It's that time again folks.....yep...you got it....3.30 in the ay em. I wish I had something to say but I'm feeling somewhat bereft when it comes to words.

Flip, don't you just hate those random shivers...those ones where someone is supposed to have trundled unthinkingly over your final resting place. I don't hate it cos of it's morbid connotations, I hate it cos somehow, I always manage to injure myself in some small but painful way in the process. Like just now, I proper rapped my knuckles on the edge of my computer....=0(  it lefted a mark even.

I'm terribly clumsy, not with things...I am not a serial smasher of mum's priceless heirlooms, but I am clumsy with me. By priceless heirlooms, I mean her favourite mug. I am forever bumping into things or miscalculating the length of my feet and tripping over them, I think it's because I am not paying attention. The only dangers I consider are the obvious ones....speeding motor vehicles, precipitous drops and enraged cattle. That's not an exhaustive list, but it covers most eventualities. It never, despite several near concussions, occurs to me to be careful of the shelf above the stove.

Oh...I have to go work....on da flip.....

OMG OMG OMG OMG....

I need...cherry fuckin bakewells.

CHERRY BAKEWELL!!!

They rock aye, but I have never actually needed one before. I can see this is going to be a long night of unquenched frangipane thirst....

I don't get it, I was minding my own business and BLAM! I had to have one. My only recourse is this....to steal mum's car and drive (illegally) to Tesco to obtain a packet of Mr Kiplings finest.

Not gonna happen is it?

*Wraps myself in a duvet and cries myself to sleep*

How much better is a morning when the sun is shining? Course it's not morning anymore, but I have nothing better to do than choose not to be useful and just appreciate the play of light on my bedroom ceiling as reflected by the river outside my window. What I'm doing is trying to find the silver lining...

I started to read a book this week, it's called Half of a Yellow Sun. It's about Nigeria before and during the civil war. It's a good book so far, but now I have fear, because there have been the first glimmers of the horror to come later. The kind of horror, I suspect, that will stay with me forever, words moulded into images I will never let go. Of course I cannot stop reading, I think I have a duty to know, to see even 3rd or 4th hand what people do to each other in the name of making a better world. Notice how, the better world these people try to create is only better for them?

I'm so lucky that hatred and violence has never touched my life directly, in fairness, I suspect most Myspazzers have never lived in a war zone. And I feel guilty in a way, because I am glad. I'm glad I never had to listen to bombs fall in the night, or cower in hidden corners as booted feet drew ever closer or watch as my family's and friend's and neighbour's bodies were piled into mass graves, the grotesque tangle of limbs the final glaring indignity. I sit in my safe little world and feel sad that these things happen, and that feeling is starkly exposed for the trite, weak thing that it is when the vivid explosion of violent conflict is thrust at you from the pages of a book with a serene cover and soft words that lull you into that same sense of peace and security you know those soon to be hacked to death people felt in the years and months and days before those monsters came to make their world better.

"They" tell us we are in a war, this War on Terror, but do we really know, can we ever suspect what terror really means? A vague unease that one day the extremely unlikely eventuality that some terribly misguided soul will bring fiery death to your town or city is not terror. We kid ourselves that we can empathise, some even believe they know how that life crushing oppression of the spirit really feels, but that's bollocks. We don't feel compelled to flee our homes, we don't bury the mutilated bodies of our children, we don't skulk along the streets braced for the impact of a sniper's bullet or dive for cover as the air is split by the deafening rattle of gunfire. There are no smoking craters where once there was a school, no endless queues for drinking water and handfuls of grain.  Our lives are peaceful and easy, they really are. We should thank whatever deity we believe in, or the accident of our providential birth that we never have to live that way, never have to really know what terror is. How unfair is it, that some get to have that peace, and others do not?

So yeah, I think I really ought to suffer the discomfort of this book, what's a little discomfort when compared with the alternative?

Hrmmm...

OK, just to start with, a mini rant.

What fucking point is there in just wholesale rejecting vast swathes of applications based on one fucking question and without ever bothering to find out if maybe, just fucking maybe, you are letting somebody who might actually give a shit about doing the job fall by the wayside.

It's all about fucking efficiancy isn't it? I can dig that, fucking cop out though. Tells ya that really, they don't give a flying fuck who they hire, that it's all about whether you can demonstrate an ability to smile inanely at people and chant a litany of upselling questions and Did you find everything you wanted to today madam?

It's not just them...at least they had the common decency to email me telling me how terribly sorry they are that I wasn't successful this time and wishing me, isn't that wonderful of them, wishing me every luck in the future. Bite me fuckers. Really though, responding to applications seems to be a thing of the past. It's very rare they let you know they think you are crap. Means they lack a bit of fucking politeness and consideration, but I guess, when they have all the power they don't think they have to be polite or considerate.

Slipknot. They have a way of aligning your thoughts and crystallising them into one perfect, flawless jewel of feeling......like now.....

JUST FUCK YOU ALL, YOU FUCKING FUCKERS.

I feel so much better.

Ya know...I fucking love jelly. I don't have jelly as often as I should. It's like this, I should have jelly every day, I actually have jelly um....never. It's so awesome though, brilliant hued wobbly goodness. I really like the way it glistens. Course it really needs to be strawberry flavoured, otherwise it's settling for a lesser jelly. That reminds me....Angel Delight. Angel Delight is awesome. It ticks all the same boxes as jelly, except for...not being glistening and wobbly. But, AD gets points for being ready much quicker than jelly.

I used to work in this place where we used jelly crystals not the boingy gelatin cubes. Nothing quite so odd as accidentally inhaling concentrated strawberry jelly powder. Every time you sneeze, which will be often, you think you have been eating fruit pastilles. Jelly crystals ming.

I was so brave last night. No, scratch that, I was stupid. I was getting a drink, was well after midnight, and an alarm started going off. Outside. I know our car isn't alarmed. Roger's might be, but I couldn't see any tell tale flashing indicators. And just why the hell would an alarm start going off in the night anyway? So I ventured out in the inky black, with just an almost flat battery torch to guide me. It was the mill alarm...I looked around, couldn't see anyone. As if, had there really been someone with thoughts of murder on their mind and a kitchen knife in their hand crouching in the undergrowth I would have been able to see them anyway. Then, the alarm just stopped. It's all very odd really. I like pointless stories.

Beakers people, beakers. How is this not good gossip?

I think the reason I get so pissed off about the job thing that I can't formulate adequate words to convey my displeasure is that being constantly knocked back for everything makes me feel so fucking useless. I know I can do pretty much anything I set my mind to, or at least, I used to know that with unshakeable certainty, and this makes me think no, I must be wrong, I must be literally good for nothing. I resent these faceless recruiters in their blandly decorated offices who shuffle quickly through stacks of applications, tossing out the majority without a thought to the people on the other side of the words. I resent them for making me feel miserable. They don't think outside the box, they see "chef" and think fuck that. Bastards.

Today, it feels like autumn. It's grey and cold and the rain is - OMFG Machine Head, Davidian, that takes me back. Krazy House, Saturday night, before they banned mosh pits, before metal music got so....I am loath to say gay, but.....lets settle for shite. *sigh* Good times.

I see what the problem is here....I haven't had coffee today. That was a rookie mistake....gosh ya...ya hate to see it.

I'm off to find solace in sugar laden caffiene highs.

So...hmm. I had a bit of a deep convo earlier, about um..coff...love and stuff. I dunno what is up with me today....guess I am ill or some shit. We got to talking about ya know...the shittier times of life.

Kinda made me think ya know. It's kind of easy to take another person for granted aye but, really, that's just so wrong. Like that's a revelation but....ya kinda need your heart aye, it's pretty integral to ur whole system, whether you be talking about the real thumpity thump one or that metaphorical fucker that causes so many problems. If you give that to someone, they have a responsibility, nay an obligation, to not damage it, cos if they do you're gonna die a little bit. We owe it to people to be gentle with their hearts aye, to treat them like we would treat our own.

Which kinda got me wondering about how you can do that, how you can know someone so completely that you would never damage them, that you would never even accidentally bash the edges of their hearts passing through life's narrow doorways, never lose your grip on them and drop them into puddles of muddy, murky despair. It's so much for someone to drop into your hands, that's like the scariest thing ever. Kinda like someone hands you their new born baby and even though you know you are gonna be careful and hold onto them as tightly as is safe, you can't help but have that niggling terror that you might drop them, that your hands will fail you or some outside force nudge you.

I think what you need is to believe totally in yourself, in your own strength to hold on. You need to believe that your own heart will kind of guide you when your head lets you down. I think sometimes hearts are smarter than brains....they know shit just because, they hold all of your faith.I wonder if loving someone, or letting them love you is kind of really a leap of faith. Brains make obstacles, they struggle down the most overgrown pathways and fight against everything. Hearts just seem to know the way....like they have a map of life or destiny or fate or whatever bullshit you want to call it. Maybe they just talk to others in clearer language, get to the centre of shit without words clogging things up. Cos words always have more than one meaning, and believe me your brain will find them all.

Geez, for real...I dunno what is up with me aye...

....while you ponder my utter bollocks of a blog, a piece of advice.....when cleaning industrial grade deep fat fryers, always know the location of the titwank with the bottle of oven cleaner. And glue the waistband of your pants to your skin. Trust me on this, if nothing else.

Ya know what you should never do? You should never, by a process of logical steps in researching something, work your way to the DSM IV classification thingummy of mental disorders. Trust me on this, don't do it or you will find yourself to be a sufferer of several minor and probably a few major disorders and psychoses.

Hi, my name's Anna, I'm a sociopath =0)

LOL, for real, funny isn't it how we read the symptoms of things and then we can convince ourselves that we have an illness...I really believe that it's a terrible idea to go on the internet to research diseases, or look for the cause of a symptom you might have. Somehow, even if it's a completely innocuous thing, you end up thinking you have Ebola and will very soon start bleeding from the eyes.

I dreamt once that I bled from my eyes. Seriously, it might well be the single most unpleasant dream I have ever had. The worst thing was, it was one of those very lifelike dreams you have just before waking, and I was dreaming I had got up for work and was going through my normal getting ready for work routines. I was "brushing my teeth" and realised my hands were bleeding...just generally bleeding from everywhere...then blood was coming from my mouth then my nose....I looked up into the mirror...and blood filled my eyes then spilled in crimson tears down my face. I woke up....thankfully lol....in a proper panic. It was horrible, the taste of the dream kept coming back to me through the day...minty iron...uck.

A certain nameless, evil (lol) somebody has got me hooked on an extremely childish internet based game. I can't believe it frankly, I'm terribly upset with myself. Thing I notice though, is how so many sites these days are incorporating an element of social networking into their structure. It's become so popular, something that used to be a stronghold of the nerdy has become mainstream. And it happened so sneakily, one day internet afficionadoes were fairly few and far between, now anyone who is anyone has a myspace or facebook account. I wonder how it became socially acceptable? I can't see it as a fad...just a symptom of our shrinking planet...

*yawn* I'm tired. I've actually slept not too badly for 2 days lol....woot...progress. Dunno, somehow the internal strife has calmed somewhat and let me rest...fuckin stress is a twat. Fuckin Americans can't say twat properly LOL. How can you possibly rhyme it with hot? It sounds so silly...blah

Well...I'd like to go on but really...I have things to do...

Blah, this insomnia bullshit is becoming wearing. Almost the worst thing is the bone aching boredom of it all. Eventually there comes a time when there is no one around to talk to and there are no websites left to peruse and the TV becomes all news on a loop or mind numbing quiz shows hosted by Barbie and Ken clones with limited vocabulary and even more limited brain power. When you have watched every dvd at least 3 times and to read requires a stillness and concentration your over clocked brain cannot cope with.

Nothing, I mean nothing, has the power to tire me out enough that I sleep. Nothing has the power to shut the lid of the Pandoras box of thoughts that spews forth crap like a coke bottle with a mentoe in it. Heheh, that's funny though.

Ever wonder who discovered that? Ever wonder who discovered lots of random things? And why is it, that sometimes, the words on the screen cannot keep up with my typing, I mean ffs, I'm not throwing out 200 words a minute here, I am barely out of the hunt and peck stage.

*yawn* What to do, what to do....I'm writing this but really I can't be arsed. No really...I can't. Fuck this...

What would everything taste like if we hadn't ever tasted chicken??

Heard an interesting thing today about a certain species of Acacia. Apparently, it is beloved of giraffes who just happen to be the only thing tall enough to eat it. Thing is, the acacias find being munched upon by itinerant lanky mammals to be a bit of an inconvinience, one which could in fact result in the end of the acacia upon which the fuckers are snacking. But this is no ordinary acacia. This is Acacia Extreme. Not content with succumbing to it's fate, this tree fights back.

This bastion of evolutionary wonder has an impressive defence mechanism. When the giraffes start to munch on the tree, it secretes a hormone that is toxic to the giraffes. But it doesn't stop there. Somehow, other trees in the area recognise this distress signal and hurry to secrete their own arsenal of giraffe sickening chemical. So when giraffe eats it...giraffe finds itself pretty bloody sorry. And stops. Now that, is fucking spectacular. Trees, nature's secret ninja fighters.

So like, I lost my ability to think in a linear way. Or in fact, in a way that I am able to recognise any structure in at all. No wait, I can still think, it's reasoning I have managed to corrupt.

Did you see those nutty Calabrian Mafiosi killing each other over a thrown egg. A bastard egg. Of all the fucking things to end a life over. You just know they try and justify it to themselves, it's not an egg, it's a principle. Sorry, corrupt just triggered  that thought. When I was a kid, everyone thought my Dad must be in the Mafia cos we are Sicilian, he would further fuel that misconception by insisting on sitting with his back to the wall in case a gunman came in a la "insert generic Mafia movie here". I've thrown eggs at people. I never knew the knife edge I have been walking on.

I swear I just heard the line "Lucifer, son of the morning". I have to investigate what the song is.....apparently, it's "Chase the Devil" by Max  Romeo.  It's about kicking Satan's ass. Reggae....I love to hear it but the words enbafflerate me.  I know, I know, I made it up, because I can. It's my fucking blog.

I've never read the whole Bible, just little bits of it here and there, but I was thinking I might. I'm intrigued. I'd like to know what all the fuss is about, what the fuck makes people so damned fanatical. Also, if I do that then I can quote Scripture at people who quote it at me heheh. I love how people use the words of their benevolent God as a weapon. I don't think they realise that when they do it they kind of prove my point. I used to have a point, now I don't actually care and I just disagree with them for fun.

I think stupid ideas like that one come about when I have way too much time on my hands. I also considered taking up regular exercise but I stopped myself before I went too far.

I walked away from 2, count them TWO, magnificent opportunities for an argument this past week. Both involved the same fat-fuck-cock-munching piece of shit who was just begging for a detailed explanation on just why he is the biggest cunt in Holywell. Somehow, distressingly, I turned and walked away. I used the cunt word...sorry. If we had rafters...I would hang myself from them.

Who the fuck am I kidding.... cunt cunt cunt cunt If you don't like it fuck off.

I'm still wondering who decides what's a swear word. Is there like a dude with a special hat who sits at a high desk surrounded by scrolls and parchments and huge, dusty grimoires, scratching away with a quill pen, occasionally coughing dryly and blinking furiously behind the circular lenses of his frameless spectacles, turning his face away if ever the door to his sanctum is opened to admit a scurrying flunky and unwelcome shafts of murky sunlight? It would be cool if that was it.

It's the same with who decides what is offensive. Who does decide? I mean, ok, take racism, most people agree that it is offensive, in many places it is outlawed. But who decides that? Is it a majority decision? It's not entirely arbitrary I can see that. But I know a lot of people who see nothing wrong in it. Let's look at extremes.

SHIIIIIIT....

Damn I have to do something else....I will continue this thought anon, if my brain retains it.

=========================

Continuing anon then.....

I have lost the will to continue with the whole offensiveness thing. I don't care who decides. Let them eat shit.

Hrmm, it's very smoky outside. I am trying to decide if there is actually an out of control fire or the Log Man is burning stuff. Shit...I have to investigate...

*cough cough*

It's the Log Man.

Ahhhh shit, ten year anniversary of Diana's death. Fucking hell, let it rest. There have been shows on every channel. Conspiracies, her last days, dissecting and going over it again and again...in the newspaper, on TV, on the radio. It should stop. I don't understand the way she hes been almost deified since her admittedly tragic death. It's become a sin to bad mouth her, but I have trouble reconciling the image of her that is portrayed nowadays with the reality of the woman. The reality of the way she was perceived before her death. The reality of who she was. It's like the re-writing of history and it's there for us all to see. It would be churlish to deny the good things she did, she worked hard for charity aye, but she wasn't a fucking saint, she was just a compassionate person who had the enviable position of being able to do something about the injustices she saw. Fuck it....

Lou Reed..Take A Walk On The Wild Side....holy cackaroni, what a class tune. It's the Do de do de doo do bit I like the best.

My fucking typing has gone to shit lately...I'm going to stop before it bothers me any more that I can't spell and I keep sticking in unnecessary apostrophes.