Bigmouth strikes again

I trust my feelings. Always have, always will. It's my judgement that I don't trust.

As anyone who knows me will tell you, I am generally a quiet girl who only speaks when there's something to say, who won't give an opinion unless I've got one, and who would rather sort things out myself rather than ever ask for help. It's frustrating, then, when I do open my mouth and say something meaningful, only for it to fuck up a perfectly good moment. Time is everything, isn't it. I can always be trusted to pick the wrong one.

There's definitely something to be said for bottling stuff up.

Time flies

There's a new stephenhero record out. The last time Patrick released a record he brought a copy to Indietracks for me to say thanks for giving him his first gig in five years. I will treasure it always -both the thought and the record. Anyway, I couldn't have said it better than Sam, so I'll leave it there.

This weekend in Bristol was ace, and there were moments when I remember trying to work out when last I laughed that much. It helps if you're with people who make situations funny and memorable, instead of moaning when things go against them. It was nice to unexpectedly bump into people I know from other towns. It rained, but it was okay because it made the Sunday afternoon pub crawl more cosy. Bristol is the deadest place on earth on a Sunday and we were hard pressed to even find a shop open let alone a pub, but when you have a warm hand to hold on to and someone's stories to listen to and exciting plans to make, it really doesn't matter how far you have to walk in the cold to find signs of life.

On the train, halfway back to London, I said something along the lines of enjoying this journey and wanting to prolong it. It was nice just to have so many things to talk about, and it seemed a shame to get off the train and go home. I sort of got my wish, because minutes later the train stopped and didn't move for another two hours while they cleared the suicide off the track. Despite the gloomy reason for the delay, it was the most entertaining train journey ever and I sort of wished I could've got to know some of those passengers better. Somehow it still didn't seem that long a journey, even when I fell into bed at 2am knowing I had to get up again in four hours. And instead of sleeping, I had another laughing fit.

In the deep end

It's been a long haul getting to this point, and it's been a massively confusing time. I've not really been able to talk about it because there were other people to consider, and nerves were getting in the way. But if you want something badly enough, you just have to go for it right?

I doubt the consequences are going to be that easy, but after waiting this long I'm ready to face them rather than try to put the brakes on like before, which just made me unhappy.

So enough of sneaking around and covering my tracks. I'm officially un-single and pretty chuffed about that actually.

She called me Betty

I made a new friend recently. She came into my life like a whirlwind, sat at the desk next to mine, and seemed to know exactly what I was thinking at all times. It's nice to have such an easy friendship where you don't have to explain or apologise for anything. We were going through all the same stuff at the time, and it's like she was sent to me. Suddenly I started looking forward to going to work. It was lovely, and we made fun of the bad times.

Then one morning she announced she'd got a job in Argentina and was leaving at the end of the week. We went out for dinner twice and the day she left I took the afternoon off so I didn't have to say goodbye. The following Monday I came in and her desk was cleared, but she'd left flowers on my desk with a post-it note that read "For Betty". I had a lump in my throat.

It's funny how you can know someone years and never really know them, but meet another person for a few weeks and totally get each other.

I miss you Sim.

Get up and do the things you've been dreaming

I had just had some news that I'm finding hard to keep to myself until it's announced tomorrow. It's just the icing on the cake of a pretty fucking awesome week.

Thank you Noel Edmonds. Thank you Jim Cunningham.

I'm drunk, and loving every minute.

Journeys and destinations

It's funny how you can forget a whole evening out but remember one important moment from it, something someone said and the way it made you feel, a telling look in someone's eye, a secret shared, a great plan that was formulated and the music that was playing at the time. The brain edits out all the unimportant stuff about how you got to that point and what happened afterwards. It decides which bits will become your memories, the bits you would stick in a photo album, the bits that guide you and move you to the next place in your life.

But it's the journeys from place to place where you (or I, anyway) do a lot of thinking and processing and decision-making. These are the times when your feet are carrying you along and they know where to take you, so your mind is free to wander. I guess that must be why I've been walking everywhere lately - I must have had a hell of a lot on my mind! I've been underestimating the power of walking and cold air and being alone with my thoughts. When you try to work things through by talking to people, they often get warped by questions and watering down of information and wrong advice, and some of the time the people you talk to are only trying to extract gossip.

Thinking while walking puts things right into perspective. Once you've made a decision on your own and you have the confidence to go with it and you don't listen to anyone else, you can make anything happen. It's been that sort of week. And today I breezed into town and walked myself into a few places I would never have gone until recently, but I needn't have worried at all, and my life is much better off for it.

Never mind therapy, just follow your feet.

And when the sun comes up...

I love the fact that my bedroom window is just over the head of my bed. If I wake up in the middle of the night, I can look at the stars. On Monday morning I woke up to a mauve and golden sky pierced with the brightest star (or planet?) I'd ever seen. I can see Hornsey Road Baths from my window, one of the most awesome buildings in London, and at night I can see the purple glow from its neon sign.

For the first time in ages, and after all the tears of Saturday night, I woke up on Monday morning with a feeling of having survived something and shed an old skin, ready to face anything and full of excitement. The tightness had gone from my chest and I took a really deep breath. The night before, I had gone to my new local with my new flatmate and the conversation flowed so easily and naturally and it was a laugh. It makes all the difference once you know you are going to get along (and to have such a brilliant pub in close proximity).

And last night, my first outing as a proper single person, I felt so full of energy that I walked from my house to The Wilmington Arms. That's 3½ miles, 1 hour 10 mins, 261 calories, 5000 steps. I love the streets of Islington with their tall smart terraces and chocolate-box glimpses of warm lively rooms, and I realised I'd missed them more than I knew. It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable to be out on my own, it was just lovely to see friends and watch bands and to hang out with the most genuine people I know.

That's the thing that's hit me the most about the last few weeks; the care that people have. The people who come through for you when you need it most, even in the smallest way, without wanting something out of it for themselves are the ones that will be in your life forever.

Gone

You've thought about it for ages, and it's niggled at you, and you have times when you feel lucky just to have someone nice, and others when you feel like you're just kidding yourself and you're thinking about other people all the time. You convince yourself that you just need to make more effort and try harder, but pretty soon you realise you're lying to yourself, them, and everyone around you, and you make a decision. Then you worry that you're not strong enough to go through with it, so you tell a friend and seek their support and once you've poured your heart out and your friend hugs you and tells you you're doing the right thing, you've forced yourself into it and can't go back, because they would know you were living a lie. You want it to be as painless as possible for the other person. You tell your friend when you plan to do it, and they offer support and a comfy sofa should you need one.

You know you still love them, but you know it's not the same kind of love you had when you met. You never want to hurt the people you love, so this is the hardest thing of all to get your head around.

The day comes, and you still haven't worked out what to say, so you just wait for a moment together and come straight out with it. It could go two ways - they're really upset, or they've been thinking the same thing and you've beat them to it, but that doesn't make any difference to the pain you'll feel later.

The first few days you will laugh and cry and reminisce and joke about dividing up CDs. You tell your friends and relatives, and you get messages from people you haven't spoken to for years. You assure everyone you're OK because you don't want to bother them.

You start wanting to go out and see people and start your new life before you've even moved out, so you go out with people you really shouldn't be with, to places you wouldn't normally go, because you want to get out of the house and forget and show everyone how over it you are. But most of all, you want to be the one who scores first, who is moving on the quickest. But then, all you'll want to do is go and tell your ex about it, because they've now become your best friend, but you can't because it's too weird. Your friends tell you to get someone to fuck as soon as possible. You are now able to do whatever and whoever you want, but the ones you want are a bit too close to home, so you go without.

You drink. A lot. You stop eating almost completely, and when you do eat you can't swallow and you feel sick. You lose weight and people comment and you like it because it's one positive thing to come out of it all. You're drinking on an empty stomach and you can't get anything practical done because you're always pissed. You're useless at work. You say stupid things to people and act like a twat, all the time thinking you're fooling people that you're fine. But they've been there, remember?

You move out. The new place is empty and quiet and smells funny and you don't know where the strange noises are coming from. You sack off unpacking and go out for a walk in the dark. You buy wine and take it home and head straight for facebook to tell everyone how ace your new life is. You avoid your bed because it's not yours, and it's empty. You feel excited one minute and think about the possibilities now ahead of you, and the next minute you have your head in your hands. You text your ex just to say hello. All the songs that come on are sad ones and they ALL apply to you. The Field Mice are a fucking nightmare. You go out for another walk and wish you could bump into someone you know. You have places you could go but you look and feel a mess. You wish you weren't alone. You wish you could feel something, anything, but this. You put up posters to make the place your own, but it still feels like an intrusion on someone else's property. It seems like EVERYONE is out tonight having fun and you are going to be forgotten. It's Saturday night, and you are desperate to find someone else who is at home, but there's nobody.

You know you've done this to yourself. You're responsible for all of it. It won't sink in. You have gone. You're on your own now, missing the biggest part of your life. You want a hug and to break down in someone's arms, but you also know you have to do this on your own. And you don't feel like you deserve it anyway because you are the one who finished it. Then the tears come, and they won't stop and it feels like you'll cry forever. You can't breathe and you're shaking and you want to run away but where? You catch sight of your reflection and you look like Gene Simmons and it makes you laugh and then you cry even more because you have nobody to laugh with. You wanted your independence and you wanted to play the field and you plan to do just that but you are terrified of nobody ever wanting you. You just want to feel something else, someone else, so you can move on and have something else to think about. You want someone to want you, even for a moment. You want to know you can make someone feel good.

Alcohol isn't enough and you need something else, but you can't afford it and it's no fun on your own anyway. You want to go a bit mad and do all the things you gave up, but you're afraid you'll scare people off.

You're on your own now, and it feels most horrible late at night.

Just click send.

Sometimes you have to put an end to stuff before it finishes you. Somehow I found my conscience today. This is when instincts get confusing, because you realise what feels right for you in the moment isn't right for the people you care about, and you have to let some things go. Or maybe it's just a case of right thing, wrong time. Well, whatever, it's done now.

The London nobody knows

I went to a dark place last night. It was Bronze, and it was Lost Highway, it was a bad neighbourhood of Los Angeles and the dirty depths of London, it was filthy jazz and seedy surf, it was flickers of light and strobes and moments here and moments there and silhouettes and secrets. It was warm and sticky and abstract and anything could happen and anything probably did happen and time didn't matter, so much so that I forgot to check it and went home late. It felt like a dream, but this place exists alright.

Back here in the normal world, where work must be done, my colleague and I counsel each other through our extreme tiredness and explode into tears of laughter over absolutely nothing.