Sunday, 11 September 2011

Tuesday the 11th of September

On Tuesday the 11th of September 2001 I was thirteen and I was sat in a fourth period history lesson at high school. People say you will always remember where you were on that day. I remember another teacher from the next door lesson rushing in to whisper in my ancient teachers ear. He looked sick and he nodded and declared we were about to see a horrible event in history happen. They merged the two classes , the resource tv was switched on and tuned in fuzzily to BBC1 and forty 13 year olds watched in real time , people dying. At first it was hard to make sense of what was happening the coverage only included the desperate confused punctuations of our news readers and the footage was that of the first hand held amateur footage . At that time , I know now , as we were watching that footage the towers had already started to collapse. School was dismissed at lunch time that day and I watched the news all afternoon and all night . And empathetic grief hit me for the first time in my life . Britain lost 67 people in the total but we felt every single body that was not ours.


I watched the recovery obsessively amazed how relentless the rescue workers were but it wasn't until I was twenty one and my mother took me to New York City for the first time to the church set up in memoriam did the recovery effort fully hit me. I saw the pile of police badges from around the world sent in support a pile topped , with a north Cumbrian police force dress helmet. And I was proud that England and America could be bonded for another reason than war. The most moving thing I saw there was In a corner . The sight rolled my stomach and stung my eyes and has effected me profoundly since . It was a pile of empty Vick's Vapour Rub tubs as high as I am tall . I watched the recovery effort removed , years ago and I wished I could give back the now understanding that the recovery volunteers were exhausted and unable to scour the smell of death from their nose. I once watched an episode of CSI Vegas and the was a clip of Catherine saying that the first time a living human body comes in contact of that of a decomposed one it is impossible to rid yourself of the smell. That the molecules burn into your nostrils and its impossible to scrub out. Those men and women slept with the smell of the people they were looking for in their beds. It then occurred to me that everything that was still covered in dust (because , at that time , it was , years on) was covered in potential particles of body.


Every year since then bar this year , in late September I happen to have been in New York City . Either on holiday or being there after work . I'm drawn to ground zero , to sit a couple of hours , marvel at the rebuilding at the resilience of that city , already formidable , made amazing by the strength to rebuild and carry on and still remember . I work in rural Pennsylvania In a place that looks just like where the fourth plane fell if not three hours away. Its hard to associate America ten years on with what happened to it and the world that day. Trying to imagine a plane ploughing into that green wet earth is as hard as trying to imagine it crashing into the valley in Wayne county where I work. Then It happened in England , on so smaller a scale but amplified by the fact the people that attacked us , where people born and raised as one of us. And it stung equally that a U.K citizen , from my home county would move against us and aim to kill and maim in the name of something we fight so vehemently against. It still sickens me with the thought.


What is Important to remember today of all days is how far we came in ten years. The western world defined our selves in our response to the attack on us. And how we helped others. The man who orchestrated the attack on us was held accountable and eradicated from a planet that does not need his evil in it. Despite what ever your opinion on the war In the middle east , no one can dispute the war on terrorism or the good things that have happened because of it. Millions of people have died both guilty and innocent , but now girls are allowed an education in the middle east and women are allowed a say in their future. People are allowed the freedom of speech that we take for granted and no longer live in fear of what a regime might do to them. At home we have picked up the pieces and moved on, despite 9/11 , the London tube bombings and Lockerbie. We are working tirelessly to bring the men responsible to account . Well aware that other radicals will replace them. What is happening currently in Libya is a perfect example . A man that will be hunted relentlessly for what he did to the world and a nation that are now free and without fear. I , we are lucky to be of a nationality where we can take that for granted, say what we please and be as equals despite sex . I'm proud that our countries would help others to the same freedoms and I am reminded that's why people feel the need to attack us.

Thursday, 1 September 2011

me and my friends decided this is what I need :

Wanted:

Male. Preferably over thirty , own income , Single ( No hidden spouse) Preferably American/Canadian would accept UK : Geordie /Brummie/ Irish . Dark hair , green eyes, attractive . Grey shade sleeves and Beards are a plus. Average hieght . Stocky. Not fat. No steriod heads . Must be open to the prospect of children. Good at what he does , passionate about what he likes. Good In bed. Odd sense of humour , caring . No neurotics .

Time wasters need not apply.

You see this guy , send him my way ?

Sunday, 31 July 2011

Heartbreak Hotel and other such priestly colloquialisms

Well I guess you're aware of the fact that I got left behind again . He didn't love me and actually just hated who I was as a person apparently . He could have just got in line behind myself. I guess I don't want to talk about the situation anymore. I guess it just helped me realize quite a few things in the process . You can't escape being lonely , yup I could share my body with him or with any other randomer but It's still going to get me last thing at night. I can't change who I am , I wish I could because it would be a hell of a lot easier to be someone else . Unfortunately i can only get my head around being me . Who apparently Is a crazy , mean bitch . Maybe if people looked past the crazy harder and decided I was worth the effort they'd see how fucking hard I try.

I've never done less than a hundred percent by every guy I have been with. I've been the model girlfriend and put up with their shit and neglected mine. Mainly because If I'm focused on someone else then I'm distracted from the mess inside my head and more recently my heart.

My heart cheated on me . It should have been the reason I got dumped other than being crazy and mean. Because before , where I was able to give a hundred percent I wasn't able to commit myself fully to him this last time . Not because there was anything wrong with him . I couldn't believe my luck when someone as smart and as handsome and as kind as the boy decided I was worth the effort. I was so fucking happy whilst I was with him and I lived everyday (rightly) fearing he'd decide I was too much hassle. I felt guilty from at least two months in because I felt a void in the feelings I should have because I knew and kept denying that the void was a missing piece of me that might forever belong to someone else. I guess I'll never get over the American . I really did my best by the boy I worked hard on not keeping tabs on the American , pretending he existed I even wrote him and told him not to contact me in anyway shape or form so I could work on getting that part back. And yet it remained blank , a void , a guilty secret I was trying desperately tried to path over in the hope that the boy would regain the last bit of unheld ground. I knew I felt very deeply for him but he just wasn't him. I worry alot I worry that there is 'A One' And the American was it and then I flip it and worry that If 'The one' still is out there that by the time we meet I'll have had so many chunks torn out of me there will be nothing left to give him. I placate myself in the mean time telling myself that there is no 'one' just chances , that for me go missed and sometimes finally , Theres no such thing as any kind of 'one' and I stupidly did not treat men with enough contempt before. I surely believe it's my own stupidity that has got me so hurt so many times. It's alot to untangle in my head amongst the voice of my depressive self and the reality of what is actually happening now stuck in there too.

What if for instance that my theory of missed chances is right ? What if My old ex was just something I took too far ? That we should have dated for a few years and called it a day instead of getting engaged and making me miserable for years after that? What if the American was simply not my 'one' because of a ten year time lapse in which he never knew that I existed led a life and got married before I collided into him? What if the boy wasn't the one because we just were ignoring the fact we were completely incompatible ? And really just not suited to being together?

What is this constant obsession with my search for the one ? I'm not a fluffy cutesy girl who is waiting naively to put my virginity on the line with Mr right . I'm into Mr Right Now's , I have and do enjoy sharing myself with someone who I do not wish to keep In anyway shape or form. So why do I keep coming across men I can picture as the father of my children ? And stupidly keep working on relationships that suck and dont go anywhere when I could be having fun and not getting hurt ?

At the moment the American ensures for the immediate future I will hump and dump men and keep them at arms length which is fun but again leaves me just as lonely as I was single. I loved him harder than anyone , we challenged each other to our very limits and survived it time and time again. I had met my match in him anything I could do he could do ten times better. We made each other better , bigger and I felt how strong he felt for me I realed because I never expected anyone to except for me to be capable of feeling that strong. He was passionate and inspiring my cheerleader and my worst enemy rolled into one and he made me feel like there was no other greater force than me. How do you go about reclaiming that piece of yourself ? Or is possesion nine tenths of the law ? does he get keeps on it ? And If that is the case do I bother finding this elusive 'one' because already , I'm not a complete set. Is this my fault for opening up my heart too many times already ? I have no idea what the bloody answers are but there are too fucking many questions.