Kizzy

I'm holed up in the spare room, on my parents' annoyingly slow computer, with a telephone wire dangerously stretching down the stairs to the phone socket, and the mouse balanced on my knee.

They've moved it in here while they get some work done to the house. They are decorating inside and getting new pebble-dashing outside. So far it's in the stages of having a layer of plaster on - in which some kids have written a few choice words and drawn cartoon penises, all down the side of the house. Nice.

I went shopping this morning, after my trip to the garage (apparantly there's nothing wrong with my car, they can't do anything about the engine fault light coming on and off, but it doesn't mean there's an actual fault). Bought myself a new cardigan and bag, thought I deserved a treat. Very very nearly gave into the temptation of chocolate. But I didn't. For now.

Bought some socks too, as I'm here until tomorrow and I'm already resorting to wearing dirty socks today. So I got some with pac-man on .

Sitting in the garage, waiting for 'little bastard' to get fixed. My sister used to work here, so far 2 people have mistaken me for her. And they don't realise until I correct them. A few other people said hello probably thinking I'm her. I smile, but they probably think I'm being rude by not knowing who they are. I get that a lot. I don't think we look that alike. Plus she's six years older than me, which I like to remind everyone, especially her.

Staying at my parents this weekend. I forgot to pack any socks. So I'm wearing yesterdays. Dirty.

A trip to my local shop is always an... experience. It’s as if all the chavs in town are concentrated into that one area around half 6 of an evening.

Half the people that go into, or hang around outside, that shop seem to have no sense of manners, hygiene or personal space. They stand too close in the queue, and most of them reek, forcing me to then push myself and my shopping into the person in front, often a case of the lesser of two evils. Many a time I’ve been in there when the shop assistants have went round spraying the air freshener after particularly bad stinkers have left the building.

Tonight, there were 3 little lads about 7 shouting obscenities at each other, words I didn’t even know at that age, and if I had I knew that repeating them even once in the way that kids experimentally do to see what they can get away with, would undoubtedly get me a smack. Let alone using them as everyday language.

I admit I’m no angel when it comes to watching my language, my blog does suffer from the odd gratuitous swear word - I even shock myself sometimes when I realise just how much I do swear. But I was brought up in a house where the only bad language I’d hear would be of the mildest variety, and only overheard through closed doors way after we were supposed to be fast asleep. There are rules I stick to – no swearing in front of children, my parents, elderly relatives and only mildly/when absolutely justified/under my breath at work. The not swearing in front of/at my parents has proved rather difficult at times.

Before that I’d held the door open for a bloke with a pram. He strutted in, never took any notice, no ‘thank you’, not even a smile in my direction, closely followed by the Burberry wearing girlfriend tottering in.

Then I had to step away from the stench of a girl about 15, who leaned in to talk to the also-to-close-for-comfort woman behind me in the queue, telling her how ‘Ay, me mam kicked us out agen, dint she, aiiiye.’

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no snob, I’ve been brought up on a council estate just like this one, but it just amazes me how chavtastic people can be. I feel like I was caught up in some bad sketch show, complete with all the stereotypes.

Just seeing if I can send posts via email from my phone ... So if you're reading this it worked. I forgot how yummy skittles were. Im discovering forgotten sweety goodness to replace my usual source of sugar, which is not helping the diet plan. Oh well. On that note, I'm hungry. Off to lunch.

Eek! I think I have inadvertently eaten some chocolate.

I needed a sugar fix, and as it’s day one of lent, aka the chocolate ban, I decided to settle for liquorice allsorts. Which apparently (according to the ingredients, which is probably an accurate source of information) contain cocoa powder. I think it’s just the brown ones.

As it was an honest mistake, and as I really wouldn’t consider liquorice allsorts as chocolate, I think I may let it slide. Just this once.

I don’t want to have failed on the first day!

At least give it a couple.

...without chocolate?

Impossible.

I won't last the week. If even a day.

But as my holiday is less than 2 months away, drastic action is needed. And I think giving up chocolate for lent is just what I need.

I've just eaten a massive bag of mini eggs, my last chocolatey treat until easter.

I'd be more successful giving up sex. That I could do for 40 days and nights. Not by choice, it just wouldn't be very difficult to give up something I don't have! Though maybe if I say I'm giving up sex, I'll meet the hottest guy ever, who I just can't keep my hands off, thus failing my self imposed ban.

On second thoughts, that's unlikely to happen.

Was in a meeting all day. Didn't do much except drink tea and eat cake.
Went back to the office about 4 and studied for a few hours.

Made it to the library yesterday. Even managed to find a few books there.
So even though I haven't started my assignment yet, I'm feeling a little bit better that I've actually done some reading.

And a reporter for the local paper was at the meeting today, she's going to see if I can go to the news office for half a day, see how everything works. Which will be really useful for my assignment, as I've to pretend I'm an editor managing my team and producing a newsletter! It will be interesting I think to see a newsroom in action.

Trying to talk myself into going swimming tomorrow morning. But my bed is just looking too appealing.

Scientists have apparently developed a pill that can wipe out painful memories. It’s intended to be used to help people suffering from post traumatic stress disorder.

Getting rid of bad memories as if nothing has happened may seem like a nice idea in theory.

There are many memories of mine that make me cringe, things that I often wish I could forget. The drunken mistakes, the embarrassing moments. The times I’ve not known when enough was enough, when to stop talking/drinking/wanting something I couldn’t have.

But if I erased these mistakes, I’d be losing all the lessons learned from them.
I can see how it might be appealing to be able to wipe out truly traumatic events from your past, but where do you draw the line? Who gets to decide if someone really would be better off forgetting, and who should live with the memories? You might be able to take away the memory of your past, but no pill can turn back time.

Memory is a precious thing. I’m sure anyone who has ever watched their loved one forget who they are, and stare at them blankly, suffering from dementia, would agree.

Messing around with something so precious could be disastrous. I’d rather keep the bad memories than risk losing any good ones in the process.

Our memories - the good and the bad, the funny, happy and painful - make us who we are. Our past experiences make up our present personality, and removing a part of this could have serious implications.

Science continues to push ethical boundaries, sometimes but not always to our benefit.

I had a weekend of study planned.

But none of the books I needed were in the library. (I need the arts and media library apparantly.)

Perfect excuse to ditch the plan and head home for a night out.

Which was all good and well, even fun. But The Ex was out. And I cried.

Not in front of him. But near him. At the bar.

Tears, followed by downing of my vodka.

He noticed me and waved. (I was dry-eyed by this point luckily). Later, he came over to me, making painful small talk as we do so well. He held my hand. Or maybe I held his. That's more likely. Though it was only briefly, before I left with my friends to get tikka wraps from the takeaway.

I was upset he didn't seem bothered to see me. He usually hangs around and keeps looking over. He didn't seem to even notice me for ages.

My friend tried to make me feel better, maybe he didn't recognise me because of my new hair. Or maybe he didn't want to come over as I was with a guy, who is gay. But he didn't know that. Potentially could have been taken the wrong way.

Really I think he didn't bother because he just doesn't care. It's fine for him, he can treat me how he likes and feel totally fine when he sees me. Yet when I see him, I feel sick and still secretly wish he would come over and tell me he's realised he's been an idiot and wants to be with me.

Even though I know that's not the right thing for me. He's never been the right thing for me, otherwise I wouldn't feel like this now.

So, my jesus-sandal-wearing crush isn't gay, as I suspected.

He has a girlfriend, who lucky me will get to meet at a work thing tomorrow night.

So I've pretty much got just as much chance as if he were gay.

Damn it.

He's a bit older than my usual type. As in he's older than me, which is a rarity. In his late 30s I think. It's hard to tell. He's got a really good job, that one could only get with years of experience, and he's got this style going on thats a confusion between trendy and odd. So his age is really a mystery.

He walked past me in the corridor today and the woman I was with turned to me (while he was in ear shot) and said 'Oooh he is soooo gorgeous, don't you think?'. I went bright red which then prompted her to accuse me of fancying him.

I scurried off down the corridor giggling like a school girl.

My bastard straigteners broke.

I went swimming at 7am again this morning, and my smugness was very short lived when I realised my straighteners weren't working. Luckily I had a hairband with me,to hold back my un-straightened fringe.

It looked only slightly less stupid than the other option, of leaving my unruly fringe down without straightening it. And it digged into my head all day.

Now I've got to buy some new ones. Another big expense the day after paying for a holiday (Benidorm, April, Hen party - only decided to go on Sunday).

I went swimming this morning. At 7am.

And I've felt smug about it all day.

I even made it into work ten minutes before 9. Which is unheard of. I'm rarely on time, let alone early.

I hate hate hate hate hate my hair.

Feeling a bit more sober now.

Yesterday I went to get my hair cut. I was feeling impulsive. Told my hairdresser I might fancy a fringe.

I was thinking aloud. The thought had literally entered my head that second.

Two minutes later and it's too late to take it back.

I now have a fringe.

For the first time since I was about 8.

What was I thinking?

On a Sunday evening.

And with work tomorrow.

Hehehehehe.

Copious amounts of wine this afternoon with work people.

A lot of crap was said by me.

I want to go back out!

No really, I mean it.

I got chocs today. Unfortunately they were only from a company I deal with at work, that they send to all their clients. Still, it's the closest to a valentine's treat I'm going to get.

This year, Valentine's Day has kind of crept up on me without much imposition. Sure, I've seen the adverts on tv, and displays in shop windows, but considering I'm single and my recent state of mind, it's not really bothered me.

Maybe it's because last year, when I wasn't single, it was still pretty much a non-event, so I don't feel like I'm missing much.

Ok, so we exchanged presents, but while I'd raided Ann Summers for some 'special gifts', I got some smellies that you'd buy for your mum or sister.

There were no big plans, no fancy night out, or romantic night in. He suggested on the day we go out for a meal, but left me to ring round all the fully-booked restaurants before deciding to just stay in and make pancakes. Which went horribly wrong.

I don't think we even had sex that night. In fact, Valentine's Day was the beginning of the end for us. We never did get to try out the presents I'd bought. Wasted on him.

Having said that, I think I'm going out tomorrow night. Sober. So if I have to witness too many PDAs (makes a difference to being involved in them) I may well be depressed before the day is through.

I'd say it's probably best I'm not drinking - alcohol induced depression combined with hearts and flowers and sickly couples does one desperate girl make - but my past record shows I can be just as bad alcohol-free. Not that I make a habit of it. Being alcohol-free that is.

So... I'm not feeling like a valentine's reject, nothing particularly bad happened considering it's Friday the 13th, I got asked for ID when buying a scratchcard, and then won £7. My day could have been worse.

Start my postgraduate diploma (finally) on Monday. That's when I get my books and my life officially ends. Ok, maybe thats me being a bit melodramatic.

Got an email with my first assignment on it today. Oh I only have to do a production plan as if I'm an editor of a weekly newsletter, complete with how I manage my team of staff, finance etc. Then I have to produce the newsletter.

Sticking to the plan.

Except in my plan I have to have a team of dedicated staff working on pulling together this publication, and have to give them tasks and say how I will manage them. In real life, there's just me. So not quite sure how they can mark me for sticking to the plan when I very clearly can't, as it's an individual assignment.

I guess the idea is I have to assume multiple identities as if I were the various members of my 'team', to carry out the tasks set out in my plan.

It's not quite what I expected. My first degree was all theory and nice straight forward essay questions. So I wasn't naive enough to think this would be exactly like that, but reality is now setting in - before I've even started - that this is, in fact, going to be bloody hard.

My head hurts.

So, spent Saturday night with the Toy Boy.

My mate’s boyfriend invited us all over, and the four of us had a few drinks. And then a few more. He lives out in the middle of nowhere, so we all stayed the night. The Toy Boy was going to sleep on the floor in the room I was in, but didn’t need any persuasion when I offered him half the single bed.
But nothing happened. Not a thing.

I spent most of the night with my arm over his chest or my head on his shoulder or some kind of contact, if only because it’s hard not to in a single bed! But he didn’t return this kind of contact in any way. It was almost as if he was too careful not to put his arm round me, even though we were squished up in bed together.

He’s either totally uninterested in me in that way, or incredibly shy. He knows that I like him, or he knows that I did, so if he was totally uninterested then he was taking a bit of a chance sharing a bed with me. Not that I was going to pounce on the poor bloke or anything, but it would have all been very awkward if I’d tried it on. Luckily, I hadn’t had quite enough to drink to do anything that stupid.

I think it’s just not happening. We were getting on really well. But as mates. Just as mates.

...up and dressed way before noon on a Saturday.
In my gym clothes, no less.
That's half the battle.
Now I just need to actually make it to the gym.
I'm not procrastinating what so ever.

Went to Lancaster with some friends last Friday night to stay with another friend. It was pretty quiet and we only went a couple of places but it was a really good night out, just sitting around catching up and drinking cocktails. Nice hassle free night out.

Made up for the lack of dancing by going out back home on the Saturday night. So much for trying to save! Did a bit of drunk facebooking from my phone when I got in, can’t remember why I thought that was in any way a good idea! Went back to my mate’s with tikka wraps. Yum! My favourite post-night-out-take-away.

Was quite a funny weekend all in all. At least this weekend, despite my state, I didn’t text Toy Boy. No sightings of any unwanted, though the Ex’s mate was out, so I was on edge for a while, in case he was out to. Luckily not, or not that I seen anyway.

Back to the flat and woke up on Monday to be greeted by the sight of snow. Snow!!! Everywhere!!! Though pretty much everywhere has had snow so it’s not that exciting. Still had to go to work, couldn’t even take a snow day, despite nearly killing myself to get there.

My week has been pretty hectic. Work is ridiculously busy at the moment, with no sign of letting up. If anything, it’s been getting steadily worse for the past 12 months or so, just too much to do! Wednesday saw the peak of my stress, after I couldn’t fit into one pair of work trousers (I’m getting so fat!) and managed to burn a hole in another pair, not only ruining them, but destroying the iron too.

Still, now it’s the weekend, I don’t have to think about work until Monday.

Was going to go to the gym after work, packed my gym bag this morning and promptly forgot it. When I came back after work to get it I decided catching up on my blog was far more appealing (scrubbing the bathroom would be far more appealing with the current aversion I seem to have to exercising).

Ah well, there’s always tomorrow.