Meat You At The Door

I heard a knock at the door and looked out the window to see a young man smiling back up at me. I didn't know who he was but I liked the cut of his jib so I answered the door. There's no TV's in this flat and I ain't afraid of no ghosts. I kinda guessed it would be one of the new flatmate's (I'll think of a suitable nickname for him eventually...if he sticks round long enough to acquire one, though already Tojo springs to mind) chums. I could never have possibly guessed, however, what he was delivering.

Five kilos of pork loin. He could tell by the look on my face that this was a novel experience for me. I recall the freezer at Nellybert's being full to the brim of various bits of pork and I've seen the things hanging up in a butcher's shop but I've never been handed a big lump of meat at the door.

I think the very fact that I'm even blogging about this shows that my brain is mushed from essay writing and studying. That's only my brain though. My heart feels all warm and fuzzy 'cause I picked Ziggy up from my sister's and got lots of cuddles and kisses from the girls. E showed me to the door, gave me extra kisses and cuddles and waved me down the street. No amount of studying can beat that!

The Cuddle Club

I thought I would have a lot of photos to post of the Treehouse Warming Party on Saturday night but, as it truned out, the flash was spoiling the ambient mood we had going and I wasn't in the mood for taking photos. I was in the mood for....cuddles. There were many invited to the party but only a handful turned up (13 in total). This was probably just as well as (we now know) that the treehouse can only really comfortably fit 12 people and 2 dogs. In my head there would be people spilling out of the treehouse...on to the verandah, sitting on the spiral stairs, swinging on the swing and bouncing on the trampoline. There will no doubt be a party like this in the future but for the first one it was nicely sedate and danger was kept to a minimum.

All the important people were there and we all became a member of a very exclusive club...The Cuddle Club. The genius behind this was the tallest, hairiest man at the party (Gus!) who didn't like the sound of Fight Club and thought Cuddle Club was more fitting to our needs. We had the Cuddle Club mascot, Judy Pudding, who was doling out hugs left, right and centre. We had two rules. The first rule was "we don't talk about Cuddle Club". Clearly I have broken that one already. The second rule was "nobody leaves the treehouse without a torch" because it was getting dark and I didn't want people to trip on fallen branches which is exactly what Gus did just as he was saying "We don't need torches, we have the light from the love of our friends".

Yes, yes we are a bunch of hippies. But what else can you expect from a treehouse party crowd? We played guitar and ate homemade pizza (everyone loved Nelly's dough) and drank cider and whiskey. After a while we took the party into the house where there was electricity and toilets that flushed. Though many did not want to leave the treehouse and go back to reality. Hails said it was like being inside a book (she named the book but I can't recall). I, of course, felt like I was an Ewok and Gus and I conversed in what little Ewokian we knew. We sang along to The Littlest Hobo theme tune and we had a mixture of posh crisps and 'common' crisps. There were lanterns.

Oh...and there is chat about a road trip. Mel and I are going to be Thelma and Louise only instead of having Brad Pitt we'll have Ziggy which makes us infinitely cooler.

The Confidence Shop

Just look at that cow's face. I love cow faces. They are dreamy and gentle. They have empathic eyes. I could tell this cow all my woes and feel like it was really listening. Of course, it will be listening only in the way that a cow can listen to a human's troubles. But still, I'd feel like it understood more than a lot of the humans I do talk to.

I have been struggling to update my blog due to a number of things. Worry about my family, stress of my coursework, the upheaval of yet another new flatmate. I was sad to say goodbye to Gus but his path lead him right back where he started because I guess that's where he needed to go. I still laugh about the silly conversations we had and I miss speaking in funny accents. My new flatmate is not from Ireland so I have to speak in an accent that he understands. Not that words are everything.

My birthday was last week and mum and I spent a nice day shoe shopping and eating ice cream in Garvagh. I have a small party planned for the weekend as I feel I need a bit of fun and lightness after the past few weeks (months/years). Today I have a driving lesson with a new instructor. I plan to be more assertive this time round. Because, despite the progress I've made over the past few years, I realise that my biggest downfall is still a lack of confidence, combined with this need to please everyone around me. If there was a shop that sold confidence I'd be there with all the money from my change jar. But then I wouldn't be able to afford the driving lessons and I'd have all this confidence with nothing to be confident about and that would make me like some kind of man with a small dick complex.

I am looking forward to the summer when the first year of my course will be all wrapped up. I still have a placement to organise and my own persoanl therapy to attend (as part of the course requirements students must undertake 20 hours of personal therapy). I embrace this. Even though I had counselling before there is always a benefit to talking through things no matter what's going on in your life. I still feel like I'm wading sometimes, like everything seems to take forever while time moves at super sonic speeds, but I know it will come. I will drive, I will get a placement, I will continue to learn and grow and, one day, I will be that person who helps others to learn and grow. I finished reading the Road Less Travelled by M.Scott Peck. If ever there was a book written about life and what it means to be human, this is it. My heart sang with joy and a feeling of hope and acceptance the whole time I was reading it. It's akin to that feeling I get when I look at a cow's face.

And here's something else that makes my heart sing with joy. A flying dog by name of Zigatron Marley. Just look at the awe in the other doggy's face!

Ubudubuda

After all this time I have finally figured out what language Ziggy speaks. It's "Ubudubuda". He totally understands it. When I tell him to get off the table in Ubudubada he does exactly as I say. But, who knows, perhaps tomorrow he will speak a different language.

I feel like I have a devil and an angel on each shoulder at the minute. One is saying "Be yourself. It leads to the road of happiness". The other is saying "Don't be yourself. It gets you into trouble". The thing is, I'm not sure which is saying which. Is it the angel saying "Be yourself" because she wants me to be happy, or is she saying "Don't be yourself" because she wants to protect me? Or is the devil saying "Don't be yourself" because he wants me to be miserable, or is he saying "Be yourself" because he knows it will get me into trouble? Is that confusing? It must be because I'm confused.

It must be the angel who has the loudest voice and she must be saying "Be yourself" because she does want me to find happiness. The devil is saying "Don't be yourself" because he thinks he can hold me back with fear. As always, I'm skirting around the real issue but I'm raw. I feel like the universe is challenging me to dare to be myself. I am torn between this embarassment that if I bear my soul no one will understand, and this self-belief that tells me it doesn't matter if they understand.

Self doubt affects us all. For some people it's a mild affliction but for others it is all-consuming. I don't want to be consumed with self doubt and after a long time and a lot of hard work I became more sure of myself. It really does feel like the universe is throwing me curve balls in the form of people who come into my life who seem intent in filling me with that self-doubt that I worked so hard to shake off. I can't focus on that though because the universe has also thrown me a couple of life lines in the form of people who accept me as I truly am. So again, I go back to that feeling like I have an angel and a devil on my shoulders, trying to weigh a little heavier than the other, tipping the scales.

Ziggy also has an angel and a devil on his shoulders. I don't know what kind of conversations they have with him but depending on whose speaking the loudest he can be the dirtiest, devil dog or the sweetest, most beautiful angel. Even though I already knew it I have had a few lessons reaffirmed today: We all have our angels and demons and, mostly, we're all just doing the best we can with the tools we've been given.

I Am The Hedge!

My bestest chum Mel and I used to chat about people being "infested with Christmas spirit". That makes sense to me now cause I'm all bah humbug. It's not that I don't like Christmas, it's just that it's cold and dark and far too stressful for something that just seems to happen every frickin' week. As a child I would start the countdown in September. Back in those days you had to wait another few months before the shops started getting all christmassy. Now they do it in September and it really kills the buzz.

I was thinking about our pretend band, the GCDC's. It's not that we suck, it's just that we're not very good. But I like the idea of it all and I continue to enjoy it. It occurs to me that I have a lot of stuff I meddle in but nothing that I am really good at. I can take a decent photo but I wouldn't recommend booking me for your wedding day. I can play a bit of guitar but I wouldn't book me for your wedding band. I can write words that rhyme but unless I find someone to draw pictures that will only take me so far. And I have these really loooong fingers that I'm pretty sure I should be doing something with but I'm not quite sure what. Oh, and I'm good at finding things.

Last weekend I visited some friends who became first time parents to a couple of baby rats. I forgot how much I love rats. I also had a small bird perch on my head like I was a tree. This only happened for a millisecond but it was a millisecond I'll cherish for it's not often that birds trust us enough to land on our heads. It kinda reminds me of the time a bat flew into my hair (I have many bat stories). The bat flew into my hair because it was trapped in the house, flying around the room in circles and I was holding up a wastepaper bin in the hope that it would fly into it. Little did I know that bats aren't stupid and it was NOT going to fly into my trap. It did disorientate it, however, and it's little winghooks got tangled in my hair. In reference to my last blog post, I'd rather have the kind of hair that attracts wild animals than the kind of hair that makes me pass my driving test!

How To Fail Your Driving Test

Happy St.Patrick's Day! It seems like every other day is some kind of holiday but maybe that's because I work in retail.

So, I mentioned that I failed my test again last week. I always knew that driving wasn't something that would come easy to me. When I was a teenager I preferred the idea of riding a motorbike to driving a car. It seemed like a smaller hunk of machinery to take control of and I assumed it would be easier. It is. Kind of. My only real experience of riding a bike was in Thailand and I didn't do it that often because it was scary. Riding the bike wasn't scary but negotiating the crazy Thai traffic (no rules at roundabouts!) was. A car is, however, much more practical for carrying passengers, although it doesn't stop them in Thailand from fitting a whole family and their dog on one bike.

My instructor said something to me the day before the test and, while I know she was only trying to help, it completely knocked my confidence (which wasn't really there to begin with) and it's been playing on my mind. Years ago, when I was a teenager, a girl told me that I should wear make up. That I would be pretty if I wore make up. I have experimented over the years but never felt entirely comfortable wearing it. Also, I'm lazy. Also, I don't care for 'dolling' myself up. Not so long ago a guy in the pub told me I'd be beautiful if I put on 12 lbs. At the time I wasn't particularly happy with being so underweight and I agreed with him but afterwards it made me wonder why people think it's ok to put conditions of worth on me. My driving instructor said to me the day before my test "Hannah, I want you to come out tomorrow looking like I have never seen you before. Put on your nicest clothes, wear make up and do your hair". I knew she meant well by it. I knew she was thinking that if I looked good, I'd feel good and my confidence would be better. I knew all this but it still had a detrimental effect.

The day of the test I walked out feeling like I had already failed. I looked no different than any other day despite trying to 'make something of myself'. I don't have any nice clothes. I wore a different coat. I faffed around with my hair but it just looked as limp and lank as always. I felt that I had made no effort but I had made all the effort I possibly could. I did not look good and I did not feel good. Like I say, I walked out of the house feeling like already I wasn't worthy enough.

It was after I failed that the words stung. I should have been true to myself and not let the instructor's suggestions put me off. I was already nervous enough without worrying about my goddamn hair. None of those things matter to me and I am sick of being judged on my appearance. But mostly, I'm annoyed that I let myself be affected by what she said and I, once again, let doubt take over. I can't put it all down to that one thing though.

On the plus side, it has given me food for thought with regards to my course. The relationship between the instructor and I had grown fractious because I knew what I needed to help me learn to drive and she refused to listen to my needs. It took me a while to learn to tell her what I needed but she was so set in her ways it didn't matter. While she may have got hundreds of others through their test she couldn't adapt her teaching style to fit with me. And I am not like hundreds of other people.

Jobby On A Stick

Today I took Ziggy for a different walk. There is a Motte and Bailey in Ballymena and it had been years since I climbed it so Ziggy and I conquered the small hill. It was windy at the top and I had a lovely view of the place where I work. I also had a view of the road that I performed a particularly disastrous 7-point-turn that caused me to fail my driving test back in September last year. I was taking stock. In between the two hilly mounds, a strange object caught my eye. It is pictured above. I was curious and poked it with my foot. It was solid yet jellylike. It was textured. I didn't think it was a dead animal but it had the look of something that was biodegradable. I was tempted to find a stick to poke it with but I was on a time schedule and so I hurried on.

Later in the day I took my test again and I failed. I was disappointed but not surprised. I know I am capable of passing the test but I also know that I lack a lot of confidence and that is my downfall. I also think it's time to change my instructor because, although I like my current one, I realise that her teaching technique does not suit my learning style. She took me on a lesson before the test and did my head in so much I actually said to her "I can feel myself starting to shut down". I didn't shut down though and I did my best and even though I still failed there were less faults than the last time.

I came home and Gus consoled me and made me laugh. Then I told him that I was so mentally drained that my brain felt like mush. That's when I remembered about the mysterious semi solid wobbly object I had stumbled upon. I told Gus and he was intrigued. He asked several questions about it's composition. He asked if it was organic. I believed it was though I didn't think it was an animal of any description. I told him it was like something that had come from the sea. It was gelatinous but more solid and textured than a jelly fish would be. The closest think I could really liken it to was a rain saturated cauliflower. Gus expressed interest in going to investigate it and I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep at night if I didn't go back and prod it with a stick. An adveture was declared. Warm clothes were adorned. Ziggy was our trusty mascot and we departed on a quest to interact with a wibbly wobbly brain jobby. We found suitable sticks for jibby-jabbing the squishy organic mass and concluded that it was either a rain saturated cauliflower or some kind of funghi that had fallen off a tree.

So, even though it was sad to fail my test the day ended on a positive. And not because I got to poke something with a stick but because I'm the kind of person who can be cheered up by poking something with a stick. I also had a wee play in the park and went so high on the swings Gus was worried for my safety. Here's to simplicity and the sweet joy of laughing with a friend!

A Week Off

*Sigh* That's a contented sigh because I've been off work this week. Monday I had class so it wasn't exactly a day off but it was nice to come home and wind down in my own time without the pressure of the alarm clock going off at stupid o'clock. Both Monday and Tuesday were stinker days weather wise. On Tuesday mum brought Ziggy home and we went for coffee. I bought daffodils because that's what lady adults do in the springtime. I really have very little recollection of what else happened on Tuesday. Probably nothing.

Being a natural born procrastinator I have learnt to cope with my reluctance to do things by giving myself ridiculous amounts of praise for all the things I do manage to achieve on a daily basis. Like taking a shower. And eating food. This week I also had a driving lesson, studied and got my hair cut. Extra brownie points! Mum and I went to Belfast on Friday and I bought a book called The Games People Play by Eric Berne. It is less a book about rounders and badminton and more a book about the mind games people play. Both mum and I found it to be a little dated but interesting all the same.

Gus and I continue to be silly. He was complaining about all the cuts and burns on his hands and I suggested he chop them off and replace them with various kitchen utensils. Yes, it would be sad that he could no longer play guitar, or scratch himself without risk of injury but how useful he would be with corkscrews, tin openers and spatulas for fingers! Today is Saturday and I have another chica friend visiting tonight. I haven't seen her in ages so it'll be nice to catch up. Monday is back to reality for me but, hey ho, these driving lessons do not pay for themselves.

Write On

I am completely unsure about what to write about. Do I write to make pople laugh, 'cause that's what I like to do? Do I bare my heart and soul because I want to show the world who I truly am and encourage others to be who they truly are? Do I write about Ziggy because he is the closest thing I have to a baby and I'm so proud of him? Do I write about my hopes and dreams because I like to remind myself that I have hopes and dreams? Do I write about my shortcomings because I have those too? Do I write about love because I know it so well? Or do I write about the lack of love because the world's fucked up? Do I write a poem about sticky glue and cherry scones? Or do I write a story about a worm crawling up a cheese hole and dancing in a summer frock? Do I write because I want to? Or because I need to? Or because I'm scared if I don't I'll forget who I am? I don't know. I just write. I write when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when I'm lost and confused. I write when my heart leaps with joy and when it sinks to the pit of my stomach. I write when I'm sure and when I'm not so sure. I write to feel ok, to gain clarity, to release and to empower. I write for freedom and strength and to digest my thoughts. I write for comfort, and solace and peace within myself. I write to connect, with myself and with others. I write because the words hold me up when I feel like falling down.

Better Ways To Die

I found this article about depression and thought it was worth linking up to. And I was reminded of a line from the Little Prince "Well, I must endure the presence of one or two caterpillars if I wish to become acquainted with the butterflies"

Yesterday was a pleasing day because I got to see two of my girlfriends. Although most of my male friends aren't the typical sports watching, ball scratchin' kind I still miss the company of ladies and the female energy they bring. To be honest though,I'm not overly fussy about the company I keep. As long as there's peace and plenty of laughter.

I watched a film last week about four people whose boat sunk and they had to swim in shark infested waters. I'm not a big fan of the ocean, mostly because there's things in it that will eat you alive. The movie wasn't overly scary at the time but a few days later I gave myself the heebie jeebies thinking about it. Those people were eaten, alive, by sharks. I can't think of a more horrific way to die. I can think of ten other ways I would rather die. Like being boiled alive. Being struck by lightning. Being eaten alive by a crocodile. Starvation. Falling from a great height. Suffocation. Basically, any way you can possibly die would be preferable to being eaten ALIVE by a shark.

I am off work for a whole week. This means I can drink as much coffee as I like and stay up past 9 O'Clock. Tonight I have popcorn and we're gonna watch a Japanese movie called Infection. There's only one thing that scares me more than sharks and that's catching some horrific contagious disease that makes green pus ooze from every orifice.

Ziggy The Blog Filler

I'm not sure how it happens but the days just seem to be slipping by. But time is an illusion, right? It's not that the days are slipping away really, just that I have more to fill them and I'm more content. Which makes writing harder. When I first moved into this flat I spent a lot of time writing. No TV or internet to distract me. No dog to walk everyday. Just me and my thoughts. And I had the time and the space to write them down. Now I just doodle pictures and leave notes for Gus. They aren't nasty passive agressive notes but, rather, notes with very important messages, such as: I have just had a very unlady like helping of icecream and I demand that you do the same so that I don't feel so bad. P.S. don't let Ziggy lick the bowl...he'll turn into a gremlin.

I have decided that rather than trying to get Ziggy onto the big screen straight away he might benefit from taking part in some Am Dram. Gus moves around in those kind of circles and could make him some contacts quite easily. He still struggles with obedience and discipline (we had another Beiber incident in the kitchen) and I reckon Am Dram will give him the taste for pleasing an audience and he'll learn to just sit when he's asked to sit, as opposed to rolling over and doing pirouettes.

Ziggy and the GCDC's

There's a lot of adult type stuff in my head at the minute. It's no bad thing. I am an adult after all. It mostly revolves around learning to drive and getting a placement for my course. There's a small bit of worry, just enough to spur me on, but I will not to succumb to big time worrying because I have faith that everything will fall into place.

Spending time with my eldest niece is also forcing me to assume my adult authority. I got away with being easygoing funtime auntie Hannah for quite a number of years. Now I have to say 'no' a lot more and learn to feel ok about that. The only time I really have to put my foot down is when we go to the shops and M sees things that she wants. She hasn't quite grasped the concept of money yet. When I tell her I can't afford it she says "But Hannah, you can just go to the bank machine."

The second time I took her up the town M promised me we wouldn't argue. We did. She wanted a Frozen sticker set. Then she saw a balloon and it nearly broke her heart that I didn't buy it. This is when it became clear to me. She just couldn't help herself. She saw, she wanted. The miracle with children is that they live in the immediate moment. Five minutes later and a small lolly in her mouth and all the day's woes are forgotten.

I had both girls round for a playdate on Saturday. The youngest came up the stairs and said "We're here for a celebrate". We celebrated by bouncing on the bed and playing with small stones. M wanted to go up the town and get stuff. I said no. M said "But Hannah, E's here this time and she'll probably have a tantrum and I will help you with her." I gave her credit for her ability to negotiate but the answer was still no.

The GCDC's is the pretend name of our pretend band. We have accquired a new member and two bass guitars. The instruments are the only thing about our pretend band that isn't pretend. As it turns out, both Gus and Jakers are naturals on the bass guitar. I am selling my saxophone to a guy I know who plays drums in a band. He's a bit of a musical genius so he'll pick the sax up no problem and, when he does, I plan to poach him for the GCDC's. I also know a clarinet player, a tin whistler and a mouth organist. Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros better watch out 'cos there's a new hippie collective in town. And we have a dog!

Sit, Lie Down, Play Dead and Roll Over

Ziggy fell in love the other night. He's fallen for bitches before but I think this time it's the real deal. Her name is Ella and Ziggy let her eat his dinner. I have nothing to report in my own life. The days are full of laughing and talking in stupid voices. I've told Gus that one day I am going to speak to him only in rhymes.

Spending time with my eldest niece once a week has been wonderful. Last week we built a snowman. Of course I say 'we', it was actually me who did all the building while M ra around in the snow giggling about hom much fun it was to run in the snow. Yesterday we did arts and crafts and in no time M had decorated both a tiara and mirror with time to spare to do a drawing for her Daddy. We also did the apple dance to this song, which entertained Gus greatly!

Ziggy is a clever boy but, like me, he just has to do things his own way. Since he mastered the roll over trick he has no time to wait for commands. In his eagerness to receive a tasty reward, when I ask him to 'sit' Ziggy sits, lies down, plays dead and rolls over in one foul swoop. Here's a little video I took of him. It's not great quality and a bit distorted (seemingly the dropping my phone down the toilet incident had some repurcussions) and you might have to tilt your head but other than that, it's great! Here is my wee man.

Ziggy The Hairy Dragon Baby

I have got a new flatmate and to say that Ziggy approves is an understatement. For once I didn't have to play the flatmate lottery (which sucks by the way) and it ended up that a friend was looking a place to stay. That friend is Gus who I play geetar with and who makes me laugh and who Ziggy adores so it is a win win situation for all parties. 'Cause, y'see, I'm a girl who's all about the music and the laughing and making sure my dog is happy. And yet, that desire to make everyone happy never leaves me.

I am back at class and loving it. I have a driving lesson booked for tomorrow. I haven't been driving since September so I expect to be a bit rusty but I'm hoping I'll be a little more confident and assertive this time round. My course has been helping me work on these issues that I've struggled with in many aspects of my life. There is also this amazing feeling of knowing that I'm exactly where I'm meant to be. At the right time, with the right people. I'm glad the wrong people left my life. Even if it hurt at the time.

I feel it's worth mentioning that this time last year I was trying to be hopeful but it was hard. I'd just come out of a relationship and I had no idea what had happened. My head kept telling me what I should be doing but my heart was heavy and did not want to listen to my head. At the time I felt that if I just had closure I could move on and let go of the hurt. I wasn't going to get closure the way that I wanted though and I fought a long hard battle with myself to find peace within. I won the battle though! I accepted that I had to find my own closure.

It's safe to say I truly have my closure now. Both within myself and in the good old traditional sense that I had hoped so hard for (no joke, if you really, really want something you'll get it in the end, you might just have to wait a year, or two, or thirty). I've ordered my Littlest Hobo t.shirt "Maybe tomorrow....I'll wanna settle down". Ziggy just so happens to be getting cuter by the day and now that he can roll over I think he's maybe ready for his acting career to take off. There's been a fair few local bearded men, including Gus, who have played extras in The Game of Thrones so expect to see Ziggy playing some kind of hairy dragon baby in the next series.

What It Means To Me

It was a year ago that I stumbled upon a book in the library called The Indigo Adult. It came at a time when I needed answers and it most certainly gave me a lot of comfort. I wrote a little bit about it, about what it meant to me, and then I never mentioned it again (on my blog at least - poor Jakers is sick hearing about Indigos). The reason for that was because it was a concept I was still exploring. And that's all it is, a concept. I joined a group on Facebook and learnt a lot more about what it means to other people to be an Indigo. I wasn't sure if I liked it all. Too many people claiming that they were Indigo when others were not. Too many people telling others what they should and shouldn't be doing. But, essentially, it's an arena for learning and if you can take everything with a pinch of salt there is much learning to be gained.

For example, a lot of people focus on an Indigo's psychic abilities. This was never an interest of mine. And a lot of Indigo's believe that they come from other planets (so they get labelled crazy). Each to their own, I don't care if someone came from the sewers or the moon they all deserve the same respect. I don't feel like I am the same as others but I still believe that I came from the same place as them.

So what does it mean to me to be an Indigo? It just means that I can vision the world how it should be. Many people can. Except, maybe the difference is that people don't believe they have the power to change anything. It is easier to go with the crowd, follow rules and believe everything we're told. I can vision the world how it is meant to be and I believe that the world, or rather the people in it, will get there some day. I really believe this. I have to believe it otherwise I just wouldn't want to be here. I have to believe that when I bring a child into this world I am bringing them into a place of hope and possibility. Essentially, that's what it boils down to. I take comfort in being an Indigo because it gives me hope. And it excites me. In a world where people are so cynical.

I think I have come to this place in my life because I was bored of the norm. My most favourite book, The Alchemist, spoke of travel, adventure, magic, treasure and being connected with the soul of the universe. It was written beautifully, by a man who wanted to share the beauty he saw in the world. It gave me something to believe in. Everything happens for a reason, the universe is there to guide you and help you. Also, the fact remains that strange things happen in my life and I enjoy looking for the meaning in these events. It is no secret that I love a good jigsaw puzzle. Well, I like to put all the pieces of my life together to see the bigger picture and, quite often, I'm blown away.

The Accuser's Dog

Oh the abuse Ziggy had to put up with the other night! It was not physical abuse but emotional and it troubled him not in the slightest. I was obviously upset on his behalf but then I was feeling somewhat fragile after being struck down with a boking lurgy. I am seldom sick. This is because my brain is very good at communicating with my stomach and it tells my stomach not to reject food because my throat and mouth don't like the feeing of half digested food travelling down my gullet in the wrong direction. Ziggy was first accused of being stinking (it was, in fact, the accusers dog who was stinking and this was verified by a number of independent invigilators who, willingly, sniffed both dogs). Then he was accused of his anal glands bursting. I'm not sure if this is just a professor's way of saying he'd farted or if the person saying it actually thought his anal glands had burst. The accuser's dog harassed Ziggy all night. Ziggy didn't mind but the accuser did. She thought perhaps, her dog had remembered the time when Ziggy had humped him and was trying to get pay back. I think the dog was just besotted with Ziggy because he's so damn cool. While the accuser's dog was 'rimming' Ziggy (the accuser's words, not mine) she yelled "What's he doing!? Is he trying to eat worms out of Ziggy's bum?"

Ziggy does not have worms. Nor had his anal glands burst and I'd bathed him the night before so he smelt fresh as a daisy. Never mind the fact that all of this was not the appropriate kind of chat for someone with a delicate stomach. The accuser is not a bit wise but humble enough to admit that she was protagonising because she was suffereing from dog envy. Her dog is lovely too. And Ziggy was so tired after his harassing that he lay on my chest with he wee snout buried in my neck.

I'm back to school next week and I can't wait. And every one I know, including myself, seems to be starting the new year feeling hopeful and excited about what lies ahead. I haven't spoken much about matters of the heart lately, and that's because I needed to focus on the silly side of life, but I can feel a stirring in my soul and it seems the universe really is conspiring to help me.

Tom Cruisin' It

Isn't it Sod's law that after years and years of owning a bog standard phone, as soon as I get a newfancy one I start being very careless. There was the time I lost it in work and it was found by a manager in amongst the cheese. I lost it a few weeks ago but it was in my friend's car. Yesterday something worse happened. New T.Shirts had arrived in work and I was rooting through the box for a small size. They were all gone and I said to my manager that the boys were probably taking them to show off their muscles. It was tea time and I'd just walked upstairs and into the toilets. My phone beeped. I read the text message, which was from my boss telling me she'd found a small t.shirt and had it stashed away for me. I put the phone in my pocket, flushed the toilet and felt my phone slip from my pocket down the toilet. My second Trainspotting Moment. The phone seems to be alright. It's a bit glitchy but I can make phonecalls and texts and check the net. I have said before that I just don't believe in insurance.

Ziggy and I are both pretty scunnered with the weather now. I have relaxed a bit with walking him everyday, as long as he never goes two days in a row without a decent walk and they days he doesn't get I make sure I have visitors round to play with him. On Wedensday I went to the Lovely Mel's for lunch. Her mum has two black and tan Jack Russell bitches called Smudge and Midge, or Fudge and Smidge, I can never get it right. Luckily for me Ziggy is always on his best behaviour when we visit other dog's houses (except for his Granny's) and he behaved like a perfect gentleman, despite Smudge barking at him incessantly the whole time he was there. I was glad to see someone else's dog be neurotic for a change.

In the pipeline for 2015 will hopefully be more music making, more laughing, a day-in-the-life video of what Ziggy gets up to at his Granny's house, hanging with the eldest niece every Thursday for the next month or so (I have alrady learned how to play 'Let It Go' from Frozen so M and I can perform it), PASSING MY DRIVING TEST, further consideration of illustrators for various children's book projects, adventuring (a trip to Buckna does me these days), and general happiness. And no doubt 2015 will throw some romance my way which I will mention every once in while, cryptically, in case it all blows up in my face. It's just not cool to do a Tom Cruise on your blog.

The World's Tiniest Frog

I was going to write about Christmas but it was dull. It's over, I survived, yay! New Year was less dull but not worthy of a write up. It was a strange night but good. So, instead I will write about an app that I got for my phone. Jakers was here the other night and he scoffed at my new app, which tells your mood by scanning your thumb. Of course it's a load of bullshit but I made Jakers do it anyway. My mood was passionate. I hoped Jakers didn't think I was gonna pounce on him. He tried it out and the app told him he was yearning. He scoffed at this notion. I tried it again and got confident. Yep, confident that this app was the real deal. Jakers tried it again and got confrontational. Which he was being. To prove the authenticity of the device I scanned Ziggy's paw. He was feeling whimsical. Jakers had one more go and the app told him he was feeling brittle. That's how one can sometimes feel after being confrontational.

Well, 2014 was an interesting year. I had a lot of fun, climbing trees and making music with Gus, and finding the world's tiniest frog (maybe if I'd have kissed it it would have turned into my very own little prince). I had some sadness letting go of people who no longer served me and that seemed to be the strongest message of all for 2014. But, I also learned how to work on the relationships that I know are important and I met some kindred spirits last year who I'm going to get to know a whole lot better this year.

I also watched my wee pup grow up into a young dog. For every bad habit he let go of he picked up a new one and I have learnt that Ziggy is just a tiny dog with one hell of an attitude. Last week he rolled over for Jakers. Now he rolls over for me too. The trick he always refused to do even though he knew how. He grows softer in his old age and he likes to be close to me. I don't need to kiss the world's tiniest frog cos I've got my own little prince right here.

Christmas Has Started

So that's all the work finished for Christmas. All the school work and all the work work (which has been horrendous) and I am back home from my last shift just sitting here going "phew!". I'll have a snooze in a bit because I'm going out tonight for our work xmas dinner. This time last year kinda passed by in a blur. We have decided this year to not have our christmas dinner in the treehouse. Really, it was a lot of hassle bringing all the food and plates up and we didn't light the fire in time for it to be properly cosy and, well, my heart was broken and chicken and stuffing were not going to mend it. That was last year though and this year my heart is beating strong.

All the coursework was very tiresome. I love my course and I love learning and I love writing. I just hate doing it when I know I have to do it and when I have to do it in a certain timeframe. I'm not sure that will ever change. Maybe when I'm 70. We had a lovely last day of class eating party food and doing secret santa. I'm happy that I've got another few years with this crew. My coping strategy at work this past week has been to laugh as much as possible.

I was mostly organised with christmas presents this year. Mostly, I don't think I've ever got it perfect. There's always presents lying around in the springtime. I have some wrapping to do tomorrow. I hope I'm not too hungover. Ziggy is out at his granny's. He has been a little cantankerous of late and barking at people in the street. I'm not sure what's ailing him but I hope he winds his neck in. A cross, yappy little dog is not what I want. I miss my happy, friendly little puppy! I think he might be a bit fed up with the pishy, rainy weather. Well, I guess it's nap time for me :)

For Tomorrow

Aha! Some dude (John Perry) has written a book on the Art of Procrastination! I knew there was a purpose to it. My mate told me he had borrowed a book from the library about proccrastination and how to overcome it. Of course, he hasn't read it yet. I don't know what Perry says about it but I am coming up with my own theory that centres around me not feeling bad for not doing the things I'm supposed to be doing. It goes like this: Procrastination is a modern day concept born out of the illusion of time. The notion of 'time' has changed since man was a more simple being. Time was told by the sun and the seasons. Now time is told by numbers (grrr...numbers!) Cavemen did not procrastinate. They did not put off hunting because they were too busy scratching their bums. So, if procrastination is a symptom of modern day society, it is nothing more than a social construct, in which case, it can be deconstructed (Yeah! We're gonna break that bitch down!) Procrastination is just another word we use to make ourselves feel bad. The word itself comes from the Latin pro meaning 'forward' and crastinus meaning 'of tomorrow' so to put another spin on that, it means putting something off 'til tomorrow and that's a good thing because that means you have faith that tomorrow will come.

I think it's good to take the pressure off and go with the flow and believe that things will happen when they're meant to happen. My tutor last year always used to say "trust the process" and "don't force anything". Why we battle with ourselves internally is a mystery. Always believing we should be doing this, that or the other instead of just doing what we want to do. And sometimes we want to build virtual cities and breed virtual fish and then blog about the whole exciting experience.

Is it obvious that I'm putting off doing my final piece of coursework? I did feel it was very important to write this blog. And play guitar. And drink some wine.