Are you really here, or am I dreaming? I can't tell dreams from truth. For it's been so long since I have seen you. I can hardly remember your face anymore.

It's not that I havent got things inside, that I wanna spill out on here. Far from it.
I just....
I think I've become a little lazy. Logging into here feels more like a chore, compared to Facebook and the like.
Even with my unforgivable neglect here, I've just checked the stats, and this place is getting around four hundred hits a month. To me, that's like totally fucked up. Most of them are Google searches, but some are direct hits. The majority is split between Canada and Russia.
Hello and Zdravstvuj.

Christmas is just two days away. Well one actually, considering it's gone midnight now.
I've come to the conclusion that I'm always gonna struggle with Christmas time. 
I'm trying to learn to live with it.
I've decided to spend Christmas day alone. I'll see the kids in the morning, as always, but instead of joining family or friends for a meal and the rest of the day, I wanna spend some time on my own. This has been, once again, a crappy year. As crappy as it's been, I've learnt to wade through and focus on the good stuff.
Always focus on the good stuff.

The house is coming together. I still have a small bedroom to redecorate. Oh, and replace the ceiling. Then I can do my Bedroom and carpet the hall, stairs and landing. A few things outside and fingers crossed, I'll be done. Over the last few weeks, I've been thinking about what I'm gonna do. I do love this place. There's loads of room. But....there's too much room. I know it will probably not make much financial sense; downsizing to something more sensible will probably be the same for me, financially. But downsizing is what would be sensible, should I decide to stick around here. But fuck me, I really do dislike the Midlands. So, I've also been considering selling up, and finding a place back in Manchester. I really felt at home in that city.
I'm sure it will come to me....eventually.

Excuse me for a while. Turn a blind eye, with a stare caught right in the middle. Have you wondered for a while? I have a feeling deep down you’re caught in the middle.

I've just subscribed to Q Magazine again.
I cancelled it a few years ago, whilst I was really struggling with money, and I never renewed it because I felt like it was a luxury I could afford to be without.
I can't even begin to express how good I'm feeling right now, being in a better position to be able to afford myself one small luxury.
Amazing.

I know it wont last for much longer, since they screwed us all over by changing the pay plan. But whilst we're a man down, and the other guy is so pissed off that he's all but given up trying, I'm taking advantage to mop up while I still can. When they fill the vacant desk, and if the other guy sorts himself out or gets replaced, things will change. Pffffft,. I'm gonna have to seriously consider moving jobs again.

Last night I booked a couple of holidays at work. The first one starts next week. Much as I'd like a proper rest, the bathroom isn't gonna finish itself.
A few weeks ago, I decided it was a good idea to strip the bathroom out. With the bath, vanity until, shower and sink out, I could have a better look at how all the pipe-work was set out. And what a fucking mess. There was a boxed section next to the vanity unit. All the wall tiles came off pretty easily, and that boxed section was covering up a mass of dead-leg pipework. To top it off, I stripped ceiling tiles off the ceiling, to see if the original ceiling was workable. It wasn't. The ceiling tiles had been glued to the original ceiling to cover up a small leak from the shower in the en-suite above. Only a small leak, but enough to have destroyed the original ceiling over time. So, I ripped the ceiling out too.
My bathroom is a mess. It's been a mess for a few weeks now.

Hopefully, in just over two weeks time, my bathroom will be finished.

And the ones that I made pay were never the ones who deserved it. Those who helped me along the way, I smacked 'em as I thanked 'em. Yes, I know I'm going to Hell in a leather jacket. 'Least I'll be in another world while you're pissing on my casket.

The guy who lives next door with his wife (I think he said they were married?) and their two very young children, has just stormed out again. Last night, I could hear raised voices, escalating into burst of shouting. Followed by banging doors.
They both seem like really nice people, although I haven't really spoken to her, just seen here here and there, and we've both been politely acknowledging to the other. Albeit in a slightly awkward way.
I wonder if they get pissed of with the volume of music, at times. Not that I'm unreasonable. I do like to listen to music loud, but it's always at an acceptable volume when time gets on. I wouldn't ever play loud stuff late, because of their young children. I know that would be unfair, and I've been on the receiving end of that myself, and it's a horrible situation.

Around Christmas, they had a few blazing rows. I could hear his voice over the sound of the my TV at times. After a few nights like this, he disappeared. Slamming the door behind him, my walls rattles, and off he went. He appeared back after the New Year. I came back from work one day and his car was back on their drive.
They've had a few stormy nights since then.

I'm undecided as to whether I should say something to one of them. In a roundabout way, like when I see one of them out the front when I come back from work, or maybe over the fence in the back garden, just to casually say, "Is everything alright?". I don't think I'm being too intrusive, and I'm being genuine. Of course I'm concerned, particularly as their are two very young children in the house. I'd never forgive myself if something terrible happened and I could have prevented it, somehow. And with me being so casual about asking them, perhaps they will think about it afterwards, and it might dawn on them that I can hear them arguing. Maybe that will ease some of their tension....remembering that I can hear them. I know I don't like the idea of a neighbour hearing what I get up to in my own house.

Didn't ask you to save me. Not when you knew me well. Wouldn't ask you even to behave for me. I know there's no help in hell.

So, several weeks into my new role at work. All has been going very well, and if I carry on like this, I might even be able to dig myself out of the debt pit I've been sat in for the last oh so many years. Eventually.
Nice timing then, when the big bosses at work have decided to change our pay plans. We've had a months notice to let us now our commission structures will change, and as such, we will all be earning less. For me that means financially I'll be back to where I came from.
Shit Happens.
Good job I don't need money to be happy.
A little every now and then would be nice though.

I have searched for you, in the darkness of a dozen dingy dance floors. In countless queues in cafes in the suburbs. In the bed clothes of a thousand stranger's bedrooms.

I'm getting stoned tonight.
It's been a long, long, long time since I've had a smoke.
I don't miss it. I don't long for it. I don't crave for another.

As with most drugs, getting stoned affects different people in all kinds of different ways.
For me, I feel an amazing connection with music. I love music anyway. Music is my life. But enjoying music after one has partaken on a spliff, I feel connected to it in a whole different level. A much more emotional connection. I feel it much more. And I keep hearing new parts in the songs, buried deep within the rhythms, but I'd never heard them before.
I also do a lot thinking while I'm stoned. I don't know why, but my brain just feels more active.

Don't wait for me.

Who would you blame for blowing the flame right out? Is it me? There is no doubt I can do what I want to do, from now until forever. Let's have less of getting clever with me.

I started this blog in the aftermath of being dumped by a girl. A girl who I thought the world of. But the relationship was moving faster than my emotions could cope, as this was my first real relationship since the break up of my marriage. And I still carried those scars for a long time afterwards.
When she finished things with us, it wasn't so much her reasons for doing it, as I could see her point of view, but her actions afterwards that hurt the most. Within days, she made sure I knew she was seeing someone else. She kept stringing me along with confusingly suggestive text messages and late hour voicemails of tears and love and missing. Like a fool, I fell for it, for a while. Within weeks, he was moving his stuff into her place, and introducing himself into her kids lives. That was painful. Within months, she told me she was selling her house and moving down to the south coast, to his home town. Just like that! I mean....fuck.
Years later, I came across and old work colleague when I was scrolling through company employee names on the email address book. Out of the blue, he mentioned her. Said he thinks she got herself a drug problem, gained a load of weight and never heard anymore after she left work and moved away.

Last week, I found myself thinking about her. Where she is now. If it worked out for her, what she's doing and if she's happy? I tried searching for her on Facebook, but she's got quite a common name, and she may even be married. I've considered contacting other people on Facebook who would have known both of us. But I haven't done anything about that consideration yet.

She had great dress sense. A little bohemian. Lovely long hair, a really cute tattoo and always wore matching under-wear. We had a conversation about it once. She said it was important to her, it made her feel good about herself, like she'd made an effort.
We met outside a swimming baths.

And there's a part of me that still believes, my soul will soar above the trees. But a desperate fear flows through my blood, that a dead love's buried beneath the mud.

I'm hoping that going forward, I'm going to see a slight improvement in my finances. My role at work has switched, and if I can make it work, then hopefully my earnings will improve. Then perhaps I can start to make a dent in this debt, and do some more things around the house.
Having such a lack of money has meant I've really missed out on life lately. With no spare cash I've not been to any gigs, seen any movies at the cinema, been bowling, been out for any drinks (not counting the last one with work colleagues because that was a paid for night), and have generally avoided hanging out with friends, for fear it leads to costing me money; not just for food, or drinks or whatever, but even for the fuel it's costs me to get there. Ridiculous, I know. But it's how I've been living. And in a way, having that as an excuse has made me feel a little easier about spending most of my time alone.
The real reason though....I've lost a lot of confidence in myself. Particularly in my ability to trust people, almost certainly as a result of my last disastrous relationship.
I'm perfectly happy spending all this time with myself. I have the two cats and music to keep me sane.
I really hope this isn't a permanent feeling though.

So save your breath, I will not care. I think I made it very clear. You couldn't hate enough to love. Is that supposed to be enough?

So, we're already into February and it's been okay.
Usually by the second or third week of January, I'm already thinking it's gonna be another shitty year. But it's been okay.

Currently feeling like John Cusacks' character in Hi Fidelity.

It's in the water, baby. It's in the pills that bring you down. It's in the water, baby. It's in your bag of golden brown.

We are fast approaching that time of the year.
Christmas bears too many scars, and feels tainted beyond repair. New years eve holds too many dark memories, the darkest almost swallowing me whole.

Christmas is a time that many people don't realize just how lucky they are. The homeless, the lonely, the dying, the people spending this time of year without their friends around, without their family near, feeling like they are unloved. Even unlovable. No matter how shit we think our lives feel, there's always someone, somewhere....probably not very far away, who would give anything to swap places. I read earlier that the reported number of homeless people sleeping on the street in London has risen over 40% in the last twelve months. That's not just horrifying, it's unacceptable in this day and age.

This time last year, my girlfriend was about to move in with me. Less than six months later, my rooms were empty, my trust was crushed, my heart was broken and I found myself alone once again. I had no furniture left in the house, save a bed, a fridge and a very old TV that had an off coloured picture which pulled at one side. I'm slowly building things back up. Slowly making the repairs. Slowly building my life back.
My ex-girlfriend grew out of her stalking phase a few months ago, and even though I'd really like to hear from her, or one of her family or friends, to say that she's doing ok. That she's managed to get herself off that shit she was on, and keep herself clean. In a way, I don't. Because I'm scared that I'm going to be disappointed.

I've had some really shit years, particularly lately. And I always find myself trying to focus, trying to stay positive, and think to myself that the next year will be better. Even just a small amount better, but better none-the-less.
I won't be sorry to see the arse end of this year. Good riddance 2012. You sucked big, fat, smelly donkey bollocks.

I'm gonna make a point of staying up and raising a glass at midnight, this year.

Silhouette of emptiness, wrapped up in thoughts of nothing less. My chest is pressed, as I attempt to cross this bridge you're building.

The last few days, I've been feeling like I've making an impressive dent in the progress of getting this house back in order.
Having rebuilt the kitchen from scratch, rebuilt walls, redecorated, new floors, lots of painting....downstairs is pretty much done. Bar a couple of small odd 'n' ends. I'm off work for a week now, so most of that will be finishing off redecorating the three bedrooms. Then I can sort out what furniture I'm short of. I've been picking bits and pieces up at an auction I've started to go to. It's all used stuff, some very well used, but there's certainly some bargains to be had. That will leave the bathroom to completely rebuild, sorting carpets for the hall, stairs and landings, then finally the top bedroom. It still sounds like a lot. And it doesn't finish there either. There's loads of other things that need fixing or replacing or whatever; I've got trees out the front that need removing or cutting right back. I've got some guttering issues, the garage door is fucked, there's fencing needs replacing, the garden is in need of a total overhaul and I'd like to paint the front of the house as well.
Blimey. And there was me just thinking I'd done so much already, when now I just feel deflated.
Shit.