Backyard Babies

Sometimes I underestimate the power of life. I am amazed by the sheer strength and will that a living thing will exuberate, just to keep on living, growing and being beautiful. Of course, Pearlie's death also taught me that when something gives up the will to live, and go on peacefully to the next stage, there is a strength and will in that too. I once wrote about a plant that my friend Dirt Bird gave me as a housewarming gift. Oh, what a source of guilt that turned out to be as I let it die of starvation. It has been said by many people, many times, that one should not own a pet unless they are capable of looking after a plant. As it was, I had the rats already and it was kinda because of them that I let the plant die. That's not to say I'm trying to shift the blame. I take full responsibility. Instead of feeling guilty I now look back on that plant and wonder if, perhaps, I had to let it die because there was something negative in me that I needed to let go of. Or maybe that's just how I have reasoned it to alleviate the guilt and shame that I couldn't even give a plant a taste of water every once in a while.

Last year I decided I would like to plant a tree and learn the art of Bonsai. The quest started with digging up some saplings. I repotted four altogether. I left them out in the back yard and tended to them every once in a while. The winter came and, along with it, my heart was broken and I had barely the energy to nurture myself let alone these saplings that I had hoped would grow healthy and strong. Thery stayed out in the backyard all through the harsh winter and they died. I would look at them periodically, feeling a kind of nostaligia about how excited and hopeful I had felt when I first planted them. I had no guilty associations. I had started to learn that guilt was not a trusted friend but a sleekit one that would try to hold me back. Then, with the first whispers of Spring, when everything else was beginning to awaken, I noticed that two of the saplings were clinging onto life. In that desolate backyard these saplings had held onto a glimmer of hope. They wanted to be bonsai trees. That was their destiny.

I took them out to Nellybert's and repotted them after trimming their roots (Bert winced when I did this but that's what makes a bonsai tree a bonsai). They still have a long way to go (about 15 years) before they look like they are supposed to but what's 15 years in the grand scheme of things? They are now flourishing and amongst all the nature and greenery that the countryside has to offer as opposed to the grey concrete of the town.

The Lovely Mel also bought me a plant last year. Obviously the fact that my friends now buy me plants for my house is a sign that I am some kind of adult. This plant showed off beautiful flowers for a week and then it began to wither and fade. Everyone in my family is a keen gardener and possess more than a shred of common sense when it comes to such things. I saw the flowers die and assumed the whole plant had died. So out it went into the backyard as well. Whilst I liked to keep an eye on the tree saplings I became completely oblivious to this other plant. But, a week ago I noticed it and realised that it had began to grow again and was just about ready to bloom. The original stalk is dead. It juts out of the plant pot to remind me that it has been reincarnated, once again, into something beautiful. Of course, people that know about plants and trees and nature, know that they can grow anywhere. It's just that I believed that nothing could thrive in such a desolate place.

Warm Warm Warm Weather

Pearlie's funeral happened to be on one of the warmest days of the year so far. This was fitting as she hated being cold and would bumfle herself up in as many layers as possible. My reading was difficult to do. The sadness kind of hit me when I got up to read about her and I felt my voice start to crumple. I managed to compose myself and was able to finish the tribute.

The awesome weather continued for the next few days. I stayed at mum's on Wednesday night and all day Thursday. The girls were out and they entertained us with their childlike imaginations. We painted for a while and then played a game on the trampoline that was called "Go Mad and Crazy". This involved me bouncing around like a loon with arms and legs flailing all over the place while I shouted "Everything's all mad and crazy". The girls joined in until we'd all fall in a heap laughing our heads off.

Friday was even warmer and when I cam home from work I discovered Ziggy hadn't been well. He'd had a few accidents on the floor, seemingly, from both ends and I was a bit concerned about taking him out for a long walk. I hooked up with Z and her brood and we drove to the river path so all the dogs could have a dip in the water to cool them down. Ziggy ran around with Maya and didn't seem the slightest bit unwell. I came home from work yesterday afternoon and the flatmate told me Ziggy had had another wee accident in the morning. He seemed ok and I took him for a walk around Portglenone forest with someone who owns an American Akita. Ziggy and the Akita had a great game of chase and dipped themselves in the water. I went out to Nellybert's after and Ziggy spent the next four hours playing with Jess. My mum looked at him and said "I thought you said Ziggy wasn't well."

This morning I have watched him out in the backyard and he's had more bouts of diarrhea and vomiting. I don't know if it's been the heat, or something he ate, but even when he's not well he just wants all the fun there is to be had. He's resting now for the first time in days. Meka is also not a hundred per cent. She has started to grow another mammory tumour, this time on her side. I don't think I will put her through another big operation as she is in the final stage of her life. Rats only live until there about 3 years old and Meka is two and a half. By the time the lump grows to a size where it's starting to affect her she will be dying of old age anyway. That will be the last little ratty I keep for a while. This morning I had her up on the sofa with Ziggy and I. She lay in below my dressing gown and came out every once in a while to sniff Ziggy.

A Sweet Goodbye

Pearlie Blue passed away on Sunday, peacefully at home with Bert holding her hand. She'd had a tough couple of days but, thankfully, she didn't suffer unnnecessarily. Everything happened so quick. I hadn't been out to visit during the week as I had no transport but when I phoned on Saturday mum told me she wasn't good. I spent the afternoon with her. She was weak and tired but she still asked me if I'd had a driving lesson. When I kissed her goodbye I prepared myself for it being the last kiss, although, some part of me thought that I would see her the next day because she had always been such a fighter. Her last words to me were "Thankyou". It was a sweet goodbye.

Obviously I feel sad, but not for myself, for Bert. And Bert feels sad because he loved her like all children love their parents. Despite the sadness we all recognise that she was ready to go. Though her mind was as sharp as a tack her body had been failing for quite some time. She had coped long enough with the inability to stimulate her mind as much as she'd wanted because of physical restraints.

Of course, death always makes me philosophical about life. The more funerals I attend the more I understand why we carry out these rituals, because, in understanding death, we appreciate how to celebrate life. I have to say, I probably always had a bit of a morbid fascination with death from a young age, only in the sense that I thought about it often and was always curious as to what happened after death. Since I didn't buy into the whole heaven concept, it seemed like there were only a few other possibilites really. I guess what I'm angling at here is that I didn't think I'd really be so affected by Pearlie's death and that's just dumb because death makes everyone think about life. No matter how many times it happens.

I want to get back to the point I made about Pearlie being 'ready to go'. That's something that not everyone has. Over the years I have watched the clock ticking by and felt like I should be doing so many things, so quickly, all at once, before time runs out. That's self-inflcited pressure. Pressure I neither want, nor need. I certainly have no regrets about my past so why should I have expectations about the future? I think I really understand the concept of 'living in the moment' now. That's not to say that I will be a master at this practice. Our mind's thought processes are so ingrained to our way of being that we can only try as much as we can to change the habits of our thinking. What I'm trying to convey here is that I'm ready to go. I don't want, or plan to die but, if I was one of the many few who died before their 'time' I would leave this earth knowing that I lived my life the way I wanted to and I experienced all that I could possibly experience, and, to feel that way is pretty liberating.

The funeral is tomorrow. Pearlie had a small family and only two blood relatives remain. But she had an extended family that include an assortment of different people. People who care very much for Bert and who are proud of him for looking after his mother 'til the very end. His father would have been so proud.

Ziggy's Thing

The flatmate and I have quite a few things in common but the main thing is we both love Ziggy. When the flatmate comes home and Ziggy doesn't run to the door to greet him his first question is "Where's Ziggy?" I was chatting the other day about how Ziggy's life was much more mundane before he moved in and the flatmate said "Yeah, Ziggy was telling me all about it" to which I replied, "Oh, is that right, what kind of things has he been saying?". The flatmate answered, "Well, he told me he had to go to bed at eight o'clock every night". I said, "Yeah, well, he wasn't lying, he did have to go to bed at eight every night", and then I added "You know Ziggy's been telling me some stuff about you too."

I enjoy pretending that a dog has a voice and can talk to humans. Brian the dog is my favourite character in Family Guy for the simple fact he's a dog that does human things but still gets scared of the hoover and can't help wag his tail when he gets praise. It's silly, I know, but it amuses me.

Ziggy has so many different toys. These include; a ball, a squeaker, a tugger, a teddy, a bone and a donut. I have run out of names for his various toys so the latest one i got him has been named his 'thing'. He also has a rubber wibbly wobbly thing that he never plays with because I haven't given it a name yet. Meka likes that particular toy since the rubber is nice for her to chew. The only time Ziggy shows interest in this toy is when I put it in Meka's cage. Opening Meka's cage door is one of Ziggy's new tricks. He does it all the more because he knows he's not supposed to.

Everything is going rather swimmingly at the minute. I am definitely learning not to stress out so much and I'm enjoying this zen-like state of being. It's funny to think how I thought I was so happy last year. On the surface it did seem like everything was going my way but there was still a fragility about my state of being. I find life so poignant sometimes. I am back riding the waves, only this time they aren't waves of sadness but waves of excitement.

Brain Drops Keep Falling On My Head

I joined the rest of the world and got a smart phone. I was paying £15 a month and using the kind of phone where young people ask "What is that contraption you're holding up against your ear?" I might as well pay £12.50 a month and have the kind of phone that can do everything except make perfect toast. I've had it for two days already and I've hardly used it. This is because I had a couple of days before my phone number was switched over to the new sim card. The guy on the phone told me that I would lose any unused credit I had on the phone. I had £10 of credit to use up, which I did by calling a few people. I then realised I had £20 worth of O2 rewards so I redeemed some of if it in vouchers and some of it in more credit which I also used up last night calling some more folk. I felt super smug about making sure that every single penny was spent.

But all this chat about phones and money is boring. Tomorrow I have a day out in Belfast planned with Nelly and my lovely nieces. This Saturday is the 12th day here in Norn Iron (of course it's the 12th day everywhere else in the world but they don't seem to get as excited as the boyos here do). So I'm off on Saturday for a rare treat and Ziggy and I will be heading to the countryside to get away from all the banging, and tooting and whistling and piping and cheering, and shouting and general noise. Out in Cullybackey we will only have to put up with the hooting of Bert's clarinet and the occasional barge from Nelly when a dog runs over her plants.

I took a trip up to Boots chemist this afternoon and got ear drops, eye drops and Pearl Drops (whitening toothpaste). I have had a slight blockage in one of my ears that has been interfering with playing guitar and singing. I wanted the eye drops because I want my eyes to look brighter and I figure putting a ween o' drops into them is easier than clarying a tonne of makeup on them. The toothpaste will probably do very little to whiten my teeth but I got it on clearance so I feel like I got a bragain and that is just as uplifting as having white teeth. Also, I am a mere 60 points away from having enough to get one of my favourite (also one of the most expensive) perfumes. How a girl as scruffy as myself could end up having a taste for exquisite perfume I don't know. I guess I'm hoping to meet a blind man with a keen sense of smell.

So, today, I'm all about the head and giving it some TLC. My feet also need a bit of attention but, fortunately, I can keep them well hidden whereas my head is there for all to see. The only kind of 'drops' I didn't get were brain drops. Maybe I don't need them now that I have a smart phone!

The Photo Update

The sun's been shining, Ziggy got neutered, there were walks in the park, days with the girls, driving lessons started, and the odd whiskey or two drank. I've been busy enjoying life. Here's some pics:


Ziggy shows Alfie who's Boss


Bert partakes in a spot of tree surgery


The girls paddling


Ziggy's new bud


Pigeons


Ziggy after his op


Ziggy has learnt how to open Meka's cage door and steals her food


Fun in the field


Ziggy's piggies


Our dog walk


Ziggy's whirlpool

The Emotional Update

So the past few weeks have been nice. The weather's been nice. I had a week off from work, which was nice. it's also been a mixture of activity and relaxing and things changing and staying the same. I guess what i'm trying to say is, it's been life. The past few weeks have been life. I have been contemplating giving up blogging for a variety of reasons. Part of me feels like it has served it's purpose. It's an account of my memories, experiences, love and learning that's been going on for 10 years now and I wonder if it's exhausted. Or if I just feel frustrated because I can't write what my heart wants me to write even though so few people read it. I don't know. I don't know how I feel about it.

What I do know is that I have invested a lot of time and energy into everything in my life, this blog included. I'm not sure I want to give it up just yet. I happened to google something the other day and the only relevant thing that came up was a blog post. I read it and thought to myself, 'Wow, this girl sounds so much like me'. It wasn't until I read another couple of posts that I realised this girl was me. It was a blog I'd started to write years ago when I was so full of frustration about my life and I did not want to taint the Palace with negativity. There were only about 5 or 6 posts in total. Clearly I had decided that I was going to focus on the positives in my life rather than the negatives. But my life was so negative then and I needed that outlet for a short time. I have tainted this blog now but it has been a welcome stain. My broken heart is on the table. I have been armed with a scalpel, for quite some time, dissecting it.

I continue to feel very jaded about the world and my place in it. Everywhere I look people are having babies and I just don't think they even know what babies are. Humans continue to be greedy, selfish, angry and thoughtless. I see no end to it. They are completely unaware of the world around them. They live in their own bubbles that they never want to leave because why would they leave? They have everything they need. Food, drugs to self-medicate, entertainment. But all of these, especially the food, is like what the powers that be use to control their people. Religion is no longer the opium of the masses. It is has been replaced with food, drugs and pop culture.

I also continue to feel hopeful and excited about what the rest of my life has to offer. Fuck everyone else. Let them drudge around this world only half living. I continue to search for my own small piece of happiness and I realise that, while I'm doing that, I have already got my own small piece of happiness. My life is progressing just the way I want it to with nothing holding me back. And as always, no matter what thoughts are going through my head, I continue to be positive towards everyone and try, above all else, to make them smile.

Dogs and Their Pets

Ziggy would like to share a few words on the human/canine relationship:

When a dog is born they are assigned a pet human. This is the only thing that doesn’t make sense to me. Dogs have no real choice about which human is assigned to them. It seems to be luck of the draw. And then, of course, there are some dogs that don’t get this privilege of a pet human. I feel kinda sorry for those dogs.

Dogs are very important and they need their pet humans to be really obedient. I often find with my pet Hannah that she is quite stubborn and strong willed. I found her easier to control when I was a puppy and she was kind of drunk on cuteness. We often have a battle of wills and sometimes I win and sometimes she wins.

My work is very important. I look after the house when Hannah is out doing silly human things. I must do this in case intruders break in and steal the house and Hannah and I have to live on the streets. She seems to recognise this as an important task as she always shows me lots of praise when she comes back home to find that I’ve done an excellent job at keeping intruders away.

Humans need plenty of exercise and stimulation and it is also my job to keep my pet Hannah motivated and make sure she gets out for plenty of walks. I do find that she can be lazy at times so I really have to pester her to get up off her lazy arse. When we are out and about I like to catch up with old friends and make acquaintances with new ones. Mostly I am just sussing everything out and making sure that it’s safe for Hannah. Sometimes she meets some of her friends too but their interactions with each other are oftentimes dull. It’s nice when they pat me on the head though.

As much as Hannah can be hard work at times I wouldn’t change her for the world. I’ve seen some dogs whose pet humans are so unruly that they must keep them on a lead at all times, even when there’s no traffic about. I am glad I have my pet under control. The only really, really annoying thing she does is interfere with my work when I’m barking at all the intruders trying to break in. She doesn’t understand that if I don’t keep my guard at all times we could be living on the streets.

Free Bird

So today was rather eventful in my little old life. I had my driving theory test and I passed. I'm not there yet but I'm half way there. I also finished my course, handed in my portfolio, passed my exam and recieved my certificate for the Level Two Counselling Skills. We had all grown fond of each ohter and it was sad to say goodbye. The tutor asked us to participate in one last creative learning task and that was to bring an object from nature to class with us. She told us to spend a bit of time choosing our object and letting ourselves be drawn to something. I would have liked to have gone out to Cullybackey to pick my object and I would have been spoilt for choice. It would also have been nice to meditate on the moment and use all my senses to help me feel drawn to something. As it was I was rushing around and I only had my backyard and down the street to find my object from nature. I looked in my backyard and was immediately uninspired. I went down the street and walked to the little bit of greenery behind the fire station. I saw a feather on the ground and I knew straight away that it was perfect.

When we presented our objects in class the tutor told us to work in pairs and describe the object but use the word 'I' instead of 'it'. She told us to describe it physically and talk about what it's function was and what purpose it aspired to. Interestingly, everyone else in the class had chosen some kind of plant or flower. I was the odd one out. When I described the feather I said it was "long and thin" which is kind of like me but that it was also very strong. It's function was to keep the bird warm, dry and protected and to help them fly. When I saw the feather on the ground I knew I was drawn to it because it represented being as a free as a bird. The feather also functions as an old fashioned pen and I love to write. With pens. I would write with feathers but ink is very messy.

So all in all it's been a good day. I now have a summer of Thursdays free and that can only mean one thing. I get to spend more time with my darling nieces. The two little ones who never fail to put a smile on my face.

Putting Humpty Together Again

I guess my readers (all 5 of them) are eagerly waiting to hear about the progress of my toenail. Well, what an experience it’s been! Only I could view it as such because that’s how my brain works. I managed to keep the half nail attached for a couple of days with plasters. I woke up one morning and the nail had fallen off. I was glad because I could see the nail that was left and there was a bit more of it than I had thought. But the soft nail bed was exposed and this made me feel just as grossed out as when I wasn’t sure what was lurking underneath the dead nail.

That first night I went to bed and had a struggle getting to sleep. I tossed and I turned. No matter what I did I was acutely aware of the fact that my toe nail was missing. I whimpered. I tossed and turned some more. I prayed to god that I would never EVER be tortured and have my nails removed because this was unbearable. Even the air irritated it. It wasn’t actually painful, just very, very uncomfortable. My toe felt nervy and raw and sensitive. The next day I woke up and felt fine. I went to work and by the end of the day I was aware of that horrible nervy sensation again. I put in another restless night trying to drift off to sleep but being kept awake by a sickening feeling. By the third night I had my toe bandaged up my Nurse Nelly and since then it’s been unproblematic. It must have grown enough for me to feel like it’s not so exposed and tender now.

I love analogies and last year, at the beginning of my course, we had a class that was about ‘body dialogue’. This is the idea that our bodies are telling us everything we need to know if we just listen to it. We did an exercise in class and we talked about certain parts of the body and how they felt. What would that part of the body say if it could speak? I recall that day having a twitch in my eye and I said it felt restless and twitchy, like there was a little man with a fishing rod who had hooked my eye and was constantly tugging on it. I pondered it at the time but now I wonder if that little man with the fishing rod was trying to get me to look in the direction he thought I should be looking.

The physical discomfort of my big toe matched the emotional discomfort I went through at Christmas. For some reason I like it when this happens. It’s like the physical aspect of it is a sign that it’s working its way out of your system. You are truly healing. I can’t attribute all the pain I felt at Christmas to my ex-boyfriend. I had a whole lot of other hurt I needed to get out of my system before he even came along. I suspect he did too. But it’s ok because I’m training to be a counsellor and as someone once said “All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again but we can because we’re counsellors”.

In Dreams

I might as well rename my blog The Palace Of Heavenly Ziggy. I don't mind admitting that I haven't a while lot else to write about at the minute. In the weeks leading up to Ziggy's birthday I kept telling him that he was going to be a big boy and he'd have to start behaving a little more responsibly. It actually seems to have worked. He hasn't miraculously turned into the most well behaved dog overnight but we are getting there. For example, last night he was barking out the window at nothing. He probably heard a leaf rustling in the wind. I had a stern conversation with him. It went like this: Now Ziggy, you're going out to see your GRANNY tomorrow, and to see JUDY and JESS but you have to be a GOOD boy, or you won't get to see GRANNY. NO more barking out the window and being BAD or you will GO TO BED and you won't see GRANNY. Ziggy listened to this with his head cocking from left to right. He sighed and lay down and went to sleep. Of course, all Ziggy heard was GRANNY JUDY JESS GOOD GRANNY NO BAD GO TO BED GRANNY but he understood what I was saying to him.

And, seemingly, he had a great day flying about with Fly, a dog that does exactly what it says on the tin. Which is fly. Ziggy barely had enough energy to eat a few mouthfuls of his dinner before conking out on the sofa again. I haven't told him yet but I phoned the vet today and booked him in for his change of life operation. As soon as I got off the phone I felt guilty. I seem to recall feeling much less guilty about Rocky getting his balls chopped. I suppose the thought of dozens of unwanted baby rats eased my conscience a bit. Ziggy has made further progress in that he can now "play dead" on command. He has also rolled over a few times for me as when he was playing dead he figured he was half way there and he might as well please me. The wee dude's lying flat out on his back, snoring at the minute. I've been thinking about doggy dreams recently and wondering if they have very boring dreams that involve chasing balls or do they have crazy epic dreams that they are chasing a rabbit with a duck's head and they follow it into a burrow that leads through twisty tunnels and eventually brings them out in a butcher's shop where cat's are their servants and humans are their playthings and the hottest bitches are in town smelling of fox dung and calf shit? I'm going for the latter. I'd like to think dogs can have crazy dreams too. The way Ziggy's eyelids and paws are twitching at the minute would suggest that he's having a good time whatever he's doing.

It's My Party And I'll Huff If I Want To

So it was Ziggy's birthday and he started the day off at his granny's house where he had runs and chases and a birthday boke. When he got home I gave him the birthday presents from the flatmate and me. He then posed (very reluctantly) for a millisecond just so I could get this reminder of his very special day. Of course, typical Ziggy had to show his displeasure by huffing. I went to the birthday girls' party on Saturday night. I missed the stripper but was there for the pineapple hunt, which, unbeknownst to me consisted of two pineapples that were doing the rounds. We toasted Sunshine and Moonshine with zambuca soaked pineapple and sangria. It was a lovely night.

But the real action in my life all lies in my big toe. Before Christmas I dropped heavy crates on my toe. It started to grow out black. Eventually white nail started to grow and i have been patiently waiting for the black to grow out. Disaster struck the other night. It is half way up and the nail has started to come away. This happened on Sunday night. I felt queasy about it but I stuck a plaster over the nail to keep it attached for now. I went to work on Monday and thought about my nail only briefly at times. I went to my interview (which went ok I think so fingers crossed!)and afterwards I stopped in at the podiatrist. They were fully booked. I went home and took Ziggy for a walk. All of a sudden I became very aware of a senstaion in my big toe. Not sore, but nervy and a bit unpleasant. I soldiered on with the walk and came home and phoned my mum who reassured me that my toe probably wouldn't fall off. It didn;t stop me worrying about infection. I made some cheese and crackers with branston pickle (I had this same snack the night before because I've been too lazy to get groceries) and after a couple of bites I got a really strange taste in my mouth like metal but really bitter. I drank some water and took another bite. Again, that tangy, metallic taste. I checked the date of the branston pickle. It was fine. Besides, I'd had it the night before. I couldn't finish the rest as my stomach was turned. I had unfounded suspicions that this was related to my toenail. Somehow. I then felt cold and weak. So cold. It hadn't been an unpleasant day but I was shivery. This was probably the infection setting in, I told myself. I went to bed and I could feel my cheeks burning. My big toe felt warm and unpleasant. I shuffled around trying to get comfortable. I told myself it would be fine in the morning. And it was. I got to work in lively spirits but after an hour I started to feel drained. I felt like I was wading through mud all day and I felt a tightness in my chest.

It's amazing how the mind works. And how illness can escalate and how you can actually make yourself sick by thinking about it. I know I'll be fine. Though I felt sick in the bath because I was thinking about the water seeping under the nail (I get this same queasiness when I see wtaer sitting in my belly button. I feel like it's gonna seep into my body and drown me). I was lucky enough to capture this shot of Meka and Ziggy the other day. They are rather fond of each other though it's rare for Ziggy to be patient enough to let Meka come to him. I think it's a very sweet photo.

A Little Bit Sucky

Do you know what sucks? Seeing a dog get hit by a car. Do you know what sucks even more? Feeling partly responsible because the other dog saw Ziggy across the road and ran for him. The dog was an alsation. It was stroking about outside on the street and when it saw Ziggy it bounded for him. The car wasn't going overly fast but it still hit the dog with enough force to send it flying through the air. The alsation quickly jumped up and ran back to it's house. The owners hadn't witnessed it and I was concerned the dog was more hurt than it looked. I checked on the guy driving the car and asked him if he was ok. He was a young fella about 17 and he said he was ok. He asked if the car was ok. I said the licence plate was a bit cracked but it was fine apart from that. He said he knew that was a really horrible thing to ask but I got the impression he was probably driving someone else's car. I told him he should go and let the owners know that he'd hit their dog in case the alsation was more hurt than it seemed. I would have done it myself only I didn't think it was a good idea going in with Ziggy. I told the dude I'd wait with his car. He came back a few moments later and he said the dog was in the house and the owner thought it seemed ok but they would take it to the vet's anyway. I really do hope the dog will be alright. If he hadn't seen Ziggy he wouldn't have ran across the road.

The day has been grand otherwise. I would have felt much worse if the dog had been killed right on the spot. But it wasn't so I shall put it out of my head. Ziggy has decided that he'll do the "play dead" and "roll over" tricks for me as long as it's on soft carpet. It really seems like he's making an extra special effort as he approaches his first birthday. Ziggy shares his birthday with Sunshine. Moonshine's birthday is the following day so tomorrow night is party night. Normally Ziggy would be present for such occasions but I have decided that I would be wise to send him out to mum's, come home from work and have a nap so that I'm not looking for bed come midnight.

I have an interview on Monday for the next stage of the counselling course. I've been dreaming lately about a holiday but between driving and course funding I'm probably gonna have to wait about three years before I can even afford to renew my passport. It's a good job I have all those memories of holidays before and a cunning ability to convince myself I'm in a different country. Today, I think I'll go to Ecuador.

Summer Scoop

I have been working on my papergirl project. This is just a first draft so it might get revised a time or two before I submit it. I use Yankee candles to make my flat smell nice and my favourite flavour* at the minute is called 'summer scoop'. It made me think of K and so I wrote this to get a bit of sadness worked out of my system. I've also included some photos of Ziggy to balance it all out and make this a bittersweet blog post. Thank dog for gods!



I was submerged in my skin, feeling myself rot and decay and peel away, ‘til my core was exposed, all swollen and tender, all soft and raw. And in this fragile state he came to charm and disarm me, possibly harm me, but my heart was exposed, all swollen and tender, all soft and raw. He built me this gorgeous house in the trees, with heart shaped leaves and the bees who could see, I was stung before, I was swollen and tender, all soft and raw. So I jumped through his hoop, got caught in the loop, fell in love with a summer scoop. And my core was exposed, my heart and soul juxtaposed thought this was gold, I thought this was treasure, thought this was forever. So I said goodbye to my summer scoop, danced to the beat of my own distant drum, my freedom was gold, my thoughts were my own, this was my treasure. This is forever.

The New Seating Arrangement

Just at the minute I have an inability to write. I don't know why. I think it's because I'm holding myself back from what I really want to say. Despite my attempts to always be open and honest there's just some things best left. So I hand my blog over to Ziggy to see if he's got much so say for himself:

Oh boys, oh boys, I just don't know what to be at with myself. Y'see, Hannah and her flatmate got rid of that big stupid TV, which was ok, I didn't mind because sometimes I saw things on the TV that annoyed me and I could never get at them, but Hannah didn't like the big empty space it left so she put my favourite armchair their in it's place. She seemed to know that this would upset me but she didn't care. I used to love sitting on that armchair looking out the window. I especially liked to bark at all the other dogs I seen. So life's been tough this past few days. I can stand at the top of the stairs and look out that window but all I ever see are a few birds. So I bark at them. Then Hannah tells me not to. And now I can't get in behind the sofa and hide and scratch and carry on. The whole living room's changed and I don't like it. I asked Meka what she thought and she said she didn't give a flying f**k. So I did a whole pile of naughty things just to get back at Hannah. Nothing really bad, I've just generally been a bit more pesky than usual. I hoped that she might reconsider the seating arrangement so I could just go back to looking out the window and barking. Think I'll just keep being naughty until she does

Well, looks like Ziggy did have something he wanted to get off his chest. I do feel very guilty about taking his chair by the window away but I was glad to get rid of the big stupid TV.

How Were We Made?

Not so long ago I wrote a post on the number 216. It was a very light hearted post because I was feeling so shitty at the time I had to be jovial whenever I could. But it seems the number won't leave me alone and there's a whole lot of "significance" behind it. When this number started to crop up in my life 5 years ago I thought it was odd but never gave it any real serious thought. A lot of people have numbers that keep figuring in their lives so that part is not unusual. Now, I find it hard to write with a hundred per cent enthusiasm about a subject that has always seemed airy fairy and wishy washy to me. In the past year, through events in my life and learning that I've done I've come to appreciate all kinds of theories and philosophies about life. The event of seeing numbers repeatedly in life are said to be the result of angels communicating with us. It seems to be their message is a simple one, just to let us know they are there. I have my struggles with religion and the concepts of heavenly creatures and so, five years ago, I would have called this utter pish posh. But, like I said, life is teaching me not to scoff at things just because they don't fit into my idea of what is right. When I was younger I felt it was more important to place my faith in myself and the people around me. The 'concrete' beings that I could physically know and touch. As I get older I realise that as concrete as we might be nothing lasts forever. So I looked beyond the physical and delved into the spiritual.

I didn't explain the number 216 very well in the last post. The reason being is that I don't know how to explain it. My brain understands what I'm reading about it but I can't express it in my own words because a lot of it boils down to maths and I just don't get maths. What I can do is provide links. The first one is good old wikipedia. This one's for the real maths buffs. The second one shows that the number 216 is, in fact, well known. Clearly someone has had the same thought as myself and queried if the number 216 has any significance. Of course, everything I read about it has to do with maths or religion, two of my most hated subjects. I wasn't going to even mention it again except that I was looking through a magazine, a strange magazine that my flatmate got, and there was an advert at the back for a book by William Neil called How We Were Made: A book of revelations. The illustration shows the number 666 and a hand pointing downwards to the number 216 in a circle with wings. I thought this required further investigation.

This dude William Neil seems to have devoted an awful lot of time to the number 216. It's actually kind of boring and I guess you have to be really into numbers to be interested in such stuff. All the same, I'll have to check the book out just to see what it's all about. I am kinda worried though as I think he might be one of these David Icke types. At least his name was mentioned on this site. I wish I was being haunted by a far less notorious number. In all seriousness though, it is just a number, though, according to google the world's going to end in 2016. Hmmmm, like we haven't heard that one before. Still, better make sure this next couple of years are extra special good ones. Just in case ;)

Papergirl Belfast

Today I had one of those 'senior' moments like when someone is looking for their glasses and they're already wearing them. I was walking Ziggy down the street and I momentarily panicked that I'd forgot his lead, which was, of course, attached to his collar and in my hand.

Ziggy gets called a whole lot of names. The list is extensive and includes; Ziggers, Chief Ziggum, Sir Zigalot, Zigalo, Ziglet, Ziglerthene (my mum's name for him), Zigstar, Wee Man, Wee Dude and Wee Shit. Basically, I'll call him anything, anything but The Zig. The way I see it he has to earn that title and he is far too young and cocky to appreciate it yet. Like Paulo and his sword, Ziggy needs to know what to do with a title like that before he can own it with honour and pride. It has been noted by fellow dog walkers that Ziggy walks around like he is King of the River Path Walk. I encourage all their dogs to put Ziggy in his place.

A few days ago I felt like all my energy had been zapped from me. I guess I was only just getting over the Whisky Flu and I'd been out gallivanting most nights so a bit of exhaustion was inevitable. It felt more than that though, like I'd surrendered something of myself that I was't quite ready to surrender. My body told me everything that I needed to know. It was just a matter of listening to it. I rested for an hour on Friday night before heading round to see Sunshine and Moonshine. It was the most satisfying rest in which I hung out somewhere in between reality and dreams. It was very peaceful and when I came to I was re-energised and feeling good (like Nina Simone good).

The lovely Shiny girls told me about an interesting creative project called Papergirl Belfast. People are encouraged to write, draw or create something that can be rolled up and put in a tube for people on bikes to randomly distribute to the members of the public. Such a brilliant idea I have to be a part of it!

The Pilgrimage

There are a few Arts I'm trying to master at the minute like how to make my life a little less like a sopa opera. I have attracted drama for years now. I don't want it but it finds me as soon as I decide to go out and be sociable with people. it's nothing major and nothing I can't handle but it's certainly made me question what the hell I'm doing to avoid a somewhat, normal, peaceful life. I think I've figured it out this time round. I feel for people too much. I care about them too much. I want everyone to be free and happy. I can't detach myself from other people's pain and it's something I need to learn how to do if I want to become a counsellor.

I am a sponge and I soak everything up. Having learnt a major lesson this year in how to take control of my life, I now have to learn what to do with that control. I don't want to care so much for people that when their world get's rocked mine does too. I don't want to be afraid of other people's feelings. I can't be. It doesn't help me. Yesterday I made myself finish The Pigrimage by Paulo Coelho. It was less enjoyable to read than many of his books and just as I'd got to the last 40 pages I gave up. It's been sitting in my room gathering dust for a while now. I began to wonder if there was significance in me being unable to finish it at that particular time. Maybe I would only be able to finish the book when I was ready for the lesson. I decided that yesterday I needed to finsih it. The wisdom that I was waiting for was in the first paragraph.

The story is about Paulo doing a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela in search of his sword. He does not know where he will find it and his guide, Petrus, tries to teach him exercises and meditations as a way to look within himself for the answers. It is not until Paulo realises that he has been so obsessed with the end result he has failed to even think about what he will do with his sword when he gets it. He suddenly realises he will not be able to find his sword until he, first, knows what to do with it.

I still have a way to go on my journey, not that it will ever end, but I'm getting closer and closer to that feeling of authenticity. Perhaps, one day, I will go on my own pilgrimage.

The Art Of Procrastination

I am fixated on playng Rounders at the minute. I like it because it's neither a girl's game nor a boy's game. For those of you that don't know, Rounders is like the British version of Baseball, only much smaller and without the acclaim. A better game, by far, I would say. Millions of Americans may beg to differ though. I was never overly sporty at school. I was more spotty than sporty. I also went to the kind of school where sport was glorified. If you were the very best hockey or rugby player you could securely claim your place amongst the Jocks. If you didn't have brains to applaud at least you had brawn. I had brains but not the kind of malleable ones a school like that wanted you to have. I challenged my R.E. teacher on all kinds of controversial subjects like suicide and gay rights. He would become flustered and, while I had him engaged in such debates, there would be no learning from the Bible as outlined in the curriculum. It's really no wonder I failed the exam.

Today I'm indulging in a spot of procrastination. I'm off work and should be getting stuck into the housework but I am choosing to painfully squeeze out a blog post when I really have nothing to write about. That's how a true procrastinator operates. The thing that they choose to do instead of the thing that they should be doing is quite often pointless and irrelevant. But I'm trying to understand the Art of Procrastination. I am convinced there has to be some evolutionary reason as to why humans do it. Spiritual teachers tell us that procrastination is the enemy and, so far, I have been unable to disprove this. But I will continue on my quest to master the Art of Procrastination and when I figure it all out I will let you know. Eventually.

Sitting On The Wall

Last night I went out for a feed of food and a feed of whisky. It was, I guess, a date, sort of. I went to bed much later than I'm used to and much wobblier than I'm used to and then I felt like I was coming down with some kind of lurgi. I woke this morning feeling much like one feels after a feed of whisky and managed to convince myself that it was the effects of alcohol making me feel lurgied. I left the house at half twelve, bought a sandwich to eat and then headed up to meet my class mates before our exam. When I say exam it wasn't a difficult exam. Our tutor told us it wasn't rocket science and there was no need to revise. She was right. We all felt confident enough about it and afterwards I realised that I was most definitely coming down with a lurgi. I am the girl who never gets sick except for occasional bouts of pear picking porky flu and donkey flu. I believe this may be some kind of whisky flu.

When I was a child I rarely got sick. I had never experienced a flu until I was 20. And, to be fair, I don't think I've had proper flu since. Adults seem to think that because having a cold feels ten times worse than it did when they were a kid that it's flu. I just think adults are wusses.

Ziggy is back from an overnight stay at mum's. He's wrecked. Just how I like him to be. My friend N called round for us the other day and we took a walk in Broughshane. I walked out the door and N was sitting on the Twit's wall. So were the Twits. They weren't too pleased and glared at us. As soon as N stood up they stood up and walked down the street. I looked back to find Mr Twit standing watching us getting into the car. Glaring. I said to N, "You probably shouldn't sit on their wall."