Procrastination and inertia a la Divinyl...aka more random bollocks!

I type this blog with vampish red nails (of varying lengths!). This is the first time I've had red nails in...well, ever, I think! They have been black/green/blue/you name it in my younger days (as has my hair...pretty much every colour save for black on that one...although it has been as dark brown as you can get. It's kind of forgotten what colour it is supposed to be underneath nowadays! Red was quite a favourite for a while...bright, pillarbox red. And that never seems to go away completely!), but never really anything as trad as red (we're back on the nails, the parentheses were just particularly long!).

It is my pal's wedding on Saturday, and my outfit is red. Not like scarlet woman red...not made of satin, or boned, or anything like that! I believe it to be appropriate for this pal's wedding. I have already painted my nails because I simply couldn't wait...I got too excited about trying it out after buying the nail varnish...such a kid! My toenails are also red...and I seriously don't remember the last time I painted them! Yes, I am femme as far as lezzies go...but not that uber-high maintenance femme! I'm having a drama about my toes actually...well, one specific toe anyway.

Nope, I don't have some deformed Elephant Man growth or club foot; nor six toes like Anne Boleyn (who I always thought was called Amber Lynne when I was a child)...my feet are quite normal thank you, except, that is, for their humongous size...UK size 8 (European 41)...gargantuan! Especially at the age of about 11, when I still had to try and find brown school shoes...you can imagine, I'm sure. Anyhoo, the toe...

Yup, I busted the little toe on my right foot. Tripped on the stairs. And nearly ripped it off! Seriously...my pals who are doctors even thought it was all icky and gross. It's basically torn away from the toe next to it...a big fissure between the two. Aargh! I can still wiggle it, so don't think it's broken...but don't know what I'm going to do about the fact that I'd planned to wear red kitten-heeled flip-flop-stylee shoes on Saturday. I don't know if I'll be able to walk in them without doing it even more damage in the healing process! Thankfully, however, it is no longer black. I thought I was doing a Michael Jackson-type thing, only backwards (the Moonwalk?)! Snigger.

Ok, I'm sorry, this is dull...so, the last word on the nail polish...it is slightly sparkly...a bit Dorothy-esque...although in a relatively understated (as understated as red nail polish can be!) kind of way...not full-on, in your face glitz...not like a drag queen's lipstick sparkly red. Enough of this already...

So...I have been watching quite a lot of fil-ums lately. These have included: Annie Hall, The Bourne Identity and Supremacy, The Forgotten (which I thought I'd think was shit, but then I started thinking I might enjoy it. Turns out my first instincts were spot on. But Julianne Moore...grrr), Near Dark (a complete waste of two hours of my life...utter pants!) , a couple of John Waters films (I'm purposefully avoiding the new Hairspray...why does it even exist?) and Monster House. This last one had a trailer for a film called Stranger Than Fiction (a rather odd one to have on a children's dvd methinks)...which stars Queen Latifah, Emma Thompson and Maggie Gyllenhaal. Sounds great! Except that Queen Latifah, no matter how hot she is, always seems to be in crap films. And it also stars Will Ferrell...guh! Seriously, I can't be doing with these 'funnymen'...you know, the ones who make a living out of gurning senselessly and 'oof, something just hit me in the balls' gags...I avoid Jim Carrey, Eddie Murphy, Adam Sandler, Chris Rock, Robin Williams (with the odd 'serious role' exception) etc. at all cost.

But female players-wise, we seem to be onto a good'un...throw in Ana Matronic and you've got me a party! Ok, and Rachel Griffiths, French, and indeed Saunders, Kirstie Allsopp (a bit of posh!), a sprinkling of Drew Barrymore (who I've fancied since I was about 10!), Josie Lawrence, Clea Duvall, Ruth Jones...can't think of any more right now...and I'm ready to roll! What do all these women have in common? Very little I should think. But they are often quirky, few are classically 'beautiful', none are too skinny (for famous people, anyway), and many have good noses. Generally dark-haired, amusing, roundish ladies are good...with a few exceptions.

Shall we move on? How about to the usual TV round-up? I'll very swiftly cover the Big Brother house...I positively can't abide Carole...and don't get me started on Ziggy (with his piggy little eyes and his smarm...not a man to be trusted). Please don't let either of them win. Generally pretty dull in there though. I am, however, throughly enjoying Heroes thus far. I am particularly pleased it has Ali Larter in it!

I saw a great show the other day, on TMF I think. It was a show from MTV called 'Little Talent Show'...an X-Factor/Pop Idol-style programme, in which three judges had to identify a “triple threat” (i.e. someone who can act, dance and sing). By golly, these judges are dim (one said “Are we in agreeance?”!) and seventeenth rate. And there's a severe over-abundance of use of the phrase "Bring it!"...which doesn't even mean anything! And the talent? There is indeed little of it. Hmmm. It's completely purposefully demeaning to these folk...who are doing all this for the grand prize of...wait for it...$500! Seriously, really not worth it...but quite amusing to watch in a slow moment.

As for adverts...today my comment shall be upon Venus Vibrance. (I just got an e-mail from 'metatatically Tidwell'! I hate these auto-spam-porn things that I constantly get sent, but I daren't open them to try and stop it, in case they are virus-y things...I know little about computers!). Anyway, the razor...

The advert tells us that “Inside every woman is power”. And the message here is?? That you can unleash it and be powerful...so long as you have smooth underarms? And what's with the whole vibrating razor thing? How does that help? Surely it can only be intended for one specific use? Just make sure you don't get the wrong end...maah!

My last musing/query for today is about the term 'the dog's bollocks'. Why is that a good thing? I mean, I'm sure dogs like them, but surely dogs' bollocks are something that humans invariably get rid of? Imagine if the shoe was on the other foot! Dogs' bollocks are not, I shouldn't imagine, very attractive...human ones certainly leave a lot to be desired! I really just don't get it. Anybody got an explanation? I so can't be arsed Googling trying to find out!

I'll leave you, for now, with a quotation...from Kath and Kim...a generally amusing show, but this time it actually made me laugh out loud (and I was sitting on my lonesome)...

“I'm gonna cook your favourite dinner tonight – rack off lamb”...superb!

Right...I'm off on my jaunts! Southampton, then Manchester, then back down to Kent...pray my little car gets me to all of these places and back! It's just had a full service and MOT (£250-something...even though it only needed my brake fluid changing and the headlamps realigning...or summat...rip-off merchants!), yet it's still chugging and making funny noises...cripes!

Last thing...honest. I could have had a tenner for free the other day. No, really. The guy in front of me at the cash point walked off without taking his money (how dumb is that?!). I, like the Catholic-ally (even though I'm not) honest good citizen I am, raced after him to consociate it with its rightful owner. Did I get a 'thank you'? Did I heck as like...all I got was a “Jesus, I'd lose my head...”. Zip. Should've pocketed it!

Current Music: Old Crow Medicine Show - O.C.M.S./Sam Baker - Pretty World

A 'gayer' writes...

I have just found out about openoffice.org...wow! I have done without having Microsoft Word on my computer for so long...I didn't know it could be so easy! This is exactly the same...and free (and where I typed this blog)!

So...onto what I am really here to write about. And that is marriage.

I am sick of it.

One of my good friends is getting married in two weeks time (the hen 'do' was this weekend, but I am too skint to go to both, so missed out, unfortunately. And I'm not sure my car's well enough to get me down to Southampton for the wedding...it's making some very funny noises...hmmm). Another, in the same group of friends, got married last August, and another texted me yesterday to say she got engaged this week.

Is it something about being 27? A load of school peeps I have recently caught up with on Facebook are getting married this year as well.

And here's me, continually flying solo...I haven't had a proper relationship in about 6 years! Is it just easier for straight people to pair off? Am I too picky? Am I too shy about meeting people? Or are they just (collectively) starting to panic? They are all a lot more worried about this whole ageing business than I seem to be. Hmmm.

Whilst I am happy for all of these friends, it just brings home to me that I am likely to end up a lonely old spinster who goes through life without companionship! Even just some mindless fucking now and then might be nice! If they have all already found the one, how come it's been so long since I've even found a one??

Ok, so, admittedly lesbians are a hard bunch to fancy...my choices are much more limited than a straight person's I guess...and the pool I have to choose from generally doesn't seem worth bothering with!

But I am beginning to wonder if it is just me, when everyone else is finding somebody significant! Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I just don't come into contact with many gay women. If it was men I was after, well I'm in contact with straight men every day, so there would be more opportunities...it's just that I really don't fancy having to settle for a willy in my life!

And so, as time moves on, I am becoming the only one who doesn't have a 'plus one' on their invitation, the only one who turns up alone and is the singleton in the group. The old maid of an auntie in the corner! And that's not much fun...ok, it's alright for now, at this age, and with friends I'm comfortable with and have known a long time, but it's going to wear thin eventually, eh?

I don't single myself out for being gay...it's just one facet of who I am. Who I sleep with (or not, as the case seems to be!) has little bearing on other things. But it is singling (ha ha) me out without me wanting it to!

Even if I was straight, I am not one to tow the line...I don't personally believe in marriage...and don't get me started on civil ceremonies...baloney!

Ok, rant over for now I guess. One last thing (and, as per my usual form, completely unrelated)...why, in the supermarket, can you not buy caramelised cashew nuts? Why do they have to come hand-in-hand with peanuts? I'm not a fan of peanuts, and it seems silly to buy a packet only to eat the cashews and then throw the rest away. Even they have paired up on me!
Hang on...perhaps this is linked. Perhaps the Miss Right out there is the one who wants the peanuts and not the cashews??

I learnt a new word...

Sesquipedalian.

Look it up...does exactly what it says on the tin!

And all due to my new found addiction (yes, you may have gathered that they are frequent, but short-lived! Tee hee) to riddle games.

Check out http://www.lautman.net/riddlesofriddles/ for some fab ones. and you could also try http://udiy.org/web%20riddle/.

This is of course, should you have the time, the patience, and very little else to do!

The waxing and waning...

At the moment, I am feeling that my life is definitely in a waning period. Whilst it was waxing, albeit sluggishly, enough for me to get back to work and try to be a useful citizen (and ensure I still had some money coming in to pay the mortgage!), things now don't seem to be going to any sort of plan. Or certainly not any plan of my knowledge or formulation…and as I don't believe in divine beings and so forth…

I am managing to get to work each day, this much is true [Edit: Since I first wrote the start of this, I've now been off work for a week...I managed one further day!]. And it doesn't even feel as 'skin of the teeth' as it did there for a while. But, unfortunately, with success (if you could call it that; simply the ability to hold down a 9-5) comes obstinacy from every other area of my life…it has created such difficulties with everything else. Kick-back I guess.

My house is now back to being what the intellectual might term 'minging', I am finding myself increasingly alone and, when any interaction with others is called for, this seems to be fraught with tensions. Perhaps it is time for me to just crawl back under my rock? Ok, so it offers few solutions, but at least it has a familiar scent.

("I now believe that depression is not a 'psychiatric illness'. Depression is a coping mechanism, a withdrawal within oneself when reaching out to others has become too painful, too risky. Depression is an unhappy place to be, but for the person who suffers with it, depression is the lesser of two evils." - Terry Lynch)

This once would not have been enough. Now even the basics are too much. It used to be that I (at least felt I) could valiantly take on anything that was thrown at me (sometimes literally!), and even lick the edges of the bowl. As I have travelled through the corridors of time, I seem to have misplaced one of the ingredients!

The help I have been screaming for, aloud for some six years now, silently for much longer, has been a devil…it hasn't even bothered with the disguise. Not exactly forthcoming, there was, latterly, at least some perceived light at the end of the tunnel. And even though this light was an intrusion, it was apprehensively welcomed as what can only be, long-term, a good thing, something which will, finally, allow me to flower.

I have waited a year, patiently, as instructed. I have had many difficulties, yet have remained polite. Then I was told that the year was going to slip to two, next to two and a half…somebody out there is desperate to keep me on the bottom of the pile…and I'm not even talking metaphorically. Finally, a knight (or knightress?) in shining armour, sword snicker-snacking through the undergrowth, showing me the path…and yet I find myself still waiting.

My head is just about above water, but I really don't have to squint much to make out the obstacles, snares and nasties in the murky depths below. I wave solemnly as I see various aspects of the life I want to live float past, just out of reach. I am treading water, unable to swim against the current…and I know my legs won't hold out forever.

The darkness closes in, reliably as night follows day, follows night, follows day, around me…and I find that I am still alone. The air is heavy, not enough to breathe freely, and as I gasp and splutter I wonder, sometimes, if things would just be simpler if I let myself go with the current…let it take me where it wants, let the water have my lungs.

But I am too proud…and such a good swimmer!

And the make-up is applied so meticulously, in such a practiced way, that the cracks don't even show any more. But if people can't see for themselves the dark recesses, the shadows that follow me around, or hear the creaking of the walls closing in around me, all my strength in trying to hold them up, then how do they know to help? My voice barks loudly, the meaning of what I say ignored, trampled, misunderstood.

This idea of walls is something that, in my little brain, I often return to...the best analogy that I can find is that it often feels like I'm sitting on a cold stone floor of a bare room, in which the walls are painted black. There is a rope attached to each wall, and I've got to keep my grip on all of them, or the walls will fall in around me. But I'm struggling to hold onto all of them, and even if I just let one go...kablam! I feel them slipping. Or, you know in films, like Indiana Jones, where the walls are gradually inching closer, threatening to squash you? Well, I don't have the strength to hold them back and keep them at bay.

If I could just grab the string of a passing balloon, the shiny, swollen hope it offers carrying me off to new worlds beyond the horizon; new worlds where troubles drift away and I can learn to be someone new. But even balloons are so flimsy, so vulnerable and unpredictable…

Eventually, I will sink, limp, down…coming to rest in some undiscovered underwater cave…dark and fearsome. And I will drown or grow gills before they find me! My limbs with atrophy, and what they find will not be identifiable as human…if indeed it even started out that way.

I ebb with the tide…and ebb..and ebb…

Your words, your ways…they have changed me. I have strength in that I am still here. But it is strength enough only for survival…not for life, not for union, not for joy. I was not built to be Atlas and my shoulders cannot withstand the pressure bearing down upon me.

It was supposed to be that I would be free without you…set out until the barren moorland became a blossoming meadow. But I didn't get enough light, and it stifled my growth. I don't know how to cope with the world that is not you…that is all I have learnt. The weeds have been plucked, but the roots remain, undisturbed, festering. And it grows apace, underground, undetected.

And so, surreptitiously, your punishment continues…