Contemplating the Silence

15 04 2013

There is a silence in my flat tonight that I am not used to anymore, and I have to admit that I am not enjoying my solitude. You see I have a permanent little fixture who is not with me tonight and I admit whole heartedly that I miss my little four legged friend.

She adopted me at Christmas time, I was looking for a specific type of breed of dog and she was advertised as such, but when I went to see this little pup who was the last of her litter it was more than obvious that she was of a Heinz 57 variety of mix, but I fell in love with the little bundle of jumping trouble the moment I walked in the room.

I’m sure this is when people say that they picked their dogs because they were shy and sweet, or that they crept up shyly from behind their mothers back, but my little puglette was anything but timid, she run up to us with a joy that only the young and unregulated feel and started climbing up my leg and trying to eat my shoe. I wanted her from that very second. There was no way in the world that I was leaving that house without her, and of course I didn’t, and even now I feel guilty if I have to leave her alone (work gets in the way of this idealism).

I, as those who have read my blog will know, was always much more of a no-commitment kind of person. In fact I was always of the Holly Golightly mindset that me and belonging to anyone or anything did not go hand to hand. Funny how a little dependent with a naughty streak wider than the English Channel has changed all of that. Now I can’t imagine being without her, and know I never will be for all the years that we both draw breathe in the same lifetime.

I completely failed at being the alpha of the pack, and as much as I tried I didn’t quite get the ‘dogs join your family, you don’t join theres’ mentality, maybe because I didn’t have a family, but just lived a solitary, selfish home- life. This has resulted in me and my little friend creating a little makeshift family of our own, one in which we seem to have equal shares in the sofas, bed etc. In fact I am pretty sure that she actually rules the roost and i’m just the follower.

But boy does my little leader know how to make me feel like i’m the most wonderful person in the world. There is something wondrous in being responsible for someone that is not you in day to day life, there is something joyful in being depended on, in knowing that the simplest of acts can bring a gratitude that no human has the capacity to feel. I understand for the first time in my life the saying about a mans best friend, for my little terror, with her cute eyes and demanding ways, with her sense of fun, of play, with her basic simple needs, in her quietness, in her noise has brought to my selfish heart the most amazing of human emotions. I went and feel in complete and utter love with a little furry fawn girl with a soul as old as time.





Musings

12 04 2013

Sitting in my bed on a Friday night eating a box of Thornton’s and smoking cigarettes doesn’t seem very rock n roll, unless you’re one of those people who abhor smoking in bed (don’t care, I sleep alone), the dog is curled up at my feet …and instead of reading heat magazine cover to cover I thought I would attach the keyboard to the iPad and write something, anything.

I’ve had a pretty lousy week, an incident with my car (not my fault), the norovirus (winter vomiting, is that as ironic as daffodils in the snow? I think not!) and my ongoing battle with paying the bills (not possible for me) so tonight I planned on sitting around and feeling sorry for myself.

An ex of mine, who is still a friend, popped around earlier with a ‘care package’ which included wine, chocolates, magazines and flowers – which I thought was a really sweet thing to do and in my weakened state nearly made me want to reach out to him and invite him back into my life. But I’m made of stronger stuff it seems, and I didn’t. Don’t get me wrong that girl I was is still inside of me and a big part of me firmly believes that sharing my bed, and my body would have been a massive stress relief for me right now but my celibacy remains a truth for the time being.

It got me to thinking about relationships and how as my age creeps up I look for so much more.

I’ve always been a bit of a romantic underneath it all, beneath the walls that I built around myself in my brazen years, I hid a lost and lonely girl. The only way to ensure that I didn’t feel vulnerable was to become the cold one, I ran from beds before I was pushed, as if being the first to exit made me the one in control. I balked at deep conversations in the dead of the night, preferring to silence the words with the warmth of a body. That warmth used to keep my own coldness away for a short time, the blackness of my eyes burnt like coal with physical lust but emotionally I stayed distant.

Or maybe I was just emotionally retarded…maybe I still am.

I find it very difficult now, experience has softened my edges, I find now that I want to talk in the dead of the night, but i’ve never met anyone who I feel would listen without judgement and try to understand. The truth is I don’t want a counsellor, I don’t want platitudes or someone to list all that I should be grateful for. I just want to tell someone my story, how I got to be the way I am without them running for the hills with the craziness of it all.

There must be a deep satisfaction to know that someone else in the world knows the complete truth about you, but accepts you anyway, and more than acceptance is willing to listen to your words of despair while the rest of the world sleeps.

I’m rusty I know, my words do not make much sense to me let alone to a passerby.





Forgotten Nights

4 04 2013

Its been such a long time since I have sat down and tried to write. I am not even sure if I still have the ability to make my words mean anything to anyone but me. I feel like the forgotten girl has forgotten herself, I don’t know who I am anymore.

I am back settled in the UK, three years almost, I have stayed put, I have not run. Its been difficult, I forgot how much the everyday problems that just come with trying to get by over here take up your time. Sometimes I feel like this is half a life but then I have to remind myself that this is real life – this is how life is when you don’t take to the pavement every-time things get rough.

I have a little shoebox flat, just me and the dog. I’ve curbed my promiscuity but I still cannot maintain a relationship even if its all I crave now. I want the normality, I want a family, I want to belong. I’ll be 32 in a couple of months, I danced and drank and destroyed my previous years and I find myself standing before the mirror now and spying the cracks in my face caused by the hedonism, constant cigarette smoking and my weather beaten years, I spy the odd grey hair trying to show itself under the red dye. I see a woman who has experienced so much, seen such vast things but ultimately has come full circle and still stands alone.

I have lost so much, gained so much more. I have evolved into a person who has been jaded, lost, found, the destroyed and the destroyer, a woman who has stood ten feet tall but has also felt the gravel scratch her cheek.

I rarely touch alcohol, prefer the simple life, walking the dog, reading a lot, my words always so harsh in a world full of gentle fake folk have been (for the most part) quietened. I can listen now, I can breathe. I still have that demon temper, those black eyes but a huge part of me is subdued, I am learning to pick and chose my battles.

There does not seem to be any purpose to this post. But I am here. Always I am here.