I got out of class a bit earlier than usual tonight. Silver linings all over the place! Ziggy is also home with me cause he got babysat by Jakers instead of his granny. I bought Ziggy a new orange ball. He's had two before that got lost. This one is extra special. It has strobe lighting that works on impact. It does come with warnings though. Two. One is for humans to not stare at the strobe lighting for too long or too closely. The other one is for the dog, saying it contains small parts and the ball is not a chew toy. I guess it's the sort of ball most responsible dog owners would avoid. I trust Ziggy with it though. Orange balls are not for chewing and he knows that. They are for losing.
Today was much easier not having to go to work. I left class at 7 O'Clock without feeling completely drained. In fact, I was feeling quite uplifted because I handed some work in after weeks of procrastination. But the Desert Song was not going to write itself. Even though it's a song about the desert (sort of) and we call it the Desert Song we can't officially call it that because Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros have already took that spot. We may call it the Dessert Song.
The calendar tells me it's one month to Christmas. The shops were telling me four weeks ago that it was Christmas but somehow I just didn't believe them. I believe the calendar though. They don't lie like the shops do. I won't panic yet. I'll wait until 5 days 'til Christmas before deciding that 'this shit got real'.
Monday, November 23, 2015
Sunday, November 22, 2015
J'amblet
Last night's music night was just like old times. When I say old times I mean like a few a months ago. Gus had been laying low for awhile but now he's back out to play, bringing much silliness with him. This past week's been busy. I slept in for work on Tuesday morning. I think I know why. Normally when I come home from class on a Monday night it takes a while for my brain to shut down. To be honest, I don't think it actually does shut down and whatever sleep I get on a Monday night is very light. I felt compelled to write a blog post this week after class and I reckon it got all those thoughts out of mind and cleared it for me to fall into a deep sleep. I slept through two alarms. I only woke when my phone was ringing to tell me my lift was there.
I'm off work for a few days. The plan was to get a bit of a rest before the Christmas rush. Ziggy peed on the Christmas tree at the bandstand today. I am proud of my little 'bah humbug' dog. Then we went to the beach with my dad and nieces. It was a nice day for it. Ziggy hasn't been to the beach since the roadtrip. He had forgotten all about being a beach dog.
I thought I had loads to write about but as it turns out, I don't. Had a strange dream last week that I had a hole in my belly and a fly crawled out of it. When I woke up I went to the toilet and my eye was drawn to something black on the floor. A fly. I thought that was kind of odd. Gus shared his insightful analysis of my dream. He thought it represented my desire to have children and my fear that I was getting older and, well, to put it bluntly, the fly represented my fear that my womb was rotting away. Then he told me he'd seen the fly in my bathroom wearing a nappy and sucking a dummy. Her name's J'amblet.
I'm off work for a few days. The plan was to get a bit of a rest before the Christmas rush. Ziggy peed on the Christmas tree at the bandstand today. I am proud of my little 'bah humbug' dog. Then we went to the beach with my dad and nieces. It was a nice day for it. Ziggy hasn't been to the beach since the roadtrip. He had forgotten all about being a beach dog.
I thought I had loads to write about but as it turns out, I don't. Had a strange dream last week that I had a hole in my belly and a fly crawled out of it. When I woke up I went to the toilet and my eye was drawn to something black on the floor. A fly. I thought that was kind of odd. Gus shared his insightful analysis of my dream. He thought it represented my desire to have children and my fear that I was getting older and, well, to put it bluntly, the fly represented my fear that my womb was rotting away. Then he told me he'd seen the fly in my bathroom wearing a nappy and sucking a dummy. Her name's J'amblet.
Monday, November 16, 2015
Collapse The Econony
It's late. Ok, it's not that late. 21:53 to be precise but I'm up at the screak of dawn (I'm sure there's something not right with that word 'screak' sounds a little made up. Maybe it's ulsterscots). I had to write though because today was class day and I just found my passion rekindled. We watched a Ted talk video, one that I'd seen before and had made an impression on me. It's about the power of vulnerability. Here's a link for those so inclined to embrace their own vulnerability. It's very empowering.
I am glad to be feeling this way about class again. One of the things Brene Brown talks about in her video is how humans are hard wired for meaningful connections. What prevents us from feeling connected to others is our inability to show our vulnerability which is, in essence, showing who we really are. Daring to be ourselves. I had been feeling disheartened, disconnected and ready to pack everything in. I love the days when I'm reminded of who I am, what's important to me and why I do what I do and try to achieve what I try to achieve. Both in my personal and professional life. They're intertwined with my values.
That doesn't stop the road ahead being uncertain and bumpy at times. But I'm an expert blowhole surfer at both ends of the spectrum. Another thing I learnt today is that the revolution will most definitely be started by women. I was pretty amazed to find out that the whole world's economy would collapse if women stopped buying cosmetic products. So here's another video, purely for educational purposes, to illustrate, in a rather explicit manner, how some girls are kinda fed up with the whole capitalism thing.
I am glad to be feeling this way about class again. One of the things Brene Brown talks about in her video is how humans are hard wired for meaningful connections. What prevents us from feeling connected to others is our inability to show our vulnerability which is, in essence, showing who we really are. Daring to be ourselves. I had been feeling disheartened, disconnected and ready to pack everything in. I love the days when I'm reminded of who I am, what's important to me and why I do what I do and try to achieve what I try to achieve. Both in my personal and professional life. They're intertwined with my values.
That doesn't stop the road ahead being uncertain and bumpy at times. But I'm an expert blowhole surfer at both ends of the spectrum. Another thing I learnt today is that the revolution will most definitely be started by women. I was pretty amazed to find out that the whole world's economy would collapse if women stopped buying cosmetic products. So here's another video, purely for educational purposes, to illustrate, in a rather explicit manner, how some girls are kinda fed up with the whole capitalism thing.
Friday, November 13, 2015
The Joblette
I did not do any schoolwork today (except read a little bit of a book called "The Myth of Suicide") and so I have words left over to blog. What shall I use them for hmmmm....
Someone I know was telling me about a bit of extra work they did on Game of Thrones. There were only four extras so they got the luxury of eating the same food as the actors. My friend was overjoyed at the breakfast buffet and especially charmed by the 'omelette station'. I asked him what he had. He said 'Everything. I had a cooked breakfast, mueseli, youghurt, fruit and a three egg mushroom omelette. Which was a mistake. Because an hour later I had to shit'. He went on to tell me that the costumes were particularly difficult to go to the toilet in but he realised that he could use the sword belt and buckle it really tight so the food could not go anywhere. Of course, once the belt was removed...well, he made it to the toilet but not without an uncomfortable bus journey to endure first.
It's the day of Fri. It's gone so cold. I have added another blanket to the bed and there's a hot water bottle waiting for me. I will fight this cold with heat!
Someone I know was telling me about a bit of extra work they did on Game of Thrones. There were only four extras so they got the luxury of eating the same food as the actors. My friend was overjoyed at the breakfast buffet and especially charmed by the 'omelette station'. I asked him what he had. He said 'Everything. I had a cooked breakfast, mueseli, youghurt, fruit and a three egg mushroom omelette. Which was a mistake. Because an hour later I had to shit'. He went on to tell me that the costumes were particularly difficult to go to the toilet in but he realised that he could use the sword belt and buckle it really tight so the food could not go anywhere. Of course, once the belt was removed...well, he made it to the toilet but not without an uncomfortable bus journey to endure first.
It's the day of Fri. It's gone so cold. I have added another blanket to the bed and there's a hot water bottle waiting for me. I will fight this cold with heat!
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Four Baldy Bastards
I like to believe that if I was cut open, rivers of words would flow out rather than rivers of blood. I should probably drink cans of red thesauri, to make sure the words never run out.
No more new songs lately. Except for the Desert Song. Jobe thinks it sounds very like Queens of the Stone Age. I said "Humph...but they never did a desert song" to which Jobe replied "Yes they did. They're from Palm Desert. Their record label did the Desert Sessions!" Well, fuck them anyway. Thinking they own the desert.
We're all pretty pleased with it. I think that's because it's the first song we've really written together. It started off as one of Jobe's many little riffs, Jakers added another guitar, I wrote some words and Tobe figured out the bass line. Jakers is always talking about 'The band'. I am still an advocate of 'music night' as opposed to 'band practice'. Jakers nearly quit and went solo. This is how it is when you're in a band. Us creative types can get very moody lol
I have to maintain my stance on what this was always about. It was, to some degree, about the music. Mostly, it was about friendship and people connecting over something fun and beautiful. If it starts to become all about the music it loses it's charm for me. When everything has to be done right, done to perfection, practiced ad infitum, I stop seeing it as a creative enterprise and more like a job.
I am hopeful it won't get that way. And, if a lucky coincidence occurs and we end up writing more songs this is just an added bonus to something that it is already pretty awesome. And if we do keep writing songs and working well together we might have to change the name of the band. The GCDC's were the name of a band who weren't really a band. They indulged playing songs only in G, C and D because it was easy and fun. Jakers wants me to shave my head so we can call ourselves Four Baldy Bastards.
No more new songs lately. Except for the Desert Song. Jobe thinks it sounds very like Queens of the Stone Age. I said "Humph...but they never did a desert song" to which Jobe replied "Yes they did. They're from Palm Desert. Their record label did the Desert Sessions!" Well, fuck them anyway. Thinking they own the desert.
We're all pretty pleased with it. I think that's because it's the first song we've really written together. It started off as one of Jobe's many little riffs, Jakers added another guitar, I wrote some words and Tobe figured out the bass line. Jakers is always talking about 'The band'. I am still an advocate of 'music night' as opposed to 'band practice'. Jakers nearly quit and went solo. This is how it is when you're in a band. Us creative types can get very moody lol
I have to maintain my stance on what this was always about. It was, to some degree, about the music. Mostly, it was about friendship and people connecting over something fun and beautiful. If it starts to become all about the music it loses it's charm for me. When everything has to be done right, done to perfection, practiced ad infitum, I stop seeing it as a creative enterprise and more like a job.
I am hopeful it won't get that way. And, if a lucky coincidence occurs and we end up writing more songs this is just an added bonus to something that it is already pretty awesome. And if we do keep writing songs and working well together we might have to change the name of the band. The GCDC's were the name of a band who weren't really a band. They indulged playing songs only in G, C and D because it was easy and fun. Jakers wants me to shave my head so we can call ourselves Four Baldy Bastards.
Sunday, November 08, 2015
The Ego and The Spark
The Ego. They say it is no good. We should let go of ego. But I disagree. We should be the master of our ego, not let our ego be the master of us. Our ego should be more dog, less cat. Though I don't particulalry like that analogy. It doesn't seem fair including animals in something that is distinctly human. Actually, no, I realise that is a naive assumption. Animals do display behaviour that would suggest they have some kind of ego. Like small, cocky dogs thinking they are tougher than they are, or cats who get embarassed when they do something stupid and start licking their privates as a way of hiding their shame.
I think the ego serves us to a certain degree. I like to be aware of what my ego is driving me to do, why it's driving me to do it, and what the outcome will be if I let it have it's wicked way. I mean, who doesn't want praise? Who doesn't want to be thought something of? I, personally, like those physical and metaphorical pats on the head. It makes me feel grounded and connected at the same time. The first time I put a video of my song on facebook I was genuinely surprised by the reaction it got. It was humbling to realise that people liked something I had made.
But will my ego get carried away with the praise and start churning out drivel just for the sake of hearing someone say it was good? I'd really like to hope not. Because then it loses it's essence. It's reason for being made is not to provoke self-affirming reactions from others. No, it's reason for being made was because it wanted to be made. A spark went off and I chose to nurture it because I realised, that spark, that poem, that song is part of me.
I think the ego serves us to a certain degree. I like to be aware of what my ego is driving me to do, why it's driving me to do it, and what the outcome will be if I let it have it's wicked way. I mean, who doesn't want praise? Who doesn't want to be thought something of? I, personally, like those physical and metaphorical pats on the head. It makes me feel grounded and connected at the same time. The first time I put a video of my song on facebook I was genuinely surprised by the reaction it got. It was humbling to realise that people liked something I had made.
But will my ego get carried away with the praise and start churning out drivel just for the sake of hearing someone say it was good? I'd really like to hope not. Because then it loses it's essence. It's reason for being made is not to provoke self-affirming reactions from others. No, it's reason for being made was because it wanted to be made. A spark went off and I chose to nurture it because I realised, that spark, that poem, that song is part of me.
Friday, October 30, 2015
Bad Week Good Week
This week has been a great week. I wonder was it really that awesome or is it just in comparison with the week before which was horrendous? Here's a snapshot of those two weeks.
Saturday night week one - get off the plane, Bert, Judy Pudding and Ziggy waiting for me. Dropped off at home. Boys come round with drink and we make music and catch up for a few hours. Realise it's midnight and get a taxi to the pub. Stay there until 3 in the morning. Go home, pass out.
Sunday - force myself to get out of bed at 11 so I can get to sleep at night. Regret my decision. Lie on the sofa feeling sorry for myself. Attempt a dog walk. Fail miserably but think Ziggy is just as tired as I am. Go to shop. Buy ice cream. Feel sorry for myself all day.
Monday - go to work. Survive. Go to class. Realise that I am not enjoying anything about this year whatsoever. Do 'here and now' exercise. Go home and try to process the days events.
Tuesday - Hard day at work. Overtime cut. Stress about money. Shattered. Music night. Everyone's playing an instrument except me. No inspiration for words. Want everyone to go home so I can sleep. Too polite. Should have used my infamous line from a night in Thailand "You can stay, just turn off the lights and don't make any noise"
Wednesday - Day off. Finally! Go to meet woman about placement starting in January. Woman cancelled. Not her fault. Would have made me feel productive but ho well.
Thursday - Hate work. Still stressed about cutbacks.
Friday - Same as above!
All in all rather depressing. Cutbacks at work have a serious knock on effect to me being able to finish my course, and, the way I was feeling last week I was ready to knock it all on the head. Then came the Golden Week.
Saturday - Get overtime in work. Raging. Had expected to go home early and had made my peace. Feeling all over the place. Then...late Saturday evening...text message from boss. Trying her best to get us the hours we need and wanting everyone to work together. Heart warmed. Working hard does pay off. Brilliant music session. Didn't go to the pub.
Sunday - Clear head. Energised. Ziggy walked, drawers decluttered, paperwork sorted, files organised, bed sheets changed. New woman. Buy ice cream.
Monday - Work good. Half term, no class, coursework started, yee ha!
Tuesday - Work good. Bonding session with flatmate. Tell him it is time he buys toilet paper. Music night good.
Wednesday - Meet with woman about placement. Find my mojo. Coursework flowing. Feeling productive.
Thursday - Work good, dog walk with Zen N, get lost in drawing a piture of the blowhole.
Today - Work exhausting, but good. Fridge full of yougurts and cheese.
Saturday night week one - get off the plane, Bert, Judy Pudding and Ziggy waiting for me. Dropped off at home. Boys come round with drink and we make music and catch up for a few hours. Realise it's midnight and get a taxi to the pub. Stay there until 3 in the morning. Go home, pass out.
Sunday - force myself to get out of bed at 11 so I can get to sleep at night. Regret my decision. Lie on the sofa feeling sorry for myself. Attempt a dog walk. Fail miserably but think Ziggy is just as tired as I am. Go to shop. Buy ice cream. Feel sorry for myself all day.
Monday - go to work. Survive. Go to class. Realise that I am not enjoying anything about this year whatsoever. Do 'here and now' exercise. Go home and try to process the days events.
Tuesday - Hard day at work. Overtime cut. Stress about money. Shattered. Music night. Everyone's playing an instrument except me. No inspiration for words. Want everyone to go home so I can sleep. Too polite. Should have used my infamous line from a night in Thailand "You can stay, just turn off the lights and don't make any noise"
Wednesday - Day off. Finally! Go to meet woman about placement starting in January. Woman cancelled. Not her fault. Would have made me feel productive but ho well.
Thursday - Hate work. Still stressed about cutbacks.
Friday - Same as above!
All in all rather depressing. Cutbacks at work have a serious knock on effect to me being able to finish my course, and, the way I was feeling last week I was ready to knock it all on the head. Then came the Golden Week.
Saturday - Get overtime in work. Raging. Had expected to go home early and had made my peace. Feeling all over the place. Then...late Saturday evening...text message from boss. Trying her best to get us the hours we need and wanting everyone to work together. Heart warmed. Working hard does pay off. Brilliant music session. Didn't go to the pub.
Sunday - Clear head. Energised. Ziggy walked, drawers decluttered, paperwork sorted, files organised, bed sheets changed. New woman. Buy ice cream.
Monday - Work good. Half term, no class, coursework started, yee ha!
Tuesday - Work good. Bonding session with flatmate. Tell him it is time he buys toilet paper. Music night good.
Wednesday - Meet with woman about placement. Find my mojo. Coursework flowing. Feeling productive.
Thursday - Work good, dog walk with Zen N, get lost in drawing a piture of the blowhole.
Today - Work exhausting, but good. Fridge full of yougurts and cheese.
Sunday, October 25, 2015
The Bonus Hour
Little J looks a lot like his mummy. I know this because I used to look at all of our baby photos. I am sure as he grows older he will resemble his father's features too but I think we tend to see our own genes in babies because they are more familiar to us. When I was a baby I only looked like one member of our family and that was a great aunt on my dad's side. It might just have been a coincidence though and mum even said recently she wonders if they gave her the right baby at the hospital. She's stuck with me now though!
Music has been going strong recently. We all feel like we're learning. I am learning less technical, musical instrument stuff than the boys but I am learning to be more confident and less ashamed of my creative pursuits. I remember the days when I tried to play in front of people and my throat would close over. I am less concerned about being perfect and more concerned with singing my heart out because it just feels so damn good. Blogger doesn't give me the option to upload videos or I would share one but, hey, the rate we're going you'll be able to see the GCDC's at the Royal Albert Hall in 2016 ;)
Oh, and I was pleased about the bonus hour this weekend. Not as pleased as I'll be next March when we're minus an hour but I have to see the silver lining at the minute.
Sunday, October 11, 2015
Photos Replace Words
Life really is busy at the minute. The summer had me spoilt. I haven't even had time to see my nieces in weeks. The universe planned to rectify this by chance meetings in the street twice in two days and then a short visit from them today. Even the briefest of interactions with them make me happy. And when they haven't seen me in a while they are full of smiles and cuddles and kisses.
Even more exciting, I get to meet my nephew on Wednesday. Katkins can't wait to introduce her little darling to one of his aunties and I can't wait to meet him. This means that Mr. Zigatron Grumbleface Marley will have to spend four whole days away from me. I expect lots of licking and snurfling and grumbles when I get back.
I can see now that I have the option to upload photos. I might as well add some colour to the palace.
Even more exciting, I get to meet my nephew on Wednesday. Katkins can't wait to introduce her little darling to one of his aunties and I can't wait to meet him. This means that Mr. Zigatron Grumbleface Marley will have to spend four whole days away from me. I expect lots of licking and snurfling and grumbles when I get back.
I can see now that I have the option to upload photos. I might as well add some colour to the palace.
Wednesday, October 07, 2015
Two New Songs and a Bouncy Ball
I was going to put up some photos of Ziggy the Beach Dog when we were on our road trip but blogger seems to have changed and I can't see any options to upload photos. Surely this can't be?
Perhaps the doctor's prescription of smarties wasn't such a bad idea as I seem to have perked up considerably. On Saturday night Ziggy and I headed out and I realise now that Ziggy is much more popular, more memorable and more loved than I am but this is the advantage of being a wee hairy dog baby with a little button nose and floppy ears. It was a fun night and it ended up with the usual friendly debate I have with everyone, in which I get accused of being naive because I truly believe that the world will become a better place.
Work has been more tolerable. The course has been a reminder of one of my most difficult ongoing challenges, which is my tendancy to procrastinate because of crippling insecurities. I ask myself everyday if I'm ready to be a counsellor and my heart and soul say yes and then my mind pipes in telling me all kinds of reasons why I'm not ready. On the plus side, all of the worry and doubt around the course has been replaced by lots of creative inspiration. I might not be focusing on my studies as much as I feel I should but I've written two new songs in a week and so at least I'm being productive in some way. This consoles me. Also, I made a bouncy ball. I told my tutors this when they asked each of us to say one positive thing that had happened that week with regards to our placement. One of them looked baffled. I thought she was questioning my commitment but she just wanted to know how I had made a bouncy ball.
Perhaps the doctor's prescription of smarties wasn't such a bad idea as I seem to have perked up considerably. On Saturday night Ziggy and I headed out and I realise now that Ziggy is much more popular, more memorable and more loved than I am but this is the advantage of being a wee hairy dog baby with a little button nose and floppy ears. It was a fun night and it ended up with the usual friendly debate I have with everyone, in which I get accused of being naive because I truly believe that the world will become a better place.
Work has been more tolerable. The course has been a reminder of one of my most difficult ongoing challenges, which is my tendancy to procrastinate because of crippling insecurities. I ask myself everyday if I'm ready to be a counsellor and my heart and soul say yes and then my mind pipes in telling me all kinds of reasons why I'm not ready. On the plus side, all of the worry and doubt around the course has been replaced by lots of creative inspiration. I might not be focusing on my studies as much as I feel I should but I've written two new songs in a week and so at least I'm being productive in some way. This consoles me. Also, I made a bouncy ball. I told my tutors this when they asked each of us to say one positive thing that had happened that week with regards to our placement. One of them looked baffled. I thought she was questioning my commitment but she just wanted to know how I had made a bouncy ball.
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Dr. Smarty Pants
Yesterday I went to the doctors. I'm not even sure what these people do. I think they might just enjoy looking in your ears, poking your stomach and then telling you there's bugger all wrong with you and give you a prescription of smarties. Yes, I'm pretty sure that's all they do.
No, no, I know they are a bit more useful than that but, often that's how I feel after visiting them. Baring in mind, I'm 33 and I only go to the doctor when I absolutely have to. In the past this has mostly been to deal with depression. Same thing normally happens, they ask you a few questions "Do you feel that life is worth living?" which is pretty much a more sensitive way of asking "Would you like to top yourself?" and then they weigh you and tell you you're underweight and that diet and mood are directly linked and how are you meant to feel happy when your body has nothing to feel happy with. So they prescribe you some smarties to put on weight.
I'm being very unfair though. Some doctors are better than others and I have dealt with some very decent ones. The one yesterday didn't seem to take my sinus problem overly seriously though. I tried to point out to him exactly where I thought the tumour was growing in my frontal lobe and the swelling it was causing all down my eyes and nose (I think hypochondria runs in my family...I never actually mentioned anything about a tumour on my frontal lobe but if he had been a fit doctor to practice he would have noticed it straight away). So off he sent me with a nasal spray and some smarties. The tumor told me last night it would have preferred skittles but. seemingly, they are more expensive to produce.
Whilst I recognise that we are lucky to have any kind of system in place that provides us with free(ish) health care often I wonder would I not just be better taking the medicine that nature had already provided for us. Homeopathy all the way!
No, no, I know they are a bit more useful than that but, often that's how I feel after visiting them. Baring in mind, I'm 33 and I only go to the doctor when I absolutely have to. In the past this has mostly been to deal with depression. Same thing normally happens, they ask you a few questions "Do you feel that life is worth living?" which is pretty much a more sensitive way of asking "Would you like to top yourself?" and then they weigh you and tell you you're underweight and that diet and mood are directly linked and how are you meant to feel happy when your body has nothing to feel happy with. So they prescribe you some smarties to put on weight.
I'm being very unfair though. Some doctors are better than others and I have dealt with some very decent ones. The one yesterday didn't seem to take my sinus problem overly seriously though. I tried to point out to him exactly where I thought the tumour was growing in my frontal lobe and the swelling it was causing all down my eyes and nose (I think hypochondria runs in my family...I never actually mentioned anything about a tumour on my frontal lobe but if he had been a fit doctor to practice he would have noticed it straight away). So off he sent me with a nasal spray and some smarties. The tumor told me last night it would have preferred skittles but. seemingly, they are more expensive to produce.
Whilst I recognise that we are lucky to have any kind of system in place that provides us with free(ish) health care often I wonder would I not just be better taking the medicine that nature had already provided for us. Homeopathy all the way!
Sunday, September 27, 2015
In The Hedgerow
Music night was quiet last night with just Jakers and I blasting out a few tunes. I played him a new song I'd written and he was very sweet with his feedback. I still don't take it too seriously because all I have are the bare bones of song writing. Then again, isn't that how all songs start out?
I've started to do a bit more writing in general which is good. Every once in a while I feel very passionately about my writing and I want it to "go places". Where, I'm not exactly sure because the world is getting so full up of stuff that sometimes it feels like there's no room for any more words, or songs, or pictures. After spending time in Connemara I realise that I could happily retreat there and plug into the wild, rustic nature to inspire some kind of book. I think I'd like to live in a hedgerow.
As always, when I fill my days with creative pursuits there is not so much left over for my blog. My wee dried-up diary! And isn't it funny how I have grown to become so affectionate about it? I speak of my blog as an actual 'thing' when all it really is is a part of me. So, I guess it's kind of good and positive to feel affectionate towards it.
Here's a picture of the treehouse drawn by me and coloured in by M.
I've started to do a bit more writing in general which is good. Every once in a while I feel very passionately about my writing and I want it to "go places". Where, I'm not exactly sure because the world is getting so full up of stuff that sometimes it feels like there's no room for any more words, or songs, or pictures. After spending time in Connemara I realise that I could happily retreat there and plug into the wild, rustic nature to inspire some kind of book. I think I'd like to live in a hedgerow.
As always, when I fill my days with creative pursuits there is not so much left over for my blog. My wee dried-up diary! And isn't it funny how I have grown to become so affectionate about it? I speak of my blog as an actual 'thing' when all it really is is a part of me. So, I guess it's kind of good and positive to feel affectionate towards it.
Here's a picture of the treehouse drawn by me and coloured in by M.
Sunday, September 20, 2015
Back To Work :(
It seems that the more one enjoys one's time off from work the harder it is for one to go back to work. Getting back to reality after the roadtrip was hard. Well, no, getting back to work was hard. In the wilderness the energy is pure and serene. In work the energy is toxic. But this week also brought with it the start of my second year of my degree. Scary times ahead. Scary because of the financial commitment and the deadlines. Everything else is the 'unknown' and that kind of excites me. My motto for this year is something I told myself a while ago. The only person that's pointing a gun to my head is myself. And it's not so much a gun, more like a brain-jobby-poking-stick-device to wiggle in my ear and stimulate my senses.
On Tuesday night we had a few more faces to our jamming session. One is a fella named Jobe (I probably shouldn't give him a nickname that so closely resembles jobby but I like the name Jobe and I like the guy so that's what I'm gonna call him). Jobe is an actual proper bassist so that's always handy. The other guy is called Tobe (I'm feeling uninspired at the minute) and he's an actual proper guitarist so that is also very handy. Since I now feel completely inadequate as a guitarist I have been forced to pick up the saxophone and convince myself that it won't take long before I'm a jazz funkist.
Music night is always different. When Gus is here it is a goofball session. This is when we do really bad covers and play our own ridiculous songs. When Jobe is here we take ourselves a bit more serioously and try to perfect the covers that we can sort of play. When Tobe is here we get all inspired about writing our own songs that are not ridiculous because we have an actual proper guitarist who can write music.
Other than music night the week has been rather lacklustre. Work is sucky. I'm broke and feeling drained. On the plus side, I managed to save myself £200 by using my common sense. My guitar was sounding awful and I thought I was going to have to buy a new one. Instead I bought some new strings and now she's playing like a dream.
On Tuesday night we had a few more faces to our jamming session. One is a fella named Jobe (I probably shouldn't give him a nickname that so closely resembles jobby but I like the name Jobe and I like the guy so that's what I'm gonna call him). Jobe is an actual proper bassist so that's always handy. The other guy is called Tobe (I'm feeling uninspired at the minute) and he's an actual proper guitarist so that is also very handy. Since I now feel completely inadequate as a guitarist I have been forced to pick up the saxophone and convince myself that it won't take long before I'm a jazz funkist.
Music night is always different. When Gus is here it is a goofball session. This is when we do really bad covers and play our own ridiculous songs. When Jobe is here we take ourselves a bit more serioously and try to perfect the covers that we can sort of play. When Tobe is here we get all inspired about writing our own songs that are not ridiculous because we have an actual proper guitarist who can write music.
Other than music night the week has been rather lacklustre. Work is sucky. I'm broke and feeling drained. On the plus side, I managed to save myself £200 by using my common sense. My guitar was sounding awful and I thought I was going to have to buy a new one. Instead I bought some new strings and now she's playing like a dream.
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Road Trip
I didn't get a chance to blog before Ziggy, Mel and I headed on our roadtrip. We are back now and an awesome time was had by all. We started off on Saturday night by sleeping in the treehouse. It was dark when we arrived but we had a cosy fire and a few drinks to warm us. We settled down for the night, blew out the candles, switched off the lights and it suddenly occurred to me that it was actually roasting. I looked at the pot bellied stove and said to Mel "Is it just me or is that fire so hot the stove's actually glowing red?" Mel concurred, it was glowing red. I opened the windows and kept checking Ziggy's head to make sure it was cooling down. I didn't want to start the roadtrip with a dog that had been fried during the night.
We woke in the morning, lit another fire while we had coffee and then bundled ourselevs into the car where we made our way to Connemara. There was much fun and excitement on the drive down. Ziggy had no idea what lay ahead of him. I had no idea that Actons Eco Campsite would be so nice and peaceful and picturesque. We arrived in the evening and pitched our tent. That was our home for the next two days and a lovely home it was too. One sad thing did happen here but, really, it wasn't that sad at all. I had bought Ziggy a brand new orange ball and we were playing with it on the beach. I threw it into the sea in the hope that Ziggy would bravely retrieve it. He didn't. I kept trying to encourage him as I watched the orange ball floating off in the direction of America. It was only sad for me however, Ziggy didn't give a hoot (which was just as well as we ended up stepping into unkown territory that completely forbade "hooting"). I consoled myself with the belief that the ball would float to America and a little Jack Russell type pup with a 'kerchief around it's neck would find it and be so very proud.
As we were leaving Connemara we stopped off to take some photos of a very oppressive looking Church type building. Mel noticed a dog running down the road chasing a car. We thought perhaps the dog was crazed, rabid even, and then it disappeared. We spotted it in the car it had been chasing. I think it didn't take kindly to being left behind and had proceeded to chase it's owners.
We were a little disorganised in Sligo (although that was kind of the plan-to have no plan) and we ended up staying at a campsite on the beach. It was ok. We couldn't have a proper campfire and there was absolutely no shelter from the sea spray. We'd also put the tent up rather haphazardly and so poor Mel woke up with wet tent flapping around her head. We left quickly and made our way to Fanad in Donegal.
Fanad was pure bliss. We had a caravan to make a proper dinner and we had foraged plenty of wood for a decent beach fire. We sat on a blanket drinking, playing geetar and looking up at the night sky where the stars were so bright and magnificent. My soul felt completely at peace. Ziggy roamed the beach and paddled in the water. Mel and I discussed matters of importance and matters of complete shite. The next day we went to Ards Forest park and forgaed for more wood. I stopped off at an old disused bakery and took photos of creepy things. We spent another night on the beach star gazing and playing music.
Then it was time to come home. We made up a comfy bed for Ziggy in the back seat as we knew he'd be so tired. He was. We stopped at Every Woods and had a poke about. We stopped in with Mum and Bert to tell them all about our adventure. Bert particularly liked the 'no hooting' story. We were driving around Sligo looking for somewhere to pitch the tent and we saw a sign that said "No hooting". We both thought it rather odd. Mel thought it meant 'no looting' and I thought it meant no hooting your horn but it didn't really sit right with me. Then we came upon another sign that said "No Shooting" and Mel exclaimed "Awww, we definitely can't camp here, we can't do anything here, no hooting, no shooting!" I pointed out that it was very likely that the no hooting sign was a no shooting sign without the S. We decided against camping there anyway.
I've included a picture of our adventures. It doesn't include everything but it does show why it is so important for me to find someone to illustrate my stories. The midgies at Connemara National Park were not kind to us. The bigger dog is the crazy, rabid running dog and the small dog is the 'kerchiefed Jack Russell waiting in America for his orange ball.
We woke in the morning, lit another fire while we had coffee and then bundled ourselevs into the car where we made our way to Connemara. There was much fun and excitement on the drive down. Ziggy had no idea what lay ahead of him. I had no idea that Actons Eco Campsite would be so nice and peaceful and picturesque. We arrived in the evening and pitched our tent. That was our home for the next two days and a lovely home it was too. One sad thing did happen here but, really, it wasn't that sad at all. I had bought Ziggy a brand new orange ball and we were playing with it on the beach. I threw it into the sea in the hope that Ziggy would bravely retrieve it. He didn't. I kept trying to encourage him as I watched the orange ball floating off in the direction of America. It was only sad for me however, Ziggy didn't give a hoot (which was just as well as we ended up stepping into unkown territory that completely forbade "hooting"). I consoled myself with the belief that the ball would float to America and a little Jack Russell type pup with a 'kerchief around it's neck would find it and be so very proud.
As we were leaving Connemara we stopped off to take some photos of a very oppressive looking Church type building. Mel noticed a dog running down the road chasing a car. We thought perhaps the dog was crazed, rabid even, and then it disappeared. We spotted it in the car it had been chasing. I think it didn't take kindly to being left behind and had proceeded to chase it's owners.
We were a little disorganised in Sligo (although that was kind of the plan-to have no plan) and we ended up staying at a campsite on the beach. It was ok. We couldn't have a proper campfire and there was absolutely no shelter from the sea spray. We'd also put the tent up rather haphazardly and so poor Mel woke up with wet tent flapping around her head. We left quickly and made our way to Fanad in Donegal.
Fanad was pure bliss. We had a caravan to make a proper dinner and we had foraged plenty of wood for a decent beach fire. We sat on a blanket drinking, playing geetar and looking up at the night sky where the stars were so bright and magnificent. My soul felt completely at peace. Ziggy roamed the beach and paddled in the water. Mel and I discussed matters of importance and matters of complete shite. The next day we went to Ards Forest park and forgaed for more wood. I stopped off at an old disused bakery and took photos of creepy things. We spent another night on the beach star gazing and playing music.
Then it was time to come home. We made up a comfy bed for Ziggy in the back seat as we knew he'd be so tired. He was. We stopped at Every Woods and had a poke about. We stopped in with Mum and Bert to tell them all about our adventure. Bert particularly liked the 'no hooting' story. We were driving around Sligo looking for somewhere to pitch the tent and we saw a sign that said "No hooting". We both thought it rather odd. Mel thought it meant 'no looting' and I thought it meant no hooting your horn but it didn't really sit right with me. Then we came upon another sign that said "No Shooting" and Mel exclaimed "Awww, we definitely can't camp here, we can't do anything here, no hooting, no shooting!" I pointed out that it was very likely that the no hooting sign was a no shooting sign without the S. We decided against camping there anyway.
I've included a picture of our adventures. It doesn't include everything but it does show why it is so important for me to find someone to illustrate my stories. The midgies at Connemara National Park were not kind to us. The bigger dog is the crazy, rabid running dog and the small dog is the 'kerchiefed Jack Russell waiting in America for his orange ball.
Friday, September 04, 2015
Happy Birthday
The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure is 10 years old today. Wow! 10 years of my life that I might not have remembered had I not documented all the ups and downs, the trials and tribulations, the joy, the pain, the adventures, the failures, the people who left their mark on my heart, the triumphs. There was the incident with the potato and leek soup. There was the time I climbed through someone's window and the other time I climbed through someone's window. There were many adventures, many relationships and many lessons to be learned.
There were the times I didn't write, the times I wrote to pretend that everything was ok and the times I wrote directly from my heart. I know which I prefer. There's been off beat poetry, posts about nothing and the building of a treehouse. There have been many guest posts written by very talented dogs and probably twice as many animal epitaphs. There have been a whole host of business plans that never came to anything (though I am reluctant to give up on my enterprising) and I am still waiting to pass my driving test and do all those other things adults do.
It has most definitely been emotional. Many tears fell from my eyes and I fought through waves of hopelessness. Travels didn't always go according to plan, relationships didn't work out, friendships grew apart, there were fights, worries, fear, sadness. But I wouldn't change any of it for the world. Not one iota. I chose certain paths and I walked the road less travelled. There were thorns in my paw. But I met so many amazing people who helped me squeeze the thorns out. So many amazing people. And I always, always had my family, a very loving and supportive family. I can't say for sure that my blog will last another decade but, even still, it's the most committed I've been to anything my whole life so that has to count for something. Happy Birthday my wee blog!
There were the times I didn't write, the times I wrote to pretend that everything was ok and the times I wrote directly from my heart. I know which I prefer. There's been off beat poetry, posts about nothing and the building of a treehouse. There have been many guest posts written by very talented dogs and probably twice as many animal epitaphs. There have been a whole host of business plans that never came to anything (though I am reluctant to give up on my enterprising) and I am still waiting to pass my driving test and do all those other things adults do.
It has most definitely been emotional. Many tears fell from my eyes and I fought through waves of hopelessness. Travels didn't always go according to plan, relationships didn't work out, friendships grew apart, there were fights, worries, fear, sadness. But I wouldn't change any of it for the world. Not one iota. I chose certain paths and I walked the road less travelled. There were thorns in my paw. But I met so many amazing people who helped me squeeze the thorns out. So many amazing people. And I always, always had my family, a very loving and supportive family. I can't say for sure that my blog will last another decade but, even still, it's the most committed I've been to anything my whole life so that has to count for something. Happy Birthday my wee blog!
Wednesday, September 02, 2015
Through The Blowhole
Gus and I broke up last week. Nobody likes to read about break ups. People don't even like to hear about them. They assume that all break ups lead to heartbreak and that's not always true. When someone gets to a certain point in their life and they become romantically involved people tend to think "Oh, that's great, they've found 'the one'" I didn't assume anything about my relationship with Gus and I think that's why I was able to look at it with such clarity.
Another thing people tend to assume when there's been a breakup is that is was somebody's fault. I try not to look at things in terms of whose to blame. Gus and I were both completely open and honest throughout. There was no gameplaying and no bullshit. It was simply a case of it not being right for us at this particular time.
I am loathe to call it the'perfect breakup' only because people don't believe such things are possible. And, of course, I can only tell you how it is from my point of view. I am not Gus and I can't speak for him. But after some of the messier breakups I've had in life, it feels so much kinder and caring. Gus and I truly are good friends. We don't want to hurt each other and we know enough about human psychology to recognise the patterns that can develop when a relationship isn't right.
If Carlsberg did relationships it would have looked a lot like ours. We talked about surfing the blowhole. Maybe one day I can try to explain what the blowhole signified in our relationship. Although it sounds like it might be sexual, it's not. The blowhole is simply the cosmic channel through which the universe is created. It started with hair and spunk but I promise you it has nothing to do with sex.
But, yeah, we surfed the blowhole and it was fun. Then we had to be adults and I think we passed the test. Now we are just friends again and I feel very lucky to have had such a fun summer without too much bittersweetness. I am very much learning to enjoy these experiences for what they are at the time. I feel no need to cling onto something and mould it into what I think it should be, because then, it ceases to be what it was.
Another thing people tend to assume when there's been a breakup is that is was somebody's fault. I try not to look at things in terms of whose to blame. Gus and I were both completely open and honest throughout. There was no gameplaying and no bullshit. It was simply a case of it not being right for us at this particular time.
I am loathe to call it the'perfect breakup' only because people don't believe such things are possible. And, of course, I can only tell you how it is from my point of view. I am not Gus and I can't speak for him. But after some of the messier breakups I've had in life, it feels so much kinder and caring. Gus and I truly are good friends. We don't want to hurt each other and we know enough about human psychology to recognise the patterns that can develop when a relationship isn't right.
If Carlsberg did relationships it would have looked a lot like ours. We talked about surfing the blowhole. Maybe one day I can try to explain what the blowhole signified in our relationship. Although it sounds like it might be sexual, it's not. The blowhole is simply the cosmic channel through which the universe is created. It started with hair and spunk but I promise you it has nothing to do with sex.
But, yeah, we surfed the blowhole and it was fun. Then we had to be adults and I think we passed the test. Now we are just friends again and I feel very lucky to have had such a fun summer without too much bittersweetness. I am very much learning to enjoy these experiences for what they are at the time. I feel no need to cling onto something and mould it into what I think it should be, because then, it ceases to be what it was.
Friday, August 28, 2015
Worm Juice and Copulating Flies
I am at one with mother nature. So much so that insects like to do their business on me. I was holding a worm in the palm of my hand when I noticed it had secreted a yucky yellow liquid all over me. I couldn't tell you what the substance was I didn't see which end of the worm it came out of. Sitting at mum's today and she says "Hannah, there are two flies shagging in your hair", which I didn't mind until they fell out of my hair onto my biscuit.
Flies were the order of the day. Both mum and I swallowed one when we were out walking with the dogs. It was tremendously tickly. I thought I was going to cough out my spleen and mum said she felt her fly was doing ballet in her throat and she kept making noises like a cat does when it's hacking up hairballs. Mum stopped at a shop to get a drink and I suggested that ice cream would be a far superior remedy for fly inhalation.
We went to the monastery car park to eat our ice creams and do a spot of people watching. Mum remarked on the woman that walked by woth an army of children, "Wow, five kids, she's some doll....shit! The window's open". My mum is a careless people watcher.
Yesterday I fixed my washing machine. The pump was clogged full of blue tissue that had been in the pockets of my flatmate's trousers. There were a couple of times during the repair process that I thought I was going to have to call a man but then I realised that all the men I know are not the fixing washing machines type of men so I just got on with it myself. One more week and one more day at work and then it's Roadtrip time :)
Flies were the order of the day. Both mum and I swallowed one when we were out walking with the dogs. It was tremendously tickly. I thought I was going to cough out my spleen and mum said she felt her fly was doing ballet in her throat and she kept making noises like a cat does when it's hacking up hairballs. Mum stopped at a shop to get a drink and I suggested that ice cream would be a far superior remedy for fly inhalation.
We went to the monastery car park to eat our ice creams and do a spot of people watching. Mum remarked on the woman that walked by woth an army of children, "Wow, five kids, she's some doll....shit! The window's open". My mum is a careless people watcher.
Yesterday I fixed my washing machine. The pump was clogged full of blue tissue that had been in the pockets of my flatmate's trousers. There were a couple of times during the repair process that I thought I was going to have to call a man but then I realised that all the men I know are not the fixing washing machines type of men so I just got on with it myself. One more week and one more day at work and then it's Roadtrip time :)
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Philosophy, Lesbian Artists and Cannibal Movies: Something For Everyone
I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned before how my big sister Z very much encouraged me to write when I was younger. She read a poem I wrote at school and she suggested I get a notebook and write poems in it. So I did. The very first poem to go in it was short and sweet and quite philosophical for a ten year old. It was called Why?
Why I am?
I do not know,
Why I am me?
Why is it so?
And the thing is, I had really thought about this. I wanted to know why I was me, Hannah Bobo, and not somebody else. I didn't ponder it in a green-eyed way. I had no desire to be anyone else but I wanted to know why I existed and why I looked the way I looked and behaved the way I behaved. It was the start of my quest to figuring life out and it's probably why I reacted so badly to puberty, because I'd just started asking the important questions at an age where my body, and whole life, was about to change dramatically and I hadn't figured out the answer of who I was and why I was me before puberty hit and I started acting all moody and nonchalant.
I did some other writing that I probably threw away because it embrassed me but I wrote another one when I was 12 or 13 inspired by a picture my friend drew of me. I've turned it into a song now that's a bitch to play but I can already hear a nice trombone or clarinet melody to go with it. It's called Eily Was An Artist.
Eily was an artist,
She drew a picture of me,
There was something wrong with it,
She made me far too pretty.
She took me to her bedroom,
Where we stayed for most the night,
She said she'd like to hold me,
Just to get the feeling right.
Eily held me tight,
Then she beagan to draw me,
She looked into my eyes,
And she told me I was pretty.
Eily was an artist,
She drew a picture of me,
She liked to draw with her hands,
And tell me I was pretty.
I remember showing it to mum and she might have told me it was good had she not been slightly worried about the content. But my innocence was long gone when, at the tender age of 10, I walked in to find Nellybert watching The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover just at the scene where some dude's being forced to eat a dead man's cock. It is really no wonder I enjoy a good cannibal movie.
Why I am?
I do not know,
Why I am me?
Why is it so?
And the thing is, I had really thought about this. I wanted to know why I was me, Hannah Bobo, and not somebody else. I didn't ponder it in a green-eyed way. I had no desire to be anyone else but I wanted to know why I existed and why I looked the way I looked and behaved the way I behaved. It was the start of my quest to figuring life out and it's probably why I reacted so badly to puberty, because I'd just started asking the important questions at an age where my body, and whole life, was about to change dramatically and I hadn't figured out the answer of who I was and why I was me before puberty hit and I started acting all moody and nonchalant.
I did some other writing that I probably threw away because it embrassed me but I wrote another one when I was 12 or 13 inspired by a picture my friend drew of me. I've turned it into a song now that's a bitch to play but I can already hear a nice trombone or clarinet melody to go with it. It's called Eily Was An Artist.
Eily was an artist,
She drew a picture of me,
There was something wrong with it,
She made me far too pretty.
She took me to her bedroom,
Where we stayed for most the night,
She said she'd like to hold me,
Just to get the feeling right.
Eily held me tight,
Then she beagan to draw me,
She looked into my eyes,
And she told me I was pretty.
Eily was an artist,
She drew a picture of me,
She liked to draw with her hands,
And tell me I was pretty.
I remember showing it to mum and she might have told me it was good had she not been slightly worried about the content. But my innocence was long gone when, at the tender age of 10, I walked in to find Nellybert watching The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover just at the scene where some dude's being forced to eat a dead man's cock. It is really no wonder I enjoy a good cannibal movie.
Friday, August 21, 2015
A Quick Update
Today we are being treated to a rare sunny day in Norn Iron. 'Twould be a fine day for the park but I did that yesterday with my nieces and their chums. A bit of play therapy was much needed and it was a good park that we went to. Ziggy was at his Granny's for two nights and has returned a 'very good boy'. I think that might be more of a perspective thing though.
I did a bit of music making on Tuesday night with Zen-N. He has a four track so I can listen back to how woeful I sound. The GCDCs haven't played in a while and I feel the void. I harped on for so long about jamming and when it finally happened on a regualr basis I was happy. How is it that as soon as we get something we want in life we lose something else? Is there only a certain amount of space in our hearts for the things that we love? No, I don't believe so but, yes, things change.
So I downloaded a computer eight track mixing program and the GCDCs will live on in my hard drive until we get motivated again. If we ever do get motivated. I did find out that I have definitely got my placement which should start in the new year hopefully. This gave me a sense of being on the right track again. I seem to have developed an allergic reaction to driving lessons, or at least paying for them. I've had a flatmate now for two whole months without any drama whatsoever. The reason being is we keep completely different schedules and so we never see each other. Though he does keep eating my bananas. But what kind of person would I be to begrudge someone a few bananas. As long as he doesn't touch my mango!
I did a bit of music making on Tuesday night with Zen-N. He has a four track so I can listen back to how woeful I sound. The GCDCs haven't played in a while and I feel the void. I harped on for so long about jamming and when it finally happened on a regualr basis I was happy. How is it that as soon as we get something we want in life we lose something else? Is there only a certain amount of space in our hearts for the things that we love? No, I don't believe so but, yes, things change.
So I downloaded a computer eight track mixing program and the GCDCs will live on in my hard drive until we get motivated again. If we ever do get motivated. I did find out that I have definitely got my placement which should start in the new year hopefully. This gave me a sense of being on the right track again. I seem to have developed an allergic reaction to driving lessons, or at least paying for them. I've had a flatmate now for two whole months without any drama whatsoever. The reason being is we keep completely different schedules and so we never see each other. Though he does keep eating my bananas. But what kind of person would I be to begrudge someone a few bananas. As long as he doesn't touch my mango!
Saturday, August 15, 2015
Oh Mango
There are people in the world, y'know, who have never eaten mango. This makes me feel sad for them much more than I feel sad for the people who have never seen snow. But I also feel sad for them too. In fact, a lot of people who haven't eaten mango have the choice to eat it. They just never thought to try it.
I'm not sure when I first tried it but I do know that as soon as I tasted the sweet, floral nectar I knew that anything was possible. If something could taste so unique, so luscious and utopian, then life had to have a whole assortment of other treasures to discover. Very few fruits come close. Maybe lychees.
I've had a busy week catching up with folk, editing the wedding photos and being reminded that human beings are ridiculously crazy creatures and this thing we call 'life' is full of surprising twists and turns. All of it a very clever distraction from doing the things I should be doing, like passing my driving test and securing a placement.
Ziggy is telling me he needs his walk. He communicates this by coming over and putting the ball on the laptop. He does not respect the laptop, in fact, I'd go as far to say that he does not like the laptop. Except if it's playing the Doors. Today in work we had a fancy dress rock theme. I never participate in these things as I'm too lazy to organise anything but today involved me showing up in the clothes I normally wear anyway. Because, of course, I am in a band so therefore I dress like a rockstar.
I'm not sure when I first tried it but I do know that as soon as I tasted the sweet, floral nectar I knew that anything was possible. If something could taste so unique, so luscious and utopian, then life had to have a whole assortment of other treasures to discover. Very few fruits come close. Maybe lychees.
I've had a busy week catching up with folk, editing the wedding photos and being reminded that human beings are ridiculously crazy creatures and this thing we call 'life' is full of surprising twists and turns. All of it a very clever distraction from doing the things I should be doing, like passing my driving test and securing a placement.
Ziggy is telling me he needs his walk. He communicates this by coming over and putting the ball on the laptop. He does not respect the laptop, in fact, I'd go as far to say that he does not like the laptop. Except if it's playing the Doors. Today in work we had a fancy dress rock theme. I never participate in these things as I'm too lazy to organise anything but today involved me showing up in the clothes I normally wear anyway. Because, of course, I am in a band so therefore I dress like a rockstar.
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