Pants, generals, pants and more pants

Not 4 yet but I feel a need to vent cos today has been pretty pants thus far.

Firstly, the General. The General that's now dead after facing the firing squad. Can't have that kind of pants general in charge of the troops! So got a new one. Turns out that General isn't much better. A bit whiny and soft. Doesn't really have the balls for a war or that look of wanting to kill in the white of the eye. So might just kill the second General too. And then sleep with the enemy.

Then it turns out I can't leave Woolwich Arsenal on a Sunday. This has happened before, but I thought that was a one off. Yeah I can understand that the rest of the world doesn't want the riff raff to get out on the day of the Christan Lord to pollute the street but I don't belong to them! I knew this was a bad idea. I LOVE my flat more than most things in this world, even more than most people, but I HATE Woolwich scum Arsenal. Outside the walls... Well you don't want to go there. And, as I noted the last time I got a 'little' tipsy (12 September 2008 - let's not talk about that!), it's impossible to get home after a night on the town. Good thing I no longer frequent drinking establishments with any regularity so therefore am not at risk of having to try to find my way home after 8pm when the trains stops for the weekend.

And as if these things weren't bad enough. There I am, in a coffee shop, with my EecPC working away, creating some very good stuff about something you can read when the novel is finished and published, and then the EecPC turns out to be a piece of crap like everything else I own - my iPod, the Flamingo, my flat - all the things I love basically (and I could actually put the x on this list too come to think about it, though here it would be a big loveD). So now I don't feel like writing anymore, and I don't like it even though it's cute.

So I came back home. And now I'm considering if I should be in a bad mood or not over today, but it seems like so much effort. Both to make the decision and to be in a bad mood. PANTS!

To have or not to have

a personal trainer.

I’ve hummed and hawed about this topic previously – if a personal trainer is a good idea or just a waste of money. Back then though my motives for thinking about this was slightly untainted; back then it was all about if a personal trainer could help with motivation, get me fitter and faster quickly and whether or not I really wanted someone to annoy me by telling me what to do. After my experience in the gymnasium today during my lunch hour I am now again wondering if I should indeed get myself a personal trainer but this time for somewhat different reasons.

Let’s also cast our memories back to how much I’m against flirtation in the gym. I believe it’s wrong, the gym is not a place to grow acquaintances, friendships, finding a lady or man friend for any purpose and I personally hate men trying to chat me up while I’m running or whatever it is what I’m doing at the time. But hey, there’s men and then there’s this man.

This man, a man with perfect arms, an ass to die for, three day stubble, brown almost black eyes, of reasonable height and who I would bet several hundred on not running like a girl could be mine for half an hour once a week for a small sum of money. A personal trainer.

But this is where it gets complicated and the flirtation thing starts getting in the way of the objective. Firstly, I obviously would have to be in mega shape before hand. Then there would be the attire. No more three sizes too large t-shirts left over from the time of x, no more hair in any shape as long as it’s not in my face, no more who cares if the mascara is under my eyes – I’m here to exercise and I came straight from work. Instead there would have to be perfection. Something I’m not even good at when I don’t have my ex boyfriend’s t-shirt stuck to my body, pearls of sweet running down my face and red cheeks. Which I believe I have the right to be/have (tis in the constitution even) when I’m at the gym.

A girl my age needs her crushes, but as far as training goes I think I will continue without this perfect personal trainer and save my money for some other crush (like a pair of shoes! so much more fun and longer lasting that boys anyway!) But at least he might prove a temporary incentive to go to the gym even more often.

Me & Jesus under the Full Moon

What is it with me and churches? Why is it that I don’t have a normal relationship with these buildings of worship? Instead I end up sleeping in them when I’m drunk and missed the last tube, or being threatened with the rage of angels if I don’t come and pray (I was busy snogging one of the elder’s son I’ll have you know!). And today.

So, I spent this evening in church. An amazing church at that. Gothic with arches and very old, and no less than three crucified Jesus crosses and one Mary and baby. I’ve always loved churches because they’re so beautiful, but I still believe that I don’t need a church to be close to ‘God’ or whatever we want to call it/him/her. Which is why I went to church this evening. I went to dance to find something inside me.

I know that this is going to make me sound even more hippie than ginseng and meditation and half of my friends will probably remove me from their list now. This is something I would expect Cinna to do, not me. But see, I’m learning. I’m becoming aware and enlightened, and I believe.

5 Rhythms Full Moon Dance is what I did this evening. I’ve wanted to go for a considerable time, but not until tonight did I manage to get someone to come with me (and I was too chicken to go on my own). The moon is in Virgo and this means it’s a healing moon – just so you know. The 5 rhythms are flowing, staccato, chaos, lyrical and stillness, and to these you… move, dance, jump, whatever. It’s like a rave without the drunkenness and E (not that I’ve ever been to a rave or taken E for that matter but I have been known to frequent certain rock clubs in my days and, while drowning myself in the tipple of the evening, jump up and down to the likes of Metallica, Smashing Pumpkins and all their friends) with Jesus watching you. During the chaos it was like the entire room was talking to him/her/it and in tongues, just vocalising by not actually using real words. You had to be there.

But this is all really about going back to basics. The shamans and tribes all over the world use dance as a way to communicate with spirits. Meditation has been around since the dinosaurs. And we are all a piece of this Universe. We are all a piece of each other, Energy. It’s all about what you have in you, be it god, spirit, soul or whatever. You can’t find the essential essence in other people, or in stuff. You have it inside you.

And now I ramble because there’s so much I actually want to say but I also want to take a shower and go to bed and not go to work tomorrow so I’ll stop here before it becomes completely disjointed.

I found my first Moon Dance amazing, calming, meditative, a great workout and I’m so going back next full moon!

In My Fridge

4 small pots of yogurt
spicy BBQ sauce
almost empty ketchup bottle
soy sauce
1 garlic bulb
half a jar of capers
some stock cubes
a jar with about two tea spoons of raspberry jam
half a jar of Dijon mustard
2 eggs
100 assorted colours of nail polish

New York New York - worth the price?

When I started planning for my summer in New York back in August of 1820 (or that's perhaps only what it feels like and it was more like August 2008) my greatest worry was that I wouldn't get the time off work. The pound was sky high, I was rocketing around the Universe (not because of mediation! or substance abuse!), my creativity was painting rainbows and life couldn't have been more overflowing with possibilities of greatness and adventure and... erm... love.

In October I secured the time off, in January I booked my ticket, and the Universe seemed set on me going there to finally do whatever it is I want to do there. But things that from the beginning are simple and without obstacles can of course change in a New York minute. The pound is worth nothing so no matter how much I manage to save I'll still have less than I though, and there are also other matters that are just not wanting to work out.

I have by no means given up on the idea. I'm being mature and am acknowledging that it might not happen in the end, and have come down from my rocket trip, but I'm still saving money like a capitalist swine and am investing in products (like the Bat Netbook) that are really for my time there. I'm not buying shoes despite having sever withdrawal that makes me spend forever looking at them and even at one point picking them up and petting them in a shop (not sad!), only three books since January (which must be a bloody world record), and generally depriving myself things.

But here comes the question - how healthy is it to deprive myself of life for six months just so that I can live for three? I need a new mascara - can't afford it as budget spent; I need money on my phone - can't afford it as budget spent; I need new jeans (NEED not just want) - can't afford it; I want (yup, surely I must be allowed to want things) Starbucks in the morning - can't afford it as that will make me spend over the allotted £15/wk. In order to stay within the budget, I shouldn't go to lunch with my colleagues, drink coffee bought in a cafe, go to the £5 meditation at Leicester Sq on Saturdays, eat food, have the heating on more than an hour a day or something, go to the cinema, have people over for lunch, visits etc etc. Lucky I'm temporarily not drinking alcohol or that would be another thing gone. Living like that might be great for saving and for me to have a nice time in New York, but I will by no means have a lot of money anyway.

When I return in September, with my massive credit card bill because my savings will only go so far and I want to do things - what's the point otherwise?, I will basically be back in the same position: months of not spending to get rid of debt.

So is it worth it just so that I can live my dream for three months? Is it? I don't know anymore. All I know is that I crave shoes, mascara, face cream, books, shoes, clothes, socks without holes in them, shoes, coffee, days/nights out with friends, shoes - a life!

But since I've started, and have after all booked my ticket, I suppose I'll just trundle on then. I'm not deciding if I'm going until May time. But by then I might be so isolated and anti-social from not seeing anyone because I can't afford to, and gone totally rabid by not talking to anyone (apart from Ivan in work and that's not very helpful!) that I'll be sectioned anyway. Perhaps the better idea is to spend time in the little shed in Somerset and accept that while New York would be cool and so much fun and it would be so fantastic to live a part of my dream, maybe it’s not a necessity. The jury is still out.

screaming kids, meditation and ginseng

You're not allowed to say things to others children, or make faces at them, or help with their general upbringing when they're behaving like bloody brats. No, as a member of the public you just have to smile and be forgiving. But honestly, when I at 7.30 this morning had to listen to a brat screaming the DLR down and demanding that she get my seat I seriously wanted to tell that child to suck it up and learn that you don't get what you want in life and she'd better get used to it. I actually think it would have been my right and, more importantly, duty to help this clearly incapable mother to raise her child to be a useful member of society and not a whimpering snotty pain in the ass. O

bviously to make the kid shut up I offered my seat to it in the end. And the mother had the nerve to say to the kid that a lot of people are grumpy in the morning - hello! I was in a great mood until your ill behaved devil child started having a tantrum. (This happened to me on my flight to New York in August as well, but no way was I going to give up my seat, that I had booked 24 hrs in advance, to some snotty kid. We made friends though, and she held my hand. Kids seem to like me, as does animals, for some strange reason.) (And Cinna, I apologize for defending your stepchild!) But because I'm now meditating again I didn't let the icky child really get to me, just a little evil emanating from my eyes its way, that all.

So yes, am back to my hippie ways and I must say that even though I only stated on Monday evening again I am already feeling an improvement. I can feel my chakras opening up dude, the energy flowing, and I am certainly less tired. (And now I need to get flairs, flowers in my hair, a joint, some acid and off I go...) I think Ginseng is working too - it's meant to make you concentrate better and since concentration difficulties is a by-product of the thing in my life I though I'd try something. However, I realise that I might be more bareable for the people in my life if I'm actually diluted, and a concentrated me might be a little too much. Hmmm. Let's see how I go...