Leaving on a Jet Plane

Don't know if I'll be back again....

Quite possibly this very one

Because the world might end with me on the other side of it.....

Or I might totally freak out on the plane and gnaw someone's face off for breathing too loudly or try to climb out of the window because "I can't fucking breathe in here..."

Or I might get in trouble in Dubai International Airport for looking a bit shifty or for trying to leave it when I don't have a Visa and I really don't want to leave it anyway, I just can't navigate my way around well signposted and brightly lit areas because scheduling anxiety makes me incapable of behaving like a rational adult and turns me in to a gibbering child...

Or I might get abducted by Morlocks, land eels or sky sharks... and forced to live as a slave before slowly earning the respect and admiration of my fellow slaves, rising up in a brilliant and successful coup to over throw the evil dictator, whereupon they will make me their queen ..... you don't know... it could happen!

So in case any of these things happen - I just wanted to say:-

"It's been emotional"

and

"So long and thanks for all the fish"




Obviously if none of these increasingly outlandish happenings actually occur, I'll just see you all soon.

Hope you all have a good Christmas (or festive celebration of your choice).


Jittery Pixie out

x

In the Seachange Nothing is Safe

I was struck recently with the memory of a survey I took a few years ago, in which I was asked to name the 5 albums that I considered to be most formative in my musical development.  As far as I recall these were as follows:-

• Nevermind - Nirvana
• Pablo Honey - Radiohead
• Superunknown - Soundgarden
• Meloncollie and the Infinite Sadness - Smashing Pumpkins
• Number 5 was either Smash by Offspring, Without you I'm Nothing by Placebo or Dookie by Greenday 

The Pixie aged 17 ...to date... now that I think about it

Aside from reminding me that I spent the majority of my A-Level years looking like a cross between Brian Molko, Justine Frischmann and that Brett chap from Suede (androgyny was very in during the late 90s - really it was), it also brought in to stark realisation that I am still far more of a grungy miserablist than perhaps I had realised.  Aside from my brief stint as a 'bit of a goth' (I'm still a little bit in love with Robert Smith) I have never really moved away from my love of this type of music - and I don't think it's all nostalgia.  My musical tastes may have varied and broadened but in times of self reflection, self doubt and self loathing I return to the staple misery mongers of old and often find them strangely uplifting. 

I was asked this week to 'put something happy on' [the stereo] whilst hosting a night of nerdery and I was shocked to find myself at a loss.... I couldn't think of anything happy that the Sideburns and I had in our not insubstantial CD collection... nothing... in the end I went with some fairly high octane electronica... not 'happy' per se but not soul crushingly miserable either.... I was complained at for that too because it was 'just noise' - the philistines!  Eventually I plugged in my laptop and we settled in to slaying evil beasts with an 80s pop soundtrack to time our axe swings to.

I think I am, by nature something of a melancholy soul.  A new study recently discovered that this is not an unusual trait.  Apparently those of us who are a bit creative are also a bit mental - and writers are the worst... awesome!  I do so love when new and exciting studies show what the majority of the population already instinctively knew to be true!  To grossly misquote a very wise man 'happiness is the enemy of creativity.'  We habitual sad sacks spend our time in the grips of crippling ennui, longing for a sense of peace, a happiness and contentment that we can only imagine  - it's what drives our creativity.  If by some miracle of providence we stumble upon that happiness, we lament the loss of our creative source, spiralling into an uncomfortable despondency, pulled away from the familiar friend we find in creeping despair.  It is the inevitable conundrum of the perpetually miserable wordsmith.

This does then rather beg the question of whether we are miserable because we are creative or creative because we are miserable - could we be happy if we were less creative?  If our imaginations could not take us to strange and magical places, would they be less inclined to take us to dark and foreboding ones?  If we were less creative, less able to imagine, would we even understand the meaning of happiness?  Gosh, I seem to have gone a bit 'Brave New World' here... how delightfully dystopian of me :)

My source of misery and despair is internal, my source of happiness and joy is external - there is an almighty conflict raging within this little Pixie on a daily basis.  These last few weeks however, while internally teetering on the brink of complete despondency, despair and dare I say it even a touch of depression, my external sources of comfort and delight have heard my internal cries and come to my aid.  The love that I have felt in this time, however disgraceful my behaviour may have been, the tenderness and true sweetness of my perfect and wonderful friends  has pushed me back on the right footing and may even be beginning to rub off on my internal conflict - just a little bit.

I am not ready to give up being creative, I shall always be a touch melancholy - existential crises fuel me - but I shall be eternally grateful for the people around me who make me feel worthy of being loved.

Thank you.

Pixie out
x

Never sleeping for want of Eating....

Reason notwithstanding the universe appears to be continuing on its merry way, oblivious to the fact that I am a pathetic dribbling mess of rubbish... the bastard!

The Pixie is a Sad Panda

Actually I'm pretty much ok at the moment, but  I do so enjoy a good drama - and being angry at the universe.

The lovely Mr Ben leaving for foreign and sinister lands has seen me weeping like a hungry, angry baby at his mother - who gave me a cuddle and plied me with wine and his father - who mostly stayed out of my way until the following morning when he asked me if I was feeling better... which I was.. .well played Mr Brooks Sr., well played.

Most importantly however, I managed to get the classic Han / Leia line in... in the airport through streaming tears and stricken grief .. .that's how awesome I am:-

Ben: "I love you"
Pixie: "I know"  *sniffle - blub*
Ben: "That's my girl!"

Yes I know it's the wrong scene, but the look on her face is how I felt
internally having just pulled off something really cool!

Since his departure, I have been taken out for wine and Thai food, consumed a whole bunch of gin and coffee with Ms Cat - who managed to have the perfect balance of sympathy, planning awesome things to do to occupy my time and telling me I was being a little bit pathetic; we also managed to run in to a man who was once described by the Cat's new housemates as a "smack head"  - turns out, not far off the mark... still it was interesting!  I have also had a variety of text messages from people asking how I'm doing and inviting me out for drinkums/roleplaying/tea/painting - I'm fine thank you everyone - and always happy to go for drinkums... and that other stuff... you have my number.. .so call me, maybe! (Blergh... I can't believe I just went there... I feel so dirty)

In other news, the Droning Land Slug is bludgeoning her way in to my fragile psyche again with her lard dripping, ham fisted, banana chewing with her mouth open, hidebound, bigoted, lacking in perspective or joy, slurping her yoghurt like she's some kind of food hoover, usual manner of oblivious stupidity.  I've only been back at work two days... oh dear!

Charity set up is going very very slowly... but going at least - so that's good... we're hoping to have things in place by January ... I honestly think nothing of significance is going to happen until next summer.... it's all just taking soooo long... stoopid paper work!

I also managed to scare a child so much on my way to work yesterday that he fell off his bicycle.  That's gotta be some kind of super power or something right?!?!?

Child Scaring, Better than I thought I'd be Pixie Out
x

...but You don't Really Care for Music, do You?

My mind is blown

I finally got around to watching Terrence Malik's latest cinematic offering - "The Tree of Life" last night.

For quite literally 20 minutes I was rendered speechless.

After that I could just about form words but was unable to structure them in a coherent manner.

The world around me had lost all meaning.  I was gripped by an overwhelming sense of ennui.  I was not left feeling peaceful by this film, as it had been suggested I might, quite the contrary in fact.  I was left feeling like a meaningless spec in an unfathomably vast ocean of other meaningless specs - but I was kind of ok with that.  It was really more resignation than peace.

Words are insufficient when attempting to describe this film - I could do it nothing more than a grave disservice.  Suffice to say, I know that I spent two hours of my life last night involved in something truly special.

I will not encourage anyone to watch this film for fear that were they not as overwhelmed by it as I, that I would have somehow cheapened it.  But it would be wonderful to have other people to gape open mouthed with (there is no real way of discussing this film) in wonder.

I will never need to watch another film again. 

I think not only have I ruined cinema for myself, but also my entire take on reality - I'm going to have to go and have a bit of a sit down and think about my life.



Awestruck Pixie Out

Ch ch ch ch ch ch check it out

I have made a new blog - despite yesterday's protestations to the contrary, after some discussion with the ever wonderful Captain Sideburns, it turns out a specialist interest-ish blog is not beyond my grasp...

It is here.

Go look at it.

Pixie Out

Real Men Hunt in Packs

I have been somewhat neglecting my poisonous pondering duties, of this I am acutely aware.  There is however, excellent reason for this... mostly I have been pondering the possibility of a specialist interest blog - in a vain attempt to move away from just being spectacularly self indulgent and hoping to write about something that people who do not actually know me might be interested in reading...

This has caused great inner turmoil for the Pixie. 

It turns out that any passing semblance to a specialist interest that I have is most definitely covered by far more qualified, talented and taller people than I.  My knowledge is simply not expansive enough to write about poetry or music.  I don't watch enough movies anymore to qualify for a film blog.  I considered comics and general geekery, but realised that this is an area the blogsphere is rather inundated with already.  I'm dangerously underqualified to write about mental health or therapy with any real weight behind my glib commentary.  I'm not funny enough to write a comedy blog.  I don't regularly practice any kind of witchery or general hippiness that much anymore, so am a wee bit out of the loop on that one.  I am, it transpires, quite distinctly average... how terribly dreary of me.

So, unfortunately, this means that you will have to continue to be subjected to my self indulgent ramblings every once in a while, combining a number of my distinctly average specialist interests with the dull sound of me whining and intermittently screaming... poor you.

Now then, where was I.....

Ah yes. 

Euro 2012....

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Up until fairly recently I had managed to live my entire adult life free of men who like football - ah those were the halcyon days... (they weren't really I'm just saying that for dramatic effect) 

However, it seems I now find myself living with two of them.

During Euro 2012.  (probably - I think that's what it's called)

I can't escape it.  It's everywhere.  It's on all the time.  There is advertising for it everywhere.  Even when it's not actually happening live or on the TV, it is still being talked about.  Drooling, over-entitled knuckledraggers are being fawned over and vilified in equal measure - as if they some how matter. GAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH... it just makes me so cross!

AND THERE IS NO ESCAPE!!!!!!!

In other, less nightmarish news:-

We spent the Jubilee weekend with the lovely Mr Ben's parents - which was lovely.  We watched a lot of telly all about how brilliant the Queen is, interspersed with news reports about the telly we'd just watched about how brilliant the Queen is, interspersed with eating and drinking lots and talking about how brilliant the Queen is because we got to be doing all of that on a Monday and a Tuesday, when we should really have been at work - but the Queen is brilliant so we had 2 days off instead... yey Queen!

I also read a squawking article by Jan Moir (by accident - Ben's Mum is a secret Daily Mail reader) - about how women who cry at work are weak and should have their testicles removed or something... I glazed over after the red mist descended and I had to go and have a cup of tea and a calm down and talk a bit more about how brilliant the Queen is.

The ever smashing Miss Laura has asked me to be a bridesmaid in her upcoming nuptials, when she will become Mrs Matt (I've never even been near a concentration camp) Smith... ain't that just grand?!?!?  Once we can get around finding matching dresses that will suit a slender size 8 and a boobilicious size 12, I believe my main task for the event will be to stop the Bride from freaking the fuck out and hosing the attending guests down in a hail of bullets... or at least plying her with the appropriate amount of booze to calm her, but not so much that pole dancing around the elderly relatives seems like a good idea... phew, I feel I may have my work cut out!!!

I also seem to find myself embroiled in charity work again... or rather - the creation of a charity.  I'm not really sure how it happened - I wasn't even drunk.  Initially the whole thing seemed like a jolly good plan and I was terribly flattered to have been asked to be involved in the inception of what seems like a brilliant charity aimed at raising the confidence levels of younguns.... and let's face it, who couldn't have done with a bit more confidence at school?!?!?
So brilliant idea - totally behind it - working with people I know, admire, respect and adore - love it - really good opportunity etc. I've been designing art work for marketing campaigns, coming up with logos and playing around with branding, found an accountant who is willing to be a Trustee and do our accounts - all in the space of about 2 weeks.... when I first told Ben about it, he said 'that sounds terrifying'... and I was all like 'nah.. it'll be fine... we'll be aces'....

Yup... had our first meeting as a group on Sunday ... totally terrified now. 

There is a highly strong possibility that I am way in over my head.... At some point I will be discovered as a fraud and a charlatan once again and booted out of this Utopian society of creative minds and do-gooders... until then however, I shall work my little pixie socks off to make it work.

I'm also passing the inbetween worrying about other stuff times by worrying about the future...stoopid future... stoopid being happy and wanting more of the happy stuff and actually being in a position to achieve it at some point... Gaaah!
My mind may explode.... or I may fall victim to Eduardo Monteaz this very weekend in some kind of Agatha Christie-esque plot.

Either way, at least I won't have to watch any more football!


Quivery Pixie Out
x

You Were Always On My Mind

It's that one day of the year again when pretty much everyone in the western world is made to feel awkward....

This... this right here is exactly what is happening to the lovely Mr Ben and I...


Actually, I'm rather looking forward to my jar of hammers when I get home... less the removing of my hand from my face, however.

I am not in the least a super pro girly valentine kind of a gal, with the squealing and the wailing and the impossibly high expectations of the opposite sex's ability to read minds and have Hollywood ideals of what romance should be, which inevitably all end in crushing disappointment.

Nor am I the bleak cynical hater who waxes lyrical about the commercialisation of romance and how we're all saps for buying into the ridiculous charade. Why do we need one enforced day per year to express our feelings for another soul?

Well we don't.

Or at least, we shouldn't.

As offensive as it may seem and however much it may stick in your craw, perhaps we do. Perhaps we do need greetings card companies and wine makers, florists and chocolatiers and over-priced jewellers to treat us like idiot children and spoon feed us this mush...

Just think about it for a moment.

Do any of us actually take the time to tell the people we care about how much they mean to us? Do we tell them as much as we could? As much as we should?

As much as they need to hear it?

So what if we're reminded to express our feelings once a year by an industry with alterior motives. So what?

We could all do with a little more love in our lives... a little more kindness... a little less psuedo intellectual cynacism. Being intelligent doesn't mean sacrificing joy.

I'm not just talking about your spouse or your partner or your illicit lover, but your fellow man. The girl in the typing pool who always stocks up the biscuits. The man at No. 42 whose pristine automobile you admire every weekend as he's out there washing it. Everyone who you'd miss if they weren't around. Everyone who ever touched you. Everyone who holds a place in your heart, every hand you've reached out for. Everyone who makes the horrid drudge of daily life a little more bearable. Go hug them, smile at them, thank them, whatever - just let them know.

I'm not saying that you should rush out and buy your wife diamonds - but remember to tell her how much you love her, or that you still get a flutter when you watch her walk away... not because Hallmark told you to, but because you mean it... and you want her to know.

Yes, it's sad that this day has come to represent corporate greed and that any gesture or display of affection offered on this day is tinged with the bile of obligation - but if it weren't for this day, when would you next find the time to show someone how much you care?

If you are one of those people who tell those you love that you do so regularly, then good for you... you are one of the few people who can legitimately sit atop their high horse today and shout cynical anti capitalist diatribe at the rest of us as we panic and complain.

But for the rest of the population, go hug someone.

Lord knows we could all do with a little more human contact... just to remind us that the world does not have to be a bleak and unforgiving wasteland void of emotion and joy (even if you are too smart to fall for the commercial trickery).

Go rejoice in some love.

Cupid Pixie Out
xxx

PS. Awesome birthday last weekend - despite many of the group being ice bound - my friends and ever so wonderful boyfriend took the time to tell me that they loved me... by getting me drunk and buying me awesome presents :)

PPS. I had a dream last night about a baby hedgehog trying to have sex with my leg... it was very strange

Cause I'm a Liar, Yeah I'm a Liar!

Well hello there, intrepid adventurer -

I too have been off adventuring - hence the lack of time to write ... I say lack of time, what I really mean is 'crippling Minesweeper addiction.'

I know....

I know....

*shame face*


Anyway - in stuff that's been going on around me despite my little problem (I can totally quit any time I want)... We bought new mice. Barton, Megatron and Dave.

Dave's dead.

Barton is a warrior poet and philosopher king... as you would expect with such a name.

Megatron is a souless, red eyed, evil doer.
He killed Dave.
Ben doesn't believe me - he thinks Dave died because he would habitually urinate in his own food and throw himself off tall things... but I know the truth ... I'm watching you Megatron... I'm watching you... you and your cute wiggly nose...

Also - boy mice are smelly and throw their food all over the place and never make their own bed... much like boy people, as it turns out.

Ben is now not going to Germany in April (yey!)... but probably Canada in October (boo!.. and also yey!.. dammit!)... so I have a little longer to get around the whole 'being a total fruit cake' thing... and I've found myself a counsellor who seems like a decent and not at all afraid of me sort of a chap... which is wonderful. I've had counsellors in the past who have cried at me... this did not go well... apparently plumbing the depths of the Pixie's mind is not for the faint of heart.

My Mother managed to break her spine over the festive period... which was terribly clever of her.

We're convinced it's because she's after a bionic one now... to go with her bionic shoulder and bionic knee... they can rebuild her... better..faster... more capable of walking without falling over... any of these things would suit me fine if it means I don't get any more painicked phone calls from my little brother at 8.30 am on a Saturday after a heavy session the night before and a hangover that is gaining independent movement and rational thought....

I still don't think I've thanked the sideburned one enough for getting out of bed at that ungodly hour, driving to 'Nam, then to Bath, then waiting around in the hospital for hours, then driving back to 'Nam, then cleaning up 'Mommy Vomit' then driving back home, all without batting an eye lid and still managing to crack jokes and make my brother and I feel much better about the whole thing... you legend you...

Thank you for being so good to me... and my crippled and ginger family.

Actual Christmas was lovely - cheating at boardgames, consuming everything edible in sight - you know, the usual. New Year also was a delightfully drunken and well dressed affair - still totally chuffed with the lovely vintage number I managed to pick up in a charity shop the day before... go me!

So now I'm back at work - it's January and as such it's supposed to be awful and overtime-y and no holiday-y ... because I work for an accountant and it's Tax Return time...

(Make sure you get yours in people... lest the Tax Man Cometh).

It's really not all that bad at all (so far) I just have actual work to do for a change - instead of sitting on my arse doing four fifths of fuck all. The worst part is the incessant negativity, food hoover noises and inane jabber I'm subjected to on a daily basis... it makes me want to kill.... violently...and with fire...

Still on the plus side, I'm now BFF's with Henry Rollins and have immediately shot up in the cool ratings of most everyone I know (who knows who he is) by like... 1,000,000,000% ... or something... I'm now THAT cool! Ah. aging hardcore kids are so easy to impress... it's really barely a challenge at all!!!!

Also - it's my birthday soon... you should buy me a present... I'm delightful... this should be rewarded... also ... I like presents! :)

Not allowed to celebrate her birthday properly because it's in sodding January Pixie Out

xxx

Cyborg Sea Dog Tell Me What You Dream Of...

Not being a naturally organised or together person but wishing most of the time to at least pretend to be grown up enough to organise my life to some degree; I rather enjoy lists. Particularly aspirational ones.

It’s not necessarily that they provide a means by which to measure your perception of success with each successive strike off, more that they encourage thought about what is really important, about that which you care the very most.

On that note, some time last year I compiled such a list.

Which I have subsequently (and probably inevitably) misplaced, somewhere between moving house and just not being grown up enough not to have misplaced it.

I do however, remember one item from said list: “Write a piece of poetry that is not unutterably self indulgent, you self absorbed, pretentious, Kerouac wannabe.” Or something to that effect.

I think I have managed it… just.

I also had “Write some good poetry” on said list … I don’t think I’m quite there yet… however some of my fellow wanky poets do seem to rather enjoy my inane douche-baggery… It’s all terribly subjective I suppose… I guess if you look hard enough you can find a strange beauty in most anything.

I was largely inspired by the goings on of the last couple of weeks… nothing particularly earth shattering or life altering has occurred (save our visit to Mauschwitz – which was rather life altering for the teeny rodents involved – in so far as it was life ending. I might have cried. A little bit. Ok, a lot… like a child in fact… Mr Ben was terribly stoic about the whole thing though… how uncharacteristically manly of him?!?!)

The last couple of weeks have seen Captain Sideburns and I watching the entire back catalogue of The Mighty Boosh, which aside from making me a little bit fall in love with Noel Fielding again (this happens intermittently – we currently have a very strained fantasy relationship – it’s almost like he doesn’t care about me at all) has also seen us obsessively singing “Future Sailors” at each other and the subversive irreverence has apparently bored its way into my subconscious.

Our outing to a quaint little venue called the Cube, in which the bar staff seemed to have arbitrarily swapped the contents of their mixer bottles around in some kind of bizarre practical joke, meaning that I was forced to drink vodka & coke (which was masquerading as sparkling water) as there was no lemonade (there was – it was hiding in the tonic bottle as Mr Ben found out when he took his first sip of Gin & tonic), provided the perfect backdrop for the stupendously brilliant Enablers. The snake hipped, silver tongued, middle aged, balding front man of said band and more precisely his doomy, cynical, but ever so beautiful lyrics teamed up with my Boosh brain to make some kind of weird drug induced psychedelic poetry smack down … awesome! (Also I am now the proud owner of number 178 of 200 of his delightfully illustrated collection of lyrics/doomy beat poetry – thank you, electro funk goblin.)

In short – I done wrote a poem again… one that I quite like, actually.

I’m now considering writing another aspirational list.
Point 1 on said list should probably be “find old list.”

In other news, Mr Ben and I spent the prior weekend largely eating cheese and defacing children’s colouring books – with Crayola crayons, no less! It’s not what you think – so far there has yet to be the addition of any raging man cock to a single picture. Instead we have gone for something far more sinister and insidious… our efforts include chaos fawn, doomed sea voyage complete with emerging sea monster, Death Bus 2000: The Final Solution and alien abduction in a sleepy rural village… but no penises… we are however running short on ideas, so stylized tentacle porn may well turn up at some point.

This may be why adults aren’t generally allowed to play with children’s toys.

I have also discovered that the men in my life are rather enamoured with the ridiculous reality bitch fest that is America’s Next Top Model. Don’t get me wrong, I’m rather a fan myself (particularly of makeover week – I enjoy watching nasty girls cry) but I have got nothing on these two “heterosexual” males. Bets were placed this week on how many girls would cry while getting their hair all cut off/dyed/badly weaved etc. – I figured there were enough badasses in this cycle that only 2 of the remaining 11 would cry… I was spot on… but even this proud victory paled into insignificance next to the whooping, hollering and general chatter that emitted from the boys during our Tuesday night TV session…

Benders!

Finally – Mr Ben is going to Germany for 3 months in April. I’m trying really hard to be ok with this… but I’m totally not. I may be a nightmarish basket case for a while as I work out how to combine being supportive and being sad.

Sorry.

News worthy Pixie out.

It's that little souvenir of a rather good year actually

So, since Captain Sideburns has already posted about the house move and the holiday, there seems little point in me doing the same... except to say the following:

• House - good - very good... kinda wish it was ours for keeps...


• Window vinyl design and erection (*tee hee - erection*) - utterly frustrating but ultimately awesome and unique - so much so that our local Avon Lady came by just to tell us how awesome it was ... which was nice


• Futon - lovely... but also the cause of our first "fight" (the word fight is in inverted commas because we're both far too polite to actually fight... though I always said our first one would be about soft furnishings... or carpet... god I hate carpet!)


• Santorini - amazing... beach, cocktails, lovely hotel, fascinating trip up a mountain, battle with the gods - everything you want from a holiday really


• My very favourite photo of the whole trip can be seen here I think it sums up the whole thing rather nicely, myself.

Since returning from galavanting around volcanic Greek islands and fixing up our house all nice, I've been really very tired and a bit out of sorts... especially this week... because I have been obsessing since about 3 o'clock Sunday morning about a ridiculous Excel quiz featuring lyrics from 90s songs. Essentially there are 200 lines from songs and you get 2 points for getting the artist or the title and 5 points if you get them both right. I'm on 650 points so far. Frankly, this is not good enough. I'm sure there is some fancy pants way of embedding the file into this blog so you can share in my insanity but buggered if I can figure out how to do it.

Ben has given me till the end of the week before he takes it away from me... I think he might be slightly worried about my mental health... I think I am too... it's keeping me awake at night... stoopid quiz...stoopid competitive streak...

On the plus side I am rediscovering music I'd completely forgotten about... and some I wish I could forget about...

damn your eyes Celine Dion - your insipid brand of pop warble has soiled my mind's ear for the last time...

Pixie Out

Sort of Revolution

I hereby declare this to be the cutest thing ever... FACT...

(unless you don't like cats of course, in which case you're probably dead inside anyway and find no cuteness or wonder in the world at all)


So then - job seems to be going well - the boss has yet to make me cry (apparently he has a bit of a knack for making everyone cry at some point) most people seem to dislike him very much and he does seem like a bit of a hard ass but secretly I kinda like him, he's very dry and blunt and like I said, he hasn't made me cry yet... I'm sure my feelings about him will change as soon as crying has occurred.

Everyone else seems very lovely and I'm slowly learning to play the socio-political game that very clearly operates within the office - but still managing to keep on the fringes of it enough that I can observe it without being mired in it... which is nice.

Also, I can go to work, do a fairly good job (so far as I can tell) have like an actual lunch break, leave on time and not spend evenings and weekends working or stressing about work... it's like ... totally amazing n that!!!!

The lovely Mr Ben has moved in to the Tower while we look for alternative habitation closer to the drinking establishments we like to frequent (and still within walking distance of my place of work) which rather leaves us looking at the more upmarket expensive end of the Bristol housing market... middle class dream here I come!!!

I got to be all hippy again last weekend performing a naming ceremony in a circle of trees in the middle of a park... it went off without a hitch - everyone commented on how lovely the ceremony was and I got to feel incredibly wholesome... this was quickly tempered by midday drinking ... which turned in to night time drinking ... which turned in to the consumption of a kebab on a bench... oh dear...

Still it was super good to see a whole bunch of old friends and know that I am missed but that they are all doing really well and we're all turning into successful adults, reaching our aspirational goals and getting on with life and generally being delightful, stand up citizens who like a good time and nice pint ... but hey, we're the grown ups now and we get to decide what that means!!!


Also I've started writing again ... I'm going to try not to be such a pompous ass about the whole thing this time - but I think the hiatus may have done me some good - I read back over some of my old stuff today and some of it is actually really good... some of it not so much... but it's great to be able to appreciate my own work from a distance... hopefully I will be able to produce something that doesn't suck this time!!!


Now, go look at the kitty again and tell me it isn't the cutest thing you've ever seen in all your days?!?!?


Pixie out

I Can't Help That I Think You're Really Kickin'

I won't - I've got shit to do... but I could if you needed me...



And, Boys and Girls, the reason your Pixie has shit to do is because she seems to have landed herself gainful employment (and apparently the resultant requirement to speak about herself in the third person and start sentences with conjunctions - sorry... I'll stop it now)

I got a call from a recruitment agency who I hadn't actually registered with already - apparently there was one (who knew!) stating that they had seen my CV online and would I be interested in a secretarial / audio typist position.

"Why yes, I would be very interested" I replied

"Can you come in to register this afternoon?" They said

"Why yes, I could" I answered, compliantly

So I rock up, am generally awesome and charming and capable of spelling actual words and forming actual sentences and typing and using a word processor and not dribbling on my shoes and everything.

"Can you go for an interview tomorrow (Friday)?" Asks Rachel, who by this point has become my liaison in the whole affair

"Why yes, Rachel I can"

So I rock up to the interview with approximately 30 minutes preparation due to a variety of buggering about in hill forts, sheep bothering and hospital visitations by my increasingly bionic mother the day before... and am generally awesome and charming and make the panel laugh and exchange wry smiles and witticisms, all of which preceded a call a few hours later asking if I would be available to start on Monday....

"Why yes, Rachel I would be delighted"

So I'm now in my second week of being a secretary for a Chartered Accountant's firm, I have removed my lip piercing in order to conform to the required sartorial standards and seem to have utterly sold out to 'the Man'... but actually - I'm really rather chipper about the whole thing.

Of course there is a strong possibility that I'm chipper because the sun is out and beer gardens seem warm and welcoming instead of merely the haunts of social pariahs and our death sticks, and not because my inner rebel is finally satiated... but I really hope not... I'm almost getting used to the idea of being a grown up...

...


...


almost...



What?
I said 'almost'


Infantile yet wonderfully employed Pixie out

Like They Do on the Discovery Channel

I am apparently completely unemployable, douchbaggery of the highest order is abound, self esteem is cripplingly low and I am generally in a bit of a dark funk ...



However, I did promise to steer this blogship far away from the sea of despair, the rock pool of despondancy, the ocean of self absorbed whining and the pier of poor metaphor and concentrate only on utterly unimportant and whimsical things...

While I appreciate that in the grand scheme of things we are all merely insignificant specs in the cosmos and that nothing I or anyone else does is really of any importance, I did not intend to use the statement in a metaphysical, existential fashion, merely as a pledge to quit the bitching and the moaning; because frankly, however bad my shit gets, it's never really *that* bad.

I intend to adhere to this commitment (I am nothing if not dedicated)... and thus I present -


"The Weird Sex Lives of the Animal Kingdom as Discovered by Le Frenchy and I Last Week"

• Male dolphins have orgies called Wuzzles
• Mallards gang rape female ducks so savagely that many of the female ducks drown in the process
• Said female ducks have a multitude of false uterine openings that they can close at will in order to protect their eggs so that only the most tender of the vicious gang rapers can actually impregnate her
• Some male spiders have no penises so they milk their sperm gland with their front legs until they have spider spunk on their filthy paws, creep up to a larger and significantly more badass lady spider and quite literally cunt punch her in order to impregnate her... he then runs the hell away to avoid getting eaten ... or paying child support, I was unclear about this point
• Some snakes have 2 penises in order to employ a 2 pronged attack and increase their likelihood of being the baby daddy
• All the coral in the Great Barrier Reef releases its spores at the same time - making it the largest sex act in the whole world
• Certain types of humming birds have testicles that make up 25% of their body weight
• Barnacles penises are 30% longer than their bodies
• Homosexual sex between certain types of simeans is much more tender that the equivalent heterosexual sex
• Salmon mate when they're really old and give birth when they're about to die - the female lays the eggs, the male fertilises them and then they both die... to be eaten by passing gribblies - when the baby salmon hatch they then feast on the waiting gribblies who are munching on their folks
• Isabella Rosselini likes to dress up in a variety of crudely portrayed animal costumes and pretend to have sex. She then likes to film it and display her creations at exhibitions in the Natural History Museum

• Isabella Rosselini is much cooler than I previously thought

• Please note that the following point is not related to the sex lives of animals but the discovery did occur during the same time period:
  

• Dr Sister makes a delicious pie but is also such a gracious host that she does not make you eat the pastry if you don't want to ... in fact she even goes so far to remove the pastry from the pie before serving your piece.... I wonder if she'd cut the crusts off my sandwiches too..
  

I hope this has been educational - go check out the exhibition if you're in London - it's awesome...

You might also run into a loveable stoner who will buy you a coffee, enquire about the state of your mental and emotional wellbeing and take you to see a blinged out Catholic church... just for funzies...

Of course that might just have been me....



I also baked a cake - like a boss... flour is now my bitch!


Teacher Pixie out

* Please note that the accuracy of this piece may be marred by the fact that I have been drunk a lot since the learning occurred... I'm pretty sure it's all true though... especially the bit about the pie...

What's New Pussy Cat?

I love this...



One day I shall have my very own kitty and he shall be called Schrodinger...

... or possibly Heisenburg...

... I can't be certain...

*ba dum tiss*

See what I did there?... ah I crack myself up :)




In other news, after a serious tea related incident, my laptop might have been a little bit broken... luckily the wonderful Captain Smugpants fixed it with magic and anti tea spray... or something...

I was sent away with a warning to only drink diet fizzy pop and stop having sugar in my tea... apparently it's ok to have tea related incidents with your most precious electrical items, as long as there is no sugar in your beverage...pah!

Also secret plans are afoot to further the counselling prospects of myself and a couple of other like minded ladies ... if nothing else it might well abate the boredom related psychosis that is ebbing ever closer to my fragile psyche...

But it's so secret that it is currently guarded by ninjas and sharks and bears and cats with opposable thumbs... yeah!


Pixie out.
Woop!

Do My Little Kookie Dance

Hello kittens

I have realised that, the last post notwithstanding, my blog has become something akin to posting downward angled, pouty mobile phone photos of myself wearing far too much black eyeliner, surrounded by Twilight memorabilia on to fan fic forums entitled 'I luv Edward Cullen more than u do... I can prove it cuz I cut myself and have tatz of his face on my skin to show him my luv'...

or somesuch...

In fact so insufferably self absorbed have I become in my rantings that even my 14 year old, desperately insecure, gawky, awkward self is cringing at the awfulness of it all...

So in my 30 year old, desperately insecure, gawky and awkward fashion, I have decided to bloody well stop it!

Bring on the whimsy... awwwww FUCK yeah!!!!

Here goes....

Since we last touched base things have happened... things that have made me pull this face...



Things that have made Ben pull this face...


It is important to note that these faces are not directly related to the same incident... though for comedy purposes, let's pretend they were :)

My birthday was smashing - although it does appear to now have been a very long time ago... so long in fact that in the ensuing 3 weeks - I seem to have become old... and thus, delightfully crotchety (it's delightful when you're old... just damned rude when you're young... I fucking love being old!)

The weekend saw the Lovely Mr Ben, The Boy and I hitting local popular watering hole, The Croft in order to conduct a social experiment where we attempted to fit in with the hipster kids ... and while the other two may just about be able to pull it off... largely because one of them has the face of a 12 year old and the other one is about 12 years old, I struggled a little to begin with... the first band was brilliant but their groupies, with their terribly fashionable, if a little stupid, hair and their incredibly tight, if a little sterilising, trousers did NOT look old enough to be in there... they should have been home, tucked up in bunk beds with Mr Men pyjamas and warm milk... not out drinking and partying and ceremoniously nodding their heads to the loud noises that their really rather talented musical deities were churning out... Or was it simply that I was now too old to be there... maybe I should have been home, tucked up in bed with a warm coco and an increasingly right wing periodical, bemoaning the youth of today...

This feeling persisted until I went outside for my first cigarette break of the evening, upon which I happened upon two trendy looking fellows in their late 20's who seemed to be loudly sharing my feelings... and as a consequence of the next few hours spent intermittently talking with them about kids and their silly hair cuts and generally acting like drunken (yet mature and sophisticated) bafoons, I felt much better about myself... ah collusion is a wonderful thing.

So... essentially I think what I'm trying to say is that I like being old... or at least older... and I think I'm looking forward to being even older...I don't like being grumpy... and I have lots of things to smile about... so I'm gonna...




Fuck you emo me... you've just been rabbit punched in the tit by all powerful Whimsical and Bawdy elderly me....Ha!!!


In the grand scheme of things, pretty good with my lot Pixie out

Are You Gonna Go My Way?

Over the New Year period there was some discussion of my slightly odd persuasion toward a certain Wookie...

In the few short days that have followed the New Year celebrations (which were fantastic btw, even if I did have to wear a flouncy frock and look like an actual girl whilst simultaneously being awed at my capacity for fruity cocktail consumption) mention of the object of my affection has been made on more than one occassion on my usual internet forays....

I think it must be a sign... clearly I have to travel to Kashyyyk to track down his family and find out what skanky bar he's hanging out in now... maybe I could get in good with his mother while I'm there and they will accept me as one of their own and I can live the rest of my life as a Wookie Princess, whittling the future or whatever it is they do....

In the meantime, I'm going to share with you my Wookie related findings... because they amuse me ....




Despite my protestations to the contrary, Ben still believes this graph to depict actual fact...


"I will unzip your skin and wear it like a little coat"... or I will roll around on it in my underwear... you know, depending on my mood



Also... let the Wookie win....


And finally, I cannot find a copyable picture of this so you will all have to go check it out for yourselves... Chewbacca riding a squirrel and battling Nazis... I shit you not... it may be the most awesome thing I have ever seen... maybe.

Wookie Loving Pixie Out



P.S. Also, I want this... though it has nothing to do with Wookies... at all... this may also be the most awesome thing I have ever seen... maybe.



It's like having a deity sucking on your brain... so many kinds of win!

Holiday in Cambodia

I am now officially unemployed...

Whilst I realise that this should fill me with fear and dread about not being able to pay my rent (and there is certainly an element of that - especially when I actually think about it) I'm still vastly more relaxed than I have been for months.

Clearly this is quite telling of my state of mind of late and the sheer levels of ridiculous disproportionate stress I have placed myself under... stupid girl...

My last few days were spent compiling a comprehensive document entitled 'Where Bex has Hidden Everything' ... when you actually have to sit there and write down what you do every day so someone else can understand it, it makes you realise just exactly how complicated it all is and just how much of it there is... so perhaps it's ok that I couldn't do it all perfectly... of course it would have been helpful to have worked this out before it sent me a bit bonkers... ah well... live and learn I guess... apparently the wise man learns from his mistakes...

So I am now hunting for other jobs... including applying for support worker jobs with the company I worked for until Friday.... I filled out all of their silly paper work today and have a whole world of training I need to be doing in the next few days... unfortunately because I've spent the last year judging other people on the quality of their paper work, mine now has to be perfect... which of course, it is :)

I have young Mr Hollis teaching me the ways of being gainfully unemployed, which I'm hoping will yield some results soon and I won't be left destitute on the streets in this weather!

In other news I'm spending Christmas with Ben's family which I'm rather anticipating will be filled with food, booze and outlandish cheating at board games... it'll be the first family Christmas I've had for about 7 years... I think I've forgotten how to do them... fitting into other people's traditions is always slightly stressful but luckily his family is lovely... so hopefully I will be ok... eep!

Right, enough of this time-wastery... I have a job to find.

Merry Christmas lovely people - have this as a gift... enjoy your childish wonder... ignore what the mean kids tell you... they're just mean because they'll be getting coal for Christmas.

Festive Pixie out

This is the end... beautiful friend

So my last day at work is next Friday... after that I will officially be unemployed ... oh dear.

The abject 'dear God I can't afford to pay my rent' panic has not quite set in yet... it will... very soon... but at the moment I'm still in the 'just make it through this last week' mode with a side helping of being very ill... there is a chance I may even have full on proper flu... I'm hoping it's just a horribly fevered cold and not anything more sinister... but my God I feel proper rotten.

I went to work yesterday feeling quite poorly, lost my voice by the time I got to work making me almost utterly useless and then had a seizure, making me fully useless... I went home and slept...and slept...and sweated...and slept... and coughed... and slept... and mostly kept Ben awake by sweating and coughing...

This morning I was up at 7.15 to go to work again (yes it is a Saturday) feeling utterly wretched... that mucus monster is out to get me again...

On the plus side, the news of my resignation was taken very well... my boss was really very lovely about the whole thing and the general concensus is that I will be missed but that my decision is being respected and that recruitment really isn't the right world for me. The notion of me either going back to school or getting some kind of support work role was met with rounds of approval... though I'm not sure she entirely believes I don't have another job to go to...

The lovely Mr Ben bought me flowers to say 'well done' and that he was proud of me for doing something so incredibly stupid ... I think my stupidity may be rubbing off on him... I'm not sure it's appropriate to buy flowers to say 'well done for quitting your job even though you don't have another one to go to and you may end up struggling to pay your rent next month'... nevertheless they were very gratefully received...maybe Hallmark could do a line on 'Congratulations, you've done something screamingly dumb' greetings cards!

So now I'm sitting at work blogging because I'm too ill to do anything meaningful and praying that the training will finish early so I can go home and go to bed before my head explodes, my back gives out, the mucus devours me whole, or something equally delightful occurs... blergh...

I shall keep you updated on my employment situation (because I like to think you care), though I very much doubt anything meaningful will happen before Christmas... so I'm just going to try and enjoy it and not think about the impending doom for a week or so at least!

Denial Pixie Out... cough, splutter... "I gots the black lung Pop"

Floating Upstream

It seems that I have been very wrong about this year... I started the year believing it was a new beginning, a fresh start, on to bigger and better things...

In retrospect, what it has been is a transitional year... not a new start but the end of some things, the consideration of others and indeed the beginning of even more.

Bob and I are now officially divorced - we even spoke last weekend - he called me... to say goodbye I think, more than anything else...
I cried... a lot... but it was good to speak with him and it be friendly... I'm very happy for him that he has a new girlfriend and seems to be doing something with his art work... may be one day we'll be able to be in the same place at the same time and it not be awful... it felt like a little bit of closure

I have been given this week to 'think about my future' within the company... I'm spending it worrying, trying to minimise my expenditure and looking for other jobs... I'm not what they need and this job is not what I need...

What I have realised is that a 'career' is not as important to me as I thought it was... if I cannot work as a counsellor until I have finished my training and I cannot finish my training until I have lots of money and lots of free time, then it doesn't really matter what I do for a living... if I can pay my bills and have enough money left over for beer and fags then that's ok...
I think I've finally worked out what is important to me... and a career isn't it...

The ones I love are important... getting a little joy out of life is important... being able to help other people with their problems because I'm not so wrapped up in my own, is important... wearing a suit to work and building the business... that's not important...

Even though when I go back to work next week, I'm going to throw away the only opportunity for a career I've ever had, I think that's ok... my measure of success has changed dramatically in the last year...

It doesn't matter what you do for a living as long as you're happy

So while this year has been a transitional year, perhaps next year will be the new start ... or perhaps it won't... but that's ok too...

I have a wonderful man, wonderful friends, wonderful family... everything else is really just secondary... and it will fall in to place.... eventually.

I love you guys

Epiphany Pixie Out

Anyone Can Play Guitar

So it seems that my worst fears have been realised and I've been discovered as a fraud and a charlatan...

Despite previous ramblings to the contrary, the powers that be at work have discovered that I am not in fact very good at my job... well... to clarify, I'm good at some bits of my job but utterly useless at the other bits... notably, the bits that make the company money or help it to grow as a viable business...

In the big 'team meeting' this week, I was told that were I not so awesome and brilliant at the bit of my job that essentially spends the company's money, they would struggle to know what to do with me... and given the recent shake ups that have been happening in the wider company (and my generally hightened state of heart attack inducing anxiety), I took that fairly badly... observe...

What was actually said:
"Bex, we really need you to be doing XYZ, it is obvious that you are really struggling with this, it makes you very uncomfortable and fairly unhappy and what we really need to be doing is focusing on generating revenue and playing to our worker's strengths. You are exceptional at ABC but were you not so exceptional at ABC I would really struggle to know what to do with you - when the training takes off I think you'll be exceptional and happy there too, but that won't be for a while - you're really more of an organiser and resourcer than a recruitment consultant or even an administrator, which is what we really need at this point - so essentially what we'll be doing is bringing someone in to generate business while you do the resourcing - obviously this will mean that the pay rise we promised you for the job you're meant to be doing won't be coming your way because you won't be doing that job - we will be changing your job title asap... that'll be better for everyone and make you more happy, won't it?"

What I heard:
"You're a bit useless really aren't you? You had us fooled for a while there but now, you're about a gnat's cock away from getting your useless, incapable of generating an income, lack of business acumen ass sacked... honestly, what do you think you're playing at? What have you actually been doing? No career or glowing prospects for you any more... I'll just take those back, thank you very much... Justify your existence... puny human... muhahahahaha"

What I said in response:
"Sniffle...erm...yes... sniffle... no no I don't disagree with anything you've said... sniffle sniffle... no no really, I'm not a recruitment consultant... snif snif... sob sob ... bawl...wail... weep... sob... *uncontrollable childlike sobbing infront of boss*... I'm sorry..."

How I now feel:
GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This happened on Wednesday, since then I've been mulling over everything and have come to the not particularly startling conclusion that I AM NOT A RECRUITMENT CONSULTANT... I have no desire to be a recruitment consultant, the only reason I took this job was because I needed a job in Bristol and it was in generally my field of interest (also it was better paid than the job I actually applied for)

So I now have no idea what to do... I love the people I work with, I like and respect the people I work for and can really see their vision and ethos for the future of the business working...if I weren't dragging them down... I should be counselling or working with kids or being a fusty academic or something... I just can't work in the world of business where turnover is the focus... I can't bear it... but I fear it may be impossible to escape it... and at the moment I can't see any feasible way of getting where I feel I should be...

...help...

In other news:
* Grandma's dying - she's gone in to renal failure and has about 6 months to live
* I have just signed my final lot of divorce papers
* My epilepsy appears to be getting worse - I'm putting it down to anxiety levels rather than anything more sinister
* My anxiety levels are such that I predict my own heart failure related death in about 10 years
* Ben has now seen me cry... and dealt with it perfectly
* It's Matt *insert degrading Facism related comment here* Smith's birthday party today and I intend to burn things and get very very drunk
* This made me laugh




See you all in the world

Confused and anxious Pixie Out