A Rant

This is going to be very boring so I suggest you don't read it but I would like to have a little rant about some small personal things that have been bugging me lately.

First off, my ex housemates. Fair enough they don't want me to live with them, even fair enough that they wrote that stuff about me. But not cool- not replying to mine and my mum's various emails about letting out my room. It is costing my mum £78 A WEEK to keep it empty, so when they don't reply... well. So I put up ads, got replies and tried to organise a viewing cos I managed to speak to one of the housemates. But then they said that they had to cancel it because he hadn't spoken to the whole house. So I have done all the work (again), tried to book viewings, EVEN PICKED PEOPLE I THOUGHT THEY WOULD FUCKING GET ON WITH, and they haven't even got back to me. Like, they won't have viewings. And today, when I asked for an update about whether they've discussed it yet, I get a reply saying they're hoping to have more information for me in a week. I mean, what the fuck? That's ANOTHER 78 quid. It's been a MONTH AND A HALF since I moved out. And now they're being so obtuse and uncooperative and it really fucks me off because i'm trying to be nice but forceful and it's stressing me out because I don't want to wasting any of my mum's money. Ridiculous.

Then of course there's the classic my-dad-keeps-giving-money-to-all-my-brothers thing which is bugging me more and more. Not because I want money at all, nothing like that, but it's just he refuses to communicate with mum and then expects stuff off her that hasn't been agreed. And he is STILL financing my brother in Australia and letting my other one live with him at no cost, while continually going on and on at me about how poor he is now he's starting to retire and how he can't afford to do stuff. What is the point in moaning at me about it when i'm not the one using your fucking money? Oh, and he's also decided that he's a christian again, has a spiritual guide and seems to think, even said to me, that he has 'lived by christian morals and values all his life'. Hmmm. Right... SURE you have.

And I had an appointment thing with some random community care team lady for yet another stupid assessment, with my care coordinator/ counsellor there as well, and she asked me ALL the same questions I have answered a million times, and she could care less about me or what I would like. And she says that there's nothing they can do until the new year at the earliest and even then it's only short term and blah blah blah. And now they might make her my new care coordinator and I don't even get a say and I really don't like her because she seems to have no soul and looks a little bit like my ex headmistress and doesn't know anything about me, which means I would have to start from scratch and go through everything again, just to get the same level of support. It's stupid.

And my step dad. Meh. Bleurgh.

And grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr essentially even though these are not really big issues just frustrations.

In short, I am FRUSTRATED and a little bit pissed off.

Beginners

I want to write so badly. But I don't know what I want to write about.

Some days, I want to write about everything. About the past, about what's going on, about my family, about my friends, about how suddenly I can't listen to certain songs, about how people are, about what I feel I should be doing.

Some days, I want to write about how amazing every single one of my friends is, how I could spend hours talking about each one of them and still not have said it all, how much every one of them makes me feel, how any individual memory of them could make me laugh for hours, or how I could remember all I have done and how that relates to them, how much they have made me a better person.

Some days, I want to talk about my old friends. What I should be doing right now, where I could be, what I could be saying, who I could be talking to, what could be happening, how they could be helping.

Some days, all I want to talk about is TV. How Doctor Who changed my perspective on those who refuse to change from the past, about how they can't make anything from the lessons. About how I can be absolutely mindless when it comes to ANTM (understandable) and how great it is that it makes me feel nothing, how the potential of Heroes makes me angry or how, no matter how hard I try, I still don't get Supernatural, or the Vampire Diaries, or True blood.

Some days, all my head thinks over is shot composition in films, the symmetry, or lack thereof. The positioning of one actor, the removal of another. The focus, the composition, the lighting, their representation within the action, the music used to highlight their status or the silence to emphasise the fear.

Some days, all I can think about is music. The rhythms, the bands, how to listen to what without ruining the mood, what place it's easiest to think with a soundtrack in my head, the longest journeys I can take so I can listen to as many albums as possible, how I feel I should be analysing it far more than I am, questioning my ability to revel in the guilt of reliving a past Mcfly album, hiding my obsession with the new Ke$ha single, wallowing in the self pitying tones of Elliot Smith or Dylan, missing the songs i've lost and looking forward to the ones I've yet to judge.

Some days, I wish I could pacify my mother, return her to simplicity, control her naivity. Some days I wish I wasn't on tenterhooks, waiting on calls and questions about my health I can't answer.

Some days, I wish I didn't hope my life was like that of TV characters, where problems are resolved by two episodes, and everything underlying was brought out and confronted. That every move I make is controlled by my exact desires towards a specific goal.

Some days. I wish I could just say everything and not regret it.

Some days, I wish I could write.