Monthly Archives: April 2012

Blue Sunday

Shit day today. Ever since Jacques and Nina i’ve felt decidedly on the low side, weeping at intervals. Louis Theroux looking at dementia and Sinatra in concert have not exactly helped lift my mood. I’ve hoovered, done some washing up and painted my toenails blue. Very blue.

Just to add to the fun, today I noticed that the occasional small bugs I see wandering around in my shower room have spread to the rest of my living space. I’ve hoovered, washed and bug sprayed the places I think they are coming from to no avail.

I think they’re slithering up from between the damp cracks between the laminate flooring in my room, so I doubt there’s much I can do about them. The landlord doesn’t give a damn, telling my lettings agent that the paint and plaster falling off the wall of the shower is due to people splashing water from the communal shower room adjoining mine. The agent didn’t believe that either.

So bugs, loneliness and another week of feeling put-upon and misunderstood at work. The unbridled joy. I am looking forwards to managing to get through a week when I don’t cry or feel like shit…
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Let’s Forget Because All Can Be Forgotten

Ne Me Quitte Pas
Jacques Brel
La Valse á Mille Temps

Fucking hell.

Heard the Nina Simone version of this on Person Of Interest and remembered this; solid weeping throughout as I listened, and despite listening to it twice through I am still a sobbing mess.

I think things are going fine and dandy, and then they’re not, and i’m running out of tissues, toilet paper and kitchen towel. Things were okay before Coppell came on the scene but now he’s gone, I miss him terribly. I know that with time things will get better, but right now it sucks.


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Person Of Interest

My weekend is proving to be low-key, but a good one. Friday was dinner and drinks with McCy; today I’ve been having a Person of Interest marathon the entire day (it’s really great television), multi-tasking with laughing at terrible emails i’ve been getting from a couple of dating sites.

The men on them are *so* not what i’m looking for, and I must say it’s fun to bat back their poorly-spelt, inane messages. There are barely twenty men in my town who are in the decade-wide age-range i’m looking for, and none of them are of any interest to me. Ugh.

I filled McCy in on the whole Coppell debacle – she was pretty shocked; she is now the sixth friend of mine who concludes that Coppell is having some sort of episode of insanity… they cannot come up with any other explanation. As the evening moves on, I miss the kind man I lost, feel sad about the loss of that future, and remember the lovely six months we passed. At the moment, if the man I thought I knew came back into my life it would make me very happy indeed.

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Au Revoir Coppell

He’s been unfriended, unfollowed and blocked after a final email from me. In it, I expressed all the things his lack of meaningful engagement with me prevented me from saying; finally I feel like I have my “voice” back.

The End has become much more unpleasant since we last saw each other two weeks back. I’ve been gaslighted online, with me and Coppell’s relationship completely re-written, both from a historical perspective and altering the nature of it. It’s been confusing and hurtful, especially given some of the things written; bragging of infidelities was much in abundance, along with disparagement of my character. Whether I was lied to for six months or the writing was for the benefit of the community of predators, and they were lied to I do not know. I won’t ever know the truth.

Who wrote these things? Coppell.

It’s as if the person I knew has gone, to be replaced with a hard-hearted, emotionless automaton. A complete personality transplant appears to have occurred, and I don’t know which side of him is real.

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Today I discovered some alleged “information” about me and Coppell’s relationship that has come as quite a shock. An email is being carefully crafted, and has taken me so far around three hours to put together. It changes everything, and yet nothing. I think I am just as confused as ever.
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The weekend

Last night was supposed to be a big night out in town with a group of my closest friends and Coppell; after six months hearing second-hand how amazing the man was they were all really looking forwards to meeting him.

Instead, last night was drinks and dinner with Bobby Convey and Caversham Princess. It was great to see the both of them and we whiled away several hours with ease; there was much discussion of Coppell but also their own relationships, Bobby’s getting a place to re-train as a midwife (YAY!) and the well-being of friends.

Both of them are in long-term relationships, and they could both tell me of times that their partners had shut down on them or had meltdowns; they got through these problems and kept the relationship going by talking through things with their men, sort of talking them down. I don’t feel I had the chance to do this with Coppell; it’s like he just gave up, which from a man who goes all out to get what he wants still seems terribly strange.

The booze and emotion got to me and I texted Coppell expressing a wish to see him; I then sent another message apologising. I feel bad about the texts but at the same time not at all; I think i’ve demonstrated a huge amount of restraint given what’s happened, so shouldn’t beat myself up over something so small.

Today i’m cheering myself up with lots of my favourite prawn dumplings for lunch. It’s great to see friends but when they’re gone I feel a flatness as the weekend stretches out; after spending six months Google Chatting on Sundays there’s a great nothingness now.

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Seven Days Since

So it’s one week since the bottom dropped out of my world. I have bad days and better days, or bad parts and better parts. I can be fine for an entire day and not have too low a mood or I can be weeping over the washing up and drooling in the shower as I sob my guts out.

Work is proving hard. My boss talks to me about whatever trifle the sixth formers have done with the strange idea that somehow I give a shit; i’m trying my best to engage with the kids and not be overly snappy towards them or my colleagues but i’m not always managing. Most of the time I float through the days, sitting aimlessly and going home as soon as I can.

Teaching is like having to do a presentation every hour, so you have to be “on” and manage the learning and behaviour of a group of people that might not want to play ball. When people complain about lazy teachers, they often don’t consider the toll the performance side of things can take -it can be exhausting; I doubt they would want to do a presentation every hour, five days a week.

Today after school I bumped into the Headteacher as I made my way to the car park;
“I know I shouldn’t really know this-“
she told me, fully expecting her to gone on to say something about how I was now the union rep
“- but I’ve heard you’ve snagged yourself a very eligible man indeed!”

I just about managed to keep myself together when I explained that yes, I did, and he was wonderful, but that everything fell apart over Easter. The Head apologised for having asked and said how sorry she was about what happened and went on to say that
“Everything happens for a reason,”
and that she’s sure I’ll find someone even better. I said I doubted it, and that I know it’s a cliché that everyone thinks the last person they were with was brilliant, but that Coppell really was- a real rarity that I doubt I’ll ever ever see the likes of ever again.
“Everything happens for a reason,”
is right up there with
“I’m sure you’ll find someone!”
from the person that just dumped you. Thanks. Thanks A LOT.

I read articles about Boston Terriers and look at photos of new litters of puppies and feel sad; sad that i’ll never see Meathead ever again, sad that I live in such a small space I could never have a dog of my own, sad that I have a job that doesn’t pay enough for me to afford to rent somewhere where I could have a dog.

Thanks to Meathead, I now fully understand the wonderful qualities to be found in dogs. A creature that loves you without judgement, who you can love right back without having to self-censor.

I miss Meathead.

And her owner.
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Aiiight Innit… Er, no

Thought things were going better because my appetite was returning and I got more than three hours sleep last night, but today has proved not the best. There was a fucking fracking story writ large on many news sites today which only served to remind me of Coppell, not that a day goes by when I don’t think of him but IN MY FACE and all that. I spent the latter half of my work day smile-less and deeply sad, with my Year 11s enquiring after my well-being: “You’re really quiet Miss… Are you all right…?”

I sat in my classroom and stared into space for fifteen minutes at the end of the day, instead of getting the fuck out of Dodge. I feel a different sort of emotional pain today, and I think this ache is going to be what I carry with me, waiting to spring fully-armed at lonesome weekends.

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Back in the world

First day back at work post-Coppell bombshell; unsurprisingly it was not the best of days, but not the unending horror show it could have been.

Immediately cried upon seeing my colleagues in the office –
My boss: “Hello!” (upon seeing my face) “Oh no… What’s the matter…? Has everything gone horribly wrong…?!”
Me: “Yes… Coppell ended things wahhhh…!”
– but aside from that I managed to keep my shit together for most of the day. Everyone was shocked and terribly sympathetic, with lots of hugs and space given to me; everyone expressed a hope that Coppell would come to his senses and realise what he’s lost (I don’t think they should hold their breath on that one, alas).

I noticed Meathead’s unfinished bowl I had so carefully crafted sitting in my space in the office. This was a bit of a downer, as was my having to take down the Texan flag I had strung up from the rafters to decorate :( I hope that I can still send along the bowl for the future use of the bestest dog in the world, as it makes me happy to think of her lapping at its should-be-brightly-coloured innards. Her owner broke up with me, but I did not break up with Meathead :)

I managed to stumble my way through a five period day, working hard to keep my sleep-deprived words as straight as possible (results did vary) and in the process had a few nice chats with kids, where I expressed my sadness and they told me of times in their lives something similar had occurred.

There were many sad kids at school today.

Two girls in my form were crying when I came in due to a death in the family and a self-harming ex, I invited a depressed sixth former into my classroom to come and have a collective weep with me, one of the wonky girls sat with me at lunch to talk about the life-long, incurable condition she’s recently been diagnosed with and at the end of the day another girl told me about the alcoholism that runs rampant in her family and how it recently took the life of an uncle.

Occasionally I teach, too :)

The kids I talked to about what had happened were all very kind and understanding. They noticed I looked down and would ask “What’s wrong, Miss?” Yes, this is the wisdom and kindness of 14-19 year-olds, but it was nice to receive. It made getting through the day a little bit easier.
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The flatness has gone, to be replaced with periodic sproutings of copious tears. I am dreading work tomorrow.
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Last day of freedom

Last day before I go back to work. I managed to hold things together more-or-less yesterday, crying only twice. I am still seemingly perma-tired as I am not able to sleep and I am eating a lot less than I would usually, though I don’t seem to have much of an appetite.

My Mum called again and spent the phonecall telling me about all the positive relationship news of cousins and friends. I had to work hard to keep myself together during the call, and when she told me that I can call her if I want to talk about anything I said no, I didn’t think so. She will take this as everything is okay, but it’s not.

As I sit trying to distract myself watching films I wonder what Coppell is doing and how he is feeling; I wonder whether he feels the sadness I do, or whether it’s been swept aside along with me. Is he carving notches into the headboard in a resolute attempt to claim his re-entry into singledom? Is he willing to help me move forwards – whatever form that might take – by helping me understand what has happened?

I have so many questions, and I have no idea if answers are even what I need or want.

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I should be…

…in London now with Coppell. Probably at one of the bars in the Opera House, getting a pre-curtain up beverage. I would’ve been wearing some bright eye makeup and be feeling very excited, but at the same time trying hard not to be too loud. I would be showing Coppell around the building pointing out interesting features and looking forwards to the night ahead…

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Emotional Low Countries

So i’ve managed over fourteen hours now since my last cry. Today has brought a great flatness, where I sit and stare into space for long periods, and getting things done – getting food, taking a shower – takes a very long time from me realising what I need to do to it actually happening.

I had to go out to get some food (as I was supposed to be eating out today) and walking along was like being an astronaut in my neighbourhood; I walked very slowly and felt a great deal of detachment from everything around me, like I was in a bubble. I felt a great sadness too, and was waiting for some fucker to see my face and tell me “Cheer up, love, it might never happen!”

This morning my Mum called, with her opening line being “Are you on your way into London?” “No…” came my response and in reply to my Mum’s confusion I told her that something terrible had happened, and described briefly what had gone on and my great confusion. My Mum sounded like she was going to cry.

She asked if I wanted to come up and see her, or whether I wanted her to come with me to the ballet this evening. I thanked her, said I didn’t think I wanted to go at all, and said i’d call her tomorrow. It made me sad to hear how saddened my Mum was on hearing the news :(
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Thanks to Flambé, i’ve now achieved a full two hours without crying; when I told him what had happened between me and Coppell he was just as confused as I.

I am exhausted, and very much hope I can manage to get some decent sleep tonight. I am still hugely saddened by what has happened, and I will once again be clutching Patrick very tightly to me under the duvet.
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Twenty-four hours on from since me and Coppell last met and I still haven’t managed to pass a complete hour without some sort of weeping. I’ve had one bowl of cereal and a cup of tea and have spent most of the day writing here, or curled up with Patrick, multi-tasking on the crying in both situations. Go me. I’ve given up wearing my glasses because I cry so much and they just end up getting in the way.

I really should have a shower as I find the warmth comforting (or at least I do when the fucking shower works!) but I also know that all i’m going to do is stand under the warmth and hug myself and cry, and that I probably won’t feel any better at all.

I was really looking forwards to going to Covent Garden tomorrow evening with Coppell to see some ballet; I was excited at the prospect of showing him around London. I can’t bring myself to go on my own, or with any of the friends that have offered, because I know I won’t be able to concentrate on the dance, and will probably have to leave at some point to weep in the toilets, all the time thinking of Coppell. The tickets cost a lot but are just going to sit in my drawer as small mementos of what could have been.

I’ve been thinking about going back to work on Monday, how I will have to tell everyone (including some of the nicer kids that cared about our relationship) and how I just want to hide from everyone. I don’t want to shout at the kids or have a meltdown in front of them, but in order for me not to i’m going to have to work very hard to repress my feelings. Work is going to be extra shit now that i’ve got nothing else going for me outside of it.

I just looked at some pictures of Coppell and Meathead and feel so desperately sad. All I want to do is see him, hold him and be held, but I know none of these things will fix anything.
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Half remembered confusion

Thinking back to last night, the conversations had and the sobbing done, it strikes me that Coppell may not have known what he was doing, or at least might not have anticipated the result of what he told me. It’s like he had an idea in his head as to what he needed to do, but hadn’t thought through the details, the ramifications.

It was a strange unfolding. The way he approached things was very confusing, and even now I am at a loss. He invited me over to his to hang out and things seemed to be going just peachy as we talked about the usual mix of random rubbish that we entertain ourselves with. I was completely blind-sided when he told me that he thought that it had come to the point in our relationship where he wanted to open it up, and not in a polyamourous way, more so that he could make new friends, because he really needed to do so.

I became deeply, deeply upset after he told me his decision. As our conversation progressed, he became more and more upset as I think he realised the consequences of what he’d decided.

He kept saying he needed to see other people in order to make new friends. I was totally confused, because I thought that having friends outside of a relationship is normal and important, and that being in a relationship should not mean that outside interests go out the window.

He told me that he was terribly anxious at the thought of not having me around, and he really wanted to continue to see me. I told him that there was no way this was practical, because I didn’t want to be “just” friends with him, and that to continue to see him would be prolonging the agony for me.

He said that we didn’t have to make any decisions now, and should wait a few days, but I couldn’t see what there was to decide. I said that even if we didn’t see each other for a while, ultimately what was the point, because in six months he was going to be gone.

He told me how hard he was finding it starting anew in a workplace where there weren’t obvious people who could become friends; he said he felt terribly alone, especially as Meathead wasn’t there. He apologised that I was with him when he was “chubby”, and said he was sorry but he just wasn’t “available”. He said that he felt like things were finally stable in his life, like he had come up for air after a long period of difficulty.

How feeling good about life should preclude a relationship I cannot understand.

It is clear that at the moment he seems to equate being in a relationship with isolation (as i’ve written about before), and so, because he doesn’t want to feel isolated, decided to end things. He feels isolated because he’s moved to a different country and a different workplace, not because of any relationship we were in.

Rather than take the support I was offering and build friendships outside of the relationship, he seemed to feel like any support I could have offered was somehow cutting him off. I think he might be afraid that any relationship with me would turn into the claustrophobic ones of the past. I’m not the past. I thought I was the future.

We held each other for a long time and cried and cried and cried. It was awful.
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Ibuprofen for the soul

I feel like total shit today, and I am thankful that I have a few more days of the Easter holiday to hide from humanity. I have honestly never cried so much in my life; the decade of pain with Monster and MW#1 and the tears I shed because of them are nothing on the last twelve hours of a formerly six month relationship.

I cried for hours last night. I got into bed with a hot water bottle because the warmth brings me comfort and hugged Patrick tightly; I would think about Coppell and get upset, eventually dropping off from exhaustion, before waking up, remembering what had happened and then crying all over again. I probably got two hours sleep and I feel a complete mess.

I thought I might be feeling a little less all-over-the-place when I got up, but within five minutes I was reaching for the toilet roll to mop up my sobs. If science and engineering can put a man on the moon, why can’t they invent an analgesic for broken hearts?

For him to just be gone from my life, here-one-day gone-the-next, is something I can’t wrap my head around at the moment.

I’d arranged to introduce Coppell to most of my friends next weekend and so I had to email everyone and tell them what had happened, so that they didn’t book hotel rooms for an event I did not think I could attend. Everyone emailed back such kind and understanding replies, which made me cry more :)

M had something very perceptive to say. I’d written that I was devastated by what had happened, and that this was kind of stupid due to the amount of time me and Coppell had spent together. She replied that she thinks
“99% of the grief is sadness and frustration about the loss of the future that might have been.”
Nailed it.

I was excited about a future with Coppell. I was happy enough on my own before he came along, however I wasn’t excited about the future. Not at all. I had accepted that in all probability I would not meet anyone to share my life with, and I was more-or-less okay with that. Resigned to my fate would be a better description. I had work and not much else in my life, and lived somewhere shit, so I did feel pretty down at times. I never felt that I had much to look forwards to.

Looking back at what i’d written just before Coppell came onto the scene is so sad to read today.
“A new development: a wistfulness more frequently encountered than it has been in many a month. I notice its presence when i’m tired or at the end of a stressful day at work, and of course, on a Sunday evening. A small yet noticeable feeling of aloneness that gnaws at the edges of my day. I find myself missing physical contact too, the tactile side of things, not necessarily sex.”
With Coppell gone I feel like so much potential has been lost. The potential I felt in the first three days translated into potential for years ahead. I could see it- he would achieve great things and bring a lot of good to people, and I wanted to help, be a part of his plans.

There was so much to look forwards to, and I honestly thought our relationship was going to be many years long, not months. I was so excited at the possibility of building a life together, exploring the world and its wonderful and terrible things together.

What is so upsetting to me is that I thought that in Coppell i’d found someone I could love with all my heart. Of course, I want to be loved, but to be able to love someone else without having to hold back, self-censor, to be able to love deeply; this is what I long for more than anything else.

Fuck the word like. I didn’t like him, I loved him. I loved him exactly how he was. In his very human imperfection, he was perfect in my eyes. And gone from my life forever.

The events of last night have left me with many questions, but I don’t know whether the answers that Coppell could give would help ease the pain at all. I just can’t seem to stop crying… maybe i’ll get dehydrated eventually and things will dry up.

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I’m all about the words, right? I’ve written before about how I somehow manage to churn out a novel a year through my ramblings here? Well, words cannot express just how sad I feel right now.

I met up with Coppell this evening, and after i’d enjoyed rambling about teaching and the merits of Han and Indy, he told me that he’d recently come to the realisation that he wasn’t ready for a relationship.

We both cried for over an hour.

The last six months have been indescribably wonderful; for the first time in my life I felt happy with someone without having to add qualifying statements, excuse their behaviour or have to repress my feelings. I was proud to be seen with such a smart, attractive man and so very dearly wanted him to be in my life long term. I thought that at last something good was happening in my life, like a ray of sunshine and hope had broken through…

We’ve spent most of our time separately, but his loss is going to leave an enormous hole. I’m never going to see Meathead ever again either, the dog I fell in love with.

There were times I thought I loved her owner too.

I am *devastated*

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“So how long do I wait to call?”

From one of my all time faves. This scene seems rather appropriate at the moment.
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Holiday Week Two – Relationship Weirdness

Lunch with Leia Ewok Village was postponed, so the big event of the Easter weekend was the return of Coppell, who was in town for more than one day. Woo.

It was a bit of a strange experience seeing him again. I’ve done my usual holiday thing of messing up my body clock courtesy of too many late nights and too much internet, so I was already tired when we met up. I’ve also been feeling a bit wobbly at times over the last few days due to hormonal shenanigans (AKA my body trying to get its act together) and the lack of interaction with fellow humans on a daily basis has left me a bit tongue-tied.

To begin with it was weird- it was like two friends meeting, with neither of us showing very many signs of affection; I felt a distance between us and I kept myself emotionally in check. We went out for some legendary pie and as the meal progressed things warmed up between us; I felt more comfortable and we got on like the accommodation being oxidised that is the norm.

It’s still very odd to know that Coppell is ten minutes round the corner and not across an ocean. Whereas before I knew when I would or would not see him thanks to the distance involved, now there’s uncertainty despite us actually living in the same square mile. Now I have to do that whole trying to be nonchalant thing, when I spend quite a lot of time wanting to interact with him in intellectual and physical ways.

When I visited him in Pittsburgh, both of us were off work and so spent a week or more in each other’s company, and in the short time we hotel hopped in October, we spent as much time together as we could manage. Now I have to adapt to a more relaxed pace, which is going to take some getting used to.

I feel a vulnerability with regards him that I didn’t feel when we were living on different continents. I know that all of these issues will iron themselves out given time; I expect once i’m back at the whiteboard-face things will improve.
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I know What Boys Like
The Waitresses

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Interrupta somnum

Urg. An interrupted night under the duvet topped off with waking super early and being unable to fall back asleep. One of those nights where it took hours to stop thinking about things (the same shit, over and over), and when I did drop off I woke feeling exhausted. I had a bit of a downer of a day yesterday, and I often find waking early is the result; nothing is necessarily wrong, but things don’t feel entirely right either.

Figured i’d get up, get some cereal and a cup of tea and hope that this triggered off the post-food warm and fuzzies so I can crawl back into bed and get some actually relaxing sleep.
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King’s Water

Aqua regia is a highly corrosive mixture of acids that is used to clean things that need to be really clean, for etching and to produce an electrolyte used to refine gold. This story from its Wikipedia entry is suuuuper cool:
“When Germany invaded Denmark in World War II, Hungarian chemist George de Hevesy dissolved the gold Nobel Prizes of German physicists Max von Laue (1914) and James Franck (1925) in aqua regia to prevent the Nazis from confiscating them. The German government had prohibited Germans from accepting or keeping any Nobel Prize after jailed peace activist Carl von Ossietzky had received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1935.

De Hevesy placed the resulting solution on a shelf in his laboratory at the Niels Bohr Institute. It was subsequently ignored by the Nazis who thought the jar—one of perhaps hundreds on the shelving—contained common chemicals.

After the war, de Hevesy returned to find the solution undisturbed and precipitated the gold out of the acid. The gold was returned to the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences and the Nobel Foundation. They re-cast the medals and again presented them to Laue and Franck.”
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Donald Short Moon by Donald Short

How goes my first week of freedom AKA slobbing out in my room? Well, thanks very much.

Aside from the fact that my fingers get so cold whilst typing that they become stiff, I’m really enjoying spending time creating the website for the artwork I am supposedly going to do.

I’ve changed my mind and started again about three times upon getting ideas from current sites, but through a process of trial and error I feel like I’m making progress.

Just the work to actually put on there. Hmmm…

I’m using Blueprint to set my pages out and I am enjoying it; there’s not a whole lot to learn and it’s proving very useful with regards helping everything look consistent. It also makes knocking up something relatively quick.

More importantly i’m staying away from using tables with my CSS, which is how i’ve done things in the past; it’s been a slow and at times frustrating process but I feel like I have a better grasp now than I did previously. Plus, Blueprint means I don’t have to worry about floats or positioning. Hurrah.

So yeah, i’m kinda cheating, but whatever :)

Other than coding, trying to keep warm and drinking multiple cups of tea, i’ve done not very much. It’s been nice to spend time on something I enjoy, where I don’t have to compromise the time spent on it, i.e. have to do an actual job. Goddamned having to work for a living.

The weekend brings lunch with Leia Ewok Village – which I am excited about as it seems to have been aaaages since we last saw each other – and the return of Coppell, which I am also excited about but for different reasons :)
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Call me up, we’ll hang out…

Simian Mobile Disco
Cruel Intentions
(Heartbreak’s Slow Action Remix)
from Temporary Pleasure (2009)

I am greatly appreciating Beth Ditto on this one… which is saying something as i’ve never thought much of her before.

A great headphone listen and perfect for dancing around in your underwear :)

From Laura of Miami’s Vamos a La Playa 106 (go listen!)
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Saturday Night

Drinking on a non-school night with Flambé… whodathunkit. Strange compulsion to eat toast but will try to resist… for as long as possible… or at least five minutes :) To bed all warm and fuzzy, where I take enjoyment in feeling out the contours of my body. I am textural :)
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