Scrambled

I have notes and notes filled with blog post ideas. Ideas that are probably pretty great. Ideas that I will write at some stage, some point in the future but not right now.  I can't grasp them, it hurts my head to try.  The words, they are elusive.  Nothing is making sense and it all feels a little surreal.

Imagine your brain as a place filled with worker ants.  At the moment my worker ants have taken speed.  I tried to find a picture to represent it but I gave up after 5 minutes.  Nothing quite felt disorganised enough. Nothing represented the chaos that is my brain at the moment.  I have so much IN my head and no way to grab it and get it out.  I feelt like a spectator to my own inner workings.

No doubt this too shall pass but at the moment it's fucking insane.  I can't concentrate, I try and it's too hard.  Everything is scrambled and filled with static.  I want to share the ideas that I have but the path between my hands and my mind is filled with obstacles. 

This is a short one, to let you know where I am at...normal viewing will resume soon.  Until then I leave you with this 

Lingering Love

A post I read a couple of days got me thinking about blog linkys.  It got me thinking about the good and the not so good of them. It made me second guess whether I want to play along anymore.
 

I love the new blogs that I find via linkys. I love that they expose me to blogs that I normally wouldn't read. I love that they bring new readers to Musings of the Misguided.  The little community they can create is great as well. It can sometimes feel like you have your own little clique when you find the kind of linky that just 'fits'.
 

I've found and kept reading some great bloggers through linkys.  I keep reading those blogs through social media. It's easier to see a glimpse into a person's life when you read more than a few words strung together on a blog post.  A blog post can be a window into a life, it's up to the blogger how far open the curtains are.
 

The blog post that got me thinking, made a comment about how linkys make people comment just for the sake of commenting.  Linkys have rules. It would descend into chaos if it didn't.  It does make me uncomfortable though that something someone writes, that could be heart on the page material for them is being commented on people who are 'just following the rules'.
 

How many of us go back after reading a post that a person wrote, reaching out for help, to see how that blogger is traveling? I know I'm guilty of doing the comment and dash, none of us a perfect.  I really hate that a person could feel the 'love' of multiple commentors and then the echoing silence of people going back to their lives. Rules met.
 

I hate saying things for the sake of saying things. I don't like 'blowing smoke up your arse'.  If I am going to say something, I am going to mean it, it's not going to be fluffy.  I am so thankful for those who have stuck around. I have loved getting to know you all and I hope the feeling is mutual.
 

If you are a blogger to link up to linky parties? Do you love them or loathe them? 

Commenting Made Easy

Yesterday Salz from Salz Dummy Spits wrote a great post about how to comment on a blog. It got me thinking about the other side of the coin.  What can bloggers do to help make commenting on a post that much easier?
 

1.  Firstly...get rid of damn capture. The codes are damn near impossible to read. When I get one fist go I feel like I have cracked The Da Vinci Code or something similar.  If it doesn't work the second time then I give up. I have a short attention span.  Like toddler short.  If you don't know how to get rid of it, I've gone to the trouble of googling it for you. http://www.ehow.com/how_12101876_rid-captcha-blog.html
 

2. If you have captcha, don't have moderation as well. It's just overkill. Do one or the other. Moderation is easier for everyone. You get to scan the comments before they go live and the people who want to comment on your blog don't have to jump through 1000 hoops to leave a comment. If things are too hard, people won't comment.
 

3.  Interact with the people who comment on your blog. If someone has asked you a question, or even taken the time to comment on your blog, make some kind of effort to reply to it.  It makes your readers feel included and that's how you start a community, by not being an Ice Queen who thinks they are holier than thou.
 

4.  Ask questions to get people involved.  I know that sometimes I don't know what to reply to a post beyond 'great post'. Talk about things that make your reader want to engage with you.
 

5.  Don't leave comments in moderation too long. I'm really bad for this because I forget to check moderation.  As a reader though I know how frustrating it can be to go back a day  later to a post that you have commented on, to find that your comment still hasn't appeared.  It can make you feel that the comment has been deleted or completely ignored on purpose. Or maybe that's just my paranoia.
 

As a commenter on blogs...what is your suggestion to bloggers to make things easier for you? What are your pet hates when you try to comment on a blog?

The truth is better than any story

I've shared with you all before that I have been in jail before.  I was there for 2 months. Two long months.  Two months is certainly long enough to know what the routines are, what is expected and to miss the things that you take for granted in the 'outside world'.  It's this experience that makes me pissed off when I see people make flippant remarks about how 'easy' criminals have it in jail.  It's certainly easier for a lot of people than being out on the streets, but it's certainly no walk in the park.
 

I won't go into what I did to end up in jail in this post because it's all in the post I have made before.  For ease of conversation however I will say that my crime is categorised by the law as a violent crime. Even though I had no intention of hurting anyone but myself, the law likes to put everything in nice, neat little boxes.  I was refused bail and spent three days in a watch house.  I went to court once in that time.  So it is with great interest that I watch news programs talk about the 'injustice' that celebrities (if you could even call them that) receive when they are taken into custody.
 

Stripping from head to toe in front of two officers is horrible, you feel disgusting but it's a necessary part of the custody process. While some officers may take their role a little too seriously, this act is not done with the sole purpose of humiliation, despite what the sensationalised media will tell you.  It's necessary to protect both yourself and the people you will be sharing a cell with. Yes there is a high chance that you will have to share.
 

What are they looking for? Contraband.  Once again if you listen to the media then this only stretches to drugs. It's not. It's anything that can be used as a weapon, both on yourself or someone else.  It includes things like belts, shoelaces, drawstrings, any belongings on your person as well as the more obvious things such as drugs, alcohol and tobacco.  These things are not taken off you to make your life more difficult on purpose, they are there to protect you.  Everyone goes into the cell with the same thing, stand over tactics are reduced this way.
 

Another aspect that makes me roll my eyes is the idea that prisoners get 3 hot meals a day.  The meals might be hot when they leave the kitchen..an hour before they are served to the prisoners but they are definitely not hot when they are consumed.  Ever eaten pasta when it's stone cold? It's like eating glue.  Far from the five star treatment that the media would like to lead the public to believe.  If you live in the residential area, you must get a job so that you can pay for your own food and cook it.  Before you get scared about the prisoners being out amongst the public, these jobs are things like mowing the prison grounds, working in the kitchen, jobs within the jail. 
 

For a few of the prisoners that I shared a section with, them being in jail is better than their life outside.  They have somewhere to sleep, food is definitely coming and they don't have to deal with abusive family members.  It's easy to be grateful for little when you are used to nothing.  

Linking up with Essentially Jess for #IBOT

Selfishness and Parties

 A conversation on twitter yesterday got me thinking about my 21st.  In Australia the big parties seem to be the 18th, 21st and then the decades there after.  My 18th was pretty non event so I was holding out for my 21st.  The universe however had other ideas. I was 6 months pregnant with Devil Spawn for my 21st so my birthday was a no alcohol for me event.  I wanted to just go to the local pool and laze around in my giant pregnant state but apparently that was unfair to all of my other able to drink guests. Whatevs
 

Just to throw another spanner in the works Devil Papa also got shingles in the week before the party so he was too tired to stay much longer than a couple of hours.  It did make the night relatively cheaper though as two of the biggest drinkers were out of action!
 

My family traveled down for it (7 hours so was a bit of a hike for them) and we had dinner at a local pub. I had a few friends come along and it started off as a nice night.  Until one annoying friend, who is no longer my friend, started to complain.  Some part of her brain malfunctioned and she thought that the night was about her. Her brain malfunctioning is all that I can think of because surely no one is as selfish as she acted that night.
 

The party started at 630pm (I think, the memory is a bit fuzzy) and after half an hour she was complaining that she was bored and wanted to know when we planned on going clubbing.  As I already mentioned, my family had traveled 7 hours to be here, they sure as hell deserved more than 30 minutes of my time.  Also no one in their right mind goes clubbing at 7pm, there is no one out and you look like a dick.
 

My party was also a sit down dinner...no one had eaten.  If you have ever been pregnant or been around someone who is pregnant, then you know that nothing stands between a pregnant woman and her food.  Especially at the particular pub we were at. They are known for their giant meals.  Devil Papa and I go there regularly and often take left overs home as there is enough for another meal.
I tried to ignore said friend to no avail. She was adamant that we must leave as soon as possible for the clubs.  She even made a point of walking out in a huff (aka adult sized tantrum) after I had said for what felt like the 1000th time that no we were not going anywhere yet. I hadn't made plans to go clubbing at all but if the opportunity arose I'd take it. 8pm was not the opportunity that I saw.
 

The party came to a close and a few of us decided to go to a large hotel that was in the vicinity of the clubs but not completely full of douche bags.  As I mentioned, I was six months pregnant at the time and just wanted to dance without someone grinding their groin on me.  As the hotel was mainly filled with middle aged women at the time, instead of getting my arse grabbed there was lots of belly rubbing to feel like Devil Spawn kick.  He obliged by doing his usual Mexican wave across my stomach. 
 

This 'club' was obviously not to the standard of which my 'friend' was hoping for.  She once again still forgot that it was in fact my party and we were going where I damn well said we were. Yes I was an only child for 11 years...how did you guess?  She complained and huffed about how we weren't doing what she wanted to do. 

After my parents left, I told her to go do what she wanted because I was sick to death of her attitude.  I was pretty reserved and had to tell another friend who was there at the time to leave it, because I was very close to telling her to go fuck herself.
While this friend didn't ruin my night, it made the night very unpleasant.  Her selfish actions left a sour taste in my mouth and it wasn't too much longer after that, that I cut her out of my life completely.
 

Have you had a party ruined by someone else's attitude?

Hiding in the quiet

Do you know what it's like to have too much noise in your head? When the world is too noisy and there is nothing you can do to quieten it?  You listen to music to try to block it all out, but it just makes you feel worse.  You feel agitated and messy. Nothing is right.  Everything is annoying.  You can't quite put your finger on what it is that is wrong.
 

The world is too hard, too harsh. It is easier to lock yourself away, to pretend it doesn't exist. You crave contact, but it's too much. You feel constantly on edge because you have concocted in your head a story that is more fantasy than fiction.  You imagine what everyone is thinking, saying. Laughter is meant for you, you become agitated, ready to snap at the first person who dares to look at you the wrong way. 
 

Waking is too hard. Your head is constantly heavy. It's easier to have your eyes closed. Easier to pretend that there is no one else there. Everyday is a blanket over your head kind of day. It feels too hard.  Simply getting out of bed feels like an effort. An effort that you struggle with.  An effort that you wonder if it's worth it. 
 

Have you walked on the beach, in the soft sand with thongs full of sand, up a hill? It's a struggle. Your body aches and you aren't sure if you can keep going.  That is what it's like everyday. Just when you think you are near the end, another hill appears. You want to give up but even that seems like too much effort. You look around, notice all of the mess piling up around you, knowing you should do something about it. Knowing that there is nothing that you could possibly do about it.
 

You can see the parts of your life that are suffering, know that there are things you should be doing.  You can't quite do it.  It's easier this way. But it's not.  Even keeping up a conversation is too much. You stay polite. Hiding away as soon as you get home. Keeping correspondence to messages and social media.  Plastering on a smile. Pretending you aren't dying inside.  

You want to walk away and never look back. Your finger is on the button. You want to make the call but know it will be pointless. Really. You need time out, time to gather yourself. Time where you don't have a little person to answer to. Time where you have no one but yourself to answer to. Time where you can just put the blanket over your head. Admit defeat and start rebuilding yourself.
 

Admitting it is the first step...it's all uphill from here.

I plead insanity

 We all have those relationships in our past that make us think WTF, was I drunk the entire time.  Whenever Devil Papa and I are having a bit of rough patch, I go and Facebook stalk one ex, lets call him Dick, just to remind myself where I could be.  It certainly helps bring me back to reality! Dick is six beers short of a six pack..even that is being generous.  I of course claim insanity, alcoholism and any other decision impairing substance for that little blight on my history.
 

Our relationship was short, mostly of me being drunk, him being naive and a relationship that looked more like mother and son to the outsiders.  Someone once remarked to me that if I ever fell pregnant to this guy that she'd hope that it would inherit my brain and not that fathers lack of, so that I could at least have an intelligent conversation with someone.  Our relationship ended when I sobered up a bit and realised what the hell he was really like. 
 

Even after we broke up, he kind of hung around for a while.  Like a lost puppy or something.  At the time I was living in hostel like accommodation, with 6 other women.  We were all crackers so it made for an interesting living arrangement, one that always meant someone had alcohol.  One of the 'rules' was that there was to be no men staying, a rule we all broke regularly. It was kind of an unwritten rule, you keep quiet, don't cause a fuss and everyone will turn the blind eye cos they've no doubt done worse.
 

One particular day Dick decided to pay me a visit and rode a push bike from his place on the other side of town, to my place...a journey of about 7km.  He put his bike in front of the house, thinking it would be safe inside the yard.  Upon leaving the house again, we discovered his bike was gone. One of the ladies, who I was friendly with was sitting on the steps. I asked her if she had seen what happened to the bike. She took one look at me, and promptly burst out laughing.  She was laughing so hard she had to go and get her asthma inhaler before telling us what had happened to the bike....
 

It had turned out one of the other ladies had thought some hooligan (the thought of Dick having the forethought to commit a crime still makes me laugh) had pinched a bike and dumped it at our house...so she called the police to have it picked up.  Surprisingly they were pretty prompt and had taken the bike to the police station already.  A phone call to the boys in blue revealed that Dick would have to go down to the station to identify his bike.
 

I decided that I should tag along, you know for shits and giggles. Plus the bottlo was on the way.  There was plenty of giggling the whole walk there, all 12 blocks of it. More from me, less from Dick.  I figured he'd tell them what his bike looked like and be over with it, turned out I was wrong, things were about to get a hell of a lot funnier...well for me anyway, well at least after I finished explaining to them that, no I wasn't there to sign in and doing three times a week was enough thanks folks.  I'm here with this dickhead, seemed to clear it all up though.
 

As the plot thickened, it turned out that the bike was his mates and he couldn't remember exactly what it looked like. Not one single detail.  Something which I didn't know until he was asked by the officer in charge.  Long story short, they wouldn't give him the bike.  Cue more laughter from me.  He then had to ring said mate, who had no idea that Dick had borrowed his brand new bike and tell him that he had to pick his bike up from the police station.  To say his mate wasn't impressed, was an understatement. 
All in all it was an afternoon of entertainment still makes me laugh even now, 6 years later.
 

Do you have an ex in your closet that you'd rather forget? Share your stories, make me feel a little better about Dick.

Obsession

I've talked before about my struggles with food. Food and I have never had a good relationship.  I could list reason after reason, point to some obscure moment in my childhood where it all started but that's not what this is about. No, this is about obsession and the hold it takes over you.
 

I can't really pinpoint the moment when it turned from flirting to obsession. It was so subtle I hardly noticed the change.  Eating 'normally' was never something that I did. I am an all or nothing kind of girl. I swing between eating nothing and eating all of the food in sight.  Which is probably why my weight yo-yos so much.  Disordered eating is that one step up, it's when it turns to obsession.
 

I hadn't regularly eaten lunch at school since I was 14, the year I turned 17 however it got 'serious'.  It started off as a 'health kick'.  Adding exercise to my routine. Then it wasn't enough. The food got less, the exercise got more. The weight started to drop off. School work suffered. I honestly have no idea how I managed to graduate.
An obsession consumes you. There is no room for anything else. 

You are exhausted all of the time, you pull away from friends.  I became my obsession. Every waking minute was filled with thoughts about much had I eaten, how much exercise I was going to do, when the next time I was going to eat.  Even though I had ridiculously reduced my calorie intake, my thoughts were still obsessed with food. I would allow myself one thing to eat a day. I would spend hours thinking about what that one piece of food could be.
 

I rarely slept. If I ate too much I needed to punish myself.  Too much could be an apple. I knew the calorie value of a food by just looking at it. My math skills greatly improved, pity I didn't use them for my schooling. I might have done much better.  Anything above 6 hours sleep during the week and I was doing well. No wonder I was a bundle of nerves.  Going off at the slightest thing.  My body was starving of all the essentials it needed and all I saw was things to make me push harder. 
 

It seemed to end as soon as it started. Sneaking away like a thief in the night. 

Linking up with #IBOT

Personal Space

I have a giant personal space bubble. Christmas shopping, being in crowded spaces in general invades that personal space bubble. I don't like it. It's something that grates on my nerves.  I don't like being touched without warning, and I do not appreciate strangers coming and touching me.  I even flinch when Papa Devil and Devil Spawn touch me.  I'm not a touchy feely kind of person.  If I hug you, know that it comes from a place that I really had to reach deep down to do it.
 

This week I had a woman invade my personal space and stroke my scars.  I looked at her in horror, completely speechless as to what would possess someone to stroke a person, who they didn't know's arm. I would never touch someone I didn't know. At least not while sober! My look of horror must have worked as she recoiled pretty quickly. No apology was offered though. It was not an accidental brush, we were the only two people standing at the bus stop. 
 

This weekend I went out with a few girlfriends.  Clubbing is a BIG breach of my personal space bubble. Occasional, accidental bumps I can handle. In my face, being obnoxious I cannot. This seems to be the only thing that males think exists when it comes to the dance floor.  Seriously what is with that? I am here to dance, trying not to feel like a complete dickhead, I do not need you grinding yourself on my leg like a dog humping it's favourite toy.  One guy attempted to get close to me and spilt his drink down my leg.  Drink wastage is not cool!
Do you have a giant personal space bubble or are you happy to be close to people?
 

Just a short one from me tonight.  Head to my Facebook Page to vote for this weeks Reader's Choice. It will be the last one for the year so make it a good one :)

Blame Game

The trouble when you have to do a life cull is that you really notice the shitty behaviour of people that you surround yourself with.  It makes you wonder what on earth possessed you to become friends in the first place, to allow these people into the inner sanctum that is your friendship circle.
 

Over the last few months I have been conflicted about an issue. An issue that I have talked at length with friends and family about.  An issue that just won't go away.  An issue that stares me in the face every single day.  That's the trouble with living in a town where everyone seems to know everyone.  This issue looks me in the face every time I look at Devil Spawn and think what could have happened.  How I wish that I had done things differently that night.  Woulda, shoulda, coulda. Something that I am struggling with immensly is that MY son was placed in danger but I am being painted the bad guy.
 

I am protecting my son from influences that I do not want him in contact with but I am being painted as dividing a family.  Devil Spawn is not an adult, he needs to be protected.  Contrary to what others think, he was not able to consent to the situation he was placed in.  The adults in the situation had the choice to go anywhere else and do what they did, instead they chose to do it on my son's bed, while he was asleep.  I don't care how intoxicated they think they were, what they did is wrong.  I am not to blame.
It's amazing when someone does something wrong that their friends take on a mob mentality.  The internet allows this to happen. It's easy to get caught up in the ebb and flow of a situation.  Ease of access to the internet means that it's hard to escape it. It can be in your face constantly.  The trouble with a mob mentality is that there is always one person singled out. I have been witness to this over and over again. It was only when it happened to me that I noticed the effects it can have on someone.  Hindsight can be a bitch. 
 

When we do something wrong, the adult thing is to apologise. To realise what we did wrong and apologise. Unfortunately not everyone thinks this way.  Some people enjoy playing the blame game.  It's something we do as children, but hopefully, by the time we are adults have developed enough morals to apologise when we realise we have done something wrong or we are pulled up on actions that are offensive to others.  The trouble with the blame game is that it doesn't help anyone, especially you.  It doesn't help anyone move on, and more often than not it alienates you from those around you.  Accepting what you did and concentrating on not making the mistakes again is sometimes all that you can do. 
 

However sometimes there is nothing you can do..some people have what I have coined the 'Victim Syndrome'.  If there is anyway for them to play the victim, they will take it and run with it.  I have talked before about how me being suicidal and not on correct medication led to me holding up a chemist.  At no point did I say that what I did was right. I realised and still realise that what I did was wrong and that I was very lucky to get the sentence that I did.  I work to make sure that I do not get back to a place where I feel that desperate again.  I try not to just lay down and admit defeat because I have a little person who is relying on me to keep going. 

Unbearable

I've made no secret of the fact that I am struggling lately.  Things have started to take an all new 'low' though and something has to give.

 

I'm barely making the basic living needs of both Devil Spawn and I.  I am barely able to get out of bed each morning. This shit is mother fucking hard and I'm sick of everything being an effort.

 

I nap most of the day, to avoid the reality that is my life at the moment.  I close my eyes and pretend it doesn't exist.  I ignore Devil Spawn.  It's just too hard.  Then I stay awake most of the night, relishing the alone time.  If Devil spawn has gone to sleep at a reasonable time that is.

 

I struggle to cook dinner.  Devil Spawn and I are living mostly on a diet of take away and sandwiches.  This is not something I am proud of. I do want to change it.  I'm taking small steps. Teeny, tiny smaller than baby steps.  It's just so hard when your entire body feels like it is made of cement.  It's an effort just to get up.

 

Personal hygiene has fallen to the wayside. Anything that takes too much energy is cast aside.  I feel dirty. I don't care. I don't see the point. I don't care enough about myself.  If I could I would stay in bed all day, in my pyjamas, staring at the ceiling. I'm done. I can't do it.

 

Today was the first day in a long time that the feelings bordered on unbearable.  I relied on closing my eyes and pretending the world didn't exist.  I contemplated hurting myself. I felt sick at the thought. I hung onto that feeling.  It didn't help.  I scoured the house, looking for something to use as a 'bandage'. My perfection, the only thing stepping in the way.  I held onto that thought for dear life.  I considered calling the Crisis Team and we all know how fruitless that would have been. That is how 'real' shit got.  It was unbearable.  The only thing that kept me going was my ability to close my eyes...pretend it didn't exist.

 

I'm holding on by a thread. Things have to change. I just don't know how.

Why I Started My Blog

Welcome to Reader's Choice Thursday! I hope you've all had a great week so far.
 

This weeks topic is 'Why I started my blog'.
 

I started my blog in April 2011. It started off as a place for me to vent. I used it as a sounding board for my thoughts and frustrations.  I didn't make it known to everyone that I had a blog as it was all pretty dark stuff at the start. 
 

I then came to the realisation that 'hey maybe someone could benefit from this'.  One of the things I enjoy about the blogs that I read on a regular basis is that they all talk about things that resonate with me at different times in my life.  There have been many times when I have been reading through a post nodding my head, and feeling better about losing my shit that morning because I know I'm not alone.  That's the kind of space that I wanted to create for my readers. 
 

For me writing has always been much easier than talking. I shut down and change the subject when walking one on one. I'm not particularly good at portraying what I am feeling in the spoken word.  Give me a pen and a piece of paper though and I can write you an essay.  My blog became a way to let people know where I am at. 
 

Sometimes life can be way to serious.  I check joke sites regularly and spend most of my online time on them.  I tend to mostly be in a cocoon, choosing when I want to engage with a news story.  We don't watch the news. Devil Spawn and I watch The Simpsons instead.  I'm sarcastic by nature.  Anyone who knows me well, knows that sarcasm is my second language.  I love making posts that poke fun at the stuff that I have done through the week or that have happened to me in the past.  I love sharing with everyone the stupid shit I have done and I love reading other peoples examples of stupid shit they have done. 
 

Facebook got too crowded. You know, when you have all of these people on your friends list that it's too much drama to delete so you kind of censor yourself.  Believe it or not, that's what I tend to do.  My blog became an outlet for me.  I found myself writing negative status updates all the time, so I would sit down, write everything into a post and while I wouldn't always immediately feel better, it did help. 
 

In summary I created this blog for myself first, then the more I became confident in my writing, I started writing it to include YOU, the reader.  I love the community that a Blog creates and love getting to know all of my readers through comments.
 

Why did you start your Blog? Link up below and let me know.
Don't have a Blog? What's your outlet?

Beautiful? Who me?

I got massive surprise this afternoon when I logged on to see that Ann over at Help!! I'm Stuck!!   had tagged me in a super cool Beautiful Blogger Award.  So what does that mean? It means you lucky bastards get to find out cool interesting facts about me. Yep little ol' me.

This was my first thought when I had to think of something to say

 image here

I guess I should stop dicking around though and get to the important stuff.

1. Despite my tough exterior and my best efforts to not look all sissy. My favourite colour is pink.  There I said it.
2. My favourite movie of all time is Rocky Horror Picture Show. I could watch it over and over again.  Then once more just for good measure.
3. When I was in school I wanted to be a teacher. Now I am glad that I am not. My mum works in a school and the disrespect through stupid rules she gets is disgusting. It's something that I would really struggle with. Especially having to watch that I don't hug a child who is upset for fear of retribution.
4. I'm supposed to wear glasses when I am on the computer or reading.  I'm too lazy to go get them so I just squint at the screen instead.
5. I am a notebook-a-holic. I love buying new notebooks, even if I don't have anything to write in them.  In fact today I bought 3 new ones.
6. I love looking at storage stuff. If I had my own house each room would have different kinds of shelves and cupboards.  I could go nuts in a storage store. Sadly my bank balance gets in the way.
7. I really struggled to think of 7 interesting facts so I asked a friend and her answer was just say you're awesome because that says it all haha

My latest notebook haul

Now for the fun part! I get to bestow the honour of Beautiful Blogger onto some other awesome peeps!

1. Good Golly Miss Holly 
2. Edenland 
3. Dear Baby G 
4. Random Ramblings of a SAHM 
5. MagnetooBoldtoo 
6. Where's My Glow 
7. Wanderlust 
8. Help!! I'm Stuck!! 
9. Parental Parody  
10. Woogsworld 
11. Confessions of a 30 Something Woman 
12. Cup of Tea and A Blog 
13. Love Life and Hiccups 
14. What's in Emma's Brain 
15. The Things I'd Tell You 

No pressure to join in just thought it would be a bit of fun on a Friday afternoon. Enjoy your weekend!

Up to my ears in shit and piss

Welcome again to the weekly fuck you that is FFS Friday.  I really love writing this post because it gives me an excuse to be a great big whinger.  Oh and I can't forge that it also gives me the chance to laugh at others expense!
 

I decided to be all resourceful and do a meal plan. You know to save money and shit.  Every time I decide to do that, I then decide that cooking is for losers and don't feel like making all of the things that I have meal planned.  I'm sure it's my inner rebel trying to make a last ditch fight for freedom.  All I know is that I still have a fridge full of food that I mostly haven't used. FFS
 

This week we started Toilet Training with Devil Spawn.  The first couple of days were good and I was feeling positive.  Devil Spawn obviously cottoned on that this shit was for keeps and decided on Sunday that he just didn't want to do it anymore.  I asked him to go to the toilet and his response was 'I did, the floor is toilet'.  Cue me telling him no he was a big boy and he needed to do his wee in the toilet.  His response: 'I not a big boy, I a dinosaur grrr'. Sorry buddy but even Dinosaurs have to use the bathroom in this house FFS
 

Devil Spawn goes to Daycare on Monday and Tuesdays so I can go sleep and lunch with the ladies.  Monday I took him in his little jocks (seriously how damn cute are little jocks) and let the girls know that he was toilet training.  I was pretty apprehensive after our dinosour episode the day before but I figured they were trained and shit so should be able to handle it.  I got there in the afternoon and he had no accidents! No FFS
 

Tuesday however was a different story.  I got to daycare and he'd had two accidents (not too bad for a guy just getting the gist of this toilet business) and they had put a nappy on him.  He still had a bag full of jocks and shorts so I have no idea why he was in a nappy. It kind of defeats the purpose of him learning and they were adamant they would be happy to have him toilet train. A little consistency would be nice FFS
 

Devil Spawn now has new ammo to add to his reportoire of sleep dodging techniques.  Coming out and telling me he needs to do a wee wee.  I can't very well tell him to just do it in his nappy because well that defeats the purpose and the crafty little bugger knows it.  So off with the pyjamas and nappy and sitting on the toilet while he fucks around wasting precious time that I could be spending on Facebook and eating things I've been hiding from him all day so I don't have to share FFS.
 

The first 3 days of toilet training were spent with me telling Dyllan that his penis going in the toilet not pointing up.  So he would then ask me what I meant complete with actions.  This would then result in piss going everywhere and Devil Spawn acting like a giggling school girl FFS
 

Tuesday night I got all excited when Devil Spawn did a number 2 on the toilet.  I got all excited right up to the point when I walked into the bathroom.  Devil Spawn had decided to get all resourceful and wipe his own arse. With my towel FFS
 

That's my week of whinging in a nutshell.  What's pissed you off this week? Let me know in the comments. For some comedic relief head over to Dear Baby G to read everyone's additions to FFS Friday.

Say it like you mean it

Edenland

This week is all about saying sorry...for anything and everything.

I'm sorry that I was in to the too hard basket.  I'm sorry that you're easy fix didn't work.  I'm sorry that I push anyone away who gets too close.  I'm sorry that I still think about hurting myself even though you think I shouldn't.

I'm sorry that sitting on the couch staring into space is easier.  I am sorry that I yell more than I talk.  I'm sorry that you just want a hug and I push you away. I'm sorry that the DVD player plays with you more than I do.  I'm sorry that I don't have the energy to do anything about it.  

I'm sorry I was so difficult. I'm sorry that I kicked, screamed and scratched just to not being your presence.  I'm sorry that I caused you so much pain.  I'm sorry I wasn't perfect. I'm sorry I gave up to easy.  I'm sorry I didn't try harder.

I'm sorry I screwed up..that I continued to screw up even when I knew the right way.  I'm sorry that I am more scared to live than I am to die.

I'm sorry.

FFS Friday 20th January 2012

Here we are again.  It's the verbal diarrhoea known as FFS Friday.  It is quite possibly my favourite time of the week because I get to ranty rant and it's the norm :)

This week the weather has been insane! I wish it would just make up it's mind.  On Sunday we were in jumpers and tracksuit pants (oh so glamorous) and right now I am naked and still sweating!  FFS

I bought Mini Man a new lunch box on Tuesday for $13, opened the Kmart catalogue this morning and the same lunch box is in there for $9.  This happens every single time. FFS

My house looks like a bomb has hit it.  Every. Single. Day FFS

I told my psychiatrist that I am not really coping with my son and don't feel a great deal for him emotionally.  His response? To tell me he thinks it might be time to discharge from the Mental Health Service. FFS

After I specifically told them not to, Daycare let Mini Man have a sleep.  He stayed up until 3am! I am not paying these people for him to sleep away the afternoon FFS

When I got to Daycare they were playing tag in the play area.  Did I mention that it's been stinking hot here?  They had no drink bottles with them, or access to drink fountains.  Did I mention it's been stinking hot here? Mini Man's first word to me? Drink! He proceeded to drink 400ml of water in the space of 10 minutes.  When I rang to complain, they assured me that he had been given water.  Bullshit FFS

The welfare system in this country, most of the time sucks balls.  So many innocent children are suffering needlessly because of an overworked, underfunded system.  These are innocent lives we are dealing with FFS

This week I started 'eating healthy' and I am failing miserably and old habits are dying hard.  FFS


Make sure to head over to Dear Baby G and show some comment love or if you feel like having a ranty rant, then go ahead and link up your post.


Happy Friday!

FFS Friday 16th December 2011

Sarah over at Dear Baby G writes a post each Friday about what pissed her off during the week.  This week I decided to join in on the fun.

This week I had an appointment with my case manager.  She turned up this time....40 minutes early.  I had no pants on and had to do a mad dash to go and get changed FFS.

I scour the web for 'inspired' meals for Mini Man and I.  I then slave over the stove and almost use every pot and pan I own.  If it is especially exotic I have to go out and buy new utensils or dishes.  He is happy to eat a whole loaf of garlic bread...from dominos FFS

For the third week in a row Major Man's son and his kids have come over during the only time that we really get time together during the week.  They sit around and drink piss while I have to deal with the 3 kids trashing my house.  Two out of the three weeks I have fed them.  Major Man is then an arse to deal with because he's drunk FFS

Shopping centers really need moron tests.  If you don't pass you can't come back for a month.  If you fail 3 times in a row then you are banned for life.  If you have ever spent extended periods of time in a shopping centre or work in retail I am sure you can sympathise with that.  Engage the brain before you step outside the door people.  FFS

What is with the arse hanging out of bottom of shorts fashion and why are 12 year olds indulging in it? You can't go anywhere without your eyes being assaulted from all directions by arse cheeks.  Cover up, I don't want to see your arse FFS

This woman enough said FFS

I could go on like this all day but we've all got to know when to call it quits.  Have fun and remember 'it's illegal to kill stupid people' no matter how tempting it is.

The waiting game

It's 40 minutes until my mental health case manager gets here.  The house doesn't look like a complete bomb site at least.  I don't know what to say.  How do you really describe the inner turmoil and have it validated?  How do you describe it so that they understand?

I just don't know where to start.  I just let it spill out last night to Major Man.  My post yesterday wasn't completely accurate.  I don't like Mini Man to go to daycare because I don't like him, its because I don't like the person that I am becoming and the more time he can spend with happy people the better.  If that means that he has to go to daycare then so be it. If that means that at the end of the day that mummy is a happier person then screw what anyone else thinks.

If I can spill this all on here for 'everyone' then why can't I say it to the people who 'matter' you ask.  Its because I have to look at them, its because I have to see them again.  Sometimes its easier to just dump and run.  Its harder to face facts.  Its harder to admit that even though everyone thinks you are doing so great that its not the truth.  To say to someone 'hey I need help here'.  I just don't want to bother anyone.  I just don't want to be the 'broken' one anymore.  I don't want to let anyone down.