Spring

So, spring is officially here, the clocks have gone forward - time marches on.

I haven't blogged for a while, I've got a few drafts saved but nothing publishable and I have my reasons for that - most of them are music links mixed in with a couple of bucket list thoughts and one was a full on, I'm off my tits on morphine and frankly don't give a flying fuck rant - about people using status updates to say how they are or to read up on how someone is - instead of actually pausing to call and ask or say.

Life has been rather chaotic of late, my social life now consists of more medical people and hospital appointments than my little diary can handle, my body has never been so in demand and my brain has become a little bit frazzled with it all. To unwind - I've been youtubing my ass off but there is also a purpose to it.

While putting my 'house in order' it struck me that scribbled notes and photographs simply aren't enough to keep memories alive and so I'm now on a mission to compile an audiable history. I want my boys to hear the music we used to slow dance to at 3am when they were colicky, remember the songs we used to sing along loudly to in the car and listen to the tunes that marked lifes occasions and with the help of a little bit of software and a microphone, I'm adding my own unique touch to some of those.

Some may consider it a rather morbid thing to be doing, but for now it's giving me a direction - some things can't be put off until the magical 'tomorrow' and so that is where I've been of late, in bed with the laptop - giving the speakers a thorough spring clean.










And to one of my dearest friends, for all of your support and time ... this is for you, thank you xx

Sunshine

It's another gloriously beautiful spring morning, even the daffodils look a more intense shade of yellow today.

For so many years now, the sight of that flower has filled me with a deep sadness, most people have carnations or lillies at funerals - my friends and family however, seem to have a thing for the daffodil.

March through to May have so many anniversaries to acknowledge, my mother and I paused for a while during a conversation the other day, in recognition of daffodil season and then we discussed the sobering fact that we're running out of people to loose. I've yet to decide if it's better to know its coming or be woken up in the middle of the night by the phone ringing, this year - this year there are two 'candidates' already lined up and then yesterday came a panicked phone call and a night of waiting. Thankfully everything was ok but I'm beginning to think that I should hibernate until June.

This year however, I'm also more aware of my own mortality. Everything around me is more intense, more amplified and as I've walked past those daffs each day, watching them grow until a few days ago when they opened up to blow their perfectly formed trumpets, I've been consciously planning, organising and making mental notes of things in my life I need to put in order.

I have, what some call a twisted perception of death. I feel mourning the loss of someone to be a totally selfish moment in time - the body is a mere receptacle, a host for a soul rather than the complete person and yes it's painful when someone dies, but that grief strikes me as bitter resentment for the loss of a physical representation of a person rather than for their spirit and while I don't for one moment believe there is a right or wrong way to let go of a loved one, for me personally - death is never an end.

That said, while planning my own 'exit', I'm incredibly aware that every person manages their grief in a different way and it is not my place to impose my own beliefs on those around me - but it's making for some interesting decision making.
I find funeral protocol absurd - everyone has to wear black and be sad? what is that about? we celebrate birth, why shouldn't we celebrate death? There is a time and place for everything, but at my own funeral I don't want sombre, I don't want black and I don't want silence. I want my ashes packed in to a series of fireworks and to go out with one final fucking good bang.

Ok, so the sudden demise of someone is a massive shock - but surely it shouldn't take death to bring forth an outpouring of emotion, we're all guilty of taking people for granted to a certain level, we're all a bit frightened of dying, put what is the one absolute guaranteed moment in our lives to the back of our mind and hope to just fall asleep in our bed, having danced the previous day away partying on our 99th birthday - but we are all going to die at some point, I don't understand why it takes for someones heart to stop for those that care to say out loud the things they should be saying while that heart still beats.

I am truly blessed in my life, it's taken a while to realise it - but even with the crappy health issues and my odd emo moments, I actually have it all. I like me, I'm perfectly content and happy with who I am (even the big feet), I have, not only the most insanely funny friends and family around me but also, 3 boys who are growing up to be amazing young men with their own strength and integrity that leaves me breathless, I'm loved and love in return, passionately, unreservedly and completely. I don't need for anything and I have no regrets.

So when my time comes, do not stand by a wooden box and weep for the body encased within - I am not there, that is not me. Do not grieve for a life complete or mourn the loss of time to say all of those unspoken things. I'm still here, just no longer in direct line of sight and you don't have to whisper words of goodbye because I'm being all ethereal in your secret drawers and haven't left your life.

unreal to me

Everybody is looking
for the latest trend to
mold themselves on...

 

*inserts some humour*

found these whilst lurking on a site I use

and then I found this, which made me do lots of *gigglesnorts*

The written word

Well, Monday morning has rolled around again - that said, I could say its really Wednesday and with the help of a few words and a script embedded in a page, for a couple of seconds maybe, you'd believe me, why? because the written word is more powerful than any weapon. That's the ugly downside to the internet, a few typed words and lives can change in a heartbeat.

Take, for example, a recent blog post of mine, in which I described myself as a cunt - am I really that cruel? truth is, yes but not in the way I described. Did I really mass mailbomb a group of people? no I didn't - but the power of suggestion using words made even the people who really do know the person typing this stop and think.

In the age of social networking and multi media lifestyles, it's all very well checking and rechecking privacy settings, of taking care to protect yourself from viruses, malware and the odd psycho to feel secure behind your firewall when you log on each day - but have you ever stopped to consider if you're safe from your own mind - there isn't an anti bullshit download for that.

Blogs, status updates, emails, messenger programmes - we all use them, we all sit happily chatting away to people we will never meet but can we really be sure we trust them with our innermost parts? truth is - no, we can't and yet we carry on regardless, which is all fine and dandy if we have nothing to hide but can you really be sure that the person you're talking to is who they say they are?
You can't - and it always makes me roar when someone with something to hide, pretends to be something other than who they really are gets found out - because 9 times out of 10 the 'fake' is the person who shouts the loudest about respect and trust and honesty.

So why am I a cunt? because I deliberately wrote a blog to remind someone of this fact - I put together a post that suggested I had ripped his world in to pieces under the guise my being a scorned woman. Now he knows I could have done it, sweet little me could have very easily pieced together the pieces of information he had given over the course of a year and used it for foul revenge - but I didn't.
I wrote it with a very deliberate intention, to highlight the fact that if you're going to live a "second life" you need to be honest with yourself first, it's all very well pretending to be someone online, we all do it to a certain extent, chatrooms and the like are fantastic places for escapism - but if you choose to go down that route don't become a victim to it. If RL truly comes first, then get off the internet and live in the real world and if you're not happy, change it - yes its hard but you're master of your life and playing a pity me card will only work for so long - the world of the internet is great but don't lose focus of the fact that it's not real, real is what happens when you log off, there are real people around you being hurt and damaged while you lock yourself away and type to strangers.

So why am I a cunt? simply because I am so sick and tired of watching people claim to be something they are not, damage people along the way and show little if no remorse for that - so with the power of suggestion and nothing more than words on a page, I used my blog to show someone that RL is more important and that true happiness cannot be found in pixel form, you have to find it in yourself first before you can ever be content in the company of others, physical or virtual.

I make no apology for that, this is my blog, how people interpret it is entirely up to them, if it struck a nerve, a guilty conscience then so be it - we're only ever responsible for our own actions just don't believe everything you read ;)

cravings

I WANT A CIGARETTE !!

Well actually I don't 'want' one but my brain is telling me I haven't had a chemical hit today and it now neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeds one. I won't have one but I may have a few moments of whinging while the urge passes.

Because that's all they are - moments.

Previous quit attempts have involved fake fags, gums, patches and 101 Biro's with chewed ends and I think I know why they didn't work - it's all very well replacing a ciggie with a plastic tube and filling it with a nicotine shot, but its actually that hand to mouth movement that needs to stop too. Okay, so it may work for some people but for me, it just reinforced that craving as my body wasn't getting the full effect of a king sized straight and with all the interesting stuff they put in to tobacco, I'm not entirely convinced its only the nicotine that makes quitting so difficult.

I've been googling and found that some of the over 4000 components that go in to one little smoke are of a questionable nature, who in their right mind thought that mixing generic tobacco with half of the pesticides and poisons found in the list below was a marketing strategy of pure genius proportions

Ammonia: Household cleaner
Angelica root extract: Known to cause cancer in animals
Arsenic: Used in rat poisons
Benzene: Used in making dyes, synthetic rubber
Butane: Gas; used in lighter fluid
Carbon monoxide: Poisonous gas
Cadmium: Used in batteries
Cyanide: Deadly poison
DDT: A banned insecticide
Ethyl Furoate: Causes liver damage in animals
Lead: Poisonous in high doses
Formaldehyde: Used to preserve dead specimens
Methoprene: Insecticide
Megastigmatrienone: Chemical naturally found in grapefruit juice
Maltitol: Sweetener for diabetics
Naphthalene: Ingredient in mothballs
Methyl isocyanate: Its accidental release killed 2000 people in Bhopal, India in 1984
Polonium: Cancer-causing radioactive element

but what has shocked me more was this little piece I found .. 

Along with blended tobacco and water, the 26-item L&M list includes high fructose corn syrup, sugar, natural and artificial licorice flavor, menthol, artificial milk chocolate and natural chocolate flavor, valerian root extract, molasses and vanilla extracts

 

and I'm begining to wonder just what else is hidden, it strikes me as rather clever to have vile ingredients mixed in with 'feel good flavours', total brain fuckery that mean cigarette manufactuors are laughing all the way to the bank.

So, I'm quitting, have wanted to for a while now and several failed attempts under my belt, I'm not about to become one of thise people who preach on the topic - but I am going to write this blog entry for a reference point to myself.

With only one member of my immediate family dying of heart disease and the rest going out riddled with cancer, you'd think I either would have never started smoking, or atleast quit on death days instead of sneaking off for a quick smoke after a funeral service, you'd think those images of a tar coated lungs on the back of a packet would have stopped me or even the more recent government campaign of making smoking socially unacceptable in public places and shown children passively smoking during commercial breaks on the tele would have worked - but none did, don't get me wrong, there was always room for pause and thought on the matter but none of the above were reason for me to never light up again.

What has worked? is the realisation that every time I spark up, I am chosing my own destiny but forcing the shoulders of my children to carry that. My 11 year old gave me a graphic description last year on just what smoking is doing to my body and it still wasn't the physical that caused me concern - it was the realisation that by smoking, I am forcing my children to watch me slowly kill myself - it may all be about personal choice, but when that choice affects the lives of the unheard then it's time to stop. By inhaling, effectively I'm making my children fear for our futures and that is why I've quit.

BUT - I won't ever tell anyone else to quit, it's a personal choice and while medics could profess the addictions involved and the government continue to spam us with anti smoking literature, the simple fact is, we all know it's a bad thing but we're allowed to decide for ourselves what we do next.

The only immediate downside to not smoking - is that the sense of smell comes back really quickly... I thought my cat farts were bad before .. nowadays they're of epic, biological warfare proportion.

boiled prim bunny

To the people that know me, I'm quiet, shy, sweet Lil Pip, a good friend, a trustable and dependable person who wouldn't seek to hurt any one. The few people who really know me though, know that I have the word bitch engraved in to the cold rod of steel that runs through me and this week, this week the devil within was unleashed.

I don't do confrontation, I don't do screaming rows and plate smashing, I go for a more cold and calculated approach when pissed off which maybe isn't something to be proud of and while very rarely will anyone ever get to see that side of me, but when pushed that far I will silently slip inside someone and rape their colon while they sleep.

You see, I don't do being used very easily. I don't do being lied to either and when someone comes in to my life, manages to achieve both of those without batting an eyelid and then begins to portray themselves as a superhero with morals purer than Snow White, I have this ugly habit of snapping.

What does snapping mean exactly if it isn't screaming like a banshee at the condescending bastard, or hurling 100wpm verbal abuse at the patronising cretin? well for me it involved one of my 'true friends' - google

The thing with forging friendships/ relationships online, if you're too busy trying to get out of that situation what you can, you stop being careful about the personal information you're sharing. It's all too easy to let slip what seem innocent status updates or tit-bits of your real life while you're desperately trying to manipulate a person in to believing in you - okay, so you don't give out your home address or telephone number but every now and then you will drop a comment and it's dear sweet little ebil cunts like me who will store those little time bombs away in the file marked "for future reference".. just in case they're ever needed ... and when that day comes, half an hour with google and those little time bombs become a WMD.

And here's the thing, while you may gasp at the horror of which I type here, consider me to be sly or underhand, think on this one thing - if you're going to treat me like a cunt, don't act surprised when I turn out to be one.

I took great delight in compiling that mass email, the one that has been read by your family, friends and work colleagues, I thoroughly enjoyed explaining in high quality graphic detail just what it is you really use the Internet for, I felt incredibly overwhelmed with emotion when using purdy italicised fonts to link every single web page, profile and conversation written by you and I damned near orgasmed when hitting the SEND button

but the fun doesn't stop there ..

because all it took was a song and a social networking site....

and now I'm damn near catatonic in euphoria knowing that on Monday morning, you will have to walk in to your workplace and not know which of your fellow 9-5ers know the truth about you - you're going to be hiding at your desk feeling eyes on you and not only are you going to be feeling sick but your stomach is going to be turning inside out every time the phone rings, could the next call be from a relative with a tone that will cut through your callous heart or will you go home at the end of the day to find your child has used a big fat red crayon to scribble daddy out of the family portrait ....

you see - it doesn't matter how careful you think you are online, someone else's privacy settings (or lack thereof) will ALWAYS fuck you up, which isn't a problem if you are honest about who you are but the second you log on and think you can keep your real life and virtual life separate - YOU'RE SCREWED

or do you really believe you are invincible, are you so lost to your virtual persona that you actually believe you are a decent man and will be completely unaware that any of these people now know the truths of your deceptions, now have documented evidence of your infidelities and who are now taking steps to remove you from their own realities.

And there's the rub - it's one giant mash up of questions,
has she really done it? who now knows? need a box of dihocalm yet?

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

I could have destroyed someone's life on Thursday night, I had the means and I had the desire to set fire to the arse of the man who hurt me
One apology, one heartfelt simple apology was all I wanted - a small token of recognition that he has the manners of a warthog and the morals of a sewer rat, an admittance that I purely was a 'snickers subbie' - a gap filler rather than of any real substance or worth, rather than the girl he supposedly loved and the girl whom he would whisper suggestion of real life to,

Okay, okay, I fell for it all - more fool me huh, what began as a pity cyber fuck has lead me to here, being full of vitriol and venom for a man with who hasn't got a clue that half the population of his blog readers only read it for the inaneness of it, for a man who doesn't know he is being laughed at from the moment he taps his fat little fingers on his keyboard, for a man who postures and proclaims to be so caring, considerate, empathic and genuine yet to his wider audience is perceived as a joke and I'll admit that, I could have very easily given Glenn Close a run for her rabbit stew pot
*if* he had of been more honest, *if* he had of been the person he tries to paint himself to be maybe, just maybe it would have all been very different but sadly for men like that,
men who truly believe they have something special to give, men who believe in an imaginary self worth,
men who have to constantly tell everyone they are superman helping little old ladies across the road and fighting for the justice of the downtrodden.
men who have a need they cannot satisfy in the confines of their real life and who destroy the lives of the people they cross while on the mission to find their nirvana.
men who use BDSM as their support tool, claiming to be cute little submissive simply to put the blame on to the evil bitch in heels who told, neigh demanded he kneel before them and wank,
(even if was only over the typed words of Kevin from Margate cleverly disguised as a female pixel goddess).
men who don't actually have the balls to change their situation and live as a pathetic victim "because of the children" and who actually believe they are the wronged party because their not getting their kinky sex needs met by their spouse - but who have never stopped to consider that said spouse actually finds them loathsome, unattractive and pre-pubescent puerile.
and men who actually do deserve to be sodomised by the karma cactus ....

The only question remaining now is .. did I use lube?