plane took off. But so did the other girls so I managed to shrug it off. I hardly knew this guy, had known him little over a week, yet I was completely taken by him. We've kept in contact. When my phone bill leapt up to nearly 150 pounds, I finally figured how to use my email on my phone
Here in lies my dilemma. Technically we're not in a relationship. That would be impossible. The distance is killing me as it is, let alone making the damn thing official, and I don't even know if he knows about my feelings, let alone mirrors them. But I know being without him is not where I want to be. I've never felt this way about a guy before. He just understands me, and it's easy. I'm not always having to explain my actions, I don't have to tell him exactly where I am all the time. Sure he doesn't know every little thing about me, he certainly doesn't know about my past yet (I learnt my lesson about telling too much from the previous two guys ^^^), but I know I could probably tell him and he wouldn't judge me for it, or run a mile, like so many previous other guys. I know he's not perfect, far from it, in fact I don't know everything about him either, but I love everything I do know, and I can't wait to learn the rest.
I'm not usually one of the crazy "love me, define me" kind of girls. As Sugar so often says "we're strong like wildebeest". Only the longer I'm without him, the weaker I feel. Hence going back to this "quarter-life crisis" malarkey. I can literally feel myself changing into one of these girls. I want to email him all the time, I want to tell him I love him - I want to tell EVERYONE I love him. It's just not like me at all. And I hate it. I hate being one of those girls that I look at, and I judge because they're lives revolve around their bloke. But now, I get up and the first thing I do is check my email inbox, and if it's empty I feel like calling in sick and staying in bed all day. I check it every chance I get at work, just in case. I'll stay up all night emailing him, because I never know when I'll get the chance to speak to him next. When I get up in the morning he's just going to bed, so I dread the first eight hours of the day when I won't hear from him.
It's absolutely mentalist behaviour. I know it is. I can see myself doing it. And what's worse is I get the distinct impression that he's going to get tired of me. And then where will I be and what will I have left?
I've had the incredible urge to just write for the past few days. I HAVE put this urge to some good use by adding to my increasing list of lyrical attempts, but for the main part I feel I need to get a few things off my chest. Surely if I I write them down I'll be able to get some sort of visual on the situation and maybe draw my crisis to a conclusion
In various other posts I have written about my "quarter life crisis" (as Kears refers to it) and how my job seems to be the main contributor. This is in fact not a lie, but an embellishment on the truth. This is quite difficult for me to air, so bare with me, I hate talking about this shit, more than I hate feeling it
Picture the scene, three loud London girls, stumbling into a rather large house in this rather posh gated community, Orange County, California (one that you would in visage on a show like Cribs), taking over and just causing general havoc for a few days. First night we were there I got trashed, and I mean blotto. I've never been that drunk, and I haven't been since. I get drunk a lot, but I'm talking off my face to the point where I can't remember what I did for most of the evening. Luckily the guys we were staying with were pretty stand up guys, and they looked after us a treat. I honestly couldn't imagine my life without them now. Probably the greatest guys I know in the whole world. So that's where I met him. The guy who's fucked up in my entire life. Not in a bad way. I'll explain a bit more as we go on
After that first night I have no idea why he came back to the house, he was supposed to go to San Fran for the weekend or something, but he gave it a miss. I vaguely remember talking to him about my art and stuff, but I must have made such an extreme tit out of myself, to the point where if someone was like that with me I would have run a mile. I remember some singing to Skid Row at the top of my lungs, which hurt like fuck the next day so it must have been loud. I remember looking disgusting - we'd just stayed at a hotel in Hollywood for two days, been at a Motley Crue gig the night before and must have got about an hours sleep. My hair was greasy and I was just wearing my Hooters top and some jeans. I'm talking new realms of disgusting. And I also remember some vomiting. Apparantly he spoke to me in the bathroom, and he brought me a glass of water, so he probably saw that part. Good start...
When he walked in at the beginning of the evening I was blown away. Beautiful hair, big brown eyes, slim build. Love it. I didn't think I stood a chance. This stunning OC guy could have had any pick of all the tan, blonde, chirpy girls in California.
I'm not good at making the first move. Ever. It's not so much the feeling of rejection I fear, because everyone knows I pretty much don't give a fuck about whether people like me or not. It's more the fear of the unknown. What if he says yes? Relationships have never been my forte. I hate guys when they get too clingy, but when they aren't showing enough interest I start to wonder if I've done something wrong. I hate jealousy. I hate possessiveness.
All the traits my first boyfriend had. He made me quit drinking, smoking, drugs, self-harm. Any of my vices, you name it, I quit it. For which I am grateful. Seriously. Without that push only God knows where I'd be right now. Probably dead. Or worse. But he was too possessive. All my friends at the time were guys. Simply because girls are bitches. So he thought I was sleeping with every guy I talked to. He wanted to spend every second of every damn day with me, always round my house, which was difficult for me, I never let people in my house unless I completely trust them. Which takes a lot. He'd made me quit every form of outlet I had, and at the time I was going through A LOT of shit. In the end I felt so suffocated and trapped I had to sabotage it. So I set up a situation where I knew he'd accuse me of sleeping with my best friend, thus sparking off an arguement giving me a reason to get rid. And I did it. It took a three hour arguement in the rain to finally get him to leave me alone, but I did it. Call me vindictive, call me what you like. It's true, I was a complete bitch to him. I was sixteen and naive, and I do sometimes feel a little guilt about it, but I just couldn't be this perfect life form that he was seeking.
As for my next bloke. I wanted him because he was a complete fucker to me. But I loved it. I could throw all my shit at him and he would throw it right back. We matched each other in how fucked up we were, which was also good, because at the time no-one else would have put up with either of us. Let's just say in the end, we just fucked each other up even more. He cheated on me with my best friend, and I was back on the drink and self-harm. Along with all the shit I was going through at home and all the bullying at school, he just couldn't be the guy I wanted. The guy I needed to save me. So one day we just stopped talking. We didn't even discuss not talking, it just happened. Soon after he left school, and we never spoke again. Actually I lie, we bumped into each other at a gig in a local pub, and we reminisced for a bit, until his new girlfriend got the hump and dragged him away. All the guys I've stumbled by since have been no better. Although, I have no bad feelings toward any of my ex's. I learnt something from all of them, as I think they did from me.
Back to the point. So I spent the four days in the OC with these guys, just hanging out and other general merriment. Mainly drinking and eating steak. I don't think I left the sofa other than to go to Disney Land (and the bathroom) in the entire four days we were there. Why? That's where HE was. This guy totally captivated me. He'd say things, really unimportant things, but things that I would say to other people. Back home. 5000 miles away. It was uncanny how I'd found a parallel to myself on the other side of the world and I couldn't even find one back home. The only guy I know who will put up with a four day Star Wars marathon, stay up all night talking with me about random shit, and let me slap them in the face without kicking my ass. Plus he had this stare that was just penetrating, like he was staring into my soul. Not to mention his sexy-ass voice. He has impeccable taste in music, which is extremely important to me. I knew he was a keeper.
To say I was gutted at the end of the four days was an understatement. It meant I was going back to Hollywood, and only God knew when I would be seeing him again. Funnily enough, I saw him pretty much every day, and when we got a text a few days before we were due to go home saying that the guys were taking us back to the OC to spend our last night with them I was absolutely stoked. I'd managed to keep a certain amount of restraint for the whole holiday, and I was going to grab my chance while I still had it. And I did. We stayed up all night again - I'm not one to kiss and tell so let's leave it at that.
I went home that afternoon. I can safely say I was heartbroken. I cried as the plane took off. But so did the other girls so I managed to shrug it off. I hardly knew this guy, had known him little over a week, yet I was completely taken by him. We've kept in contact. When my phone bill leapt up to nearly 150 pounds, I finally figured how to use my email on my phone
Here in lies my dilemma. Technically we're not in a relationship. That would be impossible. The distance is killing me as it is, let alone making the damn thing official, and I don't even know if he knows about my feelings, let alone mirrors them. But I know being without him is not where I want to be. I've never felt this way about a guy before. He just understands me, and it's easy. I'm not always having to explain my actions, I don't have to tell him exactly where I am all the time. Sure he doesn't know every little thing about me, he certainly doesn't know about my past yet (I learnt my lesson about telling too much from the previous two guys ^^^), but I know I could probably tell him and he wouldn't judge me for it, or run a mile, like so many previous other guys. I know he's not perfect, far from it, in fact I don't know everything about him either, but I love everything I do know, and I can't wait to learn the rest.
I'm not usually one of the crazy "love me, define me" kind of girls. As Sugar so often says "we're strong like wildebeest". Only the longer I'm without him, the weaker I feel. Hence going back to this "quarter-life crisis" malarkey. I can literally feel myself changing into one of these girls. I want to email him all the time, I want to tell him I love him - I want to tell EVERYONE I love him. It's just not like me at all. And I hate it. I hate being one of those girls that I look at, and I judge because they're lives revolve around their bloke. But now, I get up and the first thing I do is check my email inbox, and if it's empty I feel like calling in sick and staying in bed all day. I check it every chance I get at work, just in case. I'll stay up all night emailing him, because I never know when I'll get the chance to speak to him next. When I get up in the morning he's just going to bed, so I dread the first eight hours of the day when I won't hear from him.
It's absolutely mentalist behaviour. I know it is. I can see myself doing it. And what's worse is I get the distinct impression that he's going to get tired of me. And then where will I be and what will I have left?
Hurdles...
Today, I'm not going to write a blog, only refer you to my best friends instead
sugarmonroe.blogspot.com
I think we can all say we're in agreement with this
Miss you liss xxxx
Dirty Cherry Forever
sugarmonroe.blogspot.com
I think we can all say we're in agreement with this
Miss you liss xxxx
Dirty Cherry Forever
Wednesday 21 March 2007
Sex, Drugs and other cliches
Look what Darren made us. Guy's a genius
I hate my fucking job. That's about the only way of summing it up. I just know that I don't want to work in the Multimedia department of a dusty bookshop for the rest of my fucking life. I honestly can't see a way out. There is nothing I want to do more than get my damn band sorted and get playing some shows. I'm not saying it's the only soltuion to all my problems, but it's a bloody start.
Just where to begin, you know? I probably have a collection of 20-or-so (complete and incomplete) "songs" that I've written, and I just don't know where to go with it. To say I have writer's block right now is a fucking understatement. Writing this? Piece of piss, I could rant my chops off all day, writing songs is a whole other ball-game. Every song I write comes straight from the heart, and I pour every fibre of being into them. There are some I've shared with others - the ones about sex, drugs etc etc. The ones I haven't shared are the ones I'm having the most trouble with. The ones about real events, and experiences. I've shared them with my girls. Well, the bits that I've finished. It's just difficult to get it all down on paper, every letter a reminder of that particular event, stuff that I'd rather forget. That's where the block comes in. Perhaps it's my mind telling me I don't want to remember these things so why write them down? All I know is that I don't want to be like other songwriters, who write songs they know will sell
And to sing it for a living, bearing my soul every night (although i know it will take a Hell of a lot out of me) will just be the icing on the cake
I hate my fucking job. That's about the only way of summing it up. I just know that I don't want to work in the Multimedia department of a dusty bookshop for the rest of my fucking life. I honestly can't see a way out. There is nothing I want to do more than get my damn band sorted and get playing some shows. I'm not saying it's the only soltuion to all my problems, but it's a bloody start.
Just where to begin, you know? I probably have a collection of 20-or-so (complete and incomplete) "songs" that I've written, and I just don't know where to go with it. To say I have writer's block right now is a fucking understatement. Writing this? Piece of piss, I could rant my chops off all day, writing songs is a whole other ball-game. Every song I write comes straight from the heart, and I pour every fibre of being into them. There are some I've shared with others - the ones about sex, drugs etc etc. The ones I haven't shared are the ones I'm having the most trouble with. The ones about real events, and experiences. I've shared them with my girls. Well, the bits that I've finished. It's just difficult to get it all down on paper, every letter a reminder of that particular event, stuff that I'd rather forget. That's where the block comes in. Perhaps it's my mind telling me I don't want to remember these things so why write them down? All I know is that I don't want to be like other songwriters, who write songs they know will sell
And to sing it for a living, bearing my soul every night (although i know it will take a Hell of a lot out of me) will just be the icing on the cake
Thursday 15 March 2007
Old Shmold
So it's my 21st birthday in three days. Everyone keeps asking me what I want to do for it. I already thought I WAS doing something, but apparantly just going out on the razz with my closest friends isn't enough. So my mother persists to book a table at some crap Italian restaurant, so I can have dinner with my family. Call me ungrateful, but I can think of better things I could be doing than sitting in some restaurant I dislike, with people i like even less. I know you only get one family and all that cliched jazz, but my friends are the family I chose. If you knew my family you'd understand. I'm not going to single out every member and give a reason as to why I would not be wanting to spend this "special" day with them, because that just isn't my style. The only ones I really like know who they are, and know they are very dear to me. It's all those other schmoes who only speak to me at Christmas and get me really expensive gifts because they feel bad that I'm the adopted one that I can't abide
My way of looking at it, there is one person I actually want to spend my birthday with (other than my wonderful friends of course), and I can't, because they are the other side of the damn world - where I should be
My way of looking at it, there is one person I actually want to spend my birthday with (other than my wonderful friends of course), and I can't, because they are the other side of the damn world - where I should be
Monday 12 March 2007
When Two Worlds Collide
On Saturday night, I went out with my colleagues for my birthday, because I won't see them over the weekend. We went to this nice cocktail bar, rather over-crowded, over-priced and over-yuppied if you ask me. Not the sort of establishment you would normally see me in. Everyone was all dressed up - even me, which doesn't happen often but I thought I'd make the effort since everyone else was.
Earlier in the week I'd discussed with some people going to Decadence afterwards, mainly because I really hate St. Albans with the hugest of passions. And also because the people in St. Albans are all cunts. Little did I know, I'd have a whole army of Indie blokes following me into London. To a hair metal club. Smooth move... It was kinda nice though that they actually wanted to spend some time with me, because I tend to keep my three worlds very separate, work, friends, and family. I rarely mix them. Purely because they just don't fit together, it's a recipe for disaster. Even though I'm the same person, my separate worlds are polar extremes
By the end of the night I had two groups of friends sat round a table. One group of rowdy lads shouting football chants at each other, and jeering about how girls can't play musical instruments. The other group, three of my pissed off bandmates - who happen to be fenale and play musical instruments, and some metal blokes, just looking at each other in bewilderment
Although it was a very fun night, there inlies the reason I do not mix business with pleasure
Earlier in the week I'd discussed with some people going to Decadence afterwards, mainly because I really hate St. Albans with the hugest of passions. And also because the people in St. Albans are all cunts. Little did I know, I'd have a whole army of Indie blokes following me into London. To a hair metal club. Smooth move... It was kinda nice though that they actually wanted to spend some time with me, because I tend to keep my three worlds very separate, work, friends, and family. I rarely mix them. Purely because they just don't fit together, it's a recipe for disaster. Even though I'm the same person, my separate worlds are polar extremes
By the end of the night I had two groups of friends sat round a table. One group of rowdy lads shouting football chants at each other, and jeering about how girls can't play musical instruments. The other group, three of my pissed off bandmates - who happen to be fenale and play musical instruments, and some metal blokes, just looking at each other in bewilderment
Although it was a very fun night, there inlies the reason I do not mix business with pleasure
Friday 9 March 2007
My Mid-Life Crisis
So, I haven't written on my blog for a while. Perhaps because I got a few things off my chest and decided that I didn't really have much to talk about anymore. Perhaps because I'm not good at writing things down, because when I read them back to myself that would make it real. I can't even be sure how my own mind ever works. But now it seems the perfect time to write some more stuff down, figure myself out a bit more.
Today I woke up, and I just felt like something was missing (and it had nothing to do with my freshly cut hair - even though I do miss it). It's definately something more, yet I can't quite put my finger on it. Some days I just get that feeling, and today happened to be one of them. I seem to be stumbling through my life with no immediate sense of direction. In fact I get that feeling most days. Nothing to look forward to, just the same old story, monotony, just doing the same as I did yesterday, get up, work, eat, come home, try to sleep, not succeed, write some stuff, repeat.
When I was younger I always had something to look forward to, or at least I had some vague idea of the direction I was supposed to be headed. Going to High School. Doing my GCSEs. A-Levels, then off to college. I always knew what I wanted to do, and how I was going to get there. Unfortunately things never go as planned. There are things, hurdles even - in my case they are mainly my own vices, always something that seems to prevent me from doing what I want to do with myself. When I was at High School it was bullies, and eventually my illness. In Sixth Form it was drugs and self-harm. When I went to college it was the alcohol, and ultimately the music that prevented me from fulfilling my own dream (be it my back-up dream) of doing illustration and graphic design. That was the year that confirmed I wanted a career in music.
So, this year I have started a fresh new leaf. I have different friends to those that I started last year with, friends who I love, whether they be in this continent or another. I have my band, my four wonderful girls, with whom I am going to the top. I started drinking again, but strictly no drugs this time, unfortunately the two seem to come hand in hand in my world, but I have done well nonetheless. Damn addictive personality...
You could say in all I'm altogether a different person to who I was last year. I look at guys differently, perhaps in a more grown up manner, and not that of an immature lonely girl who wanted as many guys as she could possibly surround herself with. Now I see them less as objects which I loved to collect, more actual people - although I didn't really ever let them see the real me.
I view my friendships differently, I used to be so monogamous to a very small circle of friends, but I've realised that although to have a smaller inner circle of friends is something precious, that you need more than that, even to be more receptive to the idea of letting new people in. Sometimes it's good to let people see the real me. It's not that I ever gave a fuck what people thought about me, it was just that as soon as you let someone close to you, it leaves you vulnerable to disappointment. Something that I have gotten far too familiar with.
And I've also learnt that in friendship, although giving is always good, sometimes you should get something back, and not let people walk the fuck all over you, which apparantly I do without realising it.
Essentially, despite learning these things, I still haven't learnt how to achieve my goals, because obviously they aren't going to achieve themselves, and I'll be damned if things aren't going to get in my way. This year, being the year of my 21st birthday, is going to be the year of me. I just can't wait around for things just to fall into my lap, because that's just not how things are done, and I damn well can't rely on other people to lend a hand. I've been let down too many times this year already, which quite frankly is very stupid of me for letting them take that advantage
I wish I knew where I was going with this point, but unfortunately that's the part that's missing
Where exactly is it that I am going?
Ultimately, that's my goal for the year. To find out what exactly is my purpose in this world. Recently I've started to evaluate every tiny aspect of my life. Probably a very foolish thing to do. Work: Do I REALLY want to work there anymore? Friends: Are they really as "there for me" as I have been led to believe. My band: When the fuck are we going to get our asses in gear and get this gig off the ground? Family: Why the fuck do I put up with the shit they give me? Relationships: What EXACTLY is the point of them? And why does everything seem to be getting in the way of me having the one damn person in the whole world that I am actually interested in?
I've even been looking at myself under the microscope. I've never given a fuck what people think of me, but for some reason I've changed completely from the person I used to be. Only God knows if it's for the better or not
Today I woke up, and I just felt like something was missing (and it had nothing to do with my freshly cut hair - even though I do miss it). It's definately something more, yet I can't quite put my finger on it. Some days I just get that feeling, and today happened to be one of them. I seem to be stumbling through my life with no immediate sense of direction. In fact I get that feeling most days. Nothing to look forward to, just the same old story, monotony, just doing the same as I did yesterday, get up, work, eat, come home, try to sleep, not succeed, write some stuff, repeat.
When I was younger I always had something to look forward to, or at least I had some vague idea of the direction I was supposed to be headed. Going to High School. Doing my GCSEs. A-Levels, then off to college. I always knew what I wanted to do, and how I was going to get there. Unfortunately things never go as planned. There are things, hurdles even - in my case they are mainly my own vices, always something that seems to prevent me from doing what I want to do with myself. When I was at High School it was bullies, and eventually my illness. In Sixth Form it was drugs and self-harm. When I went to college it was the alcohol, and ultimately the music that prevented me from fulfilling my own dream (be it my back-up dream) of doing illustration and graphic design. That was the year that confirmed I wanted a career in music.
So, this year I have started a fresh new leaf. I have different friends to those that I started last year with, friends who I love, whether they be in this continent or another. I have my band, my four wonderful girls, with whom I am going to the top. I started drinking again, but strictly no drugs this time, unfortunately the two seem to come hand in hand in my world, but I have done well nonetheless. Damn addictive personality...
You could say in all I'm altogether a different person to who I was last year. I look at guys differently, perhaps in a more grown up manner, and not that of an immature lonely girl who wanted as many guys as she could possibly surround herself with. Now I see them less as objects which I loved to collect, more actual people - although I didn't really ever let them see the real me.
I view my friendships differently, I used to be so monogamous to a very small circle of friends, but I've realised that although to have a smaller inner circle of friends is something precious, that you need more than that, even to be more receptive to the idea of letting new people in. Sometimes it's good to let people see the real me. It's not that I ever gave a fuck what people thought about me, it was just that as soon as you let someone close to you, it leaves you vulnerable to disappointment. Something that I have gotten far too familiar with.
And I've also learnt that in friendship, although giving is always good, sometimes you should get something back, and not let people walk the fuck all over you, which apparantly I do without realising it.
Essentially, despite learning these things, I still haven't learnt how to achieve my goals, because obviously they aren't going to achieve themselves, and I'll be damned if things aren't going to get in my way. This year, being the year of my 21st birthday, is going to be the year of me. I just can't wait around for things just to fall into my lap, because that's just not how things are done, and I damn well can't rely on other people to lend a hand. I've been let down too many times this year already, which quite frankly is very stupid of me for letting them take that advantage
I wish I knew where I was going with this point, but unfortunately that's the part that's missing
Where exactly is it that I am going?
Ultimately, that's my goal for the year. To find out what exactly is my purpose in this world. Recently I've started to evaluate every tiny aspect of my life. Probably a very foolish thing to do. Work: Do I REALLY want to work there anymore? Friends: Are they really as "there for me" as I have been led to believe. My band: When the fuck are we going to get our asses in gear and get this gig off the ground? Family: Why the fuck do I put up with the shit they give me? Relationships: What EXACTLY is the point of them? And why does everything seem to be getting in the way of me having the one damn person in the whole world that I am actually interested in?
I've even been looking at myself under the microscope. I've never given a fuck what people think of me, but for some reason I've changed completely from the person I used to be. Only God knows if it's for the better or not
Wednesday 21 February 2007
Snail Mail
Last night I wrote a letter, for my Grandad. And it was probably the second hardest thing I've ever done
Today I went to the Chapel of Rest, and placed the letter on his chest, so that he could read it when he makes his final journey, so that he would know how I felt and it would be just between the two of us. And it was probably the hardest thing I've ever done.
Looking down upon his face he looked so different. The glow in his cheeks, the twinkle in his eye, the big teethy grin, were all gone, and what was left was a stranger to me. The body that lay before me was not my Grandad, but a man I had never seen before.
And I cried no tears, because I knew that this was not MY grandad. He was somewhere else, glowing, twinkling, smiling, just like he always does. I know he is at peace now. And so am I
Tomorrow will be his cremation, and although I'll cry, I'll secretly be happy, because I know I said my goodbye, and he'll be waiting for me on the other side
Today I went to the Chapel of Rest, and placed the letter on his chest, so that he could read it when he makes his final journey, so that he would know how I felt and it would be just between the two of us. And it was probably the hardest thing I've ever done.
Looking down upon his face he looked so different. The glow in his cheeks, the twinkle in his eye, the big teethy grin, were all gone, and what was left was a stranger to me. The body that lay before me was not my Grandad, but a man I had never seen before.
And I cried no tears, because I knew that this was not MY grandad. He was somewhere else, glowing, twinkling, smiling, just like he always does. I know he is at peace now. And so am I
Tomorrow will be his cremation, and although I'll cry, I'll secretly be happy, because I know I said my goodbye, and he'll be waiting for me on the other side
First Post...
According to Kears blogging is the new hip thing to do, and since he is the height of coolness I thought I'd give it a whirl. Might alleviate some boredom whilst I'm not out rocking and rolling as they put it.
I don't normally have much to say for myself that I wouldn't mind telling people, but now seems like an appropriate time to start letting people in, being that I need to make some sort of focus in my life. My main goal for this year is to get my band off the ground. A mere pipe-dream I've had since I was but a girl, and right now the only thing in the future I have to look forward to, and I'm hoping that maybe this might give me some perspective.
I recently suffered a huge loss in my life. My Grandad, who had been terminally ill since last May finally passed away a week ago, and although I knew his death was imminent nothing in the world could have prepared me for the huge feeling of loss and emptiness that I feel right now. I told myself all the way through his illness that I would keep visits to a minimum, because the memories I have of him are so precious to me that I didn't want them clouded by new ones of him in his fragile state. And I do not regret this decision at all. He was always such a strong man, an ex-firefighter turned construction worker, and I treasured him more than he will ever know. Although we are not related by blood, never once did he make me feel any different to any other member of the family, when other people didn't and he always made me feel special, just like a grandfather should. My only regret is that I didn't get to make him proud. He always said I would be a star, called me his little super-model, and now he's gone I feel that I'll have that extra push, just to show everyone that he was right, and that they were all wrong.
So, essentially, even though this experience has brought an end, so too it brings a new beginning, a new chapter in my life.
My mum invited my Aunt round last night with her baby son Tai. Looking into his face I felt content for the first time in a week. Normally I don't get on with babies, we just don't seem to understand each other, but it was so refreshing to look into a face that was so full of love, looking at everything for the first time, untainted by this ugly world in which we live in. Death and life sometimes makes me wonder what the point of being here is
Which is why I'm going to make something of myself while I still can
I don't normally have much to say for myself that I wouldn't mind telling people, but now seems like an appropriate time to start letting people in, being that I need to make some sort of focus in my life. My main goal for this year is to get my band off the ground. A mere pipe-dream I've had since I was but a girl, and right now the only thing in the future I have to look forward to, and I'm hoping that maybe this might give me some perspective.
I recently suffered a huge loss in my life. My Grandad, who had been terminally ill since last May finally passed away a week ago, and although I knew his death was imminent nothing in the world could have prepared me for the huge feeling of loss and emptiness that I feel right now. I told myself all the way through his illness that I would keep visits to a minimum, because the memories I have of him are so precious to me that I didn't want them clouded by new ones of him in his fragile state. And I do not regret this decision at all. He was always such a strong man, an ex-firefighter turned construction worker, and I treasured him more than he will ever know. Although we are not related by blood, never once did he make me feel any different to any other member of the family, when other people didn't and he always made me feel special, just like a grandfather should. My only regret is that I didn't get to make him proud. He always said I would be a star, called me his little super-model, and now he's gone I feel that I'll have that extra push, just to show everyone that he was right, and that they were all wrong.
So, essentially, even though this experience has brought an end, so too it brings a new beginning, a new chapter in my life.
My mum invited my Aunt round last night with her baby son Tai. Looking into his face I felt content for the first time in a week. Normally I don't get on with babies, we just don't seem to understand each other, but it was so refreshing to look into a face that was so full of love, looking at everything for the first time, untainted by this ugly world in which we live in. Death and life sometimes makes me wonder what the point of being here is
Which is why I'm going to make something of myself while I still can
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