Thank you frailty. Thank you consequence. Thank you, thank you silence.

Don't ever forget that you're better than this,
This feeling of guilt,
And worthlessness,
And becoming the worst joke ever.

Your life story isn't over yet,
There's more to tell,
And people who would listen,
If you didn't find it so difficult
To Swallow
Your Pride.

Turn the lights up, so you can see what you're doing.

You'll take me on a journey and be there 'till the end. It won't be an uphill struggle, on you I can depend.

With each stroke of the brush, with each swoop of the roller, I felt like I was taking a step closer. Mental motivation being driven by the sounds that made me dream of opening up a coffee shop where people could relax with a tasty beverage and be swooned by a soundtrack that followed no particular pattern at all.
The word 'random' being slightly ill-fitting, as each song revived a memory in-between their slurps of coffee.

Martin Solveig followed Tori followed The Stones followed The Chilli Peppers followed Placebo followed Crowded House followed Gwen McCrae followed Suede followed The Libertines followed Depeche Mode followed Hard-Fi followed Li'l Kim followed Freemasons followed James followed Fatboy Slim followed Prince followed The Pigeon Detectives followed Jack Johnson followed Sugababes followed Delays followed Sean Paul followed Sade followed Muse followed Coldplay followed Duran Duran followed Alanis followed Easy Star All*Stars followed Jem followed Paul Anka followed Massive Attack followed ELO followed The Waterboys followed Meat Loaf followed Pulp followed 10,000 Maniacs followed Paris Angels followed Sandi Thom followed Thrice followed The Walker Brothers followed Paolo Nutini followed Ciara followed Guns 'n' Roses followed Lemon Jelly followed The Smiths followed Gadjo followed Stone Temple Pilots followed Bjork followed Frankee followed Luma followed The Faces.
And it all began with The Stone Roses.
It became clear that it was time to down tools when The Bee Gees showed their faces. More evidence that being stoned and downloading music, do not a good idea make.

Four ceilings down, sixteen walls to go.

Don't you think it's funny that nothing's what it seems, when you're not looking forward?

Today it's been all too apparent that my head isn't in a good place at the moment.
I'm suffering from 'information overload' here.
I'm not getting a good night's sleep and my dreams are getting slightly fucked up.
There's the one about me getting up early every morning, to then going outside onto the middle bit of a Dual-Carriageway by my folks house and dancing. Watching and waving to the cars zooming past, dancing. Dancing my little heart out. Or the one about all my family and friends helping me pack my house up, ready for moving. And it never stops. I don't have much stuff anyway, but the boxes just keep coming and coming. Or the one where The Girl and I go to a person's house for dinner. We meet his wife in the kitchen of the Country House, like a Farm-House or something similar. With animals wandering around, like chickens and goats. His wife has long blonde hair and a big hooked nose. Nothing too odd about that dream, except when the person who's house it is is a blogger who I read regularly. Not only that, but he looked exactly as he portrays himself.

I'm losing sleep and rest, my dreams are all shot to buggery, I have a meeting planned with Yellow Pages which I need to prep for, I'm trying to fix up some things on my house and I'm worried about how long it will take to sell the place. I'm worried that I won't be able to find a place up there, how much work will I get?, How do I get around a contact phone number for my Business if I don't have a landline up there myself? and what happens if all the timing goes to shit?
On top of all that spinning in my head, I'm still trying to get in as much work as I can and sometimes I've felt like I don't know if I'm coming or going.

Spontaneous combustion imminent.

I blow you a kiss. It should reach you tomorrow, as it flies from the other side of the world.

A few days ago, it began as a quick tidy up of the white gloss paintwork in the three bedrooms of my house. It's cascading into a bloody nightmare!
Who the fuck ever said painting was theraputic? They need stringing up by their balls or jump-lead clamps attaching to their nipples, whichever is most appropriate and likely to cause them the most discomfort until they take back their stupid words.
A couple of hours here and there licking up the paintwork, I thought. Wrong! More wrong than Jack McWrong from Wrongsville!
The nice, newly painted skirting boards made all the other white bits in the rooms look awful. Awful and odd. So much so, that I've been left with no choice but to re-paint all the rest of it. Window sills, door frames, radiators, those bits that the curtain poles hang from, even doors. It's never ending!
In hindsight, I should have bought an off white colour. Damn you hindsight. And fuck you too afterthought!

Another couple of hours spent finishing off the last of the glossing and then it's on to the bedroom ceilings and walls. Once that's done then I have a couple of small jobs to do. Those type of things that have have needed doing for a while but I've never got around to them, like sorting out the seal around the bath (terrible I know, considering I'm a plumber!), fixing the fence panels, tidying the garden....
....then I'm selling up.
Selling up and moving 90 miles north to be closer to The Girl. That's the plan.
Technically, it should be easy to move my business up there, considering I'm self-employed. I'm going to be close to one of the biggest Cities in the Country too, so I'm counting on being able to get lots of work. It can't possibly be any worse than where I am now. And of course (and more importantly), it won't mean a two hour drive to see The Girl anymore. The distance between us sucks!
No more stuck on the Motorway from hell. No more putting up with idiot drivers who all seem to be under the impression they own all three lanes. No more large fuel bills. No more only being able to see each other on weekends.
It all still seems so far away, but the wheels have been set in motion.

In April, The Girl and I will have been together two years. In that time, we've managed to overcome lots of barriers, obstacles and general shit that goes hand in hand with having a long distance relationship. It hasn't been easy, but we've overcome things that have got in the way and it's now time to smile to ourselves, knowing that we beat the odds.
It's a huge step for both of us. I know it's me that's selling my house, leaving family and friends behind, relocating my business and pretty much starting again from scratch, but I'm also very aware that it's a huge deal for The Girl too. And in essence, everything I'm doing is because I know that our relationship is totally worth it.

If somebody would have told me two years ago that I would be doing this now, I would have scoffed at them.
It just goes to show that you never know what's around the corner.

Take my photo off the wall if it just won't sing for you.

The best thing about getting things wrong is that you can always draw something from the experience and go forward from there.
The learning curve of life begins with the first breath and ends with the last. And difficult as it is to maintain, everything inbetween those significant moments should bestow ambition enough for a person to want to be the best that they can be.
Absolutely no one person is perfect. And no one person is any more important than another in the true scheme of things. But lay down, or refuse to get back up after faltering, and you make it easier for people to think such things.

'Impossible' is just a word and it holds no more importance than 'belief'.

Go to sleep now, little ugly. Go to sleep now, you little fool.

I've grown a beard.
There's been no reason for it, other than I just wanted to do something different with my face.
It now presents me with somewhat of a dilema; keep it or lose it.
If I keep it, then I'm wondering if I should leave it au naturel giving the likes of Brian Blessed a run for his money or should I tend to it with care and attention as if it's some new facial accessory. Either way, it's not just myself I have to think about. I can't imagine it's a very nice feeling having whispy bristles rubbing into all sorts of intimate places. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like to have feelings of pleasure disrupted by the sensation of brillo pads rubbing up against certain parts of my body.
Which leaves me the second option of losing it. Fairly easily done, however it's now a length that is beyond a simple razor's comprehension. The results would kill the usable life of at least one, maybe two razors with all the scraping and dragging through, most likely leaving me with shaving rash a-plenty.

Who ever thought a beard could prove to be so much bloody trouble.

Stop in the morning, through to the evening. Dance like you’re the only one around.

Magna res est vocis et silentii temperamentum.

I'm in the business of misery, let's take it from the top. She's got a body like an hourglass, it's ticking like a clock.

Two gig nights in summary:

30 Seconds To Mars.
Initial thoughts of "what the fuck!" when standing in a queue to the venue. Never had to queue before a gig like that before! Ever! An hour later, we finally got in.
Support band were pretty good, but tried way too hard. Don't even know who they were?! Quite liked the bassist's "Eat Shit and Die" T-shirt though.
Dramatic entrance by 30 Seconds To Mars. Didn't recognize the first song, possibly down to awful, awful sound mixing. Why is it that the first song is always so bad with the mix? Isn't that what the sound check is for?
Tight set. Great light show. Gigantic guitar sounds. Very, very loud. Once the sound was sorted out, Jared's vocals were brilliant, and boy can that guy scream. Damn good looking dude as well. Drummer pounded away like his life depended on it. Nice acoustic break towards the end. Lot's of crowd surfing. Couple of stupid idiots trying to get a mosh-pit going. Brave move by Jared stage diving into the crowd, twice.
Really enjoyed the gig. Not so, the tenner it cost to park the car.


Paramore.
Initial thoughts of "you gotta be fucking joking!" when it became all too apparent this queue beat the previous one, hands down. Cold, drizzle, biting winds. Surrounded by kids with pen scribble all over their arms and hands. Rumours sweeping the queue that 200 extra tickets had been sold in error and some people would be refused entry. Oh great! It's like a fucking MySpace party out here!
Doors open at 7pm. Finally get into the venue just after 8pm. Just in time to hear "thanks, you've been great" coming from the departing band on stage. Fantastic planning by the promotors, NOT!
Next band on is Kids In Glass Houses. Welsh. Pretty good from what I heard. Obviously have a huge MySpace following. A little bit like Funeral For A Friend, without the shouty guy. Crowd sings along to all the songs. Loud, short set, but lots of confidence. I liked them.
New Found Glory are next on. Used to like some of their songs. Have a new dislike for them now. Arrogant, up their own arses, bunch of tossers. Sound mix was all over the place. Eight song set that included two cover versions?! During one of them, Hayley (from Paramore) comes on to duet and it's awful. What the fuck?! Once again, crowd loved them. Two mosh-pits appear. Wonderful! Bunches of 12 to 16 year olds attempt to 'go all krazy'. Me secretly hoping they say "...and now for our last song....". Can't come soon enough. Twats.
Paramore finally show up at 9.40pm. Crowd goes nuts. Never seen so many camera-phones being held up in my life. People around me mention posting their footage on YouTube. I'd like to say they did a great set. They didn't. I was desperately trying to ignore the fact the guitarist's mic was louder than Hayley's for almost half the set. It's ok though, the MySpace crowd don't seem to be bothered by it. 70 minutes later and it was all over.
I like their latest album, so I was frustrated and ultimately very disappointed by the live experience. For me, they just didn't cut it as a live band and apart from blaming the dreadful audience, I just don't know why. At several points during the night, it actually felt like a Hannah Montana concert (but with louder guitars and the occasional power chord). Not that I've been to one of those, but I've seen the TV show, seen the clips, read the blurb....
They were selling pre-orders for a ltd edition CD recorded from the night's gig. Ha! Good luck to the sound mixer on that one!

For me, a very, very disappointing gig. Almost up there with Evanescence.

Come break me down. Bury me, bury me. I am finished with you.

I think I'm allowing too many things to influence me.
My decisions.
They are mine.

My dreams are filled with the stuff of nightmares.
Taunting me.
Casting doubts.

I give myself until the end of this week to be sure. To put it to sleep. To end the constant cycle of 'this', 'that' and 'the other'. Not to mention the 'what ifs'.
My focus is blurred by all this indecision and it's doing my head in. I need that focus to bring back my aim.

There's plenty of time this weekend to do some serious soul searching, in between the 30 Seconds To Mars gig tonight and the Paramore one on Monday.

Stop burying your head in the sand!