It’s official… I’m crap!

So, today is generally a good day.  I’ve got a band in the house later on today, I’m off to the mother land tomorrow to see a prog-rock band and with my best friends. 

Shame an absolute pillock has to go and ruin it.  

A local news website (I’m being nice.  Other people class it as a gossip mongering site) reported that ‘Three Asian Men’ were attempting to get girls into a car.  Nothing on where – or any confirmation from the police – just some letters reportedly sent to three schools in the borough.  I stated that the headline was misleading and *could* incite racial hatred as with the Woolwich murder recently, there has been a lot of hate crime against muslim and Asian people.  

The journalist who wrote it took offence, put words into mouth and became rather rude and insultive.  He actually claimed I called him a racist.  Which I didn’t.  I stated that the headline could incite racial hatred.  Which clearly, it could.  

He then went on to block me from the page and then send me personal messages telling me that I’m a crap writer, a silly little girl, have no grasp of grammar and basically a non-entity and that I deserved all the crap I was getting from the ignorant, xenophobic, sycophantic folk who thought it’s right to target the whole of the local Asian community based on a rumour. 

What a nice, professional chap he is.  

 

What else?

So what have I been up to for the last week and a half or so other than being a clumsy cow and getting big stress hair?  Well, the answer would be, not much.

Really!  I’ve done hardly anything.  I’m trying out a new diet of two bowls of cereal a day and then a balanced and healthy meal for six days a week and a rest day.  So far, so good.  I haven’t particularly noticed any weight loss or felt any different, but that could purely be down to my period starting and being a particularly bad one (come to think of it, that probably answers why I was getting annoyed at the bands).  My stomach’s been horrendously bloated the last couple of days to the point of looking six months pregnant.  The thing is when my stomach’s bloating, everywhere else overflows as well.  So, although I am lighter than I have been in a very long time, I feel fatter than ever.  Even though I’m fitting into size 12’s, I still feel that I look like a whale.  A pregnant whale at that.

I’ve also being organising (if you can call sending out frantic Facebook messages to a few people organising) the male shaped monsters fifth Birthday none-party.  I say it’s a none-party as we’re not really having a party.  Just a couple of children we know he’s comfortable with and their parents.  The plan is to then throw the monsters outside to play while we adults escape indoors.  Although, that is weather permitting.  The problem is, is that my crazy fancy dress lady friend has donated us a Scooby Doo outfit as long as I take pictures of the hubby wearing it.  Unfortunately, he can be a bit funny around fancy dress (he hates face painting and used to scream when I emerged from the shadow with a towel on my head…  I daren’t wear makeup, it would freak him out!).  I also did order a rather over-blown Scooby Doo chocolate cake for him…  Oh well, I’m sure it will be fine.  I have no games organised and no time to organise them but it will be fine.  It will…

Tomorrow I have to go for surgery for The Horn to be removed.  I was supposed to go earlier this month but it was the same day as the male shaped monster started his new school and I had a sever case of (wo)man flu.  I could barely speak I was that bunged up.  Not really the best time for surgery to be performed on my nose.  I shudder to think of the mess…  I then have physio on the foot on Thursday and my next Zoladex injection (yuk).  On the plus side though, the radio show is having another live band in my living room – which is a lot less stressful than it sounds.  Friday is the male shaped monsters’ Birthday and Saturday is the none-party-party.

I’ve also been asked to do some work with another festival, although it’s looking less likely as the brief is very slow in coming.  I re-set up my review site in a fit of madness and I ordered some business cards in another fit of madness.  Hell, tomorrow if I’m able to feel my face after the op on The Horn, I might even do a couple of reviews!  Shock Horror!

Being Naughty

I’ve been a little bit naughty over the last few days in more than one way.  Firstly, I’ve hardly been writing, but I’ll get into why in a wee while.  Secondly, I’ve been forgetting to take my anti-depressants.

I only realised when I woke up this morning, after having to take some Amitriptyline for the Endo pain last night, that I’ve been forgetting to take my regular anti-depressant.  This isn’t particularly good.  And it answers a hell of a lot about my recent mood swings.  And why I’m dwelling on stuff I don’t need to (like the idiots who twisted my depression and turned it to something about them).  Will be getting back into my regime of taking them tonight – and trying out a new (as of yet unknown) regime to make me remember to take them all the time.
Although I’d rather not be dependent on tablets and medication, I have to face the fact that I need to be.  I get far too angry about the small things when I stop taking my medication and that is not good for me, the monsters, the hubby – or anyone else who know’s me to be honest.  When I’m on the anti-depressants, although I’m still cross about the same things, they don’t make me blow my top and I can see the balance that in all honesty it’s not that bad.  They don’t make me overly happy neither.  They just completely balance me out.  I have the strength to understand that when things are good, they’re good and when things are bad, they’re bad – but in a way that I don’t overreact.  I’ve been so bad lately forgetting to take them and it hasn’t been intentional.  I have just genuinely forgot – but now that I’ve remembered I’ve been forgetting, I should remember.

So, why haven’t been writing?  Well, I have been poorly with flu like symptoms recently, rushed off my feet with the radio show and been in agony with the endo.  Not really excuses, just reasons.  I’m in agony this morning though and have a tight chest thanks to the flu like symptoms, but I’m writing…  Well OK, I have been writing, but not the blog.  I’ve been accepted as a regular contributor for the women’s magazine (apparently, I’ll be an ‘expert’) and I’ve been doing the odd guest blog for my friends website but other than that, I’ve just not been motivated to write the blog.  Partially down to the anti-depressant issues probably, but also because not much has been happening other than what I’m always telling you about.

Oh well, more blogs later today as some things have happened this week, if I can manage not to sneeze all over the screen.

Magical Mystery Easter Hunt.

So, after Saturday’s ordeal in pain, I spent Sunday morning racing around the house throwing Easter Eggs here, there and everywhere as quickly as possible for the monsters to find.  Easier said than done, when you’re on crutches and clutching your stomach.  We then realised we had lost our Niece’s Easter Egg – and so had to pile into the car to look for a new Egg.  Again – easier said than done.  For the first time ever it appeared that every single shop, mini mart and garage had completely sold out of chocolate Easter treats.  We eventually found an overpriced Lindt Rabbit in a small Tesco’s in the back of beyond.  Off we go to drop that off, pick up female shaped monster and then go home.   By this time though – it’s nearly 12 noon – as of course the clocks went forward.

So, home we get and the monsters immediately ransack the house to find their Eggs.  I was useless as in the ensuing panic to find the Niece a new egg, I had forgotten where I had hidden the Monsters’ ones.   There was no point doing clues neither, as although the Female Shaped Monster can read beautifully, she gets over excited and does her own thing anyway.  And, besides, I was too exhausted on Saturday night to plan it properly.  While they were racing around, Mum rang asking us to find some cup-a-soup sachets for her – even though we’d told her several times that there were no major Super Markets open today – she was insistent that there was.  So, back into the car we pile as we go and find a small corner shop that was still open.

While we were at my mum’s – triumphantly holding a pack of cup-a-soup from a mini-mart, I had a bright idea.  The sun was out, there was a hell of a lot less snow around, let’s go for a drive!  Have a picnic somewhere.  I can take pretty pictures with my new shiney phone.  Off we piled back home and packed a huge (three bag’s worth) picnic.  Back into the car we get and head for the M1 for our magical mystery tour south.  Bear in mind that it was now approaching half past two…

We ended up in Oxford.

And stayed there for the night.  As you do.

On the Bank Holiday Monday, it transpired one of my friends (who lives in the same town as us) was also down near Oxford.  So, we drove (and of course, got lost) to them and had a coffee and a chat in M&S.  As you do.  It was lovely and I’d never even heard of Whitney – never mind going there…

After much debate, the hubby and I then decided to take the Monsters into Oxford itself.  After a few false turns, we eventually found a park and ride and had a look around the beautiful historic city.  Shame we disembarked from the Park and Ride in a bit of a scruffy shopping mall – where I actually had to hover over the toilet for a pee…  We then decided to take an open top bus tour.  Typically, the snow decided to return as soon as we sat down on the top deck.
An hour or so later (and practically stuck to the seat we were that cold) we went for a wander around Sainsburys to make a picnic for the journey home.  Via a de-tour around Stratford-Upon-Avon and then a massive de-tour around the Midlands as we tried to find roads that weren’t Motorways so I could have a wee drive.

By the time we got home, as exhausted as we were, I was feeling pretty upbeat.  The hubby had inadvertently set my fictional imagination off with a throw away comment and I was buzzing from the ideas whizzing around my head.  They had to sit pretty though, as I had a mammoth feature to write.  Something I was quite nervous about.
Turns out I didn’t have to be though – as the editor has just emailed me back and said it rendered her speechless.  In a good way.

Other things are happening as well.  I’m going to be blogging for the wonderful CopyCat Costumes and Fancy Dress.  Tomorrow I’m off to watch a film with my fellow Muse Freak.  My niece and nephew are coming over at the weekend with my brother.  Just next week is a little stressful as I’m having The Horn removed on the same day as the Male Shaped Monster starts his new school.

Sure, I’ll get through it though.

Back to Business

After what can only be described as a hellish Saturday night, I pulled myself together to celebrate Mothers Day yesterday.  It was a double celebration in effect, as it was also my Mum’s Birthday.  There was no way I was going to let nightmares and rude people ruin what we had planned.

After a bit of a slow morning where I received a bun off the female shaped monster and a tea bag from the male shaped monster (which he then went on to rip) as my own Mothers Day presents, we headed across town to my mums house.  Making sure that the male shaped monster had the box of chocolates in his hand, her cards were in my bag and her surprise Birthday Cake hidden securely in the boot of the car.  She was a bit stressed when we reached her as she’d been attacked by a random tin of paint – which had sploged all over her path and which she kept finding the odd spot of paint in more and more alarming places on her own being.  The clumsiness does run in my family, it would seem.

Once scrubbed clean, we ventured out, blinking into what was a very odd day in our Northern Town.  It was sunny and fairly bright.  But it was also snowing (it’s pretty much the same today to be honest).  Traditionally (in my head anyway), my Mum’s Birthday is the official start of Spring.  To find it snowing was a bit of a slap in the face.  Anyway, one of my friends has recently moved to a lovely new house and my Mum was in nosey mode.  We’d tried explaining what the house looked like and it’s layout, but it just wasn’t coming out in the right way – so we drover her to look at it.  From the car window.  As you do.

I’d booked in a lovely local pub for a meal – but couldn’t for the life of me remember what time I’d asked for.  The monsters were hungry as was the hubby, so we decided to try and see if I’d booked us in for the earlier possibility.  Needless to say, I hadn’t.  And, neither time that were possibilities were the right time.  My memory for times and things is getting worse.  Anyway, we were nearly an hour and a half early, but as we’d booked, the table had been reserved and so was free for us to go to.  We sat and ordered and though we were warned there was around a 40 minute wait for the food, we weren’t that bothered.  The pub was full to the rafters of families celebrating Mothers Day, so it was quite clear there would be a delay.  We sat and chatted and teased the monsters and my Mum, and the food came within 20 minutes.  And, it was lovely too.  When we’d finished eating, I asked the hubby to go to the cash machine and get some money out – even though we already had done.  It was to create an opportunity for him to nip to the car and smuggle in the cake.  10 minutes later he invented something else and nipped to the bar to ask them to bring the cake out.  The look on my mums face when she realised the mini fire heading to her was for her made the tiny deceit more than worth it.

We then took her out shopping and later she came back to faker towers to help the monsters create their Easter Bonnets.

Sadly, mum then said it was one of the nicest Birthday’s she’d ever had and that we’d gone over board.  We’d done no such thing.  It’s nothing to take your mum out for lunch on her Birthday and it’s certainly nothing to organise a little cake for her.  I think it was more the surprise of the cake which choked her.  She said she’d never had a surprise cake before and I think she understood how hard it is for me to keep a secret.  I’m blooming rubbish at secrets, bursting everything out as soon as I know.  I hate Christmas because it means keeping secrets and people keeping secrets from me.  Anyway, yet again, I digress.

The rest of the day passed quietly enough.  The monsters were exhausted so went straight to bed, me and the hubby watched Top Gear, then I had an endo attack and so went to bed.

Today, we’re taking the male shaped monster to his new school again – this time for him to have lunch there.  Next Monday, he’s going for the whole day – before he begins full time after Easter.  I’ve been told my three reviews for the music magazine were just what they were looking for, been requested to write another three reviews and an interview and try and get some press passes for a Festival to review that for them.  Plus, I’m interviewing a lovely lady on Wednesday for the women’s magazine and potentially interviewing another lady on Thursday for the same magazine.  So, it’s straight back into writing for the rest of the week.  I might bake a cake and cook a soup, but then again, I might not.

On The Up

The last couple of days have been great.  I mean, really great.  My confidence levels are seriously on the increase, which, naturally is worrying me now.

Yesterday, I attended an amazing PR workshop hosted by a very respected PR agent and ex-journalist.  I learnt loads of things, one of the most important ones being that so far, I’ve been doing things the right way.
Confidence boost one – right there.

Then there’s the two magazines that have been in touch with me.  Today, I’ve been given a couple of assignments (or briefs, with my journo head on) for one of them – and I’ve already secured one interview and on my way to pinning down the second.  And, for the music mag, I’ve blasted out three reviews this morning.  I’ll admit, I’m not overly happy with them.  I know I could do better.  But, it has been quite a while since I’ve reviewed bands in the way the I was asked to here.  Hopefully, they’ll like them.  I’ve been checking my inbox routinely since I sent them off, just to make sure they’ve not been sent back with a ‘who the hell do you think you’re kidding’ stamped across them.  But, the fact that I’ve got out of my rut enough to actually start writing reviews again is a good sign.
Confidence boost two and three there – in that I got the work done and I got in touch with people for the interviews and that they’re willing to talk to me.

You see, I have this thing.  I don’t believe I’m actually that good at anything, so whenever people say I am good, or compliment me in anyway, I get all a dither.  Then start thinking, nah, they can’t possibly mean that.  They’re having me on.  Setting me up for a fall for a blooming good laugh at my expense.  Rather big headed of me to actually think that people would even have the time or inclination to do something like that to me, but there you go.  I really do start to think like that.  Call it paranoia.  Call it an inferiority complex.  It’s just who I am and sadly what I’m like.
There are reasons for me being like this and I suffer from depression – but I’m working on it. Right now, I’m working on it.  This blog is really helping me get my confidence back.  Since I started writing it again last week (is that all?  Just last week?  Wow), I’ve remembered how much I love writing.  Even when it is just random waffle like this.  It’s fantastic.  I can be who I want, when I want.  I’m setting myself daily targets and making sure I hit them.  Even if it means working extra hard for a couple of days when it’s my weird weekend.

I sometimes get scared when too many things go my way.  Something, somewhere is bound to go wrong.  It’s not quite pessimism – but almost.  Something I’m working very hard to cut out.

 

 

 

Monday’s Aren’t So Bad!

I understand why so many people hate Monday.  It’s the start of the working week, the start of a long week in school.  Being closeted away in a dank place after a weekend of freedom.

I’ve always liked Mondays – not to be contraire – just because I’m a fairly positive person mostly.  I look on the bright side of things.  Think of Monday as a new beginning, a new leaf.  New chances to meet new people.  A day to set goals for the week.  When I was a student (many years ago), Monday night was one of the best nights out.  I just don’t think Monday’s are that bad in the scheme of things.  They could be more like a Friday when you’re the only person out of all your friends who still has to work over the weekend – which is a horrible and demoralising feeling.   I digress (yet again).

Yesterday (Monday) was another busy one for the faker household, especially me.  It didn’t start too brightly when we forgot the female shaped monsters guitar for her guitar lessons and although we did debate whether we could feasibly rush home and back to school with it, it just wasn’t possible.  I had a physio appointment at the hospital at a stupidly early time, meaning we had drop the monsters off and then race full speed across the town in rush hour to make it to the hospital in time.  I was actually (rather sadistically, some might say) looking forward to the appointment because there was a possibility that I would be rid of the infernal crutches.  Unfortunately, my luck was out on that one.  My foot is still swollen and painful, so I’m stuck with the sodding things for the next two weeks at least.
(I was walking downstairs on Valentines day – unfortunate, I know – when I heard and felt something snap in the back of my foot.  Basically, I’ve twisted my Achilles Tendon and damaged the ligaments around it.  Without doing anything stupid as well.  Just by walking down stairs in a normal fashion.  The physio actually said that ‘I’d done it well’.  Humph.)

After the hospital, we paid a quick visit to my friend and her Demon with the cake, who wasn’t at all bothered that it was heart shaped and had a very good chat and got some things off our chest.  We’re both clever ladies who by circumstance are stay at home mums, so we bond quite well.  Then, it was another mad dash across town to pick the male shaped monster up to visit his new school for the afternoon.

Now, I’m torn about him changing schools.  The new one has a specialised speech and language resource – which he needs – desperately.  But the one he’s at know him so well and he’s made friends there.  Admittedly, we can still keep in touch with some of the friends he’s made there as the female shaped monster is still there, but still.  He seems to understand that he’s going to be going to the new school very soon and he seems to be looking forward to it, but then all of a sudden he’ll change and cling to us.  Like he did yesterday morning.  He really didn’t want us to leave him.  At all.  It broke my heart as clung to the hubby’s legs wailing, and then tugged at my jumper wanting a cuddle (not the easiest thing to do, pick up a heavy and wriggly four year old for a cuddle when you’re on crutches).
Eventually, with a bit of persuading and the odd bit of bribery, the male shaped monster went to the Foundation Unit to go with the other children of his age on a walk in the woods.  We stayed in the resource talking to the teacher and telling her what the male shaped monster liked and dis-liked.  Something I blooming hate doing.  I always, ALWAYS go blank.  It makes me look terrible like I don’t know anything about my son.  I do.  I know him inside out.  So well, that I can counter-act a tantrum before it begins.  But expressing this is something completely different because we’re so intuitive with him.  All I found myself saying is that he’s currently obsessed with Scooby Doo.
At the end of the visit, the male shaped monster had the hugest smile on his face.  He looked like he was positively shining.  We took him back to the car and he pointed towards the school building and shouted ‘Ov’.  His way of saying he loved it.  He’s going again next Monday, this time to have his lunch there and then go and play with his peers again.  Here’s hoping that he’ll enjoy it as much as he did this time.

While the male shaped monster was at the new school, the MiL picked the female shaped monster up, so we collected her did a small shop and went home.  She was complaining of a headache, so she went straight upstairs got into her onesie, bought her quilt downstairs and went to sleep.  The hubby nipped out with the male shaped monster and I checked my emails.  And, what a shock I had.  I had an email from a new publication asking me to be a contributor – especially for unsigned music.  Ten minutes later, I had another email from an online magazine asking me to be a regular contributor for them as well.
I’ve been writing for two and a half years, with varying degrees of success and calling myself a freelancer, even though my regular publications were few and far between.  Since I started doing the radio show again and getting confident again, things seem to be happening for me.  I just hope this upward spiral continues!

I LOVE Freebies

The thing I love most about being a fake writer, is that some people do take me very seriously, and occasionally send me free things.  I get a lot of free music.  An awful lot of free music.  Most of it from unsigned artists, but some from more well-known artists.  Also I get a lot of free tickets to gigs and festivals.

As a fairly normal, well(ish) rounded human being, I love these freebies.  Based on the fact that I voice my opinion on other peoples’ art forms and passions, being sent free stuff is pretty amazing.  Of course they do it in the hope that I’ll be nice about them, but there is genuinely no need, I’m relatively nice anyway.

Now, my love of free things and not getting paid very much for my writing (hence the crisis of confidence and yesterday’s mini breakdown), meant I discovered Freecycle.  Freecycle does what it says on the tin.  It re-cycles stuff you don’t want any more for free to someone else who may be in need of it.  I’m part of a local Freecycle network, and from it I’ve got a wardrobe for the male shaped monster, a working DVD player, loads of clothes, trainers, boots, LPs, stuff for the female shaped monster and a plethora of other things.  I’ve also got rid of a load of stuff I no longer need, and made a couple of friends.  It’s amazing, but not without its drawbacks – having to wait in for people who don’t turn up for things when they said they would, giving your address out to random people…

Other than music and Freecycle, I don’t get too many other free things.  It’s a shame, because I could do with being sent loads of stuff to review, eat and review, wear and review…  I’m sure you get the gist….

Tell me why, I don’t like Fridays?

Oh joy!  It’s Friday!  The last day before the weekend.  The day of the week everyone loves  Blah-de-blah blah.  Well, just to be contraire, I don’t like Fridays.  Actually, no, I’m not being contraire.  I genuinely don’t like Fridays that much.  It’s just another day of the week to me.  One that proceeds a day when the hubby’s at work leaving me with the monsters all day because they’re not at school.  Or, in a previous life when I wasn’t trying to be fake at being a full-time writer, another normal day before being stuck in a smelly call centre with people shouting down my ear all day.

So, anyway, Friday.  After the less stressful than normal start to the day as the monster rose before 8.20 am, I showered and plonked myself down in front of the laptop.  Well, to be more precise, curled up in a ball on the sofa, put the laptop on my knee, bought up various social networking sites and Word, and then proceeded to cringe.  I have a feature of around 1,500 words to write on a headlining act for a local festival programme, and try as I might, I can not do it.  I’ve been trying for about two weeks now.  Admittedly, for the majority of those two weeks I’ve been going out of my mind trying not to itch myself to death, but still.  Yesterday, I had a mini melt down, and nearly jacked it all in.  I mean, why should I call myself a Journalist when I can’t even write a feature to my own brief?  After a few tears (well, OK, a lot of tears), tantrums and general feelings of woe, the hubby half talked me round.

This morning, after staring at Word for 10 minutes, and distracting myself elsewhere on the internet,  I couldn’t deal with it.  Deciding that part of my block could well be down to being stuck in quarantine for the last ten days, I ventured out.  Dressing in some funky Converse style pumps, jeans and a beautiful swing jacket, I blinked into the sunshine and made my way down the 100 or so yards to the local cafe.  Once there, I promptly started outlining a story centered around a dream I had last night, before promptly realising it was pretty much the same as a novel I read last year.  Instead, I had some much needed adult conversation, proved my will power is strong, drank my coffee and came back home.

Once home, I quickly sunk back into the depressive state I was in yesterday.  I surfed Facebook, looked at Twitter and played Draw Something.  I morosely stared at Word some more. Then, out of the blue, I got a craving for something sweet.  Or, to be honest, I wanted to binge on food.  Lots of food.  Luckily, I’m far too skint to go to the shop and buy a load of crap, so I decided to attempt some recipes my friend had posted on her blog.  http://middleclassvalue.wordpress.com/.  The first one that came to mind was a lovely, simple peanut butter cookie recipe and then a soup one too

Feeling quite smug that I’d found something worth while to distract myself with, I assembled the ingredients for the peanut butter cookies.   I noticed a couple of pre-packed cookie mixtures, so I decided to make those as well, just for good measure, and to impress the hubby and the monsters.  Unfortunately, while I was reaching for them, an evil bottle of red food colouring decided to attack me.  Suffice to say the result was a rather gory looking scene all over the kitchen floor, the Brother in Laws laptop, and my beautiful new jacket.  After a few deep breaths, I got on with and produced three batches of cookies.  Plain, double chocolate chip and the peanut butter efforts.   After that, I still felt somewhat, flat, so decided to make the soup.  And then, eat the soup.

My fake housewifery duties done, I returned to staring morosely at the Brother in Laws laptop, now resplendent with reddy-orange streaks on the screen where I attempted (not very well though) to wipe the evil red food colouring off. That’s when this came.  Or, well, the idea of this to be honest.

So, that’s why you’re reading this slightly weird blog.  There’ll be more to come.  If I can be bothered.