She's in bed, typing away with coffee-burned fingers, her mind fully aware of the absolute state of chaos her house is in. Trying to cope with it has apparently fallen out of fashion, so she does this instead.

She doesn't mind his things coming to stay. A life, 35 years of collecting, resides in the hall and there's just nowhere to put it yet. A blow up bed is deflated in the living room, as she refuses to let her sister stay in her own flat, where it's not safe. All these little clutters are a beast of her own making, but instead of trying to sort it out she lies in bed and types.

She hears the clank of metal buttons scrapping the glass of her washing machine as it spins round. The traffic from behind the still-closed blinds in her bedroom. But she sits apart, wondering why she doesn't just do something. Anything.

She's always happier when she shakes off the moss and her nose is itchy from the smell of cleaning spray as she goes about cleaning, wiping, polishing. She giggles when she does the Shake'N'Vac dance and the powder falling to the floor makes her sneeze. But right now it seems like no matter how she tidies, the place still seems grubby.

Her state of mind is inherently linked to the state of her home. One feeds the other, and vis versa. So, when her home feels spoiled and wrong, so does she - and the feeling gets worse so the house goes neglected as a physical representation of her fractured mind. She knows this is not a new occurrence. She remembers Tarfside, and shudders.

She's off-kilter right now. So she sits in darkness, and waits for something to change.

Stay or go?

I've been neglecting this poor blog for a while now. I know, I'm a bad Miz.

Truth is, I've been writing on another blog. One I've not published yet, so I won't link it quite yet. It just seems like the time to make a change, so much has happened in my life since I first started this blog and I feel I want my blog to reflect that. Plus, there's been quite a few people now telling me I should write, like, really write, and I'm finding it harder to ignore them. I could keep this one going and start the other afresh, I'm not entirely sure on my decision on that yet. The posts I've written for the other blog aren't always as personal as this one, and I'm still in two minds as to how personal I want to go. I've set myself the target of writing at least 2 posts a week until the end of the month, when I will be publishing it, so I'll have a backlog of posts, and always have content ready.

Ah, I'll see.

It'll be interesting to find out.

In the meantime, I'm going to bash my neighbour's door in until they turn down the fucking tv. I'm starting work at 7am, and they should be politely informed of that fact.

Procrastination

Tomorrow I'll be having a birthday party, and my house will be filled with most of my nearest and dearest. My kitchen is clean and tidy, except the little counter top with all my baking stuff (I'm making peanut butter cookies). I need to tackle the little corner in my hall, obviously, putting random stuff there so I'll deal with it hasn't exactly worked... for 3 weeks. Eek.

So. Yeah. I'm supposed to be tidying. So why am I sitting here instead, I hear you ask.

Hello. Have we met?

I'm alone and I have internet access.

I'm also putting off doing that hall. It will involve going downstairs to the bins, and to the charity shop.

And do you know what? I actually got my act together and went to film the flat for your viewing pleasure (and to show off our new TV) and guess what? I couldn't find the bleeping camera. Grrr.

Right, I'm off. Honest. Need to polish, hoover, and then I won't feel so bad pampering myself tonight.

Either that, or I'm going to go play Super Mario 3.

I'll never tell ;)

It's worthy of a blog post!

So, I'll be blogging and videoing later, but I have some very exciting news.

I. Am. Cooking. Tonight.

ME!

Not Gof, who, I'm lucky to say, LOVES cooking.

What I don't like though, is whenever I do try to cook, Gof hangs over my shoulder and asks me what I am doing/how I'm doing it/why I'm doing it/don't you think you should...

AAARRRGGGHHH

So, he's barred from MY kitchen tonight.

I'm cooking.

And what am I cooking?

Well, I'll be buying...

Chicken
Pineapple
Red onion
Mango
Brown rice
Jalapeño
Lime

....

I'll take pictures later!

Today, I am 26

I've still got a lot of growing to do. Each truth I discover throws up more questions and mistakes I've yet to make.

I will inevitably let people down. I don't like it, and will strive to make sure it doesn't happen, but I know that the more I learn about myself, the more likely my ideals and motives will change and with that, essentially invalidating contradicting and until then, completely sincere promises.

It's not nice to know that about myself. But, I suppose, at least I know.

But anyway....

I don't care as much about losing weight as I do about feeling fit. You may think it's the same thing, but it isn't.

I seek strength from my closest friends, and can't help mother some of them.

I want exactly what I have, squared.

I still don't want kids.

I will never be sick of feeling the grass between my toes.

Or laughing at dirty jokes.

Or hearing my nearest and dearest laugh, for that matter.

I love finding common ground between me and new people in my life.

As much as I love my holiday, I'm almost missing work.

I still love Zero 7.

I love surprising people, in the nicest of ways.

Stephen Fry is THE MAN.

I'm sick of the Go Compare ads.

I want ice cream.

And that's just today! Thoughts and feelings that may have occurred to me before, some new - but all have been on my mind today.

Happy Birthday to me. I'm grateful for so much, and can't wait to see what this year brings.

I dreamed we were there. The plane leapt the tropopause, the safe air, and attained the outer rim, the ozone, which was ragged and torn, patches of it threadbare as old cheesecloth, and that was frightening. But I saw something that only I could see, because of my astonishing ability to see such things: Souls were rising, from the earth far below, souls of the dead, of people who had perished, from famine, from war, from the plague, and they floated up, like skydivers in reverse, limbs all akimbo, wheeling and spinning. And the souls of these departed joined hands, clasped ankles, and formed a web, a great net of souls, and the souls were three-atom oxygen molecules, of the stuff of ozone, and the outer rim absorbed them, and was repaired. Nothing's lost forever. In this world, there's a kind of painful progress. Longing for what we've left behind, and dreaming ahead. At least I think that's so.

-Harper Pitt, Angels In America

And, I'm gone.

I had to do it. I really don't know what else to say, that won't sound horrible or bitchy. I respect that change happens, but to happen so damn quickly, casually tossing aside thoughts and feeling I long held to be important... I couldn't, and won't, be a part of it. I see things only from my point of view, as everyone does, and I can't stop feeling the way I do. It might be wrong, but it's my instinct, and I ignore that at my peril. I did try to ignore, stop reading between the lines, but I don't know how something so special twisted into something painful.

Is it really so important that I'm around? It doesn't seem so, and I'd rather not push a connection that seems to be severed beyond all repair. Simple fact is, logical or not, any decision made impacts more than can ever be predicated. It's the sad side to ripples in the water, far reaching consequences of a decision made to benefit the self.

Maybe it's a testament to the importance someone holds, even when they don't realise it. Put on a pedestal and unwittingly disappoint when it's revealed you have flaws like anyone else.

Regardless. This wasn't about taking sides. It never was. I took the decision to remove myself from more upset, more anger, and what was fast becoming hate. I never expected those sort of feelings to arise in this friendship, and I would rather leave it alone now, than it descend into a mutual headlock where nothing can be salvaged because I can't bring myself to agree with the choices you have made.

The funny thing is, in my position, I suspect you'd feel the very same.