What Kind of Person Kills?

I have been reading a story of a Bosnian man, who is not dissimilar to my taxi driver last week. The man was a soldier in Bosnia during the war, known as Kole. He served three years for not doing enough to prevent ethnic massacres.

I am reminded of the face of the taxi driver - the hooked nose and hawk-like eyes, eyelids dropped warily as he peers out from underneath. The man is from Yugoslavia, not Bosnia, not that he denies it so blatantly, rather, he explains that he is from Sarajevo in Yugoslavia. He is quiet then.

I wonder how many people know what it is like to fight, or who can understand the inevitability of death in a desperate situation (and in the end anyhow). I think that certain people live with death always at the door, people perhaps who have to fend off starvation or poverty in any form, people who must endure bias or intolerance of any sort. I listen to my compatriots speak of "government corruption" and the pointlessness of voting. I listen to people my age talking about being broke in reference to staying in for a night or two, and I'm guilty of that one too. I've heard people even in South America complain of being hard-done-by, and people describing deaths as "unthinkable" and "monsterous". I've heard people proudly announce how autopsies on telly interest them, and watched them squirm slightly as they attend to the disection, determined to watch everything, entranced by humans' morbid curiosity.

I wonder how many people think of it the way I do?

Death is stark in its simplicity. The manner of death is what is frightening, along with the inability to discern what has changed to make a living creature into a stinking shell. I firmly believe that we are bred to survive, and that if that survival is threatened, that we will kill if we deem it necessary, and if we are able. I think we humans are fickle and that when it suits us we alternately cry out how we would never succumb to murder or how we would kill to defend our children/siblings/freedom. I cringe at the need for people to believe that they are "right" and see the "truth" of wars, because quite often it seems to me to be mixed with an inability to balance the knowledge given with the facts you will never know.

I admire guerrilla fighters. Known for many years under many derogatory terms (terrorist/insurgent/freedom fighters/rebels) they embody the force of determination against might. I am raised to believe in and support "lost" causes, as many wars involving a struggle for independence are deemed to be. I admire the ability of a soldier to go to war with a very real understanding of what they face, as opposed to feeling infallible due to the might of their army. Their losses are rarely recorded and even more rarely remembered. They are not fools who follow blindly, but rather individuals who live as well and fast as they could, determined to secure an even better living for themselves if possible, but failing that, for others. It is a career and take determination similar to any other career.

I also admire the intelligence necessary in order to make such a command work. Don't get me wrong - I abhorr the idea of killing and the need to kill to make the news and make your cause valid. But I understand it. People are very quick to condemn me for this, as though I have tapped into a fear of theirs that involves admitting that they too can be stone cold on occasion.

Sometimes I think it is like medicine. As a medical student you have the desire to help humans, and ease their suffering. In order to do so you have to overcome a very natural horror of wounds and infections, and especially as a surgeon, cutting into live flesh. But your reason is to help others. And occasionally you will be responsible for deaths, in the belief that you are helping. If you allow the sorrow or difficulties to interfere with your mission, then you lose your ability to be of use. I think that fighting for liberty can be seen in this way.

I do not expect people to agree. And part of me is repulsed by what I have put down also. But I have been in a situation twice where I have had to fight for my life, and once I could not have killed, but the second time I know I would have, had I needed to. I don't know how I feel about that because previously I had thought I was incapable of it. Sometimes I feel strong. Othertimes I am disgusted by that feeling, the urge for strength. Because strength is about living as best you can and fighting or negotiating or feeling the need to impress yourself upon others are all weaknesses akin to attention-seeking. But sometimes there is no choice. And this I firmly believe.

I think it is very easy for a person to make a decision from the comfort of having choices and some stability. I think I cannot even answer this myself.

Rolling with it

God, I had a mad morning. I woke up at 9, the time I'm meant to be in at, got a taxi from a guy from former Yugoslavia who asked me to take the day off to spend with him! Hehehe...hmm...tempting - a complete stranger offering me ONE DAY ONLY! Hehehe. I told him it was too short notice. But I'd a facinating conversation on the way in. Apparently we both eat lots of olives and spinach.

Last night was Australian Day and my friends were in the shittest bar ever, Northside, celebrating. There was a wet tshirt competition which frankly is a bit boring for girls, especially when the tshirts barely had time to get wet before they were ripped off in a drunken frenzy. The girl who won looked like a boy and won cos she was wearing no knickers and fell over...but the whole place was a heaving mass of drunken idiots who couldn't tell their (collective) arse from their (not so collective) elbow...

Oh yeah, the gig went well. I was feeling bloated so I decided to wear a jumpsuit - hehehe. Why hide it when you can be hilarious and flaunt it. I danced like I was on show, and caught the eye of an Italian that I liked the look of so much that when he came and sat next to me I left because I was too embarressed. Hence the subsequent madness at Australian Place.

I met the mad texting indecisive boy I'd kissed ages ago, and he was flirting with me for all he was worth, and then suddenly "You talk to her - you invited her!" Well, the irony was that I wasn't interested in talking to him anyway and here he was pretending again I'd shown up to follow him around again. I was so disgusted I laughed. How can you be offended by that? Anyway he chattered on to me the whole night until finally I grabbed Elbow by the arm and told him I wanted to leave. Elbow is a pet. We'd a laugh and a roll home, after which I rolled up towards the canal and managed to get deep into conversation with a Catalan and a Mexicano, before rolling the remainder of the way and into bed.

Pride and Escape

Well I outdid myself last night. And I am paying for it today cos I am exhausted, and nearly cranky, but not quite.

I went to Earnest's house and we spent an hour going through the songs (once each) for tonight's gig, and then we wrote more of that electronica we are doing. By god it's brilliant. I thought when we listened back that I'd be disappointed, but as soon as he clicked play we looked at each other startled, and started headbanging. It's great. Kind of scarey, but great. It's a riff I wrote when I was about 15 and has really hard beats and drive charges right through (which we have to play around with and edit out in places). But we played a piano duet over the entire track that is plain creepy, and then we just recorded live over two mics, and it is hilarious and WEIRD.....everything from teasing to screaming....

After I left I discovered that my fairy friend was unable to come out afterall as she had to work. I will be starting work there soon as well in order to try and save some cash to go away. As will my friend Seventeen. The reason this is relevent will become apparent.

So instead I met the Lord in an old man's pub for a beer. It was closing time and I did the gentlemanly thing and got him a pint. We graduated on to the Middle Ground where I spend each and every Monday, and there was a band playing Sting and Van Halen tunes. I was having a ball despite the fact I'd a chronic allergy. Anyway, the long and short of it is, the Lord put his arm around me and I said I was uncomfortable with that. It was the end of the night, and though not mean, I've made it clear for a while that I'm uncomfortable. I told him honestly that I didn't trust him, and it didn't matter who's fault cos that's not how it works. I enjoy his company but I don't want to be beholden, nor him to me. He nodded and agreed he is a bit of a mess. I left him room to make it sound like his idea....pride does not matter where escape is concerned.

Anyway, Seventeen was in the pub too, as were some other people I know. As usual we kind of hung around outside til the Lord had to leave due to "an emergency call from a girlfriend" and I got picked up by a Spaniard. Seventeen extracted me from the Spaniard's grip, because I was chatting to him and walking along and he thought it unsafe, so I stood on the corner with Seventeen and Sue chatting. Or rather they chatted mostly. Sue told me she is over the Crow after having kissed him (which is what happens with Crow). Seventeen told us both he didn't understand why he had never slept with a woman and he is 17 but has had sex with some men, even though he's not into it. We must of looked surprised, because he rolled his eyes embarressedly and said everyone reacted like that. Thing is, it's cos he's very friendly and straight-like, and it just seemed odd. Plus the fact that he is into women. Apparently he just never gets close, as women just want to be friends. I said (here we go) that if I thought it'd help I'd bring him home, but I didn't think it would. Sue roared with laughter and I shrugged ashamedly. I know, he's 17. But I was a smart 17 too. Anyway, he said it might help, but I think we both knew it would be a bad idea. Besides, I suspect I just wanted him to feel wanted a bit, as he seemed to think he is just nice but not sexually attractive to women, but I doubt that very much. Not that I'm usually given to being nice.

On my way (stumbling and singing) home I met some more friends of mine outside of Fairground. One of them fucked me around in the past, and told everyone we'd slept together, which we hadn't in the biblical sense. I share many beds, but rarely bodies. Anyway, after some chips and banter, I went home and got a text message saying it was nice to see me. I had put the fear of god into this guy, and that's why he'd been an asshole, but here he is months later, apologising by text to me. He'd kept my phone number, even though I'd long-deleted his....hmmm. Anyway, after a suspicious start, I was friendly and said I'd see him soon. Life is easy when you forgive. It's easy, provided you don't forget.

Anyway, I think I am going to have to skip my last dress-making class as it coincides with that gig tonight. I will be playing a song I just learned yesterday. I can't wait!

Office Epiphany

I hate the post! In order to go to the post office I have to take a lift from one of the guys at work, and it always rains. The post office is tiny and the postmaster is drunk, poor fellow, with his ruddy cheeks, shaky left-handed scrawl and cheery-sad chatter. There is often a junkie dazed and sinking in front of me, and the company cheques are not supposed to be accepted, and are invariably short of the amount I need.

I think perhaps I should be looking for a new job. The upside of this job is the amount of free-time, all be it pure procrastinatory creativeness on my part, and the pleasant people. But the disorder and general handymanness of my job drives me bonkers. I don't need to use my brain as most of my job involves things like filing and checking things. I understand the place of filing but for god's sake, people are so anal about things! It's almost as though they ask you to check something simply so that they can put it off again for a bit. Then there's the phone calls of fake friendliness, and strangers through the door whom I have no interest in making coffee for. I avoid emptying the dishwasher and I dislike writing letters, unless they are legal.

What do I like? I like writing addresses on envelopes, for some reason! I like hanging pictures and taking apart and fixing printers. I like researching music and printers on the net, and ordering stationary and ensuring it's all recycled. I like organising beer and cakes for my colleagues, and anything else that I do is not work-related I'm afraid.

Perhaps I should look for a job as a painter and decorator. I like jobs that are creative or challenging but where you actually see the usefulness of what you do. Let's face it, if people were honest and reliable there would be no need for the mass of paperwork through which I wade daily. Painter and decorator is physically tiring but satisfying. And you don't need qualifications.

Now for my daily rant about crap. Especially since I was at my Monday Night again last night. I have been in good form lately, I suspect possibly even happy, and the best part is I know that I have absolutely nothing special to be happy about, something that has lead me to conclude that I am very fortunate to be in a place where I can exercise this positivity without cause. I take on the appearance of my emotions, so when I am happy I shine. The Crow knows this, and was like a leech last night. I don't think I have ever gotten so many hugs and pats from him in my life. His sister was there, looking like a little Jennifer Lopes. It's gas, cos she's a guard, and she obviously loves to dress up in her time off. She's a lovely looking woman. But I think Crow will be in my life for a while yet, even though it's from a distance. It's just a case of belonging to the family whether you want to or not (whether he wants to or not)...

I just spent the last 20 minutes gabbing to my sister about how dying dogs die sometimes despite help and how you just have to get on with it. We were agreeing and wondering if we are cold-hearted. But due to the elongated rambling, I have little time left before I have to go. I am off to practise with Earnest tonight, followed by an outing with my Fairy friend to an open mic night. Lord of the Dance asked me to dinner (and I kissed the Jewish anti-semite on Saturday) but I declined. I did explain what I was doing and invited him along if he wanted. I don't think he suspects anything (the male ego is a wonderous thing). I will have to explain it to him. It's gas - I met one of our mutual friend's last night, and he asked me how the Lord was. I told him straight how I felt and why, and he was niether surprised nor mocking. In fact, he is a lovely man and said he agreed with my assessment of the Lord as a liability, a child who doesn't know what he wants, but a fecinating guy. You see, I am a feminine female. I do not feel the need to prove my sexuality. I refuse to be a test for someone who is unsure of themselves. Besides, I love being sensual and loving, and in order to be either, I need to really have a fire with someone. I do not have this with the Lord. I will hold hands for comfort, but only for a little while. I will not lie about it.

Anyway, enough drivel. I'm off to catch the DART and listen to Soulwax -

Shurrup about the Cat!

Poor auld Kaptain Kat is sick. He has a stomach bug and a flu and a fever. I brought him to the vet yesterday (where he lived for his first 5 months in existance anyway) and he barely moved. His eyes were yellow and his white fur warm and dirty cos he wasn't arsed to clean himself. He languished on the table despondantly until the vet stuck a thermometre up his bum, at which he howled and took off straight into my arms. I got to play vetenary nurse.

So I have had to cancel my trip to the wesht cos this cat needs nursing. Every half hour last night I'd to syringe him some rehydration fluid and water. He hates it. He took his anti-biotics this morning no problem, but he hates the drinking. I plonked him down by his water bowl, pointing and ordering him to drink. The little bashtard pretended to drink but didn't! Honestly! I was secretly proud, but it was a very human thing to do...lapping the air above the water but not actually touching the water. I wonder what he reckons I'll do if he doesn't pretend. I waved the syringe at him, and he pretended some more. Poor eejit's gonna die if I don't shove water into him. Now Way and Tough luck pussy!

This morning as I rode into work on the train, it occured to me that all of the adverts around me were not relevent to me. Strange, isn't it? I don't have a land-line, don't eat meat, am not interested in having a car, don't use vodafone, already speak German...gas. Let the ads shout, cos they aint shoutin at me...

Had chocolate croissants this morning courtesy of work. The place is like a morgue. They are doing business with a partner that my mother used to work for, who have fucked up a few deals, and they are still sticking by the partner. I know for a fact the partner writes dodgy codes and is going down the swanny. I tried to tell them but I am only a lowly receptionist/everything-elser. No matter, taint my problem. Not til the company goes BUST!

Burreh...turns out we haven'y been paid this week either. Feckin' incompetant financial controller who has never been stuck for money in her life thought it'd be fine to leave us hanging til Monday. She has a rock the size of Gibraltar on her finger that you couldn't buy with all our salaries combined. Of course after Christmas, the two 31 day months that comprise December and January have left everyone (except Ms. Cruella DeVille) broke. Lucky for me I squirreled away some "Hammer money" as I like to think of it. So tonight after nursing Kaptain Kat I can go get hammered.

Oh yeah, meant to mention, it never rains but it floods. After the shenanigans with Lord of the Dance, a second unexpected offer came into play last night. Well, hardly into play, into existance would be more correct. From a farmer (beef, no less) down in the midlands, who owns a convenience store. Nice man, BIG, pasty and baldy, sweaty and earnest, totally not my type and to be honest and mean about it, someone I would be inclined to have nightmares about growing intimate with. Sorry, but it's true. Anyway, I got a text that said "Coming up for the weekend, do you want to meet for a drink tomorrow night? Provided you're not smitten with another man :)"

Well I am not the biggest fan of smiley faces, especially when they are used as an excuse for hiding something. Also, I felt it was near impossible to get out of declining civilly, cos Farmer is a nice boy. But he saw me the other night at that party also (maybe I'm ovulating - could that be where the interest stems from?) and I woulda thought he'd know by now I'm not interested. I didn't expect him to be interested and I feel freaked out by it a bit. I'm not sure why, but it always scares me a bit when someone is interested cos I feel like they must of miscalculated somewhere or not looked at me properly. Anyway, I wrote back a text saying "Sorry, off to the wesht this weekend (which I'm not anymore now) and sure amn't I always smitten with somebody". It was the nicest way I could think of to say it....oh feck!

Speaking of which, that reminds me, since I've started writing this blog(another word I dislike), okay, this journal, I have had an unprecedented amount of men in my life. For over 3 years I have been single, with rarely a sniff of interest and suddenly I'm on fire. How come? Dunno. Maybe as the Lord of the Dance says "Because curves are coming back into fashion". Hehehe, I sniggered. Bums are back. Hehehe.

More Cats, Two for Tango, and Icicles in the Eyes

Sure enough I didn't stay in on Tuesday. I got a call from Lord of the Dance to go see a dance show (and little did I know my name for him would be so apt)! I refused at first, aware that it might come across as playing hard to get, as I was genuinely tired. But the show was finishing, so I had to go see it - it was the Nutcracker, but set in an office. Brilliant. I loved it.

Afterwards we went for a few drinks, but I was tired and wanted to go home. The Lord wanted to "Lie next to (me) on the pillow passing the time talking" so I said fine he could come home with me but I was going to sleep. He wanted to show me his room first, and that was when I started to feel that he was young. He wanted my approval.

I went back to his room and I am such a skank that I took a bottle of beer with me stealthily picked from the pub. I sat and glowered at the dark green walls, and tried to imagine sunlight. I looked into the face of the Lord and found it wanting...

"I'm going home," I said. *Stagger**stagger**wave*. He looked up and I shook my head. "I'm going home,I need to go home, I NEED to go HOME!"
"Will I see you again?"
"Okay" *I stared at the ground willing the door to open and then turned my back on him*.
"When?" His voice was quite soft now.
"Dunno," I said pulling at the door. Then, realising I was being very rude, I turned to face him and gave him a hug. "I'm very tired, sorry. Next week. I'm in Galway for the weekend."
"I'll call you next week then,"he said earnestly (was he messing with me?).
Mmm. I tripped down the stairs noticing it was far further than I remembered climbing, and ran to the gates and out into the Icy Cold.

Yes. My friend Earnest says he is not surprised I am still single. He laughs and shakes his head in despair when I describe anything I say or do. It's good cos I always feel that the real reason I am single is not that I am unwantable, rather scared and shy in a way people don't get. It is not my fault, it is THEIR fault...yesh....yesh it ish....

Anyway, I have decided that since I do not wish to be seen in public with the Lord, that it is definately a sign that I shouldn't fuck around, even for a bit of TLC. I will sort it out into a friendship next time I see him, provided that he needs to be told. I hate the idea of it being spread round that I'm with him when I'm not.

So yesterday I avoided my dressmaking class as I feel intimidated by my teacher, and I went to a music night of another boy with whom I get on well, although we have some blazing rows. Let's call him AS for Anti-Semite, cos he is. He told me there is no such place as Palestine. I told him I didn't believe in God but that didn't mean there wasn't one. I wanted to tell him that even Killer Sharon admits Palestine has a right to exist. I wanted to say that I was the bigger person cos him saying that to me didn't make me want to kill him, or feel the need to stamp on him (as he was evidently trying to do) but rather made me pity him. Incidently, he texts me cool, flirty texts quite a bit.

Anyway, at the music night I was due to play, but in the end I didn't, as there were too many people there. Instead I chatted to a boy I know a while, who is honest and sings in his own accent. Eddie. He was there with his mates Derry and Jack, and Derry has a foul mouth - she is one of the funniest women (and most stunning) that I have ever met. I went back to their house and we chatted and smoked and ate chips cos I was hungry. Eddie was quiet and kept disappearing. The lads accussed him (jokingly) of having a bottle of whiskey hidden downstairs. It was dark and there were Christmas lights on and a wee fire in the hearth. I knew he was crying. I made some inarticulate comment about "Icicles in your eyes" but he got me and nodded. I wonder did it have anything to do with me asking about his Christmas. I said he didn't have to tell me, but he did anyway; that he'd been alone and hadn't minded. Hadn't had a choice, from what I gather. I like this boy, I really do, and I told him I didn't know how to comfort him,so I slouched down beside him and said silly things which made him laugh. He is a pet. I hope someday that he can talk to me cos I didn't want to push him especially with so many people in the room. One on one is best.

At about 01.30 I went home, and the wind was warm and vibrant like the strings on a harp on my cheek. I love the wind even though it burns my skin when it is cold. I sang and heard the high notes cross the street before me as I walked.

My cat is sick. I thought at first he had a hairball (his first), but he was reluctant to move, and didn't eat much (my cat is a glutton usually). He also didn't purr much when I stroked him and seemed irritated. I phoned my sister this morning and made an appointment for him at the Vet's. I had to cancel a meeting about a part-time job in a pub and an experiment involving a plasma ball in a physics lab, but sure it happens. You'll have that.

I hope he's ok.

Meantime, I'm contemplating moving job.

Cats, Rats, and Twinkletoes

It's a gas thing with Irish people, but we have this habit of saying things that are actually quite meaningful if you ever listen. Just now 2 of my colleagues are on the phone I hear, one after the other, "Ah not too bad". It's a gas phrase.
-How are you?
-Ah not too bad.
As in bad but not TOO bad. Standard (cryptic) answers for the same phrase include:
-Ah sure you know yourself
-Could be worse
-Motoring along
-Up to 90
-Still Alive
All of these phrases are amusing in there own right, and although they deserve more questioning, are designed to let you leave it at that. Of course, once you start into how someone REALLY is, you'll never hear the end of it.
-How are you?
-Ah you know yourself. The auld cancerous lump is nearly certainly cancerous and I've been having trouble with gout on me feet and me ingrown toenails are killin' me but sure you'll have that!

But that is not what I was going to write about today. I was going to have an aul rant about the weekend. Sure, an' dint I have a grand time o' it? Friday involved too much garlic followed by drink, but Saturday was interesting. I went out for dinner with my buddy Ceartaighsin, a tall lanky sorta fella who'd probably do well in a mafia film. Actually, he's a pet and when you're in his company you feel like the centre of the world. He was all dickied-up for work and I was jeering him I'd tell his girlfriend that we'd gone for a date. Afterwards, I went to a party of my friend Moon. There were some boring people there as there inevitably are, but before long the gin did it's job and I was dancing. I'd bought a bottle of gin on my way down and got ID'd, despite the fact that I am nearly 7 years over the legal drinking age. Not only that, but the shop was my feckin' local for years, and they serve 15-year-olds and all!

Anyway, I ended up dancing salsa in my heels (and strange holographic dress that I bought in a fit of madness one day)on a slippy wet floor. I haven't danced salsa in ages. I was being spun this way and that and it was exhilirating cos I was about a centimetre away from falling on my snot the whole time. Everytime I was spun around I kept spinning. And the guy I was dancing with was a decent amount taller than me.

I walked home with Piscin later, and the Lord of the Dance. I dunno how I got the impression he'd nowhere to stay ( I suspect he lied and told me so), but anyway, since I knew he was gay I invited him to stay in my house. Sure enough, I was being an eejit and before I know it I am being embraced by another goddamned green-eyed brown-haired musician. I swear to god, I don't know what's wrong with me! But I haven't laughed so much in years!

The next day I went for breakfast with him and who should we meet but Piscin so I invited her along too. I'd already decided that although Lord Twinkletoes is very intelligent and likeable, that he is also a liar and drama queen extraordinare. If he likes me he can damn well pull up his socks and chase cos I am not chasing him. I'd fun and I appreciated the warmth, but the fact is that the previous time we met, I boxed him solid and you can bet he deserved it. Although he's forgotten, I have not. Anyway, I decided it was fun and that was that.

So we had breakfast in a kip where the landlord slammed everything down on the table until he cracked a cup, and then we saw a film. The Merchant of Venice. Al Pacino gives one of his best performances in one of the worst-ever films that I have had the misfortune of seeing. As we left, Lord Muck asked for my telephone number and has texted "goodnight"s since. Messer. We'll see what happens.

Rather than dwell on it, last night I went out with Bradley who is over from the States. He is gay also, so I warned him that I'd just taken advantage of a gay guy and to watch out cos he is my type...we'd a great night, and I played at Crow's gig and Bradley insisted that Crow likes me. I think to be honest that Crow saw Bradley and was jealous I was paying attention to Bradley rather than him, but I suspect he doesn't really have an interest in me other than when he sees I'm with someone else. Silly really, but there you go. I'd be lying if I pretended it was more.

In any case, my best friend is disgusted with me, another school mate thinks I should hop along after the Lord of the Dance, Bradley thinks I should chase Crow, Crow thinks I'm mad, and you know what? I really don't care and I fully intend to do nothing other than keep going out and doing my thing, only try not to get into so many situations.

Tonight I plan to stay home, but we'll see if that happens or not. It usually doesn't

On another note, my cat loves Bradley, which has led to lots of nasty jokes which I probably encouraged. My sister is giving away cats to practically everyone she meets, and I toyed with the idea of sending him to her.

PR stands for Pricking Round...

There is a plan in this business park to organise a human chain of 400 people and then get the media in to cover the event in order to raise awareness and money for the victims of the tsunami in Asia. In all honesty, who is not aware of this already? I wrote to the park manager in order to express my concern that this was a publicity stunt on the back of the tragic death of an employee of the park, (along with the fact that I know the guy organising it is a PR Prick) but stating clearly that the fund-raising part was a good idea. Next thing, I get a call from this PR guy himself who promptly accuses me of being uncharitable and hampering an important event! I explained that I was not being uncharitable, where upon the slimey git said "Oh I didn't mean YO-O-OU, I mean some companies...."

Yes, and I am Barbara Streisland. Next thing he asks who he can speak to in HR so as to get things speeded up. Little bollix. I told him politely to fuck off and wait til he hears from us. I hate that kind of shit. I have just sent an email to the park manager asking if they will guarantee us that no Branding or Logos will be used by anyone involved in the project. Think I'm being cynical? Well aside from the fact this guy is famous in this city for having done so before let me tell you a little personal experience.

A few years back my friend was murdered (incidently, they never found who did it) and a "Benefit" night was organised in her honour. It turns out that the family never agreed to it, secondly that the guy organising it was never a friend of the victim's, and that he had sold all these malicious stories to the papers about the victim which were very hurtful to the family as well as being complete lies, in order to gain free publicity for his band. People just love a tragedy. And here I am writing about it - the irony is not lost, trust me.

Anyway, I was ready to go pop, so I just had to get it out of my system. Aside from that I am still in a ludicrously good mood. I have been listening to great music, and I made a great track that's a mix of industrial guitar and vocals with electronica. It's not finished as I am still programming it at a friend's house, but I am definately getting my own equipment now.

Also meeting up with Gluin and the other boy sorted out a lot for me. I feel like I don't want to be chasing people. I feel like if someone cares they will approach me at some point. I want respect...without it I'm not interested. Besides, worrying about boys just stops me doing other things. This way I can throw my energy into working on music and such.

It's a strange thing, but being single for 3 years has brought me (eventually) round to the person I was before, that I thought I'd lost. I have my energy and zeal back, I also have some of my lust for music back, and things are once again all possible. There is no such thing as impossible.

I may take a welding course also, but we will see. I hope I stay this person for a while now.

Incident #2

Last night I went out with my friend Piscin to a pub where I knew I would find Gluin, the boy that I have taken a liking to recently. This all started with Incident #1, which was on Thursday the 30th of December.

Thursday I did a gig with my band. It went well, but I was feeling restless, so I left the venue early and made my way home, knowing that I was bound to bump into someone on the way and find some fun. Sure enough, as I passed by the Light bar, I was stopped by a guy I know called Lichen, who previously had a crush on me, but in whom I am not interested in the least. Reason? He is a mess, bigger even than myself. No thanks. But I did take him up on the offer of going for a drink, and we went inside. Inside I met a bunch of his friends, including some rather attractive Czech boys, one of whom was flirting with all and sundry despite the fact that his girlfriend was there. In fact, she was positively encouraging him. It didn't take me long to figure out that they were popping tabs, and I declined one whilst waiting for the fun to appear.

Soon enough we went across the road the the Fairground bar, where the bouncers insisted the place was closed to anyone else. We thought this was just a ploy but it turns out SnowPatrol were having some sort of an after-show party. In any case, we got in after a fashion, and after ages of standing at the bar getting drinks, I gave Lichen his and unceremoniously dumped him. I didn't feel like talking shite for the evening, and yes I was being selfish.

I saw a stool gleaming in the corner. Well, I'd been on my feet all day pulling pints and then gigging, and so I sat down, only to be told someone was sitting there. I looked up to beg a few minutes, and realised I'd sat down next to the most handsome man in the pub. So I decided his friend could move cos I was staying there.

I'd a great time, especially when I discovered this boy gave as good as he got when it came to smarty-bootsing. In fact, he is very quick. So I stayed in his/their company despite Lichen's ominous appearances muttering "Don't do it". Afterwards, we went for chips and I went back to Gluin's house, along with his band mates, where we slept all crushed into one bed (with strangers, like strangers...). Anyway, turns out the house is where my old bass-player is living and well.....I have a fearful crush on this new boy.

So that was Incident #1. Incident #2 was last night when I knew he would be down in Fairground and I dragged my friend down for a Sunday night pint. We danced to some crap music and I felt gawky and awkward and ugly (it's amazing how you let yourself down at crucial times like this). And I came to a few conclusions:

I am going nowhere working in this job.
I am an intelligent and lively if occasionally foolish young lady who is likeable.
Gluin is probably starting/seeing someone right now, and if it's meant to be it'll come, but there's no sense hanging around.
3 years is really a long time to be single.
I may need to move to Belgium for a bit of excitement but I can start off with a weekend break or two.
I love dancing.
I am going to do a radio show with Piscin, and from there maybe we can write a pilot for a telly show like we always said we would. A bit of money and light-hearted entertainment wouldn't go astray.
No man is an island, and I want to catch a plane to it's nearest neighbor asap.

Start at the start...

Oh God, I don't really know if it's a good idea to start this today because I am suffering from the mother of all hangovers. I feel like I am doing something subversive in setting up a blog, especially after reading about all the people who have been fired for keeping them, and I've been found out in an online diary before. I never use people's real names, but just a good friend found me by chance and got very upset that I didn't tell her some of the stuff I'd written. But that's finally come full circle and we are talking again.

Who am I? I am a 24 year old female musician who works full-time and gets bored easily. I put myself into situations which can be hilarious or boring or dangerous because I get bored. Usually I spend a day or so panicking about stuff, and then I move on despite the fact that it remains unresolved. You know what? Why am I telling you this? It's not up to me to decide how I come across and anyway, I probably have an ulterior motive lying somewhere.
So enough. I will write about events from here on in(or try to).

Minus my Coat

I remember last night. By God, was I hammered! And some bastard stole my coat!

I went to my usual Monday night haunt to play some tunes. The Crow was there but this time I didn't rise when he told me I looked good. No matter how insecure I am, one thing I do not want is a boy who I have to teach. Sorry guys, but I can barely look after myself.

Anyway, I think that's what pushed me to get hammered. I had the words to a new song scrawled on my right hand, but I knew that tonight would be an old song night, and after a few free pints I was dancing around like a lunatic. I did what I thought was the worst rendition of a few of my songs, and giggled outright in the middle of them. People loved it. You know what, I don't get audiences. I get deadly nervous standing up there but it seems that the less competent I am, the more people enjoy it. What's the craic - what do you guys want?
Poor auld Earnest was the one left looking after me though when I collapsed on the street crying to my usual tune of "I've had enough"(a line that has made it into more than one of my songs). When I discovered my coat was stolen (for the second time in as many weeks) and it was bitterly cold outside and the bouncer was a prick about it....well, I'd had about enough then. What kind of a man, on seeing a girl obviously distraught because she has had something stolen, says "You only noticed it was gone now cos you are drunk. Serves you right for giving me abuse."

1) No matter how drunk I get (with the exception of the night in Skinnyvale with the valium) I have an accurate memory.

2) My friend was sat on the coat all night, and I was keeping an eye on it.

3) I hadn't been giving him abuse, but I will now. I kept on about that until he admitted he might have mixed me up with someone else.

4) It was fucking freezing! He wouldn't even let me look for it.

Anyway, I have to go in today and see can I find it. But I'm sure it's gone.

Work today has been fine - not much to do as usual, and I suspect that this blog is going to become my new time-waster. I foolishly let slip some of the things I got up to over Christmas and Colleague#2 is having a field-day. Colleague#1 is bonkers anyway, and we just have conversations of laughter, but Colleague#2 loves anything that he can tease me about - the Northern Humour. You see, I live with 2 lesbians - that sounds crude - I would rather not have to say it that way, but the reality is that once he found out that they were lovers he has been going on and on about it. And then when I ended up a few nights ago sharing a bed with 3 lads (yes, strangers, I know, I know) it suddenly became a mad orgy to him. The problem is I don't think I do much to correct it either. I blush very easily but I keep talking and make things worse. And my life isn't that simple really either. I do stupid things. But I know full-well what I'm doing. I don't know what it is - I just get bored and create situations.