Alive and laughing.

A Picture of You.

2013-01-21T12:15:00.001-08:00

There is nothing quite like memories.

Postcards, letters, pictures and diaries; I've got bundles of them all tucked away in old shoe boxes and storage containers. I don't believe in leaving the past in the past, obviously. I like opening old birthday cards and seeing them signed by someone I love and trace my fingers over the ink dents their pens made. When I'm done reminiscing, I fold the card to it's original state and place it carefully back in to it's neat little envelope cocoon.

Then there are the pictures.

I can't remember when I stopped taking pictures, I must start doing that again because it used to be one of my favourite things. I'd sit as a moody eleven year-old and patch together scrapbooks of pictures I'd taken with my own - now vintage - Barbie camera that was prone to tangling spools. The pictures were of silly things, like the view from my bedroom window or of my trainers that I'd buried up to my ankles in to the soil in the back garden. I was a weird child. (I miss my weirdness. I seem to have lost it somewhere along the way to where I am now.)

Pictures bring with them something that you can't put in to words. As much of a cliché as the phrase is to me now, Arthur Brisbane got it right when he said 'Use a picture. It's worth a thousand words.' They are. They represent a moment in your life that from the second it's taken, you cannot go back to it. You can't physically relive it or skip it because you'll never have it again. It's happened, it's gone.

Well, until you look back at the evidence. Only then can you relive it in it's full detail; the colours, the clothes, the faces are all timeless. Frozen in a nanosecond of time that you felt the need to remember. There's nothing quite like finding an old photograph and being catapulted back in time in your mind, because your immediate reaction is to compare the then to the now. Whether your life is better or worse than the photographic point in your life, it doesn't matter. You look upon it with an element of fondness that no one else will understand because it's your memories and yours alone.

Which is why, when I found a picture of my beloved Papa, my heart filled with a happy love that I've been missing for a while. It's that kind of feeling you cannot buy, imitate or describe; you just know what feeling I'm talking about, don't you? That part of a human being that, no matter what kind of life you've lead or what traumas you've experienced, it never fully disappears. I like to think that's a person's soul where you keep everything you think you've forgotten; faces, smells, tastes, bonds. I don't think a person can fully let go of anything, I think we're designed to suffer, feel and try what life throws at us and it's how we cope with these things that define us. That shapes our souls.

I've been paying too much attention to trivial matters in my life as of late, so I am now ready for a change. Not a 'sitting weeping in the self-help section of the library' kind of change, I mean a simple TLC approach to my life from now on. Avoid people who bring out the worst in me, focus on the ones who are a constant love in my life and brush the negative feelings aside instead of dwelling on them for days on end. I've realised it's no way to live and I can't physically do it anymore, I'm exhausted. I need to rekindle past hobbies and integrate them with my new ones like a watercolor painting; subtle and not too scary.

I feel like I've lost myself sometimes. It's as if I've packed myself away in one of my shoe boxes, hidden away until it's appropriate to come back out in to the real world again. To dust off what feels like a decade's worth of dust from my shoulders and reintroduce myself to everyone again as someone they knew once but can't quite remember where from. I need to be me again, but I need to find 'that' me again.

I'm not a victim, I'm not a dramatic wanker, I'm not a particularly fantastic person either. I do, however, have a few pretty fantastic people in my life right now that I'm holding on to with all of my power. The others? They'll just slip away and I'm okay with that. I'm surviving without their company and will continue to do so, but I won't let them wander in and out of my life. Once you've left, you need to stay gone. Harsh, I know - but that's how I've always approached my friendships and that's how it's going to stay. I don't believe that a person will willingly dwindle down their contact with someone if they still want to be in said person's life. It's just not possible, in my opinion.

A lot can be ascertained by sifting through your memories. So, over the next few weeks, I'll be taking pictures and writing aplenty. I couldn't think of a better way to get to know myself again. It's fun, exciting and something to look forward to.

It'll all be down to my discovery of one little Polaroid shot of a handsome smiling man, taken some twenty-odd years ago at Christmas time.

You're still here, giving me a push in the right direction.
I will love you for ever.

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

2012-12-28T17:27:00.000-08:00

Christmas.

The baby Jesus' birthday or whatever. There was a donkey, failed contraceptives and a threesome involved. If that's not an excuse to eat loads and get drunk with your family then I don't know what is. This is the time of year when you can spoil your loved ones, meet up with old friends you haven't been able to see all year and get leathered on mulled wine in front of your Granny who doesn't mind because 'if it's mulled, it doesn't count'.

Saying that, if I see another piece of turkey in the next few weeks, I'll hurl. Far too much of it has been consumed this year and there are numerous tins of Celebrations scattered around our house. They're all open, of course. Everyone's digging around for the good sweeties; Maltesers, Galaxy, those truffle things... all that's left now are the ones no one wants. Bounty, Mars, Milky Way's all left to ferment.

The past six months have lead up to these past couple of weeks. Realising who/what actually matters. Being with the people you love, that make you laugh and that are there for you night or day. I also realised the people who I want to be there 24/7 for. Not just because I know they'd do it for me, but because I love them.

This was our second Christmas without my Papa. It wasn't as awful as I thought it would be, in all honesty. I didn't forget about him nor did I put a brave face on. I just got on with it! I smiled at memories and cried at the fact we'd never share another December 25th with him. I did however have a little moment when I went Christmas shopping and was about to pick up socks, jumpers and slippers (his usual presents) and had to remind myself that he wasn't here anymore.

Those moments happen quite a lot now. I'll see something funny or shocking in the paper and want to turn around and tell him, but I can't. I forget. I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing, it doesn't feel bad or good. It just feels... normal. Normal is something I haven't felt for around three years, even before he passed away. I take some comfort in the fact he's not sitting on Christmas Day in pain or in an intensive care unit, but that doesn't fill the empty seat at the dinner table when we sit down as a family. That comfort doesn't bounce through the door at 8am on Christmas morning, give you a cuddle and a kiss on the cheek and wish you a Merry Christmas. It just nestles itself in your chest and reminds you everything is going to be fine.

So, that's what 2013 is going to be: fine.

Well, I'm going to try and make it better than fine, but it's a gradual process, ain't it? Last year started off horrific, this year will be fine and you never know... 2014 could start off good. Imagine that!

Things I'm looking forward to in 2013:

There is a someone. I like him. Very much.
I have the greatest family I could ever ask for.
My friends are all kinds of awesome (even if there are fewer than there were last year!).
I'm no longer mad at certain people (I still loathe them, but hey, maybe that'll fade...).
Johnny Depp is single. (In case bullet point number one fails. ALWAYS HAVE A BACK-UP!)

Nothing is happening with bullet point number one, by the way. It's just nice to fancy someone without a load of drama. A nice feeling. But hey, if nothing comes of it, who cares. It's making me happy right now. I need to live in the moment more.

So that's all folks. Have an awesome festive holiday and a cracking New Year.

See you in 2013!

A cure for caring.

2012-08-26T14:05:00.002-07:00

Have you ever heard a bigger lie than, "I've learned to stop caring about what other people think" coming out of someone's mouth? It's all I seem to be hearing lately.

There is categorically no way that you can learn to stop caring. It's a part of our make-up, separates us from the animals, blah blah blah, etc. I have said it, you have said it, we've all said it and inside we all know we're talking complete bullshit. You'd rather hide the fact that you're hurt than expose that part of yourself to anyone - been there, done that. Shit happens, people suck and life's a bitch. What annoys me, is that we all listen to these people spouting off about how happy they are now that they've cut all ties with things or people who were making them unhappy and think to ourselves, "Am I doing something wrong?"

No.

Time heals all wounds, I believe. We need to learn that when someone hurts us that they shouldn't get off with it Scot-free. You are allowed to tell others what they have done to you, whether they believe you or not that's their problem. It's part of the healing process. The past year of my life has taught me more about friendship than years of primary/high school or college ever did. It's when you're at your lowest that you know who your true friends are because they'll be standing right there beside you, making sure you'll cope and when you can't - they step in without a second thought. That is true friendship to me, that's what I want.

I know I'll never stop caring about people who have hurt me, but that doesn't mean I'll forget what they have done. I'll hold them at arms length if they ever resurface in my life and I'll keep them as far away from my heart as I can. Sometimes things are unforgivable, sometimes too much time passes for you to accept an apology, sometimes there's just too much damage already done.

Sometimes they really should have thought twice about hurting you.

Thinking things that shouldn't be thought.

2012-08-20T16:54:00.002-07:00

I had a bit of an odd evening in work tonight. Odd in a good way, I hate to admit.

A person I haven't thought about in months came in to my mind today and, well, stayed there. I'm still thinking about him right now. It's the radio's fault, really.

As some of you may know (Twitter followers) I've been working the back shift for a few weeks now - so naturally, to keep all of us upbeat and awake, we blast the radio as we work. It's good for your mood, as well as the fact you don't really need to spend time speaking to folk. Anyway, tonight was no different; the tunes were blasting. Then an advert came on that just made me smile. It's a seasonal ad, so the last time I heard it, I had been in his company.

He hated it.

Not with the fervent hatred we all have reserved for the Go Compare man but like proper, boiling hatred. He'd go on and on and on about it every time we met up again for weeks. I of course found this hilarious because, well, that's me. Which is why I ended up standing in the middle of a crowded production line grinning my arse off like a complete idiot. And you know what? I didn't care. I felt a little twinge of happiness, mixed with regret - we haven't met up in months and things ended a little awkwardly the last time we saw each other. But that little moment tonight has made me realise I really do miss him, even though I shouldn't.

I shouldn't miss him because he probably doesn't miss me and that's okay. It doesn't bother me, not everyday. Just at a time like this when even the thought of bumping in to him puts a big, stupid smile on my face. I'd be lying if I said I didn't love this feeling.

So, I just wanted to write about it, before I forget it and it's gone forever.

Yours always,
Soppy Git.

How 'involved' is too 'involved'?

2012-06-30T09:53:00.005-07:00

High school is a tough place to grow up in.

Bullies, geeks, musicians, singers, geniuses, athletes, gingers, smelly kids, cute boys, hot teachers, awful canteen food and skipping classes. Those are just some of the experiences we've all been through and the people we used to face on a daily basis. Sometimes it was terrifying but on the other hand, some of the best days of my life were spent in high school. I met my best friends there, I went out with my first boyfriend, I realised what I wanted to do with the rest of my life there.

But, as the world would have it, with the good came the bad. I was bullied for the first two years of high school, quite severely, by a girl I had grown-up with (and the girls she hung around with) and who I thought was my friend. The reason? Someone showed her a text I'd sent, apparently stating that I hated her and that she was 'crusty'. This girl had psoriasis - I'd seen her go through hell all through her childhood, it was painful and she hated it. I sent no such text message, of course, but she believed someone else over me and, in turn, made my life complete torture for two entire years. Important years, may I add. Years I should have spent giggling in classes, making new friends and growing up. In those two years, I was too scared to do any of that. I stayed far away from new people, kept my head down in class and avoided eye contact with the majority. She'd text abuse and leave me vile voicemails when I was at home, so even then I couldn't relax. It was a living nightmare.

I survived, though. I didn't run away, hurt myself or end up emotionally scarred. I just learned. I learned not to trust people entirely, unless they are your family or, indeed, yourself. Always trust yourself, you're all you've got in some situations and that's something no one can take away from you if you have it. It's there for life, an investment, if you will.
Everything happens for a reason.

The real reason for this post is because my little sister went through a bit of a rough patch this week with some 'friends'. Bitchy text messages, Twitter mentions and all the other sneaky little ways they could think of to get at her. Naturally as an older sister, I keep an eye on what's happening on her phone - I don't snoop, she shows me her phone when she thinks it's something I should know about. She's open about that sort of stuff (unlike me when I was her age), therefore I see everything. These girls she hangs around with don't really remember this when they're sending her these messages.

I like to let them know, one way or another, that I can see exactly what's going on. I reply to them and remove the phone from G's possession until the situation is resolved, when my Mum calls their's or vice versa. This time, I was in the firing line from one of the mothers. She wanted to tell me that her daughter was 'alone' and 'didn't have anyone to stand up for her' unlike my little sister.

Excuse me, but isn't that your fault for not procreating? And how is that an excuse for her to send my sister cheek over the phone/internet? It isn't my problem that your daughter cannot speak to you about her problems. That's your fault as a parent.

Fair enough, I'm having a bit of a rant and don't mean any disrespect to the woman or her daughter, it's not them I'm getting at. It's what's behind people's assumptions (I know, I've just assumed she doesn't speak to her daughter properly) and what gives people the right to treat others badly.

This begs the question, how involved is too involved?

I will never stop being there for my sister, ever. But should I have backed off this time? Should I have just taken the phone off of her and let my Mum make the phone calls? I don't know - I acted the way I needed to at that point. It may seem like a big deal was made out of this, which it was, but for a reason. You need to stand your ground at an early stage. You need to show people like that that you're not a push over.

I did for her what I wish someone had done for me years ago. I did the right thing, whether people think so or not.

A messy week.

2012-06-17T13:00:00.002-07:00

I have lived up to my own expectations this week.

My week got off to a pretty bad start; I was removed from my comfort zone. As I work for an agency, this means I am sometimes required to move around the factory grounds going from hall to hall for shifts. It can be pretty awesome if you need a change, but in my case it was the opposite, it was a bit of a nightmare. I'm not good with change, so I descended in to panic.

I've worked in every hall possible in the three years I've been working there on and off, so I'm qualified for most of the jobs. But each hall has their ways of working and I'm not entirely familiar with them all (this is the part that panics me). I'm good at the jobs I do, I don't doubt myself in my little comfort zone - but when I'm moved I become overly anxious. Anxious to the point of a panic attack. It's normal for me as I've been like this my entire life, but I wonder if it's normal for anyone else?

Anyway, in my last post I spoke about my mission to do something unforgettable for my little sister's birthday. I had planned on taking her away for a long weekend to Dublin to witness a gig of a lifetime, Westlife, The Wanted & Lawson at Croke Park stadium for the last time. But, thanks to Ryanair, we're staying here. I was absolutely gutted when I went to book our flights, they were now priced at a staggering £400 return. Baggage was extortionate as was the insurance policy. If only I had booked up months ago and saved myself all this hassle. My worst worry was having to tell G that we wouldn't be doing anything nearly as awesome for her birthday this year. It felt like I'd made her an empty promise. Naturally she was devastated, which broke my heart. There's nothing worse than disappointing a loved one, is there? She had been looking forward to it for weeks, we both had, but now we were going nowhere.

But, remember what I said in my last post?

"Somehow I miraculously manage to get these things done. I don't know how or why, I just do. It's a sort of hidden talent, I guess."

I have indeed lived by that and managed to arrange something just as spectacular. That night I searched the internet for options. A weekend away, a gig or two here and there. I had saved up a good few quid for this, so it wasn't as if I had no money to do anything. Then it hit me.

G had mentioned that The Wanted had a gig near the end of June in Blackpool. She had begged my Mum to go with one of her mates, but by then I had filled my Mum in about my Dublin plans, so we pretended it couldn't happen. G sulked, we smirked because we knew how happy she was about to be.

Ticketmaster was my ultimate saviour. There were tickets left and they were a fraction of the cost I had anticipated. The biggest result if there ever was one. I managed to bag two tickets, a B&B for £30 and a cheap as hell return deal with National Express. We are, ladies and gentleman, back in business. Blackpool here we come!

Oh, and the Westlife thing? Yeah, shame that didn't turn out as planned. It would have been nice to see them in their home town for the last time. I guess I'll just have to settle with third row for their last Glasgow gig. Yes! I bagged two tickets for Tuesday the 19th of June, the day before G's birthday. A result of a result of a result if there ever was one.

I think it's safe to say that G is ecstatic once again and luckily everything is bought, booked and paid for now, so there will be no last-minute let downs. I can relax.

Phew.

So, I'm ending this week on a high, people. A proper one.

Worries, Dublin and too much Big Bang Theory...

2012-06-08T10:12:00.002-07:00

Seven weeks since I last blogged.

You'd think I had an exciting life or something. (For the record, I don't!) I've just been busy in my own head with loads of different things; university (do I want to go, do I not?), being back to work and earning pretty good money again and going for a placement with a fantastic radio station who may or may not have forgotten my existence (I am filling their inbox - as dirty as that may sound). On top of that my financial situation absolutely sucks.

I'm taking my little sister away to Dublin for her birthday weekend in two weeks time, so I'm running around like a blue-arsed fly trying to get everything sorted in time. I'm terrible at organising things and really should have kept it quiet until I'd got everything booked and paid for. I am a noob. On the other hand, I am incredibly talented at managing to get by, by the on the skin of my teeth. Somehow I miraculously manage to get these things done. I don't know how or why, I just do. It's a sort of hidden talent, I guess.

I'm currently sitting on my laptop in our kitchen, trying not to pull my hair out whilst looking at all these 'cheap' flights to Dubs. £195 each return. In what universe is that cheap? I can go on holiday for a bloody week to Malawi for that on Jet2.com! If any of you lovely lot have suggestions on where to look online, please, please, pleeease give me a shout. I will repay you in cuddles.

I blame the Jubilee for all this hassle.

In fact, I will continue to blame that old woman for everything bad that happens to me over the next few weeks. Tripping over my own feet = her fault. Not being able to eat in Dublin because I've spent all my money getting us there = her fault. Death by Ryanair = her fault...

... You catch my drift. (Bare with me, I haven't babbled in over 42 days.)

On a lighter note, I now have my internet connection back for the foreseeable future. I am happy about this. It was a good deed from my neighbour, letting us pillage his WiFi until we get our new techy gear from Plusnet, and I'm also back at work now after a five month blip. It wasn't as fun as it sounds; sitting around all day with nothing but your own thoughts to occupy you. It gets pretty scary sometimes. Work is as good as it was when I was there last (not the place I posted about with Bully) but now back in my comfort zone; surrounded by machinery, middle-aged women and good banter. I sound like some sort of lesbian cougar-hunter, don't I? Oh well, I've been called worse.

I've also been watching far too much Big Bang Theory these past couple of weeks, it's become an obsession now. (As well as my irrational crush on Jim Parsons.) It is true what folk say about how empty you feel when you reach the end of a fantastic programme! Wondering what to indulge in next, any suggestions? It's good to just sit down, relax and get swept up in great story lines. Grey's Anatomy is perhaps my next plan of action. Mainly for the McDreamy & McSteamyness.

Well folks, that's been a summary of my last 42+ days. Shame you didn't miss anything exciting, eh?

How judgemental is TOO judgemental?

2012-04-23T05:44:00.000-07:00

Religious backgrounds, lifestyle choices, which football team someone supports... these are huge all social dividers. Everyone has their opinions on Catholics, Protestants, homosexuals, skin colour and wealth (or lack of) - most of which stem from their own experiences and upbringing, some opinions are passed down from generations in some cases.

I'll use sectarianism as an example, as it takes up quite a chunk of Scottish broadcasting. There seems to be a huge amount of negative press about two teams in particular in the SPL - I'm sure you'll all guess which ones. I won't state who I support for the purpose of making an unbiased point: the Scottish media advocate bad behaviour. They thrive on reporting violence after an Old Firm game instead of focussing on the good things that come out of such games; tourists coming to spend their money in the city, charities being put in to the limelight, young boys and girls getting to live out their dreams because of Scottish clubs (all clubs, not just Celtic & Rangers - just using them both as an example). None of this is ever publicised, yet people have formed an opinion of the supporters from news coverage. The news/newspapers add fuel to the fire by employing 'journalists' like Andy Goram, Bill Leckie and Craig Burley. Where are the college and University graduates who can write detailed, truthful and exciting articles? They're struggling to find jobs whilst these morons spout their hatred in national newspapers.

That's the sad truth.

I used to work in Parkhead as an events steward, in that time I worked at many Old Firm games - ironically these were the calmest games of the season. There was perhaps four fights in total, and that was stretched over months. But, according to the papers, there was 'chaos' within the stadium at half time during the games. This is as far from the truth as you can get, and why? Because it sells papers and ignites hatred within bigoted people. That's why. We're all entitled to an opinion, but to have it published to millions of people, a mandatory self-editing process should be essential. This is the real problem, not Scottish football. That is a game. The people who go out in search of a fight are NOT football supporters, they are mindless thugs. They would pick any excuse to cause a rammy. For every bigoted idiot there are thousands of fans who attend games because they love their team.

Do not judge someone on the team they support.

So, I took to trusty Twitter to ask: Do you think you're judgemental? If so, why? Do you ever voice your judgements?

The following replies were anonymous:

"Yes, cause I've always been a gobby shite. At 4 I was lecturing the older boys about their swearing. Wee dick so I was! And in terms of voicing I'm split. I never voice a judgemental thought to a woman. Not polite, nasty and results in a boot in the stones!"

"If judgemental involves getting annoyed with someone who can't perform simple task that I can then I'm probably judgemental about abilities"

"I try not to be too judgemental, but I know I am. Intellect is a big one. *** can't read, which was a really tough one to deal with. He was named after *** a book he will never have the pleasure of reading. And he is still good, and happy."

This is the general opinion. We all judge. Someone made a point of saying it depends on what it is and if a person will admit being anti-something without fear of being judged themselves. Is it fear that stops gay marriage being legalised or ignorance? Is it the media that dictates whether a nation is racist or religious? And at what point do we draw the line and mind our own bloody business?

I suppose only we ourselves will know. But for now, this has been an interesting afternoon writing this.

What are your experiences with judgement? Has it ever gone in your favour or are you non-bias in every situation?

If Guinness did getaways...

2012-04-22T13:53:00.000-07:00

I was in Ireland for a few days this week, and guess what? It was absolutely awesome. Myself and a couple of mates (some I met through my college course last year) volunteered to take part in this year's Celtic Media Festival, which just happened to be in Derry.

The journey there was filled with laughs and beer - but the real fun came when we got to The Playhouse. What a gorgeous building with an amazing history and the Manager, Niall, couldn't have been a nicer host. We met some of the most influential people involved with the media in the UK and even managed to get interviews with a few of them. I also got to chat about some opportunities at University, which is extremely exciting! The networking opportunities were fantastic, you just don't get to do it properly at other events. You're not judged for taking the conversation to the bar. The best conversations always take place in pubs, anyway!

Which brings me to the most important part: the pubs. All cheap, cheerful and full of Guinness. It's amazing how much of the stuff us lot went through in three and a half days. I wouldn't be surprised if we drank the city dry! The locals were all lovely and welcoming and very appreciative of the Scottish accent. Due to this, I'm welcome back, according to a rather drunk bartender.

It's just about the best trip I've been on so far. Here's to many more!

A few photos from my time in Derry...

Brilliant street sign in the heart of the city.

Me, on my double bed in Travelodge, Derry.

Gorgeous fountains in the middle of the city center.

Bus home!

An old cooker in the toilets of the refurbished Playhouse.

View from our room.

Art in the back garden of The Playhouse.

'Oops!'

2012-03-13T15:17:00.001-07:00

We've all experienced at least one moment in our lives that made us groan, 'Please let the ground open up and swallow me!' over and over again until the cringing and self-loathing stops. Some folk say it's Karma but I don't believe that, even the nicest person in the world has slipped arse-over-tit in the middle of a shopping center, been out on an important date and stepped in dog shit or dropped their mobile phone down a nightclub toilet and had to fish it back out again (ahem, that would be me...). Horrendous things happen to not-so horrendous people all the time.

The reason? Life's a bitch.

But you don't die just yet. Oh no. You get to endure lots of horrific moments before then, moments that can come to define you as a person. When something bad happens to you and you chose to tell your friends, especially during childhood, beware... this will happen to you:

It's best in life, to keep your clumsy indiscretions as private as possible as it's almost certainly going to follow you in to adulthood. I won't even dish out advice about not being daft as an adult, it's 100 times funnier and all slaggings are moderately deserved/never forgotten.

Earlier this week I decided to do a bit of research on the subject of embarrassing moments on Twitter, and asked my followers for their worst experiences as adults. After careful consideration, much laughs and winces of sympathy, I picked out the five best moments sent to me, for comparison purposes only:

'My Dad walked in on me and my boyfriend when we were... y'know. I thought he was out at work, I still can't look him in the eye.'
'I sent a dirty message to a future boyfriend on Twitter, except I accidently broadcast it to all of my followers. Some of them even REPLIED.'
'A girl came up to me in a nightclub and was adamant that we'd slept together. I had no idea who she was and don't remember ever sleeping with her'.
'I had a one night stand with a guy at uni and didn't think we'd ever meet again. Until I started going out with a guy and went home to meet his parents - the one night stand was his brother.'
'I came home early from college and interrupted my Dad and his girlfriend shagging in the shower.'

Those are just a few of the stories I received, as you can see, pretty scarring. But also a little bit hilarious.

My latest online indiscretion has been accidently following a crush from my old workplace - he supports the same football team as me, so based on his name in the 'Who To Follow' section on Twitter, I assumed he'd be useful to follow for game/club updates. I didn't even look at his picture. Now, this is where I get a bit freaked out; I have no idea how long I've followed him or if he has ever followed me back. No biggy, right?

Wrong.

I've tweeted about him several times when on my way in to work/when we've smiled and said hello to each other. AND I DON'T KNOW IF HE'S SEEN THIS. My blood ran cold when I noticed a tweeter in common (also one of my mates in RL) conversing with him. So, I clicked on to his profile to see what he looked like. Big mistake. My blood ran cold and I realised exactly who he was and my mind whirled back to last year when I'd been going on about how much I'd fancied him! Nooooooo!

I'm still reluctant on whether or not to protect my tweets. I immediately unfollowed him, which may have made things worse. He's invited to my birthday party at the end of the month, which I am dreading now in case I get put on the spot and humiliated. Deary, deary me.

So, dear readers, the moral of my story is: always check out the person you're following. ALL of them. Their pictures, location and tweeters in common, it may save you a shed load of embarrassment.

Any embarrassing stories to share? Leave them below!

The power of the Social Network...

2012-03-01T16:34:00.003-08:00

I'm guessing if you're here, reading this, the majority of you will have been directed this way by a post on a social network. I tend to Tweet when I've blogged as Twitter is where I have a larger audience to broadcast my musings to. I haven't got that many 'real life' friends following me on Twitter, but you never know who's having a good old creep-a-thon.

Well, I do... thanks to Statcounter. *waves at mental stalker person*

I'm all for self-promotion on social networking sites; it's shown to be a great key for businesses to reach out to customers and allow them to advertise their products to a wider range of people all over the globe. If I owned my own business I'd sure as hell be using Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn etc. The statistics speak for themselves.

But, unfortunately, there are many different ways of using these sites. Some people become addicted to them and end up sharing major news or dramas online; pregnancy revelations/scans, arguments, intimate details of relationships and all-round backbiting. So, the purpose of this post is to ask ourselves a question―how much sharing is too much sharing?

Some prime examples:

A couple announcing their pregnancy live on Facebook.

An argument about the Bible.

Indirect anger broadcast to friends and family.

That's the kind of behaviour that is being broadcast online every day. I realise I've only used examples from Facebook, but it's where I see it most. It's odd and uncomfortable to read, but people respond constantly, and this often sparks online rampages that can last days, even weeks.

I've seen some unbelievable things during my time on Facebook―even the divorce of couples. Family, friends and friends' families. You're friends with both parties but, with the help of Facebook, you can watch things unfolding and unraveling as time goes by. Divorce proceedings, custody battles and even affairs. I've seen workmates posting things to each other publicly (how hard is it to hit the private message button?), only to have it spread throughout their place of employment the next day.

It's constantly mentioned on The Jeremy Kyle Show and in relationship statistics as a major cause or contribution to infidelity. Basically, it's becoming easier and easier to cheat on someone because your secrets are hidden behind passwords and private mails―just because you're not interacting with the 'other person' in real-life doesn't mean it's not wrong.

Have you been shocked to see something on a social networking site? Did you ever read a post and think 'that's no one else's business, what are they doing'? Share some of your experiences with social networking...

Stranger Danger...

2012-02-26T15:07:00.001-08:00

This weekend has been one of the best in a few months or so, mainly because I didn't need to worry about the bloody JobCentre for the first time since Christmas. I caught up with all my friends, old and new, and just enjoyed being (sort of) carefree for a couple of days! I also got my Netflix mojo back and have been knee-deep in documentaries - so I've gotten myself sorted out. Not completely, but I'm getting there slowly, but surely.

Now, on to the topic of this post.

As I said I did a bit of catching up with my friends over the weekend and ended up staying with E (best friend from high school - how we ended up being best friends is a story in itself!). She lives in Glasgow, around a 30-45 minute bus journey away from me. So, picture this; 7pm on a dark and rainy Saturday night, I'm standing at the bus stop directly across from my house, my overnight bag slung over one shoulder (laden with PJ's and a bottle of wine, naturally) and alone. Now, I never usually get tense about being alone at bus stops with strangers, but your instincts tend to do the overreacting for you when the sun goes down and the streets quieten. It also creates silly scenarios in your head.

Even more so when a tall, lanky man comes strutting towards the almost-empty bus stop (having passed by one just a few hundred yards away) in a long dark coat with his hood up and stares directly at me as he comes to stand beside me. He doesn't say a word, which creeps me out big time. I was sitting by the bus timetables and he must have towered over me about half a dozen times "checking" which time his bus was due at. I could see him in the reflection of the glass - so knew every move he made near me. Paranoid? Yes. Needed? Yes.

He stood for a good twenty or so minutes, getting up and looking around before sitting back down or coming over to look at the timetable again. It was really weird behaviour, and I was genuinely freaked out. I even contemplated calling my house and asking my Mum to come out and watch me at the bus stop, just in case he was some sort of psychopath. Knowing her, she'd have come over and stood with me. I'd have welcomed that, but it was cold, dark and damp. By this point I was getting a bit jittery, as four buses had passed us and he hadn't gotten on one - so I started thinking he was waiting to see which bus I got on, and would get off at the same stop and follow me. I know, it sounds completely paranoid - but it happens to folk every day.

Just before I was about to give up on my night with E and retreat home, he stood up, mumbled something angrily and stomped off up the road. Creepy. I stood up and sheepishly looked to see where he was off to, and noticed him practically running in the opposite direction of the bus stop. Very, very weird and it shook me up rather badly.

Have you ever been in a similar situation, or been so vulnerable and paranoid you started thinking the absolute worst about a complete stranger?

Dear 2011...

2012-01-15T13:43:00.000-08:00

First off, this isn't just about the year 2011, it's about the people who were in my life in this year and my experience with a certain black dog. (Winston Churchill will fill you in on what I'm on about.) It's the most in depth blog post I've ever written, and for a while I wasn't sure I'd ever write it. It's a pretty big deal to me, but I hope that it might help someone who has the same doubts and lows that I've experienced (and still do, don't get me wrong. I'm not totally over it). A lot of people didn't know this about me, and it probably never even occurred to them to see it or look for it. I hide it pretty well, I think.

So here it is in it's entirety. How one year managed to screw up my life, mind and beliefs.

Dear 2011,

I've made it to the other side of you, I made it past your darkness and the way you made me feel. The people you pushed in to my life, I'd replace them with the ones you took away from me in a heartbeat. I know I'll always feel like this; you showed me no remorse and continued to try and crush me. It felt like you had me in a straight jacket, restrained, like I was a spectator in my own world. My life passed me by and I didn't have time to react or take it all in; for a year, you tried to murder the old me.

But you didn't. You couldn't. You weren't strong enough. I murdered you and the feelings, memories and heartache that you left me with. I'm here. I've survived the worst you could throw at me, and I'm here. I'm not the person I was before you, I'm better. I know what to expect from certain situations, from certain people and what to look out for when it comes to me. You came at me when I was unaware, when I didn't know what to do to stop what was going to happen. You chose to tear me apart when I was at my lowest ebb. You broke me down until I felt I couldn't be me anymore, that no one wanted to know me, that no one could love me. That all of the good people in my life would be wrenched from my soul and taken away forever. So that I couldn't talk to them, couldn't see them again, couldn't confide in them. You did that to me, and I survived.

It took me a while to realise that I wasn't me anymore. I was someone who hated her existence, someone who thought she needed someone's approval to be a real person, someone who's personality was used against them when others were jealous. When a kind nature is a bad thing and self-defense is bullying; that's when my life was put in to perspective. When bad people were exposed for who they really were and friends aren't really friends at all, just users until the next best thing comes along or want you to listen to their problems, but when you need them they've suddenly disappeared. You made me lose faith in people being good and kind-hearted, instead you showed me the ugly side of them; the ones who only showed you sympathy so they could get it back when they felt they needed an ego-boost. You showed me what it felt like to be deleted out of two of my best friends' lives for ridiculous reasons, never to properly hear from them again.

But the one thing I will never, ever forgive you for, is taking away my Papa. My best friend in the entire world. You did it so abruptly and heartlessly. You didn't even give me or the family time to process what was happening. You made me worry day and night, gave me sleepless night after sleepless night wondering if I went to sleep, would he be gone in the morning. You took away what was once my thing: my positivity. My ability to look past the bad things happening and know that once I was past it, I'd be okay again. I haven't felt that way in so long. Maybe I'll get that back one day, but who knows. I'd swap him back in the place of all of those ugly, soulless human beings I've come to know over the past year in a heartbeat. I'd replace them all with one good man, and the world would be somewhat right again.

I guess what I'm trying to say in this post, 2011, is that you sucked. Majorly. But you taught me everything I'll ever need to know about myself and about the people I let in to my life. You made me accept that losing people close to me is a fact of life, one that I'll never change, and something that should never be changed. I am who I am because of these people and in spite of these people; I have been molded in to a person no one else can replicate. I have learned to appreciate the little things; a weekend with the family, a break from those I see everyday, running in to old friends and it's like you've never parted, a pink sky just before the sun sets, hearing my little sister laugh like she's just heard the funniest thing ever.

You've taken so much of me, but you've made me rebuild what was missing and to take a good look at what I have and who I am, what my ambitions are and what's made me feel so mortally depressed that I lost all motivation in life. You gave me reasons to turn everything around and be the me I've always wanted to be; the one who can speak her mind, the one who can move on from broken relationships, the one who can be bold as fuck and give as good as I get when someone's upset me. I can be that person.

I am that person, now. Because of 2011.

The land of the unemployed...

2012-01-09T03:36:00.000-08:00

And so Monday morning brings with it a grumpy postman, a ton of bills and my P45. Oh, and my last pay slip to show how much money I've pissed away in 2011. There is rarely a morning I wake up and life slaps me straight in the chops. Baring in mind, I am not moaning or regretting my decision to quit my job; I am simply mourning the loss of my wages. As I am allowed to do.

But, alas, today is not going to be squandered on self-pity and misery, I'm getting up and tidying the house for my mother, job hunting, printing CV's and making a few phone calls and walking the little pup. Who, by the way, looks more miserable than I do.

The only thing I am dreading is the walk of shame in to the Job Center. So full of junkies, neds and basically full of the people who do not want to work, because they're already getting everything handed to them on a plate. (Not an assumption, I've learned this from experience.) The few people like myself who sit there week after week being humiliated and given £110 every 14 days to get told, 'you're not doing enough' after 20 interviews in a month, by an acne-riddled teenager sitting behind a desk who's probably just fell in to their job. People who tar the unemployed with the same brush have obviously never had to sign-on or be scrutinized for calling every one and their granny begging for an interview and not getting one.

On my last lovely little adventure in to the Job Center in Paisley Town Center, I was told by my adviser that it was a shame I wasn't 'dependent on something'. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I was told that because I wasn't a single mother of nine or a junkie meth-head that I wasn't really good enough to apply for the benefits I am entitled to. I ask you; what is the world coming to when you're a second class citizen to people who don't pay taxes, who come from a generation of benefit frauds and drug abusers. That's the reality. The Scheme wasn't 'just for a laugh' folks, that's what it's actually like in parts.

It's not the money I'll miss (I'll adapt), it's the routine of getting out of bed early, up and dressed and out the door. Coming in after a hard day and being able to chill out. My experience with unemployment isn't rosy, as I doubt anyone's is, it's easy to fall in to a slump of laziness and being exhausted from doing absolutely nothing all day. You lose all drive and the 'go get it' attitude you had before the endless queue of people telling you 'try harder' or ask you what you do for a living, and as soon as you reply, 'I'm unemployed' you get that look. Like you're a leper.

I just hope I won't fall in to that pit of boredom and end up like this:

Fingers crossed...

A New Year Revelation...

2012-01-06T17:06:00.000-08:00

My first post of 2012!

How was everyone's festive period? Food and family feud filled? Of course it was. I'll bet a few of you cheeky monkeys even went as far as to snog your boss at the Christmas party. Dirty beasts.

Well, on to my news (if you can call it 'news'), it's self-indulgent and probably a little bonkers, so I'll agree with anyone who's sitting with a face like this...

... by the end of the post.

I couldn't have hoped for a better start to the year, because the first piece of news was about my old manager wanting me back in to work in the bottling halls. Now, I work for an agency, so the shifts are day-to-day. Basically, I could be employed on the Monday and on the brew by Tuesday morning; that's the life of a temporary worker these days, no contracts, no promise of a future full-time position... nothing. But, like I said, it was a good offer nonetheless. It's money at the end of the day, right?

Wrong.

My Mum came home from work yesterday to tell me that the manager had asked which days I'd be available, so, panicked, I said, 'Any day.' This was a mistake. Because as soon as those two little words left my mouth all I could think was, Do I really want to spend this year like the last? Do I really want to skrimp and save and not enjoy each day because I'm in a job I don't want? No. I didn't say anything though, because, I figured I'd work a few shifts until I got paid off, then just not come back.

It all came out tonight in a mini-meltdown/argument with my Mum (as it always does). I basically realised that I was accepting the shifts to make her happy, because that's what I thought she wanted. All the wrong reasons to go back in there. In the end she told me not to be daft, and apologised for being a little forceful.

Now's the part where y'all go: 'She's turning down earning money to go and sign on? In the state this country's in?' Well... yes. I'm one of the very few lucky people to have understanding parents when it comes to careers and what my aspirations are; I want to work in the media, broadcasting, writing, radio, telly... you name it and I'll do it. It's all about the drive and the people you have supporting you. If I didn't have my parents backing me up I couldn't possibly make decisions like I did tonight. No way would I have willingly turned down ex-amount of money to hit the Job Center and find a part-time job to suit a future Uni/college course.

That's how people end up regretting not following their dreams, resenting the job they're doing and basically being unhappy with their lives. I don't want to be that person, I was that person for two years and I'm only twenty years old. There's possibly nothing worse than sitting in an environment every day, counting the minutes and wishing you were doing something else. Wishing your life away as your mind taunts you about the things you could be doing at that very moment. There was absolutely no other feeling I experienced every day I walked in to work for two years, it was torture.

I know how that sounds, by the way. I know there are people out there who are begging for jobs and money to keep their houses warm and their kids fed. I know. But those aren't reasons why I should keep bogging myself down for a thankless job. I want to be selfish and I want to do something that makes me happy.

So, this is the start of it all... I'll say that much. From here on I'm giving it 100%.

Here goes...

Goodbye 2011.

2011-12-31T14:05:00.000-08:00

It seems that for almost everyone, that this year hasn't been the best. It's the worst write-up I've seen in my life, actually. About 2% of my timeline on Twitter enjoyed 2011, and the reasons for those were because they met celebrities or were chuffed that 'Steps got back together'.

This has been a defining year for me as a person (as cheesy as that sounds!); I've gained and lost a bunch of friends, fallen in love, fallen back out of love, said goodbye to my Papa and learned not to take things for granted. This year has shown me a lot of love and a lot of hate, and I would definitely have done things a little differently for selfish reasons, but I wouldn't have not spoke to that guy or not fallen out with that friend, because, at the end of the day, I wouldn't have really known what it is to fall in love with someone or lose a close friend and feel all that anger and hurt. Those are things that make life worth living and at least I'll know what to expect the next time around.

Today I've been bombarded with folk saying 'how can you justify making a fresh start just because the date has changed', 'everything will be just the same next year'. Not for me, it won't. Because I'm getting off my arse and changing it all. I won't have another year like this one, because I can't repeat this year over again. Different doesn't mean it'll be any better; it'll just be more. I'm grateful for another year and albeit without someone I love, I'll survive. I still have memories that'll get me through. People who look at 2012 as a new start are the hopefuls, the ones who want change and the ones who will make it happen. The people who moan about such hope are the ones who'll end up repeating their mistakes and never being happy with what life gives them.

Expect something different to happen, hope for it. Why not? What have you got to lose? Nothing. Do something crazy and be happy about it; follow or change your ambitions, look for a better job, make new friends, go to gigs, listen to new music, discover a bit more about yourself... All these things are actually possible. You can do these things, and I know, because I have.

I've realised this could possibly be the cheesiest blog I've ever written, but I needed to write it. I'll look back on it a year from now and think about how different life was now. It may be simpler now, it may be boring, but I've never had a year like this one and I'm never going to again. That's what I look forward to. Not achieving pointless resolutions, not wallowing on lost friendships or unrequited love. Just freshness, new goals and more to achieve.

You've only got one life, I suggest you live it.

I quit...

2011-12-23T14:58:00.000-08:00

[It's official, I am unemployed.

I've quite possibly done the most radical, awesometastic thing I've ever done in my life or I've ultimately fucked myself over at Christmas time. I'll be entering 2012 with practically no money and no job, but with 32 physical copies of my CV for the taking.

I finally did it; I quit my soul-destroying, happiness-sucking, more-hassle-than-its-worth job. And I have never been happier. I can't tell you how good it felt to tell my boss that, come January, I wouldn't be walking back through that door. I wasn't coming back to the environment that, for the past 7 months has been boring the life out of me, making me an emotional wreck and become so cynical that it was affecting my relationships outside of work.

The one thing that I am grateful for out of all that mess, is that I gained a perspective that not everyone is what they seem. They may look fun, friendly and trustworthy on the outside, but on the inside they're evil, manipulative and just so miserable within their own existence that they feel the need to bring others down. And these people end up being the ringleaders of a group; twisting their minds in to their way of thinking and basically ruining everyone's mood at the drop of a hat. They're bullies.

My bully was a 50-year-old woman for Christ's sake. A grown woman. Someone you'd think had their shit together when it came to life. She's settled in a huge house, has kids and a husband and still isn't happy. Until she's making others miserable. Until she's making her coworkers so unhappy that the only option they have is to either leave or ask to be transferred. The boss doesn't even challenge her most of the time, and these are the things she fed off of.]

I sat and typed all of this out on the 22nd of December. One full week and a day ago. As you can see I was kind of full of rage/hate at the time; so I didn't post it because, if I'm honest, it wasn't like me. And it was almost Christmas. Now of course I can bitch freely without hindrance. Yay!

No, only kidding, I'm over it and firmly back on the job-hunting wagon. All's well it ends well and all that, huh?

It's that time of year again...

2011-12-19T12:41:00.000-08:00

Christmas.

An exciting time for kids/parents/grandparents all around the world. In my world, it's the time of year when I run around like a blue-arsed fly at the last minute trying to get the 'perfect gift' for loved ones and best friends. It's not exciting, it's not fun. But the look on their faces when they open their presents is. I love seeing my little sister's face light up when she sees she's got a new pair of high-tops, or a brand new bike. That's what is so good about Christmas; not the fact that you're getting something.

This year has been really odd for me for two reasons: 1) My Papa's not here, so it'll be strange not buying him his socks and aftershave, 2) I haven't got anything on my list.

My Mum keeps bugging me to tell her what I want for Christmas, and I genuinely couldn't care less. I don't need anything, I don't want anything. Do you know the best idea I could come up with?

A printer.

How sad is that?

It's a sign that I am in fact getting older, and taller than the Christmas tree (I mean, what's that all about?) so the magic has dwindled for me this year. I suppose it's got a lot to do with my Papa, but this year has just been one bombshell after another. But hey, I came out unscathed at the other end, didn't I? I may be a few friends lighter and a heart heavier but it's worth it in the long run. I'd have been even more hurt had I not cut ties with these people. I'm taking it as a blessing in disguise.

Bring on 2011!

'Mad Friday' and my part in it...

2011-12-17T09:15:00.000-08:00

This year's build-up to Christmas has been a tad... Over-dramatic. There's warnings from the police and emergency coaches being launched as part of some new scheme to stop Britain's vast number of fuds using the office Christmas parties as a time to get royally out of their tits. Which of course, can be fun. But when Harry from the technical department starts headbutting the table after every vodka shot, it's time to stick him in a cab home.

Yesterday was dubbed 'Mad Friday' in favor of such fools. I however, got satisfyingly drunk and managed (miraculously) not to make a complete tit of myself in front of all my bosses and their bosses bosses. I was tremendously proud of myself, seeing as last year I ended up sitting on my managers lap and trying not to be sick on him. (Yes, I was THAT girl last year.) I still get cringey flashbacks when I think about it.

But last night was quite genuinely one of the best nights out I've had in a long time. I even danced! In front of everyone! A rarity for me, even when I'm bawbaggedly drunk. It opened my eyes to how it all works; how my boss sees everything that goes on with the Bully, that she's criticized for almost every decision she makes and that when it comes down to it, we're quite good pals when all of the crap is cut out. We have a laugh and we've got the same sense of humour, which is admittedly, the thing I've got to have in common with a mate. We had a heart-to-heart and I got a few things off my mind that had been bugging me and she let me know she'd back me up all the way if it was something she could help with.

I'm still leaving after this week ahead, but after last night it'll make me sad to go; it reminded me of why I once loved working there. The people are fantastic (except for a few who have inferiority complexes), the pay is brilliant and I can easily work my way up and get to know a few managers etc. They do like me and they do think I work hard, which is a massive compliment, and it does matter when someone tells you so after being talked to like I have over the past few months.

In the end, it was a lovely finish to a disastrous year, and I'll keep the memories safely locked away for a while in case I find myself missing it.

The 'K' word...

2011-12-14T13:00:00.000-08:00

As you all know, this week got off to a pretty bad start for me. It was hard and horrible and just plain awful. But, since my mini-meltdown, I've felt tons better. I've been more relaxed so the hysterical crying may have been me relieving myself of some tension (a blessing in disguise?), so I've been calmer and less feisty yesterday and today.

But Monday wasn't only a bad day because of the Papa stuff; more of the bitching and backstabbery happened in work, and I caught them. I literally stood in full view of them whilst they rhymed off me being: lazy, 'does nothing' and basically called me some silly names that I haven't heard since primary school. It was nasty and just uncalled for, but that's what I work with 24/7 ladies and gents. It's gotten to me in the past and I'm pretty sure that's been the main reason for my personality shrinking in there; I'm not liked and it's obvious.

I've never been so blatantly disliked in all my life (well, except by a long-time friend who turned in to a bastard as soon as she hit high school). I think that's my problem; I think everyone is as accepting as I am, not that I'm bigging myself up here. I take the time to get to know people before I decide whether or not they're going to be worth my time and energy and by that I mean whether they're nice or bitchy and condescending. I don't think there's anything wrong with that.

A friend once told me: "You're too nice to them all the time when they're bastards to you. Why do you put up with it? You'd be better thought of if you were a bitch". Well, because... that's not me. As soon as someone crosses the boundary in to Bastardville I avoid spending time alone with them as much as possible, but that doesn't mean that I'll go out of my way to be nasty to them. I like going home at the end of a long day knowing I've been as nice as possible to the people I work with (unless they've offended me, which is pretty often, but that's just standing my ground) and not a complete cow. Because unlike some, I have a conscience and it will eat away at me if I think I've hurt someone's feelings.

Today was however, a little... different.

Karma reared it's pretty little head when, a job I was doing perfectly well, was grabbed off of me by a man in his early sixties. This man, of course, knows everything according to him. He then went on to completely muck the task up and almost cost the company a few grand's worth of drink that was on it's way out of the door as part of an order. That for me was justification that the universe is balanced, and what goes around most definitely comes around.

And that thought and that thought only, satisfies me no end.

Q: What's been your best/worst experience with Karma?

A bad day...

2011-12-12T14:47:00.000-08:00

I haven't really had any sort of emotional out let since my Papa's passing in early October, except of course, from this blog. I like to record my thoughts and look back on them every so often. Like the letter I wrote to my Papa; that went on to be read out at his funeral in front of all of the people who loved and adored him, and I was proud of that. That this blogging stuff was what brought those lovely words out of me and on to that piece of paper in front of the humorist who was reading it out.

It felt right, and it was my way of saying that I loved him. He always knew that anyway, but I just thought I'd remind him, just in case. There's not one day when he's never been in my thoughts, even when he was here. I always worried about him (sometimes to the point of taking panic attacks. I know, weird, right?), whether he was walking home at night or staying at his house all day on a Sunday and catching up with his pals. I was always thinking about him, about how he was and what time I'd get to see him again. He literally was my best friend; I know a lot of people say that about relatives, but trust me, I have never and will never have a better friend than my Papa. He knew everything about me, talked to me whenever I was having a bad day and was basically there for me when no one else was. My mates loved him and he was the funniest man on Earth according to my little sister. She adored him, too. I don't speak about him passing away, because in my own mind right now, I'm not strong enough to accept he's away. I'm just plodding on and awaiting the day where I break down in to a pile of uncontrollable mush.

Today was almost that day.

I was in work at about 10am and, obviously, there were Christmas songs being blasted out. Every station had something to do with the festive holidays going on, so we settled on Real Radio. My all time favourite Christmas song is Fairytale of New York by Kirsty MacColl & The Pouges (no, it wasn't one of his favourites). All of a sudden this wave of excruciating loss overcame me; I realised he wasn't going to be there with us on Christmas morning, Boxing Day, New Year's Eve or the bells. Like he always was. Like I was used to. He wouldn't be here this year because he's gone.

If I didn't know what it felt like for my heart to break, I certainly did today. My eyes welled up until I couldn't see. Usually if I start getting upset I distract myself and the feeling retreats back in to the depths of my mind. But it wasn't leaving today - it didn't budge for a good ten minutes. I was terrified that one of my co-workers would see me and make a big deal about it. I don't like crying in front of anyone, especially not people I dislike so much. Eventually it dissolved and I got myself back to normal, until I came home and told my Mum exactly how I'd felt.

I had a good 2hr cry in the kitchen and went through 3 packets of tissues. Yes, my eyes are puffed out of my head, but I feel a little better now. Someone else knows how I feel; I'm not the only one who misses him. I am however, the only one that knows what's going on in my head every day. Maybe I'll move on from all the thoughts, maybe I won't.

But I know, he'll always be with me. No matter what.

Tis the season...

2011-12-11T09:17:00.001-08:00

Last night was the first installment of the Christmas parties in work for me. This one was, ironically, the one I was looking most forward to. The people are so lovely and funny from the department I used to work in, and it's also where my Mum works, so it was a nice opportunity for us to have a night out together.

Unfortunately, it turned out to absolutely suck.

We arrived at 6pm to Mansion House on Glassford Street in Glasgow City Center (the old Tiger Tiger), only to go upstairs to the function suite named 'Groovy Wonderland', that the drinks were extortionate. I'm not saying that in the whingey 'I-begrudge-paying-that' kind of way, because I'm not a cheap date - I like a six quid cocktail just as much as the next girl (or guy that's too pissed to realise what he's drinking). But thirty pounds for a bottle of wine with no cheaper alternatives? Come on, get real. And also to top it off I'm still not over my cold, so by my second sip of 'complimentary' (i.e. not included in the £40.00 per person charge for the party) cava, I felt physically sick. It was my first night out in ages and I think it all just got a bit much; especially the disco ball in close proximity, that didn't help the room-spinneys.

So, all in all, a waste of money and ended up leaving early; so I've sealed my rep as a party-pooper. I didn't dance or drink much, and hardly anyone came over to speak to me (no wonder, must have looked so sad), but the only thing I wanted last night was to be home, in my PJ's and watching the X Fa ctor. PLUS (and yes, this is a big plus) there was absolutely no talent there. None.

Okay, there were a couple. But they were taken and/or from another company's party. That was a bit of a bummer; I guessed if I didn't really have a good night, I'd at least have something nice to look at/flirt with. But no. Last night just wasn't my night at all.

Maybe next Friday will get me in the Christmas party spirit?

Let us pray.

Family bonding, near-death experience and a sore ass...

2011-11-19T15:26:00.001-08:00

First off, none of the above topics are in any way related to one another. Just to clear that one up.

This week has been pretty damn good and exciting. I've gotten myself a little more together and I'm extremely proud of myself, so I decided to let my family take me out for a while. I introduced them to Nando's after my best friend did the same for me the week prior. They loved it and we've decided to go back for seconds in a few weeks' time. Spending the evening all together just proved to show me how lucky I am at this moment in time. Sure, I've got my worries and depressive thoughts for the majority of the day, but taking time out like that to be with loved ones and share a giggle (and get a bit drunk) makes life what it should be: happy and carefree. Okay, so I'm never going to be completely carefree, but I can be for a few hours on a Friday night.

To top-off my evening of blissful wine drinking and banterfulness, I came home and sat down on a broken chair. A chair which, when sat on, keels backwards and carries out it's sole purpose to snap your back/neck/spinal cord in two. Luckily, I was saved by... wait for it...

... a bed. A bed. I'd have been in need of some serious rehabilitation right now had it not been for that bed. Yes, I am a lucky little bastard. It was scary and I did get a major fright, but had it been someone else's near-death experience that I had witnessed, I'd have pissed myself laughing. For the position I ended up stuck in was not of a ladylike manner at all; I was spread-eagled, hands flung out to the side and frozen mid-panic and my arse wedged in the gap between the seat and armrest.

How lovely.

And now to the part that may have gotten you to read through the family bonding and arse-over-tit (almost) near-death accident; the sore ass.

On Thursday night I took part in one of the most embarrassing and, quite frankly, most lecherousness acts I've ever taken part in... Yes, ladies and gents, I went to see Breaking Dawn: Part 1. Not just BDP1, but all of the predeceasing films: Twilight, New Moon and Eclipse. Back to back. In a movie theater, surrounded by sex-starved middle-aged single/married mothers, grannies, aunties... you name it.

Screaming, yelping, wolf-whistling (puntastic) and generally just being perverts. If this were a film about women taking their tops off and doing half of the things Taylor Lautner does on screen, there would be an uproar. Men gathering in a movie theater to watch half-naked women running topless in the rain for 10hrs+. They'd end up on some sort of register. Still though, I enjoyed it for the most part. Except for the fact my arse kept falling asleep. It's still killing me, and don't even ask me what happened when I went a run with the dog this afternoon.

I screamed in pain. Glad there was no one about!

Ever feel like giving up on all of your friendships?

2011-11-12T07:40:00.001-08:00

Friday ramblings.

2011-11-11T14:19:00.001-08:00

Just recently my life has taken a sort of, well, U-turn. My co-workers are being less hostile and actually making an effort to get along with each other (albeit for two weeks, I'll not get too excited), I've took care of some money issues and I've been speaking to a few managers in work about possibly coming to work for them next year.

Oh, and I've not given a second thought to any "friend" debacles; I just simply don't care anymore. Some have deleted me from Facebook, haven't text in weeks/months and some I just haven't spoken to since my birthday. And d'you know what? I couldn't care less. In fact, the lack of their presence has given me the chance to reevaluate what's good in my life and what's toxic; and it's turned out to be them that were toxic. Who'da thought?

I'm a lot more comfortable with myself and who I actually want in my life - the people who want to see me will make the effort and vice-versa. That's what friendship is in my books; not bitchy unfriending on social networking sites, ignoring texts/calls or being arrogant enough to think you can just suddenly get in contact after months upon months of not speaking and everything will have magically mended. It doesn't work that way, not for me anyway.

On to the good bits! This weekend is dedicated to family time and catching up with some best mates; albeit for the reason of discussing a little trip to Dublin next June for a certain Croker gig. I'm treating my little sister, as she got a praising letter sent to the house about her behaviour and conciseness approach to her work in class and her homework; she's a little star!

A good little weekend ahead, I say.