Saturday, October 29, 2005 

Someone to Care

A small smile comes to my face as a low buzz fills the room. Verification that I'm loved- I've received a text. I don't use my phone in emergencies, most the time I actually need it I've completely forgotten where I last put it. I guess the sole reason I have a phone is to prove to myself that people do love me, I have friends. I'm pathetic, I know, but I can't help it. I don't particularly care what the texts say, mostly I don't reply due to lack of money or forgetting where I last put my top up card. But I do love receiving them, I love the knowledge that someone, somewhere, remembers that I exist and have spared a thought to send me a message, find out how I am.

I don't know if I'll ever manage to have children. The idea of someone I adore screaming that they hate me, that they can't stand me and that I'm the worst mother in the world... I need to be loved more than anything else in the world. I can't stand the feeling when you're sitting there in an empty room and there is no one, no one that knows you're there, no one that cares. If someone I loved as much as my child rejected me, someone that had come from inside me not just been inside me (though rejection from them is bad enough). I'm not good at that kind of rejection, if I don't feel loved I don't feel anything.

I'm not sure if that makes me weak, it is definitely a weakness. I don't want to be weak, but I do want to be honest, and if that proves that I'm not strong then so be it. I don't believe that I'm not strong, just someone who's been hurt and who needs a little more love because of it.

It's chris telling me she's changed her number. That's good, she's been getting a stupid amount of hassle from T-mobile and needed to change her sim. It isn't an important text, but for a moment it reminds me that there are people out there who still care for me. That's all I need, all I want. Just someone to care.



Ten Steps to Enlightenment

  1. Tidy up- the place is a tip. Can’t have uncluttered mind wih cluttered living area.
  2. Spend less time thinking about things and more time doing them. Spend too much time thinking and people will think you’re slow.
  3. Become wonderfully witty conversationalist.
  4. Stamp out sarcasm. What seemed witty when I was twelve becomes pathetic in anyone older.
  5. Use thesaurus to look up synonyms of “witty”.
  6. Read more than two pages of “Zen an the art of motorcycle maintenance”.
  7. Exercise regularly to become gorgeous glowing individual.
  8. Drink wine rather than spirits to become sophisticated person who eats cheese and stuff.
  9. Eat lots of fruit and vegetables.
  10. Go to sleep at normal time rather than making pointless lists at stupid times in the morning.


Friday, October 28, 2005 


I tried to separate myself from blogger. I feared that if I had the same people reading the same things over and over again they would lose interest. There was also the horrific fear that they would become too close, they would work out who I was from the words that I sent out into the ether in my maddened state and need to express myself to others. So I searched for another host, one where I would be completely on unknown. It didn't work. I can't find anything that is pretty enough to justify changing my blog host. I'm not sure if blogger is even pretty enough to justify changing my blog.

In explanation, I have many things, blogs included. The number of blogs I now have is slightly stupid to be perfectly honest with you. This one is, of course new. But the last one I had was serious, it was good and it would have been perfect. But I prefer to be anonymous. It wasn't that, there were too many people who knew me, who could probably tell you exactly who I was talking about regardless of the names that I didn't say. Anonymity is important to me, maybe one day, if you read that far ahead, you will find out why. Somehow I doubt it. I can't be honest if I am worrying that someone will know all that I am talking about, therefore my secrets.

You can tell the world your secrets, but to know everything would be to hold the key to you. No one should hold that key.


Sunday, October 02, 2005 


I'm an emotional writer. I write what I think and feel at the time I feel it. Unfortunately I'm as constant as the tide and far more fickle. I'm also human. If I feel hurt then I'll lash out, I'll say things I don't mean, and though a lot of the things I say will generally be based on fact, they will also be twisted slightly in ways that make me feel better without actually taking the truth from them, but taking a lot away from an accurate interpretation of them.

The things that aren't straight facts. Those unfortunately, are either my own opinions, or other's. To take them as fact is as constructive as going out and jumping off a cliff because someone told you it was the best way to learn to fly. It probably is the best way to learn how to fly, but you also have to take into account that you weren't born with wings. Also, to take offense is silly. We were born to disagree with someone. You grow up fighting with siblings, parents, then when you're adult you fight with colleagues and partners as well. The reason world peace eludes us so brilliantly is simply the fact that we never agree with everyone. We rarely agree with someone. There are very few people who will agree with even the smallest amount of what I say, and I can't help that or change what I think because someone else thinks different. If I tried that then I wouldn't have the same viewpoint for longer than five minutes.

What I say isn't meant harmfully. It isn't meant to sway people towards my way of thinking, nor to deliberately cause contention. I'm not a leader of a political party, or an activist for Greenpeace. I'm not religious, or nonreligious, I am, in all essences, pretty much unremarkable. I have freedom of speech, and sometimes I use it. Disagree with me, close the window in which you are reading what I think, but don't send me abuse or take offence.

For purposes of anonymity, most of the names of people and places have either been left out, generalised, or changed. If any have been left in, or are so obvious that it doesn't matter, and you have a problem with that, then feel free to email me and I will delete either segments or the post in its entirety.

I enjoy feedback, and am more than willing to change my views to encompass another more persuasive argument. I'm open minded. So please, do not hesitate to contact me using the email address in the sidebar.

Thank you for your time.


Saturday, October 01, 2005 

About the author

This is a girl of a meager twenty one years who spends most of her time contemplating things of little interest, or spouting views both religious, political and romantic that cause people to wince. Her two favourite things involve practically any flavour ice cream (though preferably pistachio) and men. She used to live in a little village just off the main road to everywhere else, where the only thing she found attractive about that arrangement was the erratically regular bus service. She subsequently got bored and shifted herself to the marginally bigger and much more interesting capital of Scotland. This situation at least means a fairly regular stream of Starbucks and a much better bus service.
Her two favourite songs in the whole world are Colourblind by Counting Crows, and Bittersweet symphony by The Verve. Though she is also quite happy to listen repeatedly to The Killers album Hot Fuss for hours on end.
In her writing Hatty endeavours to be either poetic, or at least grammatically correct. Unfortunately, upon most occasions this does not seem to be the case. She has a strong tendency towards introspection, and can get slightly hung up on the numptyness of men.
She has an extremely addictive personality and loves alcohol, dancing, and anywhere that involves both a little more than she should do. She comes from a family which can only be called dysfunctional, and attributes this as the reason for which she adores everything of what is best called a slightly strange persuasion.
She finds life is best looked at from a different perspective, so if you see her hanging upside down, or perched upon her wardrobe while writing, don’t be shocked. She is incredibly superstitious and can see signs in the most mundane things. She reads tarot cards relatively accurately, and lives in constant fear of coming up with death, the devil, and the lightening struck tower in one reading.
She has crazy friends, crazy boyfriends, and a crazy family. She is, in all respects, totally insane. But she enjoys it thoroughly, and if anyone tried to take it away from her she’d be the first and loudest to protest.


About me

  • An albatross can fly for thousands of miles without getting tired. I've always thought that love is similar to flying, therefore we should aspire to be like the albatross.

    I don't know if I can do that. So far I haven't been so lucky. But one day I'll test my wings with someone, and flying won't be so hard after all. Or so painful.
My profile

Save the Albatrosses


    * In 2001 one New Zealand fishing boat killed over 300 seabirds in just one trip, while fishing for ling.
    * Each year over 300,000 seabirds are killed by longline fishing.
    * Over the past 60 years some albatross populations have declined by 90%.
    * Annually around 10,000 albatross and petrels are caught in New Zealand waters alone.
  • Save the Albatrosses
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