Another Long Day

Another long day. The end of another long day.

Has anyone really thought about the connotations of placing these words together? Another long day. The day is so long, it stretches ahead of us so far we cannot see the end. Yet the placement of 'another' tells us that there have been many days as this before, and will be many to come. It is so long yet it is not isolated, and the end always seems to come so fast. So how long is it really? If we experience so many we have to emphasise 'another' what is it that we are really distinguishing?  'The end' suggests a form of hope, that this day, this long long day, has ended. But another. It is only another. The end does not refer to the end of long days, it refers to a pause, where we can consider the length of the day but know that it is only another, amongst a seemingly endless run.

There is a chance when it is no longer endless therein lies the tragedy of the phrase 'another long day.' But then again, perhaps not.

Rihanna's baby

I was climbing across a wall. It was very high up. I knew if I took a step wrong I would die. I stepped on a stone and it fell, I scrambled to keep hold of the wall. I told myself that I knew that stone would fall.

I gripped onto something hard, covered in soft red material. A little later I realised it was a finger of one of the people who had died on this wall. They had all been buried in it.

A girl was giving birth. I think she was dead. The fetus was only two months old. It came out and I caught it. It was tiny, it fit in the palm of my hand and it was translucent. Someone was trying to call the emergency services but they were being kept on hold. I kept thinking it was dead but now and then it would move. I knew I had to keep it alive until Rihanna came home.

Zzzzzz

Two people, a man and a woman, were trying to get through a swamp. I was watching them, as if it were a film. They fell to the bottom of the swamp and I remarked on how clear the water was and how unrealistic it was. Someone or something told me that is how it actually is in real life.

There were dogs tied up in the swamp. I expressed concern for them but was told by someone or something that they knew where to tread.

The people were still trying to get across. There was a shot of their feet as they took another step but small rocks fell from under their feet and they fell.

There's nothing more boring than someone else's dream....

I was going for counselling. There was a huge and busy waiting room and my boyfriend was there. I went to sit next to him. It was 10:45. Don't know if am or pm. His appointment wasn't until 12. He didn't know if he could get transport home then. I said he could come back to mine.

I went to tell the reception I was there. I didn't know who I was supposed to be seeing but I thought it would be the woman I'd seen before: Kaye something. That didn't ring a bell with the receptionist. He said the person I would be sent to was 18/19 and had just been employed by the agency straight out of school. I described the woman I had seen before, then she walked past and I said 'her!' It was actually Marina de Van. She was leaving and her name was nothing like Kaye. I thought that it would be a pain to have to tell someone new everything about myself again. Then I thought maybe it would be a good thing, new perspective.

I went to sit back next to my boyfriend who I noticed was wearing a baggy grey top. I told him I liked it. I didn't know what time my appointment was even though it said 11 on my card. So I rolled a cigarette and said as soon as I roll a cigarette I would be called in. I was.

I had to ask the receptionist which room I was in as I walked past. I was told room no. 3. I walked into the corridor and it was too dark to see the numbers on the doors. I knocked on one and was told to come in.

The counsellor was Jen, a friend of my sister's who recently got married. The room was the size of a large bedroom, and had a double bed in it. It also had a television and a huge bookshelf filled with books. She asked me to choose a chair. There were lots. The ones without anything on them were the kind of leathery swivel chairs you get in offices but something in the dream told me these were typical psychotherapy chairs. So I removed some laundry and shopping off a hard wooden chair and sat on that. 

The counsellor was smoking. I said I didn't realise I could smoke in there and could I please go back to the waiting room to get my cigarette. I did and whilst I was there I noticed that my boyfriend had eaten 3/4 of a chocolate ganache tart that at some point I had bought myself. I told him 'you cheeky bastard' and he looked really upset.

I was back in the counsellors and she asked me if I wanted any weed. I think the word she used was dweebs but I knew what she meant. I said 'really?' not really wanting to. She said yes, but often patients didn't like it so maybe it was a bad idea. I asked her about the room, she said she lived there. I asked isn't it horrible living in a room that so many sad people tell you horrible things in. She said she had to stay connected with the school. She laughed and looked round and said, all I do is read.

She put the telly on. I got annoyed and asked her to turn it off because I would just get caught up in it and wouldn't say anything for the whole session. She turned it off and sat on the bed. I asked her if that was a counselling trick, meant to catch me off guard or something. She admitted it was something her mother always did.

Blank.

Dorothy got it right in the end

5 large white cookies for £1...for my tea. Belongs in my tummy.

 

 

 

My Phantasm boxset, bought for me by my boyfriend when I got accepted to do a PhD. Lives on my chest of drawers.

My little skiing snowman Christmas Tree decoration. Bought for me by my sister, an expert in all things cute. Lives on my chest of drawers.

A photo that lives on my shelf of me and my family in France. We're channeling spirits here.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer figurines (not dolls!) that live on my shelf in spite of the desperate need for space for books and DVDs. Some things are more important. Given to me and bought for me by a friend and my brother.

Limited edition (yeah right) complete Friends boxset. Bought for me by me. Lives on my desk.

A selection of good, crappy, cheap, and disgusting DVDs. Bought for me by me. They have a nomad existence but still very much belong.

A figurine of a robotic bear making sweet love to a car. Bought for me by a friend. Lives on my stack of moisturisers.

The object and the concept. Bought for me by my sister. Made for me by many. Lives mostly on my desk/windowsill/computer.

99p cocoa butter. Bought frequently by me. Makes you smell divine. Lives under my robotic love-making bear.

A photo album. Compiled for me by a friend. Lives on my desk. Some of the photos follow.

Little tykes.

Young Rosie. Beautiful doggie.

Prom.

My Marilyn Monroe jewellry box. Bought for me by two friends. Holds many beautiful things bought for me by many and me. Lives on my desk.

The joke gift. Bought for me by friends. Lives in my desk tidy.

A roof over one's head to allow frequent lounging. Done by me for me.

Liquorice all-sorts

This is the first night in a long time I have really really wanted to swim in a river, and come so close to swimming. I paddled in the shallow end but that only left me feeling worse and more worthless. So then I began planning on how I can invest in swimming in the river before I realised what I was doing.

Floating on a block of ice doesn't work by the way. Trisha is a huge advocate but it's a load of bollocks.

This is all very self-centred, regarding what is going on outside. But then this blog has always been a diary, never a social commentary. 

I wonder if I should invest in a little poison ivy to get through these times. But poison ivy is illegal, and expensive. But then so is eating all the balloons in the jar. Old new behaviours that I really really don't have time for. And no-one can help me, I know this. If I have learnt anything since my first year in Newcastle locked in a room for a year with nothing but red tea and an angry panda for company the only person that can get me through anything is me. But right now I just wish I had time to knock myself out for a while. With a little swimming and poison ivy. Just a week or so. But I don't have time. It's my fault really. I get well enough to take on enough responsibilities to give me that much stress when I fall again and realise I don't have time. This is my career. And the rest of my life. And more than anything right now, I don't want it.

Tiddly Pom

Not that long ago I lost a jelly bean. Well, I suppose not completely lost, but it is not the jelly bean it once was.

Since then I have been suffering, at times, overwhelming feelings of guilt, then anger, then back to guilt, then fear, then rationality, then anger, guilt and fear all over again.

Not at all linked to the loss of this jelly bean, not that I can fathom anyways, is the random feeling of wanting to swim in a river. Today I was with some friends, and they were talking, and all I could do was listen to my own mind which was telling me how much I wanted to swim in a river.

Maybe linked to this is the stress of singing a song, a song I don't know the words to and do not know if I will finish, but currently my state of mind depends on my confidence of finishing it. And finishing it in a way that will make sense to myself and others. And not lead me to burn in hell.

So it's difficult to make sense of what I'm feeling, but right now it's all gobstoppers and parma violets.

Riots riots riots.

Today I got the phone call most working people wish for every day. 'You will still get paid, but don't come in.'

Unfortunately this is a result of fears of riots spreading to Salford and Manchester. In spite of tweets from the GMP telling us there are no riots in Manchester, nothing to back up claims of looting in Salford, and that the four burning cars in Salford being not of any connection with riots but in fact the product of a usual every day Monday (should we be relieved at that?) there are still rumours coming from people phoning and texting that something might happen. And my bosses are kind enough to fear for my safety over office outputs.

I feel bad now for my grumpy retort to my housemate's boyfriend, who told me there may be riots coming to Manchester: 'well I might not have to go into work then.' That was a result of a low mood and not of a complete lack of care and empathy for those who have been badly affected by these happenings. Promise.

So really, ironically perhaps (I'm not sure I've ever used that word correctly) when I finally get that phone call I've been dreaming of ever since I started working as a 13 year old waitress in a cafe whose patrons enjoyed barking orders at young girls and seeing how many complaints they could get in before the girls began to cry, I'm thinking to myself, I'd rather be in work.

Without a dope beat to step to.

Hmmm been a long time since been on here. Not much to say of any coherence or thread, just thought I would muse a little so I have something new to read when looking over my old posts.

Went to a wedding, got very drunk.

Went to the zoo. Didn't get drunk. There was a child and lots of animals. That would be wrong.

It is of course clear that I am no longer doing my no drinking thing and haven't for a while. My drinking is fairly under control methinks. When I do it I really go for it but those cheeky few that would give me a continual hungover state of a morning have all but gone away. Anyway....

Got some diet coke in my eye..

Watched some bad films...

Put a can of beer on my housemate's head...

Got my hopes up for a whirlwind romance....

Got excited about seeing a pub mentioned in The Likely Lads...

 And continued to perfect my alien/predator impressions...

Those earrings I have on were bought for me by my boyfriend as we waited for a metro in Tyneside. They are fimo liquirice allsorts and are now my favourite earrings in spite of being one of my least favourite sweets.

I have eaten sushi three times in the past week. And I wonder why I never have any money left.

I've also spent a good lot of money on DVDs. But I am a student of film. So it is allowed.

I have editing to do for a chapter that's supposed to be published next year. I have a chapter to write for a thesis that's supposed to be submitted next year. I have a lecture series in which I am participating to prepare for. And I'm sure there was something else. Oh yes, I have a paper to write for a conference I'm doing this September. Got invited actually. Shucks to me. Good thing I didn't forget that one. Should really write these things down. Oh yes, just did. No, I mean somewhere where I will actually think to look when I'm trying to remember what I forgot.

And that my dear reader is what I have been up to. How have you been?