Wednesday, December 17, 2014
While discussing a friend who hadn't been in touch for a while, who had stopped speaking to me soon after my mother's death and had been posting unionist images on Facebook during the referendum while I was trying to put the ideals of independence across yet blanking my worried texts, I took on advice to close the book with an email. Lord, it's like the letter writing of old only this time there is proof of what was written and when and to whom.
So I sent the email, apologising for any offence I had caused unknowingly. Then today a reply, and not a nice one. This from a woman I had been colleagues and then friends with for the past five years, a woman in her early 50s, we had both supported each other through illnesses so the abrupt halt had worried me. Although I had hoped she was okay I was also hurt that she dropped me so soon after mother died. Without actually answering what I had done so wrong to reap such a response the email was nasty to the point I am now glad not to have to contact her again.
Bizarre behaviour but perhaps I look too deeply in to why people do what they do - curiosity outweighing the fact I can be a sticky-beak in things not of my concern. It's enough to drive a psychotherapist to distraction.
That is the end of that. Now all we need is some hair pulling and playground cat calls with friends taking sides and it would be back to high school. Some things never change.
I am 42 for only a day more and to be honest, not only do I not have the answers to life, I have more questions.
Tuesday, December 02, 2014
At these times I remember the warmth, the oven dry heat, azure skies and Vitamin D drenching sun. I wonder where my future lies, what is ahead, I can either focus on the darkness past or sunshine future and yes, it really is that way.
Saturday, November 29, 2014
As I had thought I'd posted some memories of our latest holiday in warm and wonderful Lanzarote, made harder by the fact I did not want to come home at all, there is always that to look forward to doing at some point. However of late my concern has been lack of time.
I sometimes feel that one of the major symptoms of ME is how much time it steals. While I slow down the world continues apace and I cannot run to catch up because...well...I cannot run.
I need to develop some way of making a living from freelancing, enough for us to live off of with maybe some left over to enjoy a couple of holidays a year. My savings are almost gone, yet finding the courage not to have a panic attack at the thought of someone not paying up or things going disastrously wrong is almost overwhelming and naturally there is no help out there to guide me through it, to give me my old tenacity back.
One thing I would love to do, but lack the talent and time to progress very far, is to be an artist. I'm filled with envy and inspiration when I see others do what I wish I could. At the moment this is how well I can complete a pastel:
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Sometime when my mind drifts, and it often drifts, I imagine a world where I have limitless funds. Oh the things I could do, the places I could visit. At the moment the idea of escape is a delicious one. I have a list, I have a plan and I will have the ability one day to put it all into action - I hope!
We're off on holiday in a few weeks, it is desperately needed.
|Might as well dream I have the body as well as the pool.|
Monday, September 29, 2014
To put it politely Scotland sent a huge message out to the world, 55% of our dear population bottled it and decided that being part of a broken down union was a much easier option than actually trying to do something different, to make something better.
Strangely enough though the "winners" seem to be the ones with anger while those who were involved in the Yes campaign have grieved (very briefly), regrouped and have collectively decided that damn the percentages; if you want to live in a progressive society you need to pull up your sleeves and get on with it.
In the week since the referendum, along with interesting allegations over the vote itself (claimed as conspiracy theories there is definitely something that went on) there has been an immediate back tracking over the extra powers promised by the three main UK parties; more cuts in budget; suddenly the oil isn't running out, in fact there's tons of the stuff; fracking that will happen no matter what; benefits that will harm working families are targeted and amongst everything else a nice little war to keep the flags flying.
You couldn't make this crap up.
I've gone from a news junkie to trying to find reliable sources. Once you've seen how biased a news source can be it is very difficult, no, impossible to then trust them with anything - each minute is spent wondering what is fact and what is tilted so you think how they are wanting you to. I studied the use of propaganda as part of my history degree, I didn't expect to see the same methods once used in Soviet Russia still prevalent now.
It is embarrassing to know that a majority don't care about the society they live in. I have thought that we will move elsewhere if given the opportunity but I want to try, why should those who want to make everyone's lives better and make this country fairer lie down and allow the seemingly angry, bitter and ignorant others to have their way? I know it sounds belligerent, to say the very least, but you have to look at why people do what they do and no, it is unacceptable to allow those who are comfortably off, the "I'm alright Jack" crowd sit back and enjoy their lives while others suffer.
While we sit have Trident sitting on the Clyde, while the House of Lords dare to rule over us "commoners", while the oil money is wasted on stupid wars, the job is not done.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
For the first time ever voting came with a little thrill as I marked my X against the Yes box today. A strangely emotional experience knowing that tomorrow we will be independent or have to take the consequences of staying in the UK.
I'm tired, so emotionally tired that I can no longer give reasons why I'm for yes.
Tomorrow I shall sleep and hopefully it will be restful.
Thursday, August 14, 2014
The house I grew up in was 200 years old. Built by the man who owned the house next door and although meant to be a weavers cottage at one point even served as the jail. By the time my parents bought it, a few months before I came along, the windows had been enlarged enough to encourage some sparkling patterns on cold days. The windows were deep set, enough for the window sills to serve as seats.
I had a picture book about Jack Frost painting on window panes during the night, in the morning I would sit by the window and with my fingers I'd melt my own drawings in to the designs.