Monthly Archives: December 2008
For some reason currently unbeknownst to myself, I am appreciating FUCK YEAH SHARKS. Rather a lot.
That is all.
Hooray… I am now just beginning two weeks of lesson-free life, and although I am not looking forward to the stress of family life and Christmas itself, the time away from work and time nesting will be most appreciated.
Due to some “perk” of the festive season I received my pay a little earlier than is usual, so for once I won’t have to worry about meeting my financial commitments towards the end of the month; it feels like I am able to take a breath.
Still no word on the Dubai front. Still I worry.
Greta Garbo in As You Desire Me from Doctor Macro
One and a half days to go…
I wish I had two weeks off that were unbroken without my having to take part in society… I’d much rather spend it hibernating, vegetating and wandering up to Lahndahn tahn to see some art and try some unaffordable things on. And getting some manfur exposure.
I want to be let alone
(How Little It Matters) How Little We Know [YouTube]
Things have improved since I took a trip to woe-is-me land the other evening; I still feel sad and dissatisfied with my lot but a viewing of Klute occupied my mind with other things for a while and late night conversing with a slightly self crippled MW#1 evened out my day a little.
I guess it’ll be this week that I find out whether he’s leaving or not. If he is leaving things are going to be very difficult- Every thought of him will be shot through with deep sadness and I don’t think i’ll be able to meet up with him without at some point dissolving into tears. He means so very much to me… this person who is barely in my life yet whose smell makes me happy and whose touch gives me such great comfort.
The person who I want to have in my life, wake up next to, be goaded into arguments by… Just be able to “be” around them, sit quietly, chart the slow yet seemingly relentless march of the manfur across his gently speckled skin…
The person who has chosen to leave rather than stay, who has hurt me so many times, whose behaviour makes me cry. He’ll move on, I’ll pass my weekends curled up under my blanket imagining the warm fabric is a flesh-and-blood embrace.
What’s stupid is that if we were in some sort of committed arrangement for a couple of years, and a couple of years after that he went for a job in Washington State- I would have none of the issues I have at the moment. That I would relocate for, because that is a future, but not to somewhere where entertainment is wandering around malls where I can’t hold the person I love’s hand because that’s obscene, where I am some sort of amusing diversion but not seen as a partner.
It’s only seven-thirty in the evening but I really want to curl up and drift off and so become oblivious to the ache in my chest and the hot tears on my face but I know i’ll just wake up in a couple of hours and feel the same.
Apparently Marcus was just walking about or something and he strained his calf, ergo no Hahnemann ogling for me today… :( And I was *so* looking forward to a bit of visual stimulation…
On the subject of stimulation, take a look at this:
Scott Caan gets in and out of his wetsuit
The broad gently defined physique, the guns, the manfur- This is my idea of greatness. It’s *exactly* the sort of thing that makes me giggle like a schoolgirl and blush with embarrassment. I get all flustered.
Sure, he could do with growing several inches but when you’re lying next to someone that doesn’t really matter that much.
I’m sure i’d be able to cope.
Further overly gratuitous images (NSFW)
window crystals by spiritedbebop [cc]
As the small islands of melting ice slid down my windscreen the other morning so tears ran down my face.
MW#1 has finally begun the interview process… It’s real now and so is the potential loss.
I want him to feel as satisfied as he can job-wise and want him to progress and move up in the world if it makes him happy; this is an honest wish but simultaneously I wish he would think of making *me* happy. In a week or two i’ll know if he’s got the job; he’s already chosen to go if he gets it.
So because of this I have been welling up or brimming over all week… What upset me enough to encourage tears in the traffic on the way to work? Hearing Run by Leona Lewis. Really. Every day when I glance at my phone I expect to receive a message from him telling me he’s got the job, and this is a pretty upsetting thought. Repeatedly.
I feel sad and quite forlorn as the nothingness rumbles beneath me and threatens to open up and run out to the horizon. I don’t feel like I don’t know what i’ll do if he goes, because I know *exactly* what i’ll do- Feel very sad for a very long time. As the months tick by the pain will lessen but the dull ache of loss in my chest will press more heavily against my heart when i’m tired or lonely.
So that would be most of the time then.
MW#1 will enjoy life in Dubai, all style and no substance, do well in his job and meet lots of new conquests. He will work hard and play hard and all will be good in his world, except for those occasional times come the small hours when he’s limited to a glass of wine and the low hum of the air-con for company. He’ll wish my inactive MSN account would say I was online, he’ll read nopoke and the posts expressing either sadness, loneliness or loss (or various combinations therein) and he’ll wish I was there to pick an argument with or have my hair to run his fingers through or feel me twitch like a twitchy thing as I curl up next to him under the sheets.
But it’s all okay, right, because he loved me… Yeah… I can comfort myself with that thought as the months and the world passes me by.
I’m just waiting to be told by him “You’ll find someone” as he hugs me goodbye (JOY); he already tells me that getting the job is not a sure thing in order to try and cheer me up. Feel bad about making me upset? Don’t do what you’re doing to make me feel upset. All those years i’ve spent caring- It really is that simple.
I need to go shower off my tear-grunged face. Hot water bottle, blanket, bed.
EDIT- Forgot to add: Cry in shower, hot water bottle, blanket, bed.
TimesOnline: Why I’d rather die than visit Dubai
“Essentially it is Las Vegas without the sex and gambling, which is Las Vegas without a point.”
I had a rather awesome weekend that was particularly excellent as it consisted of a considerable amount of alcohol alcohol alcohol… There was a smattering of food thrown in here and there but there was mainly a rather large amount of booze imbibed.
Saturday- I accompanied McCy on the annual Fun Fest that is her office Christmas party, this time held in the hotel of a Championship football club. Exotic. I followed a quite frankly excellent rum tonic and lime with dinner posh-canteen style- Salmon with marinated cucumber that had been sliced the l-o-n-g way (like thick cucumber parpadelle), lamb noise-ettes with weirdly sculptured roast potatoes and a chocolate tart of which I consumed the pastry only. Mmmm… crusty.
The “highlight” of the evening was the post-dinner trip around the corner of the stadium to a Jazz Club; I opened the doors to be confronted with a sight that filled me with awe- Green lights, ceiling dotted with shiny silver twisty things, clientèle mostly over the age of forty dressed in things that were too tight or too open for their physique. Behold.
Taking a walk from the bar to the toilets meant only a 15m or so wander, but it took on a whole new level of fun when you are significantly taller than the crowd full of lone men that turn to follow your progress. Yes, it was that kind of place, where the male-female balance was severely whacked-to-fuck. McCy and me stayed for one drink and then took a very long taxi trip back to our respective nests.
I hadn’t seen McCy in quite a while and it was excellent to see her, even if it did mean that she had to get jostled by a very over-enthusiastic father of a former mixed-martial arts fighter. Hee.
Sunday- “Lunch” with MW#1… This supposed lunchtime event turned into an entire day spent eating good food or drinking A LOT of booze. It was pretty great :)
Here’s a summary of what I can remember I drank that day:
2 x Cups of coffee
1 x Archangel
2 x Glasses red wine
1 x Caipirinha
1 x Whisky Ricky
1 x Kir Royale
1 x Amethyst
1 x Glass of water
I am sure there was more, but my memory of hours and hours of continual cocktails is not exactly crystal clear. I ended the evening warm, happy and very asleep hugging MW#1’s leg (surrogate Patrick, see) before I had to remove my very fuzzy and limpet-like self into the frigid night and skid a couple of metres down my frost-covered street in the taxi home.
Although I had a lovely day (*much* better than my fake birthday) there were of course a few idiotic moments- for instance when he told me that a team mate of his had mentioned to him that he would totally do me; I wasn’t offended by the crudeness of the remark (I know I can appear outwardly appealing when dressed up) but I felt pretty sad nonetheless. He had told his fratboy team mate that I would not be interested – I’ve evolved extremely sharp defences – but I wished he had told him that I wouldn’t be interested because I was into him or that I was “his”… Yeah, small dumb displays of longing and ownership. Rock the fuck on.
noun 1 a long narrow hilltop, mountain range, or watershed. 2 a narrow raised band on a surface. 3 Meteorology an elongated region of high barometric pressure. 4 the edge formed where the two sloping sides of a roof meet at the top.
verb often ridged mark with or form into ridges.
— DERIVATIVES ridgy adjective.
— ORIGIN Old English, “spine, crest”.
i wish it would snow
i wish it would snow and i was inside in the half light
drowsy and warm under duvet and blanket
nothing to disturb
no noise except the low rumble of trains and
the gentle rhythm of your breath lapping
against my consciousness
I am tired.
A sixth form student I look particularly kindly upon appeared to be in a deep state of shock when she turned up in my classroom today three-quarters through the school day. I told her if she would like to talk to me that I was available and I will summarise what she told me through tears:
Her brother has schizophrenia and her parents have seen fit to try and shelter him from the brunt of the mental health system by getting him private treatment instead of the harsh realities of the NHS. He is a former heroin addict but has been clean and managing his condition (if you can call it that) for around half a year or so; this “management” went out of the window in horrifyingly spectacular style last night when he set about destroying the house.
He began by smashing all the windows he could literally get his hands on, wrecked the contents of the house and assaulted his father before slitting his wrists in front of his onlooking family. The house was filled with a scattering of broken glass and pools of blood. I’ve a soft spot for this eighteen year-old student as she doesn’t conform to ideals of femininity (I can empathise) and is struggling to carve out a place for herself in the world; she is very vulnerable and to hear her say that “I’ve seen things that no-one at my age should have to see” was quite upsetting.
Her brother is now too violent for the private health people to take him and because he was private the NHS are unwilling to take on someone who started treatment elsewhere; his parents will not press charges and the four police cars worth of officers that turned up to this event could only suggest that they “try” and get him sectioned.
Sectioning is what he needs, but his parents have repeatedly not opted for this and now it is proving difficult to set things in motion. Last year the student had to spend a week in bed and breakfast whilst he was unwell; as she is over eighteen she is legally an adult, and so there is next to nothing that can be done to rehouse her and give her a break.
Hopefully she is staying at a friends house tonight but I am very worried that she will not turn up to school tomorrow. I am so concerned for her, and was very tempted to take her home so she could spend a night free from the threat of violence as when I last saw her her brother was still at the house.
I just wonder- What the fuck else does he have to do to get sectioned? What the fuck are the parents doing? They are seriously jeopardising the well-being of their daughter, who has had substance abuse and mental health issues in the past and has also run away from home… It’s an awful feeling to have to wait and see if he burns the house down, seriously injures a parent or seriously harms himself; you know that then he would get locked away, but probably criminally rather than to the psychiatric care he needs.
I really hope that my student is safe under the care of a friend tonight; I am very worried about her.
Teacher n. Administrator, First Aider, Councillor, Pop Psychiatrist, Health and Social Worker. Sometimes shows the kiddies a bit of art, to pass the time like.