Thank You, My Love

My Olivia has passed today at the great age of 16. She was my dear friend who went through thicks and thins right beside me. I loved her from the moment she came through my Baltimore apartment door, being a chunky little yorkie who had good heart and mind.

I thank her for everything she did and was. A truely beautiful dog in every way.

Thank you for everything. Love you, and sleep well. Say hello to Mandy for me.

2 yrs Today

The price for an ounce of happiness, was 2 years of absolute hell which tailed right after. It is something of the vicinity of you asking for a pink bon-bon, of which joy lasts for 3 minutes, and then you fall in to a diabetic coma for next 8 months.

Price of happiness is shot high, not even a comparison to the property values in London. That joy mashed me down to particles and I was high and dry, waiting to be blown off by the gash of wind.

"How other people were surviving,"

the dehydrated mind of mine was thinking,

"...in this mean world full of malice?"

The hatred was the first thing formed me back into human form. It was unhealthy but was better than nothing. Just knew that I was in the right and thus hated the ones in the wrong. Sense of justice was making me a bitter thing while I was reconstituting into breathing life.

I am OK now. I shouldn't be but I am. I still hate them. I still am angry. But I am OK. Never wanting happiness though. Anyone trying to make me happy has no business in my life because I will never trust one.

Happy 2 years anniversary. I wish you burn in hell.

Assumption is...

I was born under self-pitying stars. Us stingers are destined to sob in every corner of our lives and say,

"Why, why me? Nobody ever understands me!"

I am, very much, like that, but hate imposing the wrong "ass-u-me" on people. Fair enough, I am devil in a penguin disguise, any sod will not take me as serious and useful, but rather as creepy and weird. But that does not suggest me that you don't get me.

Being misunderstood is kind of a luxury. You can take an advantage of such situations. It is all about human psychology, and disguise is a useful tool when it comes to manipulating others.

Then, again, it can be the source of self-pitying, in some occasions. For instance, people decidedly call me a jumpy paranoia, who look at the half empty glass and put up defence walls all around me. I get accused for blowing up bad stories done to me because I jump to conclusions.

There is a difference between pointing facts out and assuming what other people think. If you are being a bully, I'd say,

"I think you are mean because you did this and that,"

I am merely pointing out what you practiced, not that I am assuming that you hate me. You being not nice to me is not making me to whip up a conclusion you don't want to hear or admit.

Yes, I was ignored by them bitches at work, and yes, they were loud and not working, and yes, one of them forgot to tell me what he was supposed to do and made me pay a few hundred extra quid to cover it up, and yes, I filed the complaints because he was not listening to me. Under those circumstances, did I ever say that them bitches hate me? No. Even though I REALLY do have to think they must dislike me, I NEVER said they did. You do NOT guess what's going on in others' head.

Assumption is a mother of all fuck-ups. It really is. Face the music, and eat the reality. (Tough!)

a Few of Your Favourite Things

You know how you fantasise about having something, and you just want it more and more over a long period of time, and the idea of having it becomes some sort of obsession. Then one day, out of blue, or after making so much effort, it becomes yours. Then you just think, that, it is not as good as you thought it would be. "IT" can be anything. Can be a puppy, can be killer jeans, can be being size 0, can be your love, can be about living in City.

I am quite obsessive over materials, facts and figures, as well as theories, hypothesis and phenomena. I like ideas. And I like collecting things. I am a geek and am unique and proud of it.

When growing up, I was obsessively wanting to drive. It was not a short running dream, but rather a life long plan to be achieved one day.

It took years before I finally even set off to take lessons. My plan of "things to do before 30" was not at all going well, I did not buy a second hand mini when I was 25. I knew since 1990 that new "BIG" mini was coming out at around 2000, and I wanted to be prepared for it, by having a second hand mini for a couple of years, but I didn’t make it.

When preparing for the driving test people asked me what is the first thing I’d do after passing. I always said,
"Am going to garden centres, one after another. And will probably go midnight shopping in ASDA"

And that’s exactly what I was fantasising to do. Stindgy, but not from practicality. These are the things that represented the freedom to me. The joy of going to garden centres is strictly forbidden by any of my friends and such. The pleasure of cruising around in ASDA past midnight, looking for a carton of tomato juice only to go back to display fridge for a fresh one, only belongs to myself, none other.


When I finally passed, and started driving, it was not unlike what I thought it would be. It was actually better. The feeling of freedom, the fact I can hop to garden centres any time, and go to ASDA on a minute notice, not coming back till the trolley was filled with booze and veggies and meat. Then the driving extended to 20 mile range, 40 mile range and before long I was going to places 250 miles away.

Joy of freedom. Or, perhaps, the word "freedom" might be a wrong choice, because that word has touch sense of being positive and having your competitive sense fulfilled. What I feel is rather like "sense of detachment". How lovely feeling that is. Not wanting to want anybody, and not needing to realize not being wanted. I don’t even need a 2.0L car to ensure that feeling. I don’t need to go 200 mph to keep remembering that I am driving. All I need is a road, so I can keep going, leading straight to that high contrast sky, out of everyone’s sight, into my fantasy world.

Being Mrs. Such and Such

I have been married a lot of time. Working in a call centre and part of my job is to proxy some dumb customers with loads of stash means to pretend being some people I have never met. One thing I cannot pretend is the sex, so naturally I tend to end up being their Mrs. so and so. I had to come up with excuses of himself not calling, such as;

"My husband is on a business trip to Europe and not returning to UK for another 3 weeks. Are you saying that I have to be stuck in the house without phone service and internet for that long?"

"I have a friend in the area so I am staying here for a few days, but we are not actually living in this area yet, and my husband is not even in this country."

blah, blah, blah...

I am a big fat liar, and that's how our business works.

Every time I become Mrs. Such and Such I feel so dreadful and cynical. Hate the whole institute of marriage. I never wanted to get married, and I never will. Even fictitious marriage makes me feel drained. And every time I come across strong, as if to say,

"Yes, I can ask you to do this for him because he is my husband and I have his consent."

I am laughing in my head. Since when being Mrs. gives anyone any right that has anything to do with any man? Being married to the guy should not give one any power against certain phone company to skip credit checks and go ahead with 12 months contract. It is just absurd.

(Why even be with you? I have no right towards you, your life, and your schedule. You cannot need me. You are you.)

Business as always.  Illusions make good money.

Love That Chi-Chi

Wouldn't intentionally cyber stalk them, I find that disturbing. If I find something by accident, then, I let them know I did. If you give me a link, that's another story, though.

 

Love that chi-chi, and them cat-fish.

 

Actually, I remember the first time I found someone I knew on Wiki. That was crazy. He was a total arse and I hated that guy. I found him after trying to reach some old friend who moved to the same town I was in. Wiki?? What a geek.

 

Then I found another one. He was like, super famous, but I never believed him. He was this creepy guy with some fucked up head with serious problem and was not charismatic like he always made himself sound like. Wiki?? Seriously.

 

Well, hope they are OK. Haven't seen neither of them for a while now.

Decadence

I think it is a complete madness that you are able to check up on your next date on the internet, listening to interviews and read reviews, references in Wiki and all that. Girlfriend, that's just wrong, you got to stop and re-think the whole thing, before putting on that plunge bra and stiletto, with layers of lip gloss and powder cheek, then dashing out of the door. That's what groupies do, isn't that?