Today's protests in Manchester's Piccadilly Gardens sees 400 Greater Manchester Police deployed. A live stream of the protest, that actually buffered more than it streamed, was hosted on Facebook by the user account The Manc.
It seemed that even the most fundamental aspect of the event, like who was protesting what, could not be agreed upon by anyone, down to the comment posters on the live feed.
Former EDL leader Tommy Robinson seems to be credited with the planning of the gathering, and the core slogan appeared to be centred around fighting extremism. And of course, the "opposition" were represented.
Who on EARTH has a problem with combating extremism?!
And why aren't THEY the ones being arrested and investigated.
I don't want to be misunderstood or have anything I say misconstrued by someone, so here is the tedious disclaimer.
I am not aligned with the "Right" or the "Left". I remain in keeping with my long-standing, widely known disposition on the values of individuality, self-determination, and general independence from ANY group or societal construct that upholds archaic or ethically questionable views.
(or, any views whatsoever!)
Both of my parents were of the opinion that one shouldn't even publicly discuss one's voting decisions.
They believed that those privacy curtains were applicable metaphorically, even once you'd left the polling station. I didn't appreciate how cool that was until I was in my twenties.
I also never saw either of them engaged in an argument with anyone. I guess they were politically correct before the term ever came about.
And just so we know the landscape, I grew up in one of THE most racist little Southern U.S. towns in history. (And, yes, it made the history books for a series of embarrassing race related reasons in the 1960's.) Here, again, I cite a very early causative factor in the formation of my Not-In-Any-Way Affiliated-With stance on any general consensus formed by more than a handful of people.
Now, I said all that to say this:
When a country finds itself under assault, it will generally seek out that enemy and eliminate it as a threat. This particular dilemma is taking the shape of War Without End because of the delicate nature of the surrounding considerations.
Namely, race and religion.
So, the Realm is paralyzed in a multitude of ways.
How can we neutralize the threat if every move made to organize a concerted effort to address the problem is met with the systematic marginalization of the ultimate goal of those who would see the country made safe for it's citizens?
If a group protests the imposition of Sharia law in this country, they are automatically thick, racist Little Englanders.
There are existing codes of law in the United Kingdom and the United States that are in no way congruous to the inclusion of a separate rule of law for ANY group of people, (with the exception of indigenous tribal codes that exist much in the same way sovereignty of states exist, and with the same Federal subjugation.)
In fact, both countries have fought wars to ensure the protection of it's citizens from laws based on religion.
The United Kingdom has a long, bloody history intertwined with the divisions of governance of specific religious alignments and beliefs.
Why would any religion or group of people approach a nation, in some cases, asking for safety from persecution by their religious laws, only to seek to establish that same system of law inside the asylum of the new nation?
And why would anyone who hates Western Christians or people of other faiths, or lack thereof, want to go live amongst them?
Do they mean to integrate and be a part of the new culture?
Then, is it to infiltrate and annihilate?
Well, we already know, don't we? Because they tell us.
They have been clear on the plan for some time.
And, in the case of European-wide terrorism, I would assert that the liberal human rights that we all value and support have enabled these groups more than anything else.
I don't have a position or assertion as to what I think should be done.
I am not a counter-terrorism expert and I don't promote extremism in government any more than I would in fringe elements.
But, for all the success that those who are seem to be achieving, I might as well be!
This looks like it's resolution-proof.
Minds and hearts aren't going to be suddenly shifted to reasonable settings.
Activities are not going to cease being carried out.
So, where does that leave us?
At perpetual risk?
We changed how we live years ago.
We saw it coming because we could see what was happening around us.
What a classy way of announcing it, eh?
Sort of belies the reality that I may be a bit young to be a Granny.....
I'm rapidly adjusting to the moniker, though. I haven't even held her yet, but just looking at her
ignites every one of my fifty gajillion maternal genomes!
Still can't get over the fact that el hijo numero uno has spawned!!!
I am to be called Mimi.
I still want another baby myself, but I know there's no chance I'd ever have a girl.
I've always known I'd only have sons.
And, hilariously, I always said I bet I'd end up with a gaggle of Granddaughters.
She's called Adeline Harper, and I hope that is an homage to Harper Lee and not the Beckham baby.
I haven't enquired, as I'd rather hang out with my assumption than face some embarrassing notion.
It's a sweet little name, as surely, by any other, she would still be as sweet.
Here's a birthday photo....
And the Happy Parents....
I totally understand the Grandparent bragging thing now!!!
You know, I'm so glad I thwarted convention, now I'll be around much longer than if I'd adhered to societal norms, (for ONCE in my life)! I'd love to say it was insight and prior planning, but it was just Kismet! Serendipity!
Before I'd ever had a chemically induced surreal experience, I recall life striking me as incredibly odd.
On a fairly regular basis.
I put it down to being a child and that everything was pretty weird anyway, so,
I never really thought a great deal about it. I just enjoyed it since I couldn't change it.
I wasn't one of those kids that panicked when the round-about went too fast.
On the swings, I would swing as high as I could then, JUMP!
Even giving birth didn't make me fearful.
It made me fierce.
It's losing control, even if only a delusional control, of particular things, that ever made me panic.
I was physically ill, so the panic was generating mostly from that.
I am well. I no longer panic.
But, the thing is, sometimes I feel like I should.
Sometimes I feel like I ought to be freaking the fuck out and that this facade we all wear, acting like everything's gonna be alright, is our contract with death.
It promises our demise in every way that matters.
I am in a somber, Wintertime place. I love these kinds of days.
When you just feel like some Moz, or Interpol, and some momentary melancholy, mind over time.
I live in Europe.
Regardless of Brexit and the establishment of the European Super State, England can't be geo-politically edited out of Europe. It's a region, we're a part of it.
It affects us.
In Rouen, as I am so sure the whole world has heard by now, a church was attacked, a priest slain before his parish,and others seriously injured.
This is cowardice at it's height.
There is no reason to go conjuring up the Crusades to excavate enemies of Islam.
There are plenty that have been cultivated in the last few weeks.
I have said before, and I humbly apologise to anyone that this may offend, but, when I learn that someone is specifically religious, I am learning a multitude of things about them by-proxy.
Given to belief in fairy tales.
Easily manipulated and convinced.
Of below average intelligence, no matter how well educated.
So shit scared of dying, any old fiction will assuage the fear.
I could continue, but it's tedious.
I come from people who fit this format on some level or other.
Either that, or they were all just of a generation that had yet to pose any substantial questioning to the established order of things on very many planes of existence.
At any rate, I said all that to say this:
Something must be done.
At risk is the very essence of a way of life, for which many truly righteous have died.
And a drive for Truth, even if it only lives and breathes in the moment that it pertains to that which we would have it applied.
These are virtuous endeavours.
The imposition of a rule of law that is not in concert with our own values, and the insistence in a belief system that is not only foreign to our own, but stands in direct defiance of our casting away of many antiquated, barbaric, and inhumane practices, is beyond an illogical expectation.
We could not submit to this, even if we were to be defeated.
So, that leaves war.
Because, otherwise, if we launch an attack on our own way of life in the name of safety and security, we lose.
They will have triumphed merely in the alteration of that which we professed to hold as sacred.
Lilly livered Liberals may label it racist, or whatever the PC shaming brigade can summon up to refer to it as, but, these are all the people who would have objected to standing up to Hitler for fear of offending him.
Call these people who and what they are.
Protectorates general of Fascism and Dictatorship.
Murderers of Liberty.
Because they have become everything they abhor in the effort to eradicate that which they claim to abhor.
It's like the image of the snake, circling around to bite it's own tale.
They become that which they hate.
I would have done with the lot of them.
There is a time for bloodshed and revolution.
And the revolution may not always take the shape of The People vs The Government.
Sometimes, it is as simple as The People vs The Thing That Would Take Them Down, whatever that happens to be.
I will not pass this world, as it is, on to my children.
I will do something to impart some change for the better.
My sword seems to be the written word.
So, I will strike with that, in the hopes that any blow I land against the Beast that threatens us all
will strengthen or inspire someone similarly inclined to do what they can with whatever they find their sword to be.
An old friend that I've known my entire life sent a message through my Mom
asking me to call him. Unless I mean to be found, I cannot be found, but, I am really easy to get a message to. We have the same phone number that we had when I was in Kindergarten.
Mom said he was telling her how he'd bought a place on the river and that he's got the yacht on his own dock. He's been running an antique business and apparently it's doing pretty well.
He told Mom that he would pay for me and Thomas to come home, just call.
Well, I am ALWAYS suspicious of people's motives, but never more so than when they're slinging their money around to achieve them.
He and I have had discussions in the past about how we've wasted more money than most of our school mates will ever see. That we've had charmed lives. We've both survived near death events that, (and this bit is one of our really weird shared coincidences,) landed us in the same hospital, on the same ward, just a few doors down from each other, on the very same day.
He had been electrocuted by a power line whilst doing yard work for some lady, and he'd thrown his Hudson sprayer up in the air, not really paying any attention to the fact he was under the power line.
The sprayer's hose wrapped around the line and just hung there. The woman came out bitching up a storm and demanded he get it down. This fella is lucky in ways that only the seriously stupid get lucky. He grabs some implement and begins trying to dislodge the sprayer. I don't know what he thought was going to happen, but he lit up like a Christmas tree and started shooting plasma from various parts of his person. His knee, where a metal snap on his shorts was touching his skin, his wrist where his watch was, and a few other places I can't really recall. And in the process, his internal organs are cooking with the 26,000 volts or something to that effect, that was coursing through him. Another friend of ours happened to be driving by at this precise moment and saw what was happening. He jumped out of his car, grabbed a huge tree branch that had just been cut that day, and knocked him loose from the current.
Nobody knows how he survived this. When they opened him up in surgery, (I was in the surgical theatre next to him at the time having my life saved,) they said some bits looked like they'd been seared in for flavour, ready to pop in the over to cook the rest of the way.
The following months was a tricky phase, he had some health problems and wasn't sure if they would ever resolve. But, they did eventually.
A friend of ours who was a former State senator now practicing law told him he needed to sue the woman. Her homeowner's insurance probably payed it, I don't know. I don't see how someone telling you to do something stupid after you've just done something stupid is THEIR fault if you lack the sense to not do it. I am sure the grammar of that last sentence is all kinds of wrong, but I'm willing to let it go if you can!
So, anyway, he got this unbelievable amount of money and blew through it in less than six months.
But, he's made and blown a few million since we were 25.
He used to drive a truck and would call me in the middle of the night from all over the country telling me what he was looking at was making him think of me.
He has always told me that I had so warped his expectations of what he wanted in a woman that no other woman has ever done it for him. That's really sweet. I love him to pieces, but I know what he's aiming for now. It was the same just before I left to come here.
He was going on and on about me having his children and us living in some fabulous old house that he'd finance getting it just the way I wanted it. He wanted to buy me a Karmenghia, and a Land Rover Discovery for the farm. He inherited acreage when his Dad died.
I broke down and contacted him on Faceplate.
Right after he said Hi, how are you, he sent a picture of him at that very moment with about seven thousand dollars fanned out like cards in his hand, eyes peering over the top.
I said, "OHH, you're a rapper now! Cool."
"No," he said, "It's just how it is!"
I have never been moved by money. It's not enough to bridge the gap between liking someone and not being able to live without someone. If I am going to be with someone, I prefer to require them to live and breathe properly. I wanna be in love. I like being adored. I need that almost as much as I need to adore the person I'm with. But, it can't be the placeholder for my undying affection.
I've had loads of opportunities to be a money grubbing slag, but it's just not my style.
I'd rather make my own money and call my own shots AND be head over heels in love with someone. I couldn't even talk to him after that.
The conversation was so terse, all coming from me, not him. I just signed out and went to bed.
Why can't I be shallow and self-serving and do something that would benefit my boys.
Why isn't it enough for me to be loved, deeply, by someone?
Why do I always prefer some tortured genius who is completely preoccupied with something other than me?
Maybe I'm the lucky idiot.
Passing up an opportunity to be happy because happy isn't really what I'm after.
I guess I am addicted to my melancholy.
Nothing annoys me worse than made up compound names for couples and/or situations.
Fortunately, that tendency seems to be on it's way out.
Along with any British subservience to the European Union.
Whilst this gives me immense pleasure on behalf of my ancestral blood and current national identity, it also gives me a fair amount of anxiety about what is to come.
When his Lordship came into my room this morning at dark thirty and announced in a whisper that it was final, "We're Out!", the first thing that popped into my (apparently) highly colonised Yankee mind was, "this must be what it was like to hear that South Carolina had seceded from the Union..."
Yeah, I felt terribly American right that second.
That's not something that happens all that often.
This is something that I feel tied into on a genetic level.
Some things, it's definitely that deep.
I would say I certainly feel that strongly about the national sovereignty issue.
Definitely about opposition to federal rule by un-elected individuals.
When I first got here and began to shape my assessments of the reality, my views were
very clearly cemented in a belief that Britain needed a pathway out of the E.U.
And my views have nothing whatsoever to do with any Right-wing mentality, xenophobia, racism, ignorance, any of the things the other camp want to marginalise the common sense of leaving into in order to undermine the validity of the democratic process.
I don't aim to be long-winded.
His Lordship and I have been engaged in intense conversation all evening and the sun is peering onto the backside of our grey cloud cover this fine, Northern English morning.
I am finally, off to bed. Dizzy from Cava. Maybe taking two steps where one would have sufficed....
But, I am finally, after years of an oppressive Tory regime, relieved.
I am certain it will be tumultuous.
I am sure it will be difficult.
Definitely charged with more irritating rhetoric than I can possibly imagine bearing.
But, it is the declaration of independence of a nation from tyranny.
I have been witness to that.
It is an historically monumental event that will give rise to the re-birth of a truly Great Britain.
If the Celts weren't such self-interested whingers, they would be on board for the journey to something better. But, the dour infants are going to spit their dummies out and throw their toys from the pram and have a little red-faced fit.
Off you go, Scotland.
But, I'd make sure there's going to even BE an E.U. to apply for membership to before I scheduled a date for ANOTHER referendum on independence from the UK.
We're already hearing talk of implementing an E.U. rule to a second referendum on Brexit.
It's been decided. Deal with it!
We just have to sit out all the tantrums that are to come.
I wish I knew how long to project it lasting, but I fear it will trudge on way past anything tolerable.
It has been surreal watching something that really needed to happen actually happen.
And then, on the heels of that, Cameron is actually keeping a promise to resign!
Strange days indeed.
I have never been a drinker.
I have always put this down to the fact that I've been an Olympic puker my whole life and
just couldn't keep it down long enough to justify the effort required to be a successful drinker.
This puts me at odds with my English lineage.
My American family were religious types,(obviously), so, no one in the family drank either.
Except my "Irish" grandmother, who, turns out, was only terribly English in the first place,
just the ginger variety, with maternal ancestry of Kilpatrick nature.
On that side, my Great-great Grandfather and his brother, born in Gloucester and London, respectively, apparently entered the US at the turn of the 20th Century, no less than three times, using aliases and varying countries of origin on ship manifests, for what could have only been "interesting" reasons.
That's the shady side of my maternal line.
No doubt, where I get my black sheep behaviour!!
They went on to be preachers in little Southern towns, and gave birth to big shots who ran coal towns and moonshine in fast cars. They were good-looking, loaded, and above suspicion so they never got caught. And fortunately, prohibition didn't last ALL that long!
I had the most gorgeous black and white photo of my sixteen year old Nanny and her cousin, topless under some denim overalls, standing in rows of high cotton, drinking bottled cokes.
Would have made the greatest ad campaign!
The last week or so, I've discovered Champagne in a way that I had never previously understood it.
I've had a bottle to myself, per evening, and no headache, no hangover, no unpleasantness whatsoever. In fact, it's been pure, numbed up bliss.
I've also been drinking aloe juice, which has bits of plant material in the juice.
And it's really good with tukmaria seeds that have been rehydrated into what looks like pale caviar.
My other recent fetish is freshly baked naan bread from a friend's restaurant. If I had these treats daily for the rest of my life, I would be such a happy and contented lass.
Whilst I have no intention of becoming an alcoholic, I can totally see going on little binges where I indulge in a few evenings of bubbly bliss once in a while. The only other drink that has held any remote promise for me is Absinthe. When I first got to Europe, it was high on my to-do list, so I got about it straight away and loved it! Again, no headaches, no hangovers, that's a requirement with me! I cannot be bothered otherwise.
I am a pleasure seeker. I've been visited with so much agony that I don't even feel hedonistic about it. My tendency to seek pleasure or relief is just not something I will ever apologise for. I am never departed from my awareness, which is nothing short of a cruel and unusual state of being. I never have to hear about my behaviour from anyone else, I always have a running tally of the score. I don't see how releasing the pressure valve is doing anything but good in my case!
When a relationship begins to resound with echoing death knells, it's fairly unmistakable. I have known for a very long time that this would occur. And, honestly, it's been degrading since the moment it began.
I blame myself.
So does he.
In fact, he not only heaps all the blame on me, but all the responsibility as well. Furthering the opportunity for more blame to be upon my head when I inevitably can't manage with both hands tied behind my back and all the odds stacked up against me.
I have talked about it all I wish to talk about it.
I have cried all the tears I had for something that just never really fully took shape.
I just want it to end.
It's so very ugly. So rude. So low class. Belligerent.
I would prefer to just dust off my hands and walk away.
And that's not going to happen.
The fight hasn't even begun.
I have been gone so long, I can't go home.
I have been too long in exile.
So, where to from here? Now, after a last ditch effort at pair bonding, which is very clearly not for me, I can get on with living a free, independent life. I suppose I was so easily given to the fantasy of love and marriage. Probably one of the only ways in which societal norms made any impression on me whatsoever. I wanted to believe it was possible. I wanted to experience it.
Nothing cures love quite like marriage.
There's no need to drone on and on.
I just needed to lament a bit.
I was just scrolling through youtube vids of Moz and came across this. I'm pretty impressed!
Feels like that long since I wrote here.
I feel secretive, guarded, and exposed as I poise to write.
I have not written in the full length of time I have been gone from here. I occasionally fall mute, to the unconcealed surprise of those who know me. It isn't within my nature to be quiet, much less brief. But, twice in my life, I have been struck mute by the gravity of the reality in which I have found myself. And not for a moment, but for months. I spoke to someone the other night, and they said something to me that made me feel so much self-pity, I was suddenly very uncomfortable in my own skin.
I spoke of my situation, gave, perhaps, too many insights and details about my own life, and this young man said, with such wisdom, "You seem so happy and full of life, how do you bear all this sadness and keep it from owning your spirit?"
I very nearly burst into tears.
I felt my throat and cheeks go really tight. I tried to swallow and could not move any of the muscles involved in doing so. My face flushed and I felt my eyes sting with the arrival of acid tears.
I had to look out the window and I made a sound I thought I could pass off as laughter, then quickly drew it back before it erupted into the hysterics underneath it.
This boy of 24, another child with grey hair, just like I was at his age, is also possessed of an old, old soul.
I turned my focus to the rarity of his understandings and awareness of others, life, and what it really means, and how few people so young have any momentary notion of such things. Few people of any age have that kind of insight into others. It comes from a unique understanding of the self to be able to conceive of another's sadness, especially when it isn't even expressed by the owner.
The drive home in that Transit van, from Fallowfield back to Salford, was eternal. I didn't think we'd ever get home. I had to steer the conversation away from where I had so carelessly allowed it to drift. After that, I wouldn't go back over there. It's like someone's teenage son saw me naked. I don't see twenty-something's as anything but babies because my older sons are around that age now. He wouldn't believe me about the older boys. I had to show my passport to get him to believe I wasn't joking about being forty-something. He thought I was just giving him lines to let him down easy. No, I just don't get romantic with men younger than me. Never have.
It's not fair to them. And there's that whole thing about being married....I'm fairly hung-up on not wrecking my promises. I don't think he'd care or even notice, but that isn't the point. Sadly, some of it is good, old-fashioned, self-righteousness. Which I've become fairly adept at feeling with an amnesic leaning of about 90 degrees. From up-right, to prostrate in half an arch.
Anyway, the rest of it is that I'm so uptight now, I'm not likely to ever recline in anyone's grasp. Promise breaking or not.
It's strange to make departures and returns to places purely internal. But, this is one of those houses I've built in my head. The places where I dwell upon things, feelings, situations, people, whatever it is I've drug back with me from an overdose of social interfacing.
I crawl back into my tower and find a dark, quiet spot to sleep it all off. It reminds me of being ill. When I used to land in bed for nine days at a time. I have all these criteria about what a bed should be like because I am so known to taking to mine for indefinite periods of time. A big fluffy, but supportive mattress, some memory foam, high-quality down feathers in doubled high thread count Egyptian cotton. About 55 degrees fahrenheit.
Sleep restores sanity. I spent the last six months or so throttling around, staying up for two days at a stretch and frequently falling asleep standing up. (I was working ridiculous hours, but, I got a serious LOAD of things accomplished!)
I had to stop all that. I'm not immortal or invincible anymore. There were a few days where I would be climbing the stairs, thoroughly exhausted, and I would actually wonder what could be wrong with me. UHH, YOU HAVEN'T SLEPT OR EATEN IN 36 HOURS....YOU NEED A SNACK AND A NAP, YOU STUPID COW!!
So, I accomplished what I was so hellbent and motivated to do, now it's all down to casual maintenance. I had days of such frustration and rage, my chest would have sharp shooting pains and my blood pressure would sky rocket. So, all those little ailments that used to come to the surface when I was ill when I was younger, they seem to merely have receded and be waiting in the wings for further breakdown in my body. I am able to stave off so much by sleeping. But, I marathon sleep. I have heard that too much sleep isn't great for you. Too much of anything....
But, I still sleep like a drugged up teenager. I expect to get 12 hours a night.
What the last six months has taught me is what kind of a husband I actually have. He is, ohhh boy, pissing me off right this second. I'll have to get back to you on extolling the virtues of What's-His-Face.
My train of thought has chugged off in the distance and left me here with my rambling blog post...
And His Lordship aggravating me.
Post Script: I meandered off and was reading on the main page of the site, and I see Mexrrissey...
I Google, snag Youtube, and find International Playgirl at the top, I click, and, HAVE YOU HEARD THIS YET?!?!?!?
It's fucking BRILLIANT!!
I'm in love with this!!
Mexico loves Moz so much, I've been up in the middle of that, and it's frenetic and passionate and, Oh...it's amazing! It makes you want to be Mexican so you can love him a little more than your white, anglo-saxon, once-upon-a-time-protestant-arse allows!!
If you haven't heard it yet,here it is.
I'm a bit slow on the uptake sometimes, I used to catch it all before it came out, but apparently, those days are done!! hahah!
Anyway, it's lovely!!
I have never really appreciated unsolicited advice.
I don't "take" it.
I don't take orders, either.
I will seek out things I need to know.
And as far as orders go, I've been running my own little show for ages and I will continue to do so.
I don't get off on being bossy, and I certainly won't allow someone to boss me around.
There are some females in my sphere that fancy themselves as foremen. They like to tell others what to do.
Now, any of you that have read more than a paragraph or two of my blogs over the years will know exactly how this strikes me! Not very well at all!
A few weeks ago, there were two women in my house for what seemed like an eternity. In reality, it was only a few hours. A few hours in hell.
We decide to order Chinese for dinner.
They say they want KA-shoe chicken, (cashew, for those of us who know how to pronounce it!)
I'm on the phone, calling in the order, and whilst speaking to the person on the other end, one of those mispronouncing the word, keeps repeating it in a volume just loud enough to cancel out my voice.
This is violating TWO principles, I simply cannot tolerate it! One is correcting one's speech or grammar.
The other is speaking when someone else is on the phone. And, to make a finer point about correcting, you need to be pretty damn sure you're right when correcting someone else publicly, or privately, for that matter. But, to do it in front of someone AND be wrong is just vile. How humiliating for them! And of course, my position would be compromised if I were to condescend and break my own rules and say something about it, so I remain quiet for this display. I quietly saw red.
Oh yes, someone else does it!
A fetus no older than my oldest son comes over to bring her son to play with Thomas. Now, I have previously gotten on with her just fine. She is a mental midget, but, never mind, so is half the planet.
I was doing the dishes and commented in passing that I'd failed to rinse the pan that I'd made the cous-cous in. "the what?" it says. So I repeat it for her, assuming she's never heard of it.
"cuss cuss, " it says.
"cous-cous." says I.
"cuss cuss, " it has the audacity to insist at me.
"That's not what I said, and if you EVER correct me again, you will get fast tracked to my shit list."
It must think I'm joking.
So, I relay the above mentioned story about KA-shoe chicken. I outline it is an unforgivable transgression in my world to correct someone, especially if they are your senior. Then, I outline that it's even worse to be wrong and yet, immovably insistent.
And then I chastised her for forcing me to commit a social faux-pas in correcting her rudeness.
Since I was on such a role, telling truths and setting people straight, (MY GOD IT FEELS FANTASTIC!!!!)
I went ahead and told a few more people some home truths.
I didn't know at the time what could have possibly possessed me to do something so utterly out of character. (I did figure out the next day that it must have been estrogen. It usually is when I wax all brash and bold like that!)
Now, once upon a time, in America, I was very outspoken and took no shit nor prisoners. But, I was a different person then. I just don't start stuff.
I'll finish it. But I don't start it.
And I have NEVER approved of ANY social behaviour that causes another embarrassment or to be uncomfortable at all. I know we all fall short of our own ideals about conduct from time to time without knowing it, but I won't ever consciously try to make someone feel bad or belittle them in any way.
Unless, of course, they're just begging me to.
If someone pushes and blatantly demands that someone restore their self-awareness, I'll oblige.
But, I won't do it without coercion.
I think people may suggest things sometimes and not necessarily mean to come off as giving advice or being bossy, but I just happen to know that these particular people are very keen on giving orders just for the sake of giving orders. Like, it gets them off in some way, or something. Getting to pretend to be in charge must be such a rush for simple minds.
I don't get this. It screams insecurity, low-self-worth, possible past victimization, the kind of personalities that become cops in order to bully society because they themselves have been bullied. I don't like people who want to control others. I am suspicious of them on every level. I think everyone should self-govern and I honestly don't want to be around people who need someone else to manage them. Self-govern, or get consequences. No one should really require being told what to do. The notions of right and wrong, adherence to the law, and a certain level of politeness, you should be good to go. I don't need an overseer.
It is my opinion that what we do when no one else can see is who we are. I always do a good job when I am working on something. Not because I am afraid someone will find out if I didn't. But because I would know I hadn't done my best. My conscience is plenty to keep me in line. I am already bossing myself around, adding a conflicting voice to the mix is redundant.
I don't think I'm being contrary, either. I always know when I have found a superior and yield in such circumstances. I just can't stomach being expected to genuflect at a moron.
I am in the land of Scots.
I am so happy when I'm here!
Everywhere I look, there is something else I absolutely adore. It is such a gorgeous day.
We woke up early, there are some very posh boys from down South back in England that are staying with us this year. They are blond, have perfect tv teeth, and are so polite, well spoken and cute!
I'm so accustomed to the usual theatre tech piss head who drinks too much every night and has to be poured into bed by someone. These boys came in early, played backgammon, as they do most nights, and brushed their teeth before bed! I was so impressed! I have to wrestle my children to the loo three times a day and stand over them, or, as with Tommy, since he's only little, help brush teefies.
We went to breakfast this morning at a new cafe.
It was so good, the bread was fresh baked, right there, and was dusted with flour on the top and smelled as good as it tasted! I couldn't stop saying how delicious everything was!
The house looks great! All the work that's been done is perfect, except the sitting room hardwood floors. They've pushed too many planks into the space and it's caused it to buckle and warp in the middle of the floor. So, you step on that spot, and it moves and makes contact with the floor beneath it. It's like a bubble, only made of laminate. I said hardwood. Hardly! It's meant to look like it, but I don't know what it's actually made of.
The shower is the best bit!
It is fantastically modern and looks lovely.
I am genuinely happy. I don't actually know what to do with happy. I guess just enjoy it!
Lots of change on the Royal Mile. I want to live here.
Have I mentioned that?
I better go, I'm sat inside blogging when I should be out and about! I'm actually going to see some shows.
Tom is at our theatre with his Dad, so I am enjoying some rare time to myself. I'm going to go take pictures and hit the shops then take in a few shows before I come home and cook a gourmet Italian feast!
I wouldn't want to do anything other than this!
I want to be Rachel Brice.
I think this is so ethereal and exotic.
That style of dance is incredibly taxing. The amount of control you must have over your movements requires such strength. It doesn't really look like she's doing much, but I know from past experience whilst studying dance, that this requires a finely honed skill set, and the ability to work through pain. As does any form of dance, except maybe line dancing or the macarena! hahaha
The hotel/B&B was horrorshow.
The whole situation was a big pile of bullshit as well.
So, it made it really easy to not be interested anymore.
I'm not upset or sad. It wasn't the sort of "opportunity"
we are looking for. Since it's more of a liability and got slim chance of being turned into very much, and the plan is to sell it on quickly. I'm not going to move, set up house, and get a business going that I would really like to have, only to fuck it all off in less than a year.
We had too much else going on anyway. I am much keener on getting to France and having the boys come over from the US.
Today was one of the shitiest days we've had in a long time. Everything that could have gone wrong, did.
But, it's alright. We're home now, in our respective pieces. We came so near strangling each other at about 20-25 different terribly stressful points in the shambolic day.
At least we both agreed that we didn't want to do it.
I am going to start packing tomorrow. We want out.
So, let the box hunt begin. A trip to Wilkies to get some packing tape and bubble wrap, and I'll pop a few sharpies in my pockets and pack all day tomorrow!
I can't wait to get the stuff in storage and bugger off to the South of France. Go bake in the sun a bit and swim in the pool. The house we're going to rent there is only $450. USD, so that's even less in GBP. It has three bedrooms, a gorgeous kitchen with an old wooden butcher block and copper pots hanging from the ceiling. It looks just like you'd expect a house to look in Provence. With a pool, a trampoline, and a outdoor fireplace by the pool. We will be able to save money while we're there. And this had to occur, whether we took that offer or not. So, we're just back on course, with less hassle.
I just swallowed Prince Valium, two of them, actually, and they've finally started to kick in. I was so stressed, I had begun this sort of growl screaming every time something else went wrong. It was just time to chill.
I have leaden limb, and lids of lead. I think I shall go to bed.
We got a really weird phone call yesterday morning.
A guy we don't really know very well has asked us to move into his recently purchased hotel/pub and run it.
It looks pretty good on the auction house website.
Not perfect, but workable.
We're going down to have a look at it tomorrow.
There are some aspects of the situation that would be great, others not so great.
For a start, I'll have to immediately hire staff.
Finding good help in these two areas is next to impossible in the States. I don't know what it will be like here, but I don't imagine the process will be anything less than a pain in the arse.
Because it will be our home as well as our business, I am going to have to get past my little hangups about having people in our living area. We'll have to have a nanny, a bartender, and wait staff.
We still have Edinburgh, no matter what.
And, this year, we have to be in France for three months, no matter what.
So, that's four and a half months we'll have to leave the business to those that we hire.
I don't see how that will be possible. But, we'll have to make it work somehow.
I guess it will mean having someone we trust to stay there and oversee the operations and income.
I am going to have to dig deep to access the files in my brain that store hotel/restaurant/pub management.
I'll have to study the rules, regs, and health and safety requirements for the UK. I don't imagine they'll be all that different at the core, but there will definitely be additional things over here that we don't do at home.
I just hope the bar and the kitchen have three basins in the sink. And I hope the deep fryer and grills in the kitchen are at the very least, clean.
The furniture in the rooms is horrible.
And they have no decor at all.
Nothing on the windows but beige vertical blinds.
No decent pillows or duvets on the beds.
It isn't that the furniture is old or messed up, it's just mismatched. And I didn't notice any drawers or places to hang anything. I'll want that sorting out.
A room needs a table, a lamp, a nice mattress, good pillows, and high thread count linens.
I also think there should be blackout curtains on the windows. There were no pictures on the walls.
It was just boring and drab.
I'll fix it up. It is a good canvas, ready to be painted!
I won't have to do anything beyond the decorative.
All of the renovations were done a few years ago, and they're in good shape still.
I'm encouraged that there is no carpet in the pub area.
I can't even begin to convey how badly some old pubs smell in Britain. Stale beer, piss, and bleach.
And, probably a few other smells I don't sniff long enough to define.
It's funny how we're going to end up back in pubs, selling what we don't consume. I owned a bar and grill in the States for a few years before we toured the US for three years. I made so much money doing that.
I was even buying food at retail prices and still cleaning UP! I had a captive demographic and the food was great. It was just like really good home cooking, somewhere other than home. I was at a nightclub out in the middle of nowhere and there weren't any other restaurants for miles. So, I was so busy, from the moment I walked in the door, and I was always still there hours after the club closed.
It was a bit of a nightmare, though.
When I washed dishes, the drain in the floor would regurgitate the water and so I had to put a shop vac on a plywood platform to make sure it didn't get wet, and I rigged the nozzle into the drain, so I just flipped a switch and sucked up the water as it came up.
I learned exactly how much water I could use without it coming back on me. Totally ridiculous way to have to work. Good money, though.
On a slow night, I would clear about $250-300.
So, I like my odds on getting repeat customers with my food. I won't always be there to play chef, but there isn't anything I do that's so complicated it can't be learned.
How did this happen?
I am nervous and afraid.
This will be the biggest thing we've undertaken together.
We don't really get on well enough to be working together. He's already saying he's not so keen, so he'll probably find a way to refuse to do it.
I don't want to let the opportunity slip, but, I am fairly certain he'll be negative about it. I don't need the negative things outlined for me. I find them well enough on my own. Everything has potential risks.
Everything has drawbacks, and if you take a mind to, you can talk yourself out of anything before you've even begun.
I would really like to give it a go.
It's what we have discussed doing, but hadn't found the right building in the town where we were looking into doing this. This building is good. It's Grade II listed, and has some important badges of recognition from the government, which always helps the business immensely.
There is a huge space in the rear of the building that could be split into a beer garden and place for the kids to play. We could put a tall fence through the centre and both sides would be quite sizable.
Well, I guess we'll see how it all goes tomorrow.
I don't know how on earth I'm going to get to sleep.
It feels like the night before the first day of school.
I don't know what I'm gong to wear for this, either!
Wish me luck!
I know that things get nasty on this site, but I have a different experience here.
I enjoy coming here, I enjoy the exchanges with my fellow writers, look forward to reading new posts and actually miss folks when they aren't about for whatever reason.
Everybody that had been missing turned up over the last few days, (no word from HIG, but she's been to see Moz, so I hope we hear how that went SOON, ahem, HEEEEY, how was the show?!??!)
Anyway, I just wanted to take this space to say how much I appreciate all of you!
I think you're lovely.
Now, I'm blushing.
I just read that Moz said the perfect world for animals is one without humans...
I wonder if he thinks we should all kill ourselves for the benefit of animals.
I'm not sure I'd be consuming any Morrissey sanctioned refreshments at his shows.
He must look upon every disgusting human he lays eyes on with such disdain and contempt.
I'm not going to ponder it beyond this, I know how he uses the extreme to make a point.
It's a technique.
I used to say that kind of shit when I was 15.
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