Did you miss me?

Sometimes you don't know what you've been missing until you're in the middle of it.

Tonight I caught up with a lot of very good friends. Many of us apologised to everyone for 'being antisocial lately.' It happens so easily sometimes, doesn't it; you're busy for a bit, or fancy some alone time, and the next thing you know you haven't seen some of your favourite people for months.

I've been very lonely and I don't think I saw a way out of that until tonight.

A couple of weeks ago I went home to visit my family. We did the usual Cowes Week things - beach barbecue, fireworks, catching up with my oldest friends - while thinking about how it might be very different next year. Dad's retiring, so a lot of things might have changed when I next go back.

One moment stands out though: it was so wonderful to swim in the sea again. It was the first time I've been swimming since... maybe over a year ago? Could be two. A long time. As I squeaked about the cold and inched my way deeper in, my sister said the sea had missed me, that it had been waiting for me to come back.

The thing that surprised me, both tonight and back on the island, was being reminded that there are other people who think like me. Whether it's my friend Zaru encouraging me to perform my poetry soon, or my brother Michael chatting to me about quantum physics, it's been a blessed relief to be around people who are interested in things that interest me. I don't get that at work.

I work with good people, kind people, but I don't have much common ground with them. I know nothing about football or reality TV, and am too scared to go digging for something real to talk about. So I've felt alienated. At first I thought they were a bit weird, but in the absence of anyone with whom to talk about that, the thought gradually became "I am completely abnormal."

Well, normal is all in the context. These people, my family and friends, are the context in which I make sense. They are my normal. They are my home.

Birthdings

I was not going to celebrate my birthday. I was playing it cool. I always do, at first. It's a lowering of my own expectations, really, because I'm never convinced that anyone else is going to remember.

I promise this post gets less wallowy. Bear with me.

har! har!

Having a birthday in October, for a kid who grew up as bookish and introverted as I did, meant that people at school often hadn't had time to get to know me when my birthday rolled around. September kids probably have it even worse.

In my first year at uni, my first birthday away from home, I quietly mentioned my birthday to the three people I knew by name; and I got a surprised "Ah! Really? Happy birthday! ... So are you doing anything for it?" to which I answered No, no. Not really.

So, nothing happened.

It's my own fault; I'm bad at making things happen. For my 18th birthday, my friends demanded that we go to Pizza Hut at least, because I wasn't planning to do anything at all.

Since coming to Cardiff, though, things have picked up speed. I'm not the wallflower I once was, and I'm lucky enough to have friends who'll grab hold of the most tenuous excuses imaginable for a fancy-dress shindig. I love them, I love them (fancy-dress shindigs AND my friends; but I mostly meant my friends. I would not trade the wonderful, talented, gorgeous people in my life for anything, not even a kawasaki ninja, and LOOK how frakkin' pretty they are:

Are we still parentheses? We are. Sorry).

Yesterday, despite being in work all day, I was remembered by a great many people. As soon as midnight hit, Sean Solle got the first HBD greeting in, and the following 24 hours saw a whole bunch of people on twitter and facebook and even tumblr wishing me a merry one. Some of them barely know me, or were reminded by facebook, but every single one made me smile and feel valued. That kind of positivity really adds up over the course of a day!

And, to top it all, the very kind family I live with (whose generosity I can't begin to deserve) bought me a book on Graffiti - one I don't already own! It looks great, the pictures are grouped by area rather than by artist which is so cool bec- er, anyway - and a birthday cake.

And AND, the people I'm training with at work bought me cards and chocolates because they are insanely lovely. INSANELY. Get this: the lady who trained me for the first two weeks remembered that my short story has been published by the UK Zombie Defence League, looked the UKZDL up, found my blog along the way, discovered that Lindt Lindor are my favourite chocolates, got me some, and made me promise not to share them.

SERIOUSLY.

like -

I can't even -

That's lovely on a scale I never expected to encounter in a work environment. Dilbert did not prepare me for this. How are you supposed to respond? Anywhere else I'd have given her the biggest bearhug on record, because seriously, that's above and beyond the contractually-obliged Happy Birthday, but instead I just rambled and thanked for a bit and grinned my way throughout training for the rest of the day.

Also, a girl I met on a bus and befriended the heck out of lent me the first Harry Dresden book, so I've got that going for me too.

Just - keep up the good work, universe. This is all very very adequate.

Silver linings

Today has been... not great.

It started off badly because I dreamed of my ex with his new lady, which I readily confess is my fault for rereading old emails yesterday. He was describing what he imagined our daughter would look like. I know, why not just stab myself in the face, right? It's like I have no comprehension of consequences.

Then I read Kim Rhodes' most recent blog entry. Let me tell you, I love this lady, and not just for being in Supernatural - she's funny, charming, ludicrously down-to-earth and does not deserve even half the shit that's been thrown her way. I haven't commented on this post. I really am at a loss for words. None of the standard platitudes really seem to apply in this case, but on the off-chance that she ever sees this: Kim, you're an inspiration; write whatever you need to and I'll be reading.

Since then it's been a blur of packing for storage, getting threatening letters and bemusing visits from our landlord. Did I tell you our basement flooded? Probably not, it happened just after the rant about the door went up.

Luckily I've got dozens of little silver linings in my friends, without whom I really would have thrown in the towel by now.

They cheer me up, look out for me, offer me places to stay. They make cups of tea and offer words of wisdom on twitter. They link me to footage of lizards and websites about cats to cheer me up. I also found this gorgeous playlist (Spotify link) by an old friend that has been slowing my heartrate down a little.

So to all my silver linings (and, if you're reading this, chances are you're one): Thank you. I love you.

Scrapes and japes

Last night, I was dragged out by my very loving friends. Knowing that I've recently made a decision that, while necessary, also completely sucks, they insisted on my company. Tiff made me pinky-swear, guys; it was that serious. We ventured into town for drinking and dancing, and I proceeded to have the most accident-prone night of my life.

Anna's list of minor wounds

1. Index finger: paper cuts, two. No idea how they happened, although I suspect my recent nail-biting is the culprit. Stung like crazy.
2. Knees: scraped. I fell over on the way into town (still completely sober!), and despite my leggings, took a layer of skin off. Standing up / sitting down hurts.
3. Hands: saved from my clumsiness by my unusual decision to wear fingerless gloves into town.
4. Face: elbowed by a 6'6" madman skanking at full speed. He apologised. Nose not broken.
5. Arm: bruised by being hugged into a wall by aforementioned madman. Hurts a lot but isn't visible, which is the worst kind of bruise as you don't even get kudos.

Tiff used her nursing experience to field-dress my knees with tissue paper from the ladies'. That's not so unusual for me; a few months ago I treated a pretty deep wound at a house party with makeup pads and sellotape because nobody there owned plasters. I still have an interesting purple mark on my knee from that one.

That was the first time I've been out dancing in quite a long time, and I went for it wholeheartedly, inhibitions significantly lowered by a couple of rum and cokes and the smoke machine that obscured my flailing completely. The people I went with were absolutely lovely; I got talking to someone about graffiti; he's hopefully going to email me some of his art for me to have uninformed opinions about.

Various people pulled / passed out / puked, ultimately returning to our house and crashing. It's quite nice, at times, to come downstairs to a living room full of people who are still drunk / barely conscious / insistent on us all returning to their house for "mystery hot chocolate."

It was very mysterious.

   I kind of ache all over.

      Still, at least it took my mind off -
       - oh man... this sucks.

please excuse me while I kiss this guy

Pissed the hell off. Not everybody likes reading rants, especially not ones that could be construed as gossiping / bitching (though I really really try to stay away from those), so if you're playing it safe just skip ahead to the kitty buffer. ↓↓↓

I've been with my boyfriend for three months now. He (let's call him M) lives with his ex*, and my friends and I used to go over to their house for gaming weekends, before he and I got together. I haven't been welcome there recently, at his ex's request.** That doesn't bother me too much.

But what happened tonight? Really does. I'll try to explain...

M works all week and sees me on the weekends, so when he turned up unexpectedly an hour or so ago, I was surprised but pleased to see him! My housemate / friend D had just ordered us pizza, so it looked like it was going to be a fun evening in. Which would be lovely, since my other housemates were going out, and I didn't want to be alone tonight.

Boy did I misread the situation.

What was actually planned was for M, his ex, and D to go bowling together. That happens sometimes. I used to go with them, but these days it's just 'understood' that I won't because that would be too awkward, apparently.***

And if M had told me before showing up "Look, this is what's going to happen, I won't be able to stay longer than five minutes," that would have been fine. I could have prepared for that. If D had said in advance "I'm ordering pizza but I'm going out with M, so please save me some," that would have been fine too. It would have been okay. Not great, still, but okay. But to have what felt like a nice surprise U-turn into another 'you're not invited' event, well, fuck that.

I normally try to squish whatever feelings I have about this, because it sucks for everyone involved, not just me, but if I don't tell them how it feels to be sat at home alone again after that fucking directorial mislead, then it'll just keep happening. And please bear in mind that I'm aware how childish it sounds to wail about unfairness, but if she doesn't want to hang out with me, maybe she just shouldn't come. And maybe my boyfriend and friend shouldn't aid her baseless social exclusion.

* Which is fine. Unconventional, but fine.
** Also fine. I completely understand. It's her house, she should only have to endure the company of people she likes.
*** Not for me, I should clarify: for her. I'll hang out with whoever.

Okay! Kitty buffer!

I cannot stress enough how amazing this video is. It's like Daft Bodies crossed with Tron.

Flipping

Gah, I keep trying to think of fun subjects to blog about. It's not like my past week or so has been uneventful, by any stretch of the imagination!

First of all, my dad had a heart attack last week. He's ok, I think - the clever doctor people have put a stent in his heart, which is a cool wire mesh thing to keep an artery open. Hopefully that's sorted him out, so although he's tired he's hopefully be okay.

In other news, Fat Tony came to stay! It was so awesome. He was only here for one night unfortunately, but we crammed in some youtube, Mario Kart, Community, Archer, Wall-E, pancakes and socialising. I call that a success.

No silly pictures this time around, tragically, but I'll leave you with this.



I genuinely don't know what to make of it. It's so unabashedly cheesy that I find myself quite warming to it, and I think it's by far Alex Day's boldest and best endeavour yet.

Festivities

The buildup to Christmas is a long one. Even at the start of December, I was celebrating Not-Christmas at a friend's house. I got a full stomach and a stocking full of chocolate to remember it by, not to mention a pretty severe crush.

After that, I went home for a couple of weeks, which was as it usually is, i.e., lovely with regards to seeing my family, and fairly horrendous in terms of staying in that house. I live in hope that one day my parents will see sense and chuck out 90% of their stuff.

I've felt very guilty about presents this year. The sad fact is, this year I don't have enough money to cover rent and bills, or even food for myself, so I can't treat everyone to the nice things they deserve. But, for some reason, people care enough to give me things, because it isn't really about reciprocity, so I'm told. They love me and want me to know that, so they give me gifts.

Oh man, let me tell you, this year for the first time I got a gift from someone I've never met! Someone in America! Paul, a guy I've known for probably a couple of years now, sent me the most epic, tricked-out, bells-and-whistles sonic screwdriver set I've ever seen. It's got me thinking about designing my own Doctor look to cosplay! Most people seem to go for a female interpretation of an existing Doctor's costume, but I'd want to start from scratch. My first instinct was to see if anyone from the Doctor Who costume department is on twitter, but no such luck.

This is going to be my first Christmas with friends. I've spent one away from home before, with my ex's family, but I've never dealt with the full mixed bag of celebrating Christmas with vegans, pagans, and people who've lost loved ones / are missing their kids, etc. But we're doing it. I'm a little bit proud of us for that. If we can get through it without drama, I'll be even more so.

I'll also be spending the day with my aforementioned crush (a poor word choice, but anything more accurate would give too much away, and it's early days yet). I wouldn't mention it unless I thought it was going to be important. Unless I thought he was going to be important. We'll see, I guess.

Anyway! I've wittered on long enough. I'll let you get back to all that important hall-decking. If I don't post again beforehand, have a very merry one indeed! See you soon for the traditional New Year navel-gazing.

A vastly superior day

Yesterday was a day of wonderful things.

I wandered around the grass expanse of Bute park, toes clenching and relaxing in the lush grass, treading happily on loose dirt, or my outstretched legs splashing shallow in the river. The barbecue smoke washed through my hair, which I don't mind at all - for the rest of the day, every turn of my head would remind me of it - and the music flowed from the macbook.

Haha, yes. I was getting back to nature in true filthy-footed hippie style, and my cute, skinny, indie-boy friend was playing music on his macbook. I have more cute, skinny, indie-boy friends now than at any previous point in my life. They sure know how to make me feel flabby and uninteresting (on my worse days. Today, I felt nothing but enjoyment of their company. Take that, insecurities!).

The food was great, the company was wonderful, the music, and the grass the grass the grass - my feet were filthy by the time I'd stopped wandering around. Honestly, get one cider in me and I'm so much happier! I even clambered about on the stones in the stone circle grinning happily to myself. I do love Bute Park.

These photos of the park weren't taken yesterday, but they're mine and I like them. So there.

And then, and then, a poetry event! Word4word in the yurt at Milgi. There were bad poets and good poets, a couple of stunningly funny monologues, Leeum doing his thing (that makes me feel like I've been set on fire with language), and one poet who made me take an intensely strong and personal dislike to him. Words have power, kids: they can make me decide you're a dick.

They can also leave me with a burning desire to write. I'm glad I took a notebook with me. It may look pretentious, sitting among poets and scribbling down poetry, but the ideas come thick and fast at those events and they never stay put for long.

To everyone who's comforted or checked up on me since the last blog post: thanks for caring. You really don't need to worry, though. Very soon after writing that emofest, I saw a song by Goldfish that made me dream that I'd decided to stop wallowing and get on with shit. So get on with shit I shall!

Recap

I really have been neglecting you, haven't I. I'm very sorry about that. I think it's because my life is full of people now, so I rarely feel the need to reach out to the internet.

It all changed rather abruptly; I moved in with a friend from uni and his housemates, and suddenly it was as if I'd pushed off downhill in a shopping trolley. Sometimes the road steepens and sometimes it levels out, sometimes the road is especially bumpy, but I love the ride. And extended metaphors.

There's a lot of things I can't write about for privacy reasons. This blog is connected to my real identity and pseudonyms wouldn't protect the anonymity of anyone who knows me and my my friends, so to a certain extent I've had to curtail my desire to write about my experiences.

Let's see, what shape is my life right now...
I work in retail, in a job with great customers. It doesn't earn me much because it's only around two shifts a week. I'm also working as a volunteer for a Cardiff-based publishing company! I've mentioned that, I'm sure, but it's great and exciting and scary and stressful all at once.
Every week we have Drunken Sunday, where loads of our friends come over and we talk, drink, laugh and generally make merry. Drunkenness entirely optional, of course. Sometimes I'm in the middle of everything, flirting outrageously and loving the attention, and sometimes I sit in the corner and just smile because I feel so lucky to be there.

I am, you know. Very lucky. My friends are passionate, interesting, talented people, and easy on the eye to boot! Truth be told, sometimes I feel unworthy. The ol' self-esteem is kind of at an ebb right now. So it goes. I've gained a bit of weight over the past year due to not cycling any more (some helpful person put Ben's 5-digit lock on my bike, so it needs some trial-and-error codebreaking and an awful lot of TLC before I take it back out on the road). It shouldn't matter, and it's not like I think I'm ugly, but every time I see my body I'm disappointed and low. Such a shame. With a bit more confidence, I'd be having a lot more fun!

I am having fun though. Trying new things, going on adventures... On Monday morning (after two hours' sleep and a Drunken Sunday), I went up Garth mountain with my friends. Admittedly I was, er, bringing up the rear - as I say, I'm not in great shape at the best of times - but I made it up eventually and thoroughly enjoyed the whole day. And the night was just magical. It's rare to feel that close to a group of people.

I hope you're all well, and again, I'm sorry for the rather lacklustre attempts at blogging lately. You deserve better. I'll try to up my game!

Love,
A x

a barbecue and a waterfight

"More or less exactly" is an oxymoron that I find myself using lately. As in, I've been single for more or less exactly a year. I can't be sure of the date because I didn't blog about it at the time, and without the internet to serve as my external memory I'm more lost than a puppy filling out a tax return.

I was seriously thinking about writing a "how I feel about stuff and things" post, but to be honest I don't have anything interesting to say about the subject. I lost my faith, and that was the only dealbreaker. Fin. So instead I want to share some awesome stuff I've been doing!

Two nights ago some friends and I had a beach BBQ. It was honestly the loveliest sunset I've seen in a very long time. Here are some pictures of that:








And then yesterday we had an epic waterfight, of which there are no photos, because I was too busy watergunning fools (and getting cups of water thrown over me because Aston's a dirty cheater.)

This but with guns and laughing

I'm really looking forward to seeing my family in a couple of weeks; we're going on a sort of road trip holiday thing so that'll be cool.

Much love to y'all!

Wandering away from the wreckage, whistling

Oops.

It turns out I have a remarkable talent for saying exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time. It's happened before, sure, but never quite this spectacularly...

One of my housemates (T) has been increasingly difficult to live with lately. Yesterday she stormed in, once again demanded to know "Who's going to do the washing up, then?" (There was hardly anything there, and it had been there a couple of hours at most) and I said "We thought we'd all hold hands and close our eyes and maybe it would do itself." Well. I'm sure you're all thinking the exact same thing I am: "That was very silly, Anna." Yes. Yes it was.

She yelled at me - she yelled at all of us - and I instantly felt guilty. So I went into the kitchen to apologise, but she just wasn't having it. Someone else decided to have a "house discussion" in the hope of airing some of our grudges in a sensible, mature fashion - but T wasn't having that either. Then, the shouting.

I have never heard my housemates so angry, and they're all pretty fiery. Not being great with confrontation, I just sat on the sofa hiding my face and crying while they yelled and stormed and slammed doors and threatened to move out.

Luckily, when everyone had left and I was still shaking and crying on the sofa (what can I say, I'm kind of a wuss), Arthur came in and gave me a hug and talked to me about stuff. That kept me sane. Then, when Ali came downstairs, clearly shocked and upset at what she'd overheard, he did the same for her.

I would have forgiven her, you know. I would. But T has a way of talking herself out of forgiveness. Have you ever heard of a nonpology? In this case, it took the form of "I'm sorry I shouted, I shouldn't have, but you guys REALLY need to start showing more respect and pulling your weight and I won't stand for being treated this way" - with no gap in the interim for me to say a) All is forgiven or b) Kindly attempt cranio-rectal insertion.

I could not be more relieved that I'm going home tomorrow. Sweet, undramatic Isle of Wight - you're always there for me. Happy Christmas, dramahouse.

Today's interesting thing is the BBC interview with Jody McIntyre, the guy I mentioned in this post.

Making it verse

I'm hammering a poem into shape.

Last month, my university started a creative writing open mic night. I performed, and I'm going to say here what I haven't had the courage to say elsewhere: I'm actually really disappointed with how I did.

I hadn't known in advance that it was going to be competitive; I don't think many people did. I've never been a particularly competitive person, but once I knew that's how things were, I accepted it. I've been writing poetry since I was 14 or so, and I thought they were pretty good. What I hadn't thought about, however, is the huge difference between the verse you find in poetry collections, and the incredible passion and power of spoken word poetry.

I didn't expect to win, not once I'd seen Leeum perform. It was obvious to all of us, I think, that he is incredibly experienced at this; an extremely talented performance poet. From the beginning, when he spoke of "the rocks He told me not to throw," I was alert and listening more attentively than in any lecture. Anyway, my writer-crush aside, I didn't expect to win after that.

What sucked, and again this isn't something I'd happily talk about in person, is that I failed to come in the top four. Ben did. Ben, my housemate, came fourth with a poem I had helped him refine. It's a good poem, but Ben's a novelist now and poetry - well, poetry was always my thing. I was jealous. And disappointed. And when he confided in me, on leaving the cafeteria where the event took place, that he was disappointed he hadn't placed higher, I selfishly replied "Shut up, Ben. I can just about pretend that I don't mind not placing, but you have to pretend too." I'm not proud of this side of myself. Lately his success has been highlighting my insecurities, and through no fault of his own I've become a little bitter.

Since then, I've been working on one poem. Just one. Ordinarily I'd write two or three a day in one of my creative phases, but I'm trying so hard to get this one just right that I keep coming back to it and chiselling, refining, reshaping  and rewording it. And next time - on the 25th of November - Leeum's going to be compering, not competing, and I'll hopefully be in with a chance. And Ben - well, if I'm not better than him at something, I'm going to cut his dreads off while he sleeps.

(Just kidding. I would never do that.)

(Probably.)

I've been compiling this youtube playlist of my favourite spoken poems. By all means check it out! You might be surprised.

Silly girl

Shortly before my seventeenth birthday, I went on a week-long camping trip with YFC (the charity I ended up doing a gap year with). I met hundreds of new people; Christians, my age, and they were wonderful and exciting. A new chapter of my life started that week.

Part of that chapter (a not inconsequential part) was my discovery of hugs. On the last night, after a waterfight and a bedtime story (a Mister Men book, though I forget which one), I ended up in the arms of a young man called Matthew. I'd never met him before that week - odd, considering the vast crossover between any two lives on the Isle of Wight. We cuddled into the early hours, just stood up in the middle of the campsite enjoying holding each other. At an age when many of my peers had lost the big V, I was still astonished that anyone would willingly touch me. Yes, my self-esteem was that low. I found a spot on the back of his neck that made him shiver, and for me that was a breakthrough - the beginning of the realisation that I, too, could be desirable.

I remember him telling me then that this didn't mean anything special, and that some girls got the wrong idea.

"I think I can manage not to fall for you," I said, possibly raising one eyebrow sardonically in what turned out to be utterly misplaced confidence. It took me a good two years to get over him properly; two years wasted obsessing over a guy I could never really have been happy with. Eventually, I met Gavin and realised that stupid unrequited crushes are best left in high school.

All that was over six years ago now, and a lot can change in six years. I grew up. I  left high school, did my gap year, found myself, lost myself, moved away from home, started university, found love, had a three-year relationship, moved to Cardiff, made new friends... and yet...

"You know I'm no good, right?"

"Yeah. You can join the rest of the world on that one."

I have learned exactly nothing. History, it seems, is doomed to repeat itself. I am a moron.

Emo is a verb now

In a bit of an odd mood, if I'm honest. After a pretty awesome and sociable day, I seem to have plunged into the post-midnight blues. I was having fun with my friends, talking and eating and watching silly videos on youtube, when I realised that whatever it is I'm looking for wasn't in the room.

Once you've realised that, trying to be funny or score hugs off people seems a bit irrelevant, really; so instead I just emoed off home and now here I am.

By myself.

In my room.

Still not entirely sure what I was looking for in the first place.

Ducks, rabbits, and ukuleles.

I have a new ukulele!

Yesterday was good, if a little odd. I met up with my ex for sushi, and we went for a bit of a wander around the lake. It was beautifully sunny, with a touch of fog in the distance, and I took a second to count my blessings as we ate ice-creams and laughed at the ducks wearing dog masks.

(Nightmare warning: this is why they wear dog masks.)

Back at my house, I finally introduced him to Colin the Rabbit, who had a very happy half hour wandering around the garden before utterly refusing to return to his hutch. If you've ever wanted to know what complete loss of dignity looks like, I imagine it's me running around a small paved garden after a bunny who is outwitting me at every turn.

Later on, after a brief pubwards excursion with the girls I live with, we met up with a mutual friend who mentioned he was selling a ukulele. Now, the uke I've been learning on since my birthday last year is pretty much the cheapest model you can get - a red mahalo soprano - and I've been intending for a while to upgrade if I stuck with it (which I have). So, far be it from me to pass up on such a serendipitous happenstance just because I really, really shouldn't be spending money right now. The new uke is BEAUTIFUL. I'm not sure if it's a soprano or a concert; I suspect the latter but the guy I bought it from didn't know anything about ukuleles. Like, anything at all. It was tuned wrong.

Some friends came over and we sat in the garden. I could see the stars. I love that about our garden; I didn't expect to see stars in the city like this, but there they are, whenever the sky's clear. After disappearing inside the house to play with my new instrument a couple of times, my lovely friends and housemates badgered me into performing for them, which I duly did. Long story short: I have to play at an open mic night in two weeks. Aaaaah *flail!*

I apologise for the lack of updates recently; this particular post was prompted by the lovely SufficeBlog.

The peasants are revolting!

Today, in Cardiff, there is an awful lot of protesting going on. The Welsh Defense League are protesting against Muslims, and Unite Against Fascism are protesting against the WDL. Taxi drivers are considering striking over the whole situation, possibly because they feel left out.

I was sat in the park reading my book, and I phoned my friend Ben to see if he was free. He wasn't. He was at "Well, sort of a riot I suppose" - said in the surprised tones of one who never expected to find himself at a riot, today of all days. I was not surprised. Ben has Political Opinions, and isn't afraid of voicing them. "The Nazis are in town," he continued, "and we don't like them." Well, quite.

I wished him luck, and went back to reading my book. Not because I don't care, you understand; I do, very much. In fact that's precisely why I wasn't there. You see, while other protesters may feel free to shout and throw things, I wouldn't. I'd be very quiet and polite about it all. In many ways, I concluded, that would be worse than not showing up at all. So I didn't.

So instead, I'm going to read up on the history of the two groups, go through the news coverage of the event, and formulate an opinion. One silly little opinion among thousands, of course, but mine nevertheless. I already know where I stand on the big issues (hint: racism is bad, mmkay?) but it doesn't hurt to do your research.

I love that Cardiff is full of people who care about these things. In fact, for the past couple of months the political graffiti artists have been out in force. Rather than the usual type of graf that gets hidden away in alleys and corners, this stuff is springing up alongside main roads; usually stencilled (quick and neat) or scrawled (angry red pen). Some of it's been up for a couple of months, but I've only just got around to sharing them, because... uh... I'm quite crap.

Loads of these are around; they were pre-election.

Also a few months old, quite poetic

Brand new, and accompanied by lots of anger and swearing. Worthy of inclusion for referencing 1984, which I only read the other week.

Similar style to "let hope rage", but different lettering.

Referring to the shops? The city?

Ending on a positive note. I know this graffiti artist has been in Cardiff for some time, but I can't quite place his characters.

No spoilers: LOST

There will be reviews of the finale springing up all over the internet in the coming days. They will range from "It was AWFUL" to "it was AWESOME," but that's not what I want to cover here. I want to talk about the part it's played in my life.

One of the main reasons I'm sorry to see Lost go is that it has served as a very effective, if transparent, excuse for hanging out with people I like for many years now. My family got me into it, having decided after the first three episodes that they liked it. I'm sure that, for them, the novelty wore off several seasons ago; and perhaps I'd have lost interest too, if it weren't for Stephen.

Stephen Wills is my honorary big brother. I've known him for my whole life, and craved his approval for about as long; in fact I'd say he was pretty instrumental in inspiring my lifelong love of geeks. I knew him when he was a blond-haired little boy playing with marbles, when he discovered Sonic the Hedgehog, when he was learning to drum and getting girlfriends... I'm a couple of years younger than him, so there was quite a while when we didn't really talk, but then we found out we had Lost in common. For a couple of seasons, my brother and sister and I would go to his flat to watch it with him. Then when he moved back to Newport, and I started doing my gap year work there, I'd watch it alone with him (and believe me, if I'd known how to hit on guys when I was 19, I would have done).

I grew up and moved away, although possibly not in that order; first to Plymouth, where I was alone, and then to Cardiff. In Cardiff I met Dan X. I picked up more or less where I'd left off with Stephen; going round to see him on a weekly basis and watching the latest episode. That's continued, sometimes with more people and sometimes not, right up until tonight. It's one of the things that helped me get to know a few people in Cardiff, so I guess it's one of the reasons this feels like home now.

This obsession has fuelled many discussions with my friends, ranging from vapid soap-opera style drama conversations through to philosophy and metaphysics. I'm helping to indoctrinate my friend Ben into the world of Lost, through which he's getting to know Dan as well. It's good to know that it's still doing that.

So I suppose it's time I found something new to obsess over. Any suggestions?

Kawaii LOST - Hurley and Smokey, originally uploaded by Jerrod Maruyama.

Reasons to be cheerless

Well! Well, I'm sick of hinting obliquely at vague 'drama' and not actually telling you, dear reader, what's got me in such a huff. If you prefer positive Anna, it's very possible that this post won't tickle your happy button; however in the interest of maintaining emotional equilibrium (i.e. not being a total morbid bitch), I'll intersperse my whinging with pictures like this:

Non-threatening businessman LIKES this!

On monday, my group was supposed to gather for a uni project and I was the only poor sod who turned up. As I have already said, this irritated me. Only mildly, but enough.

Thanks, The Elderly!

Then there was Tuesday, when I seriously called into question my ability to be a writer. I really started doubting whether I have the talent or skill to  do it.
I think that's the day we had an Emergency House Meeting about the cleaning as well (fun!). Furthermore, my friend from our university course gave me the breakdown of the social dynamics in our university course and made me hate myself a little more.

That's the spirit!

On Wednesday, our project was due in. I think we all felt that we could have done a lot better, but I in particular was freaking out because we were supposed to submit a work log along with it - which I hadn't done.

I think this was also the day I received some very distressing news about the health of a family member / friend / much-loved person. I feel a bit flippant mentioning this among all my petty problems, but there is no good place for news like this.

That evening I went to my last refuge of sanity and accidentally created drama there too. You know how Pandora caused something of a kerfuffle by unlocking that legendary box? Yeah, it turns out you can cause just as much by locking a door absentmindedly.

You go, girl!

On Thursday I had a day off uni and came down with a shitty cold. I spent most of the day huddled up in my room with the usual symptoms - leaky nose, sore throat, coughs and sneezes - and had to show people around my room because my landlord (who I'd been trying to contact for about a week) has decided we're all moving out next year. So there's househunting to 'look forward to' as well.

Who's awesome? YOU'RE awesome.

Friday actually hasn't been too bad. Some of the damage from Tuesday and Wednesday was undone, and I've potentially got some people to move in with next year - people I actually know in advance, which makes a nice change after three years of randoms. I was supposed to see Gav, but there was an organisational misunderstanding, and that fell through. We haven't seen each other for a week and I miss him.

Even WOMEN can put their thumbs up now! I know, crazy, right?

Of course, nobody does proper drama like The Internet. The forum I moderate has been a minefield, with international politics causing tension, and a member who was voluntarily banned (after some friction with yours truly) coming back with a secret identity (and causing friction with yours truly). Honestly, at this point I am willing to accept the hypothesis that I am the cause of it all, and shouldn't be allowed around people.

Yeah, fuck you, The Man!

This guy is my hero now. Look how happy he is! I bet HE isn't considering becoming a recluse just to preserve some semblance of sanity. And if there's any doubt lingering your mind as to how moronic some people can be, read the comments to this blog post that unfortunately became the first Google result for 'facebook log in' yesterday, drawing the attention and rage of hundreds of confused idiots. Read the comments, they're comedy gold!

And on that note I'll leave you. I heartily promise that my next post will contain only happiness and light.

O hai!

Hello, hello! It's been over two months since I last updated my blog. That's a very odd feeling, you know. This blog is my baby, but I wasn't doing you lot justice by saying "I'll update properly later" every week or so.

Y'see, I do care what you think. Every new reader makes me smile, and every comment gives me something to think about. But even apart from that, I'd keep this just for me. You know I would! Just like I did four years ago when I began, and nobody read it but me and an American radio presenter called Les. (I liked Les. I wonder how he is now?)

It makes to begin this post, as I have done with so many others, with a recap of what I've been up to lately. Just over a month ago I went home to the Isle of Wight, my beautiful island that I'd been missing so much. It was exactly what I needed. Some valuable family time, including a family reunion with my gorgeous, newest cousin Josie. Doesn't seem like that long ago I was celebrating her birth (I know for a fact I wrote a post in honour of her arrival, but I can't seem to find it now), and now she looks like this!

Josie

So, yes, there was an element of "My Haven't You Grown" happening in my head. At least now, I know that when friends of the family said that to me, they were secretly thinking "Good Lord I'm old."

I was equally delighted to spend a fair bit of time catching up with old friends. We went bowling, hung out on a beach in the rain, went to the cinema - all the usual stuff we used to do back when we were 17-19! I'd particularly like to thank Lucy, on the off-chance that she reads this, for being my rock when I go a little bit crazy. She's like a big sister to me.

Oh, speaking of big sisters, my biggest (in spirit) sis just got engaged! I couldn't be more delighted for her. Very exciting times!

After that little refresher course in Reasons My Family Drive Me Crazy (But I Love 'Em), I went to Southampton and the cruise began... it was a Cunard cruise, which essentially meant that I was outclassed by everyone and everything right down to the tablecloths, but that I got treated like royalty. Here follow some pictures of what I got up to:

The pool at night

The stateroom

Danger in Italy

One sunset

Ape on Gibraltar

All dressed up

Jump

I'm back in Cardiff now, getting on with all the stuff that needs getting on with when you've been away for a month. And looking for a job. There's just no avoiding it any more, finances won't allow me to stick my head in the sand, so I need to get out there and do an honest day's work like everyone else! So you can look forward to lots of complaining about a) not having a job or b) how my job sucks. Those appear to be my only options. Bummer. I'm also trying very very hard not to bite my nails, but you know the saying - old habits die hard. And this is the Bruce Willis of old habits.

And, just to leave you with some Interesting Things, I've had two songs stuck in my head lately - Coin-Operated Boy by the Dresden Dolls:

and Surfin' Bird, which goes like this (yes, I curse Family Guy every time I get it playing on the mental gramophone.)

Friends like these

Stupid changeable weather.

There comes a point, on days like this, when the abruptness of the weather change makes you question your choice of clothes. For me, today, it was at about the point the rain turned my t-shirt seethrough.

On the plus side, I did meet a lot of friendly people on the way home!

Speaking of friendly people, I was trying to explain Twitter to Ross last night. We were trying to explain to Dan why friendships with people you'd never met were perfectly valid and rewarding, and he raised the very interesting argument that I could be going out and meeting real people in the real world. Which is, of course, a perfectly valid point, and therefore made me want to cry and hit him with the keyboard until he stopped twitching.

Because, I mean, it was all very well being the introvert when I lived in Plymouth. Understandable, if not excusable. But now that I've moved to the promised land, why does it still feel so far beyond my reach to actually meet people by myself?

Well, the answer's obvious really. I'm horribly insecure. I don't really feel worthy of the friends I do have, and the thought of trying to make more is as daunting a prospect as it was when I was nine.

So! Food for thought there, for me anyway. Hope you're all well.