Thursday, September 22, 2016

In A Nutshell

The bar that I drink in, the one where everyone knows my dog's name, will never be the same after one of the brothers who ran it died at the weekend. As one of my friends said, this was the bar where the misfits could go and not be looked at funny or judged. We went there because we knew we'd have a good time and not run into trouble. We went there because the people who owned it liked us, even cared for us. And we cared for them. We went there because the craic was mighty and there was always a friendly face. And if you didn't know the unfamiliar faces you always knew them by the end of the night. Of course, we'll still go there as long as it stays open but it will always feel a little emptier.

I found myself in receipt of a £500 bank refund. This was from over 10 years ago when they charged me extorniate interest on a student overdraft. I had been advised not to close the account by a fellow blogger. They said it would cost the bank for me to keep the account open with a couple of pounds in it. This was awesome advice for if I had closed the account I wouldn't have got the refund.

Apparently Nasa have now decided that there is a 13th zodiac sign. I'm not sure how I feel about this. Not because I am overly attached to my starsign or believe that it's gospel truth but more so because it is NASA who have decided this and, well, if that's what them dudes are spending all their money on that's just dumb. I've always believed that humans should really try and understand the earth and soil beneath their feet before trying to figure out the whole universe.

I'm feeling a bit like the warrior spirit is in me at the minute though I'm not entirely certain how to channel that. Normally it's through words but they haven't been coming to me so easily of late. I suppose a big part of my moving back home was to regroup and refocus. I wanted to disconnect for a bit. Now I find myself more than ever craving those deep, meaningful connections. But moving home has provided me with an opportunity to shed some old skin and decorate the blank canvas whatever way I want. Because, I am a work in progress and I have time and space to think about what way I want to nurture my passion and creativity. So that's the bad news, good news, stupid news and the tiny little fragment of my heart.

Thursday, September 15, 2016

Staghorn Stan and Watermelon Wine

A friend was asking how things were with me and I replied, "Busy. Busy, busy, busy" and I was informed that this is what the Bokonists whisper when they think about how complicated and unpredictable the machinery of life really is. I haven't read the book by Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle, and I'm not 100 per cent sure what a Bokonist actually is but such things are merely matters of consequence.

I have been meaning to update my blog for days. I keep signing in and then my mind goes blank. What have I really got to say for myself? I started back at tech. I have completed 54 hours of counselling. Just another 96 left to go. Work has been exhausting. I have spoken to about 300 people in the space of two weeks. I had no idea how sheltered my life actually was living in the town with only Ziggy and the Bad Girls for company. My guitar is feeling neglected. Song writing? What's that? Although I do have a working title called Staghorn Stan the Robber Man. He steals people's Staghorns. He also drinks watermelon wine and I'm a little bit jealous of him for that alone.

The tiredness I feel at the minute is probably going to be temporary. This is a time of readjustment and settling in to a new routine. Ziggy seems to have settled remarkably well. He still sneaks up to my room when I'm at work for an afternoon snooze.

This is the point where I struggle with a blog post. I'm too tired to think of a nice tidy ending. I'm aware I'm writing for the sake of it. I have excitement in me with regards to starting 3rd year but I'm too exhausted to express it. And maybe even thinking about the year ahead fuels my exhaustion more. It's probably wise to take one day at a time. 'Til I get a bit more used to this 'adulting' thing which I've never really been any good at. Hopefully the next post will have a bit more punch.

Tuesday, August 30, 2016

The Last Hurrah

One of the main reasons I decided to move back home was because I was suffering major flatmate burnout. Gus and I had a huge row one weekend, one that we will no doubt laugh hysterically about in the not too distant future, and I decided it wasn't such a good idea us living together. Of course people said "told ya so" but I have a tendency not to heed the advice of others. So after all that debating about what to do with the bonus I received from work I ended up using it to live a solitary, carefree month by myself. It was awesome but at the back of my mind I still had the niggling worry about who the next flatmate was. I then had a flurry of interest in the room and every single person was unsuitable. So I thought, as I often do in these situations; What Would Jesus Do? He'd go back and live with Mary and Joesph, or in my case, Mary and Bert.

I gave in my month's notice on the flat and then I really enjoyed my time alone. Well, for about 3 weeks, and then I felt that I had O.D'd a little watching the Bad Girls Club and I was, in fact, wanting to revert back to 'bad girl' tendencies and get drunk on Tequila and suchlike, and so on and so forth. I was tired of my own company. Ready to live communally again. As it happens, Nellybert's social life is far more prolific than my own and there's always a hive of activity but the option of solitude if needed.

But, alas, after 3 weeks I got a week off work and then I created my own hive of activity. Dirt Bird joined Nelly, the dogs, and I in Fanad and we had a wonderful time chilling, chatting and childhooding, which is a made-up word to make this sentence sound more punchy but basically means getting in touch with our inner child. We saw a Lookout Cow which we saluted and we mostly ate, cheese, bread and foosted fruit.

Thursday was my last night in the flat and the bad girl within me could not be contained. Jakers had been round picking some stuff up from me and I tempted him to join Ziggy and I for a drink at the pub. As always, everyone remembered Ziggy but wasn't quite sure who I was. It's always the nights you least expect it that turn out the best. We played guitar and chatted until the early hours of the morning and then it was Moving Day which went by smoothly enough considering my fragile state of being. The Super Duper Lovely Mels came to hang out and her mum took us to Mount Stewart the next day. Ziggy tried to take on a hissing swan with young cygnets. This would be Ziggy the dog who goes to pubs, listens to BBC Radio 4 and, quite frankly, should know better.

So that's what I've been at. Now here's a photo of a lily I was particularly endeared by :)

Saturday, August 06, 2016

Unexplained Bleeding From The Ears

One thing's for sure and that is I've been sleeping better at night. I'm guessing because I've eliminated a large amount of stress out of my life. That said, I did wake up out of my sleep last night and needed to go to the toilet. I switched the lights on in my bedroom and hallway to see where I was going but, for some reason, I was spooked. I've lived on my own before and I'm just not that easily scared in anymore. I'm so uneasily scared that when something does startle me and my heart races, I really like it. Because I know that I'm alive.

When I was a little girl I was scared of the dark. I could only sleep with the light on and when I woke up in darkness I hated it. I was also scared of sitting on the toilet seat as I imagined that a hand might come up and grab me and pull me down to the sewers. And I was petrified of mirrors. I did not dare to look into a mirror because I was convinced that something would move behind me, or my reflection would be an evil Hannah. The fear of mirrors came directly from movies I watched as a youngster. Cannibals I could handle, weird happenings in mirrors, I could not. Last night all three of these fears came back. My short trip to the toilet was an anxiety filled one. I imagined being pulled down into the faecal pit of doom. I didn't like turning the lights off behind me and letting the darkness catch up with me. I had to pass the mirror in the hall and I averted my eyes. I didn't look back once, just went straight back to the safety of bed where Zigatron would protect me. I was sleeping again within minutes, the residue of a thought on my mind; why was I so spooked?

It was much later today that I recalled the dream I was having just before I awoke. I was at work and it was announced over the tannoy that a body had been found at the front of the store. Then all the staff members were evacuated because they were going to have to quarantine the store. Epidemics play into one of my biggest fears. At least, I think I'm scared of them. I'm definitely fascinated by them and had been watching a show called Stranger Things last night and they were quarantining a research centre and I thought, "Yaaay! I love a good old 'outbreak' plotline, I hope there's some unexplained bleeding from the ears!" So I guess that's why I was dreaming about it.

I have to say, I actually kinda enjoyed feeling scared last night. I've had bad dreams before that have left me with an unsettled feeling all day long. They are dreams that also play into one of my biggest fears and that's when everyone hates me and they won't tell me why. I'm sure Freud would have a field day with that.

Sunday, July 31, 2016

The Way Forward

I haven't managed to do much writing for the Writing Project. It is a work in progress though and probably won't be ready for publication until sometime in 2045 when I'm a crazy old rat lady. So why, pray tell, have I not been blogging? I have developed a terrible addicition to a reality TV show called The Bad Girls Club. The name says it all really. It's trash TV but I am convincing myself it's for the purposes of counselling training. And so it is, kinda. I might not always like what these girls do but I can understand why they behave "badly" and I know they come from a place of hurt. Reality TV has always been fascinating to me because people are fascinating.

There has been a rather exciting development in my life. I've made the decision to move out of my flat and back home to the Dreen. The past four years have been incredibly unstable, challenging, rewarding and beautiful. It has been an absolute roller coaster with many, many ups and downs and all the way rounds. The wind has knocked me off my surfboard, I've clung on to the edge by my fingertips and I've sailed in the calmest seas of tranquility. I've broke down, cruised and crashed. I picked myself back up and brushed the desert off my hands. And my decision doesn't mean that I won't face troubled waters again but it will enrich the quality of my life for this stage of the journey. And it gives me back a little bit of control over my destiny. I was stuck for a long time. Still progressing in a lot of ways but stuck in a life that was stagnant. All because of money really.

I'm heading into the future with excitement and hope and a desire to wake up each day with a purpose; be happy, smile, work hard, stop and smell the roses, love, grow, be. Finish the final year of my course, get 150 hours, graduate. Learn to drive, save money, go travelling again. I only plan to go for 3 months and Ziggy will have been living at mum's for a while by then so it shouldn't be as big a shock to his system. I need something to look forward to and I can't think of anything better than the prospect of going away. My heart is warmed because Ziggy's life will be so much better too. He'll never be on his own when I'm at work, he can run and exercise all day long, eat calf shit, chase cats and run wild and free through the fields. Things are on the up!

Wednesday, July 06, 2016

Still Dreamin'

I've started a new writing project. Because, y'see, I haven't given up on my dream of one day becoming a published writer. At this stage of the game I think it mught be a more realistic dream than becoming a rock star. I'm not entirely throwing that notion out of the window either though.

The palace has been looking a bit drab of late so here's some pictures of dogs and a video of me singing about being broken.

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

My Analogy

Imagine the whole world was a human body. Every part of that body, every organ, every limb, every cell, represented the people of the world. Mostly the body is working together to keep itself healthy, but there are parts of that body that don't function so well. Say, for example, the little finger on the left hand of the body wasn't quite right. There was something wrong with that little finger and it wasn't fully connected to the rest of the body. It was made up of 'bad' cells. And one night when the body is sleeping the little finger of the left hand attacks the ring finger beside it. So the rest of the body suffers the loss of it's ring finger because of the actions of the little finger. What does the rest of the body do? It gets rid of the little finger because it doesn't trust it to not damage other parts of the body. What was disconnected from the body due to, let's say, a 'glitch' becomes fully disconnected from the body because it was amputated because of the fear of further risk. And a body can survive without the little finger on the left hand. And it can also survive the loss of it's ring finger.

Let's say though, that when that little finger was disconnected from the rest of the body it just withered away to nothing. It rotted and decayed until eventually there was nothing left. That's pretty much what happens to things like that. But do the 'bad' cells just wither and rot and decay until they too disappear? Probably not. Because those 'bad' cells are part of the body as a whole, not just the little finger. So the finger is gone but the 'bad' cells just find a new part of the body to reside in. They go to the big toe on the right foot. The same thing happens and the body is now missing two fingers from the left hand and two toes from the right foot. All of a sudden the body doesn't trust itself. Where organs used to work together for the greater good they now fend for themselves and trust no other parts of the body as they may contain traces of the 'bad' cells. But they don't work so well on their own. They were designed to work together. The whole biological system of the body is in chaos. Limbs are amputated until the body is immobile. Eventually everything fails, with the heart the last to give up.

How can the body prevent this from happening? How can the body cut out the 'bad' cells without becoming completely disconnected from itself? How do we stop the little finger from starting all this nonsense. I guess I don't know anything for sure but maybe the little finger felt disconnected for a reason. Did the rest of the body stop to think about what that reason may be, or did it act quickly and impulsively out of fear and a necessity for self-preservation? Did it do a good job of preserving itself? Did it believe that the little finger would surely act again and so it was better off amputated? Did it ever stop to think that, since it was the same body, connected to the same heart, that maybe it was just as responsible for the actions of the little finger as the little finger was? Or did it find blame and fear easier to comprehend than compassion and understanding?

So the body is the world, and each organ and limb are the people in the world and they are all connected, except some don't feel or understand that connection so we get rid of them because we think they're going to poison and spoil eveything. Except that the 'bad' cells are part of the body as a whole, not just specific limbs and organs. And when things get tough, complicated or scary, instead of trying to understand where these 'bad' cells came from we try to eradicate them by any means necessary, until eventually the whole system collapses, because we don't know how to understand or look after ourselves. Not really. We don't see that we are all just one big body connected to one big heart and, one day, if we don't try to start listening and understand each other, that heart will stop beating.