...so please don't give a thought to me, I'm really doing fine, you can always find me here, i'm having quite a time

I love flowers. I think for Christmas I am going to ask for a flower press. I got one once as a child. I also like bunches of flowers and flower arranging. The most embarrassing moment of my childhood was winning a flower arranging competition. I entered the competition at school simply because I wanted to arrange flowers. I didn't think anyone would notice I was the only boy in the school to enter a flower arranging competition. Unfortunately, for me, I won. I had to accept a prize infront of the whole school and because I was a boy, weirdly some people bypassed the early signs I was gay and assumed my mother had created the arrangement, and as a boy I was simply a cheater. Ironically, my dad had helped me with the flowers, although it was all really done by me. It was exciting and the flowers remained on a table as a centerpiece for a while. I wish there was a picture to show, as all the flowers were from our own back garden.

When I was about 21, I had a boyfriend called Matthew. We went to different universities so there were often romantic meetings that started at the train station, and on one occasion he greeted me with flowers, like a man would for a woman. Some might argue this is pathetic and reinforces that gays are flouncy and camp. But it didn't feel like that at all. They were really nice flowers, roses if I remember correctly. It must of been love.

I'm thinking about submitting my entry to the Born This Way blog, where gay men and women submit a little story about from when they were growing up with the theme of being gay, complete with a childhood photo. There are a lot of entries of little girls in work man helmets and little boys in mum's shoes. I think writing in my flower arranging story is a great idea, shame there isn't an actual photo of the flowers to accompany it. Anyway, here's the Statler Brothers:

no hesitation, no delay

NEVER FORGET 11-9-2001

and I said thank you, your hair is so beautiful

In a month's time it will be 3 years that I started writing here. Master Bracknell originally started off as a photo blog with snippets of detail about my life. Back then, things seemed happier. I think looking back, my problems weren't as serious, they were usually just about boys or my bad habits, yet they still were problems to me. I wish they were still my problems. I've had to deal with much worse since, especially in this last year. But it's okay now. I want to go back to the way things were 3 years ago, on here and in my life. A real fresh start.

I say this because this week someone new has started reading my blog. I don't advertise it out, I don't have the link published anywhere and I hope to god no one in my family reads it. I know that Hayley reads it because I not only value her opinion on my style of writing but people like her who I am close to I like to feel know me completely through this. I place my trust in certain people, and when I see them, instead of awkwardness and knowing, I feel closer to them in a way which is like no other, and seeing as I am not physically affectionate, it's kind of my way of being so. When choosing who I want to read this, I choose carefully, giving them the option to possibly ask. Only intelligent and open minded friends would understand this 'bare all' exposure online. My blog has fallen into the wrong hands of some people, but then, it's served as useful protection and as a way to defend myself.

I met a new friend in Brighton who I have wonderful conversation with and who for a living is a life coach. I have kept in touch with him via email, and having read some of my blog, he made comment which spurred me onto to read back on everything in the past. I then thought that this huge past 8 week update was something quite negative, and that Master Bracknell had become this place to unravel so much pain, and yes that has been helpful, and yes it can be painful to read, but I don't feel like I'm in that place anymore. I don't need to write about anything else that happened this summer, it happened, you know about it, and it's the past. I need to look forward, I've learnt that about myself, it's an important thing to do: move forward.

I know things are getting better. I'm feeling better. I'm excited but cautious. I want to laugh. I'm interested in fashion and my looks again. I'm out of that trampy slutty summer phase now. I'm shaving and washing my hair again. I'm excited to get on with things. And I've lost interest in recounting the events of this summer eloquently. My friend's email made me realise this. He said something that clicked just now, and this blog has helped me overcome traumas and troubles, but I think I am better from it all now, and I am ready to move on steady and realistic, and to post my daily ideas and events and photos for what the main reason this blog was all about: to develop my writing and to show off my photography.

Thank you!

You Know Me Better

dr feel good.

I've really missed writing on MB. I haven't covered all the updates of my recent absence however I have time, and during which I will continue to update how I presently am doing, coping and being (along with any other developments).

Simon has left for Hong Kong. My parents have just returned from Heathrow. They are tired and probably a little sad to see him go. I have to admit that seeing him this time, and after so long, was not in any way how I imagined it. I was anticipating him to come back and sense that I was lazy and start bossing me around. I was expecting to be made to feel useless and rubbish again, and I was expecting to be picked on by dad due to there being the contrasting comparison of success and disappointment in two similar people. However, it was opposite. I didn't spend a lot of time with him and didn't really go on any social excursion as such, but got to talk, and I felt that out of the select people I have discussed my ideas with, especially that of my story, he was the most genuinely interested. I was really excited to talk about it to someone who really wanted to talk to me. It's weird, because people do want to talk to me in my life, my friends for example, but no one ever really wants to discuss anything with me, and not many times when they do is there a mutual understanding, so it felt really great to have that. And because of that I am actually sad that he has gone back. We will email each other about ideas and such though, so I am really happy to have a connection with him. Maybe we are kindred after all. I always thought David was the one I connected to, but lately he's been a nightmare.

I spoke to Greg today, which was lovely. I do think he has an obsession with finding a man, and I hate to have the opinion that anyone who considers a man, or sex, or a relationship with more importance than themselves first as someone with some serious emotional problem, I can't help but let him entertain me with his stories, conquests and chases. It almost saves me from having to subject myself to the horrors of internet dating and crawling round bars, I never bother with any of that, but I've been subsequently single for 2 years now. I have had very little involvement with men since I stopped caring for Steve and have tried to take advantage of such a freedom but nothing really happens to me, except terrible things or mixing with terrible people - 2 incidents and 2 people of which I will discuss later on in the week when I describe a certain 'downfall'. Having Greg as a friend helps trivialise such things, and I really love him for that.

I spoke with Wiggy today, feeling so much better with myself now I am recovering and talking to her and not feeling jealous about not getting to spend every moment I can with her. I guess the summer of drug binges and hot confusion jiggled my head a bit, but I had a female crush moment where I didn't want to be away from her at all, but couldn't tell if she wanted me to fuck off or not. I feel a lot more relaxed now, don't feel a friendship is going to fade or be less favoured and I can't wait to see her again. I feel so good and so happy and positive, honestly, I need to revel in it, but after being ill and having such shit happen to me continuously, and finally getting my motivation back to make myself someone and do something, I feel like I could just shout out and make friends with all my old enemies.

I feel good about being selective on my social life, and being the mature decider. I feel good about building myself up and not having to be an excuse. Guys like me come out best when you think about it. I don't care what so and so thinks when they laugh at me. Because they haven't dealt with what I dealt with, I cannot be touched. I will never be abandoned, lost or left. I have a family who love me dearly, and friends who love me dearly, and I have a life and future I should love and appreciate. I am not alone, yet the ones who laugh... you laugh now, but when you fall asleep next to that 'other half' of yours, I know that those final thoughts in your consciousness before you drop off are ones of crippling self doubt and loneliness. A credit card, a holiday, a new car.... they don't love you. You don't love you.

Anyway, a photo update bit now:

photos from my nan's 80th at the Belfry (really posh and golfy)

 spot the gay brother

 yup, that's me.

 nothing like a giant pink balloon to enchance your gayness. Hayley looks cute here

my brothers and myself, all of us, rarely together, with our mother

chocolate in the garage

Well I am still lying here in bed, being ill. I feel better by the day, though I'm giving myself 4 more days to be symptom free, and 2 more weeks till I start the new stage of my life as a mature and responsible adult who 'does things'. That way, I've had 4 weeks of rest, and recovery, which is the sufficient and typical amount of time one requires when in rehab. And I believe that I have damaged myself so much this year, more than any year perhaps (or perhaps not, it's hard to remember), that if I could afford it, I would of flown to Arizona and booked myself in at the Meadows Clinic. But because I don't have a spare £20,000 in my pocket, I will just have to do with here in Redditch for free.

Not a lot has happened in actual life but as usual a lot happens in my head, and there is still plenty to update about. The last 8 weeks prove interesting. And I need to document it all, it keeps a perspective on everything, the world spins properly for me when it's written down, I don't feel dizzy.

So what to update about now... well, I suppose a recap of my plans for the rest of the year and a discussion of a indepth and very enlightening tarot reading I did last week is in order. I feel having that down in writing (and with a photo) will be beneficial to me in keeping with the successful transition predicted in the finishing outcome card, though, considering what I have been through, and the knowledge of it being my own fault, I doubt it's a stage I will forget to move onto.

Before I made myself horrifically ill, my problem of procrastination became extremely severe. Money I was supposed to raise for my trip to London was never made, and instead I begged and emotionally blackmailed my mother into lending it me. The problem of combating procrastination, and nipping it in the bud ironically became a task added to the long list of things to do before procrastination set in too deep, hence made impossible to achieve. It took being so ill, and a certain experience of unpleasantness awarded through reckless undignified behavior, to begin doing things. One thing off the long lost list was to treat myself to an evening of tarot. I needed this reading, it confirmed everything to a precise accuracy. I shuffled my cards for the majority of the evening, reading them in the Celtic Cross spread just before midnight.

This is what I was told, in prose, but in order of the cards...

As a young man full of life, curious of the world, and a lot of love to give, I am compelled to ask such a question due to the severity of the problems that have effected my life lately. (The second card over the first card I literally saw as myself bearing a cross, a burden). Depression, illness and betrayal has had an effect on me in a way that has created a desperate urgency and I guess when they energy presented itself I asked the cards what will happen to me. I used to ask when or if I was going to fall in love, now I wonder if I will still be alive by Christmas. So the reasons were clear.

Ideally, I have a vision in my mind of what I should be doing: building up my life from scratch, and doing it properly, and doing it without shame. It's hard to do, when you struggle with addiction, and you're surrounded by people who are more interesting to each other because of their success and happiness, people who drift through life with business trips and boyfriends. It's harder when you're betrayed by people you give up everything for and use you up with evil you can't comprehend, beaten down by all the Camerons and Matthews who tell you that 'for your age' you are worthless. The evil these people feel they have the rights to, the rights they feel they can freely access to mentally damage another, astounds me. Even in my youth I have never reached out to hurt someone like that. Therefore my heart tells me to do the wrong thing, I feel compelled to go down a self destructive route, one of quick fix and long lived bad consequences, forever in debt to karma.

The recent past indicates how delusional I was. I feel glad to say that the drugs really messed me up, heightened the need to escape to the point where I was on the brink of turning to prostitution and porn to support my life. Did I really see myself like that? The ideas I had back then were all disillusioned, even to the simple fact that I can't move anywhere without money. Recent future warned me of the importance of patience. That I will be impatient. I see that as the rejoicing in recovery, and as an Aries, wanting to rush into things when things go good.

But I was reassured during the end of the reading; I am a natural optimist, and that always carries me through. Don't ever be put off. The only thing I need to consider is the pressures of my social life, and taking on too much socially, and with that comes obviously the temptation. It will be hard, but good friends will support. If I keep reminding myself then I will be upping to the next stage: maturity. And hopefully, I will be secure in myself and stable, before I am 30.

My dreams are like any one else: harmony in every area of life. I don't want money, cars, expensive shit, and shallow pointless bollocks most twats thrive for. I want someone to love, and to love me back. I want a job that will keep me alive. I want to have the freedom to create in my own time and the freedom to see my friends and family, and to create a life for myself, that will be interesting and inspiring. I want to make the most of my freedom and help others make the most of theirs too.

So....the reality is clear. What I love about tarot is that it's not about being told what's going to happen in a crystal ball kind of way, though there have been moments. It's about spiritual guidance, counselling, it's about being helped. You could argue that this reading is just telling me what to do, in the form of pure common sense. But out of all the cards in the deck, and all their meanings that are so different and contrasting, it seems too much of a coincidence for the cards that mean what they do to fall into the places they did on this reading and give me this in depth advice. I may not of learnt something, but I feel like I have. And that is this:

Patience and Appreciation of what is NOT popular to eventually get ahead is what I need to DO. I can practice patience. I can appreciate the sensible option. I am positive and mature enough to know that I haven't got a choice if I want to live.

Because looking for jobs away from home is pointless when you can't afford to move, when you're not healthy, when you're priorities are shot, when you're mind is a mess, when you've got a hell of a come down to come down on, when you're happiness lies elsewhere, when you owe money rather than need to save.... basically, I am going to live at home till next year. Then, when I am ready, and I actually own things that are nice (a computer, a camera, a pair of shoes) and I have other nice things (dignity, self respect), it might be then acceptable to move and gain more nice things (new friends, a better job, recognition, a boyfriend).

I would love a boyfriend. I would love to just have someone to talk to who likes me. No one likes me, I shan't pity over it, my understanding is a comfort anyway, but I would love to have someone here, unaffected by class issues and pop culture, someone none threatening and who only looks my way, who drives up or ambles by and in and tells me 'Andrew its going to be OK you won't die, you're being over the top and I do care and I do want you'.

I'm going to move to London with Greg. Greg is an expert with finding men (keeping them is the challenge). We will share an apartment, nice, modern, looking over the river. Some weekends I will go to Paris. I will take photos all the time and be obsessed with all my interests. I will write that story, and it will be published. They will turn it into a gritty film, and that bit of my life will be immortalised forever.

write a note to self that i love you and no one else

One of the symptoms of feeling ill like this is suffering from a temperature that in the night can make you have freaky and somewhat terrifying nightmares that you think are real. I just awoke (or was already awake) from a dream where my whole existence was fake, and that the government were waiting for me, my house was a set, my parents weren't real and I was all on and in on some huge government conspiracy theory. So real it was, I ended up having to wake my mom up, crying.

Yesterday I had a funny dream, and enjoyed relaying it to Greg and my mother. The thing about this dream and others I've had are they are simply derived from the sound of my mom in the morning using her new running machine downstairs in the room below my room. So a lot of my dreams in the morning begin or are centralled around that sound and my subconcious mind interprets the sound for my dream differently each time, sometimes simply there is a running machine or a piece of gym equipment in my dream.

 I really liked Greg's other friends

 one of my favourite things to do sometimes is spot the Greg in the background of a mad 3 in 1 photo op.

Yesterday's dream was funny - it starts out with me in the dining room of my old house on Chestnut, but from a really long time ago, as the furniture was from when I was little. I am using a cross trainer and my friend Greg, is sitting at the table. We are both exercising and it looks like I have been making a collage or something crafty. Outside it appears an American academy of some kind are playing cricket. There are lots of nice sexy Americans outside, like some kind of American Eagle advert, and some silver foxes there too. Greg sneaks out of the window, and after being bored on the cross trainer I go outside to find him. When I find him, he is engaged in an intricate orgy with some of these Americans and one of the silver foxes inside the hedge that surrounds the house. I tell him to come down and play with me, and the Americans beg me to let him stay. I argue playfully and ask them who allowed them to play cricket in the front garden of my house anyway to which I am informed my father did. I then ask them what right they had to have a gay orgy in my hedge, and they feel remorseful. Greg reluctantly comes down out of the hedge, and I suddenly announce that 'im gonna tell mom!' He then playfully chases me round the garden, trying to tickle me whilst I laugh like a hyena. Back in the house we head back to the dining room and pass my mom who, in a short moment when Greg isn't there, whispers 'where was he?' and I laughing reply 'where do you think?!' just as he comes back into view. I then wake up, to the sound of my mom on her running machine downstairs.

What is the significance of this dream? Or more importantly what does it mean?

Whether I want him to be or not, Greg is on my mind a lot. A lot of people, usually misinformed or weird sheltered gay types can't understand why a gay guy can have a platonic yet affectionate friendship with another gay guy. I have never been sexually involved with Greg and no feelings of romance have ever been exchanged but beyond that everything else has been- from being forced to kiss him for jokes at a bar to frolicking naked together on a beach. In fact there were times where we enjoyed disturbing friends with our acts of dual nudity. But I guess we've been through a lot.

Everybody is going through something. I may think I have it bad, and it's easy to compare. You can do it with anyone. I could put myself on a scale of how bad things are, to the next person and the next, but it leaves you feeling either like you are doomed or that you have no right to complain.

I believe that Greg has had, probably like me, one of the worst years of his life, a bizarre experience in the form of a relationship that like no other was formed of a base of all things not real. I can relate to the fact that you are sucked into a situation you get used to but that is not right. And it's all over, his whole life is different and in a matter of a day, it's flipped upside down. It's hard to maybe see it like this at first, Greg is proud, he doesn't allow you to see that side of him that suffers but he does suffer, and it's up to me to recognise the signs and to not mix them up with what others might perceive as 'petty behavior'. Greg I think to others is probably easy to dismiss. But they just don't read him properly. He doesn't get the chance.

I would be lying if I felt sad for him. I couldn't be happier. I hated Enzo and Enzo hated me. I was nothing but nice to him like I am from the start to any of my friends partners but he was awful to me and to me represented everything wrong with the westernised modern day mind of the selfish consumer. He made me sick, so I was glad that it was over for them. However, like me, Greg now exists in a place between routine and aimlessness and is learning new and harder lessons with each mistake. It's almost like in two totally different ways, our lives both simultaneously blew up in our faces, right at the same time.

school uniform party, I went to a posh Catholic school, as you can tell

by my rosary beads. Greg went to a finishing school ;)

An Honest Update for those who Care?

Dear Readers of which there aren't any who admit they are,

I have decided to come back to Master Bracknell, as I believe it's the only place where I can write about my life! I feel I can blabber on and on as much as I like and be brutally honest, and I really love blogger, and I really miss its down to earth no nonsense... I could go on... but I just googled myself for no apparent reason and the only thing that comes up is a picture of myself posted on this blog somewhere a few years ago. Looking back now, the photo is pretentious and stupid, and it seems ridiculous that THAT photo comes up as the only proof of my online existence. Anyway, got reading old blog, fell back in love, realised the feel, the style, the comedy, the creativity, the longevity of it all... and feel like it's an old friend, and that I have so much to tell that friend, and that's what I am doing, here I am telling you what's been up (and down) and that after a few mistakes, I will carry on writing here.

Firstly, I want to say, that one of the reasons why I am returning is because I've not always been so down on here, and it's instantly given me a lift that I can write here. I am turning a corner of a horrible part of this year as we speak. My posts on here aren't always as harrowing as my life has been at the time. I feel almost compelled to write comically about some of the worst experiences of my life lately. In fact, it makes it easier to address. But, I recently re read Estelle's old LiveJournal, and got in touch with Estelle, we spoke on the phone, and she just seemed completely indifferent to me, distracted, uninterested. Completely. When I mentioned the comfort and laughs I get from reading her old LiveJournal she just seemed annoyed, and when the offer to write to her in Abu Dhabi was made, she was actually quite rude to me. So I feel the nostalgia of her LiveJournal is now no longer a contender to my wonderful journal, my Master Bracknell.

Secondly, and I realise this now as the words flow out, I have the flair here, and the positivity. I feel inspired to carry on and write. I feel maybe it's because I am not entirely sure who reads it on blogger, where as on tumblr and LiveJournal and WordPress you have people following you and hash-tags are important and networking seems to be the only reason, it seems that I was reading a lot more of other people's depressing lives, and didn't know whether I wanted to or not, and whether the recognition I was seeking was genuine or not, whether I was just being influenced by social media and blogging for the reason of being known. Maybe also that the screen is so WHITE on blogger makes me feel happier. I actually NEED to write, always, and made a couple of blogs between the time of my last entry and now, but I addressed my life in a way which was awful, I was writing shit poetry which I never do and I was basically 'coming clean' in a way that one does at a narcotics meeting. There was no forward movement in the writing, and if i didn't want to read what I'd just written then no one else would too, would they?

Thirdly, I think its been enough time now to carry on writing here without certain people reading up on my life. I don't want to know if they are, so if you know that I no longer speak to you and you are reading this now, then I do not want to know. Do not contact me, let me have this please, it means a lot, but I want to write and wont feel like writing here if you comment or make it known that you are still about. It bothers me, and after what Ive been through lately, I think I deserve at least this.

The last time I wrote was 2nd July, and I was at the false start point of a period of time I refer to as my 'recovery'...

After what can only be described as one of the most damaging and bizarre experiences of my life, I lingered at my parents, no job and no place of my own, and there's, a small flat in a hell town called Dickens Heath, was somewhere none of us wanted to be. Unhappy with their mistake, me unhappy with the cunts upstairs, we sold the flat and started renting a small house in a place called  Oakenshaw near Redditch. It's a vast improvement, and  my parents are already on the verge of buying a new house in the nicer area known as Callows Hill. I am no longer planning on moving away, until I am healthy, happy and can afford it. The last 8 weeks or so have been extremely fun and yet been extremely damaging. I have not recovered like I intended to, and the damaging effects of my experience with Steve effected me psychologically more than I thought. Certain friends became cause for my concern, with their own problems, yet I felt impotent because I couldn't be there for all of them, despite my own problems becoming more and more destructive.

During this summer I spent a lot of time bonding with Wiggy, and we went to Brighton, London and numerous nights out in Birmingham. I however let my drug problem escalate to one of it's highest points, and so I guess that with a certain amount of good comes a certain amount of bad, and the bad really did hit me hard, physically and mentally.

The bad involves a lot of rejection or feelings of rejection, and a lot of things from the past this year haunt me still, like the caring for Steve experience and the aspect of dying. Then there was the betrayals at work still poisoning my memory, losing friends from past and present, and recently, an incredibly violent sexual encounter I suffered which nearly put me in hospital and thus highlighted the ironic situation of my dysfunctional sex life. My drug problem hit a all time low when 2 weeks ago I literally passed out from not being able to function any further, due to endless days of not sleeping, drinking or eating. I lost over a stone in weight, and my hair started to fall out. Whole days, weeks have zipped by like minutes, and I've watched myself deteriorate outside and in.

Being back at home is a forced rehab. I know when things get bad because I tell my mother everything. It's going to be hard to say no to Wiggy a lot more but lack of funds and hopefully a job responsibility soon will make it easier to resist social pressures and temptations. I've been incredibly ill, due to the abuse I put myself through, the wandering around in London in the rain for 4 hours, the drugs, the dehydration. I haven't left the house much and have been in bed a lot. I am regaining my strength, and vow not to touch Mcat, or MDMA or cocaine again. I don't want to ever experience a hangover again, but I do want to smoke weed. Cigarettes are so-so. For someone with such a hunger for drugs, who can go past most people's limits, it's surprising how cigarettes seem so take or leave to me. 

My brother is back from Hong Kong, but is going back on the weekend, I got to see him a bit, and he seemed keen to help me in the research of writing screenplays, as I think this is the thing (along with acting) that is predicted as my surprising hobby that pays off at the end of the year. Something filmy anyway. I don't want to overwhelm this post now any further, so will update during the week with future plans, and other stories from the past 8 weeks, that involve an American, meeting a new yet dysfunctional guy, Greg, emotional traumas and revelations of the future!

YOUR SHAME IS NEVERENDING, JUST ONE PSYCHOLOGICAL DRAMA AFTER ANOTHER, YOU ARE GUILTY, AND HOW YOU EVER ENTERED INTO THIS WORLD: GOD ONLY KNOWS

YOUR BODY LINGERS LIKE YOUR HAND ON MY HEART

active resistance

 some of the weekend's highlights

at the tranny show

cleaning your floor with my mind

Already I'm confusing myself with the order of priority and it hasn't even been a full week. There I was saying 2 MONTHS of rest, and I'm already not bored but thirsty to start everything. I am an Aries after all, and like to get stuck into things fast. I should use some of that well earned patience I have and take a step back. I want so much from my life, and I don't feel like each day that goes by I am missing something, but I don't feel right just sitting around. I can't really go anywhere, most places I used to inhabit now are off limits and have too many bad memories and people attached to them. Like the time when I went over to my brother's off Newhall Street the day after I had to leave my job and narrowly missed bumping into Kyle and his cunt boyfriend as I turned the corner, whilst thinking 'wouldn't it be terrible if...'. I walk round this apartment feeling so angry sometimes, I feel so angry, so taken advantage of and so at a loss. I know that I need to be working out a list of things to do really, I need to be resting yet being productive. I did find that episode finally of 3rd Rock from the Sun with the bit at the fake family reunion where Sally eats the ice cream because she feels left out, I always remembered that bit for some reason. I think I just felt really sorry for her, but when I first saw it, I didn't even realise they were all aliens, so the show didn't make a full amount of sense.

Yesterday my mum bought be a Simpsons comic (yeah, go ahead and laugh) and usually I am disappointed by them but I didn't want any of the magazines from the extensive collection that WHSmiths in Sutton Coldfield has on offer. I contemplated a gay one, what with wanting to be more 'gay' and 'fit' and all but they were top shelf and next to the porn, one of the archaic reasons why I still hate Sutton, a bit like the fat woman walking through Gracechurch wearing a t-shirt with 'YOLO' on the front. The women's magazines were boring, I only ever read the international Vogues anyway, and Hunger magazine, a bi-annual which I got last year had Jessie J on the cover, which was upsetting. The trendy magazines patronise me, I don't need to be told how to be cool, because it's not my version of cool anyway. And if I want fashion and music and films, I have the internet. A photography magazine seemed pointless as I STILL don't have my camera. I considered getting Spirit and Destiny but I don't buy that for pleasure, and seeing as I already know I'm in for 'uncomfortable family times' during July (according to my year forecast in January) and seeing as I want a nice clean break from my life as it's been, a comic seemed quite appropriate. Something to cheer me up. I have been feeling very low lately.

I used to buy Simpsons comics all the time. Mostly the sketches are crap but I read them in my head in the voices of the characters and think they are funny. In London, comics were my choice of tube reading. It was easy and relaxing, as the tube made me nervous. This month it came with Haribo sours and a sticky alien catapult. I won't open it till I've moved to my own place.

I have started writing back to Sian, but am taking my time as it's a pleasure. I have got the books I want to use for research in planning my new healthy meals and diet. I have a laptop to use to write my CV and I have joined an accommodation website to advertise myself looking for a room. I have updated everything I need to really, and I feel like I want to change. I have films I want to watch and things I want to write, a body I want to change and skin I need to clear, jobs to apply for and a place to finally go to, there are new friends to be made and men to be met, confidence to be built, connections to be created. I just need to prioritise. I feel overwhelmed, and to top it off I feel rough still. I just need to relax and calm down. These posts are so bland with no photos. But I haven't been taking any. I have the moodboard for August, which I'm hoping to post soon on FR. It's all about going back to basics and reconciling myself with normal stuff, closing in the distance I put between myself and 'normal' style, to bring myself back down to earth. But it's a way of clearing the slate in that field, so I can change properly in the future. I want to change everything about myself, but still be myself, if that makes sense. I want to be a better, happier, healthier and nicer person, it's overwhelming but I want to try now.

you manly, you

All things change for a reason. Sometimes people push the change. I'm fine with that if it's beneficial to me, to which it has been. My life has resumed a new and interesting level of normality and I am getting on with it, and with patient gusto, and with no high expectations.

Last week saw me attend to duties of my usual caring variety and a routine that I have now become fully accustomed to. A night in on Summer Solstice brought salad and croissant pudding. The evening was summery and beautiful and I made up for the loss of dancing round a tree half naked with Mark by watching 'Panic Room'.

Earlier in the day I went on an extremely disappointing date with a guy whom I had exchanged long detailed and meaningful messages with on OK Cupid, the only dating website that I have any faith in. I pretended to be going on a date with Bethan, just because, regarding past situations, it was easier to lie about who I was with and what I was doing as to not stir jealousy triggered behaviour to which I have no control over how to respond to. I could do as I've been told and just 'be honest' but where has that ever got me in this situation? Nowhere good. The irony of it is, my lies are revealed through clever social media sleuthing, introduced by myself.

The person I met was one of those whose online persona did not match the actual person. Online, the person engaged at length with me, and had opinions and interests that excited me, someone near enough my age with something decent to talk about. He was from China and grew up in New Zealand so I figured he would have a lot to tell about his childhood and family. Instead he was awkward, and one worded, never asked me anything, not even the same questions after I asked them first. At first I thought he was painfully shy, but the shyness seemed to evolve into more of a condescending smugness. I am not complaining though, I have just remembered now as I write, how much I enjoyed writing about my dates, especially the bad ones.

That's not to say that I enjoy bad situations just because I know I'll be able to write about them later. I think I was disappointed because it has simply been so long since I met someone and I was so excited. We'd been in contact for a while and I truly thought that after my current situation of the moment had passed that I would have someone to share my time with. How wrong I was. During my weekend alone a week or so ago, I was bored and wanted to go on ChatRoulette as I have an obsession with Americans. But more times than not on Chatroulette you'd just meet vile people, usually boring American female types who think everything outside the Abercrombie and Fitch rota is weird, and I wanted to talk to Americans who were male and gay so I did a search and ended up chatting on a special roulette for gay guys which had an option to just select America. I ended up meeting a guy called Galen, a violinist from North Carolina who happens to be travelling to Europe at the end of the summer. Talking to him was a comfort and made me realise how desperately I just want to get out, travel and meet people, but to especially meet guys like him. It's so frustrating knowing that it's not you that's the problem, it's the place you're in and the people who fester in it.

On Saturday I had arranged to go to Sammi's mum's birthday party and had a great time getting to finally meet more members of her family. I ended up having everything justified to myself. Sunday morning was condemnation, an awful collection of things, and unforgiving doom caught in the rain. The colour had drained out of the day and every person in it, and I experienced an emotion that I have never felt before, and for which I struggle to put my finger on.

Even though I shiver when he calls my name, still I can't reveal myself to a real sorrow. Every day I come home late and I look away, staring at a screen with plans to change tomorrow. I urge to say what he needs to know, but I can't explain, I've a loss for words.

Monday was spent thinking and sleeping. I was dreading the moving of all my life, the confrontation and the use of excess energy to move stacks of magazines and books. Luckily it was easy, and my belongings had been kindly organised for me. I felt touched by this actually, though I think maybe it was also a sign of how urgent it was to expel me. For whatever reason, I was in and out in a shot and all I need to get back now is my camera, my only prized possession, my pride and joy.

I carried on with a stressful and weirdly emotional 'first day of the rest of my life'. I went through an emotional process beginning with the new and scary emotion which I have no name for. I have since gone on from despair and anger to appreciation and love and yet anger creeps back quickly whilst I verbally confirm each detail that as embittered me. It's a way to accept something and then move on, I don't succumb to the unhealthy habit of dwelling on the unfortunate. I bought Paris and Sammi flowers and cakes and a card to say thank you for being great friends to me, for supporting me and understanding that sometimes we are all plagued. And they have caught me when I fell. One of the many things I've learnt from this experience is the importance of a friendship that is real and solid. Maybe I wasn't a good friend to some, but I have my reasons and I think deep down, no matter how much we hate to admit it, those reasons are valid.

Today however felt like the real first day. A fresh new haircut, and plans to become healthy and put on weight and develop muscle, an active and attractive lifestyle, and freedom from the shackles of my vices and addictions, and the full effort to embrace the art of moderation. Appreciation for the things that my situation has since made me forget about, and the appreciation for things that I simply over time ceased to notice, like reading and blogs, learning, and actually reading my email updates, and celebrations and seasons. I just discovered a shop near my parents that stock every possible Yankee Candle fragrance. I feel like I am in rehab, writing letters to friends, clearing out old or bad memories, making space for the new, updating the profiles, the places, the status, the way to go, changing the direction to up, and forward, indulging in whats nice and looking to what's good, involved in crafts and not taking the little things for granted, looking at the details and eating healthful food. Who knows, I might crochet a blanket. In fact, I think I will. Catching up with friends, near and far. Skyping with Galen while his music mixes with mine, watching him move and go about his room, a comfort in the form of a virtual postage stamp in the right top corner, a reassuringly blurred image. And also to write... my blogs, my stories... I think without having the freedom to write, I would go insane.

Tonight I will watch the Chinese film 'Happy Together'. After finally watching the end of Misery, a somewhat reversed role of a possible prophetic consequence I only feared in my worst nightmare, I have decided to enjoy a film that I only got to enjoy once and tonight it will signify the beginning. I shall leave you on that note, and I shall wish you a good evening. X.

remembering You / Me

I'm in the long-winded process of writing a post about the gay porn industry and certain pop cultural references of the 80s, and it's important relevance to one other and also funnily my future. However it has become an extensive essay and has taken me days to edit and fix because it's a touchy subject and I think that it's important that I put down what I want to say in the best possible way without people assuming that I am either going to run off and become a prostitute or that I am going to end up a crack addict and shoot myself in the head. I'm just thinking out loud remember.

I really want to write about my week though for the sake of writing because I have been reading a few other personal blogs that I follow and I feel suddenly inspired. The only thing missing really are things to write about that have photos to accompany. Last weekend Steve was still in hospital. Very late on the Saturday night, after I had finished cleaning and sorting out the flat for his return, I was convinced by Sammi to join her for drinking games at a friend's house on Chester Road. Monday, we had Steve return and it was great. I think he was impressed with the new arrangement of his home. Things are less cluttered and easier to clean.

I have a lot in my mind to write about, and I am really just writing this post to remind myself. I still have to edit the post I'm working on and I want to write about my plans on Steve's legacy, Steve's story and what it's like to be looking after someone with cancer. In no way do I want to turn into a cancer motivational speaker, but it's something I want to write about here, not focusing on cancer as such but just the plain fact of someone dying from a terminal illness. It has created a lot of scary conflict in my mind. Perhaps writing in here will help me. I sometimes stop and wonder what the hell I am going to do, and I really can only imagine what his mother and family, and what he himself must be looking to now. Sometimes it rouses emotions so new and unsettling I feel like I am going to be sick.

I want to write about how it might of changed me. I find myself so different, so desensitised by trivial problems that normal people suffer daily, yet I am developing a huge sympathy for loss of life, and I think it's creating a meaningful structure to my life. I don't want to turn dismissive on people's problems, but at the moment I can't relate to them. I also want to write, one day in the future, of the impending build up of responsibility, the tremendous pressure and the complexities of the situation I am in regarding caring for Steve, emotionally, morally and psychologically. I want to talk about each friend I have, and where they stand with me in my mind during this time, and how they have helped, and how I have began to understand their personality, their character through introducing them to Steve, like presenting a king with goods from afar. I want to be frank, and explicit, and I want to be honest to myself. I will write it all down during this year. I will hopefully continue to flourish the blog with more of the usual updates of what I am up to, and more photos. But I need to remember about all I want to write, and their contexts. Don't let me forget.

homework

Somewhere between hopelessness and optimism lies my life. And it seesaws up and down between confliction and confidence neurotically, never settling in the middle. Next to being addicted to any drug that is available to me, I have finally ran out of money. I still find myself haunted by the betrayal that resulted in me losing my job, and my still receiving of news both voluntarily and by chance of the leisure and happiness of my ex boyfriends and their new boyfriends, whilst my old boss, who is also a close friend, openly socialises with the the very person who pushed me out and replaced me. I often wonder, which is worse? I try to fend off cabin fever with writing my new fashion blog but find myself disheartened. And now I look at my project critically and I feel like a joke.

It's this utter contempt that I have for the world that reassures me. I may be one of a few like minded people but I never feel lonely or isolated. I used to feel like an alien on my own planet but now I just think that most people are stupid, or greedy, and always usually both.

Sometimes, I find myself staring into space, wondering what bollocks Kyle spends the new salary that was once mine on. As I scrape together copper to pay for drugs just to get me through, a walking I.O.U, I see him sitting there, a thin layer or flubber stretched over an awkward structure of faggot, pasty and unforgiving, playing some waste of life computer game wearing a bag designed for Japanese pre-schoolers. And I just want to smash my head into the wall.

 When the much anticipated and expected breakdown arrived last week, overdue and pushed forward, trying to keep my head above water became increasingly difficult when I caught glimpses of myself sweating and gurning with Kyle and that cunt Cassie stuck in my head, discreetly celebrating a victory with ugly knowing glances and twatty high-fives. If anything it's them that pushed me over the edge. And I curse them both.

However the best revenge is success and although Cassie is no match to me, she's that much of a cunt, my naturally shallow reassurance regarding Kyle is simple: he is ugly. I am not.

a group of crows is called a 'murder'

It's been a nice week for a number of reasons involving catching up with family, helping Steve's mother with shopping and going for coffee and planning the whole life rehaul thing for myself and my own mother. Things are nice here and calm and Steve and I are enjoying each day in the ways we usually do, and I have been feeling that I am a lot more of a better carer, but always first and foremost Steve's best friend, fulfilling every duty a best friend does and fending off the fake fair-weathered friends who should know better. They're old enough. 

Tuesday was a dull day and it rained, I got my act together and made a start on the last bit of stuff we're trying to flog. I have decided to not sell the Victorian clock on the mantel piece and I got to hear it chime and I found it enchanting. We watched the programs about Anne Boleyn and Thomas Cromwell and watched a really entertaining episode of Come Dine with Me. One thing I noticed about the Anne Boleyn documentary was that female historians dress really nicely and wear interesting jewellery. The female historians also took the side in the argument that she was framed for all the things she was accused of, and I wish I could have an opinion on what really happened too, but it's history and the fact is none of us were there, none of us will ever know the truth so I just can't decide when so many different scenarios could be plausible.

On Wednesday we had our delivery of Perry Barr's finest oregano, and smoked and watched The Kings Speech, a film about King George VI played by Colin Firth. The film focuses on how the king had to cope with a stammer, and sees a guy called Lionel Logue, an Australian speech therapist played by Geoffrey Rush. The men become friends as they work together, and after his brother abdicates the throne, the new King relies on Logue to help him make his first wartime radio broadcast on Britain's declaration of war to Germany. It got me thinking about how well spoken people were those days, and I love Helena Bonham Carter. I want to make more of an effort with pronunciation, and believe old fashioned etiquette, intelligence and speech are equally endearing features as an interesting outfit of clothes can be sometimes these days.

We watched a film directly after called W.E, which was interesting and at times confusing, leaving me thinking I was watching the Kings Speech still as characters from that were depicted in W.E. I found it a really strange film, ready to be disliked because it was made by Madonna. Anything Madonna post-circa 2001 is a kiss of death. The film however is I admit a good effort, I just found it just that little bit too perfect, too much. I never really found the story of Wallis Simpson historically interesting either. I didn't feel sorry for those people at all, and the film begged sympathy. I don't have sympathy for people's woes in love. I'm sorry.

Wednesday had me up early, dressed up nicely and went with Steve's mother to Sutton to get the food shopping, and to have a coffee. It's very important I get to go out like that, and also important for me to spend time alone with Steve's mother, as I will be supportive of her in the future. I let the age gap which would instinctively have you behaving differently effect how I was with her. I felt it was good to be open and honest about who I am and my life, and to someone older than my own parents, it's great to not have them disapprove or give me unwanted advice. She is just as much of a friend now than any of my others, and I have an equally good time with her than I would with say, Daisy or Paris or whoever. We went to Costa, then went to Smiths and I talked about magazines. I am not really fond of English magazines anymore.

I dropped into the House of Frazer because I came up with the idea of what to give Emma for her birthday at the end of the month. Naturally, I have been invited out for cocktails, and in a bar environment I think it's always awkward when you have to hold onto a big present or a gift bag whilst your getting drunk. So I am getting her a Chanel lipstick, a nice traditional red, which she can pop into her handbag. It's a nice touch, and there's probably someone somewhere who has quoted how every woman must have a Chanel lipstick. The colour I am getting her is called 'Gabrielle'. If she doesn't wear it, at least it will look good on a dressing table (preferably next to a bottle of Chanel No5).

On Thursday I saw my mother who is much better and she told me lots of interesting things I am not allowed to talk about. I told her that soon everything will be fine and OK and that I will eventually live with her and dad if the arrangement is suitable and if she chooses a location not completely remote. I saw my nan and grandad, my cousins and aunt and uncle. I got to talk to everyone, and was talking to Julie about Adrian and about caring, having a lot to talk about and have in common with because she cares for Adrian properly now. She said she'd come and see me, so I am looking forward to that. Everyone still talking about Florida which makes me jealous and they still go back to our old villa at Sunset Lakes. Nan told me that she has a load of gay friends over there. How is it she gets to meet gay American men and I don't? I want to save up so I can go there and not come back, marry myself off or something, but I also really want to splash out this year on a new coat for winter. I want to spend more on the one that has lasted me the past 2 years, and it cost me £300. I am thinking about spending around £900-£1000 this year. I would have to gradually save the money up each month (200 at a time) as of now, and live at home without paying rent, saving money. Or I could get a boyfriend and live at his free of charge without him realising, in the airing cupboard or something.

Thursday evening was lovely as Bethan and Arran came over for dinner and we ended up getting drunk and then we had a Tramadol sesh which involved me not being able to move properly. I renamed tramadol 'tranny doll'. It makes me feel woozy, like a bad tranny at the end of the night, wobbling and wondering whether to go to the after club or just to go home alone, like usual.

deadbeat summer

 Paris' birthday card from Me and Steve

When I last posted, a week ago, I addressed the problem of my mother being in hospital and was really just reassuring myself instead of updating an invisible audience. If there is anyone reading on a regular basis who may of struck up a fictional yet genuine concern for the well being of my mother, I can safely inform you that apart from another scare in the week which acted as a blessing in disguise, my mum is now much better. I spoke with her on the phone however and discussed that soon, we will assess our lifestyles together, and I will eventually clean myself up from my 'addictions'.

On the Sunday last weekend Daisy came over and she took some photos. I hadn't slept for 48 hours, and experienced an almost nervous panic before she arrived, leading me into thinking that I had to address some severe drug problem, like a heroin addict meeting up with their parents for the day, hiding their dirty addiction, Daisy being that higher being, an authorative mom figure arriving with a black bag of high-tech professional photographic equipment.

I cannot believe how great Daisy's photographs were, and it really hit home how I not only miss my Leica, but want a new camera and computer myself. It also reminded me how inexperienced I actually am with photography, especially the technical side, yet I am reassured with the knowledge that I am asking all the right questions. Daisy is the perfect person to ask said questions and to discuss this, along with other subjects, and has always an opinion I consider highly. Naturally I consider a lot of opinions, and like to hear about what everyone thinks, the difference with Daisy's is that her opinions are often based on fact and I can count hers to be reliable.

 These are by Daisy. Mum would probably like the first one, but not the second

The photo's she has taken are for my new fashion blog I started recently. She won't be taking the photos permanently, this was just a very kind gesture and I was so psyched to be able to post something finally after waiting so long, with excellent quality photos that I love. I intend to take a lot of the photos myself, though I want to work with other people, maybe encourage some friends to take up photography as a hobby, and who knows, maybe someone might discover a hidden talent. In the same way, I want to take photos of other people for the blog in the future, getting good looking friends to model for me to show my photo skills and visual on style. For now I am enjoying a slow, basic and simple start, addressing the bare bones of how I think on how to dress. I think there is a real theory behind it all and want to explore that, and prove that fashion is more than a shallow fancy or a multi billion industry, that it can be something intelligently creative and life effecting.

 In a hiding place

The blog is called Fashion Retribution - almost like a pay back to all the terribly dressed people I have had inflicted onto me, the hundreds of fashion blogs for men pushing the same bollocks, and this is like a punishment, what I am doing, what I am showing, for people like that. Its not that I need the punishment myself, or even that I am doleing it out, though I've had my fair share of disillusions, but maybe someone might read it and think afterwards that they don't need to wear a fucking dickie bow or go without socks with their shoes to look 'good' in, say, the street, or a nightclub.

At the Burning and Birthday party

Apart from patiently and methodically writing that I have spent the week turning the living room of Steve's flat into my little 'bedsit', with stuff everywhere, watching '3rd Rock From the Sun' and getting fashion inspirations from all sorts of different places. I soon turned the room back into it's original state again as on the spectrum of cleanliness, organization and being tidy, Steve and I are polar opposites, and what's normal to him is obsessive compulsive to me. But I do appreciate the tidy more now that it's done... last night he got to sit in the living room for what seemed like the first time all week and we watched 'Falling Down' and Simpsons movie. 'Falling Down' is one of the best films I think of all time, and is probably Michael Douglas' best performance, but that's just my opinion. I'm not a massive fan of him, in fact, right now I can't think of anything else he's in off the top of my head, but I am a bit stoned. Which is good because I need to lower the stress levels. Finishing the week off with a film where the main antagonist is the archetypal white angry male on a spree of violence across Los Angeles in the early 90s really was the approriate touch to end on. And what I learned from Marge in the Simpsons movie about anger is that like a woman, I can potentially just hold on to it.

"Now you're gonna die, wearing that silly little hat. How does it feel?"

Though this has nothing to do with Steve. I get cabin feverish, who wouldn't? It's natural to go a bit crazy sometimes, and cannabis does help to chill me out and really open up my brain. There's so much in there, I need to dispose of it somehow. Steve is never a burden to me, but an inspiration, and I feel his influences have really opened up my intelligence and maturity as I feel I have been taught of the enthusiasm and the pleasure of all history, architecture, design, interiors, nature, flowers, and has as a result influenced me on a fashion level, creating a raw and organic reference of inspiration to how I am currently dressing. I have nothing but thanks and appreciation, because now I appreciate things on a deeper level and from a historical point of view. He's really been a very stylish influence to have.

a silly hat

He has recently started having headaches which have been caused by cancer travelling from it's main mother ship and killing off the other areas of the body, and I learnt it can travel up the spinal cord and effect the brain, so Steve has these occasional blindingly excrutiating headaches and needs me to help him everywhere. I've encouraged him to not stop using and exercising his brain, and through periods of release with smoking weed, I get him to write. He's writing his own blog, and we wrote some funny poetry. He used to have a bell to ring when he needed me, but we replaced it with a plush cuddly toy bird, a blue-tit, that tweets loudly when you squeeze it. It was a present from Evil Lizzy.


I was interupted last night though not by the bell or tit, but by my phone ringing excessively. I hate to admit it but where a lot of my anger was triggered this week was from people in contact with me on my phone, and I'm letting it get to me because I feel the more I ignore people despite the situations im facing, the more likely they are going to insult me and leave me. Though its not abandonement I am worried for, it's the harsh words and the guilt I would feel. I sometimes get so annoyed with certain friends, mainly the ones who aren't that close and who I never see that often anymore and who never listen and don't understand and think that I can just drop everything to get drunk and listen to them repeat themselves on something trivial like being ugly or having boyfriend problems... people who's main conversation topic is their relationship or lack of and therefore life mission to obtain one... I think it's rude that I sit there over coffee and listen to all the dates and bollocks you line up for yourself and have the manners to remember the mundanity you ooze out because hey, isnt that the fucking point?-but for you to completely forget that my time is entirely consumed looking after a friend who is terminally ill and that in fact it's a simple thing to fucking remember, and then to insult me to ask me if I have 'a new man', really makes me wonder.

Bethan ringing me was comical though, because I didn't answer, but I had forgotten that I had changed my phone ring to this spooky alien ghost jingle and it went off right next to my head while I was just gaining access to that deep sleepy dreamy land. It scared the shit out of me.

Anyway apart from all that, I have been listening to a lot of music, looking for new stuff but ended up listening to songs from the list I made 6 months ago that summed up the songs of last year. I was in the kitchen and that song 'somebody i used to know' came on. If it wasn't for my ex, i'd never listen to it like I did the whole way through. I don't even like it: it's the typical Urban Outfitters love tripe, it's like a 'broken heart' wrapped in a plaid Hollister shirt under an Ikea bed next to a copy of Nylon Guys. But it got me thinking because it reminded me of my ex so bad before, it would send me into a panic but I didn't feel anything, and I thought that was good going. But then I realised it was 2 years ago, not 1 year, like I initially thought in my stoned haze there in the kitchen, that I was with someone properly and all that shit began. Time really has gone by two quick yet there is actually such a lot of change to show for it.

 

I started thinking about how I now feel about relationships and because of what I specifically went through, not that it was any more dramatic or pathetic as anyone else's, I was offered the opportunity, maybe subconciously to change my attitude towards that supposedly big part of an adult human's life in a way that was acceptable yet completely different. You could argue that now I may have become bitter, but I don't spit at other people's relationships if they are good. If they are bad I don't acknowledge it to myself either in that way, I don't need reassurance or even status alone to being single, but I realise how much better from looking at other people's bad relationships that it is to not be involved at all if there is at least one fatal flaw in the connection. I just wish I had realised whatever it is I realised 10 years ago. If I had, ironically I'd probably be with someone but be completely unaware that it is supposed to be a specific feature of my life.

I feel now there is a bigger life out there for me, and as much as I love playing home owner here at Steve's, deep down I am anxious to meet people and experience things and do things and go places, rather than for the reason to meet people to be known, but to learn more about anything. That way a life connection to a guy will present itself to me, and unknowingly I will start something that would last forever, without even realising it.

 Another by Daisy. How do you reference other people's work? with a link or something?

five seconds to your heart

My mother had a heart attack, a mild one, but an attack all the same, and while she stays over at City Hospital tonight, I rushed back to nothing but an emergency to stop thinking and panicking. So to take my mind off things I will write here, because whats this blog for if for not getting my thoughts and and clarifying my mind? As the space coyote once said, 'clarity is the path to inner peace'.

kiss you off

Whilst hanging out in hallucinogenic landscapes the coyote delivers a wise message. To stop the mind from cluttering and confusing you need to step back and wipe the page clean and just put you and the problem on the page alone, to solve and then move forward.

Yeah, I could be pitying the situation and think why me? shouting nooo out the window and holding my cranium in my hands, heavy and sorrowful. I could cyber stalk my ex boyfriends and think 'that could of been me', but that's just stupid. Why would I be letting the unnecessary clutter of life's pointless problems spill out onto the action plan of a problem I desperately need to solve?

My mother isn't some chain smoking, alcoholic beached whale with a penchant for deep fried battered hot dogs, though I admit her diet is not balanced and she does absolutely no exercise, I have remade it my mission to save her. I want to put her on a specific diet similar to mine (after of course I've kicked my sugar addiction) and spend time exercising with her so her little heart can expand freely without something blocking it again.

 

severe bob

So now, thanks to you, am thinking positively because if i was to worry and be negative the energy could have an undesirable effect on the situation and I believe positive energy can heal, so I need to show her the face of change and that it smiles and is proactive in making things all better again.

Get well soon Mother!

you're still not in your own world

i have made the concious serious decision to improve my health today. i will make the following small changes to my lifestyle

exercise by doing x10 sit ups and press ups a day to build up stamina and to tone my muscles and to go swimming because its very good for you and i want to buy some new swimming trunks. I want to also learn and practice some basic massage. i want to eat more chicken, less red meat and cut out all sugar and caffeine and complex carbs with the exception of fridays which will bring us pizza and milkshake. you have to be able to enjoy yourself once a week. I will have a big healthy breakfast each day. Instead of sugary cups of tea and sugary juice I will have water and herbal tea with honey and smoothies in the morning. along with the exercise and slight change in diet I want to concentrate on maintaining my self as I have a tendency to 'let myself go'. And then to top off the change I am going to do something to help my mind, so I am going to involve myself more in my new 'hobby' and read my tarot more.

I have got Steve really psyched about photography and we have been taking photos all weekend. I am impressed. We also spent a lot of time relieving pain, and throwing away stuff.

Last week was kind of depressing by default. It rained not that I noticed that much at the time but I went to see Uncle Adrian and Lynne Lawerence at good hope , and it was depressing. I am glad that I am able to enable Steve to die in the luxury of his own home. Lynne wasn't even awake, it was very distressing. I have been also been experiencing slight self pity which is stupid and ridiculous and doesn't make any sense. I saw Greg on Wednesday and got horrifically drunk, ending up fighting with some down and out mess drinker like a lout. Why am I so angry.

Anyway I am now motivated and productive so no more of that. I am going to enjoy this week. I still know how to have fun and there is a part of me that I am simply not going to allow to fade.

floor to floor

my camera is still being repaired so I am becoming ever more frustrated without now I've set up my new fashion blog as I can't post anything without decent photos. I tried with some pictures taken on my phone and it just doesn't cut it. earlier, i helped steve sort out all his clothes, of which he had many, and discovered a number of things that I really like and am looking forward to wear, such as a pair of vintage 1940s trousers which are the exact fit that I am looking for but is not available anywhere affordable, and some shirts and stuff. So because of that I want to post even more. I'm not sure what the intention is with the fashion blog though it would be nice to make money off it (especially now I am unemployed). I feel differently about it compared to the lame attempt I made a few years ago. HAving done my research I realised before that I was doing it all for the wrong reasons, and making all the main mistakes. I'm optimistic with this attempt as I have improved my writing style, and it's also a place to exhibit my photography skills I apparently have, as well as my styling and editorial ideas.

anyway thats all i'm going to say on that. I've moved out of Pussy Palace, for financial and carer reasons. Whats the point in paying for a room (a  lot as well) that I am literally never in? I loaned my furniture to Sammi and am going to stay with steve to ensure maximum care and comfort (for him).

not a lot else has happened. I saw Hayley and my brother yesterday, and had a really nice time catching up with Hayley.

Without a job my life is pretty easy...So I don't have a hell of a lot to say. Oh we watched Dont Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead earlier. that always makes me feel like I want to lie my way into a job that I'm not qualified for.