I have no answers. Only questions.
a week where things have actually happened !!

I’ve had quite an interesting week, by my standards. I am sorry, but I’m not going to work through it in any sort of logical order, other than what I’ve managed to process first….

I went to the Brighton Pride festival yesterday. I’ve never really been to a festival like that before. We didn’t see so much of it, we went to the main event later on in the afternoon, but all day and evening it felt like one giant street party. It was really as if anything goes was the rule for the city. As if it had been written off as a clean slate on all levels. People could say and do and be whatever the hell they wanted.

And it was beautiful.

I found it hard (and I failed) to not let it romanticise my little mind. It sounds odd, with men covered in feathers, body paint and furs ruling the streets, litter everywhere and more public drinking than the world’s largest beer festival, but that’s how I felt. I felt like it was the sort of place I should take someone for a fun, romantic, weekend away. I didn’t get the chance to explore the city, and I’d really like to. The vibe of the city had so much energy, and at the same time feeling so relaxed and free, it felt like somewhere I could spend a lot of time. Somewhere I’d love to explore, and unearth secrets, whilst doing so with someone, and about them too.

Of course, such thoughts are a bit risky. And I’ll admit, I did send a text to my ex expressing this, in a very much more concise way.

I came home earlier than my friends today, on account of needing to go out for drinks with someone tonight, and hence had to travel alone. I had to make three changes in London due to works, or line closures or something. I’m not sure what it was, just worked around it. I didn’t get a chance to really see the city at all, what with not seeing any sort of daylight until I got to Kings Cross and managed to squeeze in a smoke between trains. However, I yet again fell in love with the city. There is something about the feel of London, it’s constant energy, the freedom of it and it’s quirkiness and beauty (I discovered the miniature shopping arcade in London bridge tube station today, and fell in love) that I just cannot get enough of.

Anyway, to the crux of it. The drinks I came home early for, were, indeed, with said ex-boyfriend. We’ve been talking / texting. I spent the night at his on Wednesday this week. I am decidedly not over-analysing the situation (or attempting to, atleast…)

I’m finding his company so, so easy to be in. It’s almost like getting to know someone all over again, but still knowing the basics on them, while figuring out / re-learing how to interact with them properly and effectively. I won’t lie (as, if anything, I’m determined to be open if I’m going to write this down…) I’m always pleased when I go to see him. And, tonight, I really would’ve preferred not going home alone. Alas, he had family obligations, so that idea went out of the window.

Please, do not get me wrong. What I’ve just written sounds very romantic and “smitten”. I am not, yet. I am very aware of faults in both of us, separately, and as a couple. I can point out issues between us in our former relationship as soon as blink, so please do not believe that I’ve sat here and rose tinted everything. I haven’t. But, on getting back in touch, I’ve remembered how easy and enjoyable contact and time with him can be.

I am well aware that this is hideously risky. Either one of us, or indeed both, could well end up getting quite hurt. I’ve spoken to him about this, and he’s not blind to that idea, either.

I am not pinning all my hopes and my heart on this just yet. I am merely “going with the flow”. The way I look at it, it’s what I want to do, and it isn’t causing any harm, so it can’t be that bad.

I’m not sure, and couldn’t offer up any explanation for the life of me as to where this is going, or how it will pan out.

However, there is only one way to find out….

"What thou will" It can be a saviour, and a curse…

So, I sat and watched “Eat, Pray, Love” the other day. The long and short of it, it’s a film all about a very successful woman’s soul searching journey to three of the world’s most beautiful / inspiring places. It’s a film I’ve been wanting to watch for ages, partly on account of adoring Julia Roberts, and partly because it did genuinely appeal. And, I wasn’t wrong, it’s cracking.

I wasn’t planning on pointing out this copy of the film (along with a beautiful bunch of flowers were bought for my lovely housemate by her lovely friend… Cue vomit) But, it seems I have.

Anyway, a cracking film, thoroughly enjoyable and moving. So, after finishign reading “Chocolat” on tuesday night, I cracked on to the paper version.

Usually, It takes me months to finish a novel. But, with this, i’ve almost cleared a third of the book. I literally hate putting it down. I even get cross when I reach my bus destination. I’m sure at some point I’m going to shout at the driver…

Anyway, i think it’s down to the way it’s written and how (this is so corny) the woman’s words actually paint something to me. Also, I’m finding myself relate to her an awful lot. It’s a little worrying that I’m seeing similarities between myself and a near 40 year old woman who’s world has fallen apart. Some of the things she talked about, how and why her relationships have failed, self-deprication, alienation from a lover, an erratic inability to focus and a tendency to overthink and worry, are all things I can completely relate to. It may not be on the same scale or of equal gravity in every case, but in my little life, it seems so.

So, on Monday I decided it’d be time to text my ex who I encountered last Thursday. We’ve exchanged a few texts and chatted, with the odd flirt (I think) thrown in. The texts have stopped for a day, apparently he has had to block his phone for a few days on account of a gargantuan phone bill…

To be brutally frank, I’m not sure how it’s left my opinion on it all. I’m wondering when I’ll next hear from him, and what that will entail. Also, frantically trying to second guess what he’s feeling about it. I know, of course, that that bit is impossible (don’t worry, I’ve not gone completely potty, just yet….)

I’ve been left wondering where this could go, or whether I’d like it to, or whether it is a good idea at all. Of course, my busy, busy over-thinking little mind tries to pick apart every aspect of conversation between us to try and gather a hint or clue. I know, I should not be thinking so much, and beleive me, I am curbing it.

I am well aware that what I am doing has set me back a couple of months, where my ex-boyfriend held much more of my attention. It’s become a strange task, meshing this thought pattern with my current mind-set. Apparently, over-thinking, self-deprication, nerves and my “I dont give a flying, I’m perfectly content with who and what I am” attitude don’t seem to mesh too well together.

Gradually, though, I think I’ve started to force a dove-tail of the two, with my wonderfully determined exhuberence pushing through (I hope). This is mainly being acheived by drinking and smoking a little (lot) more than usual, spending more money than is sensible and planning as many future ventures as my calendar will allow. Mainly, I’ve managed to find some wonderful bits of clothing…I’ve even found some transition items for the next few months. Oh, and booking my next tattoo. A little reminder of a mantra I try and live by, something that I occasionally forget a bit.

Anyway, make of that what you can.

I’m beginning to think I write a little too much of myself down. I should really learn to keep my trap shut….Or hands still….

Sorting the wheat from the social chaff…It’s quite easy!

After ranting on and on for weeks (I’ve no idea how many), my tax rebate still hadn’t arrive in yesterday’s post. I was far more than irritated. Partly, on account of having definitely over spent since payday and now being terrified to check my account. I forced myself to, and, through my wincing, I spied an utterly ridiculous figure. Apparently, the rebate had been wired to my account about ten days previously. BONUS!!!

So, of course, I toddled off to town. Not to shout at people in the tax office, but to throw my bits of plastic at cashiers. Lovely. Effing. Jubbly.

Well, in lieu of thursday’s behaviour, and subsequent over-analysing, I’ve heard some very mixed reviews on the topic. I’ve been hearing a fair few “do”s and “don’t”s, but, until recently, no condemnation. All my friends have respected the fact that it is my life, and my heart / mind….so it’s my choice. I do love that about my friends, that they all know, in the end, I will make my own choices.

Anyway, I decided, after much mulling, yesterday, to text him. Just a “Hi, how’s it going” message, nothing deep / meaningful / emotional.

My thoughts being, as far as an “ex”, or a break up goes, it was all pretty amicable. There was no violence, no spite. So, to my mind, after what’s just happened, I thought there wasn’t really much need to not be friends.

Also, I really don’t want to have yet another ex to add to the list of those that I can’t talk to. Spending a year or more quietly resenting someone and then only having on and off conversations, or the odd bit of banter, really doesn’t appeal. Not when someone’s been that important in my life. Not anymore.

Anyway, I sent my little text, did assume I’d been given the cold shoulder and a big middle finger when I didn’t get a reply for several hours. However, I jumped to the wrong conclusion, as just as I was heading to bed I got my reply. We’ve exchanged a few texts.

Apparently he’s had a similar frame of mind to me since Thursday, and seemed pretty appreciative of me getting in touch. Well, i won’t lie, i was relieved.

On the topic of friends, understanding and support, there’s just one person I’d like to single out. After last Thursday, one friend, no, acquaintance, really did give me the cold shoulder, and the odd catty text about talking to my ex. He then read my last blog and was, seemingly, very unhappy with what he read.

Last night, he decided to start putting out some pretty abusive tweets. I’m not talking about mild disapproval, I mean some actually rather foul, insulting comments. I hadn’t done anything as such to bring this on, so I was pretty shocked and offended.

To be honest, I was completely baffled by it. I was not particularly close to the guy, and it’s certainly not as if we had any close, personal connection at all. So what on Earth was that all about? Jealousy? Of me? My ex? Is he just a nutjob? The possibilities are endless…

Well, I haven’t hung around to find out, having deleted said person promptly.

I guess it just goes to show you who your real friends are…

I am my own strongest ally, and my most devastating enemy…

Well, I saw four magpies early last week, if you all recall.

Now, I’m not overly superstitious, as a general rule. But, well, you’ll see.

So, in keeping with my current trend of going out minus regular back-up / chapperone I decided it’d be a grand idea to pop out with a lovely colleague. The night, as a whole, was a bit of a hoot. Apparently I am adept at going out on the lash with groups of teenage girls. I’m unsure whether that’s really appropriate behaviour, to be honest, or I’m clinging on to my fading youth? It’s definately a possibility.

Anyway, here’s were I get far too open and share things I’ll probably regret.

On the stairwell in a club, I bumped into my ex. I gave a startled “hello”….(And grabbed hold of Jade’s arm in panic) He explained he couldn’t stop as he was dashing to the loo. Fair enough.

Cut to me rushing through the dancefloor with Jade in search of the solace of the smoking area outside. After regrouping over a bout of chain-smoking, we headed back inside and continued dancing the night away. The usual bumping into friends and pretending to be J-Lo, so it carried on in a rather pleasant way.

At the end of the night, we were stood outside the club, waiting for the girls to re-group. It is then that my ex wanders over. Cue me very-almost-shitting-my-little-black-pants.

Anyway, so we were perched on a wall near the town market. We got to talking. It was all terribly pleasant, almost like the three month silence hadn’t actually happened…

So, talking led to kissing.  And you can  quite simply guess where I am going with this….. Next morning, as we passed my housemate’s room, and i subsequently asked if she had just seen him pass her door, “Oh no, love,” I said, “It weren’t him…Oh…and I am a big fucking LIAR!” and i scuttle back to bed…

Well, I spent friday finding it all quite amusing. Being in awe at how ridiculous a venture it was. So yes, friday was a good, lighthearted follow up…right up until I had a gin or two too many and began to over-dwell.

Anyyway, since around 11pm on Friday evening, I have been picking the event apart. Talking the fall-out over with my housemate, and sitting and over-analysing as much as I tihnk my mind can cope with. (In a spate of distraction-searching, we went and accquired a BBQ on Saturday…..I then drank lots of beer and built the thing. Surreal)

I have no idea how to word how I feel about it. I was doing so very well at being very over him…and Thursday’s events seem to have thrown my mind / heart into a complete tempestuous mess.

Obviously, not being a psychic, I do not know his thoughts / feelings on the matter. I do not know if to him it was just a one-night thing, or if he is waiting on a text. Personally, I have no idea what I think of it all. All I do know is that I am tihnking a lot on it. quite possibly too much. Within around 2 hours I slipped from nonchalant and amused, to mildly obsessive and a bit too neurotic, which is never a very good mix…

The one thing I am 100% of is the fact that I have a major urge to text the bloke… I am well aware that this is massively a risky business. Actually “Massively risky” doesn’t really quite cut it, I don’t think. Anyway, thus far, I’ve managed to quell text-urges with gins and beers.

Although, I am being left to my own devices for a couple of days at the start of this week, and I am a little bit conscious of not trusting myself.

Well, so far, I’m not texting him. I’m abstaining, compeltely.

Yes, abstaining. And I don’t think I’m going to be texting him…..

I don’t think….

Self-awareness. Don’t paddle mud in God’s house.

So, en route home from work today, checking my facebook / twitter (standard bus pass-time), I notice my housemate is seemingly fuming away. She shouldn’t be really, having six weeks off to relax and play and do what the ruddy hell she likes. Curse you all in the education industry. Curse you all. Anyway, seemingly the mood was caused by a “friend” of hers. I say it in inverted commas, as frankly, the woman isn’t treating my housemate with much of a friendly manner.

Anyway, i breached the subject of me finding a little difficulty in organising some future plans. She was by no means aggressive in a direct way towards me, just her approach to the subject. Very forthright. She was in no way attacking me, or my behaviour and attitudes (so don’t you all be misunderstanding me). She was just very frank in pointing out how I manage to get myself a little stuck as I sometimes do. It’s simple, and I hadn’t quite realised it until it was laid out plain and simple. I do not stand up for myself enough. Oh, I am all over fighting my own corner and defending myself when needed, but, and she was right, she pointed out that I very rarely stand up, demand, and take what is due and is mine. I’ve been pondering it a little, and she couldn’t be more correct. I seem to aim to please, and avoid offending people. When, in reality, it’s unlikely that taking what I’m due, would actually cause a fight.

Perhaps it’s time to stand a bit taller. And demand a little more. Thanks for the reality check!

I went to a funeral yesterday. I’m not going to go on about it, as it’d be disrespectful. But I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to rush through a crowd, bash people out of the way, and hug a friend so much in my entire life. Regardless of the inappropriateness of such an action. It was pointed out later at the wake, that one of my friends never thought she would ever see the day where I would be in a house of God, singing hymns. To be frank, I wouldn’t have been able to envisage that a week ago.  I did wonder if a giant sandal-adorned foot was going to come along and stamp me out. Or a booming voice saying “Get out of my house, bitch.” But, it wasn’t so. Perhaps God doesn’t get pissed who goes in her house, so long as they’re respectful.

So, before you tread on her lino, just make sure you wipe your feet.

On leaving the funeral, I saw four magpies. Now, I’m not so heavy on superstition, but magpies always weird me out a little, for some reason. Plus, if there is ever any strength or merit in anything like that, I’d think it’d be at it’s most potent in such a spiritual place. So, if it’s “four for a boy”, then, I’m either going to fall pregnant, o get hitched. I can’t say that isn’t a very bizarre prophecy.

I had another small reality check last night. I was lazily chatting away to a friend. cue usual banter and crudeness, as is standard between us. Then, I said something mildly complimentary, and joked; “That’s possibly one of the nicest things I’ve said to a bloke recently…And i wonder why I’m single” ( < a joke, see)

He simply replied; “You’re single because you want to be.”

Now, that, that tiny little statement, actually nearly blew my mind. It took me quite a while to process it. But, yet again, another person susses me out! It’s true, really, as much as I can bang on about singledom, if I really wanted a chap, I’d go find one. If I desperately craved it, I’d give up on just breezing along to see what may happen someday, and hunt something down.

Hmm….thinking like that was almost a little liberating….

I think it’s safe to say, The Kerr has Returned…

When I left work last night, feeling utterly shattered, I was confronted with around half a dozen texts degarding Amy Winehouse’s death. I was shocked, and a little saddened, as I do beleive, regardless of her demons and personal issues, she was a massively talented artist. It’s a shame for music. What has stuck in my throat, is the fact that within 45 minutes, the news of her death was splashed all over the internet. Social networking sites were ablaze with status’ and tweets about it. So, someone, along the line, be it paramedic, police officer, coroner, whatever, has rang their spouse. “You’ll never guess who’s just died”. Well, there’s definately some breach of something in there, I’m sure. It’s a bit sickening. Especially, I feel, as her dad was mid-flight across the atlantic. We all knew before her father, possibly the biggest campaigner for her survival and salvation. Where’s the respect in it all, really?

Everybody has their own pack. Their closest friends. A group of go-to-guys (or girls). The people first on the list to call up for anight out or a party. The ones that aren’t ever likely to let you down, and they stay close usually for a damned good reason. For me, it is very, very unlikely for me to go out into town, or to a party, without atleast one of them. I know it’s probably a security and safety thing, knowing someone’s always got my back, as I do tend to get into some manner of scrape.

However, this weekend I have, for the first time that I can recall, ventured out twice without a wingman. This for me is totally unheard of.

So, first, I was invited to an 80s party. I only really knew one person that was going to be there, so I certainly had my work cut out. With possibly the most ludicrous outfit on I’ve ever compiled, I set out. To begin with, I tihnk I was doing pretty well, making a concerted effort to be very involved and entertaining, chatting away with everybody etc. Then, after more wine than was a good idea, someone produced something that I really should abstain from. But, it with little or no good judgement left in my capacity, I merrily joined in with everyone, making sure I keep up and stay involved. Well, let’s just say, I am fully aware that any form of narcotics are a bad, bad idea under any circumstance. Not. Clever. Kerr.

Cut to me sitting myself in a corner babbling away about lord knows what, being terrifically self-depricating, from what I can gather. I am unsure as to how I managed to get myself home. I have a feeling I was helped. A lot.

Anyway, second night, I went out with the new girl from work, for her friends birthday. Yet again, knowing almost nobody, and, after the disaster of the night before, I had gotten a little more apprehensive. However, I found much more success, getting along well with the group and staying out dancing until 4am. Also, I do enjoy defending the honour of some random hideous chavette in the kebab shop, mostly because I can.

While in Yates’ last night, I bumped into my housemate’s friend Jodie. We get on well enough and have a laugh. She was out with ehr husband. She separated from him last year but has got back with him in secret, and not told her friends. The general consensus is that the man is a bit of a twat. He came off very arrogant, and said to me, in a quite matter of fact manner, “Oh, but you fancy me though.”

I did tell the bloke “Err, no, you’re FAR too f**king old.” This effectively shut him up, and he stomped off, leaving me feeling quite satisfied.

However, I must come clean. It’s true. I am after your men. I want your husbands. Your boyfriends. Your brothers, cousins, occasionally, your dad. Any straight man, the more unavailable the better. I want them. I fancy them, all of them. I am going out of my way to steal them. I can’t deny it anymore, ladies, I covet all of your men. Guys, I am out to get you. You all best sit down with your wives, as they’re soon to be history. I have no remorse.

Jesus…..Fucking ignorance…..

I like to think I am very well aware of my abilities, skills and good points. Equally, more than aware of my faults. Also, being a bit of a compulsive self-depricator, I’ve a terrible habit of selling myself a bit short. That last one is something I’m working on, and I think it’s working. Not that I’m becoming ego-centric, just more realistic and confident.

Anyway, with that in mind, I am getting a little over-tired of being underestimated, bad-mouthed, patronised and generally spoken down to in spates of petty point scoring. I know it’s human nature to be dominant or superior, but sometimes it doesn’t half get ridiculous. For example, if you’ve something negative to say, either say it in a way that I won’t discover, or keep it to your bloody self. What, pray tell, could you possibly hope to acheive by bringing negativity and bitchy comments to someone’s door?

The only thing I can see as an end result is finding one’s self at the bad end of a very sharp tongue.

Point made, moving on.

I’m a little worried about this degree business, just in case, in my usual flakish behaviour, I change my mind and want to do something different / get itchy feet. It’s happened before, and I’m a little bit wary of my own restlessness. On the other hand, I could be over thinking (yet again) and be worrying over nothing. Right there, is one of my larger flaws. See. Fully aware.

A strange thing happened to me this morning. I was getting dressed for work, in front of the mirror, and I didn’t see Fat Kerr. I know, I know, Fat Kerr hasn’t actually existed for about 6 years. But, constant disapproval of my own shape for god knows how long is a habit that dies hard. Anyway, I stopped for a minute, looked in the mirror, and wasn’t offended. I didn’t see a fat kid anymore. Admittedly, i didn’t see the figure I’d love to have (but seriously, who does?). I just saw me. Which was a refreshing start to yet another run of the mill day…

I’ve been dishing out advice this evening. Love stuff. The irony of this still gets me everytime. i really ought to stop. Apparently I can’t help but counsel. Besides, it’d be rude to ignore people who ask for help, wouldn’t it?

After yesterdays swoon fest, I’ve decided some overly polished pop-star type really isn’t my bag. I’m sure I’d be better suited to some tall dark and handsome theatrical type.

*AHEM*

I swear to god, sometimes I am so damned ridiculous and funny, it actually hurts…..

Totally innocent knob twiddling.Unfortunately. Promise.

For the past couple of weeks my dear housemate has been bubbling away madly in preparation for the past two days. Every year at her school they have an “Activities week”, and she runs one of the activities. I don’t recall ever having any such thing while I was in school. If Iwere lucky, it’d be a day of watching really quite shoddy dvds, or, as a real treat, word games!

The kids on her trip go on a shopping trip, bowling, ice skating, all sorts, topped off by a gig on the second day. It all takes a bucket load of preparing, and she’s not the sort to skip details (like me), and hence gets a bit stressed. It’s all done now, so she’s gone to bed feeling a little post-climax-fatigue.

Also, having to face three days at the end of term where just about nobody in the facility is at all interested in anything other than 3pm Friday.

Anyway, I lend a hand where I can (I’ve been an admin assistant for a few evenings), and today, I again plopped myself behind a lighting desk to fanny around and pretend like I know what I’m doing. Oh, and I did sort out getting the press in, which I was quite pleased with. I have no idea about lighting, and I tihnk it shows a bit. Oops

Anyway, the main point of this, were the acts. I don’t think said school has ever seen such a huge degree of male talent. I was literally staggered. Jaw On Floor. Of course, I’ve had to get a couple of photos *cough*. I have made it quite clear, too, of my inability to cope in a room full of such people (I got put into the “green room”, and felt like a fat kid that owns Greggs the Bakers.) I’m opting the “play it cool” approach, getting some info on who exactly is on my bus before swooping in for the kill….

^I’d like to point out here, that I am well aware that nothing will come of this venture, before anyone takes my ravingly perverse rants from today too seriously.

In other news, I was entrusted with the school run yesterday, which was far easier than I thought. Also, rather nice to be deemed so responsible, and I’m sure a fair few people would argue the point….But anyway, Thanks, Lou…

I realised the yesterday, if and when I ever manage to pull off meeting someone *ahem*, I’m probably seriously going to have to re-assess this blog. I tend to write about whatever I’m pondering over, or what’s happening in my life (if anything). As i am, clearly, overly concerned with chaps (not cowboy clothing, although they do worry me), it’d evidently be something worthy of slotting in here. However, that really would be taking my expertise in relationship self-sabotage to a whole new level. All of those semi-neurotic wonderings that we all go through (I tell myself we all do it, so don’t anyone ruin that delusion for me, please) and tiny doses in insanity are hard enough to control and keep in check in person.

There is no way in hell posting it as a blog for all the world to see (including this fantasy chap) could ever been thought to be anything less than disastrously self-destructive.

Perhaps that is one thing I am really going to have to self-censor.

Anyway, that’s like discussing the likelihood of pleasant weather in May 2012. Bloody Pointless!

I don’t tihnk I’ve ever written so much in one week before…

Now, I’ve said before, that I’m pretty good (or so i think) in a relationship. I’m a little unsure where I find the gall to say that, being single, ha, but I’m pretty confident in it. One thing I do struggle with, as I do on a more general social level, is saying the wrong thing. I’m quite good at self-sabotage, and saying the wrong thing at the wrong time and incurring the wrong response.

A prime example of this, is pointing out to a former partner a TV celebrity, and saying “Oh, if he walked in the door, I’m afraid you’d have your work cut out”. Now, apparently, this is a huge faux pas. Well, my brother has told me this is one thing that you must not do. Seeing as he is a self-proclaimed non-expert, and the fact that he was so adamant, and almost found my gaffe laughable, suggests that he is right?

However, my housemate played this card last night, to her lovely new chap. He seemed rather unaffected and continued happily in bantering the evening away. I’d like to point out, that he seems to be a bloke unphased by me. I know this may sound daft, but i’ve noticed straight men don’t find me easy to deal with, and sometimes it seems it comes between them and my housemate. Yes, that’s sad, but it’s the way it is. Anyway, said chap seems to be more than comfortable, which is refreshing, and rather pleasant. Back to my point (I don’t want him to think that i’m spending to much time thinking about him. Not that he reads my shite). My housemate was adamant that if a relationship is functioning properly, that a comment like that will not have an effect. Admittedly, she wasn’t so long-winded, she shouted “people need to just get a grip!!” This may be the case, or I may be less emotionally mature than I realised. Or maybe it’s the other way around? Any light shed on this wouldn’t half be helpful.

In any case, if that “celebrity shag” were ever to show up on the doorstep, clearly, I would wet my pants and die laughing. Therefore, nothing would ever happen, as I’d be covered in my own urine. Oh, and dead.

One thing that I’ve been pondering this week is how we protect ourselves. It’s an odd thought, I know, but bear with. what got me thinking, was serving ladies in full burqas. Now, don’t get me wrong, I am in no way a racist ( i’m aware that that phrase usually preceeds a racial slur), but i sometimes feel a bit unsettled when I can’t see someone’s face. I completely apreciate the sacred nature of them, and in a way I admire those ladies for their faith, as it’s a sort of faith that I don’t seem to have. Anyway, it got me thinking about concealment. These ladies, to my semi-ignorant understanding, cover themselves as a sign of modesty and being humble in public.

Those views in themselves are quite good virtues to be trying to convey. I, on the other hand, tend to dress my body and face in a way that attracts attention. It is almost like I am shouting “Oi! Look at me!” However, I sometimes wonder, to what degree is that self-expression, just how I feel that morning when I get dressed. Or, on the other hand, how much is that me conforming to what is expected of me by society, or how much of that is a brash front? To me, it seems, almost, that society, especially in Peterborough, expects to see gay man as mildly offensive, wearing a face full of make up and outfits that make them stand out from the crowd. And that, in itself, warrants the mildly offensive looks that I receive.

Now, I know I am fully entitled to wear what the hell I want, and to express myself externally in whatever way I see fit. I am aware that on occasion I can look a little “off the wall”, but, is that the way gay society has been forced to behave, or feel? Sometimes I wonder, that, as we are deemed a fringe circle of society, and separate from social norms in the eyes of many, that we must adorn ourselves in a distinguishable manner.

Thus, maintaining the gap.

I am not saying that we should dress “straight”, just that I recognise the pressure of it, and the need for a change in perspective. At the end of the day, I’d dearly love to see some more general acceptance, of everything, black, white, short, tall, gay, one legged or three.

But, I’ll admit, I’m an awful romantic….

Tearing down shelves, and straightening records.

Well, since my last little interweb spout, I’ve had a few questions about my attitudes towards dating, guys etc.

I’ve sat and re-read a few things, and I can see where people get the wrong idea. I do seem to come off a little desperate, constantly yearning for Mr Right, to pop up and into my life, right this minute, and make my world shine.

That? it’s simply not the case.

You can call it cynicism, realism, nihilism, take your pick. But, despite my ranting, that’s not what I am after.

I’ll admit, I’m a sucker for romance. I’d love to be swept off my size tens, and see cartoon bluebirds flutter around my head. But, honestly, who wouldn’t want that?

At the end of the day, a lot of my “shelf” routine is for effect. It’s funny, on a level, to hear a bitter little cow whinge about singledom in a rather eloquent way. But, at the end of it all, I am not desperate or itching for a bloke to walk into my life right now. (also, it’s quite an unlikely thing to happen…) I will willingly admit that someday, it’d be lovely to find a little romance. A romance that blows all of my hang-ups and insecurities right out of the water (Which I have more of than I lead most of you to beleive) 

But right now? I’m, for the most part, content. Of course, seeing couples everywhere can be a little gut-wrenching, but that is just the way of things. Everyone’s time will come for such things. Mine may not be right now, so I am busy being busy with relishing myself.

Before you try to love another, make sure you can love yourself.

Wow, smashing that shelf up took less time than I expected. I should clearly be a DIY superstar….