Mum

There's so much going through my head right now.

Most of it's music, so this post is packed with it - sorry...

The main song stuck in my head is the song mum told me to play at her funeral, I Hope You Dance...

It's what mum always wanted for me, for all of us, to always hope and reach and try... and I know it's not what I always did or do... which hurts.

From the moment my sister blubbered out the news of her death, with my dad and brother stood there holding me, I've been swinging between numbness, despair, disbelief and some form of acceptance. It's the songs that keep getting stuck in my head that bring the tears back 

So many people have been sending condolences and offering help, or a shoulder to cry on... but it's my family that's the biggest strength atm. As horrifying as it sounds, I'm just so glad it wasn't dad instead. Mum's emotions would have made it virtually impossible to deal with loosing dad - not to mention I'm a right daddy's little girl. Still, it's a small comfort.

The shock of it is what's upsetting me the most. The fact that she had been in so much physical pain for so long, and that she was getting better. The injections of collagen had helped with her pain levels and mobility no end, she was able to walk - even dance... though I missed her dancing because of not being able to book a hotel for the party...

Mostly, I'm hurting for my dad. Mum was his soul mate - or that's what he always told me... it was there in how he looked at her, how he spoke of her, how he looked after her... at 50 he's too young to have that ripped away. I mean, when my brother in-law committed suicide it was horrific for my sister... but he hadn't been a good husband, not in the supportive way that mum and dad were for each other. I know they got on each others nerves at times, but through everything they stood together.
25 years of love, plans, togetherness... just gone in the middle of the night... when there was no reason we knew of.

Sudden Catastrophic Heart Failure

Now we just wade through lists of people to contact, paperwork to fill in, meetings to have, things to organise. The wake, the funeral... then all of the stuff that needs sorting out besides that. And all the time trying not to hurt. 

Mum always said that the love between a parent and child was one that grew towards parting... and in a way she was right. But I wasn't ready - none of us were. There were supposed to be years yet. She was supposed to be at my wedding. She was supposed to hold my first child - if not all of them. She was supposed to tell me I was doing everything wrong when I became a mum. She was supposed to hold me when my heart broke. Cry at my graduation. Try to take over when I moved house. Instead she isn't even here for Christmas. 

I know that, when anyone dies, you wish you'd had just that bit more time with them. That you could have had more... that it's normal. But it doesn't make it easier. 

There are times when you just want to scream and cry because it isn't fair. To have your grandparents out live your brother and your mum... it's wrong some how. And there are times that I'm so mad at her for leaving. For leaving without saying goodbye. Which I know is stupid, because it would have been even more of a surprise for her than it was for any of us.

Part of me is wishing I could believe there was more. A heaven where she's looking down on me... or some weird spirit thing where she's still here in some way. But it's not in me to believe. I don't know if it's harder or easier to feel that she's just gone...

There's a speech to write for the funeral... and I don't know what to say.

"I miss you" isn't enough... and everything else I could say is far too long. That she wasn't a saint, but she tried (well, most of the time). That she was a great mum, even if she was a batty old cow that repeated herself and was sometimes far too harsh. That she was the perfect counter part to dad. That she wouldn't want us to be sad

There's these rings that she always wore, and dad split them between us... and even though I'm not a ring person, and they don't really fit, I tend to wear mine almost every day. 

Life is on hold for now... and I don't know why. Well, I do... it's just... it feels like it shouldn't be. I loose days (if not weeks) at a time lately. I just don't know what happens to time, it's just gone. I suppose that's it isn't it? Time has gone, or stopped working. 

Dad turned to me the other day after waking on the sofa and sighed out "It wasn't a dream then?" - it's hard to know he's feeling that way, same as us, hard to know he's human and hurting.

A week or so ago I asked what he wanted to do and he simply said "Find a way to go back 48 hours..."

But there's nothing I can do... nothing any of us can do... nothing but carry on. Keep going. Death is like that...

Christmas is going to be shit though

I love you mum

What kind of world is it when people like you are ready to kill?

The final question of the interview, and I think of what I know of the character I part play, part parody, part ignore completely. 

I have no emotional connection to Ulrike, even after the intimate voice has told me all about her - my - life. How my -her- parents died. How she loved her children. How I screamed and fought the police when they arrested me. How I struggled and cried out, lifting her feet, during my identity parade. 

This is not me, and I'm torn between her reply and mine. The fracture probably obvious throughout the interrogation - sorry, interview. Because, even though I understand her, and know now where her actions first became thoughts, I still don't connect with her. Because they weren't my choices - and they weren't how I would have reacted. 

My anger may burn hard, and normally result in my fist or foot in someone's softer area's - but when challenged I go cold. Icy venom pours from me, rather than screaming fits, and curses. I don't argue like that. No - too many hours spent with too logical a father to argue like that. At least, not about this.

"What kind of world is it when people like you are ready to kill?"

It's supposed to make me think. It's supposed to make me question what my morals are; but instead a stream of answers run through my head and I have to hold them back.

A real one.
A safe one.
One where I won't be messed with.
One where I can protect what's mine.
The one outside these walls where everyone is secretly ready to kill. 
It's the kind of world where choices are everything.
One where change is imminent.
It doesn't matter either way, because it's the fact I choose not to that makes me who I am. 

But then I drift out and remember that I'm not there. I'm not part of the art project, I'm just reading about it. Hell, it took place in Venice - I've never left England. 
So what is it about this 'Moral hazard' crap that's got me so sucked in?


A tram looses control and rolls down its tracks. In its path are five people. You have the choice to pull a lever and switch the tram to a second track - but there's someone tied to it. Do you sacrifice the one person to save the five?

Well, personally, no. 
Why? Not because I'm a heartless bitch who couldn't care less if five people died. Not because I'm a wimp who's afraid to make the decision. But because I see a huge error with the wording of this problem:
Why point out that the one person is tied to the tracks, but not say the same about the other five? It's simple to assume this means the other five are not tied down. Therefore, they can get out of the way. The person tied down can't. Who in there right mind takes away one persons choice just to make five other peoples lives easier??
Answer: 90% of the GEDC's in the world. Yeah, that's right - 90% of people living in a non-poverty stricken country do this every day. They take away the rights of the poverty stricken who have no choice to make life easier for those with money. Sweat shops, non-fair trade, and the millions of other ways we exploit people in "third world" countries. 

You know what? The reality of moral judgement is actually this:
A tram looses control and rolls down its tracks. In its path is a person collapsed on the rails from exhaustion. There's a switch in the track that allows you to aim the tram at 5 people meandering over the tracks instead. Over that switch stands a business man, his lawyer, and his insurance broker, who decided that a dead person can't sue them for endangering their life - but five people who might get injured will probably win in court. And it doesn't matter how hard you push through the guards they have set up around them, you can't get to that switch, and you can't get the business man to change his mind. All you can do is try to race towards the collapsed person and drag them off the tracks. Are you willing to risk death to pull a complete stranger out of harms way?

No?

Welcome to the real world - where politics and morality turn into who has more power and who's too scared to risk it. After all, if you die trying to save them, you can't tell people how mean the business man was. 

Our lives are so wrapped up in fear and miss direction that the terrorist issue is a kick back at - like a child kicking their parents when they see that they aren't as wonderful as they'd always thought. Society takes the parental role, punishes the naughty child for attacking Mummy or Daddy, and looks to everyone else for support. After all, politicians know best. 

So how do you get to punish society for its wrong doings?
Simple, you show the world how bad they've been. 
->Insert some graphic photo of people thousands of miles away dying and expect someone to care.

You can't expect the general public to take responsibility for the 'crimes' of society - and you can't expect the people who are in the position of power to give a crap. How do you think they got there in the first place?
Everyone knows you have to step on the down trodden to get to the upper echelons of power and authority. That's what the pyramid on your money is all about, remember?

So what can you actually do?
Sit and get angry, write something, complain about how the world is corrupt and there's nothing you can do about it...?
No, it doesn't help - but can you think of anything better? Anything that would actually work??

The world's gone mad. 

People complaining about invasion of privacy. Of technology taking over their lives. Of not being able to get any peace without someone interrupting it.

Are we actually that blind?
Are we actually that stupid?

HELLO!!! IT'S CALLED AN OFF BUTTON!!!

You don't want people to know everything that's going on in your life? Don't post it all on Facebook!!
You don't want to be called all the time, or text constantly? Turn off your phone!
You think there's no way to live without technology in this day and age? Get a freaking brain already.

Technology is here to help. It's not here to take over. It's not here to invade your privacy. It's not here so you become dependant on it so that the government or whoever has another control over you!
It's just an AID!! (not to be mistaken with the other one that has an s on the end of course)
You choose how far you integrate it into your life on a daily basis. 
Exercise some self restraint for goodness sake!

And if you're one of those people who doesn't feel the need to answer ever phone call, and every text, and every facebook notification that you've set to come through to your smartphone, and every game notification that pops up on your tablet pc; if you don't feel the need to update your facebook status with whatever inanety has just popped into your head every hour or so, if you don't feel you have to check other peoples status's constantly, if you don't have to check your twitter account regularly, or your emails, or your MMORPG, or your Ebay... then please ignore my rant, as I'm sure you already have thought of this and can exercise perfect restraint.

Honestly, if I have to hear someone complain again about another person updating their status too much, I'm going to write a status on a piece of paper and forcefully insert it into their cranium. And that status will be "If you dislike it so much - stop reading them!!"


And now, I believe, my rant is winding down nicely and coming to an abrupt end.

If you want to know about the art project, check out the link Ulrike and Eamon Compliant 


As always, I wish you well in all your endeavours.


Blessed Be
xxx

Marks of weakness, Marks of woe

You know when people say something - something and nothing, a throw away comment - and it sticks with you just because of how it made you feel? Recently someone told me to "Stop whining" because I was wishing my room would sort itself out.

Now, to explain the context that this person didn't understand:
My room is currently upside down. We decided to move things around to try and make it more livable, more accessible, more... well, more manageable. However, with there being two peoples stuff filling a small bedroom - that isn't easy to start with. In fact, even if I'd worked straight through and not had to stop it would have taken at least two days to finish. 

So, my room is currently just about working - there's still a huge pile in the majority of the room that's left to be sorted out when I have time, but I can finally get in and out of the room, use the bed, and actually use the desk to do some of the work I'm woefully behind on. At the point of writing that I wanted my room to sort itself out there wasn't even room to get on the bed. 

Why didn't it all get done in two days?
Well, because the other person who's room it is was working earlies... but got sent home ill, so needed the bed (which was piled up ridiculously high with things that needed to be organised into boxes and either stored back away or thrown out) so everything  got dumped on the floor. Two days later he was well enough to go back to work, but came home early again because the entire place had to be shut down (well, in a nut shell at least). So nothing got done for a good three or four days. That's four days of not being able to do anything in my room - which is the only place I can actually do any work. 

Hence, the next day, once my he'd gone off to work, the plan was to finish as much of the bedroom as possible, and finally get on with work again. I'd lost about a week at this point, and was just wanting to get on with it. Hence, in frustration I wrote what I did. 

To then be told to stop whining was just fucking irritating. 

So irritating it still makes me swear apparently!

I think, mostly, because the tone I had written in was purposefully up beat. And since then I've been stewing. Of course, at the time I did the sensible thing and ignored it; but after a day I got even more mad and started thinking up things I'd have liked to have said (but didn't really want to cause any hassle by doing so) - things like "That wasn't whining, it was barely even complaining - lets take a look at everything you ever say and see who's the whiny little bitch, shall we?" 

But more recently the tone has changed in my head. Because I'm not just mad at them for saying it, I'm mad at them for never talking to me and not knowing me, but judging me because they can. That person doesn't know what the hell I go through, or have been through, mentally/emotionally let alone physically - yet they're willing to have a dig at me in public? 

So the comment in my head turned to "Gee, thanks for helping with my severe clinical depression there...", but the reply (now too late to bother with anyway) would have just elicited derision at claiming to have depression - along with some kind of "cheer up emo kid" type of dismissal.

Which is what prompted me to post this actually.

The sweeping generalisations people make about depression when they have no idea what so ever what they're talking about. I was diagnosed as having severe clinical depression 6 years ago when I was 17. I hadn't felt any differently about life or myself since I was 13, so it's pretty safe to say I've been suffering from it for 10 years. I tried the treatments, and the counselling, and a bunch of other stuff which all managed to make me more suicidal than just dealing with it on my own. I'm not the sort of person it works for apparently. Something about being able to work out what my core problems are, how to deal with them, and so forth faster than my therapist could just made it seem redundant - and the pills, well, lets just say I'm never touching those again!

So I know a fair bit about what it's like to live with depression every day. 

I know a lot of people who have it too. There are some who make a big deal out of it (like a certain someone I happen to know had 'mild' depression who used it as an excuse to never do their course work and got themselves kicked out of university) others who self harm repeatedly because of it, some that take recreational drugs to deal with it - and some that just plain take it out on everyone else. I've also lost some people because of it.

Therefore, from an insiders view, let me tell you:
Depression is NOT when you feel a bit rubbish.

It's NOT a cry for attention.

It also does NOT mean that a person will self harm or attempt suicide.

It ISN'T a weakness.

and it certainly isn't something you can understand if you've always been an upbeat kind of person with no real issues.

It's a mental illness, yes. And it occurs in at least a third of the population of the world. More people who are intelligent get it than those who aren't. It can be a fore runner to other mental health issues such as psychosis, schizophrenia, or paranoia - in fact, most people with depression have a mild (to severe) form of paranoia anyway. 

But put it this way...

Depression is when every day is a struggle, and a day where you don't have to spend five or more minutes convincing yourself to get out of bed and face the world is a damn good day. A bad day is one where you just can't get out of bed, and even consider forfeiting urination just so you don't have to move away from the imaginary sanctuary your quilt offers you. Those are the days where you force yourself to sleep again and again just to escape reality for a little longer.

Depression is when your brain wont let you see that everything that goes wrong in your life - and anyone's life you're connected to - isn't actually all your fault. When you feel like you have to apologise for everything - including the weather. When nothing you do seems good enough, or worth a damn thing - but you keep trying anyway. When all that little conscious of yours will say to you is "You're useless. Just give up. What are you still bothering for anyway? Everyone hates you. You aren't worth their time."

Depression is when you have to either walk away from the kitchen, or concentrate damn hard on the vegetables you're preparing, because that knife only looks right in your hand when it's pointed at you. 

Depression is where you spend a majority of your life trying to convince yourself that things are actually worth while. That YOU are actually worth the energy. 

Some days are always worse than others, and there are always certain people you feel you have to hide it from. Sometimes it feels like you're breaking down inside and nothing will keep you from falling apart. Sometimes it feels like there's no point going on.

Other days you can be fine. Absolutely normal. Pessimistic, but not too much so. 

It's like arthritis - sometimes it'll flair up really badly, most days it's about manageable, and some days you don't even notice it. 

Most people who have depression and deal with it on a day to day basis hide it so well you wouldn't even notice.

For instance, mine has it's own lovely brand of social anxiety that comes with it - for me that basically means that I get claustrophobic around people, especially large crowds. But I deal with it by going to the toilet when it gets bad, or standing outside on my own for a few minutes. I would take up smoking for an excuse, but I just can't stand the idea of purposefully inhaling smoke... so I guess that's out of the question!

It's something I try not to make a big deal out of, and my friends are all used to that little quirk. "Oh, Lauren likes to go outside on her own." or "She just spends a lot of time in the bathroom - I assumed she was doing a number 2"...

But occasionally you have to explain; and when you do people are so shocked. 

"But you're so fun and outgoing!"

... yes, because everyone with depression dyes their hair black, wears excessive eye make-up, listens to doom metal and is completely unsociable... 

For me, being strong means not crying when everything feels like it's going wrong (and probably isn't). It's being terrified of leaving the house - but doing it anyway. For me, being strong is constantly trying to get on with life - even is there's a part of me that wants to give up forever. For me, and I think for anyone with depression, being strong is not letting the set backs knock you so far back that you can't face life any more (again). 

And yes, every day is a fight. 

Mental health problems don't just disappear, and there's no cure for long-term severe clinical depression. Post-natal depression is treatable because it's a partial hormone imbalance, and they put you on huge doses of anti-depressants to help you in those times.

People think that's because it's worse than normally occurring depression - but it isn't. It's because that mother doesn't have to be on it for long. It's a temporary measure. Someone with clinical depression has it for years (if they're lucky). You can't force that kind of chemical into someone's system for that long in those high a dose because you'd kill them. 

I guess I've given an odd impression at times, because I'm so used to how I am. On good days, if I end up talking about it with people I can be very light about it - as if talking about wanting to buy a shiny new toy rather than about wanting to die... but that's tough. Just because I accept who I am doesn't mean it isn't still hard. 

Sure, the acceptance helps you deal with it - and I will never put that down! Accepting anything that people say is "wrong" with you, just knowing in your heart it's a part of who you are, is the biggest step. I don't care if it's the first or last - it's the one that makes the biggest difference. If, after accepting it, you still don't like it, then you can start to do something about it, but trying to change before that is denying who you are and is at least ten times harder.

I think I've rambled on long enough now. Hopefully I'll be able to leave the throw away comment alone now and stop revisiting it. Or at least stop being so pissed about it.

As always, may the Goddess (or God, or Allah, or Buddha, or anyone else you're happy with) light your path, give you strength, and protect you (especially from yourself)

Blessed be

xxx 

Rediscovering Old Discoveries

Hello again world! 


Where have I been? No where really, just indisposed.


So I thought I'd write a new blog post and update you all on the wonderful intricacies of my life. 


...


Well! That was exciting!!


Okay, so there are no "wonderful intricacies", but life has been evolving around me. I would negate the 'around me', but I hardly feel that I'm evolving with it. Look at me, still laid in bed after a shower, blogging  pretending to do work,  instead of doing my essay...   at the same time as writing my extended essay! Honest!.. well I've got my notes document open and my book ready to copy the highlighted quotes out of... what more do you want expect from me?
But there's a lot that's changed.


Last academic year was my final year as a BA (hons) student. I passed (somehow) and have my degree. But now, thanks (mostly) to my Granddad loaning me the tuition, I'm back at the same uni studying for my MA...
Also, last year I left good old Leicester to come 'visit' my parents while I was between accommodation... and I'm still kind of 'visiting' them 6 months down the line. My boyfriend is too. Stuff kicked off with his (from the sounds of it, slightly psychotic) ex girlfriend when they broke up - and apparently him getting with me straight away didn't help things. So my parents (being sweet, helpful and occasionally naive) offered him a place here. Again, that was about 6 months ago. 


To cap it all off, the part time work I had at the beginning of my time here turned into a nightmare in only a couple of months, and ended up leaving after my ankles decided enough was enough and took me on a jolly ride to the hospital a few times in a week. Good fun... but of course, even though I was only getting 10 or so hours a week, without that income we were slightly screwed. 


You'd think "No problem, just get a different job. Heck, get your boyfriend to get one too!"... we thought that too. Apparently being tall and having longish hair in a small place like my home town makes you virtually unemployable. And, oh yeah, if you want to do anything other than bar work as part time work - forget it.
We were about at our wits end at the beginning of the month. That includes my parents - who have hardly any money as it is - and my granddad who keeps wanting to see me back at uni working constantly. 


BUT - two days ago someone finally gave my boyfriend a chance! 
He got sick of hearing nothing from the places he applied for, so decided to go back around all the agencies (same as he had when he first realised he'd be staying here) - and what do you know? The first one he went to gave him an induction the very next week!
Why they couldn't have done so 6 months ago when he first applied I don't frigging well know, but hey ho, at least he's got something now.


So here I am, alone in bed (for the first time in forever) while he's off working his second night shift in a chicken factory. It's not glamorous, but it's better than nothing.


And I suddenly have time and space for myself! Something I've not really been able to get lately. When you both practically live out of a bedroom you can barely fit all of one persons stuff in, let alone two, things get kind of cramped - but you get to spend loads of time together. 
Now I have the bedroom to myself and it feels actually quite big! Though that could have something to do with the fact I got bored last night while he was gone and cleared and tided practically everything away whilst waiting for him to come home.
So I have time to think, and stretch, and blog!


Not to mention I can also do my work in peace, away from everyone. Before I could be away from everyone but him, now I'm actually alone and don't get distracted as easily (ignoring this blog that is - come on! It was an urge that needed to be filled okay?), and don't have to worry that someone thinks I'm ignoring them, or just not interested in what they're doing. It's really freeing. 
<gross-ness alert>
I can even fart without worrying I'll make someone's eyes water!


The temptation jut then to use 'fart' as a label for this post... so... hard... to resist...!


I feel like I'm rediscovering all these things about myself that I'd pushed to the back of my mind, or to the bottom of my 'do-able' list (not to be confused with a 'to do' list - and for those readers with dirty minds (like me) NOT LIKE THAT). Like writing a diary, or posting a blog, creative writing, reading even! Stuff that you do in your own little bubble, I guess. Stuff that you use as an escape from everything and everyone around you. I haven't drawn or painted in months, the closest I've come to that is some half-hearted scraper foils I would work away at for a few minutes at a time. That's a point - I never did finish those...


I guess that's why I said that it seems as though life has evolved around me, kind of without me. You know when you look at everything, and can see why it's happened or changed, and how, and remember what you were thinking when it did..? Don't you ever look at yourself afterwards and think "Take that little bit away though and I'm just the same"? 
You take my boyfriend out of the equation and I'm practically identical to the single girl a year ago "studying" for my finals. Okay, that implies I actually studied... my last year was so not about studying...
But you get the picture.


The other major change has been that my bestest best friend in the whole wide world has gotten into a (pretty serious) relationship. It's the first time since we've known each other that he's had a partner. That's a big difference I guess, not to mention the fact that we don't get to see each other very often at all. The distance keeps trying to mount up between us, which is kinda strange, because it's not working very well. Loads of my friends - especially from uni, or school - get a little bit of distance from me and we stop talking, we stop trying to spend time together... Suppose that's the difference between friends and bestest best friends?


Wow, don't I sound like a child? "Bestest"? a test for Bes? Interesting - according to my spelling checker 'bes' is a word... ah, but google explains all. Bes is a proper noun, or an acronym, so... kind of not a real word - unless you're being tested on the God Bes... or testing the BlackBerry Enterprise Server...
Or is it the best "est"? again, mostly acronym based definitions... 
I guess we say it as a way of increasing the power of the word 'best'. Like when a child say's "worser" because they understand "er" as the way the word increases in strength from "big" to "bigger" hence "biggerer" or "biggererer" and so forth. On the other hand, something that is "best" has the letters "est" added ("fastest", "biggest", "strongest", "loudest"), hence to have the 'best of the best' is to have the bestest. 
Incorrect, but still interesting how our logic mixes with our phonetics at a young age and can continue to be of influence on our unconscious mind.


I guess I shouldn't be blogging right now. I have to be awake around 12pm to do a first aid training course... and I'll probably be woken up at 6/7am when my baby boy (yeah, I'm soppy and call him that) leaves work/gets home. I should probably catch as much sleep as I can as often as I can... but I was silly and took a shower to wake myself up to do some work, and then got bored of N.K.Hayles and decided to ramble on about nothing.


She has this really odd idea of what literature in the digital age should be / is. She calls it the 'literary'... and it's basically art that inclines itself to literate based thinking/reading/understanding. I agree with her that literature should be that which is non-explicit, i.e. something that makes you think, or fill in the gaps, or give an impression instead of the picture. Literature is all impressionist - otherwise it gets boring. Note to Ms Hayles - you're not very 'impressionistic'... 
I think I agree with the idea of it being "Literature" if it requires more thought... not even that, if it leads you to a conclusion without then spelling out said conclusion I'd class it as literature, not just writing. 


Like... good example!... if you're reading a murder mystery and it gives you the clues along the way, then describes what the characters do with those clues - that's on its way to literature; where as if it takes each clue, gives you time to work them out, then tells you what it meant... that's just writing. 
Good writing keeps your attention. Great writing makes you think too. 
A book that you "can't put down" is something we call "a page turner". They keep you in the text (normally) by leaving you in suspense at the end of the page, then gratifying your need for a conclusion at the top of the next whilst building another set of suspense for you to have at the bottom of it. That's an exaggeration of course, but something that makes you want to read it by you wanting to know what happens is only good writing. Something that you put down and come back to for the writing style as well as the story, something you read passages back to yourself in, or read aloud passages to others in order to splendour in the way it's been stated - that's great writing. 


There are millions of books out there that hover in between these definitions, and it comes down to preference, study, and understanding to personally decide on which group they belong to. 
I'm not saying good writing isn't as worthwhile. On the contrary, I often prefer a good book to a great one if I want to read in a cathartic way. Great books are only to be attempted when you're in the right mood - which is a slight disadvantage for them I suppose. 


I think the thing that distinguishes a good writer from a good story is an easier boundary to pick. A well written book is one that you'll turn to again and again, and the words will just melt away before you, giving way to the story you love. A good story is one that engrossed you the first time you read it, but on second reading isn't as enjoyable because you know the story and it either takes to long to build up to the action you remember and enjoyed, or silly little phrases pop out at you making you think "I wouldn't have said it like that..." or "that's a bit of a clumsy way of saying it..." which interrupts your flow.


Then you have the really bad writers for whom you have the above problem with on a first reading. 
For those writers I have one suggestion: PROOFREADERS!!
I know they're expensive, but they can increase your chances of sounding right/good so much!


I'd love to be a proof reader... but I've no idea if I'd be any good at it or not! 
I think that'd be funny. "Yes, I can proof read this for you and make changes that will improve it!" ... 10 hours later it's sent back with more spelling mistakes and isn't as well written as it was to start with... or doesn't convey the same story idea... or something rubbish like that.
As long as they didn't do what my friends did once. They were all in a computer lab together at college, and one guy went to the toilet (for a bit too long), and while he was gone they changed (and saved) his document so that every "it" was an "and" instead. Genius. They thought - ah well, he'll just come back, realise the issue and change all the "and"'s back to "it"'s... oh wait, were there and's in the sentences beforehand? Oh... as many as there were it's you say? Oooh...
18 pages he had to go through and change, one at a time, any 'and' that should be an 'it' back... hours and hours of work since he was dyslexic. 


Well, could have been worse... they could have done it to several words.


Oh wait, that was the second time they got him with the trick.


At least that time they didn't save the document first. Of course, they probably should have told him that... since he didn't check and tried to change them all back by hand... like last time... where as he could have just used "ctrl+z" a few times. Oh well - in there words: "Well it's his fault he saved it half way through and didn't try undo first!"... right...
Yeah, I tried to explain that it wasn't funny after they let him save it... but hey, apparently it was.


Shall point out that I wasn't there at the time and couldn't stop them - just to clear that up.


Anyway - that's far too many tangents for one post, so I'm going to blog-off (instead of log-off...? or bog-off I guess too...) 


I hope you've not self-destructed since we last had some form of... one way communication... and that life hasn't evolved too snap-dragon-ish around you either.
Try to stay positive even if things aren't going how you want. Life changes, and so do people, so will you (eventually); and if you're waiting on the world to change, try getting up and making it. Even if it doesn't work, at least it a) takes your mind off it a little and/or b) gives you a better right to complain about it...


Good luck in all your endeavours, my digitally composed friends!




Blessed Be xx