stolen moments.

We all have these hidden away in the very farthest corners of our memory. Those times that we can't forget, those passing moments that once warmed our soul, gone but never forgotten times.
What are these moments ?
 The kiss that stopped time just for those few seconds, when the world faded away and it was just the two of you.
A smile that lights up a face, a laugh that fills your soul with warmth.That first touch that takes your breath away and leaves you shaken. The memory of how two hands would fit together, fingers entwined . Those walks you would take together, sometimes silent, sometimes talking of things that now no longer matter. The way you would stop and watch the view and hold each other . How your head would fit in the hollow on their chest and you would lie there listening to their heart as you went to sleep.

They used to be who you were, but now you keep them locked away in your mind. You know they are there a constant reminder of what once was. That once you didn't think you could live without these things, these people who caused so many emotions. Because with these memories comes the forgotten feelings, the love, the sorrow, the heart break, that feeling of loss.

Put them back into that box, shut the lid, take a breath. There was a time when you couldn't breath without them but now somehow you do. You draw a breath, you carry on but you never forget.

Christmas Bloody Christmas

It's the most wonderful time of the year or so we are lead to believe if we listen to the song that has been stuck in my head since mid november.
The grim truth is i hate it and everything it stands for. The gluttony , the greed , the sprouts, crap so called christmas films that should fill you with a sense of zombie like happiness. They don't they are just bad films that are thrown at us at the same time every year and  labeled christmas classics.
Then there is family. Those wonderful folks that you spend the vast proportion of the year avoiding like the absolute plague and here they are all flatulent from sprouts wearing the stupidest paper hats and in your LIVING ROOM  and your expected to play board games with them.
There was a christmas not so long ago when for a split second while cutting carrots, i did toy with the idea of cutting off a finger and spending christmas day at the hospital. For those few magical moments i was happy in my day dream.
Sadly this time of year is fast approaching with all the enthusiasm of a chocolate smeared toddler who has just filled his nappy. How do i know this you may wonder.
Well it's the little things that give it away.
Firstly it's getting cold there is talk of snow.
Secondly the adverts have taken on their own air of desperation and forced happiness. So now they are even more awful than usual.
Thirdly some social net working sights seem to be filled with people putting up pictures of the christmas tree the symbol of the first of many arguments in the household over this period. I don't want to see them . I have zero interest in the fact that all your lights are working and you have morphed your frontroom into another santa's grotto.
So this year as with every other year i can think of i will refuse to send out the cards , i will grudgingly buy the minimum amount of gifts. If i get pressured into it i may grumpily throw a tree somewhere ( i got one already decorated ) and i will spend the rest of this time reminding people who really should know better to not bother me with anything even vaguely seasonal. I don't want cards i will send back gifts i would like to be left alone on my own so i can have the perfect non christmas for me.

Identity.

If i died tomorrow who would remember me ?

How would i be remembered?

What have i achieved ?

Who am i ?

Have i actually done anything or have the last nearly 40 years been just a mass of wasted opportunities and bad choices ?

If i lost everything tomorrow what would i actually loose ?

These questions maybe horribly morbid but for some time now they have haunted me.I'm no longer sure what my life is, what i am supposed to do , what i'm here for. I'm drifting deeper into a hole. Sometimes i see myself and think i don't know you. This isn't me. I'm not who i was. I had plans. I had things to say, now i'm not so sure.

Anyone reading this will most probably tell me to get a grip. After all i have my kids, I'm in a relationship. I should be happy, content, but something is missing. In having these things i have lost a sense of myself..

Before i drown in my own self wallowing, I have a question.

HOW MANY OTHER PEOPLE OUT THERE FEEL THIS WAY??

Yes there are those lucky ones out there that are happy and content with themselves and their lies. They have everything they want right now.They can sit and look about them and say " Yes i have everything i want and life is good."

What about the rest ? What about the people who catch a glance of themselves in a mirror and just for that split second wonder if that is it. The people who look at what they have and wonder " is this it?"
"Is this what my life is like ?"
"Is this what i chose?"
"Is this who i chose to be ?"
The people out there who don't know who they are inside.

Or is it just me ??

just a blog

my life is a station platform on which i stand and watch the trains of lives gone by as they pass through it. The memories of stolen moments, the regrets of what could have been and never really was. People i have known and lost and miss with every passing day. And now i stand alone the cloak that numbs me pulled close and tucked under my chin as the wind whistles heralding another train another chapter.Will this be the train that takes me away from my thoughts to that rock where i can sit and not feel. So i can take off my cloak and throw it to the sea and watching as the waves take it and pull it under. Will this be the train that free's me?

who what where when and why the fuck ..... answers on a postcard please

Well here we are again . Another month another blog . Felt i should write something although i'm not sure what to say or where to start.
Ok so the music has gone on i am now ignoring the world for a moment. When i say the world what i mean is i can't write this when there are people talking to me about other things that don't belong here in my mind. After all this blog is for my thoughts. So rambling aside and lets get this done.
I've been doing a whole lot of thinking and not a whole lot of doing. i have lost my edge. i checked under the bed, down the side of the sofa. The odd missing poster went up and was quickly blown down again. Sometimes life gets in the way of well everything . And i'm rambling again because i dont know where this is going and what it will achieve if anything.
I remember a year ago what i was like. I cared less about what i thought and just said what was on my mine. Now i seem to take everyone else's feelings into account and sit on my hands. I am conscious of the fact that i have let people down that matter while pandering to the ones that only want me around when i can do something for them. i should really learn shouldnt i well at my age blah blah blah and all that. i have lost myself  maybe i just fell down a big hole. any personality i had is lost in a man trap and now i'm just horribly boring .
Mid life crisis anyone ?
maybe i should just have my nipples pierced and a big tattoo of bollocks in block capitals across my shoulder blades and maybe shave my head and have done with it.
Oh i could give up ok it sounds like i am , but i can't. after all i am the glue that keeps pants palace together . That's right just call me prit stick trust me i have been called worse. so on wards it is. i will valiantly look for my personality, my wit, my creativity amongst the washing and the ironing pile. Maybe it's hiding with the dust bunnies or at the bottom of the freezer with the frozen peas. If anyone finds it before i do it will probably tell you exactly what it thinks make you laugh and then swear a bit. if it does all of that it's mine and i would like it back once you've had your fun with it. Being prit stick isn't much fun without it .

a little spam bot poem i think we can all relate to

Hello little spam bot,
I do not want your things,
Your penis pumps,
Your plumbing tools,
Or your nipple rings.
I will not click your little links,
I am a hack free zone.
So to my little spam bot friends,
Go find another home.

this thing they call insomnia

So when all normal people with normal sleeping patterns are erm well sleeping, i am awake. It's nearly five in the morning and tonight i have met with my old friend insomnia. A chance encounter, sometimes i go weeks without the pleasure of her company but tonight she felt the need to visit me.
I was tired and achy when i dragged my body to bed. That was four hours ago. For the first hour i tried to get comfortable. I may have even drifted off to sleep for about twenty minutes before i was woken again by twitching legs. So here i am. Stupid thing is half an hour ago i was sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark with my eyes closed thinking yes i am now tired enough to go back to sleep. Then as soon as i lay my little self down again PING my brain woke up.
It ran through all the things i have to do tomorrow. Then it went from that to all the unpaid bills that will need paying and to the fact that i badly need a haircut but cant afford one. Then it did the all time classic insomnia trick of running through all the conversations that you should have had with people but never did.. Ok that was it . Do i lay here with sleeping man beside me, one leg out from under the duvet the other leg doing the Irish jig ? or do i say sod this and get up? I got up, first making sure said man was very asleep. So now for the rest of the night till dawn breaks i will enjoy the silence of the downstairs punctuated by the neighbor who has been banned from smoking inside his house and now feels the need to sit and smoke and cough on his front door step and the hamster on its wheel. I will also be drinking coffee and feeling grumpy and wanting to kick something.
But that is better than laying in bed beside sleeping person and watching the ceiling while your legs go mad and your brain does somersaults

until next time.

the pants have left the building..