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 😀

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! 🙂

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…. 🙂
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