Something smelly this way comes...

There is something to be said for the benefits of not stopping smoking. Most important and relevant to me at the present time is the use of public transport in London. After a wasted journey to HR, which upon arrival I discovered that my proof of address was not appropriate, (argument for not pay all my bills online) while taking the number 18 bus from Euston I notice the scent of one of my fellow passengers. I suspected that he, I imagine it was a he, was sat almost directly behind me. The smell was unlike the heavily applied cologne or cooked food, or body odour that would usually get my goat and give me something to gripe about, nor was it the all to frequent musk of flatulence which I always feel is forgivable as when the shoe is on the other foot I feel a secret sense of satisfaction after silently letting one rip in public. No this smell was much worse. It was deeper and engrained in the fabric of his being. It was the smell usually only associated with pound coins and mechanics, or even scrap merchants. Ground in dirt. The smell of a tough days work. I knew without looking that this was not the smell of hard graft. It was the smell of sleeping on your mates sofa, putting on unwashed clothes, for rinsing your hair with water until it starts to clean itself, of going to bed when the sun comes up, and getting the bus home while everyone else is at work. I couldn’t help but think that if I still smoked I wouldn’t be able to smell my fellow passenger or that if he smoked he would certainly smell better. Focusing on the stench of muck was turning my belly so I let my mind wonder on to other things. I remembered an interesting fact: that an indicator of an individuals state of mental health is their level of personal hygiene as this is one of the first things to go. I felt bad for judging this person who I had still not turned around to see. I wondered if I had ever smelled like that.

Sorry Mr Grey, unless your name is Dorian, I'm just not interested.

Today I re-learned something that I've known for a while - Always trust my gut instincts. 

I took an almost instant dislike to a book that my friend was reading. My dislike for this book was based on nothing except an instinctual 'knowing' that I would not like the text. However, despite my better judgement I promised my friend that I would give it a go. As she pointed out, "how can you really know until you've read it?" .... Well it turns out, sometimes you just know. I struggled through the first 20 pages determined that I would break through, suspend my believe, and get some pleasure from my purchase. At page 50 (which I think is a fair enough 'go' at anything)... I walked over to the recycling bin and placed the book inside along with all the other stuff which is of more value to someone else. The writing is crappy, the plot is tenuous, and the characters are completely unenthralling - if not rather annoying. No this book is just not for me.

Don't let me put you off, I encourage you to go and find out for yourself. If you can see what all the fuss is about please, I would be interested to hear your view... but for now, all I have to say is "Sorry Mr Grey, unless your name is Dorian, I'm just not interested"

50 Shades of Grey - E. L James

Not recommended.

An analogy...

It's the moment at the party when the drugs wear off,

As you look back at the amazing time you had,

There is no way of knowing how much of it was real,

If what was real for you was real for the other person,

Could they make out when you were playing the game?

When the drugs wear off at the party reality hits,

Nothing has been lost but a couple of hours,

Time enjoyed wasting isn't wasted time, 

I was high off of this man for over a year!

The light are turned on. It is time to go home.

Today is...

Today is July 6th.
It is the day that John Lennon and Paul McCartney first met.
Louis Armstrong died 41 years ago today.
Today George W Bush and Sylvester Stallone both turn 66 years old.
I will be 28.
But most importantly.... It is National Kissing Day!! xxx

Race for Life

Well, it has been emotional - far more emotional that I had anticipated if I’m honest. I think that I had been focusing so much on the 10k part of the day, that when I arrived at Blackheath and saw 1000 of women in a sea of pink, wearing the names of loved ones lost, t-shirts with tributes to grandparents, friends, mum’s, dad’s, children… the reality of the days events really hit home. Needless to say I cried at various points along the course. Most of all I think at the 8km marker as I passed a lady who was wearing a t-shirt with a picture of her daughter which said: 

‘For Maisey -  because today you would have been 13!’

I completed the course in 1hour 3minutes and 6seconds. I really am thrilled with that time. Thank you for all your support and sponsorship! I would definitely recommend the race for life and I will definitely be doing it again.

Thank you and goodnight.

Today I did something that my future self will thank me for; I told my boyfriend that our relationship was over and I meant it.
I am no longer happy.
I don't recognize myself anymore.
I don't like what I've become.
He doesn't like me.
I don't like him.
It's time to call it a day.
He told too many lies in too short a time, and whether I am able to forgive him or not is irreverent if he is not willing to take responsibility of his part in my reaction to him and the way things have turned out.
That's fine.
You win.
You were right; everything comes to an end.
I am just like all the other girls.
It's me not you.
I thought that you and I would be very happy for a long time, and if things had turned out differently then we might have been.
Things were not different.
It is what it is.
You told me once that you wanted to experience everything, 'it might be the best thing ever', but you never really experience me and I never really experience you.
That makes me sad.
I feel sorry for us both.
What we want is too difference.
What we need is not the same.
What we are prepared to give is not equal.
The relationship is at a point where it is going to be difficult to look back upon it fondly, and it is only going to get worse.
None of this would be happening if you and I were right for each other and now, finally, its time to start listening to the alarm bells.
Perhaps at some point in the future we can be friends again but too much water has passed underneath the burnt bridges, and like our relationship, I doubt either of us wanting that enough to make it work.

Anything But The Truth...So Help Me God.

So I had kept a diary for as long as I could remember... but now I don't. I think much of this has to do with the realization that someone will ultimately end up reading it.

"Why don't you write an edited version?" I hear you say... well then what would be the point? I know that there are some people that I wouldn't mind reading my diary... well, maybe one person, but that would mean I would never be able to write anything (positive or negative) about them in the 'full version' so it would in itself be edited.

I have been blogging in secret. "Why do you blog in secret?" ...because if I knew that there was any chance of someone I know reading my words I would be forced to censor myself,  and then what would be the point.

I find this cathartic, but I still don't have the guts to write like I would in my diary. Maybe if I did write with complete honestly I would get a readership... dare I tell the truth?