GOOD MORNING....!

When a person thinks of Vietnam they see napalm, tanks, Robin Williams or Martin Sheen. War, Americans, boundaries and My Lai.

I visited Vietnam two years ago, in the summer of my 18th year. I, too, wondered, when my dad booked this holiday, what i would find. Whether i would find the remnants of a war, where people were wary to glance around in case it invited dissent; with a history of poverty and war and a communist government, i could hardly blame them. But when i found myself in the midst of Ho Chi Minh city, surrounded by locals i was wondrously surprised.

Never in all my life had i been proved so wrong! The Vietnamese people are the happiest people i've ever met - which is very odd to western culture i suppose, who coincide money with happiness. Money is the one thing not many Vietnamese people have, but if smiles were legal tender they'd be the richest people in the world.

And i wasn't entirely wrong. There are, of course, museums recording the various wars, monuments such as the Cu Chi tunnels that still remain to make sure the injustices are never forgotten. Shrines to fallen soldiers, and places where veterans and victims of agent orange or napalm chemicals can make an honest living without being exploited or overstretched. The thing is, the Vietnamese are proud people. They were too proud to ask for help in every war they won or lost and are too proud now to beg despite they pittance they each earn. (a bellboy in a 5 star hotel averages a salary of $5 a month, as we were told). They never beg - what they DO do is make items or find items to sell. Which is, to me, amazing.

The point i have to make here is that, although i enjoyed my time in Vietnam and i met many lovely people, live does carry on and i only ever occasionally gave it any thought - sometimes i look back at pictures and reminisce. I thought, with it being an upcoming tourist attraction, my presence in Vietnam would hardly be remembered by anyone. Though i was complimented and met some wonderful people. Again, i was very wrong.

In the later part of our holiday, we visited Ha Long bay - a world heritage site and the nicest aby ive ever seen. We were given a private boat with a full crew who fed us and showed us their home. One boy didn't speak much English, but he smiled lots and he really tried. So i gave him my email, and told him that he could practise his English by writing to me. He smiled some more and put the piece of paper in his pocket.

I thought nothing of it - time has gone by, no emails came. I assumed that another tourist would come by and show the same kindness, and i was very, very wrong. Two weeks ago, i received an email asking if i remembered him. His name was Hoa - of course, i replied. He sent this back:

hello:lauren !
I am fine .
How are you ?
I am very happy to receive your message. some day you should not just through the network.from the day you put flooded Halong Bay, I always remember to you and your family.I feel very happy family. your parents are understanding, friendly and kind.you and your family are in my heartyour pictures I feel like yesterday.How are you?you learn song yet?Health is not your parents?talk to you soon.!
hoa!

How lovely is a little bit of an understatement! I never imagined that my family and i could have such an effect on someone for simply being kind and polite, but apparently we did. It really does go to show that kindness pays off. (Of course, i also find his English adorable.Not quite there yet but its far better than my Vietnamese!)

This is the best Christmas present ever.

Losing My Religion

I don't want to dwell too much on this kind of blog lest i be seen as emo or something. But, well, first and foremost, this blog was created as my own personal diary and this is where i offload all my emotions, from every part of the spectrum.

Im unhappy, right now, and most of it stems from money troubles. I used to consider myself as being above the tedium of money, and schedules, and the things that keep businessmen and the rich grumpy. The bank keep taking my money and i don't have enough left to live until January. Although its true i get paid at the end of each month, even with said wage i don't know how I'm going to manage. Its so worrying that i barely sleep any more.

Theres collateral damage to this too. Because i barely sleep, I'm constantly grumpy. I can't take a joke any more, i barely laugh, i snap at the people closest to me and my frown lines are deeper than ever. I feel like I'm drifting away from the people that mean the world to me, and I'm pushing myself out of the social circle i used to take great joy in being a part of. All I ever do is complain. I take offense to the slightest suggestin even when i know it's ludicrous. I used to look at people who couldn't crack a smile and think "Christ, lighten up." I'm now telling this to myself every day.

I've turned into my own worst nightmare.

And theres really no excuse for it, either. I do have good friends and i know i do, even though i don't see them nearly enough (Brinners and Kayleigh, i miss you both way too much. =/ ) I have a wonderful family (And I'm homesick more now than ever) and a boyfriend i don't deserve (Mi Querido, I'm sorry i snap so much). It is the support of all these people that has kept me cemented to my studies here in Swansea and if it weren't for them i doubt I'd have the strength to get through this as i have. I know for a fact that, if i weren't so in love as I am right now, I'd have left long ago and gone home to get a job. Doing what, I'm really not sure.

And I am in a happy place, when I forget how screwed over I am, and how hard life is. I look at my family and I see them struggle too, and wish I could help, and that if anything, makes me feel even worse. I'm so stuck its painful. It's hard and i wish it were far easier than it is. I resent the people in my life who go to daddy to bail them out - because they'll never appreciate just how lucky they are, and they'll never know how to truly take care of themselves. But, then again, they'll never know the same worry, and for that i feel happy for them.

I'm sure I'll be fine, soon. Trying to sort out my life IS hard, but it's a learning experience. I'm doing the very best i can to make it better for myself, and for others. To my friends that read this, bear with me and i promise I'll be laughing again soon. To my family, i can't wait to be home so i can remember myself.

And to Mi Querido, Thank You - Being around you makes me remember how truly lucky i am, despite my many vices. I love you.

The Art of Doing As You Please

I'm beginning to wonder why on earth i've never read more of Oscar Wilde's publishings. The gist of this is, that last night i went to the cinema to watch the new adaptation of The Picture of Dorian Gray and LOVED it.

For those of you who don't know the story, i'll summarise now. Dorian Gray begins as a young, impressionable man, moving to London to claim his Grandfather's inheritance. He is wealthy, he is young and he is beautiful. So beautiful, he is brefriended by the artist Basil Hallward, who paints a portrait of him, claiming it to be his best work. After also befriending the Lord Harry Wotton, who preaches a life of hedonism and decadence, Dorian falls into a life of such indulgence. Wotton asks him if he would barter his soul to remain young and handsome. Dorian replies that he would, and so the story unfolds - the young man remains the same for 18 years, while the painting of him changes and ages, becoming uglier and older with each sin he commits. In the end... well, on second thought, i won't spoil it should you wish to read/watch it.

The relevance of this story is that it's what made me think. The simple truth of it is, we are ALL hedonistic, to an extent. Hedonism is the philosophical idea that pleasure or happiness is the highest good. The act of devoting oneself to seeking out those pleasures as a way of LIVING. There are names throughout history of these deviants who made it their lifestyle; John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester, King Solomon (apparently), half of Rome's emporors... These are people who spent their life copulating, smoking, drinking, and possibly nothing else. And yet they're not THAT much more shameless than us as a modern society.

Oscar Wilde's book is supposed to be one of the last books of the Aesthetic age - The british age in the 18th and 19th century that coincided with the french Decadent period. It was a time much like the renaissance, when morals, ethics and lifestyles were being reconsidered. Although it is never directly mentioned, Wilde experiments and makes references to homoeroticism amongst many other indulgences people were beginning to reconsider at the time. If you like, the aesthetic age was the preset for the liberal society we live in today.

Which is where our own hedonistic nature comes in. We, as human beings, will take what we want, one way or another. For the younger, we will seek to own material object by any means. I myself have begged my parents for several things, all perceived to be 'the best'. For those a little older it is the pursuit of a man, or a woman, by means of chasing, courting, marrying, as well as getting the best job, the best car, the best home, the best dog. We are never satiated, never satisfied with what we have already. There is always something out there pushing us to try for better. As a society, we want the BEST, the greatest, the most pleasurable, all in aid of making our lives more pleasurable to live.

A friend of mine suggested that hedonism is entirely selfish and that it is not worth pursuing. Which, to an extent, i agree with. But without the hedonistic streak within us, we may not survive. It boils down to the basic carnal instincts; the need to eat, drink, sleep, multiply. The hedonist justification is that pleasure and pain are the simplest indicators of what is good for you, and what is bad for you - those things that feel good MUST be good for you. The things that hurt can't be of any use at all, other than warning you to avoid it.

Again, i agree to an extent. But pain can teach us many things and pleasure isn't always a good thing. Look at the heroin addicts and the self-harmers of society. How does a hedonist justify those sort of acts?

It comes back to Dorian Gray's story. He indulged in pleasure, and decadence, and the very best high society could offer. It froze his age, but, as his portrait showed, rot his very soul until he was hideous. Basically, hedonism, if taken too seriously, is NOT good for you, or for society.

But of course, if your partner pleases you, and it pleases them, you probably shouldn't say no. ;)

On another note, i'd LOVE to see how my soul would fare on canvas...

For Shame!

Ok, so, having had yet another person point out my blog to me, i felt a bit mean because i havent written one since July when i was really pissed off about work stuff. Oopsie!

So, id like to formally apologise to any of you who follow my posts, and carry on with another post, about... well, nothing in particular.

Summer has been a hoot! After working god knows how many hours a week up until the end of August, i ended up in the shallow blue waters of the meditteranean, soaking up sun and discovering my future profession: Marine Archaeology. SCUBA diving for shipwrecks and the like. You know it makes sense! Living abroad, putting my degree to good use, seeing some gorgeous creatures and environments along the way. Yeah. Now i just gotta get the motivation to finish a SCUBA course at uni. (they have one, it was the first ad i saw yesterday, and it made me happy.)

Pretty much as soon as i got back into the county i was down south for my boyfriend's brothers wedding (thats REALLY hard to say, i kept missing the 'brother' part in explanations, it worried a few people) and that was AMAZING. It was also the first time i met his family. I think they liked me. I hope so, at least. His brother and new sister-in-law are lovely! Right in the middle of their wedding day they presented Simon and i with a very nice bottle of white chocolate liqueur for helping out. Which... well, im not really used to thank you presents, you help out where you can and thats all. But it was really nice to get that. Can't say i don't envy them though... Florida for 3 weeks.... fuh. -.-

So now i'm back at uni, settling in Nicely. New timetable is a bitch, they're all MORNING lectures. God knows what i'm gonna do here. Looks like i'm gonna have to grin and bear it i suppose. This year is achievement year anyway. By Christmas i'll have settled nicely into writing for the uni newspaper, plus being secretary for RAG (Raise And Give) Society, and the occasional dive. Lets hope, eh?

Anyway, like i said, this blog isn't about much. This was just to let you know im still alive and that ill be writing much more from now on. And i MEAN it this time!

NOT on My Watch...

Whoever said "Sticks and stones will break my bones, but names will never hurt me" is a complete fool. I've never known anything hurt more than a word or a name spat in venom.

This blog isn't about me, per se, although i have seen my fair share of plain and simple bullying, which is exactly why i'm the way i am today, and i'd like to say this: i will NEVER stand by and watch it happen to another person.

This has all come about because of my place of work (yes, i realise that internet and employment NEVER mix but to be honest, i think my boss is far too up his own sphincter to take interest in what other people do outside of his restaurant) and the people in it. Basically, aside from my boss, i am the oldest waitress - as a result i seem to have fallen into a place of confidence amongst the younger staff who are too intimidated by my boss to talk to him personally. One girl in particular is fifteen, and is experiencing a lot of trouble with one of the chefs. In short, he's making her work life a misery.

She has a number of options open to her. One is to stand up for herself. Another is to leave. Well, shes tried the first and it lands her in trouble. The second isn't an option for many reasons, and the main conclusion is, why should she have to?

She shouldn't, is the answer, quite simply because this sort of thing SHOULDN'T be happening in a place of work. Something should be done and the only reason nothing is being done, is because nobody dare stand up to my boss, or to the bullying chef..

Well, i dare.

The majority of my family tell me that i shouldn't get involved, that my own job will suffer, that i may be sacked, etc etc. To be perfectly honest, id be able to live with myself far easier if i got sacked for doing what was right, rather than getting paid to keep my trap shut. I sure as hell will NOT do it. As far as i'm aware, the rules are on my side. And the side of the people im looking out for.

Seriously though, what kind of employee lets his staff bully each other?!

GRRRR!

Fixed?

Alright, as per request by Katie Parker (BARRYYYYYYY!) This post is to be about addiction.

It occurred to me, while i was trying to think of what to write, that everyone is addicted to something. We, as a race, do not like the word 'addiction' because, nt only is it stigmatised as being used to describe bad addictions, such as drugs and the like, it also insinuates an apparent giving over of control. We can't HELP being addicted to something, and that takes away our independence. Its a big no-no to some people.

But addiction isn't necessarily a bad thing. Sure, its usually associated with drugs, alcohol and gambling and the like. But in this its not the addiction thats the problem, its the object of the addiction no? these things, even in moderation, are a very sharp knife-edge to be walking on.

So when good things come along and we find ourself unable to be away from them, what do we do then? we get scared because weve lost control of our senses in a way. the mind tells you that addiction is bad, so you shy away from any behaviour that shows the tell-tale signs. But sometimes you become addicted to things without even knowing it. Love, if you like. You become addicted to a person. You spend all your time with them and can't bear to be apart from them for long. is that not a sort of addiction? What about music? You turn your radio on because you cant bear the silence. What would happen if your radio broke? would you go mad? What about all the things that, if you think about it, you wouldnt dare be without?

Its almost, in a way, the whole "if you were trapped on a desert island" thing. If you could find a way to wrangle your fate you would take as much with you as possible because you are dependant on the things around you that provide you with some form of comfort. thats what addiction is; its becoming dependant on something that, in your own opinion, enhances your lifestyle. So addiction can't really wrong, per se.

In the meantime, heres a list of things i'm addicted to:

- music
- Chocolate
- wotsits (cheesy puffs for the international readers :3)

- facebook (who isnt?)

- my friends. i get withdrawal symptoms being on my own!

What are you addicted to? what could you not live without, if push came to shove? Hmmm.

Habere, Deus

This week has been purely Surreal. I've said that a lot this week but for those who know the tale will agree with it, and once you yourself have read it, you'll understand it.

My nana has suffered with Emphysema for a long time now. She collapsed in 2006, and was given an oxygen tank and a mask, which she has to wear 15 hours a day to be comfortable.

Last week, things got the better of her and she admitted herself to hospital for respite. Sunday we visited her and she seemed to be doing better.

Monday morning, her birthday, no less, we got a call. THE call that you dread. "You'd better come to hospital as soon as possible." We all told our bosses where we were going, and headed to hospital as fast as possible. After getting calls, her 4 children and 5 grandchildren, along with partners, rushed to the hospital. And she was in a very bad way... She had a huge mask strapped to her face, and she just looked so frail. Frail isnt something my nana is. Shes the most head-stubborn woman i've ever met. But still, there she lay, literally knocking at heavens door.

By Tuesday afternoon, every single one of us had accepted the inevitable. Consultants had told us not to hope. There was no way she could recover. My nana, in her consciousness, tried to school us, comfort us. My nana to a tee - she was comforting us. She told us she was ready to be with the family that had already passed.

And then, by Tuesday evening she had picked up. Her heart rate had slowed from abnormal to somewhat normal. Her breath capacity had improved by a third - a figure we hadn't seen for months, even when she was at home.

Wednesday morning, the doctors announbced that my nana was well enough to come home - said through splutters of disbelief. Its a miracle, they said. "We can't understand how she's still alive. There is no medical reason for her recovery."

Too bloody right it's a miracle!

I remembered then, what i'd said as watched her struggling in-between worlds. God, i haven't ever asked for much, and never for myself. But my family aren't ready for life without my nana. My mum still needs her mum. If you can save her, i promise i'll listen to you more. ill go to church, i'll do anything.

The prospect of getting up early on a sunday morning has never looked so optimistic. I have someone to thank, and i made a promise. Someone has saved my nana, and i'll keep to my word.

Shes coming home today, and i couldn't be more thankful. And even through the preparing for undescribable grief, i was amazed (as were the doctors) by my family. Thirteen of us were in one room to support my nana within 5 hours. (some of us live further away than others). The doctors suggested that the overwhelming support we all provided had something to do with her recovery. The hospital said they haven't ever seen that level of dedication. Well, why shouldnt we be here? we love our family, were here when something goes wrong.

What else astounded me was my own strength. I kept level headed around my family. My worst moment was when i was trying to sleep the first night and all i could see was my nana with a horrible mask on her face, looking the frailest id ever seen her, and, if im honest, not looking remotely like herself at all. it was horrifying to think that she was in as much pain as the vision looked like it was giving her.

A message for smokers: Ive never been a militant 'dont smoke' person. To tell the truth i've had one or two myself when ive been drunk. But if not for yourself, for the sake of your family, quit. Don't ever let them see you in a hospital bed, suffocating on your own lungs. Its too horrifying to watch someone you love so unconditionally go through that level of pain.

For now, though, im grateful for my life. My nana has been given back her life and her health. For now, at least. I'm also very privileged to have a very nice guy helping me through all this. Hes a gem, despite a few glitches back in the past.

New day, new outlook, new life.

Thank you, God.

Bring me my chariot of fire!

This is probably going to be the oddest thing i've ever said and its going to take a looooooong blog to clarify what i mean by this. but...

Isn't religion incredible?!

The main bulk of this - i am afraid for those of different religions reading this - is going to be about western religion, predominantly Catholicism, because its the one that has evoked my current wonder. Its not that i favour Catholicism... far from it actually, because i am a polytheist. And, really, this is more to do with... the Renaissance than it is to do with religion itself, but of course, the two are heavily connected.

So heres the deal. I went to see Angels and Demons this week. And... well, im amazed, truly, at Dan Brown's skill (shock horror here, but a writer, who hasn't read any of his books... thats a regrettable decision im going to change as soon as i can!) and i've realised, that even though i hate the idea of hypocrisy that is created by Catholicism sometimes, i LOVE the art and the thought surrounding it, and the books.

I found it fascinating to see how the fictional character Robert Langdon found his way to a place so theoretical and buried in myth and hearsay, simply by following works of art. And, i'm willing to bet that these were not the intentions of the artists mentioned... Raphael Santi, Michaelangelo Simoni, Giovanni Bernini... it was incredible to see how they fit and how such a divine and intense plot was formed around them.

But then the art alone is something to be marveled at. Ive always thought that i would visit Rome for it's Pagan ruins; the pantheon and the colusseum. Survivors of the ancient world. Never, in my wildest imagination, did i think that Rome would hold even better history after that time.

Although the History of Catholicism is bloody (ive heard somewhere that out of the history of Popes, 230 have died in violent cases) it seems to carry with it a colourful and more positive light. one of art and thought... although these two have laid in conflict, often they work together.

Such famous characters as Galileo and Descartes, Ficino, Da Vinci... masters of thought and of modern thinking. Pioneers of their time... Strangely, names we know but cannot offer much more about what they did than a quote or "that painting he did, the vit.. something" (the Vitruvian Man is what i was going for there) but they have shaped so much of our time, im glad that such a fictional masterpiece has been published to give them due credit.

The whole ado, i suppose, also, has redeemed my opinion of the Catholic Church. Although there are some things i disagree with (rules that once worked, that are now outdated; but maybe such is the way that catholicism is what it is, and is thus followed by millions of people worldwide) it has a new light for me. Ive always been fascinated with the stereotypes.... confession, mass, the latin... catholicism has always seemed to me to be a more educated and age-old religion (allbeit a biased one). The films based on the books by Dan Brown, have made me much more intrigued about papal conclave and the like. i like, that there is so much meaning in things we label simple, and how such simple things can be interpreted and woven into these amazing tales. I think its safe to say, i love the decorations of Catholicism. Whether id go as far as to say i agree with the teachings themselves... is a very different story.

There was a part of the film where i had to stop and think, though. Exactly what do i not agree with here? the principle? i think its the negative effect it has on people, to create people into mindless sheep who believe that they need to be led to live when this isnt necessarily so. This, i suppose, is why the church was so offended by the idea of science during the renaissance - science proved that people could choose for themselves. But - and this is coming from a woman with much less faith than knowledge - science is no substitute for knowing you have somebody looking out for you, and this was more or less proved to me whern i heard this quote:

"My church?! My Church comforts the sick and the hungry, comforts the dying. What does your church do?" (Commander Richter)

And its true! Credit to the church, although i don't follow it, many do, and if it gives them comfort, well then, good for them. With such power and majesty surrounding it, i'd happily follow if i had such ardent faith.

On a separate note, kudos to Hans Zimmer, for once again creating a musical score that has left me breathless. Hans Zimmer has composed the musical score for many brilliant and favourite films including The Lion King, Pirates of the Caribbean, Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron and Gladiator. Having done the score for both Dan Brown - based films, i think i now worship the man. I urge everyone to listen to the song Chevaliers de Sangreal - Those who have seen The Da Vinci Code may remember it well.

"The Holy grail, 'neath ancient Rosalyn waits..

Adorned in Master's loving arms, she lies.

The blade and chalice, guarding, are her gates,

She rests, at last, beneath starry skies."

ARGH! I BLOODY LOVE THIS STUFF! :D

I am DEFINITELY scared of Becky Taylor.*

Alright, so, i know i haven't blogged in a while so i thought, amidst my busy schedule of doing... well, nothing, i'd do SOMETHING.

I've been home in Bridlington for the past five weeks, working and entertaining friends and family. I managed to get those diabolical essays out of the way and everything, just in time to come home and do more work. At least the work i was doing this easter was brainless.

To be perfectly honest, i might have left this blog a lot longer, even though ive been reminding myself to write for aaaaaages - frankly, my motivation levels are akin to the braincells of a chav, i.e. next to none. But then, the most random event occured and i just had to, to process this incident in my head.

People really surprise me sometimes. The first odd thing that happened this week is my ex, talking to me. Without (i assume) an ulterior motive - very strange indeed. I'm... i wouldn't say happy because im still slightly suspicious, but id like to think its the start of something civil.

The second, and even stranger occurence is an old schoolmate getting in touch with me to tell me to write more.

I'm used to being suspicious of people. But i was woken up by a text the other morning by a girl i used to go to school with. Roxanne and i were in a few lessons together, and have a few marital family connections. At school, i assumed, as i assumed with most people that i wouldn't have much influence or really even be liked. By several people, in fact.

This text confused me (as many things do at 6.30am) and i spent a good while making sure i wasn't dreaming. (at this point that morning i was also having an argument with the water by my bed. No alcohol involved but i didnt remember getting it. CONFOOOOOJUN!) i dont think i can really get across how nice it was to have someone who i didn't think would still be interested in what im currently doing, to text me asking me to write more. For one it was nice to know that a few people in my year can actually read (hehe, only joking!) and more so, it was nice to know that i'm not just writing pointlessly, someone is getting joy from this - which is why i started it in the first place. Roxanne, your story is on it's way. I've started writing it and i'll get it to you ASAP!

On a completely random note:

- I completely fancy Barack Obama and Marco Pierre White.

- Im STILL not over my twilight saga obsession.

- Im jived to be going back to Swansea

- I worked 40 hours last week and can't wait for a lie in

- I am DEFINITELY scared of Becky Taylor. (*side note, this may only make sense to those living in the UK.)

Eye of the Storm

ARGH. I HATE essays. i've just spent the past week banging my head against a brick wall (well, not literally although im sure it wouldnt have been as painful) over this essay. Socrates, oratory, Gorgias, persuasion, conviction, blah, blah, blah.

WHAAAAAAT? i think i wrote the 2000 word essay in a trance, where in my subconscious i understood actual Greek. I could swear thats what my book was written in.

And i finished it, JUST in time to fret about the next one due Wednesday, which is to evaluate a Roman city. *cries*

i HATE ESSAYS! hate hate hate! go read Gorgias and you'll see why!

Hellspawn?

Right, having a hard time of it recently. Essay due on the 11th on a subject im not properly enrolled for (technicians wont sort it out quick enough) and i dont have an actual working computer at home.

This. Makes. Me. ANGRY.

I'm not talking the hulk, im talking complete monster sent from the depths of hell crabby. I'm properly driving Brinners and Kayleigh nuts with my arsy ways but i dont give a rats ass this week, im in full strop mode. Oh, having no money doesnt help either... =/

On the other hand, there are some things going well. To mention them precisely would be a taboo of a jinx and all, so im not going to say anything right now but i have hope.

Picking up my tarot cards again, trying to learn them a bit more. the more i learn though, the more i get confused. such contradictory meanings. Maybe its just a reflection of some wise epiphany; LIFE itself is unpredictable. It cannot BE predicted. its all 'ifs' and 'mights'.

As requested by Miss John, a word or two on the effects of alcohol. (Purely fiction of course ;])

I was first aware of my own existence that morning when i felt a dull pain in my earlobe. I stirred slightly, confused. It didn't take long for me to realise what was causing my discomfort - my best pair of earrings, pressed against my neck so that when i finally reached up to take them out i could feel the marks they'd left behind. This movement created a new problem - i was suddenly very aware of the fact that i seemed to have fallen alseep on a merry-go-round. I opened my eyes slowly to find i was staring at a ceiling. A still ceiling. Oh God, i thought, that meant i was still drunk. I tried to sit up slowly, looking around the room. My desk had moved. Not just a little bit, either - it had traveled from its place at my window, to a new place a foot away from the door. I shook my head, instantly regretting the movement when it brought a fresh wave of nausea to the surface. Clapping a hand over my mouth, i scrambled my way out of the bed, yanking the door open and flying across the hall to the toilet.

Some minutes later, eyes watering and my breath tasting like something described only in tales of terrible sea-monsters, i shuffled my way back into my room, trying to piece together the fragments of memory i could remember from the previous night. I had left the club at 3am, i knew that much. Someone had dropped me in a taxi, paid it and sent me home. With a lurch of unease, i checked my phone. Remembering horror stories about ex-texting and the likes. Although i had no ex to text in such a way, i still had family and friends that would laugh, cry or be plain horrified by the drunken stupor i must have slipped into.

5 messages. Crap. With a sigh of relief, i found that most of them had been "where are you" messages that had gotten lost, along with my signal, on the dancefloor. The last, though, confused me.
"Who was that guy? hope you got home ok, text me when you get this." My best friend, ever vigiliant, more like a mother, had text me, at 4am, making sure i was ok. But what guy did she mean?

I was scared by this point. My brain continued to try and make connections between the sparse flashbacks that flickered through my mind every so often, but nothing really fit. Somehow, i had lost a whole two hours of my evening...

Mew?

Ive just totally realised that recently, i only post a blog when im angry or upset at life, and thats generally a bit too emo. so, this week, i give you...

RAINBOWS
BUTTERFLIES
AND BUNNIES (Oh my!)

Broadcasting this message from my place of work, Woody's bar. Much ado about nothing really, its a lovely little bar with lovely little (and several tall) people. But ive spent the day cleaning and hanging with my best buds. Oh, great, i can feel it coming up like vomit, this is gonna be a dedication... Screw it, i don't mind this. I'm feeling all lovey-dovey. :D

Brinners. The very word speaks for itself. No - hehe. We have some crazy times, mainly consisting over laughing about fighting hamsters, pulling funny faces, and shes even laughing Right. Now.

Kayleigh. Shes my substitute mother, i can always count on her to put her in my place when i fall out of it. :D

Liam Stacey ACTUALLY gives love a bad name. (apparently.)

Becky "Wawiwow" (so named because of an awkward week with an inflamed tongue) is my rock buddy. we RAWK. \m/ ("Yeah we do!")

Mark, i can't leave him out. He makes life more random. Good times. TRUMPETS!

So, while this blog holds no intellctual water WHATSOEVER, its good, once in a while, just to be silly and allow your friends to sort life out for you. I'm in a GOOD mood today, and its all ok.

"One of the oldest Human needs is having someone to wonder where you are when you dont come home at night."

Box Full of Razors

Imagine that, for a second. Your current affairs, are a box full of razors, and you have to keep digging your hand in.

Gross. Now i'm all cut up and bleeding everywhere.

See the thing is, things happen throughout the course of your life that piss you off, and the more you wish you could try stopping their rampage of piss-you-off-ness, they just KEEP growing until other people become involved, and you snap.

So my ex hates me. Fair enough. He communicates this idea by ignoring me.. in a way that ensures i notice. The main issue here is, we both work in the same place (a BIG mistake if ever i saw one, but we weren't working together when we got together) and we both share lots of mutual friends. Which means hes always in my face with his 'i hate you so much im ignoring you so HA' attitude. I personally would be quite happy to talk to him again and be civil. I broke up with him for all the bad qualities he flaunts around, but it doesnt mean i dont CARE any more.

Which brings me to my next point. His new girlfriend. She is.. in a word, AMAZING. I didn't talk to her so much in the beginning - mostly because i thought if my ex had his way she'd hate me too, but no. We get along rather well (much to his chagrin i expect) and this is most circumstances would be a good thing... it was until last night.

The bar i work at is a 10 minute drive from the vicinity of both my house, my ex's and his new lass. Last night it was raining heavily so i was getting a taxi, with my friend, we were gonna split the fare... yeah. My ex offers my friend a ride, but not me. Cue ugly row in which ex's lass argues with him and forces him to offer me a ride too. which he doesn't he storms off, pissed off at her, muttering over his shoulder 'Tell em to come down then' (because he can hardly bring himself to say my name) and she ends up in tears, apologising to ME.

This deserves a big ol' DOUBLE YEW TEE EFF. This pissed me off to no end. Yes, we have a large riff between us, my ex and i, regretfully. But who in the hell does he think he is, that he would rather row with his new girlfriend than be civil for a matter of minutes?! I'm thinking i cut loose at the right time, and i feel so sorry for her because shes a lovely girl, and its not her fault, and its wrong of him to get pissy at her. If he wants to get pissy at anyone, he can come to me.

If he could just swallow his pride for once... Boys will be boys though, right?