Monthly Archives: December 2006
I hope you’re all having an enjoyable festive season. I am currently far removed from my usual haunt en familie and so far no belittling has taken place nor any shouting. However, I have one more day here so you never know.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder of course so when I have not been eating or trying to stay detached from whatever my Dad is saying or doing to annoy me I have been pondering MW#1. Well, more precisely the conversation I should have had when I last saw him.
As per usual I found it very difficult to get any sleep; this time it was due to too much caffeine in my veins and too much stimulation of my brain by the sleeping creature next to me. I got up at 6.30am to splash some water in my face and eat some toothpaste to try and get myself together before crawling back under the covers and making a final attempt to relax and drift off.
As I wearily reinserted myself into the warmth MW#1 pulled me into him, kissed the back of my neck and asked me if I was okay. I said I was “fine” and that I was “just mental” and in reply I got an “aww” and another kiss. In the film of my life this is how it should have gone:
MW#1 would be portrayed by Russell Crowe and I would be portrayed by Thora Birch.
MW#1:Are you okay?
Me: Yes… no… I’m fed up.
Fed up? Why?
I’m just tired…
Couldn’t get any sleep… thinking too much…
Ugh… I’m just grumpy ‘cos I can’t sleep… (rolls onto elbow) and like you spent a large proportion of last night waxing lyrical over your exes and all the other women you could see… you didn’t have a kind word to say to me… and I made effort too and you didn’t notice… but now you’re kissing me lots, and it’s confusing…
I’m sorry… really…
That’s okay… you just need to understand that it’s actually quite hurtful to sit there and hear you praise others when I have no security whatsoever. If I knew you truly cared for me and that you wanted to be with me I wouldn’t need to worry as I’d know that whilst you might brag and eye up everyone else at the end of the evening you’d be coming home with me because I was what you wanted. But I don’t know that, do I? It’s not even as simple as me being jealous or being pissed off ‘cos you didn’t compliment me- Every time I see you I have to keep myself bound up inside because I don’t know what I am to you. I can’t initiate anything, I can’t have reasonable expectations of behaviour because as far as I know, I am nothing to you. I would like to think I am important but spending months and months waiting for something that at the end of the day you might decide you can’t be bothered with is beginning upset me. This is a problem, you see- I have invested a lot because I care but I have very little chance of reciprocation- You always have the upper hand.
Mr Crowe would then roll over and look pained with inner torments whilst he stares at the ceiling thinking about how he cares deeply and would not want to lose his fuzzily-haired analytical weirdo but is scared to move out of his comfortable non-committal lifestyle and step up to the challenge. Ms. Birch (facing away from Crowe) would lie curled up on her side channeling how isolated she feels as she is forced to remain detached because he can’t commit to being with her and she deals with the pain of non-committal and the possibility of losing him the only way she knows how to- detachment and hugging Patrick tightly.
It would be a psychological portrait of people in their mid/late-twenties (Crowe’s been in a time machine) struggling to reach out to each other and emotionally connect/a chick-flick.
Anyway, that’s what I should have said. Whatever.
I’m tired, feeling *particularly* unenthused about the next few days and wish I could crawl into a hole in the ground and curl up for the rest of the Winter. Perhaps I could be Dr. Maturin’s assistant for a while? Might do me some good.
On an even sadder, even more pathetic note, I made myself go into the new Apple store in Manchester a few days ago “for a laugh” and after spending approximately five minutes wandering through I felt physically sick. Seriously. Queasy. Psychosomatic medicine at it’s greatest. Woo.
I hope you all have an enjoyable few days leading up to New Year’s Eve and that the night of horror in question passes happily for you all. Love you lots…
I spent the longest night of the year lying awake next to the happily sleeping form of MW#1; it was a long night indeed…
I lie there and I try to switch off and sleep but just end up thinking about things when sleep does not arrive. I feel so hopeless.
Put iPod in blender. Switch on. See what happens.
YouTube: Will It Blend?
Why The iPod Sucks: A Contrarian View of iPod and Apple
More Will It Blend videos
NSFW: Wrestler’s face meets metal ladder at high speed Joey Mercury aftermath
American whistleblows on arms dealing whilst in Iraq; is kidnapped by colleagues; is liberated by Special Forces; is taken to embassy where he is fed and debriefed before he is pushed over the line of demarcation and taken hostage by the US Army; is set free after three months of torture by compatriots.
NYTimes: Former US Detainee in Iraq Recalls Torment
I am currently happily devouring The God Delusion by the esteemable Richard Dawkins… Watch Part 1 and Part 2 of his Channel Four documentary on Googlevideo
Pretty: we*heart*prints [via]
NSFW: A round up of all the Kinky Knitting patterns to be found [via]
Roses are #FF0000
Violets are #0000FF
All my base
Are belong to you
I’ve sobered up now…
An mp3 courtesy of the artist that really should be a must own:
Bill Withers – I Can’t Write Left-handed
It was written as a comment on Vietnam, the nature of man vs. man and of course is pertinent in an all-too-horribly contemporary way. It’s a bit of a downer of a song, but is beautiful… the background vocals, sparse guitar and the wonderful voice of Mr Withers make for an excellent combination. It was used on Demons by Norman Cook. I think the Live at Carnegie Hall album may have to be purchased after Christmas- A 9 minute version of Use Me? You *know* it’s gonna be good…
Hype Machine Bill Withers
So had excellent graduation number two: Parentals arrived on time; I didn’t fall over whilst going up to the podium although they did mispronounce my name; I got to see many coursemates and got to chat with them about how awful kid’s behaviour is and how they do no teaching; my tutor raved about how good I was to my Parentals… Like my course I actually enjoyed my day this time.
Wondrous lunch at London Street Brasserie (lobster chowder to start, a gorgeous main of venison, haggis and spinach with figs, with chocolate fondant for dessert and my first experience of calvados as a digestif) before coming back to Caversham Princess’s to Patrick and my blanket to send a overly merry text to MW#1 telling him that I find his manfur scary but inexplicably lovely and that he smells good (*slightly* embarrassing)…
A good day (apart from my texting, obviously)
Graduation number two tomorrow. Joyous. Will be good to see all my gainfully employed coursemates however and my parental units are paying for lunch. Proper joyous.
I’m currently nursing a strange desire to go out tomorrow evening dressed slightly punk chick in my new striped stockings, new skull and crossbones shirt, the shortest skirt I own and my trusty pirate boots. Oh and the Greatest Underwear of All Time underneath. Sadly, as i’m sorely lacking an available target to inflict myself upon I’ve a feeling i’ll be spending the evening at Caversham Princess’s. Maybe i’ll hoover my room or something.
As we all know, I’m all about the strange desires.
Of course, the only reason i’m feeling such perverted fashion lusts is because i’ve been so close to yet so far removed from getting some action, and wearing said hi-larious getup would almost certainly get me some. Unfortunately, I can’t just get me some from anyone, and my current supplier of choice seems markedly disinterested, which leaves me blue. I’ll be peeling all the labels off all the bottles I can lay my hands on… sigh.
Really interesting article from Science News on the development of psychopaths and the growth of diagnostic tools being used to lock them up for life or execute them.
Science News: The Predator’s Gaze
Updated: I’ll have to control myself until Thursday before venturing out in my ridiculous getup… if implosion does not occur it will be a miracle (just in time for Christmas woo)
Excellent selection of music to be had at X-Y-Z-Cosmonaut’s CosmoBlog, including amongst other gems the surprisingly good Deep Throat Anthology Parts I & II
This evening I am warm and fuzzy and have a nice smooth nose and I think I smell particularly delectable courtesy of a half-hour soak in my favourite rose and geranium-scented bath foam.
I have had filthy thoughts on-and-off about MW#1 for hours… I feel fairly disgusted with myself for thinking about him… I think I am pathetic and weak for doing so. I’m tired. Restraining myself and not letting shit get to me, shouting, being “on” all day… nothing particularly horrendous but just uber tired by it all.
A student insinuated that I picked on him when I kept him in over lunch for doing fuck all work because he was black- I said lazyness knows no skin colour barrier and that he should stop calling himself a nigga, it’s demeaning and we’re in the suburbs of Berkshire, not the heart of Compton (Iz u dizzy, blak???); a couple of threats of violence against me were then made by the same disgruntled student; kids absconded from my classroom. All joyous. I’m going to make all haste to crawl under the duvet and my blanket and hug Patrick tightly and hopefully drift off easily…
YouTube: Aimee Mann – Save Me [via]
I wish I was in Monterey at the moment… they’ve got themselves another White shark in the Outer Bay exhibit. I’d like to pay a return visit there anyway; I love aquariums and MBayAq is probably my favourite of all I have visited. Plus, they’ve got a White shark for fucks sake. Eeee.
Of course, this is obviously bad in that they are becoming endangered and they tend to be fairly fragile in captivity, but whatever, it’s just really cool. When I go to aquaria and zoos I am always super excitable; I make lots of “ooooh”s and “eeeee”s when confronted with particularly interesting creatures. Oh, except spiders. I go “aaaakkkkkk” if I get near those. I tend to speed walk past them. And scorpions too. And horseshoe crabs. Ik.
Much to the undoubted embarrassment of whoever was chaperoning me I probably would bounce up and down (along with the 5 year-old boys) in front of the ginormous window with a huge grin on my face and point at the shark and go “Look! Look! It’s a White Shark!” The other person would roll their eyes and go “Yes, Monky. It’s a White Shark. I can see that. And look here Monky, it says on the little information label- White Shark” Secretly of course they would be busy being excited too.
Play spot Mr Whitey on the Outer Bay webcam
History of White Sharks in captivity
Went for a fare-thee-well visit to see Leia Ewok Village and Woods, Tiger this evening before they set off on their Antipodean odyssey; it was muy excellentay to see them both and have a good chinwag.
I will greatly miss the both of them; I am sure however they will have a fabulous time and if Leia can just stay clear of the giant vampire bats and Chironex fleckeri, i’m sure she’ll be fiiine.
I was most generously presented with an awesome book about the oceans… I am now happily geeking out looking up the deepest places in each ocean and learning about ice formation and freaky fish like the black dragonfish. Uber cool.
I also received a second copy of a piratical book, but it was all good as it had engravings in it such a scurvy dawgs being hanged from the yardarm which the previous copy was missing.
eMedicine: Jellyfish Stings
Tropical Australian Stinger Research Unit: First Aid and Safety Mmm… scarring
Behold the scary-weirdness of the Pacific Black Dragonfish in all it’s close-up glory
More cool Deep Sea Life Images from Norbert Wu
Christmas mashing up courtesy of Santastic and Santastic II corralled by djBC
Watched the fabulouso Apollo 13 this afternoon for about the fifth time; as per usual I wept during the blackout sequence as the world awaits the splashdown of the capsule and safe return of the astronauts.
I am beginning to lose hope about MW#1… things dragging on as they are is slowly crushing my spirit… discussions not had, feeling like I am the biggest fool in the world for caring. The usual.
Thing is, I can theorise as Doktor Monky ’til the cows come home, but unless I actually have a conversation with the person all this writing is ultimately pointless. I can write about how my analytical nature exists because I found out at a young age that pretty much everything my father told me was bullshit and i’ve carried through this testing for truth through to adulthood; I loved someone before and all they did was abuse my trust by sugar-coating their repeated lies.
Given that MW#1 broke my heart before with a smile on his face, I am slow to trust his compliments; I am however desperate to believe he is sincere, to believe in the goodness, and I think he is being so at the moment.
Judgemental? Well, i’ve less answer for that… given that i’m not entirely sure what he means by this I can’t work at fixing the problem. Do I judge his manwhoring? I always thought I was pretty good about that. Maybe he means I judge him on his actions in regards to me? I think I have been reasonable and have made a conscious effort to try and be as least psycho as I can possibly be; when others are judging him negatively I try and defend and explain.
Maybe he thinks I judge him because of his job (rubbish)… maybe because he is taking his time deciding (no problem as long as he keeps me updated)… maybe my mocking of him seems hurtful (banter, baby)… Do I judge every single thing he says and does? If this is the case then it’s partly down to the uncertainty of everything, partly because so much has been left unspoken. Does my writing here affect his view of me; does the analysis scare him?
All I know is that a void would be left in my life if he were not in it.
I’m just feeling terribly blue about the whole situation… I’d like things to be as sorted as they can be. Of course if this means I find he doesn’t care for me in the way I care for him then I will be so incredibly sad… he means an awful lot to me, I think he’s awesome and think he could be an excellent partner-in-crime… but not knowing how things stand is torturous- at least if he doesn’t care for me I can mourn and work on trying to move on.
I think it will be difficult to stay friends, which is a shame given that i’ve known him for so many years and we’ve shared so much, but I can only take my heart being broken so much.
Eugh… I want to curl up with MW#1 and be surrounded by his warmth… doze in his arms in the half-light of the morning after whilst he gently slides strands of my hair off my face and kisses my nose…
I thought better of keeping up that last post. It will stay removed until after I’ve spoken to the individual involved about it.
In brighter news, I finally received the underwear I ordered from Topshop; just possibly the greatest undercrackers ever created. Silky soft emerald goodness… they feel good, I feel good, all is good…
After I excitedly pulled them out of their packet and tried them on this morning I was overly pleased to find that they fit perfectly and to find that I looked Teh Hawt wearing them whilst pre-first-meal-of-the-day thin…
Pictures may follow.
After being deprived for a whole two months, I fiiiinally got me some wrestling fix courtesy of Genesis at MW#1’s and I even gots me some additional pornographic commentary- Oooh… He’s taking him from behind… He’s putting the strap on… Wow, that sure is some pressure there… repeat ad infinitum and it’s still hi-larious. Well, to me anyways. My life is generally uneventful. What can I say?
My Tubby Pirate was no more, and was wearing a rather interesting outfit consisting of white striped suit that with sleeveless shirt underneath crowned with a facial corset that kept flapping up so it looked like my Former Tubby Pirate was wearing a ruff. Such vibrant colours.
I also got to see my beloved Kurt. He looked in quite good shape, but the fact that he took around four unprotected shots to his cranium and neck was *slightly* unnerving, and he went a lil’ bit overboard on the blading. No need.
I got involved in some intense, erm, hugging with MW#1 and then he was to his bed and I was to my bus… as I walked though town I passed a queue of Wii disciples awaiting the midnight arrival of their sources of joy from Gamestation. This cheered me- the idea that no matter what there will always be geeks who will always be after the latest item and will gain inordinate amounts of pleasure from these items.
As I walked back to Caversham Princesses’ I sang along with Julie London to Sophisticated Lady in a private performance to the wind and the trees and myself… kinda sad but beautiful in the darkened lane.
My brain is filled with conflicted thoughts about MW#1. I’m like, “Dude, would you mind very much fucking my brains out at some point soon? If you could schedule that in it would be awesome.” At the same time however, i’m thinking “Erm, do you think we could talk about what is going on because i’m finding it a bit difficult dealing with you telling me the most lovely things one moment and then doing that “oh, she’s just a friend” thing the next? Much appreciated. Then if all goes well you can put some moves on me that I ain’t nevah seen… (and I can laugh like a schoolgirl)”
I was feeling really fed up and fairly rubbish at the start of the weekend; It’s ever so sad to admit, but the last day or so has been immeasurably improved by some exposure to MW#1.
I can never sleep when i’m sharing a bed- I think my brain is over-stimulated by the presence of Other, so I spend the entire night merely dozing or twitching like a spazz. When morning does eventually come I look like shite and when i’m left alone I become comatose at the nearest opportunity. So I can say that my sleep is definitely not improved by seeing him, but I certainly feel calmer… just more at ease even if things are still unresolved.
It’s the small things that brighten my day- small things that I feel very guilty for valuing and enjoying. Things like the ridiculous number of kisses he bestows upon me and how much they make me smile; the smell, warmth and textures of his skin; quiet moments when he dozes with his head resting on my chest…
I feel so bad for enjoying these things. That they are wrong and I am wrong for gaining such pleasure from them, from him.
MW#1 has mentioned that he has difficulty with my analytical approach to things. I think an example of this is when he pays me a compliment and I feel the need to dig behind it to test his veracity- for example when he has complimented me on the feel of my skin, I have to ask how it feels any different from anyone else’s and go on to state that surely everyone else’s feels like my skin and thus that he must be talking rubbish.
I find it hard to accept compliments at face value; my past experience has led me to treat compliments as somewhat dangerous and in need of further investigation. I just hope MW#1 can bear with me as I learn to accept that he might just be sincere, is not “after anything” and may genuinely care. Note- Although a promise to discuss things was extracted, I was far too busy being warm and smiley to talk.
I really do need to talk so I can understand how he feels and I can try and modify my behaviour if I feel it’s necessary. I would very much like to sort things out between us so I can begin to fully enjoy myself and get rid of the guilt I feel at every turn…
That is if the discussions have a favourable outcome.