Return of the Slack.

I think this is my third post know where I've started off by apologising to my non existent readers for being so slack. I cant even discipline myself enough to write a little something every day. Well you know what? Fuck you.
As if you care anyway whether I've written or not. As if the incoherent ramblings that I come up with on a scarily regular basis mean anything to you other than a reason to imperceptibly tut. As if anyone realises that what I'm saying drowning, not waving.
I mean, thats my role in life isnt it? To be the one that everyone can make fun of, to be the one that people invite to parties because I'm loud and strangers can gel over my lack of social graces. I'm a human icebreaker - just add alcohol.

I begrudgingly admit - this is a role that i play well. And for a while, I revelled in such a role. It afforded me a notoriety that was amusing for a time.

But people can often grow too familiar and it can be offensive and hurtful sometimes. The trouble is, I cant deny any of it.

If you are reading this with a growing sense of alarm and recognition, I salute you sister. Its tough being the butt of everyone's joke.

If you accuse me of being a party animal who doesnt know when to say no, that's me.

If you accuse me of being frivolous with money and not having a safe financial status at any given moment, thats me.

If you accuse me of being lackadaisial about my friends and the effort thats put in to see each pther, thats me.

If you accuse me of being something of a procrastinator, thats me, tomorrow.

If you accuse me of being promiscuous and a little relaxed with my sexual graces, that's me.

But when you call me a drunken whore with little or no morals - why are you so surprised that I might be offended by that?

Sure, we put on a brave face, and laugh it off with everyone else. But take the time to notice that after that, the glass may tremble a little as we lift it to our lips. We may take a few more sips than is necessary, so we dont have to make conversation for a few precious seconds. If we do have to say something, our voice may catch slightly in our throats. And then the bravado kicks in. Because what can we say to defend ourselves?

I was just being me. And this weekend, I was crucified for being me. It kind of makes me not want to be me anymore.

Good luck in life and love,

Honey xxx

Is There A Panic Button?

I've been reading back on some of my posts and wow, have I been down lately. I'm talking like earthworm down, plant root down, so far down I have to look up to see the down.
And I suppose you would think its no coincidence that this happened in the fallout about a boy.

I'm begrudgingly conceding that it may have been a catalyst. No, not even a catalyst, more like a straw that was already added to the flailing camels back. A camel who has brought upon itself masses and masses of negative straws until finally this camel thought "fuck it" decided to shake itself off and take a step back and survey what the hell was riding on its back.

I've fucked up somewhere along the way. I know exactly where but i cant even fucking bring myself to admit it to myself. I can only think about how to fix it and how much of a relief it will be when its fixed, but that little voice inside tells me that something this sacred should never ever ever have been broken in the first place. I couldn't ever tell anyone what I've done.

I think thats part of the problem. This shame, this gut wrenchingly affront against someone I love dearly, stays with me until I die. No amount of good deeds, no matter if i dedicate my entire life to the needy, the poor, the dying, I will never be able to make up what i have done.

I may as well go out and dropkick a newborn kitten into an orphans face, I am that despicable.

This is worse than stealing from someone. This is worse than sleeping with someone's husband or boyfriend. This is worse than breaking the law. This is worse than death. Can you imagine how black someone's heart has to be to be worse then death? This is mine.

I wish there was a panic button on life. Where I could be faced with this dilemma again and hit that red button - take some time to think of the absolute immensity of the situation I was about to enter into and walk away from it. Instead I panicked and did what I did.

I'm not sure why I did what I did, other than due to panic. No one else I know would ever have done anything like this - If I knew they were capable of such a deed, I don't think I would want them in my life.

If I can't ever imagine being forgiven for this, how can I ever hope that others will forgive me?

So here I stay, in my own malcontent state, hoping that one day I will be in a position to fix this as much as I can, and hoping that no one will ever look past my phony exterior and see the blackest of hearts that feebly beats inside.

And while this heart exists, who am I to question whether or not I can be loved, as I love in return?

Of course he didn't write back...for who could care for one who cared so little for her own?

Why So Blue?

Ever get into one of those modes where you are so discontent with your life that the only thing to do is to rehash everything over in your mind again and again, in the vain hopes you can pinpoint where it all went wrong?
Well the only answer I can come up with is the fact that I grew up.
I've lost my innocence. I've lost my enthusiasm for life. I've lost my mojo.
I think this is why, lately, I've musically travelled back in time, seeking out those bands that I listened to in high school, before when I had no idea of what the world would become to me. All the oldies that touch me just as much now as they did 5, 10, 15 years ago.
When I listen to these tracks I dont have to worry about my life. I dont have to think about what went wrong, because nothing was wrong. I didn't struggle to get out of bed each day because I was happy for my day to start.
When did I become so jaded?
I think soon enough I will regret posting this particular blog entry. But at the same time, I recognise the benefits of being completely honest with myself, and I may be grateful, in years to come...when things get better.
It frightens me sometimes, this violent spiral from joy to sadness and back again. It saddens me that I don't have that vim that I see other people do. It confuses me when I look at the same things as someone, and they can see beauty where all I can see is ugliness.
No wonder I'm alone. Why bother taking a long hard look in the mirror - when I already know I wont like what I see? Why would I want to rub it in?
I have a secret. A horrible, shameful secret that Im too scared to tell anyone, even my closest friends. I cant bear to form the words, I don't think I would be physically able to. My insides shrink a little more when I force myself to think about what I did, and the reasons why I did it. I am so ashamed that I feel like I could literally die.
I honestly believe this secret is manifesting itself in my body into sickness, like a malignant tumor, or a cancer. You know those feelings that are so strong, they form a shape? Mine is becoming so real, its almost as plain as the nose on my face. My aura fades a little more each day the longer that it goes on. I can try to fix this. I can try and make it right, and then pretend it never happened for the rest of my life. If I act quickly enough, they wont know. They need not ever know.
But I will know.
And I'm not sure how long I can hide from my own judgement.

Good luck in life and love,

Honey xoxo

Falling....and other random ramblings.

Each point here could have been dissected enough to have its own post. However I feel like my mind is a wastepaper bin....full of ideas and rubbish. I can stick my hand in and pull something out - but it wont necessarily be entertaining or even correct. What it will be though, is from my head, and you can't argue that it will be coherent or boring.

Enjoy my madness.

Ive fallen out out taxis
Ive fallen out of windows too
But the hardest Ive ever fallen
Is when i fell in love with you

You make my heart heavy and sink
The way a ship in a storm rolls
I drag my teeth across your wrist
So I can taste your pulse


Is this not the age of renewed schizophrenia? Where we bite the hand that feeds us, and then sues it for emotional stress? Where we venture out to the very tip of the branch, only to pull out a saw and cut it away.

If I were to sum up how I felt about you now, all I need to say is I love you more than being seventeen.

The other day someone accused me of being boy crazy. I didnt tell them about this blog.

I wonder if anyone has noticed my conscientious effort to avoid using exclamation marks. I find them slightly vulgar and unnecessary. If you have the right words, you can impart any sort of emotion without having to resort to such punctuational sluttiness.

I wish I knew what people thought as soon as they saw me. I wish I could be in their minds and immediately know whether they thought I was ugly or pretty. Whether they liked my outfit or immediately wanted to set fire to their eyeballs for even looking at it. Whether they hated my hair, eyes, smile...Its not fair to have such a power though. Everyone should have that slight moment of worry when meeting someone new. It keeps the world fair. Its natural selection, in a way. It picks out those who are going to die old, fat and lonely. Im sure thats what Darwin meant anyway.

Good luck in life and love

Honey xxx

New Year Already?

I'm determined to make my 28th year on this planet my best ever.

I mean, I havent done so well with the past 27 years. You would think I havent set the standard very high.
I havent written the best selling novel I know is in my head.
I havent met the love of my life. Or if I have, then I have failed to recognise him.
I never finished my university degree.
I have never managed to stay at a job for more than 4 years.
I have never been happy with my body or my face.
I still live in my childhood home.
I believe I will always have trouble telling the difference between left and right.
I don't think that any new pet could replace my beloved departed cat Sebastian.
I never thought that I would lose my mum so young.
I ignore my finances because Im too scared to face up to what is actually going on.

I plan to completely turn my life around by the time I am 29.

Slowly but surely my life is falling into place. I still feel like I haven't fully grown into my skin - I'm not comfortable with who I am at the moment. They say you can tell how a person really is when they are by themselves in a public arena. Waiting for the train, in an appointment room, sat alone in a cafe. I know I look wary, I fidget a lot. I feel vulnerable without sunglasses, ipod, book, drink, something, anything so I don't have to think about what other people may be thinking of me.

Thats how we are programmed though, isn't it? When we catch someone looking at us, don't we immediately wonder if there is something in our teeth, if our hair is out of place, if our skirt is tucked into our knickers? Don't we? Don't you? Don't you??

Ok, ok, I'm well aware that not everybody has the astronomical amount of hangs ups about themselves as I do. But atleast I am aware of that awareness and so if you want to confront me about my hang ups you are going to have to put up a bloody good fight, mister. However, I digress.

So I turn 28 in a few weeks. I've already set the wheels into motion - Im exercising regularly, eating well, cutting out beer and carbs, getting more sleep than I usually do. I'm working hard at work, I'm about to move into a cityside apartment, and I'm weeks away from a poolside holiday overseas. I've taken giants leaps and bounds in getting over my ex, I've messaged a boy I like and even if he doesnt like me back, atleast I will have tried. I've tried.

You know, apparently it only takes seven years for your body to completely regenerate, and not a single cell or organism that was there before will remain. You literally become a whole new person. Well I dont have seven years. I'm going to do it in one.

Reincarnation aside, if this is the one shot we get at life, I am very rapidly learning that I have to make it count.

But I would gladly go down in a flame if a flame is what it takes to remember my name - John Mayer.

Good luck in life and love,

Honey xoxo

Do The Limbo Rock

Every limbo boy and girl
All around the limbo world
Gonna do the limbo rock
All around the limbo clock
(Chubby Checker)

So every boy and girl goes through this dance at one stage or another. We duck and weave around the mutual attraction that lies unspoken in the air and the longer it goes on, the lower and lower the bar gets...until you find yourself virtually horizontal. Sometimes literally horizontal.

Get yourself a limbo girl
Give that chick a limbo whirl
There's a limbo moon above
You will fall in limbo love.

Now there's a term that frankly should be used more often - limbo love. Is it not perfect for describing that feeling of elation you have when all of your best laid plans bloom into fruition? All of your wavering eye contact, your careful placement of limbs that just might accidentally brush up against each other and then finally, finally, that first kiss.

The first kiss, to me, has always been so sweetly awkward. And well it should be - its perfection is concocted of bumbling nose placement, your arms coming to rest and your hands clasping around his neck, the inevitable rising on your tiptoes as you push your body fervently towards his....I'm sorry, this is turning rather Mills and Boon-ish, isnt it?

So I guess what I could say now, is that I'm in limbo love. Im not in real physical actual romance novel love, but I am unexpectedly taken with this boy. You can't say he occupies my every waking moment of thought, but he does make an occasional guest appearance. Im going to be very reserved about this, I think because I dont want it to turn into anything more in my head just yet.

All around the limbo clock
Hey lets do the limbo rock.

Watch this space.

Good luck in life and (limbo) love,

Honey xoxo

Its Not About The Length??

You know, even I cant believe sometimes the lengths I go to, just to impress a boy I like.

I remember when I wore ripped jeans and a flanelette shirt to mufti day because the boy I liked was into heavy metal.

I remember when I wore my glasses and quoted Rilke when I met a boy at university who was holding books by Zola, Satre and De Beauvoir. Yes, I did that.

I remember lying to my friends about the faults of a boy I liked, just so I wouldnt have to defend him to anyone.

I remember lying to myself about a boys faults, so I wouldnt have to say goodbye.

I remember dancing provocatively across numerous dancefloors to get in the eyeline of a cute boy, only to look away nervously when he tried to catch my eye.

I remember waiting at home late on friday and saturday nights, having opted for, instead of a fun night with my friends, a night of nervously checking my mobile phone and immediately imigaining it ring were I to leave the room for a second.

And now I can remember wanting to make someone notice me so much that last weekend I ran across a highway in nothing but my underpants.

You know, even I cant believe the lengths I go to, just to impress a boy I like.

Good luck in life and love,

Honey xx