one of the goblins from the Labyrinth! *woo!yeah!*
Ok, it's a cat, but still, I can't be the only one that thinks this.
He/she (didn't get close enough to check that one...) barged their way in, strutted round the house, jumped on the work top, then left. Charming.
Strangely the only other time we've seen him/her was this time last year.
It's like the Santa.
Except in mid October.
And they're a cat.
So, I'm sitting in the car waiting for dad to come out of B&Q and this couple walk past and I had to do a double take - I swear they're the absolute spit of Rob Pattinson and Kristen Stewart (pre Joan Jett cut, but still black). That's weird right?
Do you think they were together before and this is how they've always dressed? Or maybe they thought, 'hey, we look kinda like them, lets dress like them too!' or maybe people that look like them are always drawn to each other? Like a style magnet?
They should run an ad campaign.
'Hey, if you scruff up like RP you too can catch a sexy Miss Stewart'
(did you see that photo shoot she did recently? Ok, I swear I like guys but there is totally something about her...I think it's the eyes....and I want her pre Joan Jett hair. She may rock it, I'd look like a prat.)
Bugger. I said I'd stop talking about them didn't I? 'damn the press! stop the gossip/hounding madness!' It was just so surreal...
Ok, change of subject-
I've just worked out how to get my iTunes songs into MP3 format so I can save them onto CD. I know it's not that exciting for some but I'm worryingly happy about this. I'm not sure I should be quite *this* happy...
I think I need a new hobby.
Mum says her art teacher has a space in her Fri afternoon classes. I'm in 2 minds.
On one hand I love art, I really do. It's something I know I want to do for ever. Thing is, I know if I want to be able to do what-have-you in the future it will require practise (insert cliche phrase here). BUT I want to get it right first time dammit! It's that total lack of patience again. Stupid personality flaws.
Eurgh.
Ok...
As is the habit on here (ignoring last month's lesson a day wotsit) I tend to only come on when I have a major thing swirling round in my head.
About a month or so ago dad went to get his hair cut (bear with me, this is going somewhere). Now at some point me and/or mum must have come up in the conversation with the old barber guy as dad comes home with a tale of how old barber guy knows a dude that was cured. As in lives a life like the normal folk do. And not only that, but he'll tell you how he did it if you call him.
All sounds a bit odd yeah? I'm pretty wary of things like this. Fairly certain the whole world is out to con you. I am my fathers daughter.
Mum called him up last week. I'm not sure exactly what was said but the basic was - he got glandular fever when he was 15 (snap) spent about 5 years in bed, tried pretty much everything his mum could find. Finally tried this thing that 'fixed' him. Hair analysis. Send of a few strands (and £60) they do some tests, find out what you have too much/too little of and start you on a detox type plan (with zeolite?) that of course they supply.
Thing is, he doens't work for them.
He doesn't get a commision.
And he was talking to mum at 10am after getting in at 4am from clubbing the night before.
I can't bear it.
I want it, but what if it's a lie?
What if I get close but then lose it?
I've wanted this for so long.
The cure. The fix.
Yeah, I know it won't work for everyone, but what if it did?
Or what if it doesn't and it breaks me.
I've watched my friends finish school, go to college, get jobs, move house, get married, have children.
Could I finally have that?
Would it be worth the £60 (and however much more after) if there's a chance?
Of course the obvious answer is yes. But I'm scared.
What if I can't do it?
And I don't mean recover - I mean live.
What if, after all this time, I don't have the ability to learn. To finish my education. To deal with people and get an actual job. Survive living by myself. Maybe even , dare I say it, find love? Is that even possible? Goodness knows I have met guys, they just never want to know. Not even so drunk they'd hump a lamppost kind of guys (not that I'm complaining there, just - you know - am I so bad even beer goggles can't help?!)
I imagine I'm over thinking again.
Just - living with this crap for 10 years you do have quite a while to analyse the shit out of *everything*. And it sucks.
I'm not even sure what I've typed now.
Maybe I'll come back tomorrow and see what a freak I am.
There is an answer in my ramblings I know - just need to find it.
x
