THREE DAYS LEFT [Defcon One]

Almost a whole week between posts!
That's like, against my religion or something.

Not only that, but from Friday i will be sans internet. That's right. No blogging, no msning, and infrequent emailing (when i can steal my mother's pc). How on earth will I manage? And how will you, dear gentle lonely reader manage? We'll telepathically hold hands and get through this troubled time.

Virgin Dot Net are fuckwits. Even though i gave them plenty of notice regarding my impending move, they only process it after 'terminating' the service at my current abode. Then they need seven to ten days to resume broadband at the new home.
[rolls eyes]

So Manchester Pride was 'done' at the weekend.
The parade wasn't as good as last year. And the main stage was lacking somewhat too. Although that picked up later. Still no excuse for having wank bits in the entertainment.

I had a moment with my GBF Mark though.

We've not seen each other since college, and we literally ran at each other from across the main stage and hurled ourselves into each others arms like a soft focused deodorant advert. And then proceded to immediately dry hump each other in public. Ah. The joys of having a gay best friend who isn't a relation. My brother's face was a picture. He looked a little shocked. As did a few other people. But there were whoops too, which I take full credit for of course.

The saturday evening was spent with wild gay abandon in our favourite club Essential.

We were tempted to go to Uni Challenge like last year, but fancied familiar ground instead, and knew that the music would be of a high standard along with the atmos. We weren't disappointed. Possibly the best nights clubbing all year for me. I wasn't naseous once. (A big deal for me on metformin)
Rolled into bed happily at half four.
"Oh yes. I still got it" thought I.

The next day, and I reviewed that opinion. Head wise i was absolutely mint, but my body was another matter. I was peeing for England every half an hour and physically ached from head to foot as though a large bear had spooned and hugged me all night in its death grip. And then shat in my mouth.
I must be out of condition. There's me thinking that fairly regular energetic sex would make up for a lack of exercise regiem. Alas. The rigours of five hours dancing and walking about during the day followed by five hours of frantic clubbing that evening sort of proved otherwise. I have more pics on my mobile, but it's new and I can't get them off just yet. Current pics are courtesy of my brother and are on Flickr down the side bar.

I did mean to go back into town sunday daytime, but I needed to recover. I had too much to do on Monday to lose another day 'recovering'. There will be other Prides. Other gay men to adore me. *flutters eyelashes*
Boyfriend couldn't come with for Pride which obviously sucked the big one, but i figure we will have many more Prides to share in the future. Just like there will be many more V festivals shared. And yes. That would be me talking about extremely long term future plans! *nods* Thats how well we are getting on. Well actually, that doesn't even touch a tenth of how well 'us' is going but hey.

The Monday was spent sorting out my garage for the move. Three dump trips and half a day later, and Mum and I were sorting through clothes to be taken to the third world by some dude coming round on a Thursday. Five white bin liners full. I was a tad ruthless though. I do have a ruthless streak occasionally.
Boyfriend came over for the evening, and all was right with the world again.

Then today.
TODAY.
I wish to spit on the memory of today.
Today was enrolment day at City College Manchester. So, because they screwed up my application in admissions, I hadn't been guaranteed a place on the evening class I wanted to take. A fairly important evening class and one I am really looking forward to. I was told it was a popular one, and that I should come early to avoid disappointment. So, me and my entourage schlepped (yes there it is again) ourselves down midday and began the enrolment procedure. Four hours later and I was told I couldn't complete enrolment because my housing benefit award letter wasn't recent enough. New stricter rules apparently. The proof has to be as recent as issued after the first of August. Now anyone whose been on benefits will know that the council aren't exactly free with their letters. But what really infuriated me was that the woman at the first desk should have pointed that out to me within five minutes of being there. Not four hours later surrounded by screaming kids reluctantly forced to eat paperwork for sustanence. There was this little deaf kid who was awful. Kept screaming, running a pram with dirty fat child in it all over the place, banging into people trying to fill out 50 forms each with only their full name as a weapon. Her mother was this chav draped in a shiny silver tracksuit, with dirty hair scraped back in a ponytail (Croyden facelift), screaming occasionally herself at the child without moving her enormous bulk from the straining chair. I felt bad for wanting to slap the woman, as i mispelled my last name due to my toe being run over by said buggy. Perhaps the poor chav was so heavy that she'd stuck fast to the chair and was too embarressed to ask for assistance, determined to eat away the pain with another packet of maltesers and a red bull. A red bull by the way which she proceded to feed to the fat infant in the buggy as well as the demon runner.
I have to admit I nearly cried when I was told to go away, and come back with more forms stamped from the job center.
FUCKING FUCKWITS.

Also.
What the hell is with junction five on the M60 ????? Did an imbecile create that patch of road system? Or someone with a sick sense of humour perhaps. It would appear, and PLEASE someone correct me if I am wrong (Goddy), that you cannot turn left off this junction and head into Didsbury down Princess Street. You are only allowed to follow this helter skelter which turns you about fifty times beyond all Sat Nav/Map reading capabilities, and spits you out near Birmingham. At one point I had to veer alarmingly as the M56 threatened to engulf me.
West Didsbury was so near and yet so far. So on the way home, I went back an old familiar route that i'd not traveled in quite some time. The old route that I used to drive to see the Ex in Chorlton. I did keep an eye out in case there was a chance i could do a road rage hit and run incident involving him, but nada.
What can I say? I was in an extremely irritated mood this afternoon after the four hour trauma.
Colleges.
Wouldn't know how to organise having a crap.

I think the worst part about today was losing an entire packing day. Three days left, and a million things to do.
Which reminds me.
I must ring my art tutor in the morning as i've no idea when to turn up on Monday.
Bed beckons with a book right now though.
Night anyone who managed to read this far!

Warning: Tipsy post alert.

I've been round my friend Vanda's house tonight. We've not met up since college what with one thing or another and it was great to catch up. I've missed her terribly.
Once i've moved i'll be staggering distance from hers, so that'll be handy!
Plus amusingly I have agreed to schlepping (tell me you know what schlepping is, as The Guy didn't) myself and The Guy to Taylors, the god awful social club that's a stones throw from both our houses to join her and her new boyfriend in a bit of a piss up. Vanda's not met him yet, and since she's known of him since february this year I think she's chomping at some kind of bit.
Luckily for all our cultural and street cred sakes I also managed to suggest we actually go out for a meal together. However I get the feeling that a night in round mine with six bottles of red is more likely to be on the cards. The woman is a lush! In a lovely way of course.

God Taylors.
That night was recounted to Vandas other half Ian this evening.
The night were I was more drunk than I've been in years thanks to Vanda's neighbours bringing their own bottle of bacardi.
The night where I didn't make it to my own home, but went round me mums and chucked up in her sink full of washing up instead.

In the absence of sleep...

...I drew a Native American.
As ya do.
I do so love line drawing. Sigh.

Gloves, and tight boxes [or] TEN DAYS LEFT

They say moving house is right up there as one of the most stressful events you can do. Just under losing a loved one to death or divorce. But I'm not finding this one tooooooo bad. Obviously it's mentally messy, but could be worse.
So if moving house comes easier the more often you do it, then these people on wife/husband number five plus must be sailing through the bad times.
My current move has suddenly and slightly alarmingly kicked up a notch.
I'm not at defcon one yet, more like... two and a half, but mentally my brain is all over the place.

I have a check list downloaded from one of those 'helpmeiammoving.com' sites. A list of people to phone and notify.
It's huge.
21 items long and I'm sure there are some missing.
I started making phone calls today at 10am and gave up after 4.30pm. A few were ticked off. And major score for me. I managed to wheedle a free Sky installation and brand new box! Was meant to cost 40 quid and I should have used my old box (which has run out of warranty). The guy was everso nice. I have a feeling he liked me. I realised quite quickly he had a fairly severe stammer and I'm aware that stammer sufferers often hate it when people fill in the words for them. I let him finish his sentences in his own good time. Maybe it was that, or it's more likely he keyed in the wrong option and couldn't be arsed to change it.

I got hold of City College too today, and found out that there had been an oversight with my application, but that if I popped along to the enrollment day next week early enough I might still be ok for a place in my English evening class. I'm REALLY looking forward to it. More than my art course but then, as my mum says, that could be because I know I like the English A level whereas the Art is a bit of a leap. Plus I'm looking forward to meeting more adult students in that class. I'm hesitant about the 16 - 19 year olds that my Art course will hold. GULP.
I know, blah blah blah. I don't half whitter on about the same old shit don't I!

I was stomping round the house like an obese troll with PMS, in DMs earlier. Not happy.
I was reading happily through my series of David Eddings books, currently having finished the Belgariad, and most of the way through the first book of The Malloreon, when I put it carefully to one side. Unfortunately, because reading lends me a temporary shroud of calm and peace, I tend to take my book all over the house with me, snatching snippets from the page whenever I can. This meant that even though I carefully left book two of The Malloreon to one side for later, I managed to sweep up my current book amongst a pile of others and pack it in a box.
Typical.
It's been awhile since I last read the entire series of ten or twelve books back to back as well, so I'm not entirely sure what happens. I'll probably end up guessing out of desperation and skip to book two anyway. Like in say, half an hour. Holed up cozy in bed propped with pillows.
Still.
I was not impressed. Even though I know I've only got eleven days left till it's possible to be reunited with it. I can't fish it out now, as my mother has taken the boxes with her round to hers to get them out of the way.
Any avid readers out there will know my pain!

The Guy has returned from V festival in one piece, although I have yet to see him. It feels like ages ago again. So long that I'll feel a little shy seeing him on Friday when I drive down. Maybe. The space, even though it was small, has sort of reminded me a little of what it was like before we met. Not that I was unhappy before or lonely as such. Which is the point isn't it. I wasn't looking for love. I didn't need it to validate my existence, for acceptance, approval by a third party before I'll approve myself. I was very happily getting on with my life. But because of that, because I was already content, I'm so aware of what, well, enrichment I've now gained since being with him. In so many ways. We compliment each other. As Ace Venturer might say: "Like a Glove!" Um. You can take that anyway you like!
*cough*

I'm haunted by my dreams. I have been for the past few months. Always vivid. Always remembered.
Last night was particularily bad. I moved house into this delapidated old victorian place full of properly spooky cobwebs, and stairs going up to level upon level. Anyway, to cut a rather long and intense dream short, it was haunted and the Ghost stole a small member of my family away and i was frantic trying to find her. The relative was locked in an attic wardrobe high at the top of the house. Not a pleasant dream at all. Perhaps my unconsious is trying to tell me that my facade of coping is coming to an abrupt end!

TGIF

Yesterday was results day.
It didn't go to plan of course.
That college has severe organisational issues. After trying to ring all morning, I finally got through to find out that they'd left the phone system on 'night phone'. With all the A Level students trying to call that was enough of a blunder really. Then when I managed to ask about my results, all the woman could say to me apart from repeatedly calling me something odd like 'deary' or 'prescious' was that i'd passed my access course. Yeah. Thanks for that! Now how about someone tell me what I don't know? Not like i've been working for this for a year and a half or nothing.
[cue rolling eyeballs]
So, not being able to get any more info on grades/marks/my entire counseling course, through from the computer, I asked whether I should come into the college to pick up the certificates and details, or would they be sent to me. She didn't know. How can you not know? What's more was, she wasn't prepared to find out either. Told me to ring back in a few days or next week.
Charmed.

Good bit of news.
The contract's exchanged and the move is all set! Key's are booked to be in my sweaty palms by the 1st. Removals booked for the 2nd. Carpet cleaners booked for the 1st.
[ed: I don't usually have sweaty palms!]
Why does everything have to come at once though? I've got five days to sort out my car insurance renewal. Which means coming up with a lump deposit. Doh!

Last Chance Saloon

I texted my lovely college friend Vanda the other day.

"Erm when are we meant to be getting our results? And do we pick them up or are they sent? I was thinking we could drive in together. X"

She sent me a load of consonants back that I finally managed to unravel into meaning that the 17th was The Day.
I hate it when people use 'text talk'. Although I will occasionally take out spaces after full stops if need be. Bad me! My landlord doesn't bother with full stops at all. Which is helpful.
Anyhoo!

So Thursday is the day huh?
I wonder whether I'm nervous?
I suppose I would be had the tutors not blatantly told us who had passed and who hadn't. In a way it's taken some of the fun out of it all. I'll still be interested to see the actual marks though. Bigging myself aside, knowing I managed to get the highest Psychology mark helps. The only one I don't know about is counseling. That exam being the most bizarre event known to a governing body ever of course. On my own in a room with an adjudicator who was receiving mobile phone calls, reading through my work, listening to work men painting the hallway with their stereos on so all I had was 'I'm An Alien, I'm A Legal Alien' going round in my head, and the adjudicator telling me ten minutes from the end that she'd let the time run over until I was finished all made for one wacky exam. Not that she needed too might I hastily add.
Not forgetting her then telling my waiting tutor outside that she had a good feeling about me, and that she occasionally had psychic flashes and 'knew' things, and this was one of those times. Not that I'm mocking the supernatural of course. Let the lovely little brown hair bobbed and bespectacled middle aged woman with the pleated skirt and flat pumps be right, I say. I'll happily cavort naked round some burning effigy if it secures decent grades.

So the 17th should be interesting.

Technically I should be starting uni this year, but I'm very happy to check out this other art avenue first before I plunge into any decisions concerning direction in uni. It's unnerving knowing that this is your last chance. Educationally speaking. That's what it feels like to me. It's why I'm so driven. And to be honest, there is something addictive and compelling about fulfilling courses and totting up shit loads of points to present to some uni in the future. ME WANT MORE POINTS. But yes, I was saying, last chance. When you're young and in education I think there's an element of 'oh whatever, lets see what happens', and there's always the knowledge that you can change career path later on. Study something else if need be. Well this is sort of it for me. Or so it feels. There is no 'later on'. Now or Never. So I'm going to be damn sure I've covered every angle possible before I launch into things.
(Says she after an impulsive move across the country to be near an ex almost two years ago)

Well.
I'm speaking educationally here!
Romantically speaking, I'm still the daft brush that runs head long into love. Although these days I've realised that all the other's in the past weren't true love. How corny is that then! Stop retching at the back.
I refuse to make this post soppy.
Although I would like to mention at this juncture that The Guy is driving up tomorrow night to see me before he goes off to V festival. I'm not going with him (this year). It was all booked and stuff pre-me. Well before we became so joined at the emotional hip anyway. Luckily there's all manner of stuff to get done this end in the next few weeks concerning the move, so I should have my mind distracted from missing him too much. Which of course is utter bollocks as he is always at the forefront of it anyway. Strange that isn't it? Getting on with usual things, and thoughts, but having someone else tangled into those thoughts so tightly they never really leave your mind.

My birthday's coming up.
I believe I might have mentioned it once or twice before! Ahem. Send all wellwishes and postcards etc.
I'm thinking that I won't be able to celebrate it properly around the actual date (8th Sept) due to the move, college starting, high school, nursery, and one brother (essential to a good night out) being in hospital having his tonsils removed. Oh it's all go round here you know.
So.
Bringing it forward to the first available weekend means Manchester Pride will see me celebrating not only the fact that my brother is a raving shirt lifter and I'm proud of him, nor just the fact that I look good in a mini skirt and biker boots, but also that it's my 30th.
It'll be a big weekender!
I might wind up not seeing my 31st!

[ed: Jesus this post is enormous. I do apologise. If you reached the end and this message then you get a sticker]

P.S. Huge hello to Howie in Rome if he's reading this. The Charles to my eleven year old Diana from Friends Reunited. Crazy small world.

Spare 11p?

And how was Monster House 3D at the Printworks, I hear you ask?

A hellova lot less scary than it could have been. My repeated warnings to take the glasses off if it gets a bit much weren't necessary. I did guess the entire plot after three minutes too. Always a downer. Even with kids movies you kinda hope for a twist or two or something comedic for the adults. There was one joke for adults, except that it involved ladygardens so really it was just a joke for women then.
Other than that? It was a good film. Visually stunning etc. Worth seeing, but could have been improved upon.

Pizza Hut afterwards... and those dippy square pizzas are really delicious. The whole thing was a tad expensive though so I once again find myself skint. Actually, I enjoy spending money on an outing, or a meal, or something pleasurable. But my mother is the tightest woman alive, and begrudges spending anything to have a good time. This resulted in me having to largely ignore her moans about the price and the fact that she just stuck to a side salad for dinner. Well, that's what she ordered, but of course I made her eat the main pizza dippy thing too. It was successful though. All told.
So a tram ride home, and that was yesterday.

I'm knackered this morning. The chronic tiredness hasn't stopped yet. The occasional nausea and breathlessness continues. If I didn't know better I'd say I was pregnant (but I'm most definitely not). That's the type of feeling it is. Draining tiredness.
Vit B12 deficiency huh? Who knew those pesky B vitamins were so important.
Well I'm swathed in a white fluffy dressing gown, and cbeebies is on, so I might go and have a little relax on the couch...... Yawn.

Holding my breath..

.. for him.


And i just don't get why anyone would ever let him go. I simply don't understand it. At all.

Illustration Friday: Capture

I'm sensing a running theme here.
Are you?
Anyway, due to it being a wide pic, if you'd like to see it better then just click the image and it'll take you to a bigger version.
Ta muchly.

I'm not producing anything with much depth to it now am i!
Last week's 'clean' acrylic on canvas is still half finished. I'm just not in a very deep mood I suppose.

Have i mentioned...

... that I'm going to be turning the big three oh in just under a months time?
Yup.
I will be officially in my thirties.
It seems such a short slide downhill to being in my fourties and middle aged!
But.
Aren't women at their sexual peak in their thirties and fourties?
Does this mean i'm going to be climaxing at the drop of a hat? Or perhaps the drop of a trouser? Am I going to turn into this insensed sexual being that thinks of nothing but sweet sweet lovin' from her man indoors? Can i possibly BE more randy than I am now? [read in manner of Chandler from Friends]
My poor boyfriend.
It's a good job the man has stamina!

---

This weeks Illustration Friday topic is 'Capture'. I am feeling very unenlightened (is that even a word?), so if anyone wishes to come up with inspiration for me then please do. I have today and some of tomorrow in which to illustrate it, if i'm going to at all this week.
(Easy now Backroads.. I know the topic is possibly vaguely sexual in nature but take a deep breath!)

Dental disasters!

I went to rebook a dental appointment this morning and found that apparently due to having missed one (i repeat ONE) appointment said dentist had put a note on my file saying he would no longer see me.
The man is a lunatic!
If it wasn't for the fact that NHS dentists are rarer than gold dust, I would have changed anyway as his attitude was awful.
A foreign fella who held very strong views on his 'work'. For example he once had a right go at me for not going to the dentist for a few years even after I had told him my circumstances meant it wasn't possible.

Excuse me?
Do you know me?
Do you think you are better than me?
Do you have any idea of what my life is like?
Did you know that at one point I barely had two pennies to rub together and couldn't afford to buy a £45 pound filling excluding 'labour' when I wasn't on benefits? (They are so like builders huh)
Do you have any right to pass judgement on my priorities? As in food coming before teeth?

He is the same guy who threw a tantrum at EVERYONE who worked there when their computer system went down and he couldn't get access to the X Rays. I didn't see the other twenty bleeding dentists throwing latex gloves about and shouting intelligably.
Delusions of grandieur. I think he thinks he is God.

For FUCKS sake.

So while I am secretly happy i no longer have to see that overly dramatic hungarian who liked to carress my neck in order to feel lumps, or whatever the fuck he was, I have a problem with finding another dentist.
The reception manager, a Very Nice And Apologetic Lady, said she would put my 'case' (my case being my one missed appointment) forward to the practice manager who will review it, discuss it with a possible other dentist, and see what they say. If i'm deemed worthy I suppose she will contact me and let me know.
Charming!
Meanwhile, I have said that I will not be sending the rest of my family to the same dentist again, as no doubt there will be somewhat of an atmosphere and I'm not twelve years old and in need of a telling off each time.
The Very Nice And Apologetic Lady said that because my family are not on a course of treatment that they can see any of the dentists at the practise in the future.
Well thank fuck for that.
'Moany Moran' the demon dental dick would probably have whiped all their teeth out in a fit of revenge/rage/retaliation or something. And then I would have had to go all old skool ghetto on his ass and strapped him to his detists chair on his front whilst using his drill to enlarge his rectal cavity.

He is the Crisp N Dry to my chips.

I've bought an acrylics book and i'm not afraid to use it! I bought it with my award voucher I won from my old college. Woo!

Bowling.
I'm beginning to appreciate more wholesome activities like bowling, and walking hand in hand with the one i love along a canal bank in the sun. Debauched clubbing til the sun comes up seems to be losing its appeal. Heaven forbid i'm growing up. Nah.
I've been to The Guy's for a couple of days and he took me bowling with his friends, a nice couple. We also went to see The Break Up movie and I've decided I want to buy a maroon bowling shirt with my name written at the top and belong to a couples team. I'm going to let The Guy get used to the idea gently. It's not that long til his birthday and his shirts preordered. His embroidered name will be heartfelt and meaningful. His native american name of Walks With Shadow And Has Nimble Fingers.

My landlord's estate agent came round today to measure up and take photos. She walked into the lounge and busied herself saying "It's going to rain soon."
"Ah yes, there are a couple of dark clouds out now aren't there," said I.
She fixed me with a steely stare, challenging me to mock her, and said, "Oh I don't mean that. I mean you can sense it."
Stare, stare.
"Course, um, yes. The freshness." I might have looked at the floor to retain my sympathetic air.
"Yes and the tingling in the nerves. Oh and the smell of course." She gave the lounge a deep resounding sniff, crinkling up her nose and allow her nostrils full room to do their job by flaring them alarmingly. Then she carried on measuring the walls with the little red bleepy light machine.
I didn't like to mention that the smell was probably more due to the old piece of jam toast i'd left lying in the kitchen for two days with the house shut up.

It hasn't rained yet.

mmmmmm

We'd only not seen each other for five days, but when he entered the house it was as though we'd not seen each other for a year.
Time goes nuts around us.
It drags and droops around our ankles like a pair of ill fitting lederhosen when we aren't together, and speeds up as fast as a fucking daddy-long-legs on wizz once we are reunited.
We embraced for ages, slapping away my over eager dog Killer in the process with whatever limb he wasn't furiously dry humping at the time. Has anyone seen the scene from Mystery Men where the amourous skunk has a 'special moment' with a couple of Superhero's on a hilltop before battle? Well we were like that. Only I suppose it was more of a reluctant three way as we attempted to ignore Killer and be lost in the romantic moment.
Killer however does it every time The Guy comes round. He barks and runs around in a frenzy when we kiss. Neither of us has worked out yet whether he is jealous of me or The Guy.
Must dash.
Popping to Chorley with mother.
x

Illustration Friday: Clean.

I'm actually in the process of painting that acrylic, but it might take longer than a week. Plus its a bit of a morose take on the topic of clean. So I decided to do something a little more lighthearted just for today. Sorry about the quality of the pic. My camera aint behaving like it used to.

Hope you like it.

I'm off to IKEA this evening with mother dearest. I must remember not to accidentally buy anything. You know. By accident. Yes, well.
Watched Holy Smoke again this afternoon with Kate Winslet and Harvey Keitel (sp?). Disturbingly erotic. Very clever by challenging preconceived ideas, and i love the way, right at the end when Kate's mind games have reduced Harvey to a begging wreck, all the pantomime of the christian religion is displayed as the real cult of the masses. Very good director. Outstanding performances. Beautiful little details here and there.
"Lady in reeeeeeeeeed"

Moving souls.

I've cried twice tonight.
Once about two hours ago when i started listening to Des'ree 'I'm kissing you' and I had to turn it off.

And then again just now to Bjork's 'All is full of love', which i'm listening to on repeat and this is the fourth go through. I expect there will be a fifth. Perhaps even a sixth.

I daren't put a certain Snow Patrol song on.

I'm going to attempt Des'ree again. So beautiful. I want the sheet music so badly. Oh and a piano to get lost in.

When was the last time you cried?

When was the last time your heart hurt?

When was the last time music moved you to tears?

Move Schmove

So I'm moving house again. Possibly in a month.
And you know what?
I think I'm more nervous about this move than the move up north. Which is insane. Maybe it's because I'm older and wiser. Read, more cynical.

I think whereas moving house before was an exciting time full of possibilities and a 'rosy' future with my now ex, that soon fell to bits and has tarnished the whole thing.
So even though my head says that moving house this time is SUCH a good move for all of my family and I, my heart is having a hard time digesting that information and not being afraid.
Silly old heart.
Sigh.

Did anyone see that programme on channel four the other day about heart's having brain cells on them. Like a mini brain. It was fascinating. Completely and utterly amazing. That whole idea sang to me. Remember the last time you experienced heart ache over a loved one? And it really is your heart aching isn't it. It's not just a phrase. It's a physical pain. Well I think the mini brain idea is responsible anyway.
And perhaps some people have larger heart brains than others, and feel things more acutely than others. Perhaps those people are the more empathic ones, the helpers, the healers.
[shrug]
It's a nice idea though isn't it.
One I might just have to develop into a novella or something. (Yes, yet another novel idea that won't get written!)
And some men have no heart brains at all, and are emotionally crippled. Now all you ladies are nodding your heads out there aren't you.
All two of you.

I've got to get a removal company to quote me.
Any northerners out there know of a cheap but responsible removal firm?
And I've got to clear out all the shite so I'm only moving what I need to. Bloody hell. I need to order a skip!

How is it that I feel so stagnant at a time of such change and progression?
Why do I feel like I'm just going through the motions because someone has told me what to say and what to do?
It takes a lot of effort for a little pleasure lately. In day to day life you perverts... not 'that'. Although, in keeping with the theme.. i've not been anywhere near my nethers in ages.
[shrug]

On another note.
I think I'm a little psychic.
Or psycho.
One of the two.