For Mum

Today marks four years since my Mum died. Every year I think it will get easier, every year I'm surprised at just how raw it still feels. I still can't find the right words so I've used someone else's:

For all the times you gently picked me up,

When I fell down,

For all the times you tied my shoes

And tucked me into bed,

Or needed something

But put me first instead.

For everything we shared,

The dreams, the laughter,

And the tears,

I love you with a special love

That deepens every year.

This post is also for RSM who's missing his Mum too.

I went to Chicago and all I got was...

...an engagement ring! Yes, you read that right, an engagement ring.

0.6 carats of internally flawless princess cut diamond on a Tiffany mount to be precise. Not that that matters; he could have given me the ring pull from a Coke can and I'd still have said yes.

There I was, minding my own business, drinking Lake Shore Martinis with the biggest strawberry garnishes you've ever seen, on the 96th floor of the Hancock Tower, faffing about with my camera trying to get a picture of the various views (incidentally, iPhone cameras are shite!) and the next thing I know, there's a ring on the table. If you'd been paying attention you might have noticed my eyes leaking a bit.

So, there you have it. Who'd have thunk it! I am, of course, ridiculously happy. So much so, it'd make you sick. Be thankful I'm on another continent, that's how nauseating it is. I'll try to have calmed down a bit before I get home.

P.S. yes, I do know my hands looks like those of a tranny.

R.I.P. @CatatonicCat. Long Live Ample Nerd!

Today I deleted my Twitter account. @CatatonicCat has left the building, figuratively speaking at least.

There was no door slamming nor flouncing: I've grown up a bit you know. Although, as I type tonight, I feel like I'm back at school.

With the clarity hindsight provides, I'm pretty sure my school days were no more traumatic than that of any middle class white girl. I went to a state school until I passed my 11 plus, at which point I was privately schooled until the age of 18. That in itself makes it pretty atypical for a significant percentage of the population. But compared to my peers, it really was a pretty unremarkable time.

Unremarkably, I was an awkward child. My general appearance provided no lack of opportunity for others to laugh and point: lots of thick unruly hair, NHS glasses, a questionable complexion and height unusual for my age. So what? My lack of local accent and "poshness" (I didn't drop my aitches and I said "maths", not "maffs") made me a target for bullies. No big deal, right? My mother explained away the cruel taunts and my regular "duffings up" by telling me that I was bright and sometimes that made people jealous. It wasn't me with a problem, it was them. We weren't a religious family but I regularly heard "turn the other cheek".

Bullying had, I thought, very little long term effect on me. Most children are on the receiving end of some form of it, it's almost a rite of passage and it's most definitely character building. Certainly, my first bogwashing was an unforgettable experience!

Today though, I find myself with the same squirmy feeling inside that I experienced the first time my school bag was held to ransom until I was prepared to part with all my jubilee marbles or skipping rope or to do someone's homework for them or whatever trivial thing, which seemed so monumental all those years ago, was demanded. Lest you mistake me, I've not been mugged nor forced to part with anything I hold dear. Far from it.

Nor am I saying I've been bullied. Rather, what's left me feeling like I've eaten something which has disagreed with me, is the knowledge that, despite my advancing years, I'm still deeply affected by the actions of others when they're not very nice and directed at me. Or, in fact, directed at people I care about. At the grand old age of 33, I have no inclination to feel like I'm still in a playground environment and that, sadly, is what Twitter has become for me.

I am by no means under the misapprehension that I am faultless or free from blame in the circumstances leading me to delete my account but, quite frankly, I can do without all that "he said, she said" nonsense. It's a social networking medium and, largely, an enjoyable experience but sometimes, when things are causing you grief, you need to jettison them. So that's what I've done. And, it's rather liberating (instead of sitting on the sofa tweeting about the fact there's next to nothing watchable on TV, this evening I have re potted 3 ailing begonias - something I've been meaning to do for several weeks. If my dear old Mum could see me now, she'd be laughing at the fact that I've finally discovered the therapeutic nature of plants).

That's not to say the people I've met (or "met") haven't brought me a great deal of fun and laughter. Rick and Katie, Shelly, Debbie and Rich, amongst many, many others too many to list, are lovely people and I'd like to thank them for their virtual hugs when I've had a crappy day and their collective wit for making me appreciate just how truly side splittingly funny some people are. Some people, and I include the Britney bots in their number, are just a giant pain in the arse.

Kids always have been little fuckers: some things never change.

P.S For those of you who love Spotify, this one's for you Carly Simon – You're So Vain - LP Version

Publish and be damned

Ordinarily, I'm not one for this sort of thing but at the moment (and I'm sure it's probably only of the moment) it seems to be the best course of action. It might all backfire on me, it might be the subject of ridicule, but I have some stuff to say and, as this is my blog, it seems as good a place as any.

Some of you may be wondering about events of late. Some of you may choose to believe what you want. Some of you probably won't care. And some of you will just be confused.

That said...

I was dumped. Via a Facebook email. I chose not to acknowledge the email because, well, I didn't have anything much to say in response. Anyway...

Some time passed and, whilst there was no contact between me and the now ex there wasn't, to my knowledge, any open hostility. I've never been one for keeping in touch with exes: they're exes for a reason and there's rarely a reason to flog an already dead horse.

More time passed and I happened to see some comments made by the ex on a friend of the ex's Facebook wall (keeping up so far?). They weren't complimentary and appeared to be aimed at me. If I'm honest, they upset me. As far as I was concerned I'd not done anything to warrant them (admittedly, I am a little porkier than I used to be but this really should be of no concern to anyone other than myself. And, as for my hair, it's always been like this; it's not going to change). I mentioned these comments to some friends. And this appears to be where things went the way of the pear.

Friends took umbrage on my behalf at the things which had been said. Some friends made their annoyance public, some chose not to. Some chose to use rude words, some frowned. And some did all of these things.

Some of these friends then decided to act in a way I didn't appreciate but nevertheless held my tongue over (more or less). This, above all, confused me for reasons which I won't go in to here. It did, however, cause other friends to take a bit more umbrage.

The end result of all this seems to be a lot of bad feeling. Now, forgive me for saying this, but, I really couldn't give a damn (now) about the fact that I was dumped. I'm more than capable of dealing with this sort of thing. Truth be told, I deal with more significant and troubling situations on a regular basis professionally so it's really pretty inconsequential in the scheme of things. Before I'm misquoted or misinterpreted, I'm not saying the ex is inconsequential, I'm simply saying the fact that he is an ex is.

What troubles me more is the behavior of others. Please stop it, all of you. It's really none of your business and it's making me unhappy. If you care about the fact that I'm unhappy you'll do as I ask.

What's yours is mine and what's mine's my own.

Those being the words a friend of mine chortled at his long term partner a few days ago when the subject of "what if it all goes pear shaped" was being debated in the pub. Don't worry, they weren't actually having a public debate about the prospect of splitting up (or were they? Hmmm). More, it was a general discussion on how bloody hard it is to extricate yourselves from a coupling of any significant length.

The conclusion was reached that it's pretty easy ("easy" being a relative concept in this instance) to divvy up who gets what out of all the shit you purchased together during your ill fated relationship. If you went halves on big things (like, oh, I don't know, houses) you can offer to pay the other person their share. If it's that useless kitchen gadget you got nagged in to going halves on because you really needed to start your day with a nutritious pear, ginger and wheat grass juice drink, then you'd probably be happy to let that go (seeing as how it only ever got used a handful of times and was an utter bitch to wash up). If it got really complicated, you could pay people to work all this out for you so that you never actually had to speak to the once love of your life.

But that then leaves the less tangible stuff, namely, friends. Chances are, through the passage of time, you started to become friends with your partner's friends. You may even have actually liked some of them and not thought they were arrogant twats who talked about work all the time or who were disguising the fact that they were utterly socially inept by always being the first person to get drunk at any gathering.

When the parting of the ways leaks out of the four sullen walls of your erstwhile love nest and becomes very much the hot topic amongst anyone with a passing interest in your life - not to mention some people who you'd not be able to pick out of a line up - you start to find out what the phrase "divided loyalties" really means. All of a sudden, Annie (best gal pal of your ex) to whom you confessed everything (even that time you "accidentally" managed to shag the cousin just before the ex asked you out) won't speak to you. In fact, she won't even look you in the eye. You're lucky if her gaze meets your knees. Invitations to social events suddenly dry up making you wonder if perhaps everyone has violently taken against you. They might have done mind you, it really does depend on the intricacies of your split. Did you cheat on him? In which case, you deserve it. Did he cheat on you? It's likely they still think he's an alright bloke and it's probably your fault somewhere along the line. After all, why would he look elsewhere...

So, this debate carried on for some time. The general upshot of it all is that people really are utter bastards and there are very few people in this world who you can truly call friends.

Never having been in a relationship where the end signaled the beginning of arguments over who gets the cat (you may call this sheer luck, I call it perspicacious foresight) I felt I had to chip in with something more relevant to my own experiences. I'm sure it's not just me who's felt like regressing to the age of seven and demanding of a friend that they never speak to (insert name of dysfunctional twat here) because to do so would signify a gross act of disloyalty even if the reason for the end of your malformed embryo of a relationship was something so trivial you can't remember it a week or so later. I have however refrained from doing this (since I was at least fourteen anyway), feeling that outbursts of this nature are less than dignified. And so it shall remain I hope. I've never been one for scenes. I have, however, got a bloody long memory.

Obviously, the real conclusion we all reached was that you can solve all the failings of mankind if only you had enough alcohol. That and the fact that those of the group who were in happy, long standing and successful relationships were the most cynical of the bunch. Go figure!

A good deed

I was asked to pass this comment on and so I shall. More relevant to any readers stateside...

Can you pass this along via your blog, and to all your contacts?

Lupus Foundation of America Needs Your Help -- Urge Your Senators to Cosponsor S. 1630, the Affordable Access to Prescription Medications Act

Go to http://capwiz.com/lfa/home/

Click on the link "Urge Your Senators to Cosponsor S. 1630, the Affordable Access to Prescription Medications Act," enter your zip code in the box called “Call Now” and click on the “go” button. You’ll then be presented with the contact information for your senators, as well as get talking points for what to say when you call.

Please ask your family, friends and coworkers to call on your behalf as well.

Stuff. And things.

It may have escaped your notice, but I've not blogged for a while. I've been rather busy over the last month, the highlights of which have been:

• Stress: Much HR related work shenanigans which have vexed me greatly but about which I can't divulge any details. Let's face it, if your manager was shouting all over the web about stuff that had been happening which directly concerned you, you'd not be very happy. So you'll just have to use your imaginations. Suffice it to say, it's not been a very happy time for some people (or me!).

• A Confirmation: For some time I've scoffed at having to send people at work on a course which tells them which means of communication is appropriate for a certain situation (don't tell someone they're fired via an email, for example). Turns out some people would actually benefit from going on this course. I knew common sense and courtesy weren't that common: consider this belief reinforced.

• An Epiphany: I realised that I could be happy if I stopped being scared about things. As a result I have been having, quite literally, all of the fun this last month. It's been an wonderful month of lovely times and lots of smiles with the promise of more to come in the future. Thank you, you know who you are.

• Things Got Hotter: this may or may not have something to do with the point before this one. It does definitely have something to do with the chili harvest and a new addition to the conservatory.

• Plans Changed: having bought tickets for Bestival, I now find myself unable to go (off to Germany for work instead) but, I'm going to see Idlewild, amongst others, at Arundel Castle in a few weeks with some Twitter folk who I actually know in real life. Picnic rugs at the ready!

• A Holiday Was Booked: I'm off to the Windy City at the end of October for much ooohing at architecture and pointing at things. Oh, and complicated breakfast egg orders.

All a bit enigmatic in places but discretion is the better part of valour and all that. All you need to know is that stuff and things have been happening and, now the work stuff has calmed down, life is altogether rosy. Woo. And indeed, Yay!