holy shit she's still alive

 It's been one very hot minute since I last posted here... I've actually had a whole other blog since then, which I'm still paying for because I forgot my password to go cancel it.

I have been sat here reading my old blog posts and wondering what the hell happened to that person. Somewhere along the way I have lost myself. I have become some kind of serious adult and I do not recognise that part of me. Do not want. I have lost my zest. 

Through this fossil of a blog I would like to seek out my zest, I want to feel alive again. 

A lot has changed in the past uhhhhhh,, many years. I work in telecoms now, I have a Big Girl job and they pay me handsomely. I have two girl cats. We still have Smudge. I have been single for five years. My dating life is a fucking nightmare. 

It's LIST TIME.

The Past Eight Years, highlights edition:

- got job in telecoms, have had a few more jobs in telecoms. I love telecoms.
- live in bean house, rebecca moved out and giblet moved in
- tried to be A Blogger. found it all very vapid. am not A Blogger but rather an inane ramber. 
- survived a whole pandemic
- got a hairy cat (epileptic version)
- got a white cat (naughty version)
- been to Canada, Copenhagen, Gothenburg, Iceland, Berlin, Ireland, Lake District
- baked shitloads
- got fit, got unfit
- made friends as an adult
- oh my fucking god I nearly forgot, I did a whole engineering degree

and a bazillion other things.

Oh yeah, I'm 34 now. So the post about being OLD at 23 has aged about as well as I have. 

tried to save myself but myself keeps slipping away

My hormones are a huge mess at the moment. After having the Mirena coil fitted a couple of weeks ago I've been ruled by it. It's messing with me so much that I have no idea how I actually feel about anything, and I'm often a nightmare to be around.

I was reading horror stories about it yesterday (huge mistake, I know) and I completely understand how some people have had their careers and relationships ruined by the hormonal storm that takes place inside your body. I've had to work SO HARD at not snapping at people and not being a completely unreasonable bitch. I would definitely be under investigation at work right now and in a tricky place in my relationship if I hadn't spent years already mastering the art of telling the difference between being irrational and being normal, and being able to keep the irrational bullshit inside my own mind most of the time.

It's exhausting me, it's making me crave the worst foods, it's making me volatile, and I hate it. I'm hoping it will settle down soon because it's only been two weeks and I already don't know how much longer I can carry on feeling physically and emotionally like shit all the damn time.

I think the hardest part is that it's taking over my mind. The lines between rational me and irrational me and becoming blurry, and I don't like that. So right now I'm in a position where I'm not comfortable sharing anything I feel because I'm not sure if it's rational or if I'm being stupid. I've become very good at recognising the difference, but it's being compromised by this new and unfamiliar entity at the moment. I don't want to push people away, and even though those closest to me have been incredible in their patience with me I can't keep pushing it.

I've been mentally "okay" for a while now, and I'm pretty upset that I'm taking steps backwards just because of the desire not to become pregnant anytime soon. This sucks so much, and the alternatives suck too, so I guess for now I'm going to have to ride out the shitty part and hope it gets better in time.

ouch

(don't read this if talk of ladyparts makes you uncomfortable, Or maybe do because you might learn something about being a real life human instead of a strange robot who is for some reason programmed to remain ignorant about the finer workings of its overlords. It's up to you.)

*****************

today a lady put a little T-shaped piece of plastic up inside my womb.

The purpose is to put up a big ol' drawbridge between the sperm soldiers and the womb castle, and just in case any of the sneaky buggers do get through, make sure the womb ecosystem is not conducive to human life, firstly by being downright inconvenient and a lot of effort, secondly by possibly making sure there's no great tail inside for that sperm to try and tap (ovulation often stops altogether).

As a human who currently screams internally (and from time to time externally) about the idea of being responsible for a whole other human, this sounded like a marvellous idea. Bloody marvellous.
So today, I had the drawbridge erected, and the womb castle is now adequately protected.

HOWEVER

this comes at a price. Many women don't experience much pain, some experience a bit, and some experience a lot. And a few women experience THE WORST PAIN KNOWN TO TERRESTRIAL LIFE. (I was going to say known to man, but man will never know this pain. And I cannot comment on the pain that alien life forms might experience. No one can.) I am in the latter of those categories. My best friend and wife, Emma, who has manufactured, delivered, and is currently the owner of a child, said it sounds like the pain of contractions. She's been the whole damn human supply chain, so she knows this sort of stuff. I sought a second opinion from the internet as it is known for being such a credible source, and other ladies who have had babies AND had the coil fitted are in agreement,

So right now, I am basically having contractions because my body is trying to give birth to a tiny piece of plastic that is designed for me to not give birth.

Here is a list of things that I suppose right now would probably hurt less:
- having my womb chewed out by a crocodile
- stabbing myself in the eye
- putting a pencil so far up my nose it tickles my brain
- a bear attack, the prolonged type
- stubbing all ten of my toes in quick succession
- peeling off all my skin
- one thousand conkers falling on me from a giant tree
- sanding a part of my flesh off down to the bone
 - doing some neat embroidery into my skin

take me to the docks, there's a ship without a name

it's sailing to the middle of the sea.

...


I'm listening to sad songs and I'm not so sure why, because I'm not sad. I suppose you don't need to be sad to listen to sad songs. Isn't it amazing how music can have emotions? Like, certain sounds and certain melodies are just... sadder than others. I get how in like a really basic music theory kind of way, but I don't really understand why those combinations of sounds incite a certain feeling within most people.

There are people who just don't care for music at all. It makes them feel nothing.

Anyway. Imagine if you could just sail to the middle of sea and just... stay there. Or go to the moon.
Does it make anyone else sad that they will never go to the moon?

I think I have a hankering to just be not here... like, I'm not unhappy, I'm just bored of this city I suppose. I feel restless. But the kind of restless when you kinda want to go for a run, but then you remember that you're lazy and unfit and maybe staying in bed would be easier and waaaaaaaaay more comfortable.

Even bed gives me a backache sometimes though if I stay in it too long.

Southampton, you have given my life a backache.

FISH FISH FISH FISH FISH

Here are some blurry pictures of fish from the sea life centre.

Louise and I went to Sea Life after dark, where you go there in the evening and there is alcohol. It was AMAZING. I want to do it again.

debauchery

After a long weekend of too much fun, it's finally catching up with this old lady. I never got the hangover I deserved after Friday, so I can't really complain, though I have woken up feeling a bit naff this morning.

I have had an EXCELLENT weekend. Ween has been amazing. Em and I ended up at a house party of one of our friends on Friday night, on a complete whim, where much drinking happened and from the sound of it (I don't necessarily remember everything) I embraced my inner weird amongst a whole load of strangers.

It's very fortunate that I didn't get the hangover I deserved, because the next day was Letti's ween party, in which we dressed up as Telefrancais characters:

Here we are as Ananas, squellette, and Mr Pourquoi.

And here is Mr Pourquoi for reference.

We watched many movies, a couple of which gave me the MEGA HEEBS. Such heebs oh my goodness. And we had a fire in the chiminea, and ate many many foods. I had a very lovely time n_n

So today is my final day off work before I go back for all of TWO days, before another couple of days off for my best bean Beckoi's birthday. Today I am going to do sensible things such as:

• make a christmas cake
• finish fixing Smudge's cat scratcher
• go to the shop for items to do the previous two things, such as glue sticks for the glue gun, and sherry for the cake.
• pop down the allotment and lay some ground sheet to stop the weeds coming back, and check on my garlics
• some cross stitch
• paint my gross nails
• write more for NaNoWriMo

Think that's all. Hopefully I'll have a very sensible day, go to bed at a reasonable time, and wake up fresh for work tomorrow.

Wish me luck, hahahahah.

i won't let you close enough to hurt me

it's not a secret, I've been single a while now. 90% by choice. I've come to realise through a culmination of many different happenings that I have become one of those people who is terrified of commitment. Whenever anything gets even a hint of serious or of wanting to head that way, I bolt.

Relationships are hard. Anything where you're putting at least a portion of your happiness into someone else's hands makes you vulnerable, and I'm not sure I can do that anymore. I can't leave myself that open to getting hurt by someone, or even to hurting someone else. I guess my track record leans more towards me hurting other people, but I'm not a bad person so it still sucked to have to do that. In fact it was bloody awful.

It's so bloody terrifying. I mean, the next person I'm with will either be the person I spend the rest of my life with, or the next breakup. Both of those things make me want to go to bed and hibernate so I don't have to think about it.

I can't be done with relationships, I'm only 25. I have plenty of time to figure this out. It's just real scary right now. And I think that the process of figuring it out will be a combination of me figuring myself out (I've already been doing a lot of that to be honest), and finding someone who is just.... right. Someone I don't want to bolt from, and who doesn't want to bolt from me. I guess that's hard too. A lot of people my age are going through a similar thing; we've all had serious relationships now, and most of us have had our hearts broken or broken a few hearts. It's a difficult thing to figure out when you've been brought up on the ideal that happily ever after is what you're looking for, and that Prince Charming will show up some day. That's not how it works at all.

I guess we're all just trying to work it out, and one day there will be someone worth taking the risk for, someone I'll be okay making myself vulnerable for. And they'll feel the same.