New blog

The link to my new blog is here

See you there!

xx

An announcement.

In the next few weeks, I'll be closing up this blog. I don't think I'm giving it the attention it needs and I'm thinking about new thing, a new blog - which won't really fit into this. I'll post the link when and if I do go though with it.

But for now, I'm dimming the lights of this part of my unspotless mind.

G'night.

Its been odd.

Yeah. Strange. Life, as a rule, refuses to stop a single second to take note. Things are speeding up, almost to the point of not recognising what I have in that moment.

I know I'm working hard. I know I'm tired. Or tried. Whatevs.

But I'm still here, with a phone-memory full of my usual rants and a certain kind of satisfaction that I'm still here.

So, there's that.

That, and a whole new playlist of songs.

Music that reflects my moods.

You have been warned.

He'll never even read this

We were never friends. You just used that theory. You used it because you knew I believed in you when no one else would. I tried to honour what I thought I saw in you. But there is nothing. No anguish. No doubt. No fear that you are less than you are. And yet, you are. Not just because you let her down so badly, but because you destroyed what little hope you inspired in people who wanted so badly for you to become a better person.

People like you have no soul - you can't become a better person. I made excuse after excuse for you. I tried so hard to justify your behaviour when what I should have done is tell you repeatedly what a prick you really are. More fool me. But no more. Go and destroy yourself with self pity, knowing you will always drive away the people who care because you love to play the tortured artist. Pity yourself, the vapid shallow thing you are, pretending to be so sad to hide the fact you are devoid of an actual personality. Go on, surround yourself with fake friends, people you use as much as they use you, because your whole life is about keeping up the act. Don't let anyone get too close, lest they find out the truth about how empty you are.

But most of all, know this. Keep in your mind, that if you, yet again, go near the people I love, real people with real feelings - I will end you. You are little more than a husk now, of very little importance, but you fuck with me, I guarantee you'll be nothing more than a bad memory. Go play your sad song somewhere else, because no one here wants to hear the tune you play.

Like you said last night, poor little anguished boy, goodbye forever. Or, my words - fuck off. Run away. You're good at running from the truth, aren't you?

promises to myself

All overhead lights will be off by 8.30pm. Candles and table lamps only after this. Your sense of calm will thank you.

Laptop and/or pc should be switched off by 7, barring a suitable reason (writing is one, tvtropes is not)

- further, no more gossip sites - the dirt on celebs stains you too.

You will write, and keep to, a suitable housekeeping schedule. You will sit and prepare the next day before you sleep.

No more snooze button mornings. You always end up rushing and forgetting things.

Work out. You miss it. Start off by getting back on the wii.

Stick to no wheat. You're getting good at it, and your body will thank you. Eventually.

Accept responsibility for your actions.

Admit you are just lazy, but you're capable of being better than that.

Never forget, especially during the low points, how very lucky you really are.

Stick to your goals.

Do it.

To meet and marry (and divorce?)

Some people are just crazy.

Scratch that.

CARRRRRAAAAZZZEEEEEEE!!!!.

That's better.

I'm watching the Wedding House on Channel 4, and a couple have just got married after knowing each other for 3 months!

Seriously, I've got tins of food in my cupboard older than that.

I've only recently came around to the idea of marriage - and I count recently as January, still longer than 3 months away! I came around to it as a natural progression of my relationship with Gof, and in truth, I feel we have a marriage already. I mean, we have house insurance for goodness sake! The wedding day is, and always has been, simply a day we celebrate our relationship with our loved ones. It is a relationship borne of experience, shared memories and a bond only time could forge. We have been together for 3 years, and our wedding day will fall on our 6th year as a couple. We both agree that this is perfect for us. Our day will be enriched by experiences we have yet to share, and more importantly, we'll have paid off existing debt AND the wedding fees!

Even when I didn't understand or even necessarily agree with the concept of marriage, I still judged those who used it for the reasons that were absolutely against the spirit of the thing. We've all heard the horror stories. Shotgun weddings, weddings for gifts, wedding just to show off. Weddings just to win a honeymoon (I'm looking at you, guilty pleasure Four Weddings!). I always respected the choice to get married, if those choices were based on a mutual love and hope and determination to stay together and grow old together. I even understand that some shotgun weddings have the couples celebrate their 50th anniversary.

But, eurgh. The couple looked distinctly uncomfortable walking down the aisle, one groom just meeting his soon-to-be-husband's parents for the first time 10 minutes previously. I wouldn't be in the least surprised if they had already broken up. It just looked so forced.

Marriage isn't a fashion accessory. I can't relate to the idea that you marry knowing there's an option to divorce. I certainly can't understand the idea that people marry just because they can. I am over joyed that in this country, any people in love can marry regardless of gender, but rushing in just because you can cheapens it for the couples who marry out of genuine and carefully nurtured love.

Is it too much to ask?

Love and marriage apparently go hand in hand.

Or am I just kidding myself?

Find a clue

I'm having a bit of a crisis. I'm constantly knackered and generally feeling lousy, I feel fat, uninspired, frumpy and bored of out my mind. My house keeping is important to me, and it gives my a sense of comfort, but I've let it far by the wayside.

I just feel lost.

I was in Wales over the weekend. My mum was in hospital for a spinal operation, and I wasn't missing that for the world. It wasn't a risk I was willing to take, that something could go wrong and I was 400 miles away. It was a busy and emotional weekend but I'm glad I managed it. I'm actually on the phone to mum right now, and I love how normal she is sounding, just talking about my niece and nephew. I'm hoping to get back down in a fortnight, but it's very much based on if I can get overtime.

While I was there, I was astounded by the sheer will power my sister has. Not only has she two kids under 5 to care for, she has a full time job, she's caring for my mum, AND scrubbing out a new flat my mum was offered a day before the op, so that mum can move in seamlessly after she's able to be independent again. All this, after she has completed a surrogacy two months ago. I need her stamina. Her iron will.

In the meantime, I'm just coasting along. I need some energy. I need inspiration. I need routine.

I want to clean out my home again. It's not a tarfside tragedy, but it's not as perfect as it could be - should be.

I want to get excited about my job again.

I want to take pride in myself again, not just the barest maintenance. Ego aside, I know that when I take care of my physical self, my mental state is default: happy.

I just want to have a life again.

Right now, excluding the weekend, my life consists of crawling out of bed at the last possible minute, climbing into the shower then my uniform and sloping off to work, feeling miserable there, then going home, sitting on the couch and staring at my laptop until I go to bed.

What a crock of shit. Lovely kind of life there. Not what I've dreamed of while I was sitting in a hostel.Where is Gof in this, I hear you ask? Being ignored, mostly. Not what he dreamed of either, I'd wager. (ed. note - he's not here right now, it's game night with the boys) 


I don't know how I got into this funk. Autumn is my favourite season, I finally have a home I love. I have, as always, my gorgeous Gof trying to support me. Our bills are paid. My job is secure, with a promotion in sight.

So why this funk?

Seriously.

Why.

Answers on a postcard please.

Until then, I'm going to attempt.... something.

Feelin' blue...

But it's a good thing!

I'm halfway through my weekly scrub, with dust itching my nose and my hands feeling worse for wear. So I've took alittle break and played a game. While I've been tiding, I've been making a note of things I still need/want to change/should buy in/want for the sake of the pretty. By tonight, I should have complied quite the list! But it's nice when I score it off, buying what we need for the flat or just because it's irresistible takes us one step closer to the home Gof and I want to have.

But to the game. I need constant inspiration and as I sat down to my laptop and diluting juice (keeping hydrated!) I wondered what I would do if I wanted my house to have blue in every room. Of course, I'm not doing that, but I wanted to see what other people have done. Out of the gazillion photos I saved for further viewing, these are my favourite five.

In this picture, I love how busy everything is and yet it looks like a place to be comfortable in, to enjoy and relax. Imagine, the sun gazing through as you smell the floras and feel the well worn comfort of all the cushions and quilts around you, your eyes heavy and dozing in little nap time.

Simply, how cool is the organiser! I mean, the colours and styling are right up my street, but it's the fact it looks like it belongs in a 60's spaceship or something that bring out the wow factor! Do want! An afternoon of whipping up the cupcakes and muffins your loved ones enjoy so much, flour on your nose and singing along to your guilty secret songs!

I actually have a very similar chandelier in pewter grey in our bedroom, but the unexpected shade of blue lifts it into the extraordinary. I'm a ditz, can anyone tell me what this shade is called? I may want it's babies! I can imagine a soft glow from those bulbs, setting off your calm room, a crown to any beauty you create.

 Ooh you wouldn't leave this bathroom would you? No, I would lay there all day, my champagne glass always magically full as I lazily reach for it sitting on the chair beside me. Gof would come in every so often to feed me grapes and strawberries as Nat King Cole songs whispered through the window... bliss!

Finally, a little study, with beautifully planned out frames encasing your favourite moments in life looking over you as you read, write, or daydream the afternoon away. Imagine writing a letter to loved one, with crumbs on your lips from the cinnamon cookie to the side and your nose full of the aroma of a ginger tea. 

Ok, your turn! Pick a word - a colour, fabric, emotion, anything, and look it up on google images. Then lets see your favourite 5 pictures!

In which I discuss (somewhat) Christianity.

As you may know, I live in Glasgow. A city I love so much, I'm working on a blog about it. But for now, I'm here to talk about something I've been thinking about since Thursday. Yes, it's one of those posts.


The Papal Visit has got me thinking.


Now, let me begin by saying that although I think Christianity is a beautiful religion, for too long the simple idea that Jesus had has been bogged down by politics and oppression in many forms. It's my personal belief, and one I am happy to discuss and deliberate. I am not egotistical enough to believe I am right, and I fully respect and support anyone and everyone's own belief structure. As the saying goes,

"I may not agree with what you say but I will defend to the death your right to say it"

So here's where I'm at. I believe Jesus existed. I believed he thought he was the Son of God, and wanted to make the world he lived in a better place. I believe that he lived and died as a holy man, holding to his morals and principals. I believe, when the first stories about him where written, some 30 years after his death, by people who may have not even known him, on behalf of the people that did - certain stories were embellished and exaggerated and even out right made up. Some of these writers did it out of a love of the message, and again, a desire to see the world be a better place. Some didn't. Some wrote for their own selfish reasons and started twisting the stories to fit with their own views on the world and on how life should be. It's human nature. No one is perfect. There is proof, then, when the stories came together, that a certain amount of editing happened, to make it "fit" with the beliefs of the people who collated them. Again, maybe not out of any ill thought, but it happened.


Then, many many years after the fact, the works were translated, and badly. There is also continuing work happening today to see what could have been if the translation was done with more than a basic knowledge of the language being translated. I'm curious to see the results. But back to the first translation. They attempted it several times, and each time they translated from the previous attempt, not going back to the original text. I can imagine how muddled those words got.


And then there were a few different versions floating around. People who followed one book denounced the others. There was no way to reconcile them all. Religious fervour had taken hold. In the end, the group with the most political clout, with the biggest sticks, won. The Church became a powerful entity.


Fast forward to today, and the idea of religion is almost distasteful. Too many wars, killings, conspiracies; and these days most people consider themselves atheist without fully exploring what that choice means. They assume it is the lack of a belief in a god. It isn't. That isn't the full story, the same way most believe Satanists are blood thirsty goat killing goths. Those people aren't truly Satanists either. I think J Michael Straczynski said it best.

As an atheist, I believe that all life is unspeakably precious, because it’s only here for a brief moment, a flare against the dark, and then it’s gone forever. No afterlives, no second chances, no backsies. So there can be nothing crueler than the abuse, destruction or wanton taking of a life. It is a crime no less than burning the Mona Lisa, for there is always just one of each. So I cannot forgive. 

Most people who consider themselves Christian, in my personal experience, are lovely normal sweet people who just want a better world, and in the way that makes most sense to them. It means there are certain ideas I cannot agree with, but I know it comes from a place of love and an innate goodness that I can't help but love anyway. Then there are those who use Christianity as a tool for hate, an excuse to do and spread vile ideas and actions - but I do not identify them as Christians the same way I don't see the no god brigade as atheists or the aforementioned blood thirsty goat killing goths as true Satanists. *side note, I enjoy letting those people know they are the same Christians they claim to hate because they believe in the same god and devil - they just worship the other side. Scary, isn't it? And emphatically NOT what true Satanists are about* 

In my eyes, the Pope is dangerously close to becoming one of the dangerous kinds of Christian. The kind I see as using religion, instead of practising it. I liked Pope John Paul II. He had ideas and a belief system I didn't always agree with, but I felt, in his heart, he loved his God and was intent on doing as much as he could, as a good man. Pope Benedict XVI however, is a god-fearing man, and seems to have an angle. It's strange, some of his beliefs about how the world should be are, on the surface, exactly the same as Pope John Paul II had, but it comes from a darker place. This isn't because of the whole Nazi Pope thing - to be honest, I empathise with how difficult it would have been to be forced into that in his youth. 

Maybe it's as simple as something about him gets my back up. My hackles are on full alert. Maybe it's entirely down to personality. I've definitely considered that option. I guess I just don't understand how anyone can worship something they fear. 


I will continue to write the implications of The Papal Visit - the finance and everything else that got people's panties in a twist. But for now, I wanted to make my position clear. Like I said before, I have huge respect for those who appreciate religion as a way to live a better life. I love the idea that faith enriches peoples lives. But organised religion causes me pause. And I would like to explore why.

And now for something completely different....

You do not know me. I am invisible to those who don’t know my name. It’s a conscious thing; I don’t give my name out freely. I prefer being hidden. It makes it easier to watch and learn.

I noticed one day, that somewhere in the great vastness of the cyber world, that a great deal of people were drawn to a mysterious man named The Tutor.

Heh, I said drawn.

I noticed, as is my wont, that he was teaching these people, these willing students, a new philosophy. A way to paint. To become oneself through creativity. I watched, and my fingers itched to join in.

But, you see I have to confess, I have no fingers. I am simply me. I can’t paint, I have no canvas. I have no brush, no paint, no extension of myself. I am barely here, never mind there, in that sweet classroom built for two bodies, a cockroach, and a world of souls, each enlarged and enriched by The Tutor’s gift of himself. I simply watch.

But in my mind – I have recently discovered I have a mind, therein lies the tools at my disposal! I envision what I must look like, all hair and toenails, a sizable expanse of flesh and the bones to support it. I imagine my eyes are green. I see me, myself, picking up a pencil, and slowly twirling it around fingers – I have fingers now. I see me, myself, becoming accustomed to the shape, the weight, the form, and decide to have another. And another. I lay out these new tools and look up with my green eyes. An easel and canvas are to my right. I blink and see The Tutor’s grin in the split second’s darkness. There is a scalpel beside those pencils. I do I watched others learn. I prepare my tools.

First, there is nothing. A white square, like the last piece of unspoiled snow. I have watched in other times as those who come across the virgin territory quickly defile the snow. There is always regret after. But I will not regret this now. I lift my arms, and splay my fingers – remember I have fingers now. I prepare me, myself.

I see it now. Within the confines of my canvas, there is a chandelier, broken and on one side. It was once a majestic icon, gold and crystals glimmering like tiny rainbows. You can see the last piece of honour and pride this once great chandelier held, keeping all but a few of her crystals. The few are strewn on the floor. There is a mutinous crack looming overhead, an evil dark grin that could only mean the ceiling spat out its regal charge out of spite, a burden it no longer wanted to support. There is dust snowing down, so light you wouldn’t notice until it settles in the grand arms of the chandelier. Her beauty is fast fading under the dirty snow. In her wisdom, the chandelier accepts the dust in without fear and waits. There is very little that dazzles now. One crystal remains untouched, and it tries desperately to shine. But there is no more light in this room.   

There is only a broken thing, and in the corner, almost hidden by her chandelier, there is a girl, whose name you don’t know, forever kept in the safety of canvas. Waiting for the next lesson. 

a lil lesson

I understood something today. I understood, that done right, a day can be more important, more life changing, than a year.

I now know that the most amazing things are sometimes hidden in the mundane. A little diamond that shines through the darkest of places.

I know that honouring a past is not the same as being a slave to it - rather, to take with you the lessons in your history as you face the path unknown is true respect.

One day, you will wake up, and when you lay you head back on that pillow your whole world has changed completely. Maybe it is because of something different you did. Maybe it is because you didn't change a single part of your routine. Who ever knows?

A life well lived isn't down to the accomplishments you can put down on paper. No one will ever remember that time you got three "À's" in a row. No one will care that you got a first aid award.

They will remember YOU. Your smile. The way you rolled your eyes. Your fear of clowns. The joy you took in the silliest of things, precisely because they *were* silly. Your favourite colour. They will remember rocking out, in true heavy metal style, to a Britney Spears song.

Take a chance.

Breathe.

Smile.

Live.

And let me know how it goes.

ohoh! I found this in my drafts! Win!

So, I’m getting married.

Unusually though, I’m getting married to have a marriage. I’m not that bothered about the wedding. I’m sort of confused on the whole issue really. I’ve never been a wedding-y sort of girl. I mean, I appreciate the pretty when I go, but I also see the problems. I hate how most weddings I’ve been to, I get the impression the couple have spent months, maybe years on this one day. The Wedding Day is suddenly all the couple think about. Fights about the flowers, guests and table plans become the norm. And the cost? Fuggedaboutit!

I’ve known one couple, together for 6 years, re-mortgage their home, get married, and separate before the first repayment. Why? Because one fight about the groom’s best man, (she didn’t like him and wanted her brother to do it instead) pushed them past the point of remembering why they were doing it in the first place. They forgot the celebration of love.

Of course, not every couple turn into wedding-obsessed caricatures of their former selves. Some have it so sorted and simple, in thoughts of not in the style.  For some, the whole exercise remains exactly what it always was, a day to celebrate the beginning of a marriage.

Today, I have been watching Four Weddings on LivingTV. It’s definitely shown me how NOT to go about planning our wedding. It’s also shown me that there are some fun, non wedding-y ideas to be had. Mostly, oddly, it’s reaffirmed my prior disgust to the whole shebang. It really does bring out the worst in some people. I’m worried it’ll bring out the worst in me.

From a self affirmed cynic to a not-quite-so hopeless romantic in one beautifully simple relationship. Far now, from seeing only the ugly side of weddings, I now want to celebrate the relationship we have, and forge a bond in front of the people we care about. I’ve held that in my head since we decided to get married. Mostly though, I think about the marriage aspect of this little contract, not the day that celebrates it. Every time I do, I just can’t picture past my Love and I holding hands. I don’t know what to wear, if I should have bridesmaids, the location, anything! I just don’t know. However, I do know I want this day to be special, and mean something, to us both.

Colour me confused alright. I suppose I’m gonna have to make some decisions. First off – we need to set a date!

And so, begins the Tale of the Anti-Bride.

Wish me luck!

Still alive!

I'm in a strange place of being too busy and not getting enough done. So things, like this blog, have slipped by the wayside.

I'll sit down, very soon, and change that. But for now, I'll leave you with a picture that explains at least some of my absence. *hint, I was off being Elivinessa 

See you soon!

Skunk Anansie - Secretly (uncut)

always loved this song, but today it made me sob a bit. No idea why, but it's still gorgeous!

I've been biding my time, been so subtly kind,
I've got to think so selfishly, 'cos you're the face inside of me.
I've been biding my days, you see evidently it pays,
I've been a friend, with unbiased views, then secretly lust after you
So now you feel rusty You're bored & bemused
You wanna do someone else, so you should be by yourself, instead of here with
me, secretly

Trying hard to think pure, bloody hard when I'm raw,
you're talking out so sexually, 'bout boys & girls & your friggin' dreams.
So Now you feel lusty, you're hot & confused.
You wanna do someone else, so you should be by yourself, instead of here with
me, secretly

So now you've been busted, you're caught feeling used.
You had to do someone else, you should've been by yourself,
You had to do someone else, you should've been by yourself,
instead of here with me, secretly, secretly

Dust

We are not friends. We were, once, so goodwill and pleasant memories carry weight and importance. A small piece of heart reserved for the lovely. But we do not know each others heart. We can not know the depth, for we never really asked.

Its not through lack of caring, no, for that would imply a certain choice when really I forgot time changes who we are. Once upon a time all we did together was all we were, there was no need for questions. Then we grew up, apart, and I never really realised it until one day the realisation hit like dust.

Blind and confused, I forgot who I am for a second, because how can I know myself when I don't know you?

The dust covers my eyes and I cry. I cry for those friends who didn't ever realised they weren't anymore.

*Just something I'm working on*

Public Service Announcement - Charity/thrift/vintage shopping!

More than a few of my friends have commented on my usually successful trips to the charity shops in my area (I live in the mecca of charity and vintage shops :D), and often ask how I always come away with at least one thing. Any time I wear one of my new treasures, someone always asks where I got it and most are surprised when I say the charity shop!

But, surely, they no doubt wonder, that's where bad clothes go to die, after languishing at the bottom of the wardrobe for years - unloved, unwanted?

Well, no. Not always. Don't get me wrong, I usually have to rake through an awful lot of crap to find a diamond, but there is always items that have simply been donated out of the goodness of peoples hearts (or they ran out off storage and were forced at gunpoint to get rid of some stuff they loved but hadn't worn in ages - who, me?) , and they're there to be had.

Today, I was only supposed go to the bank, then the doctors, but walked back into my house with a skirt, a pair of jeans and a pair of shoes. All from charity shops.

I can't find my camera, so I'll describe what I bought.

One pair of black oval toed patent and snakeskin "look" courts with three thin straps, originally from Nine West. A snuggly, but not fluffy baby pink v neck 3/4 sleeve cotton jumper, originally from Debbie Morgan. A pair of bootcut blue jeans, originally from New Look, and finally, a black A-line skirt, originally from Wallis.

In fact, I'm wearing the skirt right now!

So, I started thinking - what are the rules I stick to when I go shopping? Charity and vintage shop finds account for over 80% of my wardrobe, so I must be doing something right if I'm constantly complimented!

So far, here they are.

1. Never buy anything originally from Primark. If you didn't buy it in that place, you're not likely to really want it now, are you? Plus it's so cheaply made, everytime!

2. On that point, look out for labels and brands you know and trust, or that have been recommended.

3. Know your colours. That neon green halter might look fun and kooky on the hanger, but is it really something you'd enjoy wearing if you usually wear pastels?

4. Sizes ALWAYS vary, so don't be depressed if that size 12 fits more like an 8.

5. When you do have a potential diamond in your hands, check stitching, for any flaws, frays and discolouring. In shoes, check the heel tips, inside the shoe and for any scuffs.

6. Yes, I know you like that black cardigan, but you have 12 at home. Do you really need another?

7. No matter what style you lean towards, every woman needs a little black dress, a white shirt, good fitting pair of jeans. 

8. The more of an idea you have of what you're after, the better. There's less of a chance of coming away with either nothing or something just to buy something.

9. In saying that, be open to something amazing to appear out of the blue (and bargain bin!)

10. Don't spend more than you intended to. My rule of thumb, especially with vintage is asking if I would be happy paying double the tag if it was brand new. Mostly, it works out!

Go forth, and happy shopping!!!

Learning to communicate

There's always been a little thought at the back of my head, one of those "I'll get around to it someday" kind of thoughts, when you suddenly realise you've been thinking about it for years but never acted on it.

I've always wanted to learn sign language.

The same way I've always wanted to learn to be fluent in Italian (I understand more than I speak), I've considered Sign as a language I would love to learn, considering there are over a million people in Scotland alone that suffer from some form of hearing impairment, it's a goal I think would benefit myself and the deaf customers I deal with on a regular basis.

Yesterday, in work, a woman approached a fellow colleague for assistance. I watched as she pointed to her ear and shook her head, signalling she was deaf, and said in the sort of thick accent that comes from being deaf from birth, "Help me". My colleague (who is new, it has to be said), look both confused and uncomfortable, so I stepped in to help. With a smile, she touched my arm and pointed to a gap in the shelf, where the product she wanted would be. I said clearly and a little slower than I would normally speak, "Let me check for you". I grabbed my scan gun and zapped the bar code, and my gun showed me there should be more in stock downstairs. I smiled and said "Yes, we have it, I'll go get some" and held up my two fingers to indicate I'd be two minutes. She smiled, counted out her fingers, and held them up. "Six" she said, "Six please".  I nodded and went to go get them.

Luckily, they weren't hard to find, I quickly brought them back, plus more to put on the shelf. It was those ready made drinks in a can, this one being G&T, Sainsbury's are doing an offer on them just now. I put 6 in her basket and she hugged me, pointing at the promo sign and remarked "What a great deal" (not just saying that, it actually is, whether I work there or not! :P) and mimed tipping a drink back and being, well, less than sober! We giggled and she touched my arm again, saying "Thank you" with such warmth in her eyes I almost hugged her right back. Instead, I just replied, "You're welcome" with a smile to match her own, and we parted company.

As lovely as an experience it was, I can't help but feel if I had a basic working knowledge of Sign I could have made my lovely customer's request somewhat easier. I imagine she goes through her whole day, trying to communicate with people who make no real effort to understand her. The new guy, I imagine, isn't a bad person, but he clearly felt uncomfortable and walked away relieved when I took over. I think if there was just one person in her day to day life who unexpectedly could not only understand, but could communicate in a way she knows as well as hearing people can understand the nuances in speech - it's a goal worth having, I think.

So I'm on it. Gonna start, at least, to look online, I've already had a peek and there's a wealth of information to be had on BSL (I'm looking here and here at the moment.), and later, when I've grasped the basics, I'm going to look at evening classes.

It's the right thing to do.

sister, sister...sister, and fictional character!

Man I'm tired. I've been tired all the time lately, the muggy weather and pulling extra hours at work has left Miz a very sleepy girlie! When I get home, all I want to do is sleep, and not think too much. But for today, at least, I figured I should have at least a small update on stuffs, since there has infact been life outside work!

My ickle (half) sister Sara was staying with us for a while, she does have her own flat but it was no longer very safe, she felt scared just being there and I wasn't for having that! I won't lie, it wasn't easy having 3 people, 3 loads of stuff, in an one bed flat, even one as spacious as this, but I'd always much rather that than knowing my sister couldn't feel settled in her own home. She's moved on now, to her mama's new house, now that it was fixed up enough for her, and although I'm glad to have my living room back, I kinda miss the booger :p

In other news, Lynzi, my other sister, the one I'm convinced is the true eldest since she mothers me so much - has gone and done something that will put her in the Hall of Family Fame forever more. Yesterday, she gave birth to Thomas, a bundle of Joy, and Dev. You see, she acted as a surrogate for this lovely couple, and gave them something they had been wanting for such a long time. I can't even begin to imagine how utterly selfless one must be to do something that requires not only your body, but heart and soul.

It was something she thought long and hard about, she already has 2 amazing kids, and doesn't want anymore, but as a mother, she understood, on a level I will never understand, the pull of having a child, and sympathised deeply with the plight of couples who find it hard to conceive. After a year of weighing up the pro's and con's, she decided it was something worth doing, signed with an agency, and was eventually matched with J&D. Since Lynzi is the most awesome of all human beings, she became pregnant on their first try, and not long after, a production company got in touch and asked to document the pregnancy. Since then, they've filmed a few segments, and it will be shown on BBC2 in March. Don't worry, I WILL remind you (incessantly) nearer the time :D

My sister is my personal hero. She's accomplished so much already in her life, and I know she'll continue to amaze me throughout our life. Even so, just for this one thing, the absolute magnitude of it all, will never cease to be the single most epic thing I've ever witnessed. She laughs at me for being so emotional, but I think, in this case, it's totally justified.

Since this seem to be about my sisters, I'll sign off with this last little tidbit. My other other sister (and that ain't even the last of them, just the last I've news about!)  Jaime Leigh, has moved back from the middleofnowheresville where my mama and Lynzi live, to Glasgow. Already we've had two nights out on the lash, and I predict many more in the near future! It's good to have the lil angel*not* back home where she belongs, partying with me! I love it :D

Normal service (if there ever was!) will resume as soon as.... well... when I've got more to say!

Oh oh!

I did start writing my character diaries and had hoped to update daily until the Gathering, but Real Life sucks! I have started, posted one, and have written more, but they're all out of sequence as I write from different points in Livvy's lifetime. I promise to sit down really soon and link them up so I can publish them in order. Anyone wanting to know more, drop me a line and I'll get back to you!

Mwah!

The Tale of the NaziFem

A little wander around the interwebs always amuses me, especially when I don't know where I'll end up. I've learned many a little known fact, gossiped over stuff I have no real care for, found great music/movies/people; generally, had a great time.

But ever so often, there's a real WTF moment - and recently there was one I couldn't pass without comment.

So, I was on TvTropes (yes, thank you Maffu - bastard) and ended up finding some ultra Nazi Feminist's blog.

Let's call it the online version of a car crash - bloody disgusting, and shaming to stare at it, even though you can't help it. And no, I'm not linking it.

The woman (and I baulk at calling her that, so lets call her NaziFem) was so twisted, so convinced her way was the only way to be, and even though she stated she would welcome open discussion, she banned certain comments from appearing, if someone was to have a different opinion than hers.

But there was one post in particular really really, offended me. She was getting all uppity about Firefly, and the fact she didn't think it was a female-friendly story. Now, that opinion doesn't bother me, not everyone will like the same things I do because they're stupid, obviously, but she went on to state that the way Joss Whedon writes his women characters obviously means he is a rapist.

I'm serious.

She outright said he rapes his wife.

I wish I was kidding.

NaziFem goes on, after some apparently non offensive (to her) prodding, to state that she believes in the radical version of what is considered rape. Which is to say that if a man (of course) tries to initiate sex (with a woman) it is rape, since the woman didn't ask for sex. Even if she consents, it is still rape, because the man pressured the woman into agreeing.

NaziFem is a lesbian, of course. The worst kind, who give the other, normal lady-lovin' ladies a bad name.

When someone asked NaziFem if a woman tries to have it on with another woman without her prior consent to try, if that was rape, and she admitted she hadn't considered that theory.

Of course.

Another woman commented, and told her that as a rape survivor  (she rightly doesn't want to consider herself a victim), she found the blogger's "crazy notion of rape offensive". Said NaziFem "your opinion isn't welcome here" .

Such a great feminist.

In truth, I've no idea what I'm more angry about. Calling Joss Whedon a rapist is definitely batshit crazy, not because I know for a fact he isn't. But the reasons (and I loathe to say reasons) behind her thought process, which led to this proclamation on such a public forum is exactly why innocent men can and have been accused of  rape. It also belittles Joss Whedon's wife, a woman whom I have no doubt is in a normal, healthy relationship. There is no proof she is a cowering, scared, and abused woman whose husband forces himself emotionally and physically. And yet, NaziFem would  point blank refuse to consider the very real possibility that she was wrong, and anyone who questioned her was either ignored, deleted, told they were obviously stupid and brain-washed by the evil man, or all of the above.

Is this feminism? Taking extremely biased and hate-filled opinions and using them to blast people as stupid and ignorant? Or worse, rapists? No. These "feminists" are not feminists.

Women who want equal rights are feminists. Women who are true feminists don't hate men just because they have a penis.

Women like NaziFem don't want equality. They're guilty of the worst kind of hypocrisy. Just as they assume every man in the world wants to belittle women and "keep them down", if they had it their way, the I AM WOMAN brigade wouldn't seek equality, but would just simply switch the gender roles as they see it and claim superiority over the men. They're guilty because they assume woman who don't agree with their views are stupid and brainwashed by the men, not that they might just hold different and no less valid opinions. And yes, just because I really don't agree with NaziFem's opinion doesn't mean I don't consider it valid. It is, to her. I pity her the same way she pities us poor little brainwashed women with minds of our own.

I want equality. True equality. I want a world that doesn't base opinion on gender, sexuality, race or creed - but personality, talent and worth. I want people to respect, and respectfully agree or disagree with, everyone's else's opinions.

I don't think Joss Whedon rapes his wife. I don't think Mrs Whedon would appreciate the fact anyone would implicate her husband like that.

If that makes me brainwashed, then so be it.

Sometimes, I love it when my boyfriend takes the initiative too.

Suck it.

Damnit

I've realised I can still see... I shouldn't really look back. Or be so damned nosy.

It hurts more than I thought. But then, it shocked me when it hurt at all.

You know that song? The internet really should be for porn. Only porn. And maybe shopping. Never for curious hopes that things are getting better, so you get nosy so you can find out if they are.

I'm away to finish my damn wine.