Day of the Lust List...

The GBF wanted me to call this something like 'Friday Fitties' but then again he's completely insane.  Besides, he denigrated my Lust List yesterday which basically makes him slightly lower down my list of All-Time Awesome People than he was before.  (I jest - I love him more than Green and Blacks and he knows it.  That's half the problem...)

But because he suggested it (and to prove to the world at large that my taste in men isn't all bad...honest), we have officially designated Fridays as the Day of the Lust List.  Which sounds like a terrible 50's B-movie that I would actually go and see in a heartbeat because, y'know, terrible 50's B-movies are all kinds of awesome, but is actually nothing more than an excuse for me to post pictures of not-at-all-unattractive-yet-very-talented gentlemen.  *cough*  To be honest it's more like an excuse for me to post the pictures and for the GBF (who now lives in Scouseland and so cannot abuse me in person) to cackle hysterically at them and send me cruel and taunting emails.  These are the sacrifices I willingly make...So here we go with the first Friday Lust List entry...

Ladies and not-ladies and everything in between, I give you....Shemar Moore.

I totally watch Criminal Minds for the gripping story lines and the fact that - hello! - it's about the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit at Quantico, which was sort of my dream job destination as a teenager.  The fact that Shemar Moore is in it is merely a happy coincidence, but one which occasionally means I miss a vital plot point and have to rewind the DVD again.

And I know I won't get any snarky emails from the GBF for this one because he thinks - for once - that I done good on this one.  Result...

Until next Friday, then, the Lust List is officially closed...

Things That Make You Go "Ooh"...

So now the festive season has been and gone and another new year is upon us. I'm still trying to fathom where the last twelve months went, to be honest, and now I find another twelve looming large before me...I always used to laugh when The Parents said that time went quicker the older you got but, as it turns out, they were right. Who knew? But now Ye Olde Festive Merriment is no more and now we're all left surveying the leftover turkey, stale Christmas cake (seriously, why do we all bother making/buying one? No one ever eats it) and dying Christmas tree and wondering how it all went by so fast. I hope you and yours had a suitably jolly festive season; personally I err on the Grinchy side of all things Christmassy, but even I managed to raise a smile or two in the spirit of the season this year, which is surprisingly shocking. But then again I managed to get myself into the festive spirit a tad early this year by doing A Good Deed (http://www.amnesty.org.uk/content.asp?CategoryID=10673&gclid=CO-grpuHuq0CFVQLfAoduBR4AA) and this made me realise that, even though I am technically Katy Grinch, I have plenty to be thankful for at this time of year...

First there was Yule, which of course necessitated the yearly 'tah-dah!' present from the GBF. This year it was an education for a young girl in Africa, giving her a head start in life and hopefully going someway to help her break out of poverty by getting an education. From such tiny acorns great forests grow and, as always, I thank Lee from the bottom of my jaded heart for not only knowing me inside out but for also being there whenever the dung hits the whirly thing. Even though you have left me for Scouseland, I am terminally grateful for having you in my life. You do, in fact, Rule. (Now please come back from Scouseland because I miss our Duvet Day DVD Marathons!! :P)

Secondly, there was Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day. This necessitated being en famille, and I am deeply and profoundly grateful for the whole bloody lot of them. I know full well that I can be the world's biggest pain sometimes, but they are always on my side, always supportive and always there for me no matter what; they say you can't choose your family and frankly I don't want to. There was a slight emotional hiccup, as there always is, but the family I did have around me are too wonderful for words and I love them all deeply. Words can never be enough. It was also wonderful having new family around, as we went to my brothers for Christmas Day; it was great to spend the day with him and his girlfriend, as well as her family, and hopefully this will be the first of many.

Thirdly, there were my friends. I am blessed to have some incredible people in my life who actively choose to associate with me - I keep waiting for them to see the error of their ways but so far common sense seems to have eluded them. I won't force the issue as I adore them all too much to lose them and remain humbled, honoured and incredibly lucky to be the recipient of their friendship. If I only make one resolution this new year (which I tend not to do as I fail miserably at keeping them), it will be to do my utmost to be there for my friends whenever they need me. I'm rubbish at keeping in touch and I can go for days without touching technology, but my friends are often the reason I keep going when the world looks too bleak and, without sounding too much like a Hallmark card (I hope), each and every one of them has touched me and changed me in a number of ways. I have laughed with them, cried with them, screamed at half-naked cellists with them and not a day goes by when I don't think of them.

So yes, there were many reasons to be thankful during the Winter Festivities. And perhaps that pre-Christmas letter-writing spree to try and bring a little hope and solidarity to the lives of others not as fortunate as I am was the catalyst I needed to remind myself that, no matter how dark I think the road ahead may be, I have an incredible family and wonderful friends to support me, a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in, and food and medical treatment to keep me alive. There are dark days out there, and there are emotional wounds that may never heal, but maybe I'm learning to become better at seeing the good instead of the bad; at finding the light instead of the dark. The people I wrote to offering my solidarity have witnessed the most unspeakable acts of man's inhumanity and cruelty to man and they have done so with a strength and a courage I can only imagine. Their struggles serve to remind me how fortunate I am, and so I make them all - the AWN, Fatima Hussein Badi, Natalia Estemirova, WOZA, Inés Fernández Ortega and Valentina Rosendo Cantú - my last reason to be cheerful. Their stories gave me perspective when I would usually be immersed in a sea of selfishness and Grinchyness, and for that I will be forever grateful...

On Board The Good Ship Friend...

...or in other words, I should have just called this 'on friendship' but I was being a smart arse.

I have the most amazingly wonderful friends in the entire history of the world. Seriously. My friends are better than your friends, and I know this because they are able to put up with me without wanting to strangle me with a sock. Or, if they ever HAVE wanted to strangle me with a sock, they've been awesome enough to keep it to themselves and never act on such an impulse. What can I say? My friends just rock.

Some of my friends I've known since forever, and it embarrasses me only slightly that they can still recall what I looked like at that school disco; bless them for their sweetness in never mentioning it. Others have fallen by the wayside but a very rare few are still hanging around. Quite WHY they're still hanging around I haven't entirely figured out, but it shows that I must be doing something right. I love you muchly.

Others I have only known for a couple of years or so, and this includes the mighty tribe of Forumbat, who are actually THE most awesome people you could ever hope to meet. Whenever I find myself in a down moment (which, lets be honest, isn't exactly a rare occurrence for a mardy cow like me), I just think of all the epic times I've had as a Forumbat and before you can say Robert is your mother's brother I'm laughing like a fool. Although apparently not everyone gets the joke and tends to look at you a bit oddly if the answer to their question, "er, what are you laughing at?" is the ecstatic response "squirrels with beards!!" What can I say, it's their loss...Anyway, I love you very muchly also and insist that you all remain as bonkers and brilliant as you are now.

However. Oh, but however. If there is one thing guaranteed to make me turn into a snarling, spitting, biting, scratching she-wolf (yes, one that's even worse than I normally am) it's anyone foolish enough to attempt to rain on my friends parades. I had fisticuffs in secondary school with a few people in defence of my friends and believe me, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. My friends are amazing people, for reasons that I couldn't even begin to list, but the main one is they put up with me and my madness and for that they deserve to be defended to the death. (Or possibly sectioned. Or a medal. Or all three). I can't stand it when my friends are unhappy, and although it's taken me a while to learn that sometimes I can't actually fix it and the best thing I can do is just be there for them, there's still an instinct inside me that makes me want to go charging into battle on their behalf. I fail to understand why anyone would want to do something to make any of my friends unhappy when they're such amazing people; it's complete anathema to me. I'm not saying they're perfect (sorry guys) because they're only human, after all, but actually they are pretty darn special and I pity anyone who can't see that.

So this is a friendly warning, a heads-up, a shot across the bows, if you will. If you are one of the foolish, foolish people who have ever dared to upset one of my friends, any of them, you better pray like hell to whatever-it-is you believe in that our paths never cross. Because let me tell you something, only one of us will walk away from the encounter unscathed and it won't be you. I can do things with plastic teaspoons that are hitherto unknown to man, so you better wise up and shut up if you want to keep walking the way you do. I don't intend to kill you, I'm not that soft, but you may well be left wishing I had. Don't say I didn't warn you.

And if you are one of my friends, especially the one who inspired this rant because of some morons pathetic opinion and complete lies, listen up because this bit is for all of you. I love you, I will always be there for you and even if I can't fix it I'll do my darndest to try. If all I can do is let you cry till snot dribbles all over my favourite jumper, it's a sacrifice I will gladly make. I won't even charge you for the dry cleaning. I can't fight your battles for you and I can't always provide the right answers, but even if all I can do is be at the end of a computer screen or a phone, I am here for you. We may argue, we may disagree over stupid things and I know for sure I'm not perfect, but I love you all and will cheris every single memory we've shared - even the not so great ones, where we fought over a boy in college or something equally stupid - until the day I die.

Thank you for being my friends and thank you for giving me so much love, laughter, inspiration, frustration, jealousy, pride and every other emotion possible. You are, quite simply, the best.

Love Kate xxx

The Most Fun You Can Have...

This post was inspired by my dearly beloved and completely twisted GBF, who today made the following pronouncement:

"Ah, feeding the ducks. The most fun you can have with your clothes off."

Once I'd stopped falling about laughing at the statement (come to Southend; we feed ducks in the nude! We know how to have fun!) it got me thinking. *dons Carrie Bradshaw voice* What IS the most fun you can have with your...ok, ok, I'm kidding! But it DID start a discussion about our favourite things to do that are free...

The Top Five...

1) Feeding the ducks. With or without clothes, depending on your preference, although I highly recommend going equipped in garments of some sort. Less chilly. Also means you'll be less likely to be arrested. All you need is a park with a duck pond and some stale-ish bread, which can usually be obtained from either your own stores or by begging some from friends and relations. And yes, you may be the only adult there without a small child to assist you (for authenticity/camouflage purposes I suppose you could always borrow a small child from somewhere, but they have a tendency to ruin the atmosphere and to attempt to throw themselves headlong into the water). Et voila - a perfectly enjoyable pastime. Bread, ducks...is there anything more peaceful? Just avoid the geese - they can be nasty.

2) Libraries. Ahhhh, libraries. I have already written of my reverence for these wonderful seats of learning and shelter from the cold for the local aged, infirm and generally mental population (no one said this was PC, ok?) but there really is nothing better than pitching up to a library, settling yourself down in a corner somewhere and voraciously devouring books. Which you are then allowed to take home. For FREE!! I demand to know who first came up with this revolutionary and marvellous idea so that I can shake their hand...

3) Museums and art galleries. Admittedly there may be a small cost for this, such as a train fare to London and a bun in the cafe (and, if you're me, a shedload of money in the shop afterwards), or perhaps a small donation, but we live a country where some of the greatest paintings and bits of Ye Olde Historical Tat have been put together under one roof (or several roofs, if you're being picky about it) for our enjoyment, and nary a compulsory entrance fee among them. I might even go as far as to say the ones you DO have to pay for are rubbish...unless it's the Lawnmower Museum. Because that is just genius, obv.

4) People watching. Piece of cake, this: find somewhere that has people in it, or that people pass through at regular intervals. Sit down somewhere nearby. Observe your fellow man. Laugh internally at the hilarity/pointlessness/stupidity of your fellow man. Feel bad for being so judgemental...

5)We struggled with number 5, I'll admit. I wanted 'curling up at home with a good dvd and some hot chocolate' but Lee pointed out this necessitates spending money on a home, a dvd, a dvd player, a tv AND hot chocolate. He wanted listening to music, but I got just as pedantic and pointed out you need to spend money on music and something to play it on in the first place. We then thought sleeping, but again - money for beds. And a house. In the end we came up with sitting outside gazing up at the moon and stars, and watching the sun rise and set.

We are but simple creatures, me and the GBF...even if we DO feed he ducks while naked...

The Wanderer Returns...

So I am back from the frozen and miserable wastes of Wolverhampton. And no, for once this is not me being melodramatic; it was bloody cold, wet and inexorably miserable up there. I can’t even imagine it being nice in the sunshine. And there’s not much to do, either…but I shall come on to that.

So why, I hear you ask, was a pathetic Southern softy like me up in the Midlands area when I was clearly so unimpressed with the place. Well, dearest blog-verse, t’was not my design, but I was there to see a band. And not just any band but the mighty and utterly fantabulous Apocalyptica. And, what is more, I went to said gig in said Midlands’s town with my Baby. It was, in fact, epic for many reasons…

Obviously, the most fabulous reason was seeing Gemma. Gem-Gem, you are such a warm and wonderful person that I can’t quite believe I’ve only known you a year. I always have so much fun when we’re together and Thursday was no exception. It’s also nice to know that I’m not the only dedicated/certifiable Apocalyptica fangirl in the gang; I finally rocked up to the party at about 3.30pm on the day after travelling up that morning, but Gem had been firmly in place at the front of the queue since 10am. Now that is dedication…I also got to meet the equally awesome Nick, Sophie and Tori, who had been queuing with the Baby since about 12, and I finally got to meet Imogen and Cez. Guys, you are all fantabulous people and you made queuing up in the cold absolutely hilarious. Whenever I see coach loads of slightly scared-looking school children, I shall think of you all and cackle hysterically. I haven’t had so much fun in ages and you were all awesome.

Once they opened the doors and we got inside, we managed to be right at the very front of the stage. We were on the right hand side, because the pesky VIP’s had managed to bag the centre spot, but as it turned out it was a pretty good spot. The first support band were called Awake By Design; never heard of them but damn, they were amazing!! Bassist was cute too…*cough* Anyway, they were really, really god; so much so that I bought their debut album after the show – best fiver I’ve spent in a long while, I reckon…

The next band on were Pain of Salvation, who I’ve heard a lot about (and heard Daniel Gildenlow sing on an Ayreon album) but I didn’t know their stuff especially. I am a convert. Daniel’s voice is even more amazing live, and he’s so charismatic on stage…they were brilliant. I couldn’t tell you what they played, but I’d see them again for sure.

And then, of course, there was Apocalyptica. I honestly think they are one of my favourite ever bands to see live, and this time I was right in the front. I got to exchange sticky-out-tongues with Perttu (sigh…) and was close enough to shriek at Mikko like a banshee when he came to join the other guys at the front. It. Was. Epic. And Gem had got some bags of wine gums for them (cos they like wine gums, apparently) and had stuck stickers on them so that there was one for each of the four guys from Gem, Cez, Imy and me. Awesome idea, sweetie, and Perttu certainly looked like he appreciated them!! All in all, it was a fabulous, fabulous evening and will go down as one of my favourite ever gig experiences. Thanks to Gemma, Imy, Cez, Nick, Sophie and Tori for making it all so much fun, and to Awake By Design, Pain of Salvation and Apocalyptica for making me completely deaf and spend most of Friday with my sexy husky voice after I screamed so much. It was appreciated.

Friday was spent wandering the streets of Wolverhampton like a vagabond, trying to find something to do before my train left at 7.45pm. There is a lovely art gallery that I wandered around very happily for two hours, and then I took the five giraffes Thelma, Louise, Brad, Butch and Sundance (sorry, Mooms, they’ll always be Butch and Sundance to me) down to the canals so we could take piccies of locks and ducks and things, but then it started to rain and I had to find something to do. Sadly, there isn’t anything to do, unless you like shopping centres. I went and looked round the church, which was very pretty, but it was a long, cold, wet afternoon. Still, I can now say I’ve been to Wolverhampton. Er, yeah…

On a brighter note, I am off to lovely Brighton tomorrow to see Hellyeah, Avenged Sevenfold and Stone Sour. Corey Taylor will certainly put a smile back on my face…marvellous…

Yes, It's Fucking Political!!!

Sometimes the world is a wonderful place, full of magick and abundance, when butterflies dance on shafts of light and there is music and mystery in the babbling brooks and on the gentle breezes. And sometimes the world is like the playground bully who steals your lunch money, punches you in the guts and then, for good measure, kicks sand in your face before running off laughing with your best friend.

When this happens, there are two strategies you can adopt. The first is to scream obscenities in the general direction of the All-Powerful Force of the Universe, shaking your fist and screaming how unfair the whole thing is before collapsing in a sobbing, hysterical heap on the floor. The second, always advocated by the hippy-dippy or ultra-religious lot, is to Count Your Blessings; the idea being that even in the depths of your ultimate despair you'll still be able to summon up the oomph to thank whichever Power you believe in that you aren't a starving African child or a victim of the Haitian earthquake. Clearly those people have never been in the depths of a depression so powerful that actually being a starving African child is preferable to your own miserable existence. Unless it's a starving African child adopted by Angelina Jolie or Madonna; then I think I'll stick with the pit of depression.

I, however, favour a third way. Although I try and count 3 good things that have happened to me each day and chronicle them in my notebook (I know; I'm such a hippy), there are always other things that I know I can count on when the going gets really, really tough...

1) My family, specifically my mum. Even when I have been the most unbearably awful child imaginable, shrieking in hysterical hypochondria or just generally being a complete cow, she is always, always there for me. I wish that everyone could be so lucky to have such a mother; however, no matter how much I love you, you cannot have her - she is mine and I won't do sharesies!!

2) My friends. They are all so different and yet all so dear to me. 'Nuff said, really.

3) Books. Opening a book is like opening a door into another world. There is always something new and wondrous to discover and sometimes you need to be taken out of the craptacular real world for a bit and play somewhere else.

4) Music. Ahh, music. Now this is always guaranteed to make my day because there is quite literally a song for every occasion; something to make the mood and the moment feel more intense. Music soothes the savage beast, it is the food of love and it's the best thing to get you through the good, the bad, the indifferent and just about anything you can think of. A few examples of my own personal soundtrack to life...

* Songs for expressing your righteous anger at the scumbags that somehow pass as politicians these days, with their smug smiles and their silly Eton haircuts: Yes, It's Fucking Political by Skunk Anansie; Take The Power Back by Rage Against The Machine; Fuck You by Lily Allen.
* Songs for being a general pain in "The Man's" butt: anything by Rage Against The Machine, really, but Killing In The Name Of goes down well...or not!
* Songs that remind me of my friends: Trash by Suede; Rasputin by Turisas; Escapist by Nightwish and (for Lee) Don't Stop Movin' by S Club 7. Remember lunchtimes in the pub, Lee-Lee? Ahh, happy days...
* Songs for getting over a break up: A Child That Walks In The Path Of A Man by Angtoria; Fighter by Christina Aguilera; A Rancid Romance by Diablo Swing Orchestra; Liar by Emilie Autumn; Smoke and Mirrors by Paloma Faith.
* Songs that take me right back to my teenage years: Weak by Skunk Anansie; Trash by Suede; Stupid Girl by Garbage; Yourself by the Manic Street Preachers; Bohemian Like You by the Dandy Warhols; Paint Pastel Princess by Silverchair; Local Boy in the Photograph by the Stereophonics; Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana.
* Songs for a bit of a 'feminist' moment: She's Like Thunder by Doro; Return of the Mother by Nina Hagen; Bitch by Sarah Jezebel Deva; That's What the Wise Lady Said by Angtoria; Why Didn't You Call Me by Macy Gray.
* Songs for my 'girlie fae' moments: What If, Rapunzel and Juliet, all by Emilie Autumn; Queen of the May, Wytches, Pagan Born, Heartbeat of the Earth, Midnight Queen, Beltane and pretty much anything by Inkubus Sukkubus.
* Songs guaranteed to reduce me to tears: Unintended and Sing For Absolution by Muse; Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley; Name by the Goo Goo Dolls; Feint by Epica; Bother by Corey Taylor; Piece of my Heart by Janis Joplin; Peace is Free by Black Stone Cherry; This is Yesterday by the Manic Street Preachers; Breathe by Abney Park; Faraway Vol. 2 by Apocalyptica.
* Songs that are better than Prozac: Drumming Song by Florence and the Machine; National Express by the Divine Comedy; The Ballad of Tom Jones by Spaced with Cerys Matthews; She Bangs by Ricky Martin; Love Machine by Girls Aloud; Airship Pirates by Abney Park; Wild Dances by Ruslana; anything by Lordi and anything by Motley Crue. Oh, and Du Hast and Pussy by Rammstein. Pussy also fits into the "songs that are not appropriate for singing in public as I found out to my eternal shame" category, along with 'The Devil is a Loser' by Lordi. Ahem...

So yeah, there you go. Quite a mixed bag, and that's only the stuff I've listened to recently or the categories that have been most appropriate recently. There are, of course, a million million more songs for both all of these categories and any other category you can think of. I honestly can't imagine my life without any of these four things, to be honest; if 'Heaven' is a place without my mum, my friends, my books and my music, you can keep it. Ooh, now there's a topic for a musical playlist...

Consider Yourself...One Of The Family...

Ok, so bad West End musical impressions aside (oh, Oliver, how I adore thee!!) the title for today's post springs from the fact that I spent yesterday up in The Big Smoke with my beloved second family, the Forumbats. It is absolutely astonishing to think that it was only really just over a year ago that we all met properly, although there had been months/years of peripheral contact and abuse on the Nightwish forum beforehand, and yet I genuinely cannot imagine my life without any of them now. From the first initial "um...wombat?" at Brixton Academy last March to the hysteria that ensued in the Science Museum yesterday, I honestly adore all of them. Yes, Raymond, even you...

We were only six yesterday, as some of the Forumbats appear to have gone missing in action; another one (Alicia) is away in the Frozen Viking Wastelands of the North; and two (Rich and Ryan - flange!) were otherwise occupied, but those of us who did make the perilous trek into the capital reverted to type in our natural habitat of Hyde Park and spent hours talking about anything and everything, observed some very weird goings-on (a woman doing some bizarre form of Tai Chi, a couple who really needed to get a room and several strategically positioned corpses) before the so-called British Summertime became too much for us and we retreated to the warmth of the museums. After dragging the boys round the costume section of the V&A, we went up to the Cast Courts and technically went halfway round Europe. Next time I go away, I shall dispense with my camera and just take a whole truckload of Plaster of Paris with me...Having 'returned' from our travels, we spent many a happy hour shoving small children out of the way impatiently as we took our own child (Baby Forumbat GemGem) round the wonders of the Science Museum. I think I can confidently say that we learnt absolutely nothing from the experience, but we had a damn good laugh the whole time, so I would say it was a successful outcome!

Sadly, we had to lose Holly a bit early (well done on your A-levels again, sweetie; I am soooo proud of you!!) and GemGem and Owen too were gone by six (love you lots, my clever, fabulous daughter, and Owen, you are a complete genius). That left myself, Ray and Hannah (happy birthday for today, Hannah!! Love you!!) to stuff ourselves with chips before heading off to the Crossbones graveyard...

Crossbones is a patch of unconsecrated scrub ground which, back in medieval times, was designated the final resting place for the so-called "Winchester Geese"; the prostitutes licensed by the Bishop of Winchester to ply their trade in the area around the Clink. Over time, it became a place where all those too poor or 'shamed' to be given a decent Christian burial (not just prostitutes) were buried. When the Jubiliee line was being built, it was rediscovered and 148 bodies were removed; since then, it has become a place of pilgrimage and a memorial, not just to those who were and are still buried there, but to the many women within the sex industry today who have been murdered. There are memorials to the five women murdered in Ipswich, to the three women killed in Bradford and other cases that don't make the national news. I heard about it a few months ago and, as I potentially have an ancestor who was a sex worker (she was known as a 'seamstress', a euphemism for prostitute and as she only had one hand I'm a little dubious as to the exact brilliance of her sewing ability), I became intrigued. It was deeply moving and a very sombre end to the day, but I'm very grateful that Ray and Hannah came with me and I hope it wasn't too depressing for you both.

So all told, yesterday was a marvellous day and I love my Forumbat family more than life itself. Holly and Owen, good luck as you head off to uni in the next few weeks; I'm very proud of you both for your epic A-level results and know you'll both be brilliant. GemGem, my Baby and my treasure, I love you to bits and I am so pleased you came on Halloween and are now part of the family. And Ray and Hannah - what can I say to you that I haven't already said? I love you both more than I can say.

Forumbat meets will be harder to organise as even more of our number are off to university and the big wide world, but I can guarantee that whenever, wherever the next meet-up is, there will be much laughter, much love and complete chaos. Sorry, citizens.

RA RA!!

All the world's a stage

…and in his time a man plays many parts, to paraphrase the Bard. I don’t tend to find myself agreeing with old Shakespeare very often (apart from the fact that some of his female characters are absolute dreams to play as an actress), but in this case I think he was pretty much on the money. And the reason I've been thinking about this a lot recently stems from two separate conversations that I had with two different people over the past few weeks, which have led to me thinking about the differences in the image we project to others and the way in which we perceive ourselves. Stand by, folks, cos this one could get a little deep…

I've always had a sneaking suspicion that I’m slightly schizophrenic in my personality. I don’t mean that I suffer from schizophrenia, nor do I intend to make light of the illness; after all, I’ve seen first-hand what it can do to someone and I know it’s never a laughing matter, but the fact is that I seem to have a whole heap of different masks and different behaviours depending on who I’m with. I guess Shrek put it best when he said ogres are like onions cos they have a lot of layers; that's me, alright: layer upon layer of weirdness and back-off vibes coupled with layers of niceness and bubbly glee. A lot of this is social context, obviously, because I would never act the way I do with my friends when serving the vicar a cup of tea at one of my grandmother’s church fundraisers; but a big part of it is to do with self-preservation. I live in a state of constant terror that people won't like me.

There, I said it. To a certain extent, it's true - I've always hated the thought that other people don't like me and are only pretending to be my friends (once you've been stabbed in the back a few times, it's less "et tu, Brute?" and more "don't mess with the bitch, bitch"), but recently, in a series of small epiphanies, I've started to realise that, actually, I don't care. I have an incredibly good group of friends (in varying seperate groups of their own) and for some bizarre and bewildering reason they seem to like having me around. I've never once felt that they stuck by me out of pity or charity like I have in the past, and actually find that I'm more myself than I've ever been around them. And I'm starting to find out exactly who 'myself' is - turns out that underneath all the bullshit and bravado, she's actually an okay kinda gal...

Someone told me a few weeks ago that I seem to be comfortable with who I am and that they don't feel brave enough to be like that; when I said that most of it was pure front because I was always shy in new situations, he seemed genuinely surprised. Someone else told me a few days before that (after a second breakup with my then-boyfriend) that I had an amazing attitude towards it after I basically shrugged and said I wasn't too upset because, frankly, if he didn't think I was worth spending time with then I wasn't going to lose any sleep over it: my answer to both of them was that it's been a long time coming. It has, too; I spent a lot of my time in the past pretending to be something I wasn't in the vain hope of fitting in, and it made me miserable. I've lived with the labels 'freak' and 'weird girl' longer than I care to remember; I've had the whispered conversations about me and the snidey comments, the silent treatment and the blatant hostility. My teens were spent careering from one hideous form of self-loathing to another, always seeking approval, always needing to be loved. I desperately wanted to be liked and yet, at the same time, I shied away from opening up to people because I was too scared of being hurt again; too afraid of what love or friendship or anything else might mean.

And then one day I woke up. Like Sleeping Beauty after her hundred year snooze, I snapped out of the misery and the lethargy and decided that if I didn't fit the box, then screw it. It took me a long time; I mean, I'd already gone down the 'weirdo' route at school because of my interest in paganism (oh, how I laughed when the boys asked if I was going to turn them all into toads. Not. Sorry, lads, guess you didn't need my magic for that one, you were already there); because I liked heavy metal and because I read books about serial killers. I'd also had the strange and slightly unsettling experience of feeling like an outsider in the metal scene because I dyed my hair blonde, wore blue jeans and still listened to things that weren't completely incomprehensible rackets like Cannibal Corpse (and god knows that that's nanoseconds of my life I won't get back again). I was an insecure little freak girl, and it was gutwrenching to be torn between wanting to be liked and being absolutely terrified of other people. I lived in my head as much as possible because it felt like the safest place to be, and no one was ever likely to make me feel uncomfortable there. And then one day, only very recently, I might add, I just got it.

So yes, I am a bit of a weirdo. And yes, I don't just have 'issues', I have a full subscription with free gifts and one of those ringbinder things to keep them in. And I do tend to be loud and chatty or pathalogically shy in new situations as a way of covering up my social ineptness and fear of being hated. No, I don't look like a *typical* metalhead. And you don't need to point out my relationship insecurities, my neediness or any other flaws that I have. I know all about them and you know what? I actually kinda like 'em. Besides, I also happen to have the gift of making people feel better by acting like a lunatic; the gift of being a reasonably decent person who cares about her friends; the gift of being able to weave a tale or two from the ether; the gift of dancing to the heartbeat of the earth and not caring whose watching...I'm more than just my insecurities and flaws.

I know I have a helluva long way to go before I'm completely comfortable in my skin, and there are certain monsters and boogeymen from the past that are going to need a serious ass-kicking before my head feels completely sorted, but I've accepted that I'm probably never going to be what passes for 'normal' in this world. And I'm okay with that, I think. The people who made my life a living hell back in the day are long gone from my world; in their place are groups of people that I haven't known very long but who I seem to have clicked with (Jack, you are my evil twin ;p), people that I would willingly fight and die for if the need arises; people who actually seem to have accepted me as I am, flaws and neuroses and all, and are actually ok with that. I have a long way to go in a lot of respects, but the journey will probably be quite exciting. Especially if I dance in the rain and hug a few trees while I'm at it. Sure, I'll get some odd looks from people, but as I don't appear to be a psychotic mass murderer underneath it all, I don't think it will be a problem.

So stick around, kids, cos this one could be an eye-opener...

Sleeeeeeeeppppp...

I've just come home from my day out at the Sonisphere music festival in Knebworth, so I am tired, achy and pretty deaf in both ears thanks to placing myself far too near the speakers. But happy? Ohhhh, yes...It was an absolutely awesome day out, despite my paranoia about health 'issues' (and kudos to the man in Boots at Liverpool Street who didn't look at me as if I was a total maniac), and I had the most epic time. The bands were, for the most part, fantastic (more anon), but what made it so amazing was the fact that I got to spend the time with my friends Ray and Hannah, who are among the most brilliant people in the world. Not only did we hang out at the festival all day, they also very kindly let me crash at their place last night so that I didn't have to worry about missing the last train back, and it was so much fun. hence why I'm so knackered now: Hannah and I ended up having a proper girlie sleepover (why are they called sleepovers? No one sleeps!) and talked all night. I'm lucky - I came home early this afternoon and can go to sleep on the sofa if I want to. Hannah's still at Sonisphere because she and Ray had tickets to all three days; she is a trooper and a treasure! So: Ray and Hannah, thank you again for making the weekend such brilliant fun, for letting me stay over and for being such fabulous people. Love you lots! xx RA RA!

Onto the bands...well, the ones that I saw, anyway...Sabaton were amazing, as always, and I can't wait to see them on tour later this year. Lacuna Coil seemed to have a few technical difficulties which was a shame; I'm not a huge fan but the odd song of theirs is good, and it would have been better for them if there hadn't been any issues. Ah well. Next up was Soulfly - seeing Max Cavalera 'foook shiiiit oooop!' before playing 'Roots Bloody Roots' was awesome! :D Apocalyptica made me squeal like a teenage fangirl at a pop concert (eat yer heart out, JLS) and bust my eardrums because we were so close to the amps at the front. It's a tough job, but sometimes a girl just has to do it...We headed back to the main stage to briefly catch up with a friend but as Good Charlotte were playing my ears were bleeding (and not in a good way) so we headed back to the second stage for the awesome Skunk Anansie. As a young teenager, I hero-worshipped Skin (while being slightly afraid of her) because she was - and is - such a strong, powerful woman. In the flesh, she does not disappoint...awesome lady, phenomenal singer, blinding show. Well, what we saw of it...

You see, Corey Taylor, the talented (and not unattractive) singer of Slipknot and Stone Sour was performing an acoustic set in the tent, so to make sure we got there in time we left Skunk Anansie three songs in and made for the tented stage. Just as well we did, really, because when he came on stage, the place was absolutely rammed. Before he came on we caught the set by a band called Sick Of It All, who were not my cup of tea at all, but then when they left we managed to stand to one side and listen to Corey sing. It was magic. I shed tears. He had played 'Give My Love To Rose' by Johnny Cash, which is one of my favourite Cash songs ever; then, when he played 'Bother' and dedicated a version of the Slipknot song 'Snuff' to the late Paul Gray, one of the members of Slipknot, the tears started. It was moving, it was beautiful and it was a fine tribute from one man to his friend, and from the fans to a musician they respected, as almost everyone was singing along. In short, it was one of my highlights of the day, so thank you Corey...

Next up was the mighty Motley Crue. I love Motley Crue. I don't care how many people tell me they're rubbish, I've been devoted to them since I was a teenager and, having seen them in a tent at Download festival a few years ago, there was no way I was missing this. I was, however, on my own, as I am the only Crue freak on my gang. So while Ray and Hannah managed to get awesome positions at the main stage for the headliners, I perched myself at the side of the stage and sang and danced like a total maniac to my beloved Crue. It was a fantastic show (although there were a few technical hitches along the way), but they pulled out some of the real old-school stuff and made me incredibly happy by doing so. Just do 'Primal Scream' at the next one, guys, and I'll be on cloud 9!

Which brings me to the big finale. After Crue finished, I dashed to the main stage and found myself a nice little spot on the grass at the back of the arena so that I could sing and dance my little heart out all over again to the utterly brilliant, utterly mental Rammstein. There are no words to describe how epic this show was. The lights, the pyro, the fireworks, the boat over the crowd...Till Lindemann and the rest of the band were just fantastic. Stone cold sober, I danced like a lunatic burlesque-performer-come-pole-dancer throughout the whole set and loved every second of it. The only worrying thing is that there was a camera crew wandering around and started shooting me during 'Du Hast'. I live in mortal dread of the footage ever surfacing...But it was utterly, utterly fantabulous and I loved every second of it. By the time I met up with ray and Hannah again and headed back to their place, I was shattered. And yet still Hannah and I managed to stay up (after we'd all decided at 3am to stop talking and go to bed) and talk the whole night through. Oops.

In short, this was one of the best weekends of my life. I can't even sulk too much about missing my beloved Turisas on Friday (along with Alice Cooper) or not seeing Iron Maiden and Iggy and the Stooges today; I was with great company, saw some phenomenal performances and haven't laughed so hard in ages. I'm definitely already up for next year, as long as I can go with my friends again (and maybe stay over again, if they'll have me back...)

next gig, however, is next Thursday, when I'm seeing another one of my heroines: the phenomenal Sarah Jezebel Deva. That woman is an inspiration and a legend and I can't wait!

The Year of Living Dangerously

Sometimes you can really surprise yourself. Sometimes you find yourself stepping outside your comfort zone and doing things that you would never, in your wildest dreams, have ever seen yourself doing. And I know what I'm talking about because this has been my (almost) year of living dangerously...

Ok, so I haven't walked a tightrope across Niagra Falls without a safety rope or anything like that, but since August last year I've done some things that have really forced me out of my cosy little world and I have to say I feel better for it. I'm sure my list of 'achievements' probably doesn't look much to anyone else, but to a girl who would never do anything about anything because a) previous experience made me wary of repeating things, b) it was easier to just stay in my room and c) I was just too plain shy and scared to these are a prettybig deal.

So, in my year of living dangerously I have...

1) Taken a chance on love for the first time since I dated a real bastard at 17, got my heart broken and realised that it's not the end of the world;
2) Gone on holiday by myself;
3) Joined a book club;
4) Joined a writing group;
5) Shown 'real' people my writing instead of relying on the vaguaries of cyberspace;
6) Performed my work on stage;
7) Been persuaded to audition for a play;
8) Discovered that, actually, other people can be quite fabulous and don't mind the fact that I talk complete rubbish 99.9% of the time (this is my way of saying that the new friends I've made this year are totally awesome and I love them);
9) Decided to actually go to New Zealand next year instead of procrastinating and wussing out;
10) Found a buddy for burlesque and pole dancing classes, so now I can't wuss out or Melissa will be disappointed.

There are other things, too, but these are the big ones that have made me realise a lot about myself, other people and the world in general. So here's to the next year of living dangerously...maybe that walk across the falls isn't such a crazy notion after all!

The Show Must Go On...

Okay, so yesterday there was an epic fail on the blogging front again, but I have an exceptionally wonderful excuse up my sleeve. I was on the stage.

No, seriously. Stop sniggering. It's true - yours truly spent the day locked in the Palace Theatre in Southend having a mini-diva hissy fit before performing in 7 sketches as part of my Writers Group performance. So not only have I been dragged kicking and screaming into the light of day where my writing is concerned (i.e. showing it to someone who a) isn't my mother and b) I actually see as opposed to random people in cyberspace, now apparently I act as well. And considering I haven't acted since I was about 14, I actually really enjoyed it...

It's kind of amazing to think that in 3 months, not only have I joined a writing group and physically had to share my work with other people, I've also had my work performed in a proper theatre. It's totally bizarre, really. I was so scared before I went on stage to read my poem, even during the dress rehearsal in the afternoon, which was just in front of the other writers and actors, but once I'd got that one out of the way I relaxed and just did it. And it was brilliant. Apparently, even my mother was surprised - and that was a shock to me considering she knows what a drama queen I am on a daily basis!! But I now appear to have been convinced to audition for something else as well, so who knows? Maybe I'll give it a go and surprise myself!

But despite being a total ball of nervous energy yesterday, I got through it because of the brilliant friends I've made at the group, who are not only fabulous writers and performers but incredibly wonderful people as well. So...to Daisymay, Hannah and Dan, who stepped in and helped us out with performing and who are amazingly good; to Michael for helping us out, for acting and for almost deafening me in sketch 3; to Jack, for bullying me into acting in the first place and for managing to direct us all; and to my Three Musketeers Melissa, Danielle and Liam, who are fabulous beyond belief and put up with my complete manic-hysteria yesterday more than they should have done - thank you. I would never have got through it without you and hanging out with you over the past 3 months has been amazing. You guys are fabulous and I'm really, really pleased that I've met you! (Mel - we'll take over the world with our burlesque/pole-dancing double act!)

So here's to the next 3 months and the next performance...and I promise I'll try and be calmer next time!! xx