Pass the Ritalin.

 I don't know whether it's the hangover or my perpetual state of ADHD which is wearing me down but either way, I am beginning to feel more than a little restless. Is it all just a test of my commitment to my chilled-out-zen-like existence.... ? And of my patience and faith in the cosmos? I hope so.... but the more time I spend in Britain (as truly wonderful as both the hospitality and the weather have been and as thankful as I am for the same) the more I find myself wondering what the bloody hell I'm doing. Other than wasting precious days of my already meagre existence. Though, that said, I did meet some lovely people yesterday. And some very happy pigs.

It's all very comfortable you see, settled... home-cooked meals, my own (very messy) room, glasses of delicious wine in the garden, use of a super-fast Audi (I'm not confident of hanging onto my licence for much longer), an easy wee job with lovely people.... And I've discovered that I'm not very comfortable with being comfortable. Nor settled. Hence wanting to live in a van and go on a pilgrimage and a Buddhist retreat I suppose....

So, on the path to enlightenment and self-knowledge, I need to figure out what my aversion is to being settled before I go unsettling myself again, on a whim, to wherever life takes me... The next throw of the dice (thanks Craig)... but that's harder than it seems. And when I ponder it, really ponder it, it makes me sad. Which, if nothing else, is a sure sign I'm onto something... I feel like it's all a trap, you see. Like the Junk Lady's room in Labyrinth (possibly why my room is full of junk.... ). It's not real. All this shit we surround ourselves with. The routine, the familiar faces, familiar ideas, familiar environments.... Never really pushing ourselves to do something new, something different. Get out there. See the world. Just the same old thing day in, day out....

It's boring. It's stupid. And it's a waste of a life, my life at any rate... Life isn't comfortable. Life isn't settled. So, until July 6th (and the ensuing silence) I shall enjoy being comfortable and settled (and meeting wonderful people and pigs), safe in the knowledge that the walls will all, soon enough, come crashing down.

For now, I'm off to meditate in the garden. Peace and Love.

I am neither a cheese, nor a wine.

As my 29th birthday approaches (Friday... Aw, go on then, I'd really like a VW camper... any colour... ) I feel like I'm the only one who is unaffected by this perceived 'milestone'. No, it's not all downhill from here. No, I don't feel broody or in any way inclined to get (re)married, grow up and have kids. No, I don't think about the 'future', getting a 'real' job (who, pray tell, would bring all of you with such a thing your business lunches in Dunmow?), pensions or how to get a mortgage and thus secure (ha!) some sort of... I don't even know what... Seriously, I can think of nothing worse than to give up all of my dreams, hopes and aspirations for some sort of societal norm and its associated idea of 'acceptance'. Credence to anyone who makes such a sacrifice, to me it seems more challenging than the priesthood but, each to their own....

A few things, personal challenges if you like, that I intend to achieve this year, in no particular order, are;   return to Barcelona (party, party), attend a Buddhist meditation course (the crazy fuckers accepted me despite my unabashed honesty on the application form and I am now faced with ten days COMPLETE silence and super simple living.... I shall be accepting sponsorship closer to the time and donating anything raised (let's be honest, it's worth a punt...) to the centre), learn to fix aforementioned VW camper vans, get my music onto some sort of bootleg-able format (Big Tom, you're up....), remain patient and focused on the Dubai-Asia-South America plan (or the Universe's version of the same), make a video for 'The Aleph' and submit it in time, go to Glastonbury (with my Nan!!!!) and walk (or, should the van appear, drive) to Compostela all by myself.

These and about 500 other things... but these are the most important. So, in the light of this, rather jumbled but nonetheless very time-consuming, list I really feel that my life is a) far too busy to be thinking about 2nd husbands and all that jazz and b) not at all conducive to such things. I also really feel that I have so little time on this Earth (yes, thanks, you who shall remain anonymous, it is now even closer to its end...well, in your opinion... I'm with the Buddhists and re-incarnation. Or the Sumerians and off to Niburu for 3,600 years after this lifetime) I'd really like to spend it doing all the things I want, for me. Feeding the soul, learning, experiencing.... And it's enough of a job looking after myself half the time, never mind anyone else....

One other point is, there are so many wonderful people in my wee world just now, never mind the whole world at large (you should all know who you are.... If not, have faith) that the idea of locking myself (figuratively speaking) in a box, with one person (and 2.4 children and "a fucking big television"), forever and ever amen makes eating mushrooms and being adorned with tarantulas seem appealing. I just don't think I have it in me. So, pity away from your higher social status'... who knows, you may all be onto something. But I've always been one for a long-shot and I'm happy to say that no, I won't be calming down, chilling out or getting 'real' just because I'm pushing 30. I'm gonna get my van, travel the world and keep dating guys under 25. So there. (Hope the paragraphs helped, Manu ya old bastard!!)

Peace and Love.

Bird watching.

I LOVE Colin's Mum. She's Boss. And she has a beautiful garden full of birds and bees. Ornithology aside (learned a lot from your Mum, didn't you Col.....?!),

"False boobs, false nails, false teeth...." is her description of Liverpudlian lasses.

And it's not far off to be honest. I met some amazing people this weekend and must state for the record that they do not live up to this generalisation but, Jesus Christ, I have never seen anything like the girls in Merseyside... Except on the Only Way is Essex. Ok, I get the whole 'dolled-up' thing, just, but on a deeper level, what the fuck? It's utterly insane. Plastic surgery is becoming the norm and I, for one, am rather freaked out. I don't even understand why women cake their faces in make-up. Can't we just learn to look inward, get to know ourselves and be cool with who we are? It doesn't matter what you look like. It really doesn't. There are things in this world that we should care about and try to change. The colour of our hair, eyes, or skin doesn't really deserve that attention. It won't make your life better if you inflate your breasts and your ego. It will lead to deeper insecurities. And it'll make you act like a dickhead. Seriously, the next time you find yourself applying fake tan, or even a little bit of mascara, (you too boys.....!) at least think about what you're doing and why you're doing it. Just notice it. It's all very good and well putting on a mask, but who is it that you're hiding from.....?
Peace and Love.

To thine own self be true....

Did Shakespeare write that? In Hamlet? I am unsure... anyways, it's a good start. And came to mind when, at lunchtime, I had a table of three ladies in for lunch. The simple act of one said lady ordering dessert after initially saying she wouldn't (because "they're being 'good', so so will I...") actually made me whoop with joy. They thought I was slightly deranged (maybe not, but their sideways glances at each other suggested that yes, they did....) but I was genuinely delighted. And I hadn't even managed to get the words, on the tip of my tongue, that she should not base her decision on theirs out.... Freedom of Thought 1, Group Mentality 0. How often do we question our behaviour? And how often do we find ourselves going along with the crowd, maintaining the status quo, rather than fulfil ourselves and go against the grain? I would say not nearly often enough and far too bloody often, respectively. This may seem very trivial, it was just a couple of slices of banana bread and some toffee sauce for God's sake. She didn't even eat the ice cream... But, in the grand scheme of things, in our daily lives we really should be paying attention to such things. Are we standing up for our rights, for what we want, for what we believe....? Too often, the answer to these questions, and  a hundred more like them, is no. We have to be brave enough to say what we think, to have differing opinions and to stand out in the crowd. In this case, it was just a tasty treat at stake. Much more frequently these days, it's so much more.
Peace and Love

Pesky pescatrianism.

I could win prizes for my fussy eating- none of this faddy dieting to lose two stone in a week shit (though I recommend the barcelona diet to anyone on that buzz...) but genuine fussiness. Like a kid. Mostly, it's a texture issue and I often say "I don't like chewy stuff" (things you have to chew for so long your jaw starts to ache, like meat) but this isn't strictly true as I love Glasgow rolls and they are possibly the chewiest thing on Earth. And mushrooms, which I fear more than spiders (more so now I've seen how they can mummify insects from the inside out and then sprout a mushroom out through their brains....All the evidence I need that I was on to something with all this Funghi-avoidance a long time ago...) are not so much "chewy" as "squidgy" but then so too is smoked cheese and prawns and scallops and I quite like those things. Which brings me, kind of, to today's pondering. I have been feeling two things today with regards to yesterdays trip to the shed (and more generally in recent weeks) and the first is that it was a tasty treat and the second is, and this, as I say, has been niggling me for a while now.... guilt. Now, I don't think I know many vegetarians and this isn't any sort of 'everyone stop eating meat and save the cows...' chat, it's just a personal thing that goes back into my childhood. So, yes, anyway... I do feel really bad. And though my love affair with seafood is a fairly new (yet still spectacularly difficult)  relationship, I have oft wondered whether it's actually worth it. Generally I like (cooked ie. hot) white fish (though salmon is ok, sometimes), prawns (not so much the little ones, just the big ones...), lobster and fishfingers and at times, like when I've eaten scallops and clams, I have been even braver in my sea critter eating (yesterday I tried a razor clam. Rank). However, every time I eat seafood I do feel incredibly guilty. You see, it's the way we treat the animals that we eat that irks me (not just the fish, but fish are the only animals I eat....)- the fact that we take far more than we'll ever need and that we do it as if it's our God-given right. But I don't believe in God. And I don't believe it's our right. Without getting into the ethics of it all and sounding like a bible-basher, of sorts, I shall suffice to say that, at the very least, we should all take a bit more responsibility for the animals with whom we share our planet. And, if their days are numbered (or their flanks as I saw on a field full of wee lambs the other day (I refrained from sobbing. Just)) then we should at least treat them well and respect the huge favour they're doing us. Jesus gave his life (allegedly) and look at the bloody recognition he gets for God's sake...  Ok, I understand that this may (does) seem OTT to all of you, but eating fish was a big thing for me a few years ago and is something I've battled with internally... (As ridiculous as I know that sounds, because I've just read it back). Anyways, I shall leave it there. I'm off to watch Finding Nemo. Respect. Peace and Love.