Ambling Much.....

I think I'm ambling. Prevaricating. Procrastinating. Putting-off. Presuming. Pausing. Pondering. And perhaps a plethora of other P's that don't spring to mind right now. I'm limbo'd. Frozen. Suspended even. In a fog. That is perhaps a more accurate description right now. In a fog. A fug. If you like. Foggy Fuggyness. Like the scene in the Matrix where Neo is in a white room with only Morpheus for company. The world feels to bright and too dull at the same time. Like I only have to tap myself softly and I'll bruise. I feel ridiculously under-confident,stupid and dense, lonely, isolated, lost, fragile and all to hyper aware of myself at the same time. My voice, my laugh, my movements. I look at my reflection and feel like there is a stranger residing in my face. It feels like the candle has been snuffed out. That I am not 'alight' just a fading ember.

*sigh* How depressing is THAT. *head - meet desk*

Death.... its a funny old game.

Death. Its one of those things that's really final. No more to pass go, collect £200. No Do Over's. No come backs, no final countdown. Its pretty much MORE the end, than finding you've got to the bottom of a packet of Cadbury's clusters. And the emotional fall out is pretty heavy as well. (The death not the clusters)

And this is where I find myself sitting. A week on from the passing of my wonderfully brave father who lost his battle to lung and brain cancer on the 8th October at 8:12am Saturday morning. He is gone. Completely. Everything that made him walk, talk, tick and move has been removed from this earth in the short space of a last exhale. And it is the most painful shockingly sad thing I've experienced to date. However. We become so entrenched in the death of someone, so locked into that final moment or moments leading up to it that we seemingly forget the actual life that person led. The fun the laughter, the mad mad moments. Believe it or not it was writing my fathers eulogy that reminded me of this fact. My Father was Fucking funny. Don't get me wrong, he could be a cantankerous old badger who could be so momentously grumpy you would be hard pushed to not want to kick him in the knackers. H A R D........ And sometimes he created moments where you would genuinely want to suffocate him with a pillow. He had a temper that could light a rocket, and an arse that Sadam himself would have wanted to patent and use against us.

Lets talk about sex......

T O Y S.........

Why do I do this to myself. I haven't a clue. But last night saw me sat down with a very dear friend of mine beginning a sex education class I wasn't aware I had missed! It started innocuously enough. (As these this often do with me) I mentioned that I had, at last, experience the vibes of the vibrator. To which i received a raised knowing eyebrow, and a 'Well Done. Welcome to the dark side......' followed by a smug curl of her lips and a deep throated chuckle. 'So. Got over our acute embarrassment of all things sexual have we?' She enquired. *Cue bright red face from me, an awkward cough, and a muttering of 'Something like that.........'*

Travel-lodges...

Wow. Wow and Wow.

Let me set the scene for you. It’s about 6:30pmish on a Thursday I’m in a travel lodge in west Edinburgh. I've been here for the last few days and I’ve seen a fair few things in this bar/lobby/restaurant/cafe.

• Screaming children - (Ta for that)
• Hushed arguments between couples. (do speak up, I want to know why he’s never getting any again)
• The token dyke. (Oh wait, that’s me)
• And a couple of what I am sure were illicit meetings between people.......(fevered glances, and jumping when your phone goes off is a giveaway mate....)

What you don’t expect to see is what appears to be Victoria Beckham’s Mum sitting punch drunk at the bar in 6 inch stiletto’s with shopping bags from Harvey Nicks and AKA scattered round her, wailing and sobbing with large dark shades on.

Where do we get them from………….

Right. So most people have heard about Dad through the grapevine that weaves its way around my work place. A lot of people have spun platitudes. Some have simply been honest and said, ‘I don’t know what to say’. These people I like muchly. The ones I really love are the ones who say.’ Jesus Kate, that’s a big bag of wank right there.’ I don’t need you to make it better. I need you to agree its shit. And Crap and that there is an evil presence in the world that has aligned its forces against me and we must take up arms against it with an Army of Ninja Penguins and assorted snacks/chocolate/cider/beer and GUNS. Many many guns.

However SOME people tend to veer sharply to the Looney side. There is a lady in filing; we will call her Doris for this. She is a very lovely, but a very weird, older lady. She’s one of those that always has a tissue about her, and smells vaguely of TCP and mint. However, she may look meek and a bit wet, but FUCK ME, don’t piss her off. She’s misleading that one……..Anyway, I'm over there one day and the conversation goes a bit like this.

Hey up folks.... It appears normal service has resumed.

Sleep, Sleep, merciful sleep, is keeping me company these nights it appears! Hurrah! *huggles sleep closer to her so it NEVER LEAVES again*

You know I believe I may have turned a corner! I think the recent storm has passed leaving me feeling much more in control of my own emotions/brain/body/movements/marbles again! I am not one for dramas. I had enough of that attending an all girls secondary school. *shudders* However for one who really loves a quiet life I appear to have become quite the magnet for them!

The problem is it turns me into some sort of raving lunatic. I've been a nightmare to be around and feel quite sheepish when looking back. (I know I know it’s been traumatic but you know!) Where I thought I was dealing well with it all, I can now clearly see I was merely flailing my arms around in a windmill like fashion. Where I thought there was an exterior of calm, there was, well the painting of scream.

What's the story morning glory, the scales fall from my eyes.....

I slept! I actually slept. The road to this blissful unconsciousness last night was possibly the longest, bumpiest, volatile one I've ever taken for a good nights sleep. But it was sleep.

It started of innocuous enough. (Doesn't it always) with arriving home after yesterdays duel with crying. (to cry or not to cry was the question) I had asked soon-to-be-ex-hub if he could possibly give me a hand this week, as its my last week in the house and at work, and that i was a little, well, overwhelmed. Sure. He says. He then proceeds to tell me that he won't be there all night Monday, is out Tuesday, and Wednesday but can be around Thursday. My retort was, well that's a fat lot of fucking good to me! I've got a week left and you not fucking well here at all! Yer selfish bastard of a boy. And then, in true toy throwing fashion, I had what can only be described as a Meltdown. In fact, I melted so spectacularly that I was genuinely concerned that I was after having some sort of nervous breakdown. (More like a breakthrough I would guess)

Haven't we been here before.........

Oh you know the part. With the crying and the wailing. And the floor. Ah yes the floor. It seems to become my friend at moments in need. Rushing up to greet me with open arms. Loving, warm, and MAY I add, bloody hard.

I am starting to think there is a real market for a floor made of cushions. Oh, no wait, I believe that is called a sofa...............

I have been fine all weekend. I have even enjoyed the freedom of driving to see whom I choose when I choose. THAT has been bloody marvellous! In fact I would go so far as to say, I had a lovely weekend. (Divorce, blah blah, freedom yedeyah) In fact, at some points, it was a HOOT! SO why, the floor? Well.

To Degree or not to Degree......

(Please be advised that this is ridiculously long........)

Do you know what I want?

I want a degree. Innn Biology, No radiology, NO, Marine Biology!!!!

Actually NO Bloody - idea - at - all - ology ….

I’ve spent years convincing myself I don’t want one. Or need one. But I do. It's like a heady out of reach, tantalising award that I've never quite gotten within stretching distance of. I tried. Oh yes siree-bob I tried. I questioned what in the sweet Sidney Crosby I was doing at Uni at the time. But I did go. And started training to be a teacher & could not have been more terrified. I suddenly realised that at the tender age of 19, I had the responsibility for children’s education. Bloody hell!!! My brain, shrinking backwards in my head was screaming - 'You'd better get this right you oversized tree, otherwise you're about to screw over a bunch of year 2 children who will carry bad teaching with them through-out their school career!' Now, overly dramatic you may think. But, cast your mind back to when you were taught & I bet a bad teacher sticks out in your mind like a tack that needs banging into a piece of wood. I couldn't take the responsibility. THEN I realised how shockingly little I KNEW as an adult in my own knowledge base and education, and well, I bolted, because my brain had shut the doors on learning, and put up a groovey ‘gone fishing’ sign.

Oddest Shopping list ever.......

It wasn’t even 9am and I was hugging my ribs for fear that they would fracture into a million pieces. The Deviant Damsels have struck again. Again, we start out innocuously enough. I am manning a different building this week. But still managing staff. (who am I kidding……they destroy what little nervous system I have left?) The post is delivered by the rabbit who is still going through her divorce. Cue much feet stamping and hollering of her soon to be Ex husband’s name. Random as ever, (bless the rabbit for I have sinned) she suddenly declares that her and her beau went shopping at Sainsbury's last night. Perfectly normal thing to do. I often go shopping at Sainsbury's. Then she suddenly pipes up with, ‘Yeah, we bought toys’……. Followed by massive grin.

You know London is a strange Hodge pot of people……

You only need to Jump on a tube to realise this. And this is exactly where I find myself now; looking at the variety life truly has to offer. And my GOD is it varied. On one chair sits a rock throw back trying to pull off the Sid vicious look. Then there is the guy who thinks he is in an Armani ad. Side parted slicked hair and all pouty bottom lip. He has pointy shoes. I hate pointy shoes. It's a waste of shoe. Your toes CANNOT possibly fit all the way down there, and it's a tripping hazard. Couple this with the fact the guy is standing with this air of the Adonis about him and enough aftershave to drown you in. I am trying not to open my mouth, as when I do I’m practically chewing the smell. As I shuffle myself sideways to let Mr Armani off, he is replaced by Mr Italian Stallion who along with his suede shoes, masculine belt buckle, and slightly open shirt, steps onto the tube with shades on. Shades? ON a tube. Matey boy, we are UNDER GROUND. Has he any clue how fucking ridiculous he looks?

I feel pretty, and witty, and...........

This - would be a thought process. Please be warned, i think in a very odd manner and therefore the following...um,....gobble, maaaaay not make that much sense!!!!

PS - you were warned...


Oh there is a change a happening inside this very hum drum brain of mine. A small squeak of awakening. You know, I used to class myself as a fairly social creature. Not that I would sit inside away from the world, but not that I would be all in it's face either. But recently, since tumbling out of the closet, I feel like I am now caught between being a hermit, and someone who wants to stand on a tall building calling out to the world shouting, ‘I AM HERE!’

Part of me wants to rush out and meet the world head on again. To seize it, feel it, touch it. Be part of it, the madness, the pain, the love, the laughter. I want to feel it run through my fingers, inhale it's scent, taste all it has to offer. It's like starting again, in a newish shell. I feel a bit righter inside, like that off balance slightly disjointed feeling has gone. But then I start to put my foot outside the door and a mammoth about of insecurities flood my synapses and send me running backwards in a flailing wind mill fashion.....

Damn you autocorrect.......

Contrary to recent popular belief, I actually do have a very good grasp of the English language. I can create long cohesive sentences and at one point was a student in syntax myself. I understand that regional dialect affects syntax and that accents have an affect on diction. So therefore, why is it that I am unable to send a fracking text without auto correct on my IPhone turning me into a gibbering wreck? Worse. Making me look like a 15 year old obsessed with the word penis?!?!?

I really do believe that the auto correct function on my IPhone has it in for me this week. To the point where i am perhaps its wench. Unable to use my own fully functioning brain, as i yet again, watch the text zoom off into the ether, with substitute words involved. For example. I replied to a friend who had asked me if i was cold due to the air con being on. I went to say. No. Just pure cold.

Auto correct steps in, and i send her a text saying.

No, just pure come.

As the text zoomed off, i was left sitting there with my eyebrows slowly crawling into my hairline......

Shower heads, Rolling pins and my Sanity in the Bin.......

So yesterday started out innocuously enough. I did my work. I managed my team. I did my job.

Now, just a weee snippet of background info on my team. I manage a predominately female team and we have one Chap who is in his early twenties. I sometimes worry about him but everyday he manages to tolerate my lovely bunch of deviants. Such are my, well mannered, hard working, and perversely twisted team. If you cast your eyes over this lovely bunch of ladies, ranging from late 20's to early 50's you wouldn't think anything dramatically out of the ordinary. You would think, your normal bunch of back office workers. Your normal Admin Personnel.

OH You could NOT be more wrong...........

To Assume, makes an Ass out of U and Me.....

Interesting isn't it. How you automatically feel safe with someone you have something in common. If someone mentions that they enjoy a particular musician, you start talking in depth over it. You admit you like that Artist to. When someone says they have experienced a certain thing, you have a tendency to open up and share with them if you have experience of a similar thing. This does always carry with the it the inherent risk of someone rejecting you. But its human nature to draw on your own experiences and/or knowledge when you are having a conversation....you assume that the person in front of you, who is talking about the same topic is on the same wave length as you.

So. With that in mind. Where do you stand when the topic is closer to home? When its something that is in its very nature, sensitive, or, at the very least, could leave you vulnerable? Where do you stand when the topic you are opening up on, is that you are Gay or Bi? And if someone is brave enough to 'out' themselves in conversation, do you admit that you are to? DO you share that information to form some kind of solidarity? Hmmmm. I think it depends on the situation. For some, it is easier in a faceless environment. So lets take this 'online.' Which consequently, is where I found myself the other day.........