Sometimes London breaks my heart

Walking down Oxford St tonight I saw something that very nearly reduced me to tears in the street.

Tucked away in a doorway was a homeless lady. Now, I know there are many many homeless people around the city, but there aren’t many like this lady; in her 80s.

She was really tucked away and most people will have simply not seen her, but for whatever reason, I did and it broke my heart. How can someone like this be on the streets? Do we really live in a society that dumps their grandparents on the streets?

I wandered on and went into Mc Donald’s and bought a cup of tea and an apple pie and took it back to her. As I handed it to her something became apparent; she had no idea what I was talking about. I don’t know if she was foreign or if she was suffering from dementia, but either way she didn’t understand me.

While giving a hot drink and food to a homeless octogenarian, people were walking passed me carrying bags. Bags full of pointless presents for people who don’t need anything.

If this has upset you too I ask you to do something for me, please give to Shelter. I live on benefits and still consider myself much better off than many people. Please give just a few pounds a month.

Defining definitions

One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Love is blind.

We have many expressions that illustrate how we can all see the same things so differently and today has reminded me of something that bothers me.

A video is doing the rounds of a guy at Eurogamer interviewing various people and it has caused a stir due to his sexual language and actions when talking to women. I’m not here to moan about this though, I’m more interested in the reactions of different people.

So many people don’t seem to understand how what happened is sexual harassment. Many seem to think that because it was seen as a joke it’s ok or because the women nervously laughed and didn’t breakdown or run screaming for the police it’s ok. But it isn’t.

If this isn’t sexual harassment to them, what is? What do these people see as okay, and why?

Everybody has a different set of norms and values, these come to us as we grow up and learn about the world. The problem I have though is the lack of empathy many people seem to show. For example, I’m not Jewish, I’ve never had any Jewish friends or relatives. However, I do know that jokes about the Holocaust aren’t funny. I can understand how it would be offensive to people, how hurtful it would be. Why do so many seem to lack this ability?

I’m rambling a little due to it being 4am, but this issue really does trouble me. Just what is it that alters judgement like this so much?

Answers on a postcard! :p

Oh yeah, I have a blog

I keep forgetting about this, I should use it more.

I do like the idea of a blog but I wish I could just type it out in my mind when things come to me. Saying this though I think I actually have the app on my phone and iPad so I’m not sure what my excuse is. Stupidity, I’ll go with that :p

So, a few months on now and I’m pleased to say that the move went well. I’m loving living in London, it’s possibly the best thing I’ve ever done tbh. I can’t ever see me moving back though, I’m already used to the convenience and variety of living here.

Another thing I’ve noticed is that I’m not in as much pain here either. Now this isn’t to say that I’m cartwheeling down the street, but the harsh edge has gone. I visited back home last week and in less than a day the pain and fatigue had escalated, buggering off once more when I got back to London. Atmospheric pressure? Climate? I don’t know, all I know is it’s a great reason to stay here 😀

Boxes and Hate

If moving house teaches you anything, it’s just how much shite you own!

Ok so maybe it’s not QUITE this bad, but I do have a good fort’s worth of boxes collected in my dining room with more scattered about the house. I keep trying to assure myself that it looks like a lot more than it is because there’s a whole house worth nearly in one room. Plus, things are normally hidden away in drawers and cupboards and on shelves and all that…but yeh, I have A LOT of stuff!

I find emotional attachment to objects an odd thing too. A teddy bear is an obvious thing to not want to get rid of, but do you ever find yourself connecting memories with other random things? Just me? I have a cheesegrater that was my Nan’s and I know now that I wouldn’t be able to part with it, because it was hers. Thankfully it is also a most resplendent grater of cheese and is thus still in use.

Just got a couple of days left until I move and I can say I’m ready now. Time to move on and make a new start. This house holds happy memories, but sad ones too that need cutting loose. I moved into this house four years ago with my boyfriend and 14 months ago that relationship ended. Watching him move his stuff out was so incredibly painful but not half as cutting as some of the things he’s said since. I used to want to buy this house and make it mine I was so happy here, but now I want, and need, to move.

I hope the move goes well, can’t wait to just be in and settled! Not got long though now, my train ticket has even been booked. First Class, natch! 🙂

Dates, Drugs and Blood

So, I had a date on Friday night, to say it went badly is an understatement.

So…we met up and it was all going fine. We had some cocktails in a really cool bar and then decided to move on to another. We got our drinks at the bar and sat down at a table…and here my memory stops completely. I think someone deposited something in my beverage at some point. Thanks mate.

I have no memory at all from here until I was on the escalator at Holborn station, on my own, and bleeding from my head. Yes, I fell down an escalator! I didn’t know where I was, why I was on my own or what had happened. Quite scary tbh. I was carted off to hospital in an ambulance, but I have no idea which hospital I was taken to. I waited in A&E to be seen but after being there ages and starting to get fed up of a French guy trying to feel my boobs, I left.

….and went to McDonalds for nuggets! Food bought, a meal for myself and a meal for a trampy looking guy who was trying to copper up for a brew, I checked out the local map. I was only about two tube stops from my hotel so I walked back as it wasn’t far. I know it can’t have been very far either as my food wasn’t cold when I finally ate it in my hotel room.

So what happened in the missing time? I’ve asked my date what happened and apparently we were both waiting for the tube (to where, from where I have no idea) and all of sudden I looked at him funny, smacked him in the face with my stick and buggered off. Why did I do this? Anyone who knows me, knows this isn’t like me at all. Did something else happen I don’t know about? I have no idea, and I never will but I feel really really bad that I hurt someone I actually liked.

So, as first dates go it was…errr….eventful!

I did view a flat on Saturday though and we are going to take it, so at least something went right!

*photo update*

The Importance of Nothing

When was the last time you did nothing? And I really mean nothing, on purpose. I did the other day and you know what? It felt good.

The weather outside was quite nice and the cats had gone out to hunt, fight and poop. (well, Eddie did, Lucy got outsmarted by a bluebottle and came in) I was pouring myself a drink and I thought I’m not going to go straight upstairs, I’m going to sit outside. And that’s what I did. No phone. No ipad. Just me.

It was really relaxing and made me wonder when was the last time I had actually, purposefully, done nothing. These days I’m always plugged into technology be it my phone, ipad, pc or xbox and this means I’m constantly thinking and in contact with people. It felt good to just cut off and chill out for a bit.

So, why can’t you do this? If the weather is crappy then go have a bath and just lie there for a little while, or rest on the sofa. No music, no tv, not even a book. Just stillness and nothing, disconnected from the hive mind. Give it a go, you’ll thank me!

Remembrance of the blog and the joys of househunting

During a recent discussion about cake I found myself heading over to this site to link to the photo of my portal cake and I made a discovery; I have a blog! So, here I am blowing the dust off my blog and seeing if I can get my stupid brain to remember about its existence for longer than a week. We shall see.

So, househunting, gawd that’s fun isn’t it!? No, no it most certainly is not! It isn’t an activity rated as supercoolmegafun at the best of times, but for me it has added…’bonuses’ ¬_¬

First of all trying to move house to somewhere you don’t already live is not the easiest of things. Now yes I know that people move to the other side of the world yarda yarda, but still house hunting over the internet and viewing in allotted weekends is hard! I should have been in London this weekend but plague has befallen me (and I only had one viewing anyway.) So I shall get upon the ol’ virgin train yet again and panic my way around the boroughs of Londonia next weekend.

But will I find anything? For anyone who doesn’t know I am disabled. Now this doesn’t mean that I’m dictating this to someone via blinks or anything that extreme, but it does affect my ability to work. I have a muscle thingi (still no diagnosis 9 years on) and so I spend a lot of time at home, very often in bed, but worry not I do find time to get very drunk and have a good time too. Apart from prostitution, there are very few careers out there for a bedlurker like myself. I am DSS. BOM BOM BOMMMMMMMMMMMMM!

For many landlords DSS means some crazed smackhead who will destroy all property and start a drugs business from the garden shed, so most say no to housing benefit. This is not only unfair, but incredibly difficult to take at times. I have been spoken to by some estate agents like something that has fallen off their shoe when I have mentioned housing benefit. I can understand the ‘risks’ that could be associated with a person on benefits, but with disability benefits it’s a bit different. Unless I get dramatically worse or better, things stay the same, and at the moment that’s more security than many people with jobs can say they have. I am pleased to say thought that some places have been very nice with me and happy to take my money off me when I explain about my circumstances and that I would top it up with my own cash and I will be living with a full-time working housemate.

The battle rages on though! I WILL find somewhere, and I WILL move. I’m stubborn like that! 🙂

Drugs, cats and dragons (disclaimer: excitement may vary)

So…turns out that my miserable git mood was all down to my migraine medication! I’m rather pleased about this, I didn’t enjoy being a moaning sod. I dare other people didn’t either. Since I’ve stopped taking them my mood has been soooo much better and I’ve actually been able to think clearly! Yes, the fact I couldn’t focus on anything at all, was also down to the glorious migraine tablets. It should also be noted that I was getting more migraines than ever before while on them AND I was told on Friday by a doctor that I shouldn’t have been on them anyway as I have Raynaud’s syndrome! So yeh, screw you propranolol!

So yeah, I’m all bouncy again now. My situation hasn’t changed at all and of course I’m rather bummed out about all the negative crap, but I’m not dragged down by it all…..or crying for hours! Seriously, those tablets should be banned, or at least only sold to women that read mills and boon novels and cry at corrie etc anyway.

In other news, my cat is fat. Now, to anyone who has seen Lucy this isn’t ground-breaking news, however it is now a problem. She has been getting what I can best describe as dreadlocks in her fur and it turns out she isn’t becoming a Rastacat, but she is too fat to reach that area of her back to clean it! *sigh* Her problem isn’t so much food, although she does LOVE food, it’s more her reluctance to ‘do stuff’. My cat is basically Garfield. She isn’t a fan of the outdoors and so doesn’t get any exercise there, and if you roll a ball passed her she just looks at it, confused. BUT she will play with the laser pen. A new laser pen has bought, due to the other vanishing to that magical place small object vanish to, and the running about has begun! She loves it so much! It’s on a keychain and all I have to do is shake it and she comes running! Adorable ball fur that she is!

SKYRIM! My Mum bought it for me on Friday! She nipped back into GAME, where I’d been looking at it earlier on, when I was trying some clothes on in a shop and bought it for me. I did jump up and down like a child and got some odd looks from people in the shopping center, but I don’t care! I’m cool and my Mum is ace! She also got me a Hello Kitty chocolate advent calendar today, yey! \o/

Anyway, I should really be writing an essay write now, but felt I should report about my better frame of mind and all that sort of thing. PMA and all that!

x

I knew it would end like this, but why does it?

Whenever I write a blog it always ends up being a big load of moaning. I wish to apologise for this, it annoys me to hell, so it must annoy other people! It’s like a really long facebook status, egh!

But why do so many of us have this need to moan to the world in this way? Can we see blogging like this as 21st century therapy sessions? Most problems seem less when you have actually voiced them, so is blogging just a digital form of talking out loud?

I’m never quite sure if I get anything from it really. I think I do in a way, it’s sometimes cathartic to just write everything down and ‘get it off your chest’ so to speak, but it is still monitored and restricted. Unlike going to see a therapist, who is sworn to never tell anyone anything and doesn’t know you either, the people who read this will almost certainly know me, digitally or in the flesh. I would love to be able to write all the things that are in my head, but that isn’t possible. I guess I shall keep using my friends and pussycat therapists for that sort of thing, though I’m sure they are so fed up of hearing about it all. I know I am.

It’s weird isn’t it, liking someone. I mean you can’t say why you do, you just do. Sometimes you could have known the person for years and then all of a sudden, ping, like a switch being thrown, you start to look at them differently. Or it could just as easily be someone you have just met. Either way, it’s ok, you can’t help feeling the way you do, but it does hurt to know they just don’t see you as you would like them to. They can’t help not feeling for you that way either though, but still, it’s rubbish.

I could moan about things but I should really be doing website stuff, so many things playing on my mind though at the moment, my concentration is shot to hell. I wish life came with a remote control, so you could fast forward through the dull or painful sections.

Ah well…. 🙂
x

Social Integration, the Joy of Trains, University Numbness and Self-related Blathering

Had another London weekend, it went well. I can feel myself slowly becoming one with the place, there are hints to this.

First of all I can use/autopilot around the night buses while totally drunk. I think I did well here. I had used the night buses the night before too, this time sober, and I’m so pleased they lived up to everything I had heard.
I had a chat with a Spanish lady with an eye patch, got some help from a middle aged lady with pink hair and pondered what could be in the box labelled ‘Do Not Touch’ that a weird guy was carrying. It was like being back home, however up here this happens at all times!

I assisted a man and his daughter confused and lost on the underground too, I’m so nice. I do have to say though London Bridge station still confuses the shit out of me! Just how many exits does it have!? It’s like Howl’s Moving Station! I think it will always remain a rabbit warren of confusion to me no matter how much I go!

Coming home on the train was fun though, I got to sit on the floor all the way back from London, woot! ¬_¬ The thing that annoys me the most is the stupidly over the top number of First Class carriages that Virgin seem to think necessary for every train. They really aren’t, and are very rarely half filled with people. Ragh.

I should really be writing a lab report right now you know, but I’m not….why? I have no idea. I used to be really good at writing my uni work, I even used to get panic attacks over it not being finish on time. Now, I feel very little towards it, my heart has really gone out of it and I don’t know why. I want to be there and I want to do the work, but I just can’t engage with it anymore. It’s really hard to explain, as I don’t really understand it myself. Uni does have a bit of a groundhog day feeling about it for me though. I’ve been at uni on and off since 2003 and I’m currently doing first year classes. I just feel I’m treading water with my life, like no matter what I do it will go wrong again and I will have to start again….again. Which I know is a daft self-fulling prophesy type way of looking at things, but this is the best thoughts on the issue I have atm.

I’m still displeased with myself atm too. I feel so horribly unattractive, dull and generally undesirable and unwanted. I’m so unhappy with myself and much of my life and I don’t know what to do to change this. But I do want to. A friend has suggested making a few small changes, rather than anything drastic and I think this could be something to think about. But where do you start when you hate it all?