Wednesday, June 13, 2018

While I'm here .....

Last thing I'm going to post tonight, I promise.

At primary school there was this one boy, he was special. He bullied me actually but that never really bothered me a great deal. I struggled to run well so ended up falling over a lot trying to keep up with my classmates. This was an issue that contributed to the bullying or rather helped make me a target.
Lloyd Cole. He was a dark haired chap. We went to the same schools all the way through I believe. He was only really prominent to me in primary. He had an older brother who I remember as being quite a looker the last time I saw him. So I'm sure Lloyd will have grown up to be dashingly handsome too.
During primary school Lloyd had this blond mate called Shane. The three of us were almost friends because even though Lloyd picked on me we had a good laugh sometimes. At some point towards the end of primary school Shane moved away. There isn't a great deal to say about Lloyd.
He probably liked me and being a boy, was not very good at expressing this. I don't know. One time I recall walking through the village home in the evening (in regular clothes, not school uniform). Lloyd and Shane were following me on their bicycles. They were doing a infant version of cat calling. I distinctly remember at one point I stopped walking and turned to them. Lloyd said something about wanting me to feel his middle leg and they both laughed. I wanted them to leave me alone and I think shortly after that point they did. I knew what he was suggesting but did not understand the sexual connotations at that time.

I still think about Lloyd sometimes. I am hesitant to confess this to the internet at large, but here goes. I actually fantasize about him. In these fantasies we are both fully mature adults I hasten to add. Anything else would just be very weird and a big no. Going on the route him and his brother might have been headed he might actually have ended up a criminal, but I hope not.

Catherine Adams

Ah Catherine. What isn't there to say?

When dwelling on the memorable events of my primary school years I can't not mention dear Catherine. She was a pretty blonde girl and we were best friends.
I don't know what year we were in when this first thing happened, but it was definitely primary school sometime. We'd been on a trip (or we leaving to go on one) and were on a coach. Catherine and me were seated together when she suddenly leaned over and kissed me. I reacted, like anybody else would, and said loudly what are you doing? She shushed me and whispered that it was okay, nobody could see us. She might have kissed me again and I guess I liked it.
After that during playtime we would often go and hide in the thick hedges that lined the field on the playground so nobody could see us and just sit there kissing each other.

I wore glasses as a child and had lovely thick framed red ones (I liked them at the time). One day Catherine asked to try them one. Me being the innocent little thing that I was kindly let her. And they did look kind of good on her. She said she wanted to keep them. I told her my mum wouldn't be happy about that and I needed them back. Catherine said she'd given them back tomorrow. Of course when I went home that day my mum was rather unimpressed when I confessed to having given my glasses to my friend. She told me they cost a lot of money and I needed to get her to give them back. Luckily for me Catherine did return them.

One day Catherine came round my house to play and we went up to my room. Now out of all my older cousins only one is female (me and my sisters are the youngest of the lot). My aunt had kindly sent over a couple of black bin bags of clothes which Fiona had grown out of for us to have whatever we wanted out of. This day was shortly afterwards. Catherine inquired about the bags, opening one. So I told her and kindly offered that she could have anything from them if she wanted. But not these I'd said, indicating a lovely dark green velvet skirt and sweater which was draped over my chair because they were mine, I'd already picked those.
So immediately she set her sights on that outfit and said but she wanted it. I said she couldn't have it. What about anything else in the bag? Catherine said she would just take it anyway. I said I'd tell mum and dad. She then said she'd tell them I said she could have it. I loudly, horrified cried but I didn't.
So we went downstairs and things played out. Do you know what still hurts the most about this?
My parents believed that bitch over me, their own daughter. I insisted I'd never said she could have the outfit and they just told me I shouldn't have said she could have it in the first place. It wasn't fair to say something and then just change my mind about it. So that scum sucking liar walked out with my beautiful new second hand outfit. I bothered her about it for ages after that at school and eventually Catherine confessed that she had chucked it out because she didn't like it. I hollered at her then what did you take it for in the first place? She just shrugged.
My mum later said that because she was my friend they pretty much believed the sun shined out of her butt (I'm paraphrasing).
I never even got to wear that outfit once.

Oh but that's not all. The Catherine saga has one more chapter.
So we were playing round her house one day, the only time I ever went to hers. We were in her room playing Barbies and her step mum called her down. I wasn't going to go along but Catherine suggested that I should. We went down to the kitchen where a couple of glasses of squash were set out on the counter. I was thirsty and asked Catherine if one of them was for me but she wouldn't answer. I tried to get her to go and ask but she wouldn't do that either. I said how I didn't want to drink one if none of them were for me. Eventually she got fed up of me going on about it and shortly asked if I was going to have one or not. I elected not but she reasoned that if there wasn't one for me her step mum could always make another. So I drank one and we went back upstairs.
You can probably guess where this is going. Some time later step mum calls me down again. She asks if I had a juice. I said I did. She said what makes me think she'd made me one? I told her Catherine said it was okay to have one. So she calls her down too and of course, like the good friend she is, Catherine denies it. So step mum goes all guilt trip on me. Because of me Catherine's little brother will have to go thirsty blah blah blah. I turned to Catherine and exasperatedly said why didn't she just tell me? This is what I was trying to avoid. Step mum says I'm no longer welcome in their house. She won't have liars. I start to go back upstairs and she asks where I'm going. I say to get my stuff and step mum says Catherine will get it for me. Catherine begs her for five more minutes and she agrees. So we go back up to play for five more minutes.
Now Catherine has some cool Barbie kit that I'd never seen before such as a little bra and knickers and slightly different shaped high heel shoes. So as punishment for being a lying little bitch I tucked a few bits of her Barbie clothing into my bag when she wasn't looking. At that age stealing Barbie stuff is adequate punishment. As I was leaving Catherine said to me so I'll see you at school? Normal tone of voice as if nothing had happened. I replied I guess, in a rather dejected tone and left.
What I should have said is go suck a dick. I hope you rot in hell you little maggot.

As you can see I'm not bitter at all. We went to the same middle school as well, but ran in different social circles by then. In year 5 or 6 she left. Her dad was in the RAF and must have got reassigned because they moved back to her native Netherlands. On her last day Catherine and her girlfriends were crying and hugged each other goodbye. Due to how close we used to be I tried to hug her goodbye too, but each time she turned her back on me and ignored me.

She was an abusive manipulative little bitch and I hope I never see her again. Fuck you blondie and good riddance.

Primary School Drama

There is this incident from way back when I was in primary school that still sticks in my mind. I can't sleep and somehow my mind has drifted back to this day.

So I was in second year at the time. A small group of us had been given this art task to do outside the classroom. There was this area in the hallway between the year 2 and 3 classrooms that had tables and chairs set up in it, with equipment drawers and that sort of thing nearby. We were set up at some of these tables and left unsupervised to get the work done. The teacher went back into the classroom. As soon as she left everyone got up and left the table, heading round the corner to the library area and only me and this other girl Shelly were left.
This infuriated me. I complained to Shelly that it was unfair for us to do all the work and they get to take some of the credit. Besides it was too much, we could not get the task done without more help. I wasn't going to let this happen on my watch. I said to her let's go and get them back. Shelly replied with something along the lines of forget about them. Let's just concentrate on this.
I said no, I'm going to make them come back and marched round the corner. I found the slackers seated amongst the library stacks on cushions. I told them they couldn't leave all the work to us, it wasn't fair. Miss had given the task to all of us, not just me and Shelly. They didn't care and handed me a cushion, tried to get me to sit down with them. About that point I spotted the headteacher heading this way and said as much.
At this the group leapt to their feet, throwing the cushions down and ran back to the tables. I yelled at them about throwing the cushions because this was not allowed, as I carefully put mine back on the floor before following them.
In my absence Mrs Pepper had come out to check on us, only to find Shelly sat alone working. So we were ushered back into class and I got told off along with the others.
I was absolutely incensed at this. I stood up at my desk and stubbornly refused to comply with the punishment she was dishing out, shouting at her how unfair it was. I told her I was only trying to get them to come back to the table and called Shelly out for not backing me up on that. Mrs Pepper said it was wrong of me to be mad at her when she was the only one doing any work. I continued to shout about the injustice of it all and may even have called the teacher a bitch or said I hated her (I can't remember for sure). I think she was trying to get me to stand in the corner and may have relegated me to the hallway in the end. I don't recall how it ended.
I was always the shy quiet one, so it took a hell of a lot for me to stand up in class and rave so loudly about something, with everyone looking at me. Clearly this still stings. For reference I'm now in my thirties.

Wednesday, November 08, 2017

I'm still here

I didn't know I could ever feel like this. I have no idea why I feel so depressed. It is so deep I think it needs a whole new word to describe it. All the songs and movie quotes about depression rolled together can't pin down this feeling.

It's not that I am questioning the entire point of my existence, which I am, but it's just everything. It's more than just me. Our entire world has no purpose. We are a plague upon the earth, infesting it, bleeding it dry of all natural resources and slowly killing it after over populating it. That's what is happening. China has population control in place because they need it, but sometimes I think we all could benefit from such controls and so too could the poor planet. Says me, who has two unplanned kids and loves growing them so much I'd gladly have more. It's such a contradiction.
It seems to be in built (in some of us at least) the overwhelming desire to make more of ourselves. Some people don't feel this so powerfully until later in life, if ever, but it is always there.

The world is full of so many problems that will never be overcome. No matter how hard we try. For my entire lifetime (all of 36 years at the time of writing) there have been starving children in Africa and probably long before I was born. Despite the millions in aid that have allegedly been poured into the country those children will still be starving in the same conditions long into the future. Not the same children obviously, but the problem remains. Despite this the struggling people of Africa continue to breed and fight hard to make the best they can of the life they have, probably in the knowledge it will always be like that, but hoping the future will be brighter for their ancestors some day.

Hope. That word has a lot to answer for. It is sometimes all we have to hang onto. Even then it is sometimes not enough. I mean sure why do we give a damn about the struggles of people in Africa? Or the asylum seekers and refugees that plague Europe at the moment, all making a beeline for the UK come to that? Because it is human nature to care about each other and want to help make each others lives better. Apart from those evil who exist among us only out for what they can get and don't give a damn about the rest of us. They shouldn't be breathing our air, but here we are anyway. Looking at it from an outside perspective the solution is very inhumane. Kill. End lives. But there is too much of that going on too.

Every week in the news there is some new story about a mass killing somewhere and it never ends. Just like the eternal gun law debate in America. Nothing there will ever change because the people in power who could fix (or attempt to) the problems either will never agree amongst themselves on new or changed laws and bring said laws into effect or are just too damn scared about what would be said to do anything about what's happening. That's the burden of democracy. In order for anything meaningful to happen enough people must agree on the action to take and they never do. So in lew of any alterations the deaths continue to roll on. Arguably even if laws or rules were altered it might not affect the mass killings, but at least action would have been taken to try and fix things instead of continually arguing about things and not doing a damn thing that matters. There will always be death.

So that brings me back to my life. I feel like there is no purpose in me being here and often wonder why I am still here? Now I have two children who need me, a infant nephew and a sister who is getting married next year. Non of whom I wish to burden with the lifelong scars of my suicide and I am not at that point yet anyway. But I worry that day will come. The day when I reach the edge of the metaphorical cliff and see only darkness behind me, the long drop stretching out ahead, calling to me. Go ahead Claire, jump. It's time.

To cap it all of the benefit I am currently in receipt of, well I am no longer eligible after my last review apparently. Fun times ahead then. Time to start hunting for work again. That pointless task. Hours put into the applications and nothing back in return. There is little point in it. Nobody wants to employ me it seems. I have a good CV and am a hard and dedicated worker. Who knows why I have no luck. Ugh, I hate being so negative. Time for therapy; which consists of chocolate and distracting video games.

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Deep Dark Depression

I never thought I'd feel like this. I am dead inside. Life is nothing. A part of me actually wants to die. The other part wants to live, but I am not sure why. There is no joy to be had, no purpose in doing anything. I just want to find a dark, comfy place to hide away and remain for an indefinite period of time. I don't dwelling on negative things. There's not much else I can say. I wake up each day and wonder why I am still here.

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

Delicious Banana Bread

This is something that I make using the hand written recipe my sister wrote out years ago and I do not know the original source for it (she may even have made it up), but it is so yummy I have to share this.

8oz Self Raising Flour
Pinch of Salt
2oz Margarine
1 Egg
2oz Sugar (Caster/Superfine)
Grated Rind of 1 Lemon (Although I use a squirt of bottled lemon or lime juice as a substitute. The kind you keep in a very small bottle in the fridge)
3 Mashed Bananas (In order to use up the very ripe bananas in our house I often make this with 4)
Milk (if needed)

1) Sieve flour and salt together.
2) Rub in margarine.
3) Add egg, sugar, lemon rind (or lime/lemon juice if using my substitute) and banana.
4) Mix thoroughly.
5) If necessary add milk to give soft consistency. (Although I find when using lemon/lime juice, the milk is not necessary).
6) Place mixture in a greased and floured loaf tin and bake in 180 C (Gas 4) oven for 45 minutes.
7) Leave in tin for 5 minutes after removing from oven when it's cooked.
8) Turn out and cool on a wire tray/cooling rack.

It's that easy and so delicious. If you have any questions about this please leave me a comment and I will get back to you. Enjoy :)

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

I'm dreaming of fire, flying and ..... witches?

My dreams are so vivid at the moment. I have to tell you about the last two I had.

Night before last I dreamed about a fire. I was inside somewhere (but am not sure what the building was) The inside was all black and there was a small fire in a box shelf at about head height. I am 5'4 for reference. I attempted to throw some gel liquid on it to put the fire out but most of it ended up falling on the dog that was at my feet. I then became fixated on cleaning the dog's head, since some of it was close to it's eyes.

I think I left after that, but it's a bit fuzzy, the memory of between that and the next bit.

I was outside. There were scores of firefighters just sitting on the ground resting. I stepped through them as I went because they were in my way, so to speak.

The setting by the way was close to water. We were on the edge of some vast expanse of water, but I cannot specify if it was the ocean or a lake or what. I think the initial fire location was in a wooden hut on a wooden jetty though.

Next I was at 'home' in my bed (dream home and bed not my real life ones). It was night time and I was woken by people shouting outside in the hallway. "Get out! Get out!" I was in some kind of communal residential building. I went and opened my door to look out into the hallway (where the main stairs were). But there was nobody shouting, only a handful of people sat on the floor chilling.

I then realised that is what they must have experienced. (I am not sure which 'they' I was referring to here) After that I felt an immense amount of guilt. Since that initial small fire that I had failed to extinguish had gone on to rage out of control. I blamed myself for the deaths that occurred and all the destruction. I was near tears.

The dream ended with me writing a post on Reddit titled : Am I responsible? (Or something similar) and detailed the whole thing.

Obviously something that comes to mind is Grenfell tower. I am sure experts could tell me in detail the meaning of all that. Lol. What I dreamt about I mean. To be honest I dream about firefighters rather a lot. I am often a part of the crew. Not sure why. If that's what I am supposed to be doing I don't think there is much chance of that. I am not fit enough certainly, to be a firefighter.

Then last night my dream was a wild adventure, with the viewpoint changing constantly. I don't think I can even retell it with the sequence in which the dreams happened. I am not even sure of the time period.

Okay so I was a young woman (in a long plain dress, I can't pin down the fabric but it was handmade, possibly woollen, pre mass clothing retail era) I was poor and was taken in by someone. She had taken in other people too and lived in a large house in the countryside (not rich manor house large) She wasn't really well off but had land and plenty of 'family' (other people that lived there). Together they all did what needed to be done day to day. The main hub was the kitchen. In exchange for being taken in I simply had to pitch in. I was however forbidden from associating with a young man that I grew to like.

One of the other women who was taken in at that time later fell pregnant. I think the man responsible went away or had to go away for a while. I am not sure where or why though. She was waiting longingly for him to return.

I think I was a man and I was in that house but the three women in charge did not want me there. Both me and them (or at least one of them) was able to levitate and this was completely normal at the time I dreamt it. They tried to chase me out. I levitated and flew up to the second floor (ground was floor one) via a window. One of them flew up a spiral staircase that was at the opposite end of the house to said window. I then raced along the upper corridor before any of them could reach me and went out the window at the far end of corridor (on the right hand side of the house from the first window if that makes sense). I then broke the window just above me on the third floor so they'd think I went in there and then flew to the roof and sat up there very quietly.

It took a little time but they found me in the end. The woman came and towered above the rooftop, looming over me, still flying. I could only see the one. Then I was a woman. I went to the opposite end of the roof to where she was hovering and laid in a rectangular hollow. A man came (or the man from before) came and laid over the woman, protecting her from the wrath of that other woman. Then I don't know what happened or how that ended. That scene finished there.

There was a small group of people (at least two) same time period as before. In fact I think this is all same period around the same house. The people were running and hiding, possibly escaping from the house but I can't be sure. Beyond the house garden lawn there is vegetables growing and a shed/warehouse type building with stacks of crates of veg around the front of it (and the front is facing away to the left of the house as you look at the shed/warehouse) There are small and large trees bordering the divide between the lawn and the vegetables. The people hide from view of the house as much as they can until they reach the outbuilding.

There was a small plane here. I was not aware enough in the dream of it to be able to specify what type or even if it had an engine and propellers. All I know is it had wings, a cockpit and a stick with which to control the pitch. Someone else was going to fly. We got in and took off but the pilot pulled back too far and ended up elevating vertically. I shouted not to do that as it would stall but it was too late. The plane crashed, but no harm was done. Next attempt I was in control but had no shoes on. Somebody gave me some boots to wear that were a bit too big. We were in such a hurry I was multi tasking. I was shoving the boots on my feet at the same time as I was taking off. It was as if the plane was drunk though. I had one hand on the controls and one hand one a boot. So the plane lurched to the left and I was unable to gain much altitude. I skimmed over the fields, aiming to dodge between two particular trees when I reached a treeline between fields. The thing was the wind kept blowing me further along the tree line. For some reason I was fixated on this one gap but struggled to reach it. I could have gone through the trees at any point, without the wind buffeting me into one, but I didn't.

Later on, still flying and still trying to hide, but with a little more altitude this time, I dodged behind a long hillside. I am not sure what I was trying to hide from but I think they saw me. There was a row of these hillsides (or maybe they were mountains, I am not sure) and I was dodging behind the cover of one, then zipping around another and another.

There was a man and a woman. They were pretending to be lovers for some reason and went to get a ride. I am not sure what kind of transport this was, but you paid the person a fare and rode in a wooden box. There were other people in the box, sat on the floor. I don't think there were windows but there were probably wheels. The woman tried to leave with all the man's money but was prevented. In the end only the woman took the ride and the man kept all of his money apart from the fare for the woman. He went back to his little plane (the same one from before) and spotted a man walking away. The man carried a bag over his shoulder. The bag was large, square and white, with a red stripe pained across the front from one top corner to the opposite bottom corner. The bag also had a long thick strap. This colour scheme was the mark of a man who had just left jail and was rehabilitated. This was the second time I had seen one of these men in my dream but I don't recall the circumstances of the first one.

The man with the plane was thinking, after what happened with the woman, that this was the last time he would try to help anybody. But upon seeing the bag man he would have felt bad if he didn't give him a ride somewhere. He thought I'll be right back to help you and climbed in his plane.

That's the end. I woke up after that.
I have a dream diary that I sometimes note down my dreams in but these are way too detailed for me to be able to write in the small space I have there. I hope anybody that reads this finds it interesting and maybe inspiring even. I could probably craft a story or two from these. If you feel like you could please feel free. If you do create a story based on either of my dreams to share online all I ask is that you credit me and/or link back to here. I think that is probably unlikely, the amount of people that see my blog, but I feel I have to say that just on the off chance.
Sweet dreams x