Needle in the Hay

Relationships are so tiring, so much so that they just make me want to crawl back into my bed and under the covers and just sleep forever. 

Birdsong.

The other day, me, my mum, and Peter (mum’s partner) were having a roast dinner in the dining room and having conversations about dogs and apple pie and the noises Peter’s stomach makes when he’s eaten too much rice, when we heard a cooing noise coming from the fireplace. 
“Sounds like an owl’s fallen down the chimney”, I said.
“Nah, I don’t think it’s there, it’s probably sat on the chimney and cooing down it or something”, said Peter.
“Maybe it was your stomach?” joked mum. The cooing continued, and scratchy, flappy noises were heard, accompanied with more cooing. 
“I’m sorry Peter, but there is a bird behind the fireplace”, I said. Our fireplace is one of those electric ones that gets installed, that we had never actually used since we moved in many years ago. It wouldn’t be a problem if it was a proper fireplace, as the bird would just fall through and we’d let it out. Unless the fire was on anyway. Eventually, Peter agreed with me. As we listened closer, there was indeed something on the other side of the fireplace. We started tearing apart the fireplace, pulling it out and ripping bits off to reveal that there was a flimsy metal sheet covering up the entrance to the chimney with a slim slot the same size as the slot in a letterbox, almost like some sort of miniature prison door. We peered in and couldn’t see anything, or hear anything in fact. Peter starting cooing, and so did I, not that we sounded anything like real birds, and then I went and got a torch, and Peter shone it through. 
“OH! There it is, look!” said Peter. I had a peep and saw a very large wood pigeon, huddled up into itself. It was very quiet and still. 
“Is it dead?” I asked.
“No, probably just frightened, go and get me a stick or something so I can give it a small prod”. I came back with the only thing I could find, a huge golf umbrella, but it wouldn’t fit in the slot, so Peter decided to try and rip open the metal seal, which was actually only sealed on with duct tape, and eventually ripped open part of it. He stuck the umbrella in and gave it a nudge, and it fell to the side, rocking about like a dusty ball of feathers.
“Oh, this bird is definitely dead, and has been for a while. We’d best get it out anyway or it could stink up the whole place”. Peter reached his hand into the gap, and after many attempts, managed to grab it and dropped its body on the wooden floor. It bounced a couple of times, and tipped to the side. It was all dried up, eyes still shiny. 
“Those bird noises probably came from a bird that fell and managed to get back up the chimney, maybe”, said Peter. He scooped it up and put it in a plastic bag, then put it in the bin outside.  

I wish I had an evil twin.

I’m sat here, listening to The Magnetic Fields for the first time in a while, with my new fringe cut which I did because a fit of rage took over me and I just grabbed the scissors and hacked away at my hair and now I look stupid and I’m even more angry than I was before. I look more Asian than I already do look, not to mention about 12 years old. I’m supposed to be playing a gig in a couple of hours and I look like a complete tit. I think I need to hide the scissors somewhere safe for next time I get angry, or I’ll end up having no hair left. 

Games.

So, I’m currently sat in bed, right next to my boyfriend. He is completely oblivious to the fact that I am writing a blog entry about him. Why? Because he is currently playing Call of Duty, shouting things like “Yes, FUCK OFF, I’ll fucking blow you’s up, bastards!” and not taking his tired eyes off the screen. I might as well be on Mars. I’m trying to get into it, I really am, but I find myself losing interest. Am I abnormal? I don’t know how anybody can just sit and mindlessly watch their boyfriend play Call of Duty for hours, it completely baffles me. My boyfriend is new to all this, so I guess all I need to do is try and adjust. Games though…I can understand people playing them, they’re fun, but what I don’t understand is how some people can spend their whole lives on them? You know, “I’ll pause this whilst I go and quickly make something to eat, scoff it down, and resume the game until I need a piss”. Maybe it’s because it’s a way of escaping the real world? Do some people think their lives are that bad that they need to live the life of another person? I don’t know, maybe… I suppose in a way it’s like reading a book, you read to escape, right? To live your life in somebody else’s shoes for a while, become some sort of alter-ego…? I’d say there’s probably more involvement in games though, more of an interactive method of achieving a fantasised reality. Don’t get me wrong, I love reading, but I guess the beauty of reading is that you can do it anywhere, and anytime. You can read on the bus, you can read on the grass under a tree in the sunshine, you can breathe. Not to mention the fact that reading would probably blossom your imagination, and keep the mind ticking. My point is, in my opinion, over-gaming numbs the mind; although the purpose of books and games are very similar, both achieve completely different results and effects on the individual. I’d say, books open people up more, mentally, and games close people in, in many different aspects. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you’d have nice strong thumbs after a good few hours on the ol’ console, and yes, maybe I am being pretty skeptical, but after seeing and knowing a good handful of game-zombies, you know, “Games this, games that, I’m not coming out cos I’m playing games. Guess what? I bought a new game. I can’t wait til next Monday because this new ninja game is coming out” I’m pretty sure I’ll stick with my thoughts and opinions, especially due to the fact that I’m lay in bed waiting for my boyfriend to come off the bloody thing and just hold me to sleep. 

Hospitals.

I’m ill, yet again. I have the shivers, a very high temperature, and I’ve been suffering with nausea. Not to mention this unbelievable ache I have all over my body, my back being in the most pain. I have such a poor immune system, I think it must be from my mum protecting me from every germ under the sun when I was younger. I was never a child to play in the mud or to get my hands dirty. Life was over-hygienic for me; it never gave my little body a chance to become immune and to learn to fight and defend itself, which has resulted in me being a walking illness at 20 years old. When I get a cough, it lasts a couple of months, and when I get the sniffles, I get them for just as long. I’ve been in hospital for kidney infections various times, not to mention I have to have a massive chunk of my left ear taken out because a cartilage piercing went terribly wrong. Okay, the latter was a result of me being careless and not having the right sort of skin for self-mutilation, but either way, it’s another hospital visit to chuck on the list. I have an ultra-sound for my kidneys on Tuesday, fingers crossed I don’t have kidney failure or something, the thought of having a kidney transplant or even an artificial kidney makes me feel a bit faint. 

I think I love my boyfriend far too much. Somebody bring me back down to earth?

Scaredy Cat.

Me and my boyfriend Gary watched Coffin Rock the other week on Sky movies, and this might sound strange, but the film has given me a temporary (I hope) fear of Irish accents. It’s set in Australia, and it’s about an Irish boy who stalks this woman around after she has a drunken one night stand with him, and he becomes obsessed. Her husband has no idea, but this Irish boy is always there, following her, until eventually he kidnaps her and tries to kill her. I’ll be honest, it wasn’t a great film, but the Irish guy was so creepy that it’s put me off the Irish accent, which was actually one of my favourite accents prior to the film. Here’s another example of me being put off and scared easily, I now really don’t like Robin Williams after watching One Hour Photo. Another one about a stalker, and yes, I know Robin Williams can’t help his condition in the film, and that it’s made for you to feel a bit sorry for him at the same time, but that film creeped me out for ages. Why do I get so freaked out so easily? I don’t understand. I get creeped out when Gary pulls a scary face in the dark, even though it turns out one time he actually only smiled at me in the dark and I ended up offending him slightly. You know how it is in the dark, it distorts everything. Anyway, I really hope my fear of Irish accents and Robin Williams disappears soon, because Irish accents have started popping up more frequently of late. Thankfully, Robin Williams hasn’t. 

I started my “Cheese Dreams” thing again. Some people say it’s a myth, but I find that eating cheese before bed gives you some very very obscure dreams. Not nightmares though, just vivid, weird dreams. So there we are, I have a little piece of cheddar before I go to sleep, and all my dreams of late have been colourful and bizarre. I ought to be careful what with my tendency to get scared and creeped out easily, because these dreams are getting strange. I don’t exactly remember the stories, but the colours and imagery are beyond belief. I might start writing a “Cheese Dreams” journal, see what happens. I know, you’re probably thinking “What are you doing with your life?” and I’ll be honest, I have no idea. I suppose it’s just a little something to make my sleeps more interesting and to make my mornings even more interesting. 

All in all, I have no idea where this blog entry is leading, so I guess I’d probably be best just leaving it here. 

Hate.

Have you ever felt so much hate for someone that the mere mention of their name makes you want to be sick? That the thought of them brews up an anger so strong it burns away your insides? That the sight of them makes your poor little eyes sizzle ever so slightly? I have. 

Yes, hate is such a strong word, but only for such a strong feeling.