Only Two Weeks? Eek!

Christmas is creeping up on me.  It hit me earlier today that I’ve only got two weeks to get everyone’s presents sorted.  Actually I’ve already got a few.  And I know what I’m getting my mum and older sister.  But what to get The Child?  I’ve got the things she asked Santa for but what else to get her?  She’s got tons of toys so I don’t want to get her many more of those really.  And clothes she’s more or less sorted for I think.  So what else?  I’m stuck.  And I’ve only two weeks in which to get sorted.  Eek.  I’ll be traipsing around town tomorrow after signing on I think.  Which reminds me, I need to take in my password and user number thing for their new website.  And I need to give them the information about my new volunteer job.  At least I’m not spending all my time doing nothing.  But what to get The Child?  Christmas is going to be a meagre affair this year.  And not just because of money.  I could get some more books I suppose.  To Waterstones it is then.  And then later on to Amazon.  I might be buying myself gas credit for Christmas this year.  We’re getting through that like nothing else now too.  I really hate this time of year.  Cold, broke, miserable, and irritated by the Christmas hype.  Joy.

Oh please can someone give me a job? 

Where Did It Go?

I’m beginning to wonder where my sense of humour went.  I used to be able to see the funny side of things a lot more often.  I didn’t always used to feel so annoyed and angry about things so often.  Take today for example, we had a minor family crisis.  Ok, so what happened was not in the slightest bit funny.  Under no circumstances would I ever have found it funny.  But given that my first reaction to what happened was extreme anger and disbelief, I was somewhat thrown.  Once upon a time I would have felt guilt and concern.  Perhaps it’s just that5 this year has thrown too much crap my way.  It’s been pretty crap for the rest of the family as well.  The Ex has had more than his fair share too.  In fact I’m beginning to think he’s been a bit of a saint where The Child and me are concerned, given what he’s done for us this year while coping with his own family traumas and everything. 

I’m not sure if I just feel a bit like I’ve been taken for granted.  I spend so much time being there for everyone else that it’s a bit easy to neglect myself.  I’ll spend so much time worrying about others that I forget my situation.  Of course, it’s nice to forget about my situation, but I can only take on so much of the crap belonging to other people before it begins to add to my own crap.  So, while some people may feel I’m neglecting them or whatever, perhaps I’ve taken on just about as much as I can handle.  Perhaps I’m in need of someone to hold my hand for a change.  And is it really a surprise that I might choose to offer more support to those who support me than those who don’t?  Personally I think that’s more than reasonable.  We’re all sinking this year.  I just hope I manage to pull myself out of this soon.  For my own sake before anyone else’s.

Perhaps I’ll look back on this year sometime in the future and find humour in it all, but right now about all I can say is we could have one hell of a family Christmas newsletter this year.  I would give the ‘at least we still have . . .’ speech, but I don’t want to jinx anything.  Besides, we still have a few weeks of this year left.  Anything could still happen.  Joy.

Lifestyle? What lifestyle?

So, this post might come across as a little preachy or something, but I do feel it’s somewhat important that I say my piece on this. Being a single parent I follow Gingerbread. I’m a member of their site and follow them on Facebook etc. So when they posted this:

http://gingerbread.org.uk/content.aspx?CategoryID=954

I felt I had to respond. And for those who want to read what the fuss is about, you can do that here:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/politics/9697983/Welfare-minister-dreadful-benefits-system-gives-people-a-lifestyle-on-the-state.html

So, let me describe my “lifestyle”. It consists mainly of being broke and hunting for a job. I have been a single mum since The Ex and I split up about a month after our daughter’s first birthday. It was not a lifestyle choice. I left him because he was emotionally abusive and I was scared about the implications for our daughter of being brought up in an environment like that. I didn’t leave him for me. I left him for her. And to be honest, aside from the being broke thing it’s worked out pretty well for us. The Ex and I no longer hate each other and are capable of doing things with our daughter together as a family. Would we be doing that if we were still together? Probably not. And when I say we do things as a family, we can only afford to do things because I’m thrifty, and he works. He actually spends an awful lot on her. Probably more than I do. If we’re talking about treats anyway. I spend on the boring things. Food, rent, heating bills, clothes etc. So yeah, it’s an amazing lifestyle we’re living.

I made the decision to stay at home with my daughter instead of getting a job when I was still with The Ex. Ok, so perhaps I should have started looking for work as soon as I left him. Lots of you will feel that way. Especially as we’re living off your taxes. Well, let me just say this, ever since she started school I’ve been looking for work. The fact that I have as yet been unable to find a job is beyond depressing. I am trying. Unfortunately as a single mum I am restricted by available childcare. I am not flexible enough for many employers. Other jobs just don’t offer enough hours. I could work twelve hours a week as cleaner, but I’d still be relying on benefits. And I wouldn’t get the tax credits, so would be having to fork out for childcare costs without any help which would make us poorer than we are now (so please don’t hate me for not wanting to take that option. The Jobcentre are actually on my side there. Hell, they advised me not to do that.) And oh yeah, given I have a degree, some will pull out the “over qualified for the job” card. Joy. I totally went to uni so I could sit on my arse living off other people’s taxes. But once I get a job (note the optimism there) I shall be paying taxes. And I won’t be moaning about other single mums making use of the benefit system. Most single parents aren’t in their situation because they want a government funded lifestyle. Some are there because their partners left them, or died. Some left abusive relationships. And yeah, there may be some who wanted the council house etc., but despite those few, I don’t think the rest of us deserve to be tarred with the same brush.

If childcare wasn’t so expensive, and was more flexible, I might be working right now. Only as a waitress or something mind, but I might be employed. I wish there was more support and understanding for people like me. I don’t want to be where I am now. Unfortunately, I don’t see much of a way out right now. A bit defeatist perhaps, but I soldier on anyway.

Job Hunting

I am having so much fun job hunting.  Not.  Now if there were any jobs available I might be.  Then again, rejections aren’t so fun.  And that’s when they have the decency to let you know you haven’t got the job.  Anyway, for two days in a row, a job search on the jobcentre site hasn’t even brought up any jobs.  None at all.  As I do a daily online search I only search the latest jobs each day, before looking back over old ones.  But there we are.  Since I officially started on jobseekers allowance, there has been absolutely nothing jobwise available for me to apply for.  Now if I could work evenings and weekends (I can’t because of childcare constraints, for those of you who’ll think I’m being choosy), it would be fine.  If I had loads of experience working in hotels, or bars, or something like that, or had a driving licence and car, there would be millions of jobs to apply for.  But nope.  Joy.  I love job hunting.  I’ve been doing it for a year now, and it seriously is amazing how crap it can make you feel. 

On a positive, I totally passed my counselling skills course, so now have a University Foundation Award.  I just need the twenty-one grand to do the degree now.  So, must find a job and get saving.  Oh yeah, there aren’t any.

I do of course live in hope that by repeatedly going on about how there are no jobs, suddenly loads will appear.  But this is probably tempting fate further I suppose.  Grrr.

I haven’t met a Pauline at the jobcentre yet either.  I keep looking though.

The Joy of Fireworks

This year we finally gave up on bonfire night.  No fireworks for us.  The Child hates them.  Well, she hates the noise.  Past years have seen her screaming and making a huge fuss.  Hats and earmuffs don’t help either.  And so today we are at home.  Listening to all the lovely fireworks outside.  She keeps yelling at them to shut up, while I think we may as well have gone to see some.  And they are very pretty.  She said as much when we saw some on the way home from Sainsbury’s.  For those wondering, we did a late teatime shop so it was dark.

The bangs are easing off a bit now though, so there is less shouting coming from the living room.  At times like this I do wish she wasn’t so sensitive to loud sounds.  It can make some things quite problematic.  Like travelling by train.  She still won’t get too close to trains because of the noise.  So, fireworks, not so joyful it seems.  Not when you’re a noise sensitive six year old anyway.  Joy.

Victorian Dress Up Day. Hurrah

Tomorrow The Child has a Victorian dress up day at school.  Finding her something to use as a costume has been a huge pain in the backside.  Actually, that’s not entirely true.  Almost as soon as I saw the letter I thought of an old dress my sister gave us that I let The Child use for dressing up.  Worn over a dark dress it might just do for a pinafore type thing.  And I have to credit The Ex with getting hold of the black dress thing and the bonnet.  She should look ok I think.  Hopefully.  This costume is a vast improvement on the ladybird one we made for World Book Day last summer.  Of course, The Child isn’t that fussy yet.  She just enjoys the novelty of the thing.  Thankfully.  But there is no way I’d buy a costume that’s only really going to be used once.  Her princess dress has had a lot of wear, but dressing as a Victorian?  I don’t see The Child wanting to do that much in the future.  And at least they aren’t doing some more fussy and complicated era.  Yet.  Trying to scrounge up an Elizabethan type ruff could prove interesting.  Paper doilies perhaps?

The Ideas Kids Get

I had yet another bizarre/amusing/worrying conversation with The Child earlier.  It seems she’s somehow got it into her her head that head-butting someone in the throat, or getting them in a breath constricting headlock helps them get to sleep.  A permanent kind of sleep perhaps.  But it perhaps explains the bedtime headlock cuddles she gives me almost every night.  She likes to cut off my ability to breathe, but it comes from a good place.  Bless her.

This revelation came about when she told me she was going to head-butt her cuddly penguins in their throats tonight to help them get to sleep.  She also claims they head-butt her in the throat too.  I really don’t want to know what games she plays with them really.  Ignorance is bliss and all that.

Of course, The Child isn’t really a psychopath or anything like that.  I was obsessed with things that kill people when I was her age.  Sharks and dinosaurs and stuff like that.  Oh, and when I saw Jaws for the first time, I was disappointed by the lack of gore.  Oh, and I was just a little bit gutted when the shark dies at the end.  How I wanted the shark to win.  And now I’m a relatively normalish kind of person, so The Child will turn out ok I’m sure.  I hope anyway.  Eek.

How Do They Do It?

I see so many benefit bashing threads online.  I try not to read them.  I really do.  I just find them upsetting and they tend to written by such small minded judgemental people.  The people who would have had me stay with The Ex, despite the emotional abuse, so that I wouldn’t now be this unemployed single mum that I currently am.  Anyhow, I suppose the problem people who write these sorts of threads on forums have is with the small minority of people who totally work the benefits system.  This minority of people, such as The Ex’s family, always seem to have the latest TV and mobile.  As someone who gets the full whack of single mum with one child benefits, I have no idea how they do it.  I’m struggling to make ends meet on what I get.  And yes, I know I’d be much better off with a job.  Provided I don’t have to pay out much for childcare.  Childcare costs could result in me being worse off actually.  Though I assure any benefit bashing people out there that I am looking for work, despite this fact.  And I’m not even on Jobseekers yet, so there.  It’s just that there have been a sever lack of jobs available with appropriate hours.  As a single mum, I can’t do night-shifts etc.  Anyway, I honestly have no idea how people in my situation do it.  How can they afford new iPhones?  My mobile keeps doing dodgy things and I’m praying it keeps going for a little while longer, because I won’t be able to afford a new one.  Until I get a job anyway.  And it’s not like the child or me eat much.  We make our clothes last a while too.  It’s ages since I had a wardrobe upgrade.  Oh, and before anyone thinks I’m moaning about this inability to afford new clothes and mobiles, I’m not.  Why would I expect to be able to afford such things in my situation?  If I want an expensive treat, I save up my birthday and Christmas money, and eat less.  The Child, bills and rent always come first.  So it this how these people do it then?  Do they buy all the latest stuff by not paying rent and bills?  Possibly.  I wouldn’t know.  Because despite being on benefits, I’m (quite rightly) absolutely broke.  For me the odd book/CD/DVD is a splurge.  And I don’t remember the last time I ever paid full price for one of those things.  Sales are my friend.  But I’m still left wondering, how do they do it?

Feeling Old

I don’t drink much or often.  But occasionally I will treat myself to the odd bottle of wine.  Especially if it’s on offer.  Anyway, in order to celebrate the fact that I’m now officially pushing thirty (eek!) I purchased myself some wine.  Now, another woman on the self-service checkout next to mine was also getting wine.  I see this woman often as we pass on the school run.  She's undoubtedly prettier than me, but I’d always thought we looked a similar age.  Anyhow, we both finished at the same time, but the guy working these checkouts went to her first.  He ID’d her and she was both surprised and annoyed (as I would have been).  She had no ID so had to give up the wine.  He then immediately turned to me and said without giving it a second thought, “You’re alright.”  Yes I got my wine, and I’ve not been ID’d since I was twenty-three, but still.  I suppose I’m glad I don’t look that young really.  I just don’t want to look old.  Not yet.  Especially as I feel bloody old at times.  But bearing in mind I’m now almost thirty, I could have done with that little ego boost.  Grrr.  The cake cheered me up though.  As did the wine.

But I do feel old sometimes.  I act like a kid so often, and then feel embarrassed, thinking I should at least be playing at being a grown up.  But how does one act like a grown up?  We’re supposed to be responsible I suppose?  Well, I can budget, and pay my bills on time and everything.  I’m never short of money for rent because I’m careful not to overspend.  But is that all there is to being a grown up?  Beyond holding down a responsible job (which shall hopefully soon be me)?  Beyond taking good care of any children one might have (that one’s still debatable with me of course, though I do my best)?  Actually The Child makes me feel old.  She finds everything so amazing and exciting and has so much energy.  Was I ever that enthusiastic about anything?  I can’t remember.  And I’m convinced I never had that much energy either.  But maybe I should try and hold onto the childish immature side of me, as then perhaps I won’t ever feel too old.  Perhaps other grown ups out there feel as immature and stupid as I do on occasion.  Though I know I wish The Child wasn’t in such a hurry to get here.  She seems to have far more fun.  Though I remember thinking that grown ups got it easy.  No school.  I didn’t consider what having a job might be like.  And grown ups can watch whatever they like on TV.  They can look at whatever they like on the internet.  They can write whatever they like on the internet.  But kids can get away with naivety.  Try being an overly naive adult, now that’s not so much fun I can tell you.  Though I’m not as bad as I was.  At least I don’t think I am. 

Just a Little Worried

I’m just a little worried about The Child.  She has just posed the question, “What would happen if your boobs were alive and had teeth, and brushed their teeth themselves?”  I honestly didn’t know what to say to that other than, “That would be creepy and weird.”  She’s also just a little bit obsessed with things dying, and killing slugs and flies.  I’m not sure how worried I should be.  I vaguely remember cutting worms in half and things, but I don’t think I was ever so obsessed with boobs.  Or death for that matter.  Sure I liked gore and things, but still.  Hmm.  She’s a strange individual.  And I’m wondering if I should perhaps read We Need to Talk About Kevin.  There are times I wish I had a nice placid sort of child.  One who doesn’t excitedly tell me every time she kills a slug.  I don’t want to know about killing slugs.  I’d rather not know.  And as for the boobs thing, I have tried to ignore it.  But now it’s getting ridiculous.  When she starts telling my family that I’ve got big fat boobs, it’s gone too far.  But none of us could keep a straight face.  She really needs to learn the difference between fat, thin, and average.  She could offend many people with her gross misuse of the words “big” and “fat”.  Oh dear.

The Suspense is Killing Me

I’m anxiously awaiting the arrival of next Tuesday.  It’s when I have my ‘transferring to jobseeker’s’ meeting at the Jobcentre.  How I wished I could have found a job before this point in time.  Grrr.  Oh well.  I’m sure it won’t be as bad as I’m expecting.  Perhaps someone will actually have some helpful advice or something.  Or perhaps they’ll just send me to the careers advisor again or something.  Or send me to that place where The Ex did all those random courses that have done nothing to help him get another job.  At least he has a job though.  And he’s about to get promoted or something.  He’s got more hours now anyway.  Lucky him. 

So this month is shaping up to be a barrel of laughs.  I am actually dreading next week more than being on jobseeker’s.  Possibly.  In fact all I’m dreading about being on jobseeker’s is the probable pressure to apply for every possible job going regardless of whether the hours suit and whether I’m actually qualified.  This of course will maximise the rejection potential, and increase the depression that accompanies this.  Of course I don’t mean actual clinical depression here.  Though I suppose it could lead to that.  Of course by doing that I might get a job I didn’t expect to.  Perhaps that’s where I’ve been going wrong.  I’ve not applied for jobs requiring experience I don’t have, and that want the applicant to be able to work weekends and evenings.  Actually, I suspect that even if I did get one of those, they wouldn’t suddenly change their mind about availability and work hours.  Hmm.  I know it’s not going to be as bad or stressy as I expect.  But I do hate going to the Jobcentre.  Something about the place just fills me with dread.  And so yeah, the suspense is killing me.  I just want to know what to expect.  I just want to get it over and done with.  I want a job already.

Oh, and as no giant killer spiders have appeared yet, the anxiety over the appearance of those is increasing daily.  I hate being so pathetic, but even the knowledge that I have dealt with them fine all by myself isn’t helping me now.  Again, I just want to get that over and done with.  Then again, if we could get through a whole spider season without seeing any, that would be great.  Of course I have now totally tempted fate.  At least it’ll get it over and done with.

At least The Child has settled back in at school.  And she already has a party invite.  Yes.  I still envy her social life.  And I can’t believe she’s in year one.  She’s almost six.  That’s the scariest thing yet.  Oh joy, yet another thing to look forward to.  Her birthday party.  Grrrr.

And I’m not actually sure that suspense is actually an appropriate term in relation to any of the above.  It just seems wrong to me, but I can’t think of anything better.  Oh well.  One day my grasp of the English language might improve.  The fact that I want to be a writer is alarming.

Jane Austen

If I’m being totally honest, the only reason I re-read my Jane Austen books recently was to try and further erase the awfulness of Fifty Shades from my memory.  It actually worked until I just reminded myself there.  Anyway, the point of this post is to verbalise my curiosity for the lack of love there seems to be for Northanger Abbey.  I know it’s not as good as the others really in terms of the characters and everything, but I still really enjoy reading it.  And if I’m totally honest I’m probably far more like Catherine Morland than any other Austen heroine.  I’d rather be like Elizabeth Bennet though, but wouldn’t we all?  I also have a soft spot for Mr. Tilney.  Sure he’s no Darcy, but personally that isn’t really a bad thing.

So yeah, I like Northanger Abbey.  I relate to Catherine Morland, and I like Mr. Tilney.  I’ll change my mind after watching the BBC Pride and Prejudice again I’m sure, but never mind.  Mmmm, Colin Firth’s Mr. Darcy. 

Though I did like JJ Feild as Mr. Tilney.

Writing

So, after many months off, I’ve made an effort to try and get the writing thing going again.  After all, I’m never going to improve if I don’t keep at it am I?  This involves reading lots, both factual books for research, and fictional books for inspiration, tips, and what not to dos.  In fact some use has come from those awful books I read recently.  I need to do better than them if I’m ever to have a chance of any kind of success.  Bear in mind that I class actually liking what I’ve written myself as success, and that’s obviously before I let anyone else have a look.  In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever shown anyone anything I’ve ever written, not since the rubbish dinosaur stories I wrote as a kid. 

Trying to immerse myself in Tudor history is somewhat slow going this time though.  I am reading a really good book right now though actually, but I’m not sure it isn’t serving more to demotivate me.  I’ll never be that good.  But that’s not the right attitude here.  I will persevere.  I will succeed.  And if I tell myself this often enough, then who knows, I might even succeed.  Yay.

On the other hand, given the amount of crap out there about the Tudors, I might just give up and decide to focus on another less overdone era instead.  Hmm.

The End Is In Sight

I cannot wait for The Child to go back to school.  I have had more than I can stand of CBeebies.  I cannot take anymore of her Thomas the Tank Engine DVDs, or the whinging when I actually want to do something other than slob around at home.  I’m sick of breakfast lasting hours.  Though perhaps I’ve not been stressy enough.  Perhaps I need to convey an air of panic when trying to get The Child ready in a morning.  Maybe that’s where I’ve been going wrong.  Perhaps my reluctance to traipse into town is showing.  Though I’ve done an amazing job of tourist avoidance so far.  The heat is not helping my mood though.  Nor is the humidity.  In fact I think a good thunder storm’s in order. 

Every year I forget how much I loathe summer.  I forget how nightmarish it is to keep The Child entertained.  I actually wouldn’t mind escaping to a job every day and forking out the £100 a week childcare.  Though I would get however much of that paid for me once I could prove I was working the appropriate hours.  And to be honest, it isn’t actually worth my while financially to work more than twenty-four hours a week.  I need to get out though.  I’m beginning to feel like a caged animal.  I’ve had enough of Guess Who, and pairs.  Playing with children is not something I’m good at.  And I just can’t appreciate kids TV.  I loathe the false cheeriness of it all.  I am turning into a grumpy old woman.  And I’m still in my twenties.  It’s alarming.  Actually, when talking to the right people it is somewhat cathartic.  But there we go. 

So, summer hasn’t been such fun.  It’s better than spider season though.  And now they’re beginning to appear.  Joy.  Tourists or spiders?  Yep, I’d take the tourists.  Sure they have the potential to turn me into an axe wielding maniac, but they’re less scary.  Much less scary.  Not scary at all really.  They just amble along like mindless zombies. 

At least the olympics is over.  And The Child goes back to school in a fortnight.  Yay.

Still no job though.  Grrr.

Tennis

I love tennis.  I can’t play it at all, despite having a few lessons when I was younger.  And let’s not forget the occasional high school tennis lessons either.  I enjoyed it though, and it’s probably the only sport I actually enjoy watching.  Anyway, for once we (as in Britain) did alright.  The Child actually almost got interested in tennis too.  And she was very patriotic, saying she wanted Murray to win.  And of course in the singles today he did.  This is the moment I confess that myself, my mother, and my sister were actually rooting for Federer.  As we did during Wimbledon.  We just prefer Federer.  I still enjoyed the match, and I suppose in a way I am actually glad that Murray’s doing well.  Really well.  Britain doesn’t actually suck too much.  I have no idea about any of the other Olympic stuff though.  I’m not really that fussed with anything but the tennis.

And having long since given up on Fifty Shades (my god did those books just make me angry!), I’m now enjoying the Hunger Games.  In my opinion it’s loads better.  There’s an actual plot, and even if I didn’t immediately warm to the protagonist, there was enough going on to keep me interested.  And to be honest, it only took a couple of chapters for me to start to warm to the protagonist.  Characterisation really helps with this I find.

I’m still counting down the days to the end of summer though.  September can’t come quick enough.

Summer

I’ve been thinking of the things The Child can claim to have done this summer.  Even though we’re only two weeks in she has done a fair bit.  She’s practised her reading and writing a bit more.  She’s been to two parties.  And she’s had her first sleepover.  This last thing still makes me feel a bit funny.  She’s stayed at my parents’ many times, but this was different.  She’s growing up.  Fast.  It’s actually scaring me a little.  And never have I felt so lost on an evening before.  It was strange having no child to check up on.  When she’s stayed at my parents’, I’ve always had a night out or something to occupy me.  Not this time.  And even though she was only staying with her friends next door, it felt so strange.  It’s nice to know that there is some maternal feeling in there somewhere though.

She’s also been to Whitby and Pickering, to the abbey and the castle.  We’re thinking Scarborough castle next week if the weather permits.  She likes running around old ruins.  I used to like running around old ruins.  Now I’m boring and am more interested in the history of the old ruins.  I’m hoping we manage to keep as busy throughout the rest of summer.  Only four more weeks to go though.  Not long.  I hope the ideas don’t dry up completely.  In some respects I am very imaginative.  However, when it comes to keeping The Child amused I usually find myself drawing blanks.  Hmm.

A Good Day

I’ve finished my final essay!  Yay!  I think I’ll treat myself to a little something when I go out to the shops tomorrow.  Or I suppose I could consider the books I just ordered online my treat.  Or the copy of Süddeutsche Zeitung Magazin: Sonderheft Rammstein that’s currently on it’s way to me from Germany.  Hmm.  Though it is a long time since I had wine.  Ages in fact. 

So I have managed to finish my 3000 word essay at long last.  Actually it didn’t take me that long to write.  I’m going to reward myself this evening be relaxing with Bring up the Bodies.  I’ve almost finished it actually, and am finding it a much easier read than Wolf Hall for some reason. 

And did I mention my copy of Süddeutsche Zeitung Magazin: Sonderheft Rammstein was posted to me yesterday?  Hopefully it’ll get here soon.  Can’t wait.  And then I’ll be able to read literary works about Tudor England while perving over German musicians.  Is it strange that that’s my current idea of heaven?  Forget becoming a counsellor, perhaps I need help myself.

Anyway, I was in desperate need of a day like today.  Today I am happy.  I shall try and recall how I felt at this exact moment when I am next feeling rubbish.  I shall remind myself that I am capable of feeling so good I jump up and down for joy.

Oh yeah, I forgot to pay the water bill today.  Good buzz is gone.  Though I could be feeling worse.

It’s a Scary World Out There

As a result of not getting out much, I spend a lot of time online.  I’m a member of a couple of forums, and lots of my friends post links to interesting things on Facebook.  I post links to less interesting things on Facebook.  But anyway, courtesy of one of my forums, I have found out some rather disturbing information relating to America and abortion laws.  Oh, and the criminalisation of miscarriages too.  So while I can understand how some people may regard abortion as murder (After a certain point anyway.  And I would like to point out here that I am pro-choice), I fail to see how women who suffer miscarriages could be accused of such.  Given there are so many medical reasons for miscarriage it is totally wrong to assume the women have done something to purposely terminate their pregnancies.  It is scary and sickening that this is happening really.  Especially in this day and age where we know a fair bit about biology and everything.  Anyway, I do have a couple of links.  Just hope they work.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/jun/24/america-pregnant-women-murder-charges

http://www.motherjones.com/blue-marble/2011/02/miscarriage-death-penalty-georgia

It’s a scary world out there.  A very scary world.

Fenced In

Watching 9 Songs always leaves me wishing I could go to more gigs.  I miss my very late teens/early twenties.  Now I love The Child, but the more time goes on the more I miss my life pre-motherhood.  I just feel that I’d have more choices if I wasn’t tied to the house with The Child.  And I know I’m not tied to the house while she’s at school, but I spend that time trying to look for jobs and doing work for my counselling skills course.  Actually, the hand in date for my last essay is next Wednesday.  And then it will be over.  Officially.  And I’ll have nothing to do then but job-hunt and do my volunteer job on the occasional Saturday I’m needed.  So yeah, I wish I had more freedom really.  I feel a bit fenced in.  And I need to stop being so self pitying really.  I really can be so miserable sometimes, and no one likes people who’re too self-pitying.  Besides, there are people in far worse situations than me.  I just wish people would understand what it’s like a bit more really.  Though perhaps the summer won’t be that bad.  Perhaps the weather will keep away the worst of the tourists, and perhaps I’ll find a job.  Perhaps The Child will get over this current grim phase she’s going through.  Perhaps she’ll start sleeping again.  And perhaps our house will stop looking like a bomb site.  I’d still love to go to another gig though.  I need gig going friends and a babysitter.  I need something anyway.  I think I’m losing my grip on sanity.  Ironically though, I think the essay I’m writing on depression might actually be helping me hang on to the sanity a bit.  It’s the CBT aspect though I think.  Something will come along soon though.  That or I’ll just manage to keep going as always.  Everything will be fine etc.  I just hope I start believing it soon.

Impasse

So, The Ex and myself have come to some sort of impasse I think.  This is the second nasty row we’ve had recently, and both have ended with him basically performing a character assassination.  Actually, he really needs to figure out what character assassination means as he accuses me of it now.  Apparently my being irritated by his occasional memory lapses and such is character assassination, whereas him criticising just about every aspect of my personality isn’t.  I’m beginning to remember just why our relationship was a complete disaster now though.  Perhaps I was stupid to think we could actually be relatively good friends.  It’s a shame really though considering I’m about as shy as they come and find it really difficult getting to know people.  As a result I have hardly any friends (I’m assuming that’s the reason.  I refuse to believe I’m as unlovable as The Ex would have me believe at times), and those I do have live miles away.  I feel incredibly isolated at times.  I suppose that’s why I’ve clung onto this ‘friendship’ for so long.

I could have done with him realising he just doesn’t like me a few years ago to be honest.  Actually if he’d realised it nine years ago that would have been good.  In fact, he still needs to realise it, as he’s claiming he wants to be my friend still.  For that to work though I need to change just about every aspect of my personality.  Though of course he says my personality isn’t the issue.  To shed a little light, he has issues with my shyness, my quietness, the fact that I’m not particularly extroverted and am rubbish at talking about random things I know nothing about, and the fact that I don’t require his babysitting skills on account of never going out.  Oh and he has issues with my hatred of the government too.  Apparently I act as though I’m the only one they’re screwing over.  Which is of course why I talk about how they’re basically screwing over anyone who isn’t rich.  But never mind.  At least he didn’t attack my atheism.  And in defence of the never going out thing, given he’s like the only friend I have in this town, who am I supposed to be going out with exactly?  My imaginary boyfriend?  Perhaps he just threw that one in to rub in the fact I have no social life, whereas he does.  Good for him I say.  And yes, I might be a little jealous of the fact he has more of a life than I do.  At least I admit it though.  And I am of course hoping that I manage to make some more friends when/if I find a job.

So, we’re at this impasse then.  I don’t think I’m going to be able to perform a personality transplant, so I’m not sure we can remain friends.  And I wish he would try and understand my viewpoint on this.  Perhaps he’s just being a bastard.  He’ll probably take everything he’s said back later.  In which case the question is do I forgive him for the sake of keeping the peace and just wait for the next time?  Or do I put my foot down and say we only talk when it concerns The Child?  And now I’m torn again.  I only made the attempt at friendship in the first place because of The Child.  Grrr.  I wish life was more simple.

Hairy Tales and Nursery Crimes

I’m so happy right now!  I purchased a new CD for The Child.  It’s been ages since I got her a new CD, but this one’s very special as I loved it myself as a child.  Hairy Tales and Nursery Crimes.  I really hope she loves it as much as my sisters and me once did.  She’s been a bit under the weather though lately, suffering from cold after cold, so I figured she deserved a little pick me up.  And it’s one I won’t mind being subjected to too much.  So much better than the Zingzillas anyway.  In my opinion at least.  I’m sure there are some who would disagree.  Namely those who think the fairy tales we were subjected to as children were too scary or something.  To be honest though, I never had a problem with the wolf in Red Riding Hood eating the grandma and then getting cut open at the end by the dad.  But then again I was the kid who was totally disappointed with Jaws.  It just wasn’t gory enough for me.  Oh well.

And I feel I must confess that I let the guitar practice slide last week.  In the course of the week my nails grew to ridiculous lengths, but they are now under control and I am determined to get back on track with the guitar practice.  After all, if I ever want to be able to play anything I must practice.  I’ll keep telling myself that.  But I will be busy writing essays over the next fortnight.  At last I’ve decided what I’m going to do for my final 3000 word essay.  Something about treating depression with cognitive behaviour therapy.  It’ll be fun.  Hmm.  At least when it’s all done I’ll have a university foundation award under my belt, and should be able to go on the foundation degree course whenever I can afford to.  As long as it’s within the next ten years anyway.  We’ll have to see.  And I do have to pass the last two modules of course.  Fingers crossed.

Hobbies

I find the hobbies section of application forms, and in CVs tricky.  I don’t know why really given that I do have hobbies.  I read.  I attempt to write stuff.  Sometimes I try to draw.  I listen to music.  I try to teach myself guitar, and I like going for walks.  All of those are hobbies.  At least I think they are.  So why don’t I like to talk about these things to people?

Well, people always want to know what I write.  Basically I write silly stories that are for my eyes only.  I like to get ideas/daydreams of mine down on paper.  Or into a word processor.  They are rubbish, so I will never let anyone else read them.  I tend not to tell people about this blog though, ‘cause again I’m somewhat uncomfortable with people I know knowing my innermost thoughts.  Not that I post my innermost thoughts really.  I kind of hint at them though.  And occasionally I attempt to make a point or something.  Anyway, I don’t really like to share my writing with people.  And to frank, I don’t think it’s the kind of thing prospective employers care about anyway.  Unless I’d be slagging the job off or something online.

Reading I suppose is a good one to mention as it suggests a desire to learn.  Perhaps anyway.  I suppose it depends what you like reading really, but as I read non-fiction stuff as well as fiction, I suppose maybe my desire to learn would show through.  I hope so anyway.  I love books.  I could live in a bookshop.  I need more bookshelves again actually.  Hmm.

The drawing is another one I tend to not mention.  Actually I tend to even forget about it.  I almost forgot to put it here.  My drawings are just silly childish cartoons, so not really worth mentioning at all.  And people might get the wrong idea and think I try to draw more worthwhile things.  Hmm.  Nope.  Just cartoon spiders and fish:

I suppose I would say I like to try and be creative.  I’m not particularly good at the creative stuff, but I do try.  And I enjoy it.  Even if I’m not very good.  And in my defence regarding my juvenile drawings, I have been drawing those characters since school.  And I’ve branched out a bit.  I stick to the cartoony things though.  Much easier.  And The Child likes them.  She likes it when I attempt to play my guitar as well.  And given that she’s such an outdoorsy type of child, she’s not too averse to the walks either. 

The coast does actually provide some nice scenery for walks actually.  When it’s not packed out with tourists that is, such as those who mistake the cliffs for hills and such.  And when it’s not too grim weather wise.  It’s miserable right now though which means a day inside.  I should be doing housework really.  Joy.

Worried

Ok, I’m seriously beginning to worry about myself.  There are many reasons for this, and I don’t care if it seems that I’m a bit self centred here.  Is it really self centred to be worried about yourself?  I don’t really think so.  Anyway, yeah, I suspect I really should get out more.  Of course, living miles from any of my friends that can be a bit difficult.  Perhaps I should move.  Of course in order to move I’d need money.  I’d also need to make sure I was moving somewhere that was in the catchment area for a half decent school.  It would need to be affordable for me on LHA as well, which given my LHA allowance is being dramatically reduced this month could be tricky.  And now I’ve reminded myself that I’m going to be twenty pound a week worse off.  Joy.  And I still haven’t managed to get a job.  Joy.  I wish the government could find a way to actually make it easier for people in my position to get work, rather than just make it more difficult for us to live on benefits.  I don’t want to be living on benefits for the rest of my life.  I hate having to rely on benefits.  I’d love a job.  It’d get me out of the house more.  And I still haven’t heard from any other volunteer places.  I still only have the one volunteer job.  And they don’t need me in that often.  And it’s only Saturdays anyway.  Grrr.  So, yeah, I’m worried about myself a bit there too.  Money, work, getting out and stuff.

The biggest reason I’m getting worried though is the amount of time I’m spending online these days.  Though I do have this growing need to escape reality.  Now, I’m not sure if it’s reality that’s doing for my sanity or the amount of time I spend trying to pretend real life isn’t real.  I used to think it was the books and the music keeping me sane.  But now I spend an inordinate amount of time on fan forums and various websites.  I need my fix of the various bands I’m into.  Rammstein in particular.  I really am worried I’m going insane.  Actually I’m not.  I was insane already I think.  I mean, what’s normal these days?  And I’m not hurting anyone really.  Except maybe myself.  But it makes me happy.  For a little while anyway. 

So yeah, I’m a little worried.  But I guess it could be worse.  I wouldn’t be online nearly so much if I had something better to do.  And before the benefit bashers think I should be busy job-hunting instead, thanks to numerous job-hunting websites, I can job-hunt at the same time as all the other stuff.  Doesn’t make any more jobs I can apply for magically appear though.  Grrr.  Though perhaps next week will be better.  Perhaps the perfect job is just around the corner.  Or perhaps I’ll suddenly start writing something half decent.  Perhaps I’ll write something that doesn’t make me cringe and become a successful author.  Yes, dreamland is much better than real life.  Into my head I disappear again.  Yay.

And yes, that was a bit of a pointless post.  But I don’t really care.  Made me feel better.

Breast Feeding

I think I must be kind of lucky.  Well, actually I am also sort of unlucky I guess.  With the whole breast feeding thing that is.  I am lucky in that I was completely unexposed to all the anti-breastfeeding stuff out there.  I can only assume it’s not actually as prevalent as some people would imply?  Ok, so I never actually breastfed outside of the hospital, so I didn’t get any looks or comments.  I never came across anything in any pregnancy/parenting magazines.  In fact, what I was exposed to was totally pro-breastfeeding.  I did come across a lot of anti-formula feeding information though, and when I found myself unable to breastfeed (though not for want of trying) I felt incredibly guilty.  I also felt incredibly judged when getting the bottle out in public.
Now, I have no problem with people going on about the benefits of breastfeeding.  It is after all the best possible thing to do.  I’d have done it if I could have, and I really did try.  My own body was against me there though.  And I even tried the milking machines.  I just couldn’t get anything out of there.  I had no let down reflex, or whatever it is.  It’s been so long now I can’t really remember.  Anyway I’m writing this now because I have recently read loads of comments laying into formula feeding, and those who choose that method.  I wish these super mums could maybe be a bit more sensitive.  Not everyone who formula feeds chose that method initially.  Ok, yeah, some may not have wanted to even attempt to breastfeed (and if I’m being totally honest, I can’t understand why someone wouldn’t give it a try), but lots of us have tried, and due to biological, and possibly even psychological reasons,have not been able to.  The last thing we need is people laying into us, telling us we have failed our children or that we’re bad mums.  Yes breast is best and all that.  You’d have to be an idiot not to know that.  But please be a little sensitive hey?  Not all of us are as perfect as you are right?  So go and be perfect somewhere else.  Or at the very least accept that some of us are far from perfect.

A Brief Respite

Well, The Child is back at school so I am enjoying an empty house once more.  It’s so peaceful.  I can get a cup of tea and drink it with no interruptions.  I’ve managed a whole chapter of my book.  In one go.  Without losing my place.  It’s heaven.  Or would be if I weren’t now bored.  Just one week playing slave to The Child and I’m feeling a bit lost.  I can do what I want.  I have total freedom.  It feels so alien.  But it is a brief respite.  The summer holidays are almost upon us.  I can barely survive a week alone with The Child.  How will I survive six weeks?  I managed it last year, but she was younger then, less demanding possibly.  Then again perhaps she was more demanding then.  I don’t remember.  I guess I’ve just blocked out the memories.  Repression perhaps.

So, this morning I’ve had three giant cups of black coffee.  I’ve had my breakfast.  I’ve done a job search, which proved fruitless.  I’m not qualified to be a chef.  And that was the only job that’s come up since Saturday, when I last did a job search.  So, I’ll check again tomorrow then.  Anyhow, I’m wondering what else I can cram in, so as to avoid doing the essay.  I know I need to do the essay really.  I shouldn’t leave this one until the last minute.  The last time I did that, and the time before, I regretted it immensely.  But I’m the queen of procrastination.  Perhaps I’ll do it after lunch.  It is only 1,250 words after all.  Oh, and the 750 words essay about my personal development since starting the course.  I’m more sure of what I want I think now actually, but given I’m kind of stuck knowing what I want is actually not a good thing.  In my opinion anyway.  Yeah, I have something to reach for, but knowing I’ll probably get there is making me wonder what the point is.  Yes, I need to look at my CBT notes again.  There is a point.  I’m just being miserable again.  Joy.

So, I have a brief respite from the school holidays.  I am dreading them.  I need something to make me feel better.  Perhaps I could construct an angry letter to a certain person.  If I write it on paper, then I won’t accidentally send it.  I can get all my thoughts and feelings down, and then rip it to shreds.  That might feel good.  And then I might get my guitar out.  And then I might think about starting this essay.  Sounds like a plan.  Wow, I actually have a plan.  Woohoo.

Now I’m Not Totally Serious, But …

I’ve been thinking that fictional men are the way to go.  They don’t break your heart, and can be there whenever you want them.  They exist in your head alone, so can do whatever you want them to.  They’ll never leave you for someone else.  They’ll never suddenly inform you that their wife is pregnant.  Unless you want them to of course, but I doubt anyone would want that to be honest.

Anyhow, I am aware that that sounds a bit insane, hence me not being totally serious.  That and the fact that if I do ever meet anyone I feel is worth my time the whole fictional man thing will go out the window.  But anyway, for the time being I’m going to enjoy my books.  I’m going to try and forget about the real men in my life who have done nothing at all to restore any faith I may have had in members of the opposite sex.  I’m sick of being humiliated and taken for a fool.  I am still completely mortified that I managed to get into The Situation at all. 

So yeah, fictional men.  Is it really wrong to fall for someone who exists only on paper and in your head?  Really?  And I far from ashamed to admit my ‘thing’ for Tyrion Lannister from Game of Thrones.  Intelligence, it’s certainly something I like in a man.  Height is less of an issue for me.

Self Discipline

I don’t have much in the way of self discipline.  I think this is my problem.  It’s why I’m so rubbish at teaching myself things.  Like guitar.  I need more self discipline if I’m ever going to get anywhere near adequate on the guitar.  Anyway, where I could really use some self discipline at the moment is with this essay I have to write for next Wednesday.  Actually I kind of have two essays.  Anyway, I will start them this weekend.  I will.  And who knows, I might even finish them this weekend too.  With a little bit of self discipline anyway.  Hmm.  But seriously, I need to read the CBT notes again so I can reteach myself all the things I’ve learned so I can try and make myself somewhat saneish (as it’s not a real word I’ve no idea whether to leave the ‘e’ in or not) again.  I’m dwelling on things again, and that’s completely pointless.  Now I remember reading some pretty nifty quotes during the past few weeks.  There were of course the pithy slogans as well.  And that’s not CBT, that’s solution focused therapy.  The pithy slogans bit that is.  I’m pretty sure the quotes I liked were relating to the cognitive behavioural stuff.

So, now I could ask myself the miracle question.  If all my problems went away while I was sleeping tonight, how would I know when I wake up in the morning?  Hmm, I’ve no idea.  I might know what my problems are, but I’m not sure that I know what the ultimate solution is.  See, I totally overthink stuff.  The miracle question doesn’t work for me.  One of my problems is unemployment, but the solution to that won’t make me happy.  I don’t want to be a waitress.  Yes it’ll be a job, and I have applied for some waitressing jobs, but I wouldn’t be happy.  I suppose my miracle question answer would be that I have a job as a counsellor.  Realistically though this will probably never happen.  So what’s the point considering it right now?  Grrr.  And now I have no idea where I was going with this post.  It doesn’t have much to do with self discipline I guess.  Or maybe that’s it, I need to teach myself not to overthink things, and then maybe the miracle question will work, and I won’t be too cynical and stuff.  Hmm.  I really wish I could understand my mind more, how I come to the various conclusions I do about things.  And seriously, I come to many conclusions about the same thing.  Monday’s Facebook message for example.  Why was it sent to me?  I’ve considered many different possibilities.  Of course I could ask the sender, but that’s not going to happen.  I’ve taken on board enough of the things we’ve covered in counselling to know that would be a bad idea.  Don't chase things that you can’t achieve.  You’ll just feel a failure, or worse.

So I guess I have some self discipline after all.  I just need more.  Or is that greedy?  Can one have too much self discipline?  Now there’s a question.

Ok, so here’s my answer to the miracle question.  How will I know if all my problems are solved?  Well, I’d be sleeping well for one thing.  I’d wake up actually feeling relaxed and rested.  That would be nice.  No stress.  No worries.  I’d feel happy.  Like this:

Instead of like this:

Babies

The Child is obsessed with babies.  I’d put it down to just a phase or something.  At the worst I assumed she’s one of these girls who go mushy over anything cute (something I too can be guilty of on occasion).  But now I’m not so sure.  We had the most surreal argument yesterday.  Basically she ended up in a huge (and I mean huge!) sulk over the fact that I’m not going to have a baby.  And this was without explaining that I don’t ever want anymore (probably).  Now she wanted to know why I’m not having a baby.  I wasn’t entirely sure what to say.  I’m single and you need a bloke?  Not strictly true if you really want a baby, what with the sperm bank and stuff.  But I really didn’t want to go into the whole hideousness of pregnancy and childbirth.  And yes I’m aware that I’m unlikely to get pre-eclampsia as bad the second time round if I get it again at all, but the one and only time was enough to put me off.  I was not one of those glowing women.  I wanted to be, but let’s face it, it’s just not for me.  And I’m not really a baby person either.  I’m still trying to find my maternal side too.  I love The Child to bits.  She’s wonderful, perfect, gorgeous, and a royal pain in the backside.  How do I explain that as much as I love her, the thought of another is like a waking nightmare?  I can’t do that.  So I just put up with the sulk.  But today’s she going on about babies again.  I’m worried we’re straying into dangerous territory here.  Too many of her friends have baby brothers or sisters.  The big question’s lurking, I can sense it.  I just hope we manage to avoid it for now.  Joy.

Dongles

Being a bit on the penniless side, I have one of these top up dongle things for my internet as I then don’t have to fork out for a phone line.  I have a mobile which I hardly use for anything other than texting.  I don’t need a house phone.  Notice that I’m also hopeless with the appropriate terminology for these things.  I remain a hopeless technophobe.  Maybe that’s another reason I’m not such a fan of kindles and stuff.  Anyway, back to dongles.  It was working well for me until a bit over a month ago, give or take the odd bad phase.  Anyhow, for the past month or so I have been more or less unable to get a decent connection.  I can waste great amounts of time just trying to log out of things.  I somehow always manage to log in, it’s once I’ve logged into things, such as Facebook, that the trouble starts.  Maybe I should stick to pages without pictures and that I don’t have to log into either.  My dongle doesn’t like pictures either.  Pictures and logging out of things.  I don’t like dongles very much at the moment.  Of course it could just be the recent random weather playing hell with the whole signal thing, but I don’t know.  I still don’t like dongles very much at the moment.  To be fair though, I don’t like much at the moment.  I still like guitars though.  Perhaps I should rename this post guitars and just write endlessly about my love for guitars.  All guitars.  And there are many types of guitar.  I love guitars.  And now I’m happy again.  Until I try to publish my post that is and my internet decides to give up on me again.  Hmm.

The beautiful Fender Stratocaster.  Then again I am a bit biased for I own a Strat myself.

More Joy

I made the mistake of going into town today, and boy was it fun.  All I needed was detangling conditioner for The Child.  And weed killer.  Unfortunately I was so pissed off with the insane people I forgot the weed killer.  Now I need to go back to town.  Joy.

The Child is one of those people who gets weepy when someone dies in a film.  I officially feel awful.  If I’d known she’d get so upset I’d never have put on Charlotte’s Web.  She was really enjoying it though until the spider died.  Oh dear.  It wouldn’t have been so bad, but she really burst into tears.  I’ve never seen her so upset over something like that.  In fact I’ve never seen her so upset over anything other than her hurting herself, being ill, or being told off.  We had a big cuddle though and that helped a bit.  I’ll be more careful in future, though I was never really so affected by stuff like that as a kid.  I certainly wasn’t prepared for the crying.  A tear or two perhaps, but the full on bawling her eyes out?  No.  Bad mum.  Oops.  At least she’s over it for now.

And why is it when you think you’re all sorted and over something, it resurfaces and manages to make you feel like crap all over again?  Grrrr.  I hate Facebook once more.  Joy. 

So there we are, the bank holiday continued to be full of joy.  Roll on summer.  Yay.  Or not.

But I have my continued obsession with Richard Kruspe to keep me happy, so all is not lost.  Music and a good book is all I need.  And perhaps a good cup of tea.

Picture found at the Rosenrot fan forum.

Bank Holiday. Joy

I’m not a fan of bank holidays.  In fact I’m not a fan of holidays full stop.  Unless it’s a holiday for me.  But personally I find holidays a pain.  My town fills with brainless imbeciles who turn the most basic of food shops into a nightmarish hell.  The Child doesn’t have to go to school which means I have to find ways to keep her entertained while trying to keep the house from sinking into new levels of hellholeness.  It’s not fun.  It’s stressful, and to be blunt, it all but turns me into an axe-wielding psychopath.  But maybe I’m over-reacting.

At least when the long weekend’s over all the flags and bunting will disappear.  It’s not that I’m completely unpatriotic, it’s just that I don’t want it rammed down my throat.  I’m also not exactly proud to be British.  When something gives me a reason to be proud to be British I’m sure I will be, but when I know what we Brits are famed for in certain foreign circles, I just cringe a bit.  Hmm.  What have we done as a nation that’s pretty brilliant lately?  I’m not aware of it whatever it is.  But I am pretty ignorant I have to confess.  I can’t bear to pay too much attention to the news these days.  It just depresses me.  But the knowledge that soon trips to Sainsbury’s with The Child shall not be accompanied by a running dialogue of how many flags or lines of bunting we’ve passed cheers me up immensely.  Oh how I can’t wait for it to be over.  I’ll only have the Olympics to grumble about then.  That and the general crapness that is British summer.  In a seaside town.  Joy.

Down

Well, the sun’s shining again, so the fact that I’m feeling rather down this morning is a bit strange.  Sun usually perks me up a bit.  I’m probably just tired of course.  Then again the latest news regarding government plans for those on JSA might have something to do with that.  I’m also feeling rather lost I think.  There’s a definite sense of loss anyway, and I refuse to believe it still has anything to do with The Situation.  I’m sure I’m over that now.  For the most part anyway.

Oh, and I’d love to know how the soaring unemployment in the North East is good news exactly.  Silly Tories.  And that’s putting my feelings there mildly.  Grrr.  I am trying to stop being so gloomy, honest.  But it’d be easier if either I could get a job, or people could stop being wankers about the fact that some of us (make that a lot!) are struggling to find jobs despite applying for loads.  Ok, so I haven’t applied for loads yet, but I have only been looking for a few months.  And I’m still not so desperate that I’m actually saying, sod The Child, I will be willing to work anytime during a twenty-four hour period.  People need to bear in mind that some of us are restricted by childcare needs.  I could be wrong, but I’m not sure that there is any twenty-four hour childcare available around me.  And I wouldn’t want to use it if there was.  Grrr.

So, according to Ed Davey the record unemployment is good news.  That’s great to know.

At least I have music and books to help me escape reality for a while, because at times reality really gets me down.  And as I don’t really have any control over my job situation, I’m feeling pretty helpless and lost.  I wish we could have a bit more support, rather than the endless judgements, and idiots tarring us all with the same brush.  Not all single mums are chavs who got pregnant only so they could get a council house and not have to work.  In fact I haven’t met anyone like that at all.  Grrrr.

And yes, I am aware that this is yet another random, nonsense post.  I just need to get stuff off my chest I guess.  Makes me feel a bit better though.  As does wasting valuable job search time watching David Mitchell rants on YouTube.  Fun.

Some People

I’m going to have to ban myself from going on some forums for the minute I think.  Some provide me with far too much, and very alarming, information regarding the government’s plans for scroungers like myself.  Of course, I’ll once again ignore the degree and the fact that I’m job-hunting while still on income support.  Anyway, back on track, these same forums also expose me to the views some scary pro-Tory people have regarding scroungers like myself.  Now I’m past the upset panicky phase I’m thinking a bit more rationally.  I do not know these people.  They don’t know me.  Their opinions don’t matter to me.  They shall not affect me at all.  Ok, so the government's opinion may well affect me, but that’s not the point.  Anyway, given the way some people talk about the likes of myself, I’m surprised they aren’t proposing banishing us all to some ghetto somewhere.  Seriously, it’s as though we’re the complete scum of the earth.  And naturally all the current financial problems are our fault.  Grrr.  So, like I said, I’m not so upset anymore.  I wish I could completely ignore it though, but unfortunately given I’m only human (yes evil pro-Tory people, we are human!) it does get to me.  I try not to judge people.  I try to be tolerant.  I guess some people just like to treat the less fortunate like rubbish.  Perhaps it makes them feel more important or something.  Wankers.  Well, for all those people who would argue I’m scum of the earth for leaving The Ex and claiming benefits, I’m just going to say, at least I didn’t marry the wrong person (yet).  At least I’m happy with how my family life is at the moment.  So, I might not have the career I’m wanting (due to being unable to train), but at least I’m generally pretty sorted as a person.  And my daughter is bloody amazing too.  Let’s not forget a child is a lot happier when their parents are happy too.

And not everyone in my position is here because they chose to leave a miserable relationship.  Some have been widowed.  Where is peoples’ compassion?  Oh yeah, the majority don’t do compassion.  Or tolerance.  I hate this country sometimes.  Ok, I’m going to be honest and say I just hate some people.  Not everyone.  There are some pretty cool people out there actually, and I’m fortunate enough to know some of them.  But the majority are crap.  At least I’m not one of them though.

And on that note I need to cheer myself up.  A picture of Richard Kruspe courtesy of the Rosenrot fan forum:

Yes, I am aware I need a life.  But this man makes the one I’ve currently got so much more bearable.  Yay.

Problem Island

We did a little exercise in counselling this week.  Basically we had to think about what things we would banish to Problem Island, and what things we would place on our Perfect Island.  It might not have been Perfect Island, but I can’t think of what else it might have been.  It doesn’t really matter anyway.  But the point of this post is that it got me thinking about what things in my life I would do away with if I could, and what I really want to achieve.  So, things I would banish to Problem Island are as follows:

• the current government
• the jobcentre (or the people working there who treat me like crap because I chose to be a mother to my daughter.)
• anyone who tries to make me feel like crap for being a mother to my daughter.  I don’t try to make them feel like crap for paying other people to bring their kids up for them (And there I go with the judgemental language.)
• violence
• crime and other obvious things
• David Cameron (Ok so I know he’s a member of the current government, but I dislike the man that much he deserve his own bullet point.)
• The Family
• pollen
• money

I’m sure there are plenty of other things, and of course I’m not really being serious.  The exercises was more about recognising stresses in our lives really.  I guess my major stresses are the government and money.  Without the need for money I might be able to get my counselling degree.  And without the government, sure there’d be anarchy and stuff, but there wouldn’t be all this anti-family legislation being pushed through. 

Now, on my perfect island I would have as follows:

• music
• books
• I’d be able to write well, and maybe even become a novelist
• I’d be able to play guitar
• The Child would be happy
• we’d have a nice decent house
• I’d live near my friends, and therefore have a social life
• I’d be able to get my counselling degree
• there’d be flowers without pollen
• I’d have a good job that I’m good at and enjoy (such as counselling.)
• men wouldn’t be complete twats
• I’d be happy

And I’m aware my list isn’t that impressive.  And I didn’t really go down the love route.  But I guess I’m still not entirely trusting of love and stuff.  In my experience love comes right before being screwed over.  But what do I know?  I’m still naive and haven’t done much living and stuff.  Oh, and on my perfect island, grabbing someone’s bum in a bar is not an acceptable way to get their attention if you want a dance.  Such action will see you banished to Problem Island.  Though that admittedly hasn’t happened since March.  So I’m adding sexism to Problem Island I guess.  Feminism is not needed on Perfect Island of course. 

So I kind of know what I want from life, and marriage and babies still aren’t it.  Happiness for me still revolves around music and books.  Yay.  And counselling too.  Here’s hoping I do get the chance to do something about that.

Intelligence

Well, The Child was definitely in suck up mode earlier.  And yes, I confess I might have caved and bought her a little something on the way home from school.  To be fair though it’s been a while, and she really was being adorable.  And it was only dried apricots.  Anyway, as we were leaving school she announced that she’s the cleverest person in the whole world.  Now she is very intelligent (in my opinion, and her teacher’s), but she was exaggerating there a bit I think.  She also told me that I’m the cleverest mum, which is definitely not the case.  Again, I can be pretty smart at times, but I’m hardly a genius.  And I’m guilty of having very frequent blonde moments.  However, despite the obvious manipulation going on there, I was somewhat flattered there.  But I don’t care if she was only after apricots, she was being so sweet, bless her.  And she’s clearly clever enough to have figured out that the best way to get what she wants is to flatter me.  Oh dear.  I might need to try and change that.

Self Discovery

If someone had told me back at the beginning of January what an eye opener this counselling skills course would be, I’m not sure I would have believed them.  I was pretty sure I knew myself as well as I could really, but now I know this is not the case.  The change in me over the past few months has been huge really I think.  I’m not sure if it’s so obvious to my friends or family, but I have noticed.  I’m generally feeling more confident, though perhaps not enough yet to make a huge impact on my life.  I certainly had the confidence to stick up for myself when that charity bloke came round the other day though.  Back before I started this course, I’d probably have signed up for the charity thing, only to have to drag myself down to the bank at a later date to cancel the direct debit.  Now I’m determined to stand my ground where I feel it’s right to do so.

I need to start drawing again though.  If I’ve rediscovered my desire to learn the guitar and to write, then today’s lesson may just have kick-started my need to draw.  I need to get creative again, like I used to be.  I don’t want to be bogged down in the whole ‘single-mum, scrounger’ persona I’d kind of started wearing.  Though I never did truly consider myself a scrounger.  I’m not.  I just wanted to be there for my daughter before she started school, while not having a partner to live off.  And I’m pretty sure I’ve now made it sound like I disapprove of stay at home mums who do have partners.  I obviously don’t disapprove of them.  I’m using judgmental language again.  I guess I’m so used to people talking negatively about stay at home mums, single or otherwise.  I need to change that. 

But anyway, I’ve kind of been on this journey of self discovery lately, and it’s been very enjoyable.  I really don’t want it to be over, and now I have another reason to be gutted I can’t go on to do the degree.  Grrr.  Still, it gives me another reason to be determined to get there one day, hopefully in the not too distant future.  It’s another motivating factor, and I think that’s something that has been missing from my life since uni.  Motivation.  But now I have it again.  Yay.

Charity

I’ve always been a thrifty kind of person.  I hate the kind of insecurity that comes from having literally no money, and I have been there so I know what I’m talking about.  Anyway, bearing in mind that The Child and I are on the verge of being in a position where literally every penny shall count, I don’t consider myself in a position to give much to charity.  I know The Ex hands spare change to the child to put in various donation boxes, and I’ll buy the odd breast cancer pin or keyring there.  I do like to do a bit, even if it is very little.  But I’m not in a position to give monthly donations to whichever charity happens to knock on my door first.  And I don’t appreciate people coming to my door to ask.  I am one of those people who will hurry past them in town with my face to the ground.  And I always (well almost always) feel guilty for not being better off and able to give money.

Anyway, while I generally respect charities and the work they do, I actually felt angry yesterday when someone came to my door asking me to sign up to give monthly donations.  It’s not so much that he came to the door, it had more to do with the not taking no for an answer.  And I’m really not kidding.  Most people will back off as soon as I mention my situation.  This guy didn’t.  I practically had to tell him we’re potentially on the verge of being homeless unless I can hang onto every spare penny we have coming our way.  Actually, I did do that.  And he still wouldn’t back off.  At first I felt the usual guilt (I have such a complex), and then I just felt angry.  I managed to keep my cool, but it’s really not fair.  I said no, and I was polite about it.  Admittedly, in the grand scheme of things eight pounds a month isn’t much, but for The Child and me it could very soon make a difference.  I’ve already cut out most non-essentials in the hope of saving money for when our LHA is reduced.  But this guy was having none of it.  I eventually managed to get rid of him by putting my foot down, but I am not in a position to back down here.  Depressingly enough I actually can’t afford it.  And I am being honest when I say if I could afford it I would.  Well, I’d be more inclined to anyway if I wasn’t pressured into it.  But there’s the thing, most decent people would give if they could afford to without needing to be browbeaten into doing so.  At least I hope they would.  Or maybe I’m being too naive and optimistic again.  Hmm.

I’ve Been Thinking

I’ve been thinking about the sex ed issue again.  Ok, so I can understand why some people might have an issue with kids knowing about it.  That’s assuming they’re concerned about the sexualisation of children that seems to be common place these days.  I think it’s insane by the way, especially given all the heightened concern over paedophiles and everything.  We don’t want our kids to be abused, so why dress them up like mini prostitutes?  I’m assuming the bulk of us don’t do that however.  Then again, the fact that padded bras for children are still in shops means someone must be buying them right?  Anyway, as I said before, I’ve been thinking.

I suppose the bulk of people who are opposed to children under nine (and some people seem to think nine’s too young!) learning about sex are concerned that the knowledge will make them want to go out and do it.  I don’t agree with that.  In most cases anyway.  As I said in a previous post on the subject, I learned about it when I was only six, and I was pretty grossed out to be honest.  Being a pretty mature six year old I handled the knowledge well though I suppose.  I told no one what I knew, and pretty much forgot about it until I was older.  Anyway, I suppose the point I’m making here is that most kids will be grossed out or something.  Not every child’s going to want to try it.  Hopefully none would, but the fact that some might can’t be discounted.  Anyway, once again I argue that ignorance doesn’t really help.  In fact in a lot of cases ignorance is the problem.  And if I go on I’m at risk of repeating myself.  If I haven’t already that is.  Anyway, I am totally for being open and honest with children in this area.  I am against sexualising children though.  I certainly won’t be dressing The Child up in padded bras, make-up and mini skirts.  She can do that herself when she’s old enough to make decisions like that for herself.  I won’t be encouraging it before her teens anyway.  And I probably won’t be encouraging it then either.

CBT

It was really great starting the module on CBT in my counselling skills course today.  Admittedly I am a wee bit biased towards this therapy as this is the one that helped me a lot a while back.  Though I’m sure I’d have found other approaches useful, I know this one helps me.  For a start it challenges the way you look at things, which is very useful for me given I tend to take things very personally when I really shouldn’t.  So, I guess more personal growth is on the horizon over the next three weeks.  Yay.  And I’m being serious there.  I’m really positive about this module.  Despite the fact I’m pretty certain I stuffed up this last essay.  Though maybe that’s my faulty thought processes at work there.  Hmm.

Actually I know it’s definitely a good day as I’ve no desire to go anywhere near any computer games.  Yay.  I’ve got my guitar out again too.  Perhaps I’ll even start on the diary again soon.  I’ve avoided that for so long now.  I need to make myself see things in a more positive light.  I know it’s not easy, but it’s not impossible.  I just need to focus.  Time to look at some of my notes about CBT again then.

When Things Are Bad

When things are bad I regress.  To be honest I suspect most people do really.  Anyhow, I tend to regress back to my teens I think.  I listen to music almost obsessively, start playing The Sims a lot, and basically do anything I can to escape reality.  Things have been bad lately.  I’ve been listening to lots of music, attempting to teach myself guitar once more, playing The Sims on my computer, and turning into a total Rammstein fangirl.  But when their lead guitarist looks like this can you really blame me?

He is easily one of the most beautiful men ever.  And watching him play guitar does things to me.  Who wants to be a grown up anyway?  Lusting after German guitarists is far more fun.  I shall of course grow up one day I’m sure.  Perhaps when things get a little better?  Hmm.

Am I Missing Something?

Ok, I am kind of confused.  I can only assume that I’m missing something.  I must be.  There were loads of amazing reviews on Amazon (and some very bad ones which turn out to mirror my opinion).  Magazines were raving about it, The Week included.  Now if it was one of those things that is so bad it’s actually good (like The Tudors) then I might be able to understand, but I personally think it’s just bad.  Fifty Shades of Grey is disappointing me.  It’s repetitive, and completely unbelievable.  And I’m not even a third of the way in yet.  I’m not a prude, but this book has me cringing.  The dialogue is ridiculous in my opinion.  Now, I know writing is difficult, given that I’m something of a wannabe writer.  Personally though, and I really don’t mean to be judgemental and stuff (though I know I kind of am being), but if I had written this I’d have been too embarrassed to allow anyone else to read it.  I don’t post on fanfiction forum things.  To be honest I can barely cope with the whole blogging thing and I’m a newbie to forums and stuff.  Anyway, I guess I just want to say, before my Mum told me it was rubbish, I was hoping for more from this book.  Both my Mum and me are thoroughly disappointed, and can only assume we’re missing something.  If someone can explain what, I would be grateful.  But personally I like my books a bit more believable, with characters you can somewhat sympathise with, oh and that aren’t too repetitive.  I guess there’s a reason I don’t read romance novels.  And for the record, I’ve yet to write anything I’m comfortable with anyone else reading.  I know I’m rubbish.  Though maybe I could turn that into my thing?

Sex Education

Ok, I am no expert here or anything, but I do have some pretty strong views about this.  I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently as The Child is now five and a half.  I was six when I found out about sex.  My parents didn’t sit me down or anything, and I wasn’t educated this young at school.  I read it in a book.  Bearing in mind at this point I had heard playground gossip about sex (in primary school too, shock horror!), so it wasn’t exactly like it was the biggest surprise.  Anyway, I guess my point here is that I’m confused as to why some people think ignorance is the best policy here, at least until it’s completely unavoidable.  Personally I think kids are less likely to make stupid mistakes if they are better informed.  I read something somewhere the other day where someone was getting het up about the suggestion that girls as young as thirteen should be able to get the pill at the pharmacist rather than having to go to the doctors.  The argument was kids that age shouldn’t be having sex.  No, they shouldn’t, but some will do.  And personally I’d rather The Child know what’s what and be able to get the pill from a pharmacy at that age than not, just in case.  The sex ed I received at school was rubbish.  Needless to say more than one girl had managed to get pregnant before the age of sixteen.  Oh, and while I’m having a rant here, various countries in Europe are more open about sex and stuff.  They have a younger age of consent.  Oh, and they have fewer teen pregnancies and STD’s.  Just some food for thought there.  Knowledge is power and all that.  I really hope that when The Child’s older she will feel able to talk to me about things.  She hasn’t asked me any awkward questions yet, but when she does she won’t be getting any waffle about storks or anything like that.  Sure it’ll be awkward, but I don’t want to confuse the girl.  Of course, I could be very wrong here and end up a very young grandma.  The knowledge didn’t hurt me though.  And I was only six!

So I’m a Little Mad Right Now

Facebook is evil.  Ok, so it isn’t really.  But right now I’m not feeling so well disposed towards it.  I’m more pissed off with men though.  And I know it’s not fair to overgeneralise.  But he seemed like one of the good ones.  He even told me that even though it seemed like he was being a bastard, he actually wasn’t.  And because I’m the queen of naivety, I decided to try and trust him.  Fortunately I never did truly trust him, so that when things went completely wrong, it wasn’t entirely unexpected.  It was still a shock, as in I wasn’t expecting it to end the way it did, but the end had been expected.  Actually, given my lack of trust in him, I had been sort of planning on ending it for a while.  It was something I kept putting off though in the hope that things would change.  Anyway, now I know for sure that he was a complete bastard.  I’m much better off out of it.  Yay.  And at least I can hold my head up high.  Kind of.  Of course I should have known better.  But at least I can be sure the bad feelings won’t last for long.  I’ll be over this new bit of news soon enough.  Again, it was half expected really.  I just can’t believe he really was being such a bastard.  Grrrr.

Oh and just to completely restore my faith in humanity, I’ve come to the conclusion that Matriarch really doesn’t want anything to do with The Child.  The latest attempt to get the two together resulted in Matriarch just not turning up.  Not even a phone call to say she couldn’t be bothered.  And when The Ex kicked off later on, the defence was that they (as in The Family) forgot.  Now, The Child doesn’t need relatives like that.  I know she’s best off out of it, but it still depresses me.  Oh well.  Onwards and upwards and all that.  I just wonder what will happen next.  Hmm.

Freud

Well, we started the third module of my counselling skills course yesterday.  It’s about psychodynamics, which is kind of linked to Freud.  Ok, it’s a lot linked to Freud given that it’s evolved from his theories.  Anyway, I felt like a right nerd yesterday given that I know loads about this stuff.  I always did find it easy to remember what I’d learned about Freud at uni.  His theories were so outlandish.  And they were so easy to criticise.  Even the ones that made sense.  Anyhow, I think I’m going to enjoy this module a lot, as psychodynamics basically makes use of the bits of Freud that make sense, rather than the mad insane stuff.  I hope people don’t expect me to know everything though.  At uni we learnt about Freud really.  We didn’t cover the psychodynamic method of counselling.  It is very interesting though, and I’m hoping I’ll be able to make use of it.  Ok I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to make use of it.  It’s scary how much I’m learning about myself on this course actually.  It’s proved very useful when dealing with all the crap this year has dealt me so far. 

Oh, and on a side note, I’m still keeping up with the guitar practice.  Maybe I’ll actually persevere this time.  Maybe all the self analysis stuff I’ve been doing with this course has helped me find some sort of motivation?  Or maybe certain things have just forced me to reassess what’s important to me.  Music is important to me, so perhaps I should focus on that while I still can.  I’m letting the diary thing slide though.  I’m not sure if avoiding certain issues is a good thing though.  Perhaps I should break out the diary and face the crap as well as attempt to play my guitar.  But I don’t want to push things too much.  Not that I’m making excuses or anything.  No.  Nothing of the sort.  Hmm.

Another Rant

I’m going to have another rant about The Ex.  Now, we have been getting along OK recently.  It’s been a while since he last went a bit nuts on me, and I’ve been almost comfortable referring to him as a friend.  Now, to be honest this isn’t really a huge big deal or anything.  I’m just sick of him lying to me.  And now he’s trying to get The Child to lie to me.  Fortunately she’s a bit too young still to do this on behalf of other people.  Now she’ll deny knowledge of things she’s done herself, or blame it on her toy penguins, but she won’t lie to me about what The Ex gives her for tea when he has her on Thursdays.  Now, she has this thing for egg and pasta at the moment.  To be honest, I don’t like egg, so we don’t have that at home.  It means she’s unlikely to stop eating it too.  And yes, it does sound like a very boring, uninspiring meal.  She loves it though, and it is only once a week.  It’s also very easy to cook, and cheap.  I don’t see the problem really.  So anyway, according to The Ex, they had egg and pasta for tea yesterday.  Fine.  No problem.  On the way to school this morning, The Child informs me that they actually went to McDonalds for tea.

Now, before anyone thinks I’m about to start laying into McDonalds, I’m not.  It’s fine as the occasional treat.  In fact, I’d only asked that The Ex not take her there for a while because I know he’s taken her there a lot recently.  So, I guess he lied because he thought I’d be cross?  I’d have been annoyed yes, but probably not cross.  I am cross he lied to me about it though.  But to give me credit I didn’t fire off an angry text or anything.  I sent a polite request for him to just be honest in future.  Perfectly reasonable I think.  And I know The Child wasn’t just saying things, because she said the same thing she said after telling me what she was getting me for Christmas, and for Mother’s Day.  She asked me not to tell The Ex that she had told me.  At least she’s still honest to me about things like this.  I’m just worried he’s going to turn her into a compulsive liar like the rest of The Family are.  I’m sure he won’t, given that I have a fair amount of influence, but it’s still a major concern of mine.  Oh well.

At least it was only a McDonalds though.  Could have been a lot worse.

Guitar

Well, for the first time in ages I got my guitar out.  I finally sorted out my fingernails again last night.  I’m really lazy with my nails and just leave them to grow forever.  Naturally I have to cut them right down to play my guitar.  Not that I can play it well.  Not that I can play it at all really.  I am rubbish at teaching myself things.  Maybe my motivation is the issue, but I’m not sure.  But anyway, I remembered to cut my fingernails last night, and filed them right down so I could attempt to play my guitar again.  I love my guitar.  Even when I’m not going through a guitar playing phase, it’s still my most treasured possession.  If I pass guitar shops in town (we have a couple now actually), I have to stop and look through the windows.  I don’t why, but there’s just something about guitars that draws me.  So yeah, I’m going through a guitar phase again.  I just hope I can try and motivate myself to stick at it this time.  Once upon a time I wasn’t too bad with the few chords I know.  I need to try and get back into it again.  Even if I am rubbish.

Tempting Fate?

Ok, I’m probably tempting fate here, but I am going to say that I think I might just have survived this Easter holiday.  Only one more day to go after this one.  Surely nothing can go wrong.  Then again, I said that about the year in general, and it got worse.  A lot worse.  But things might get better?  Like I might get through this holiday in one piece?  Actually, I have this awful feeling that something else will go wrong.  It’ll probably turn out that I was supposed to be at work today when I thought I had the day off.  Hmm.  Oh well.

Actually I might have tempted fate where the weather’s concerned.  It’s been rubbish since I bought The Child her new swimsuits.  We even had a mild winter after I bought my wellies.  Sod’s Law I guess.  Grrr.  Actually, the mild winter wasn’t a bad thing.  I just wouldn’t mind it being a bit drier and warmer now.  But then again, it is April.  But I shall try not to tempt fate anymore for a while.  After the nightmare of this holiday anyway.  Though I suppose it hasn’t been that bad really.  I’ve managed to avoid town pretty well.  But despite the weather, the tourists are here in droves.  They wouldn’t bother me too much if they didn’t act like morons.  Seriously.  I know I get a bit disoriented sometimes when I go back to Leeds, but town isn’t all crammed down one street there.  And the shops move around.  The only shops that move around here are the ones full of cheap tat.  And we’re talking opening up again across the road here, or a bit further down.  Not relocating to a completely different area of town.  And even at my worst moments back in Leeds, I never stand around in shop doorways.

And why does my spell checker not like the word wellies?  For some reason it wants me to replace the ‘e’ with an ‘i’?  Hmm.