Monthly Archives: July 2010


It’s only taken a week but i’m already struggling to find things to fill my day. There’s only so much internets you can browse, films you can watch, cakes you can make. Lonesome too.

I continue to work on emails to MW#1 – still heard nowt back – but at times things are a bit hard going as it’s hard to communicate what I need to. Sometimes memories are difficult too, both good and bad.


Aannyway, town later on this evening to mark Leia Ewok Village’s last day on the job. HURRAH.
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Immature Waffling Two

Oh, fucking hell. Another brilliant comment from the previous article:
“I recently joined Guardian soulmates and I have been amazed at the number of 45 to 50 year old men emailing me, despite my being 30, and my preferences clearly stating that I want someone my own age.

All of these men state on their profiles that they want children and list the ‘ideal’ match as someone younger than themselves. Needless to say, they come across as rather pathetic.

But it is enraging to think that these men, who must have had partners throughout their 30’s, think that now they’ve ‘grown up’, they can abandon their female contemporaries in favour of someone with younger looking ovaries.

I have been spending alot of time thinking up new and interesting ways of telling them to f**k off.”
‘Apparently going out and doing stuff, rather than sitting at home honing your cooking skills in preparation for a man to come along and fill all those long, empty hours, is something the 21st century male can’t handle. We should be needy. My friend Bron calls out, when she sees me go off on a date, “Don’t tell him you’re a doctor!”

Like many middle class women I’m left wondering when so many men will stop seeing relationships as a hierarchy with themselves on the upper step, holding tick box lists: “dress size 10-12” “IQ at least 10 points below mine” “makes my male friends envious” (that’s a biggie) “always lets me take the lead in social situations” “always knows less than me, so I can tell her stuff”

I know so many smart, funny, busy women who would love to have a man in their lives, who would have loved to have children but have now accepted that the opportunity has passed, while the men shuffle their feet and say “yes, but she’s just too…”‘
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Immature Waffling

Check out this comment from a Dear Mariella piece:
“This painful situation is so similar to what I went through in my own life in my 30s (from the woman’s point of view). I agree with Mariella’s appropriately stern response to the letter-writer.

One positive thing from reading this today, I guess, is to know that many other men have treated the women they claim to “love” in this way, and many other women have suffered like I have from the immature waffling of grown men who want every benefit of a committed relationship but none of the responsibility, and who refuse to understand how important having children can be to a woman who wants the chance to at least try to have one (or more), sometime in her life.”

…immature waffling of grown men who want every benefit of a committed relationship but none of the responsibility…” Wow, that sounds so very familiar.

Mariella essentially tore the writer of the letter a new one and for good fucking reason. If I have kids great, if not then that’ll be pretty sad but so be it; even without kids in the equation so many men seem to be *so* Goddamned immature about relationships. I think there’s a lot of using that goes on… Newsflash – We are not your mothers.
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“What I am trying to say is that I have treated people, relationships and marriages as consumable goods. I go shopping for the thing I think I want or need, and then when I get it home and find it didn’t fill the gap, hit the spot, or look as good at the kitchen table as I had expected, I return it or get rid of it.

That’s treating people and relationships as disposable goods. That’s using people to meet my needs rather than appreciating them as they are, for who they are.”
Jezebel The Difference Between “Healthy Boundaries” And Disposable Relationships
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Witter – Email Three

Twitter widgets and the like don’t fit terribly well with the rather minimal design I have going on here so although it might be useful to see what the frak i’m writing here on the main page, aesthetics have resulted in no widgets for this monky. Just the link I think.

Email Three winged its way to MW#1 late this evening; it took me a particularly long time to write, wanting as I did to cover good things and lots of not-so-good things. On the particular topic I was pondering I had an awful lot to say, mainly as i’d said so very little about it. I can certainly say it’s out my system now… :D
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So… If you take a quick look over towards the left there…

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My Eyes! Look at this fucking dress:


ASOS TBA Lattice Collar Velvet Dress

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Tits – Inception


On my way to the cinema this evening some delightful fuckin’ guy on a mountain bike said to me

“Small tits”

as he passed by me. For a moment I thought, he’s a non-native speaker, did he really say that? Really? Then yes, yes, he really did say that. Of course, such people do not want to wait around to face the consequences of their actions and he was long gone. What a fucker.

I’m quite happy with my “small” tits thank you. They’re more than a mouthful but relatively easy to manage. Good times.

Anyway, Inception was all kinds of brilliant- At the end I felt very much like i’d just sat through two and three-quarter hours of a completely engaging art installation. This is a good thing. Honest.

It was compelling, beautiful and smart. Wonderful stuff.
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What’s The Matter Little Girl

The Applejacks
What’s The Matter Little Girl
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Twitter ponderation


Yes, I really did spend five minutes of my life altering the Twitter logo.

I’ve been wondering whether to stick a link to “my Twitter” as the parlance goes on the navigation sidebar. I’d be interested to see if anyone who reads nopoke would follow me, because i’d be interested in what they’re interested in, what their thoughts on their patch of this planet are, but at the same time I can’t help but be a little concerned at all the information that could be gleaned about me from reading what I and others I follow have written.

Says the girl who writes about solo drinking, permanent heartbreak, masturbation and self harm.


It would be a good way to stick up short things that I haven’t the time or huge inclination to write in depth about. And also I need friends. Lame-o.
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Jon Venables is not yet beyond redemption

Guardian Blake Morrison: Jon Venables is not yet beyond redemption
To the tabloid press, the horrific nature of his most recent offence means that he is – and always will be – a monster. But the deeper evidence suggests we are dealing with a confused young man who desperately needs help
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Today was a good day

After the tear-filled Sunday today was a better day (I didn’t even have to use my AK).

No tears of any degree of moistness shed and I felt less emotionally wrought. Still thinking about things, still pondering the further emails I need to write and send, but Pilates, MR T passing his MOT and a fair bit of inanity AKA Tweeting has managed to keep me on a more even keel. Hoo-fuckin’-ray.

Interesting article on Jezebel today celebrating a woman’s sluttiness, how she sorts out her sexual needs and desire for affection with hook-ups, leaving her time to recuperate from a long term relationship she’d recently come out of.

I can understand what she says and I agree with some of it – her desperation, how she felt like even the smallest touch from someone would be overwhelming, how she felt like she’d fall for the first person that came along who showed her some affection. I think what the writer says makes sense, and in some ways I wish I could do it. Fear of a variety of things holds me back and I must admit being a bit judgemental about some people.

I have no problem with people who sleep around and are upfront that they don’t want a relationship out of it, but I know my problem is that I care too much and there are *so* many people who aren’t upfront. Can we all be honest, please? I am also unfortunately very aware of the trail of destruction that can result when people don’t take sufficient care with their actions towards others.

I won’t do a one-night stand as much as I really want some Goddamned affection. Oh see, now it isn’t so much of a good day as writing that has made me tear up. GREAT.

I want affection from someone who cares about me, what I feel and how I think. Someone who desires both my body and my mind and values both. Someone to whom my existence in their life is welcomed, that they consider that I add a sprinkle of awesome to their day.

I haven’t found anyone able to step up and fulfil these criteria in ten years, the entirety of my adult life… What are the odds that in another ten years (Hi there, forty!) i’m still alone? Pretty good I think.


Jezebel – My Sluthood, Myself.
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Science Daily – Anguish of Romantic Rejection May Be Linked to Stimulation of Areas of Brain Related to Motivation, Reward and Addiction

I know about some of the theories behind the chemicals of love – i’m tattooed with the concept – but still I don’t know whether it’s, forgive the phrase, heartening or depressing to read in this preliminary research about the withdrawal some people go through when a relationship ends.

I suppose this perhaps puts greater emphasis on the people who’ve caused the hurt to take greater care? You make people ill, you should be gentle with them and show some compassion. Great in theory of course but not so easy in the world of “adult” relationships…
“This brain imaging study of individuals who were still ‘in love’ with their rejecter supplies further evidence that the passion of ‘romantic love’ is a goal-oriented motivation state rather than a specific emotion” the researchers concluded, noting that brain imaging showed some similarities between romantic rejection and cocaine craving. “The findings are consistent with the hypothesis that romantic love is a specific form of addiction.”
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Lego Toy Story

Lego Men

AK! Lego Toy Story – Army Men On Patrol

Look at the little Medic… :)
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MR T passed his MOT without any work needing to be done to him. HOORAY! That is one less thing to worry about…
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Pervy Pilates

Started today with a bit of Pilates on my comfy new mat; my six months of once-a-week lessons have made me stronger and have made me feel a bit better about my body. I have a weak back and very soft abs and so I hope that my doing Pilates will help build better core muscles so that my back doesn’t get so sore.

A rather unexpected “side-effect” of my mat work at home has been the discovery that certain positions are quite the turn on. And yes, it’s just me doing them. I think it’s the pressure on my back from the mat and the rolling movements of my back and pelvis that do it. When my back gets sore or tight the movement must release the tension there and I feel so much better :D
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Saturday was a great day – The tent was painted and sprayed and looks marvellous, in a sort of neon-grunge sort-of-way… Me and Bobby Convey spray-painted Outside it’s raining… Inside it’s wet on the back of the tent as it seemed both hilarious and appropriate. Hee.

I managed to get a particularly interesting pattern gently burnt onto my back where my skin was left exposed to the not-supposed-to-be-there sun; the best part of it is where you can see the outline of my fingers as they struggled to push the sunscreen across my back. FAIL.

Today was spent hiding out from the world and aside from a must-go-i’m-out-of-milk trip to the corner shop – or should I say Tesco – i’ve done pretty much bugger all. Meant to tidy my room, meant to do some Pilates but no. I didn’t add anything to the MW#1 emails in progress that are sitting in the Drafts folder but I thought about things a lot.

Thinking about things inevitably leads to upset and so on-and-off throughout the day I shed tears, from the watering eyes variety to full on sobs. I never felt as bad as this when things actually ended, or should I say the coffee that never happened. It’s as if all the emotions associated with the loss of someone are only just hitting now, and suffice to say i’m not feeling particularly good.

I thought I felt so bad because it was the whole “i’m just tired” bollocks that usually makes me weepy but an afternoon nap did nothing to stem the escape of liquid. I got teary-eyed throughout Star Trek rather than just at the beginning when George Kirk is killed and his wife is left alone with the just-birthed James. Not good.

As I re-read things and think over stuff it is more and more obvious what a complete bastard MW#1 was; of course, me caring so much for such an utter prick makes me feel like the bigger fool for doing so. Ich bin LOSER. Also, fact and sense don’t apply in love and so although he treated me abominably – hello Jane Austin – I still feel so very sad, and still wish I could curl up with him when I crawl into my bed this evening. Even though I know it’s wrong, can’t happen and is utterly stupid. Oh Patrick, you really are the best.

Anyway, tomorrow is MR T’s MOT, and so at least tonight I will be able to curl up with Patrick and worry about my car in addition to my usual worries. FFS.
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Email Two – Tent

My second email to MW#1 is winging its way through cyberspace as we speak. No response to anything i’ve written as of yet.

The exotic environs of Brixton later today to Caversham Princess’s and the painting of a tent. Feel like curling up at home but I must get out more…
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“I have since found myself getting wet-eyed at the following: people being nice to other people, especially if said other people are very sad; weddings; the deaths of famous people I do not know; and fucking kittens. The last is just embarrassing, and in all cases I tend to give myself a stern talking-to rather than letting the tears flow. But it’s kind of disturbing that I get more weepy as I get farther away from childhood. When I’m old, am I just going to be sobbing all the time?”
From: When Getting Older Makes You A Crybaby
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On the second-last day of term I was called up to the Head’s office for a mystery meeting; I was given no info about why I was going, only that it was “about nothing bad” and that I wasn’t in trouble. I figured that the only thing she might want to talk to me about was my contract status and lo and behold that was what she told me about – when she remembered why she actually wanted to talk to me.

So after three years in the job I will be permanently full-time. When she told me this I cannot say I was impressed, indeed I was decidedly unimpressed when she said I was being rewarded for doing a good job by being given the improved contract.

“Rewarded” for essentially being on a probationary period that lasted for THREE years? Rewarded by being given something that in most schools I might have been given after the first year? Rewarded for performing above the norm by being given something I earned long, long ago?

I felt so pissed off and insulted by her; I knew that I was going to go home and feel similarly in addition to feeling sad about MW#1, so after driving home I took myself into town for a spot of retail therapy.

Joy-of-joys I actually managed to find a bra that fits me and on sale too, and I managed to find not one but two dresses for my trip to Corsica. Hurrah.
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FFS… I’ve just started weeping, nay sobbing over the following I read on an article about The Best Pick-Up Lines You’ve Ever Heard:
“There is a world of happiness out there. I would spend a lifetime trying to give it to you. You deserve nothing less.”
:( :( :(
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Internets Woe & Email

Fucking internets at home have been kaput for most of the last two days; at last the Network gods have smiled upon me and I can get my daily fix. Hurrah.

School is over for another year; my boss is officially retired as of yesterday and I will miss her greatly. She was such an inspirational teacher and gave so much support and encouragement to me. :(

I’ve been writing emails to MW#1 about a variety of things and sent the first one off today; I am interested to see if after this one he tells me to fuck off. I hope not, as i’ve got so much more that I need to say.
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Having had no indication of LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE i’ve started to write an email to MW#1 that covers some of the issues I feel I need to get off my chest. It’s proving helpful but i’ve found that i’ve an awful lot to write about and it’s rather hard to put in order. Anyway, it gives me something to work on and almost distracts me from the current pain i’ve been feeling. He’ll undoubtedly ignore what I send but never mind, eh…
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I’ve a phone that’s not much use for it and i’ve only really joined it so I can join in conversations of friends… Yes, I am now on Twitter.

If you were to come across me (no, not in that way) whilst wandering down the street one day you might greet me in a particular way and say my nom de guerre. You would then have the keys to the magical kingdom that is my Twitter username…

So far I have two friends I am following; I am going to try to just follow people I have actually met but you never know, I may get enticed by Nathan Fillion etcetera…

Choosing the background pattern and colourway is probably the most fun I will have with it I expect…
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A Request

This evening I wrote an email to MW#1; in it I asked for him to show a little kindness towards me and agree to open communications so that I can ask the questions I meant to ask when we met up the last time. I think that me not being able to say what I wanted to say to him has caused real problems in regards my recovery as I have so many questions. I know that any answers I get may make no sense but i’d like to have them anyway.

I figure he’ll ignore me, as seems to be par for the course, but I really, really don’t want to have to carry around the pain of his behaviour towards me, and I don’t want to feel so angry and sad any more… :(

It’s desperate I know, but I have to at least try…

Ugh, so fucking fed up of all of this crap…

“In Sum, I Am Hereby Tendering My Letter Of Resignation From The Relationship”

Jezebel – Crap Email From A Dude – “In Sum, I Am Hereby Tendering My Letter Of Resignation From The Relationship”
“Today’s CEFAD provides insight to the persistent question, ‘Why don’t we adopt the formal diction of law and business and introduce it into our personal lives?’ Wouldn’t the crispness of legalese be simpler, even kinder, in its way? Um, no.

Gene was a summer intern in D.C. when he met Camille. They dated, and after Gene returned to college in Portland, they stayed together long-distance for the next six months, and there was much mutual to-ing and fro-ing. But in order to avoid acrimony, just when Gene felt the relationship had peaked, he dumped Camille. “A relationship doesn’t need a long, bitter resentment period preceding a messy breakup,” he explained. You can, instead, skip right to the rupture.”
The first comment in regards this article sums up *so* many of my feelings about the way MW#1 decided to bring things to an end:
“Yeah, so maybe I’m a coward, but emotions are messy and I don’t want to be an adult and deal with the messy part of relationships ending. I’ve decided to just tell you repeatedly that this is a totally neat, clean, mature break-up that you should accept quietly and without protest; I’ve implied that any less-than-perfeclty-accepting thing you may have to say would be born from overreaction and irrationality; and I’m telling you that there is no need for you to ever express your thoughts or emotions about the matter to me. Trust me, it’ll be easier this way.

…You know, for me.”
Oh God, it fits faaar too well…
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WAR Here I am feeling grumpy whilst modelling the helmet I made for the Vietnam micro-party I attended over the weekend.

When I say micro, I mean party of two… (Thanks Leia!)

…and I was grumpy because it seemed appropriate. I am inordinately proud of my slightly wonky helmet, however recently getting through a day without feeling glum about MW#1 has been a bit of a battle.

So I guess you could call this

Self-Portrait as Soldier of LOVE – 2010


WAR TWOAnd yes, I really am that dorky to put the symbol of the 101st Airborne – specifically the 506th – on the outside…

… and no, that’s a rolled up piece of paper there, not what you think. Honest.

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“Open your Google Maps application. Find a large patch of open sea. Zoom in. Keep zooming in, and in, and in, and in, until you find the smallest little speck of land, the tiniest little island imaginable, so small you could hardly have imagined it could possibly exist in such a vast expanse of sea. Keep your eyes fixed on that island, and concentrate hard on what I am about to tell you.

This is where the people who give a s**t about your iPhone live.
Comment from: Guardian – Apple iPhone 4: countdown to the press conference
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txt Number 1 in a series of 6 billion:
The Great Unsaid

Thanks, Jenny

As written by me and sent to no-one this morning at 4.50am. WOO.
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