I love this time of night, I seem to do my best things when the daylight fades. Its like me the dark, sometimes calm and quiet but chaotic and swirly. I'm able to concentrate more, whether its writing, my other creative pursuits or simply chewing over a descision that I need to make. When I was in Wales I used to stand in uncle's back garden. I can see the stars so clearly out there, their brightness unobscured by synthetic street light. I'd stay out the for awhile looking upwards picking out the constellations, the stars like pin pricks in tin, wondering what was out there, realising that aside from being beautiful they are the only thing that man cannot destroy, that goes untouched for the most part by human hand. I'm quite lame, even at the age of 26 I still make wishes on shooting stars, because surely something so beautiful and spectacular is magical. Thats the sad thing about getting older we loose are belief in magic.
I know alot of people have stars tattooed these days, but i'm thinking about having a half sleeve done. I'm not putting details down as to the design but what I have in mind is super pretty and holds the meanings I mentioned a moment ago.
In my last blog I wrote an end note saying that I was going to be doing a piece on 'Reclaim the night' however in retrospect I feel it would be inappropriate to write a piece of that nature under the heading of this blog(single,passion, shoes and lube). So i've decided to write this one because of the head space i've been in recently and because I started squiggling notes down a month or so ago due to watching a documentary on BBC3 called 'How to live with women'. The show sends the boyfriends of long suffering girlfriends of to live with three inspirational women, who in effect mentor them and put them through their paces to turn them around. The eepisode I watched and the one that promted me to write this blog is the one with welsh boy Terry. For half of the show I thought he was a chavinistic arrogant idiot, because he was so full of himself. As the episode progressed he went to meet a journalist, who saw straight through his bravado and got hime to crack and spill. She poked at the root cause of his constant self affirmation of ''i'm lush'' seeing and listening to his response to what the journalist said to him, not only did my opinion changed but I empaathised with him. Terry fessed up that the reason behind his cocky attitude and wearing foundation, the reason for his self affirmation of ''i'm stunning'' was because when he was at school he was badly bullied for the way he looked and called ugly. It wasn't out of self love or vanity he was trying to convince himself that he wasn't ugly. On camera he openly admits that the things he says isn't really how he see's himeself. The make-up wasn't hiding his so called bad skin. It was hiding him. Bullying regardless of what the taunts are, will ineviatbly have a psychological impact on us, it leaves nasty ass scars.
My next admission will probably shock those of you that I didn't go to school with, it'll really shock those of you that i've gotten to know since i've been living in Ex. But I was actually bullied in school. And even though none of the taunts contained the word ugly, I still felt that way, ugle andd not good enough. The psychological impact I refer to above was pretty obvious in my teens. I had 0% self esteem.
I remember once I was walking down the road near my home in Cheshire and two lads(17 tops) wolf whistled at me as they drove past in their car. I remember to this day thinking that they were mean and that I knew I was ugly but they didn't have to rub it in. So when I moved down to Wales and all of a sudden the boys I liked, liked me back I marvelled at it and found it so hard to believe.
Looking back to who I was then I realise i've put alot of hard work into healing. I have scars that I fight hard to keep buried, but the low self esteem one keeps filling with pus and rearing its head into my consciousness, being that i'm opeen at the moment(and by that I mean letting my vulnerable side show, the side that only a close few are privy to). If I could go back in time and see the young me, aside from saying get the fuck out now. I'd shake her and tell to snap the hell out of it. I'm referring to the times when i'd leave the house with my head down, hiding behind my hair, with my eye's cast to the floor, when I couldn't look people in the eye because I was scared what i'd see and because I didn't feel like I was worthy of doing so, when i'd blush scarlet if a guy I liked spoke to me, how painfully shy I was. I'd tell her straight that things would change, that they get better. That the future me would be doing amazing things. And pulling blokes that looked like rockstars(metal ones) and models. And that at 18 she'll fall in love and be loved back by a man who'd write a song about her. And that all of those blokes will like her for her just the way she is. I'd also tell her to take her GCSE's and not to drop out of college like a twat. See its funny sitting her writing things that I would say to the old me, if only the future me could come here to the present and give me a shake, and impart some similar truths and pearls of wisdom on me.
Because even now I find shit getting to me.
Esentially I get paid to talk for a living, I have to be confident and bold. I make a point of walking upto groups of blokes and looking the one i'm attracted to square in the eyes and convince him to go to the strip club. And even when i'm having and ugly day and just want to hide away I knoww I can't. I suck it up, give myself a mental shake, take a deep breath and get on with it. If I went home with every guy that came onto me i'd be in tripple digits by now, but I don't go home with any of them, maybe if I did I would discover one, just one that wouldn't rather be putting his dick in someone else. See when I get knocked back these days by guys i'd consider dating, I find myself wishing that I was like the girl they've chosen over me(and yes I know right give yourself a slap Claude) I can't believe how brutally honest i'm being but its cathartic. I do that revert back to my self loathing ways, the inferioty complex starts to fluctuate again, see when you're made to feel and or told that you are worth nothing for so long that shit sticks as I pointed out earlier it leads to psychological damage which seeps into your adult hood. I think I find myself comparing myself to these women as men arn't honest enough and yes I know it sounds pathetic but I know i'd go away not being so brutal on myself if they just said why. Because in reality just because those blokes have chosen a better option. It dosn't mean that i'm nobodies first choice or that i'm the booby prize.
I'm many things. Confident, shy, vibrant, hot headed, honest, creative, passionate, stubborn, control freak, messy, hyper, a listener, a talker, funny, ditzy, intelligent, in need of Prozac when i'm PMS'ing. I'm all of those things but honestly when it comes down to it lets just face it they're just words that hold no weight or meaning if the person that they belong to dosn't even like herself right.
Things i'm liking right now
Listening with the window open, to the rain thats hammering down right now.
Lazy afternoons in the park with my best friend.
Homances (i came up with this, defintion: a date with your female friend that will not result in any sexual activity. Boys can have bromances now we can have Homances)
Tommy Flanagan he plays Chibs in Sons of Anarchy he's an amazingly gifted actor.
My new dresses by Yumi, quirky and cute <3
Things i'm not liking right now
That I havn't had any dick for a week! And yes it is a long time!
The way I feel about myself right now...uggggh!
That season 3 of SOA isn't available on DVD over here until October rrrrrr
That my punch bag is still in Wales (learn how to fly damn it)
On that note i'll leave it there lovely peoples
Have a good week, Kinky Cupcake XOX