Diary Archive

Diary will be updated with a 'weekly roundup' every Sunday evening (GMT), as well as any adhoc updates as and when I'm bored.

Other blogs:
Citz
Melker
Vega
Taj (3T)

MJ sites:
KOP MB
Neverland Nights

Celeb sites:
MJ gallery
Britney news
Hecklerspray
x17online
TMZ

Animal sites:
WWF
Uncaged Campaigns
PETA
BUAV
ECEAE
Caring Consumer

 
Current cam pic To read this blog page, start from the bottom and work your way up.

= Home Sweet Home = Workin' Day & Night
= Head space = Social life = News reel



2009-1-18 16:35:00 GMT+00:00

Wed, 19th November

Write like a BML!

It's one of those things you never even knew was missing in your life, until a kind and astute soul came along and offered it to you in all its splendour. Then, only then, do you start to wonder how you ever coped without it.

Yes folks, you too can write just like me. All you have to do is install this font by pasting it into C, Windows, Fonts and you're hooked up. Oh, imagine the possibilities! Click to download font - 'LJ.ttf' *

PS. You're welcome.

* = you may have to use it in size, like, 24 for it to be worthwhile. Oh well.

Tue, 18th November

Christmas List

I'm at work, and felt like doing an entry. But I couldn't think of anything to write, so I decided to share with you my Christmas list for this year, as sent out to family members and interested parties this morning. Not that I expect anyone to find it interesting, it's just a way of passing some time.

So, I've thought long and hard, and concluded that this year, I would like...

  • a video to DVD converter, or a DVD player that converts videos to DVDs at touch of button. Not one that involves lots of faffing and complicated manuals.
  • Estee Lauder Intuition perfume
  • silver anklet (strong one that won't snap as soon as you look at it)
  • green pyjamas
  • hairdryer that has a cold setting. One that's actually cold, not lukewarm. And one where you hit a button to make it cold, and don't have to hold down the cold button the entire time until you've lost all feeling in your arm and just no longer care any more.
  • any Body Shop body butter, moisturiser, smelly items. Preferably the tangerine stuff.
  • Davidoff Cool Water perfume. Not the aftershave, mum.
  • truffles / chocolate liqueurs
  • Boots 'spa' collection - shower gels and the like.
  • Atonement DVD
  • Penelope DVD
  • Juno DVD
  • if you can find cheap ones, GHD straighteners would be good. But not if they're really expensive as there's just no point in that. And all gifts should have a point, I'm sure you'll agree.
  • 'Lolita' book - Vladimir Nabokov
  • life to make sense again.

Sun, 16th November

Weekly roundup

Moving swiftly on from my previous entry, we had Suki in at the vet earlier in the week. He said she's showing signs of senility and can't guarantee she'll be around much longer. Living in this house is becoming just one endless bad dream. She has spondylitis in her spine and has been prescribed tablets and some sort of syrup concoction we have to shoot into her mouth from a syringe. I'm growing to loathe our vet more and more with each passing day.
Work's shit, but they're all being extra nice to me thanks to what happened...
.
.
My head's in a terrible state, but for once I mean physically. On Wednesday night I fell out of bed and smashed my forehead against the corner of my desk. I had streams of blood running down my face and had to wake my dad up, who had to clean me up and check I wasn't about to die. (There's now blood all down the hall staircase, and even some on the wall which I can't wait to point out to my mum.) I went back to bed but got no sleep as the blood kept running down my head and I had to continually catch it with tissue all night long.
The next morning I went into work but started to feel dizzy soon afterwards. I showed it to our office first aider, who insisted on taking me to hospital. We spent most of Thursday morning in the hospital while I got seen by four different doctors and a nurse who yelled at me. The whole thing took hours and the end result was that the consultant wanted to send me for X rays. When I asked him how long it would take, he said he couldn't tell me, but would send someone in to stitch it up. When I asked how long that would take, he said he couldn't tell me, so I gave up and left. I was given a leaflet about head injuries and told to take the next few days off work and avoid all computers and bright lights. Unfortunately I'm still in my three-month probationary period at work, meaning I don't yet receive sick pay, so I went back to work and sat at my desk for the rest of the day with a bag of frozen sweetcorn pressed to my head. Everyone kept bringing my cups of tea and offering to do my work for me, which made me wish I injured myself every week.
It's now Sunday and the swelling has gone down enormously, which is a relief. Yesterday it had swollen down over my right eye, leaving it half closed, which was slightly scary. However, I've managed to clean most of it up and am now 99% sure I'm going to live. Which is a shame.
What a pointless category. The highlight of my week was yesterday, when I spent the day wandering around the West End and Glasgow Uni with my mum. I love the West End, and I had a lovely day despite the fact that every time the wind blew my fringe up to reveal my bloodied forehead passers by would gasp and pull their children away from me. Just another bonus from this injury.
I don't have any news. Although last night I decided to do a video about my head, in the hopes of garnering some sympathy.

Did it work?

Sun, 9th November

Who's the fairest of them all.

I can't put this off any longer. Last Wednesday, around 2:30 a.m, our beautiful dog Bracken died. He was taken to the emergency vet in the middle of the night, and went his last ever sleep with my mum holding his head in her hands.

Our beloved boy had been deteriorating more and more over the last year. He was nearly 14 and, along with worsening arthritis, was becoming increasingly senile. On Tuesday night, he appeared to go downhill in a matter of hours. When I went to bed, he was anxious and finding it difficult to walk, and then at around 1:45 on Wednesday morning my mum woke my brother and I and brought us downstairs to say our goodbyes. What happened next will haunt me as long as I live, and I don't think I'll ever feel ready or able to share it.

My mum and dad left with him in the back of the car at around 2, and while my brother went back to bed I sat in the TV room, clinging to Merlin and sobbing into his fur. My mum had made up a make-shift bed on the sofa so she could sleep in there with Bracken, and I crawled under her covers with Suki, and prayed for even the slimmest chance that they'd bring my Nose back home.

They returned around 3, and the three of us stood in the kitchen and cried. We talked for hours and racked ourselves with guilt and wished he could have taken us with him. Before we knew it, it was 5 a.m. and Barack Obama had been announced as the first black president of the US. We watched his victory speech and saw the majority of America cheering in the streets. We watched fireworks going off and millions of Americans crying tears of pure elation. We watched with puffy eyes, and we cried the night away.

That night, fireworks went off up and down Britain in celebration of Guy Fawkes night. I hated everything and everyone that day. I hated the celebrating Americans and the celebrating British. I hated all vets and everyone who'd never had a dog. I even hated myself for all the times I just didn't take him in my arms and cuddle him like he only ever wanted me to do.

It's been nearly five days now, and I still cry. My mum is a mess, and Merlin is completely lost. The house is as hollow as we are, and all around us are reminders of our gorgeous big polar bear. My mum brought me back a lock of his beautiful white fur from the vet's, and I can't even bring myself to look at it. His ashes were delivered in a pale wooden casket on Saturday morning, and I haven't managed yet to walk past them without bursting into tears. I still can't really comprehend that he's gone. I keep walking into the kitchen and expect to see him heaving himself out of bed and lumbering towards me in that unforgettable way he had. At night, I lie awake, waiting in the silence for that unmistakable bark that, towards the end, became almost constant. He can't be gone, he just can't be. This was Bracken. He was always there, always. I don't think any of us realised until now what a massive part of our lives he truly was. We got him when I was 12 - in my first year of high school. He's been there through it all and I can't, I refuse to, believe he's not going to be there for any more. All I want is to sink my face into his mane of Aslan-like fur and wrap my arms around his enormous neck. I want to kiss him on the nose and tell him I'll always adore him. My first dog. My big baby who used to follow me around just so he could give me paws. The big overgrown sheep who even, at the very end, wagged his tail the second I said his name.

He didn't deserve anything that happened to him, and that's something we'll all have to live with for the rest of our lives. Every tear I've cried is for him, and every time I'm convinced my heart is breaking I'll know it's nothing compared to what he went through.

I wanted to put up a few pictures of him over the years we were blessed with him, and I don't think anyone could believe how many tears I've cried over these. I even found a video taken the night before he died, where he lay sleeping in the TV room and I decided to film him to show how gorgeous he looked. In it I say something about him going to sleep in his own doggy way - not realising that a day later, that would be exactly he would do.

I love you, Bracken. Rest in peace darling.







PS. I appreciate my friends reading this will be worried about me and I understand they're going to want to ask me if I'm OK. I'm not. I'm not OK and I doubt I ever will be again. If possible, I'd really appreciate if you just didn't ask me about this. When I'm ready, if I ever am, I'll talk about it. This entry is actually my first time telling anyone - I figured it was best to get it done in one go. Tomorrow is Monday, and it's a new week. I'm going to use that to start afresh, and while I'm not OK in the slightest, I'll act like I am. I'll force myself to get back to whatever the hell resembles normal and you won't hear anything more about this. So, I'd appreciate if you could help me out on this by not asking me anything about it. Thanks very much for reading, and for caring.

Wed, 5th November

I'll always remember the fifth of November

I promise.

Mon, 3rd November

Irony?

There are a lot of things in this life that are ironic. Most recently, the ironies I've discovered centre around work, and it is these ironies which I shall share with you now. Since I am at work, and should in fact be working, I shall instead write up a diary entry about such work, and in doing so prolong the carrying out of any actual work.

Firstly, I find it very ironic that I work here at all. When I was 17 and I quit university, my first job was at 10 Newton Terrace. I worked as an Office Junior for an accounting firm, where the highlight of my day was doing the tea round. It was my first experience of full time working life and I hated it. Now, nearly eight years later, I've found myself back at Newton Terrace, this time at number 12. I work literally next door to the office where I had my first job, only this time I'm an Office Manager. It's strange to watch my old colleagues spill out on the street and realise they don't recognise me from that deflated 17 year old. To be honest, neither do I.

Secondly, I find it ironic how I'm currently handling our UK recruitment, and having to reject both applicants and agencies on a daily basis. It takes me back to this summer, when I was unemployed for two months and literally spent every day calling around agency after agency, begging them for something, anything to get me out the house. Now, on a daily basis, I take calls from those very same agencies – some of whom even remember me from the summer. I pretend to listen, as they once did, while they attempt to gain my sympathy with stories of redundancies brought on by the credit crunch, and how if they could just meet me for five minutes they're sure they could find something to offer my company. I reject them with glee, and smile as I realise the credit crunch apparently has its benefits after all. I'm also sending out a depressing number of rejection letters to hopeful candidates – one of the worst parts of my job. I know all too well what a rejection letter can to do someone, and guilt hangs over me with every word I type and every envelope I seal.

I'm not actually sure if this is irony, or karma. I hope it's the latter.

Sun, 2nd November

Weekly roundup

My house is freezing and I can't feel my toes any more. You'd think given that it's November, we'd associate ourselves with a little thing called central heating, but no. Not in this house. In this house, windows are opened to 'air' each room, and the Mother walks about fanning herself and complaining of her latest hot flush. According to her, the temperature in here is comparable to that of an oven about to burst into flame. Thus, I shiver. And shiver. And, I suspect, will shiver all winter. It gets pretty tough at times.
It's been an insanely busy week, one I was all too glad to see the back of. I only have just over two weeks left of my 'probation' period, and then I'm a full blown employee. God help them.
Doing ok, but absolutely dumbfounded by the fact it's now November. Before too long, it'll be a year ago that I went travelling. That can't possibly be allowed to happen, so unless I find some way to pause the passage of time, I'll have to bite the bullet and kill myself.
I went out with A on Friday night for long island ice teas and a gourmet Pizza Hut dinner. It was a fun night - Thriller was blasting out of pretty much every bar and we got hit on by Superman, Batman and, surprisingly, Yogi Bear. I've never been out in the city on Halloween before, but I definitely intend to do it more often. It was actually fun with A too, we met straight from work so she had all her optician gear with her, and I finally got her drunk enough to let me test her eyes. I'm telling you, you don't truly know a person until you've analysed the nerve endings at the back of their eye balls, and something tells me our friendship will be a better one for it.
I don't have any news. I rented The Last King Of Scotland (bleuch) and Penelope on Saturday night, as I lay on the sofa still nursing the previous night's hangover. I saw Penelope in the cinema in Seattle and it took me right back to waddling back to my hotel after the showing, secretly wishing I was cool enough to have a pig's nose. Aaah, happy times.

     
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