Things Are Looking Up?

The day started out as a bit of a damp squib as I couldn't get myself out of bed until 9.45am. With cat dishes to wash, ironed clothes to put away and things to think about, I had every motivation to get up and get going, yet I couldn't. I felt so heavy headed and shattered. The thing is, for many weeks I've just focused on the Adult Ed work, French and the gym, in no particular order, day in day out, week in week out, I haven't really had alot of sleep or done many chill out things. I've been quite an intense character. It was bound to get to me eventually. I sprang out of bed (as reluctantly as a spotty teenager who knows she's in for a hard time from the tutor as her assignment is half finished!) and chatted to the cleaner briefly, put the ironing away and washed the cat dishes. Wooh how exciting. Really got the ol' creative juices flowing.

What else did I do in the morning erm...checked my emails, played with the kittens, read the papers and emails, the morning flew by with a trip to look at some cat pens for a new fosterer which wasn't very productive as the pens were a bit grubby and the woman was a bit unwelcoming. On the positive side however, I got plans in motion for the Dog Show advertisement and Mum thought my Scheme Of Work for Creative Writing was something I'd devised with the help of the Internet and was pleasantly surprised when I said I just drew from my experience of Creative Writing at Uni. My friend Janine also thought it looked good. So that buoyed my mood somewhat. Can't say I was floating on cloud nine just yet but maybe about five or six. In short, the day was slowly developing from a boring caterpillar sleepily dragged out of the chryalis striving to become a butterfly of a day....what a weird old hippy I'm turning into!!

I watched Jeremy Kyle at lunchtime, went to the gym, washed my hair and then suddenly it was almost time to go to the rehoming meeting where I felt like I was being Ann Robinson at times, really speaking my mind about not being "overly happy" with rehoming to under 5s as its a huge responsibility for the parents keeping an eye on their kids anyway without bringing a vunerable furry baby or two into the home. So that was a spicy one. Chewing the fat over a woman that I had bad vibes about rehoming a kitten to as one cat had gone missing, an RSPCA cat that she had died at 8mnths old, I just thought hmmmm amongst other things.... But ever the true plainspeaking Yorkshirewoman I wasn't deterred and stood my ground. I'm finding increasingly that people respect me rather than feel freaked by it, I am learning to be more confident with how I feel about things and just go for it, if I applied my passion for animal rights to my lovelife I'd make a fantastic relationship counsellor. The trouble is, get something blonde and West Yorkshire accented with blue eyes and fishgob lips in front of me, that assured, vocal, outgoing individual becomes a shaking blob of mushyness. Tsk.

Well I wish there was more interesting things to say but I'll finish with this. I look at myself now and think you've come a long way, I'm finally finding a niche in supporting learning disabled at the Adult Ed Centre and combining that with my journalistic skills with doing the newsletter and trying to get the Creative Writing course off the ground. There's a big bad world out there crying out for a fearless character to step into the limelight and grab a piece of the action. That person is me. Its really sweet Mum keeps thinking I'm going to be here in five, six, seven years time, living in the same house, but realistically, if I get a job with Adult Ed in September or around that time and start saving up, there's every likelihood I wont, and Miss Plainspeaking won't be there to "sort out" Dad or Stu or provide a sane voice when they're driving her up the wall. On the other end of the 'phone yes, but not in person. Slight difference. I just hope my parents won't clip my wings as I'm ready to fly and meet the right guy, get the right job and enjoy life to the full.
Until next time folks...

Highs and Lows...Swinging Hot and Cold Like Spiderman Crossed With David Walliams In A Swingers Bar

What is it with me? One minute I'm happy go lucky, the next minute I'm work obsessed, scrutinising every detail like a slight pencil mark making a note look scruffy or obsessing that a not quite neatly referenced page isn't quite scribbled and labelled on enough, talking about the fishgobbed one til 2 in the morning, feeling high that he scored a goal, sense of humour's dry, the brain wet and soggy, saturated with either the S word (Smithy) or the P word (Portfolio) I'm certainly a Jekyll and Hyde character. One minute I want to write everything down in really comical, interesting terms, in the blogger, the next I think oh sod it write a few lines sign off and go to bed and then I end up spending a few minutes (what seems like an hour) over either what I'm going to say or answering IMs in between like some embattled underpaid undersexed surly secretary type. What a goddamn nerd I'm turning into.......typing up French, typing up and pickling the grey matter over constructing a creative writing scheme of work for an interview, making a cake for the weekend like a Desperate Housewife, beating the bad weather blues with tidying my room (oh my god I must be ill!) and arranging ornaments and pictures

I've been crazy - an intense doer and a thinker but with a hint of "Miss Lazy Slob" at times, one extreme to the other, one minute really alive and full of ideas, bursting at the seams to get things done, but then in the next breath struggling to wake up before 9.30, dazed, confused and more drunk than a drugged up skunk with or without alcohol - I think too much, I stay up too late and do take life way too seriously sometimes! I'm becoming a Class A nerd! I used to be a clubber, raver, going out every other Friday, the biggest thrill I get at the moment is buying clothes and seeing Alan play on TV. Borrrrrrrrring!!! Nice, but boring, after a while.I would love something crazy to happen to me. Its fantastic that we managed between Mum, Dad and I, to find a lost cat, de-tick and coax it into coming back to its new home after it escaped by accident through a window but if thats one of the highlightsof your week, coupled with a fishgobbed bloke kicking a ball into a net its a bit like god woman get a life, isn't it, really??????

Helllllllp!!!!!!! As I said to my best friend, I need to get out more! Something that doesn't involve going on vet runs, aerobics, the gym, adult ed, something a bit more uplifting and crazy. Tomorrow I'm probably going to the gym at some point and then I'm going to an RSPCA homecheckers meeting in the evening. God I'm so radical! Don't get me wrong, I have a nice life and I'm very lucky that my parents are willing to let me do the courses with Adult Ed and volunteer twice a week without getting paid, they think its good that I'm working towards a decent job and that I feel good about it. But thats the point, I do feel generally good, but life is lacking a little umph, a life force behind it, a bit. I'm getting to that point in life where people are going on about kids, boyfriends, marriage..etc etc Spider Man 3's gooey last half hour of what was otherwise a rollocking good action fest kind of made me wallow into that pit of paranoia and 'oh my god I'm 24 and collecting dust on the scrap heap, shoved in the stock room etc etc malarkey! (how people can take fidgety six and eight yr old kids into a two and half hr or so film thats pushing it to be rated 12A I don't know!! - I'm sounding like Mary Whitehouse or something aren't I? - If you don't know who that old battleaxe is, google it!) Anyway.......I shall try and blog more often but I'm all over the place a bit and lack of sleep and a lack of fun isn't helping. Sure deadlines have to be met and chores have to be completed but you've got to be free, live a little, sometimes..

Moving On Up!

Had about as much enthusiasm for life as a sloth this morning, slowly emerging from my cluttered jungle pit of crumpled bed sheets and a musky room cluttered with worksheets, football pictures and jumbled up clothes and miscellaneous items as organised and tidy as a four year old let loose on a clean carpet with brand new glitter pens.......So what was a girl to do? I trudged downstairs, sorted out the recycling basket, poured oneself a glass of water, glugged down a smoothie, turned on the TV to find out the latest gossip and made Mum a cup of peppermint tea. Washed my hair which was greasier than Terry Venables's Oak Wood varnished noggin sorry in English --- greasier than his overly tanned face ;o) The rest of the morning drifted away as I read the papers and played with the kittens.
I wasn't really looking forward to Adult Ed for some reason, I was a bit anxious as I was eager to get the Unit 2 assessment form done and wasn't sure if I'd have enough time to approach Rachel about it. As it happened, it was quite thought provoking, from the serious (chewing the fat over the assessment forms, considering Martin's offer of applying to do the PGCE and teach a creative writing course at a local school on an evening for twelve weeks in September) to the surreal (playing an alphabet game involving one learner taking away a wooden coloured alphabet letter and then the others guessing which one he'd taken away by writing it on a white board and then looking to check - I say surreal because it felt like I was playing a party game as everyone bar Jane was so jolly about it, you forget about their difficulties when you get involved in activities like this as we're all having a laugh and helping each other to learn at the same time in a more easygoing way, rather than just laboriously writing down the letters) to the sad (Jane being upset over the taxi not turning up and the IT guy being like a sargent major barking orders getting her to "sit down sit still and stop panicking!!" (don't panic Mr Mainwaring stylee rolled in with Ann from Little Britain. she just cannot cope with any change, she is so serious yet so sensitive, its really sad but believe me you would've understood why the tutor and I had to hide behind a corner as we were trying to stifle a few chuckles, she was so dramatic and bawling her eyes out. When Martin, the boss, offered to take her home she just got worse as it was another different thing..she'd been temperamental all through the session anyway and this was the final straw)

Anyway.. back to the conversation I had with Martin, basically he would like me to come up with a rough plan for 12 sessions on Creative Writing, I will then have an interview with Martin and the curriculum co-ordinator (eek!) to establish whether they think I would be professional enough and provide a thorough, detailed enough course to their liking. He doesn't think it'll be a problem that's why he's asked me but it's just something they have to go through. Of course I'm as nervous as hell conjuring up the fear I feel inside when I'm stepping inside the purgatory that is the Dentist or the lift(!) but if I think carefully, believe in myself and remember that I did a whole module on Creative Writing and passed with flying colours, at University, I write poetry, have written short stories, have regularly had published lots of football and general articles both in local newspapers and websites. So I can do it. Quite a few in my family are teachers so they'd be able to support me with lesson plans etc if I got stuck. There's every chance it may not run as these sort of things don't crop up often in this area its mainly Skills For Life, practical courses, craft courses and general courses rather than specific ones for people who just want to learn more about writing at a deeper level or a specific area of writing that they enjoy doing. I myself, funnily enough have been looking out for a course like this to do, to keep the creative juices flowing. As sometimes I do get stuck in a rut, hence why I don't always write on here or leave it alone for a while like a neglected Christmas toy that's lost its magic after a couple of weeks or so.

Been busy this evening helping Mum and Dad to move stuff into my new room, got most of my pictures up, it looks great. Yes I've got quite a few football pictures up, but theyre photographs rather than scruffily blu-tacked posters from Match or Leeds Leeds Leeds. I am trying to keep it classy I don't want to mark the walls as badly as Alan marked his entry in my little black book for signing for Man U (boom boom) There's a range of influences, from my own artwork of bright stripes, stars, numbers, symbols, far away places, to my Nana's Indian souvenirs, an oil painting by Dad's cousin of the Lakes, Al's boots, pics of he and I, old furniture, new furniture, a Tunisian carpet over ten years old brought back from holiday, a fair trade mirror, the jogging machine, two large wardrobes full of gear that make me more fab than WAG. Well I like to think so anyway.

If I were to sum up my room I'd say it's "intriguing with a little bit of everything" The walls are blue but the mood is bright with some really interesting ornaments and artefacts from Gordon Ramsay's autobiography to War and Peace, there's no doubt I'm a multi-faceted woman...thankfully not literally! I must find that picture of Alan and I, the very first one ever taken, he was 19, I was only about 17, when I look at it I feel incredibly old but it also reminds me how far I've come. I was gingery haired, shy and just finding my feet in life at 17, I'm now 24, had articles published, got involved in various organisations, here there and everywhere, gained a designer wardrobe and a colourful if a little crazy personality, slimmed down to size 6 rather than the size 10-12 I was then, have trendy short slightly peaked like a mohican light reddy brown hair, I'm myself and I like it that way. I don't ever ever ever want tob e labelled a WAG or for anyone to copy me in any way. I love being different. If I start being a sheep, please call a vet urgently!!! Al has been one of the few constant men bar my male family members, in my life, in one way or another and the old me could never have really got anywhere near him. I was ridiculous. I asked my Dad to ask him for an autograph, when he said hello to me I looked down at the floor as if I'd been summoned to see the Headmaster. Now, I feel happy, high, ambitious and up for the challenge. People are giving me more responsibilities, trusting in me, I'm gaining more personal space at home with a brand new room, a brand new start. All I need now is Mr Smith to wake up and smell the coffee and sing off the same hymn sheet as me. Hopefully not literally as I know his singing is as bad as my sewing ability! As atrocious as Leeds' defending.....

On that note..until next blog!

What makes a celebrity?

Here's a question I pondered recently. Apologies for not posting yesterday, I didn't get up while 10am and I didn't really do much bar catching up with TV, working on my portfolio and general chores. Boring huh? So you didn't miss much...

This morning I stumbled across a huge number of pictures of a certain Mr Smith on a brand new website. The thing that struck me was most of the pictures, even when he was in fancy James Bond style clobber, painted the story of a guy who, if I wasn't into football, would just be passed off as a very good looking guy but thats about it. I wouldn't think he was a star or anything. Even before I had met him, I was in awe of him because he was a footballer but I didn't think of him as famous as no one else knew him at the time and were more concerned with Michael Owen, Beckham et al. When I got to know him I saw a decent, down to earth guy who despite the rather nice BMW and bumper football contract, kept his private life to himself and even when he moved to Man U, he has never openly commented on some of the idle gossip and speculation both on and off the pitch in recent months, years etc. He was quite charming, funny and whenever he smiled, the whole room smiled with him. Alan doesn't demand huge amounts of money or attention for his charity work and appearances, he does it because, in his words, he genuinely enjoys giving something back. For me, he's not a celebrity, even now he's at Man U, hes the same old Alan, the mumbling pen pincher (he nicked my labelled - it says GP on it - permanent marker when he was about 19) with codfish lips and a hilariously spiky attitude which matches the dodgy punk hair which dissolves quicker than his blackcurrant tea when he's off the pitch, he transforms himself into a shy but twinkly eyed schoolboy type who can't tie up his tie properly and has half a sleeve or a few hairs messed up on the head. In short, he is human. Bloody hell. What a revelation. Joking.

What I'm trying to say is celebrities are people caught up in extraordinary lives and events, people who, on the whole are very well known countrywide if not worldwide for a number of things such as acting, campaigning, singing, shows, TV etc etc (not counting the Reality TV people and wannabes or even the WAGS because where would Coleen be without Wayne? Where would Posh be without Beckham right now? And vice versa in some respects actually?) To me Alan isn't one because I've grown up watching him as if through the eyes of a younger sisterly type (even though I fancy the a*se off him) I feel uncomfortable looking at some of the casual, offguard pap pics thinking I wouldn't like that, I used to have loads of pics everywhere of him at football etc but I've taken them all down. It doesn't feel very nice and I feel awkward about it. My memories are far more powerful and interesting than a few printed off pics from a sixteen year old's home made "Smithy Forever" type site. I'm 24 not 14. I feel like I'm trawling through someones personal space, their privacy, their lives, when I have no damned right to. I wouldn't like it if he sneaked into my house and looked at all my photo albums. Al's a tough cookie and knowing him he'll probably take half a look at some of the photos online one day and think "God I look sh*te oh well ne'er mind" but it just goes to show, even the lesser lights on the footballing/celebrity stage are not safe from the most random of pap moments.

Am I weird that I'd rather go to Starbucks with him than Selfridges? Am I even stranger that I think Justin Timberlake looks like a dirty trampy rat with a weird nose and bum fluff for a comedy thin beardy weirdy thingy he sports like Beckham used to?

Am I weird that I still think I've got a chance with Al? Probably... but at least I don't flaunt my pics of Al online, I got angry with a girl who (unbeknown to me) posted several private photographs, including one of my most treasured that my mother took of him when he was 19, signing a programme for me with the pen that he subsquently nicked (!) eventually she backed down and removed some of them but left that one up with a note of my ownership of the photograph.

Nothing is sacred these days is it.......

The Whinger Returns

I'm back. The last few days have been pretty uneventful bar realising that, in the words of Austin Powers, I'd lost my mojo and it had been stolen by none other than oneself who has created a Fort Knox style barricade in her mind, only allowing in "an ability to identify the purpose of utterances" or "Where's that sheet on..." "Oh my god it's almost 1am and I still can't sleep" and "Should I give up on Alan?! [with the head screaming manically yes the heart sighing no don't bloody jump the gun you chicken!]

That aside, a trip to the gym, watching an FA Cup final that was as exciting (to me) as wandering round a garden centre for the day followed by an episode of Coronation Street on slo-mo. It only livened up after the beloved Smudger came on and that was as late and ridiculous as Scholes's attempt at tackling.. he should've been on earlier, it needed a spiky character to make more of a drama out of it. By the time he came on it was ...oh never mind.......I don't like Man U (that's being nice u know, I could use stronger language but I won't, I'm mellowing in my old age - good god..) and I certainly don't like Chelsea (I'm sure the football fans will know about the chant involving getting one's father's gun and shooting the Chelski..people..ahem ahem)

Anyway, back to reality (as near to reality as you're going to get when you're swanning around with a Prada phone, Gucci watch and a head that's getting more mushier than mushy peas at the thought of Mr Smith) I confess I didn't get up til 10am. Tsk tsk. Nothing of particular note really today, played the role of chief skivvy and swot to perfection, making coffees, tidying up, keeping an eye on six kittens, working on the portfolio for the Adult Learner Support worker certificate, practicing for the singing lesson tomorrow, I slowly began to pull myself out of the "I feel miserable I neeeeeeeed Mr Smith" mode and realised hey, I've actually done quite a bit lately and I'm entitled to feel a little washed out and needy, I've worked like a trojan to get things done, keep stuff on track and help people out all whilst neglecting my increasingly pressurised head in check - the thing is, the RSPCA work, Adult Ed and watching mindless TV like the wonderful Desperate Housewives and the legend that is Dr Who today, and not forgetting the heartwarming Kingdom which is like a cute and more comedic version of Hearbeat - Heartbeat is a battered old comfy chair that you can't quite throw out but know one day you'll have to(!) ..oh get to the point woman stop rambling!!!!.... the thing is, it takes me out of myself and gives me time to wind down and reflect. I have been way too serious lately.

My birthday gave me an excuse to party, I shouldn't need an excuse to party at 24. I should go out more, get organised with going to the pub quiz down the road, enjoy going to Spiderman 3 with John and Dale this Tuesday (ones sixtysomething ones married, so no chance of romance there sorry to disappoint you chaps and chapettes!!!) and be more free. Sitting at home with the parents watching TV or surfing the web for idle gossip, feeding the brain with paranoid speculative garbage only serves in the long run, to chain you up and gag you til you're gasping to be let free. This week I'm going to seize the moment, yes seriously, I have to do something more interesting with my life. A certain degree of organisation and stability is fine, like choir, gym, set TV schedule, voluntary work, but sometimes you've just got to let go and wait and see what happens. I'm terrible at it. The unknown doesn't have to be scary. It could enlighten you...

Oh my god, the Rev Orangina preaches again.....may the Lord save you all!!!!!! Its good to write things down though and clear things out of the clutterbuck area that is the brain, filled to the brim with this that and the other and hopefully a few half decent brain cells to help one function in French tomorrow. Au revoir.... bonne nuit.......lol...

The madness after the night before

I went out in the rain early morning this morning to make sure I didn't chicken out. I felt a mix of euphoria and paranoia. Euphoria that I'd finally said exactly what was on my mind, paranoia that he'd take it the wrong way and that he was still on/off with the last girlfriend who is younger than me, probably prettier than me and probably supports his team (which I don't!) hmmmmm oh come off it G. Chill out woman. Because of this I have been a bundle of nerves all morning, buttoning up my clean bedding sheets with all the grace of a heffalump with an attack of the collywobbles, shaking like I'd just been administered with a near overdose level of Red Bull as I surfed the web chewing over, mincing over, fretting over ridiculous time wasting brain cell destroying mushy stuff otherwise known as the green eyed monster and the dreaded "What if he doesn't like me, what if he's got a girlfriend' complex...uh oh. Just when you thought I'd turned over a new leaf, the new leaves suddenly went brown and dropped off quicker than you could say "Alaaaaaaaaaaan!!!!"

Dear Lord. God help me today. I've got a boring brain numbing RSPCA meeting to go to tonight, if I haven't said already I volunteer for the local RSPCA, homechecking and helping my Mum with fostering several cats in a cat pen in the garden. I was considering going to the gym but I think I'm in too much of a negative headspace I need to calm down and chill out a bit more. Everything is piling up on top of me and squashing my head as if some three tonne elephant by the name of fear has parked its bum on me. I think I'm going to go to the gym after all. I need to go out and get some fresh air....see what Mum's doing first. Its either that or stay here and type up French and get your nice designer trousers ruined by tiny kittens crawling up it stinking of kitten milk. Tough choice.

Well I know I said I'd go to the gym but my head was hurting like hell, I decided to help with chores and spent most of the day either obsessing about work, bitching about this that and the other and generally feeling the love - not! I feel like I'm drifting through life, going through the motions, I've been trying to check myself and just think oi you've done quite a bit today don't be so hard on yourself, but no amount of chips, cake, Desperate Housewives or soul searching with my best friend via text or IM can help me right now, I'm wallowing in a sea of stupidity and sulkiness. I must've been a bloke in a previous life....Oh well..roll on the weekend eh. I don't think I'll blog tomorrow I think I need to just calm down, watch mindless TV and not think so seriously about life, its way too short for it.

It's time to leave the past behind

Its taken surfing the web and moaning about the peroxide one's exes and late night scribbles for the Adult Ed portfolio to bring me to my senses. I need to meet this issue head on. I finally have got a few screws tightened in my silly little head and decided its time for more action, less words.
So therefore I am going to send the following to Fishgob.(Obviously, I'm not going to call him fishgob, like duh thats a surefire way of NOT getting a date..)

I thought of the following

Dear ...

How are you fixed in the next couple of weeks, I..

and thats how far I got!! Thats how chicken I am!! Its ridiculous, I am a hotbed of passionate ideas and (sometimes) pretentious prose on my blogger and in my articles but with this guy, you're lucky if I can articulately express my feelings within a paragraph without stumbling, crossing out or tippexing here there and everywhere.

Okay okay I have to get on with it..

Dear ..

I love you. This is far as I got without thinking shall I write a poem, shall I just leave it because I've got no chance anyway coupled with ohmygodwhattheheckamidoinghe'llfreakoutaaaargh moments bouncing around like ping pong balls with "do i" "don't i" "should i" "shouldn't i" feeding my lovesick veins with pathetic paranoia.
Right tell you what, I'm going to do the simplest thing, I'm going to write down exactly what I've just put and then say er..I dunno..I'm working on it.... oh well.. I'll keep you posted guys!!!!!

Well you know what people. Less is more.
So I'm just going with...

Dear ..

I love you.

From me

xx

Oh god I want to puke up now bleurgh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Possibly the Most Geeky..Freaky Post Ever

Proof that old age is turning me into a geek..I sent five questions to my friend Janine via email just now "for a laugh" and this is what I filled in... (oh I must be so bored to be doing this sort of thing, bit like when people send you forwards, you want to look at them but then you end up wasting half your life downloading the pictures or trying to resend that dratted long forgotten but worth a shot friend that makes up the 10 for "A life time of happiness" or face breaking the chain and "you will have seven years bad luck" etc etc. God don't they annoy you but amuse you in equal measures? And these people who have the time to forward such stuff, does the boss know?? Ha ha.. Anyway here's the questions below..


1. What was your first thought this morning
"Better get up otherwise i''ll take forever to get going this morning"

2. Who was the first person you texted and what did you say
My friend Katy in reply to hers about whether I had a nice birthday weekend

3. What's the strangest thing you saw today
David Beckham's girly tight white pants showing through his shorts in a picture in Heat magazine(!)

4. Sum up your day in one word
Busy

5. What was the best thing about today?
I feel like I'm getting somewhere with my portfolio work, labelling and checking over it made me realise just how much I've achieved in a short space of time. I'm not panicking as much now.


Done alot of organising and sorting today, tidied my room, picked a nice oak antique style unit for my new bedroom, helped mum with food shopping, liased with tutor at cookery class to make sure all the record sheets, worksheets had been completed or put in their files, took pictures as evidence for those who were being entered into an assessment/exam...

I've been up to all sorts as usual..smelling of kitten milk ..moved to tears watching Jeremy Kyle visiting Kenya in a daze with a moody haze panicking about work, Dad being a jerk ((if he cant find something or the answer to something in a few seconds flat its a total disaster and the negativity swamps the house quicker than ants on a left over jam sandwich!) to sticking labels on my portfolio work like some burnt out secretary gagging for the none-forthcoming payrise to burning serious workaholic/paranoid android/will he or wont he tensions on the jogger listening to the Kaisers and bouncing up and down on the trampoline fifty times with more vigour than Calum Best on a Playboy bunny's bed... yes its been sooooo exciting today!!
Right I better sign off...
Until next time folks..

Hazy Days

Late nights pickling my brain with the Adult Ed coursework, the ongoing saga of 'will he or won't he talk to me does he or doesn't he like me' to-ing and froing in the form of emotionally charged mind poisoning texts, emails and IMs, scoffing chips and warm beetroot tart polished off with wine and chocolate mousse at Bettys in York, preserving one's grey matter in the embalming fluid known as Bacardi and Coke to the point of saturation - I feel like the living dead! I have worked so hard on my project, fixed a false smile on my face, baked my own chocolate birthday cake, partied, gossiped, got soaked to the skin last night waiting to watch Mika at Leeds University (it was absolutely fantastic, like an ultra camp school disco with attitude! balloons, bubbles, bags of fun..it was a great finale to a mad weekend of birthday celebrations) the reality has hit me hard today. I may be a year older but I'm not exactly a year wiser. I am still hopelessly, ridiculously in love with the same bloke and no nearer to establishing exactly how he feels. Getting into his mind is like trying to unlock Fort Knox. I look into his eyes and melt away quicker than a Snowman in Barbados. Bleurrrgh. Some things, never ever ever..change!!
The carpet is being laid down in my bedroom, I'm still waiting for my double bed to arrive (I suppose you've got to speculate to accumulate!! ha ha!) theres sheets and half scribbled project notes everywhere, I feel more washed out than a helpless beached seal right now. It's going to take more than a mug of Green and Blacks chocolate to pick me up again. Come on G.... Alan's in the England B squad, you've made great strides with your project, Adult Ed have got another voluntary class lined up for you chill out woman *ho hum!*

Leeds are down, my confidence is up but I still fantasise about the peroxide one!!

Im on the second part of my Adult Education Learner Support training, I have been up to my eyeballs in annotating charts, writing up evidence of understanding utterances and bitching about the lads in Joseph - Frodo, Beckham, Bob the Builder and Will Young (Well thats what they look like to me...!!) frustrated by the freaky two Davids on Grease - that is David Gest and the d*head that is David Ian - they both love themselves but one is a fruitcase and the other is too busy looking at the fruity charms of the women ie ooh shes gorgeous with eyes firmly fixed on one page 3 type's boobs!! Yes I admit it I've got the reality tv love bug once again, its sooooo bad its soooooooo camp its soooooo set up its good. Lets not forget Dr Who and Wife Swap, don't you think Tennant looks sexy in glasses? Who else thought that the muslim wife swap was a walking advert for why there are a significant minority of them that breed the 9/11. 7/7 paranoia??? Anyway......... here's an article just published by sportingo which sums up my feelings about Leeds
The Only Way Is Up - Or Is It?The Elland Road club seem to have one foot in the footballing grave after a disastrous season in the Championship. Their tormented fans are praying for a miracle rise from the ashes of mismanagement, misguidance and misery.
Someone apply the brakes! It looks like we're going to crash and burn! Oh, too late. Thump! Reality bites. No tears. No pain. Just 'Oh well, we were pathetic anyway' and the sound of 'We're all going on a three-division tour' joyfully ringing through the stands with self-deprecating tones.
This sinking feeling is all too familiar for Leeds United fans.
Leeds are yet again the laughing stock of English football. They're down and seemingly out for the count with sharks already circling to dish out a killer blow to a once-mighty force who went out with a whimper against Ipswich. All and sundry has an opinion.
Who should be in the stocks? Who deserves the rotten tomatoes? The so-called fans who encroached the pitch? Ken Bates, the Bad Santa who came bearing grudges rather than gifts a plenty? Peter Ridsdale the Rogue Transfer Market Trader Rebel Without A Clue? Wisey the Wimp? The Who The Heck Are You and Oh Yeah, You Were Good for So and So Once brigade?

The truth hurts and the reality is that a vicious potent mix of all of the above has been administered in such a strong dose that Leeds United are practically comatose.This bitter tale could twist and turn for years to come. Looking back in anger as part of an ongoing 'blame game' twists the knife in further. The rise and sudden plummet in fortunes has been a tragi-comedy close to overkill, thanks to the scandal rags, fed-up fans and gleeful Leeds haters who love to verbally maul an all-too-easy prey.
Each and every tired, trampled-on, hopelessly devoted and in some cases somewhat deluded fan has surely seen it all now... want to bet? We can't expect to go to the likes of Bournemouth and Southend with the hope of just topping up one's tan and three points as safely tucked away as O'Leary, Blackwell, Mills, Kewell and company's retirement fund, paid very kindly by Leeds United AFC.
We are more vulnerable now than ever. How many young kids have been nicked by better Championship or glory-chasing Premiership clubs? How many more will go now we've sunk to a new low? How can we build a future around 30-something loanees, has-beens and journeymen? Can we afford to sack Wise? If Bates goes, who the hell will want to take up such a poisoned chalice? Is liquidation the only answer? Should we just cut our losses right now, clear the lot of them out and start all over again? So many questions, so few answers.
All I know is for too long we've been stuck in the past, we've looked over our shoulders as if the Premiership golden days were just yesterday. We've gone all misty eyed at our treasured football programmes from the Champions League season, the shirts or lucky socks we wore when we were in contention for the title - hoping, praying that it'll all return again very soon.
How many of us, hands on hearts, have talked about Leeds in terms of the old days and said: "I wish so and so was here" or "Do you remember when?" What good is it? All this reminiscing over yesterday's men, yesterday's glories, yesterday's euphoria has disintegrated into despair and desolation. All that's left of the 'good' Leeds United is represented by a few ticket tabs, tattered photos and nostalgic DVDs.
Up to now the only stable aspect of Leeds United has been the support of the long-suffering fan bestowed upon a bunch of misfits, old gits and pretenders. The only way to repay the passion of the steadfast shirt-wavers is to get a team together that feels the hurt and has enough fire in its belly to climb up what seems like Yorkshire's answer to Mount Everest and come out of the proverbial frying pan of Coca Cola League No One (Sorry, Coca Cola League One) firing on all cylinders and ready to battle long, hard and determined to the end.
No more ill-meant, ill-made promises, no more flash boys, no more 'he played for England once' or 'he was part of a World Cup winning team' types; we want the hungry, made-of-steel hearts-of-gold individuals with typical Yorkshire grit. I'm fed up of going to games thinking 'Er, who?' and 'How long have we got him for? Can we afford him...' Let's look at the long term, not the short term Elastoplast quick-fit solutions.

If my fellow Leeds fans want to stand up and be counted they have to swallow their pride, take all the jokes, like for example - 'What have a cordless drill and the Championship got in common? They've got no Leads (Leeds..get it, ho ha ha not!) and look forward, not back.
These are dark, desperate times. There needs to be less finger-wagging, thuggery and treachery; everyone, from the cleaner to the common man waving his battered old Leeds flag in defiance, has to stick together. If we don't do that, then the Grim Reaper will surely put the final nail in the coffin.