Some days sweet like honey, some days tart like Marmite..

Something vague.

Bit of controversy.

"Challenging" an already well-established truth.

Something a bit left-wing.

Fighting a cause already fought and won.

Something celebrity-related.

A contradiction.

Naivety.

Odd statement about something unrelated to my life, my circle of friends, my circumstances or, actually, anything to do with me.

Judgement. More judgement.

Do this, don't do that. Or else.

Something "political".

A bit of pop culture.

Ignorance.

ENOUGH.

I'm glad I agreed to see a counsellor when I was 16, even if I felt I was giving in to my Dad's diagnosis of my mental illness. She was not very helpful, but she was a stepping stone.

I am so glad I arranged to see a counsellor when I was 17 and 18, while at college. She helped me so much. She gave me clarity that helped me to deal with my Dad's mental illness. She had faith in me.

I'm glad I saw a counsellor during my gap year when I was 19. She helped me make the difficult transition into work, and overcome some insecurities and the fall-out from Jean's death.

Together with my doctor, that counsellor also explained to me why anti-depressants were a good idea for me. She did away with the stigma. She explained that sometimes we just need that helping hand in climbing out of the darkness. She challenged the ridiculous, naive and ignorant reaction from my then-boyfriend to my Prozac prescription. I am so glad for both of these professionals who educated and helped me.

I am glad the anti-depressants did their job so brilliantly and helped me leave an environment which was making me very unhappy (Uni). I am glad that I alone made the decision to stop taking them, that I did it overnight and did not reduce the dose gradually, that I suffered no side effects and my doctor was happy with the decision.

I am so incredibly grateful that my sister and Beck remained so supportive throughout my disastrous first year of Uni. That they remained impartial, offering advice only when I asked for it, that they had experience and perspectives that proved invaluable.

I am grateful that I was advised to give up milk.

I am so happy that I saw a counsellor at Uni. Somebody who made me see truths formerly hidden to me, helped me to make incredibly difficult decisions in my personal life.

I am grateful that my tutor at Uni has made herself so approachable that she knows things about my life that some of my closest friends do not. She has been repeatedly supportive throughout everything with my alcoholic father and my poor damaged bladder. She has never been judgemental, only ever a shoulder to cry on.

I am grateful that I had the strength of character to take control of my own healthcare, doing my very best with doctors which were unresponsive to my needs and finally seeking out the right person to ask for help.

I am grateful to the very bottom of my heart for every single time I have asked for help, every time I have made myself vulnerable and walked into the office of a stranger, every text I have sent at 2am, every number I dialled, every time I told a secret or openly doubted myself. Every single tiny time. Because if I hadn't, I would not be the happy, if slightly aimless, person I am today. I don't think I was weak, I don't think I asked for anything I could have done without and I certainly don't think I would have been a better person for dismissing anybody who could have tried to help me - had I only given them a chance.

It was an interesting week.
It was so hard adjusting from children who need and rely on me to children who don't want anyone and won't accept any help whether they need it or not. It was hard having little to no authority over them. It was hard being told to fuck off, piss off, being called a pedo.
It was good working with the "Don't go mental at them unless they really deserve it" mentality which is something I firmly believe works with kids. There is no point being on their backs about every little thing they do - you have to appreciate the fact that they are bored, they are restless, they have ADD or ADHD, they need to sing, or fiddle with something or needlessly move something from one end of the room to another. Just give them a minute, let them get it out of their system and they will return to task without you even needing to say a word. The ones that don't? That's a different story. And realising that NOTHING works with them is disheartening. You can threaten, compromise, bribe, provide incentives - it just doesn't matter. It won't work.
It's refreshing to work with staff who I actually agree with. Speaking of staff, they are brilliant. Never worked in a better staff environment. The sense of humour, the banter, the way they just cope with everything, it's so good. There are four other boys working as TAs there from my agency so that was lovely too, getting to know proper colleagues and feeling not quite so alone in the staffroom.

It's made me question a lot of things, and made me realise how much I need to grow. I think I'm capable. God knows I want to be.

Possibly going to Woking this weekend for Danny Lee's 21st. This will involve camping I think. Not mad keen on that idea. I just want a lie in and preferably to bake a pie.

We have made the move! Me and Matt are now here together in this house on our own. Amy and Nick have moved their things in but El isn't coming until the end of August. The area is horrible and there is a kids playground out the back of the house which I find infuriating. It will probably be easier when I am not spending all day with kids too.
I worked all week in Britannia class, my favourite. We were off timetable which was lovely and so good for our kids who had lots of lovely time out of their wheelchairs. We were rehearsing for the summer show, and our performance was America from West Side Story. The song has only recently stopped playing non-stop in my head. Relief.
Starting tomorrow I am in a different school for children with emotional and behavioural difficulties. I have been warned on how to deal with inappropriate language and behaviour. This will be a learning curve for me. I am both extremely anxious and quite excited. I am so relieved to be pre-booked for work. Hate getting a phone call in the morning. I need to know what's coming and have the knowledge that there IS work coming and thus, there IS money coming. Money is a worry lately.

Went to see 8 Out of 10 Cats being recorded on Thursday, was brilliant. Sean Lock still my favourite person ever, and Rhod Gilbert redeemed himself. Patrick Kielty is an absolute idiot.

I have a very lovely rosey duvet cover from Tesco. I have a very ridiculous and temperamental car. I have a small but almost adequate room. I have a very painful cough. Really looking forward to the end of term.

I might just die of moving house related causes at any point right now.
Gosh. Tired. Hot. Hot. Hot. Aching. Stop me?
Most of the bags are packed. There is all the kitchen stuff that needs to be wrapped and tidied. There is the entire house to be cleaned. There is everything to be taken from Matt's house to Margate Road and then my house to Margate Road. All of which can only be done tomorrow, Monday evening and Tuesday evening as I am working full time next week. And of course, there is the entire house to be cleaned because God forbid anyone else would bother. Kayleigh. Oh my God Kayleigh. Comes in here today with her absolutely venemous mother, making snide comments. "Is there any particular reason they're keeping the pizza boxes, Kayleigh?" "Apparently for recycling, but no one ever puts it out." Fuck off Kayleigh! Try rephrasing that with YOU not ever bothering to put it out, or, in fact, do any fucking thing at all. We put it out fortnightly, and the rubbish weekly. So fuck you. And please tell me why you have left your room with a full bin in it? And why you have left all your cutlery for us to throw out? Why you insisted on having your half-a-job Dad to put up a new curtain rail and then pissed off with it when you left so that there are now no curtains? And WHY you fucked off with all MY storage boxes? Enough.

We went to Wales. It was lovely. Haydn was exhausting. Me and Matt agreed that one and a half days was enough. Matt did really well with him and the whole family. We felt comfortable there together for the first time. It was really good. Encouraging. And we cleaned and hoovered my new car! Before driving it back to Pomp via Bristol for Banksy exhibition. I could say more about that, but I will try to summise: I like him. He is imaginitive and funny. His attempts at being overly contraversial I find tiring and adolescent. Get me the art critic. What do I even know about anything?

Can't wait to see the back of 85a Fawcett Road. And pyscho Sam who reached new levels lately by being over-the-top mental (by which I mean taking to sleeping in Danny Lee's old bed with her witch doll - and more). Feeling anxious about my new house. It has highs and lows. Like anywhere I guess. I'm sure it will feel better once all my stuff is in it and my friends too.
Landlord remains hilarious.

Had two horrible days at work week before last which reduced me to tears both days. Some days I am just not strong enough. You just never expect to be spoken to like that. Not again.

My specialist appointment. Lovely consultant. Told me I needed to come off my tablets so I can be properly diagnosed and tested. Very unwilling. Will do it, but refuse to let it interfere with work, summer holiday and holiday to Chicago. So. October.

I have very little tolerance right now. It might improve. Or it may be a turning point.

David Gray is a nice man. With nice songs. One of which I want played at my funeral. Morbid? Realistic? I want the ink stains to come out of my duvet cover. I want people to pay me back the money they owe me. I am being patient, but really. It's about £550 in total.

Writing this seems farcical a lot of the time now. I just want to be sarcastic. But it's time to let go. Time to appreciate the good things, the things that don't needlessly wind me up.

I am in Portsmouth. I am, for the most part, very happy. I have been working a lot, but oddly really enjoying it. It is completely exhausting and I have been in a class with five profoundly disabled children all week. They are wonderful and the staff are lovely. But I don't need to tell you how physically and emotionally demanding it has been. It makes me think back to two years ago, when I'd cry at the end of the day. I've come far. It's encouraging.
I overheard the teacher of my class in the staff room the other day. She was saying how hard it had been this week without Jackie (who I am covering) and how slow it was and how they were struggling. I began to feel disheartened. Then she said "But Jess is brilliant. I am so glad we have Jess." This meant so much more coming from the other end of a room she didn't even know I was in. She has asked that I cover all staff absences in her class until the end of term. I'm so pleased. I couldn't have asked for a better experience. I do my best there, I never stop running around. I'm glad.

We're moving in two weeks. Just down the road to Margate Road. Living closer to Somerstown is becoming more and more concerning as the days go by. It will be fine. We're looking forward to some peace, to some nice housemates, to a washing line and the comical landlord.

The tomatoes have tiny green fruit appearing. They have outgrown their supportive sticks and block a lot of light from the window.

Bladder still good. One off-day when I think I asked a little too much of it with a high amount of caffeine. It forgave me. Back to the doctor on Friday for more pills. Still no specialist appointment. Quietly relieved.

Can't wait till I pick up my car. Sooner the better. It's just shopping that is the main obstacle. Shouldn't be too long now. And will need it for moving house.

The Sims 3 is great. I miss the seasons already, and the wide range of job choices. But. Overall, I love it. The new choices of interaction are great. I love how my couple can thank each other for doing the cleaning or putting the bins out, or how they can compliment each other on their paintings and congratulate job promotions. It's more real. It's lovely. But. Snow please? Just a little rain? Some falling autumn leaves? Thanks.

Back to work tomorrow. Have worked enough days to pay my summer rent now, so the pressure is off a little :-) Relief.

I hope you are all safe.

I am a bit emotional tonight.
Over the last four days I have seen nine of my high school/college friends. They are amazing people. I don't know how we've done it. I don't know how we have gone from weedy first years with terrible fringes to adults with Masters Degrees and mortgages. Two of my friends have mortgages. Three of them have done/are doing Masters Degrees, and another applying for a Phd. One of them becoming a teacher, another a midwife, another a social worker. And honest to God I am so incredibly proud. How did I end up with such genuinely good and noble friends? I feel I owe myself some congratulations over my own vetting system.

I don't think we ever expected to get here. I know I certainly did not think I could cope with adulthood. But then that is growing up for you - it has a way of creeping up on you in a style that makes you not even realise. I am terrified of becoming a nurse even though it's something I really, really want. In a similar way to how I was terrified of Uni even though I wanted it. And now I'm there and it isn't scary in the slightest. It's tiring and frustrating and troublesome a lot of the time, but scary never. At least not yet.

It does make me think that perhaps I am more capable than I ever give myself credit for. And my friends really inspire me to try. That maybe, just maybe it is all really possible and attainable. I have so much admiration for ( all of them )

In other news the meds are working, as predicted. Bladder great. Side effects terrible. This is still a win though.

"Little things you said or did are part of me - They come out from time to time. Probably no one I know now would notice. But I never thought so much could change.."

Last night was really the final straw. I have never cried like that before. The pain hit at about 9pm and didn't subside until 6am when I finally fell asleep, although it came back at 8am and woke me up. I just...I am at a loss. Doctor is treating me for an Overactive Bladder, which I am sure I don't have. I do not have urge incontince, or any kind of incontince while we're on the subject. I would like to make that very clear to you all. The urge does not come suddenly and feel uncontrollable, it is there constantly and IS controllable in that sense that I will not wet myself. Once again for good measure: I am not fucking incontinent. I am 22. There is plenty of time for that in about 50 years. The fact that I have not responded in the slightest to the medication screams VOLUMES doesn't it?
He doesn't listen to me. I tried explaining that I am struggling with Uni work, he said "Don't they let you leave lectures for the toilet?" WHAT?! Have you never even spoken to me before? Did I imagine the last six times that I sat in your office and cried? Do you not understand the term "constant"? If I went to the toilet everytime I needed a wee I wouldn't leave the bastard bathroom. It has nothing to do with leaving lectures, it has everything to do with not being able to physically walk to them on bad days, everything to do with sleepless or at the very least disturbed nights, everything to do with the most intense embarassing agony I cannot even put it into words and EVERYTHING to do with not being able to think about anything anything anything else other than how desperate I am. Does anybody understand? Really?

How I have managed to write 10,000 words in the last three weeks I can't even comprehend. Although being bed-ridden has benefited as I have had nothin else to do. Also the quality of the work will be testament to nothing.

I am going to see a female doctor on Friday because I believe the similarites in our anatomy will get me further than they did with my male doctor. Even though the last time I saw her she told me I had an allergy to soap. Which I don't. There is something wrong with my bladder, with the very phsyical condition of my bladder, I can tell you that and I don't even have a degree, nevermind a medical one. Please please please fix me. I can't honestly stand this. I feel as though it is becoming more and more a psychological condition the more depressed, downhearted and desperate I become. Please do not let it manifest as something that it really needn't be. Please help me.

It is probably about time that I updated. Over a month is quite a while.
My life is just revolving around my bladder right now, which is pretty sad but that's just the way it is. My bladder condition got diagnosed and treated in January and I was without pain for three amazing months and then it came back with avengeance a few days after Easter. I don't know why. The doctor doesn't know why. But it has been a lot worse than ever before. The medication has been doubled and will be changed completely on Thursday if there is still no progress. I know that I am tiring out my beautiful, patient boyfriend. I wish I wasn't.

I have had literally 6 essays to write, a presentation to give and an exam to prepare for. It has been really, really difficult. Quite simply because trying to concentrate on anything is very hard when your brain will not stop telling you that you need a wee. Even though your brain also tells you that you cannot possibly need to go again. There are only so many parts of my brain that I can listen to at one time and sadly, the part trying to tell me about the feminist approach to segregated schooling barely gets a look in. I have 4 essays left to do and still the exam. I am very close to not caring anymore and just going to sleep for the next two weeks, goodness knows I really feel like I could sleep for that long without waking.

So I am just concentrating on each day as it comes right now. I have made seven hot water bottles today just trying to get comfortable. Honestly, if I could find the man who invented hot water bottles and kiss him I would. I have just wikipedia'd it and found out his name was Slavoljub Eduard Penkala and he died in 1922. I will have to kiss him on the other side. He also invented the mechanical pencil and somewhat ironically died of pneumonia. Of course, this could all be utter rubbish because my source is Wikipedia.

In other news...no, nothing.

I have been listening to a lot of Something Corporate lately. Just like the old days. It is awesome. Well, they are a bit awful, but there is an angst in there that I am fond of.

Speaking of the old days, I went to watch the Uni wind band tonight and was transported back to high school orchestra. It was amazing! Well, they were pretty crap. But that is why I loved them, because they were so happy and I remember being that happy once upon a time! When I was 12 and I started to play the saxophone because Lindsey did. And I was terrible and Shallcross knew it, but tolerated me. When I got better and we played the music for silent movies and we were actually good. When Shallcross had left and Queen Edwards took over and I was 15, Sam was my best friend and Charlotte still spoke to me. Ella used to come and play her cornet and was absolutely wonderfully terrible. I sat at the back with Gethin and ate sweets and we laughed at each other's mistakes and got lost when the rests were too long for us to count accurately. I LOVED orchestra. I used to look forward to it! I used to be sad when it was over. I really want to feel that happy about something again, I want to look forward to one thing in my week.
Choir sucks my soul. After Easter I am joining wind band. After May, I am leaving choir. This is a good decision.

I would quite like Matt to come home now.
I would quite like to not be working tomorrow.

I am looking forward to going bowling with Ame, Kee and Linso tomorrow night after choir. And giving Easter eggs. And also Danny Field is home from the army on Friday! Whoop. I hope he doesn't talk about Dave. Ugh.

Some of the decisions I have made in my life are just fucking ridiculous.

I am repeatedly terrified that I'm doing the wrong degree. That I don't know where I'm headed. That I actually do not want to be doing the work I am doing right now. That I don't want to and basically cannot work with young children. That I want to be a nurse but seriously doubt that I could ever "handle" it. That any position of significant responsibility terrifies me. I do not know how I am supposed to figure this out. And really, I know I should be feeling like there is all the time in the world to make my decisions, but I feel in such a rush to decide, so that I know where I'm heading and feel secure in my decisions. I want to use my degree, my knowledge, my intelligence. I do not want to graduate and end up doing a job that I do not need to be qualified for just because I am too scared to do anything harder. But I am actually pretty scared that that will actually happen.

I do not want to be a carer, a childminder, a playworker, a social worker, a teacher, a teaching assistant, an educational pyschologist, an occupational therapist, a careers adviser, a youth probation officer, a nursery nurse, an early years practitioner of ANY variety.

I want to work with young people, young adults. People trying so hard to figure out who they are that they lose sight of what they could be. I want to challenge media ideas of "perfection" that breed the increasing rates of eating disorders. I want to fight the stigma surrounding mental illness and educate young people on what it actually means, for them, for everyday people that suffer in everyday ways without even acknowledging it. I want to address issues of self-harm and self-abuse, I want to help teenagers understand why they go through these things, how they deal with the constant confusion and complete overwhelming circumstances that drive them to these extremes. I want to help young people who have been affected by mental illness within their families, their peer groups. I want to enable young people to have the strength and the knowledge to seek help and advice for themselves and people around them, to ensure that they do not take on roles for which they are not, and should not be, ready for. I want to educate, to empower.

I entirely do not see the point of my degree. I should have cut out the middle man and gone straight to nursing.

...just uncontrollably annoyed and wishing I wasn't. Jealous or frustrated, I'm not sure.
...absolutely just tired. I cannot do these early mornings and mindnumbing lectures.
...like I do not want to work tomorrow but very much wanting and needing the money.
...relieved that after viewing six apalling houses, me, Amy and Nicki finally found one we liked! Number 22 Margate Road is now ours from mid-June onwards. I will miss Playfair Road. It's the best of all the roads.
...already entirely overwhelmed by my dissertation before I've even started it. My mind changes and wanders off in different directions everytime I even start trying to plan it. I need focus and direction.
...like I also severely lack focus and direction in terms of my career and have no idea where I am headed or indeed, how I am ever likely to find my way there.
...tremendously lucky for Lindsey, Amy and Keeley. Real true friends, the types you can share anything with and you know it will be okay. The ones that chase you around the kitchen with Dairylea, that make plans with you, that chat utter rubbish with you and are happy to do so. But. The ones that give you time alone and would never resent it. These are the best friends and I am amazed I have actually three right here with me every day of my life in this huge city that I didn't even know until 18 months ago. I never thought it would happen.
...fond of Southsea. Its little streets, tramlines, churches, high street and of course sea front and common. It's one of the most beautiful places on a sunny day.
...quite upset that I can't live with Keeley next year for reasons out of my control. I will really miss her so much.

And this is really all that is in my heart tonight.

I should have updated before. But sadly I had all of the intention and none of the time.
I'm here now.

My house was sold just over a week ago. Officially, finally and completely sold. I have very mixed feelings about the whole thing. Relief that it's over, that I never have to go there again, that Mum doesn't have to pay the pointless and expensive and unfair mortgage anymore. Anger that Dad let it disintergrate to the level that it did, that responsibility fell to people it should not have fallen to because of his laziness, that tears were shed and voices raised entirely unecessarily. Sadness that I ended up completely despising the house I was born in, the place I should have been safe in, but ultimately was not. I am annoyed with myself for being so blinded right now that I cannot remember the happiness. I know it existed, in strained measures sometimes, but there were sleepovers, siblings, cats, autumn, sledging, making toffee apples. It was there. Amongst the chronically awful Christmasses, the domestic violence, the days where Dad couldn't get out of bed, the walking-on-egg-shells.

I know it was never the safe place it should have been, even from long before I was born. And it's gone now. It's time for me to start making a nest of my own somewhere. (Probably not in my Hell-hole of a student house though.)

Tomorrow is Red Nose Day. I can't stand that day. I told work I was unavailable because I couldn't bear to be in school on this day. I find pretty much the whole concept of Comic Relief pretty offensive, or at least I would if I was one of the people the money was being raised for. I hate the blatant celebrity career relaunches, the forced participation, just the utter attitude of it all. It's less about raising awareness and more about pissing about for one day of the year in your pyjamas.
The Comic Relief episode of The Office sums it up beautifully for me..

[on Comic Relief]
Tim: Don't get me wrong, I've got nothing against this sort of thing. It's a good cause, but I just don't want to have to join in with someone else's idea of wackiness, okay? It's the wackiness I can't stand. It's like, you see someone outside Asda collecting for cancer research because they've been personally affected by it, or whatever, I dunno, an old bloke selling poppies, there's a dignity about that. A real quiet dignity.
[in the background, a gang including Brent and Gareth wrestle a colleague to the ground and expose his genitals to the camera]
Tim: And that's what today's about, isn't it? Dignity. Always dignity.

I have a lot more to share than just my thoughts on Comic Relief, and that will come in time. It will.

Portsmouth has the bluest skies..



This was taken on Saturday on my way back from a cake shop by the common that I went to with Kate and Maricar. I had orange cake and it was good. The whole weekend was good. Peaceful. Played some Lego Batman, went on some walks, planted some tomato seeds.

( Pancake day ) was also fun. Made some with Amy and Kee on the day, then made crepes suzette with Matt last night.

I have been feeling genuinely homesick lately, which is an emotion I haven't had for over two years so it's a bit strange. It is perhaps because I'm getting about 17 texts a day from Mum asking if I want to keep my Wombles, what should she do with all the Enid Blyton books, do I want my Sunday School things? What about that tea set? etc, etc.
For the most part, my answers are "no" because I don't have the space, it seems absurd to hang onto pictures I can't even remember making, Mum doesn't have the space... But I don't want to throw it all away, an entire childhood is represented in those things, and even if they do have to go, I feel as if I should be the one who throws them.

So I'm going home tonight until Sunday and I am happy about it.

Rocks:
Dawson Creek whole entire boxset for my birthday!
Plus these: Spongebob socks (Kee), necklace (Lins & Dan), robot socks (Danny F), a picnic hamper, a grow your own tomato plant set, Wendy Cope poetry (all Matt - and the Dawson's Creek), Jason Mraz album (Pol & Beck), home-made knitted loveliness (Caity Caits).
Having TWO birthday cakes! Made by Keeley and her boyfriend.
Dancing with my boyfriend on my 22nd birthday.
A sit-down, eat-in curry at 2am with everyone.
Guinness. Woweeeee. Also Grolsch and Cobra. Yum.
Boiled eggs and soldiers for brecwast.
Hot cross buns with real dairy butter. To be enjoyed and then regretted. But ya'd still do it again.
Freeeeeeeeee screenings with Linski to see Confessions of a Shopaholic!
Reading. And having loads of new books to read.

Sucks:
Jobs. Stupid jobs people. I am so quitting that job in Fareham. They can shove it up their arse. Repeatedly. They are AWFUL. Not content with losing all of my ID documents last October they have now lost all my bank details! Fucking ridiculous. And they're sending me on a bastard course I have to get a ferry for. Sod it. Really.
Kayleigh. Having to organise covert missions just to go the cinema because God forbid Kayleigh find out and go mental.
The refurbished phone they sent me having a broken volume button. GRRR.
University. I hate my units a lot. Well. Three of them, the jury is still out on the fourth - Disability, Stigma and Social Life. The Sociology-run units are usually good, so it might actually be fine. But Working With Children and Young People? Repetitive. Gender and Education? Obvious. Me? Self-righteous, clearly.
Feeling homesick for the first time in about three years.
Not being at all ready for March.
Planning a dissertation I have no interest in doing.
Househunting. Yuck, yuck and thrice yuck.

P.S - and most importantly of all.

Friday is mine and Matt's One Year Anniversary. And oh what a year.
It all started when the loos in the union ran out of toilet roll so he went into the boys for me and got some.

True story. And, I think you'll agree, they don't get much more bloody romantic than loo roll in a student union.

It's been a week and a bit of:

Snow. Work. Tears. Doubt. London. Singing. Hothothot baths. Bad health. Anger. Frustration. The Sound of Music. Expense - financially, emotionally, physically. Autism. Jam tarts. Love.

We had snow, it was incredibly beautiful and lovely. But Porstmouth ruined it with its very nature of being huge and encompassing. I worked at a local school one day so I had the pleasure of wandering through it before cars and people came and turned it to mud and water. Work that day was pretty awful, apart from one tiny beautiful autistic twin who was perhaps the most amazing child I've ever had the chance to meet.
And then some tears, and choir, and another day of work in a different school and going to see Oklahoma with Maricar and Kate, and then tears and tears and tears. And London. And meeting Matt's Dad who showed us around the Home Office and actually being myself and realising that was okay.

The Sound of Music!

Cinema. Restaurants. Genuine happiness. Thank goodness.

Back to Portsmouth. Lectures. Ugh. Save me please. Semester two shaping up to be about as wank as semester one. Visiting Pol and Beck! Making jam tarts, eating Welsh rarebits, playing Lego Star Wars (running around in circles and jumping up in the air mostly - classic hilarity), laughing, watching Doctors. Sleeping (wow). Back to Portsmouth. Yuck. Work today - more autism. Older this time, more firmer grips when they squeeze your arms in frustration, longer nails when they dig their hands into yours, more pain when they headbutt you entirely accidentally. Beautiful eyes. Thinking of the money, the experience, growing as a person. Yeah whatever.
Choir. Kate-love. George-annoyance. Singing loud and clear and with gay abandon. Because. Really. Why not? Croak that top A even if it kills you - and it might when your fellow sopranos give you dagger eyes.

Tonight. LOVE LOVE LOVE for Amy and Keeley. My house saviours. Girls who I love and I do mean **LOVE** An hour on the phone to my wonderful Ella Young and all the laughter and idiotic random tangets we have so perfected.

Tomorrow. Lectures. Seminars. Mind-numbing hours of feeling frustrated that I am not doing anything with my life, that I don't have enough friends (how many is enough anyway?), that I should be doing about a million and seven things differently. And of course....the surprise birthday party thrown by the one housemate that is making mine, Amy and Keeley's lives something pretty miserable right now. And the reason I know about this 'surprise'? Amy and Keeley told me. Because they know how much I hate the idea. How much I do not want to be in debt to that girl right now. How much I do not want to stand there and say "Thank you" for doing something that you are only doing to win brownie points and tell your Mum about in a fashion something like this - "Well...well...I threw her a birthday party and made her friends come and everything and she still keeps putting tea towels in the washing machine! GOD! I don't know what I'm supposed to do!" - typically delivered at ridiculously loud volumes on the phone in the hope that one of us three overhears and feels shit about it. That little game is being played FAR too often at the moment. And God forbid you actually do confront her and tell her you are pissed off and upset and offended and taken for granted and ignored and discounted, because then she will start crying and this will happen "Oh...sob...but I'm just...it's so...I just have so much on right now!" in a kind of Louise-from-Hollyoaks style. So fed up with this girl right now. Really not in the mood for everyone to think she's some kind of saint-cum-best-friend-of-the-year when they are seeing a side of her personality which is not even genuine.
Thank goodness for Amy and Keeley.

And Friday. My birthday. A day I refuse to work even though I know they will phone me tomorrow and try to get me to. No! Friday is my day, the day I happily turn 22 and don't look back. Bring it on.

Have I forgotten anything? Oh I got a replacement phone. It's driving me fucking mental.

I still love Ben Folds more than anything in the world. And. I like to read.

I left my memory card in Wales after Christmas so I can only just upload these. Enjoy!

( A Prince-Machin-Morris-Stubbs Combo Christmas. )

So I am in Wales.
It's okay. It really is. I am trying hard not to get wound up by things and we do have a shower (but it is quite cold) and I have it on good (well, Mum's) authority that I'm getting curtains tomorrow! Wow-ee.
I'm only here till Sunday anyway, which is really near. And whatever, it will be good. I will make it so.

The new upstairs shower room is really nice. And Hadyn's room is lovely too.

I have finished all my horrible essays. I did the last one really badly but I don't care. I got my case study back from last term and got 68%, I practically had a nervous breakdown over that piece of work, and for what?
No more lecs till the 9th now, yipee. Then I am only in two days a week? Ridiculous degree course.

I have a sat nav. It is bloody amazing. I can put mp3s and videos on it and everything! And I can even get to places with it. Hopefully. Tomorrow it is getting to me to Rhian's house - yay!

I found my memory card so I will be able to finally put Xmas photos up and that. Good. Bye.

I actually have no life right now. My days are just essaysexamsessaysessaysessays. Essays.

Ridiculous pointless essays which don't even mean anything and don't help anyone or enrich anything or make me any kind of better person. They are just words on a screen taken from another screen and duly accredited. They don't mean anything to me.

I have really been quite down lately. But there have been ups and that is what I should remember.

I have loved the 5p bags of chocolate coins from Superdrug.
Late night blueberry muffin making - they are more blueberry than muffin but I am okay with that.
Work. As a TA in a special needs school. This has been good for me. It's been something worthwhile, and God knows I need the money. Work also at two Saturday clubs. One was a nightmare, the second was really quite fun. I don't know. The clubs are only every other weekend which I think I can put up.
FREE cinema screenings of AMAZING films. Namely, Milk. Milk is one of the best films I have ever seen. I was lucky to see it for free but I would have paid. It is so good, I really recommend that you see it. I saw it about two weeks ago and I'm still talking about it.
Next week we have two free screenings in one night! That will be a bit of overload I think. But I am still excited for it.
Matt got a load of vouchers at Christmas for free Krispy Kremes too so we have been having a high time of it when it comes to free things! This boy is a whiz with the vouchers. And I am a whiz with the free screenings :-D
And, perhaps the most exciting of all my news, next year I am living with Ella Young!! And Amy-Jayne and her friend Nicki. But Ella Young! She is moving to Pompey, mostly through her not really being sure what else she would do instead and also because she loves me and otherwise I would be a bit homeless. Well, not. But miserable. Me and Ame went to look at a house last night but it was crap. We have to keep it pretty quiet because we haven't talked to Kayleigh about it, we can't live with her again though, it's been too hard and too unfair.

I'm going home on Wednesday just for a few days to help Mumma out with the old house and settling Hadyn and everything. Then I come back and have nothing to do for a week (except hopefully getting some more work) and then we go to London for the weekend and then semester two starts on the 9th and then it's my biiiiiiiiiiiiiiirthday and anniversaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaary.

I'm going to watch House.. Even though I should really be considering in what ways play is essential to the life of a child and vital to their development.

So I have tonsillitis again. Quite fed up.
My ear's been hurting a bit for over a week but it reached unbearable levels of pain today. The doctor said "Ooh what a whopper!" about the largest of my swollen glands. So I'm on the antibiotics. He's also started me on other tablets for the other thing. He said to try it for a month, see how it goes.. I hope it goes well.

I have my first sign language exam on Monday. I am going to fail. I haven't been able to get out of bed for 3 days and that has been detrimental to the effort.

Best of 2008:
- Party: My 21st Birthday Party! I don't say this enough or perhaps even at all - My 21st birthday was the happiest day of my life. Honestly.
- Show: Oh my oh my. Gavin and Stacey.
- New show: Arrested Development! So much love.
- Comeback show: Your mum.
- Reality show: No thanks.
- TV moment: This is a daft question.
- CD: Oh it has to be The Wombats.
- Song: Shine - David Gray
- Movie: Juno. Not for quality, but for sentiment.
- Video game: Lego Indiana Jones! Also have been loving Bully a lot. Even though I am worse than awful at it.
- Experience: Pisa perhaps.
- Concert: Well The Hollways was ruined by idiot aunties. So it would have to be Black Kids which weren't even that good but were still funfunfun.
- Book: So. I've read two books this year. Terrible effort I know. I will put final Harry Potter here, even though I have big problems with it, it was more exciting than Dave Gorman's latest attempt.
- Month: February
- Day: Easy peasy - 13th Feb.

Hopes for 2009:
- Predict something that you think will happen in 2007?: I will move out of this mouse infested hate-hole.
- What do you hope changes about your country?: I just wish shops would stop shutting. Where-oh-where am I going to buy Pez now Woolies is closed? And don't say Topshop because £17(ish) for a tube of sweets is taking the piss, even with student discount.
- What do you hope for yourself?: I need confidence and belief.
- What do you hope for your family?: Finalised selling of house for Mumma and also that the fostering goes all ticketty-boo, and that the building work is soon finished at Mum's so that brother can have a life again, I want Pol and Beck to have The Best Civil Partnership Ceremony Ever.

During 2008:
1. Where were you when it began: Co. Durham
2. Did you stay up: I dunno. Think I fell asleep.
3. What was your new year wish: I honestly don't know.
4. How many boy/girlfriends: 2
5. Broke up: Once.
6. Have any crushes: Yes.
7. Care to mention names: Only Matthew. And still Adam Levine and a tiny bit Russel Howard.
8. New friends: Kiwi! The unexpectedly wonderful housemate who I didn't really know before I moved in with her but it turns out she is brillo! Also Harry cos he is fab.
9. Had to say goodbye: Yes I suppose.
10. Missed anyone: Just the friends who I don't see enough of. And the people no longer here.
11. Win anything: Hmm. I'd like to say yes. But unfortch I can't.
12. Best place you went to: Pisa was really lovely.
13. Worst place you went to: Spainspainspainspainspain.
14. Happiest moment: Well that would have to be birthday, but also cudding with Dylan, Rosie Cait and Ella visiting, that day at the river, Matt's first visit to Wales.
15. How was your birthday: Oh we've covered this!! Bloody amazing thanks very much.

So.

Portsmouth. Coldcoldcoldcold. It's worse than Wales. It's not. But it's bad and it's student housing which is shoddy and ridiculous.

Speakng of spectacular student house experiences Amy opened one of our empty kitchen cupboards this evening to find a load of dead mice. The mice men had put poison in there. It looks like some kind of massacre. One of the mice is in half. Unless it's two halves of two different mice. I didn't investigate. It proves that mice are stupid though. After the first, say, three, had gone in there and snuffed it after eating that "lovely smelling brown stuff" why didn't the fourth stop and think twice? Or the fifth. And perhaps sixth depending on the earlier two halves of a whole or remains of two discussion.
Mice are idiots. I've not trying to suggest they should have rationalised the situation because obviously they're mice, they can't. But survival of the fittest suggests that they'd at least acknowledge a few dead family members as a sign of danger, surely?
I'm phoning the mice men tomorrow. I'm refusing to hoover out the Cupboard of Death and Kee and Ame won't do it. We haven't told Kayleigh - she'd actually freak out and lock herself in her room I think.

I met Matt's family. I'd love to tell you how that went. If only I knew.
I think his Mum likes me. Her best friend has an autistic son and I think we bonded over that. Her best friend said I was "lovely" - I think we bonded over her autistic son :-/
Unfortunately the rest of his family didn't have any special needs related areas of interest so it was a bit more tricky. Adam, the difficult middle child, is in the Army. He runs everywhere and smokes. I made a tit of myself by hitting my head on his car. The best I can hope for with Ads is that he thought I was "Yeah, alright." To be honest I didn't really warm to his oldest brother Wayne although his girlfriend was nice. I doubt they thought much of me. But when you sit me amongst five people sharing experiences and stories I was never a part of you can't expect me to contribute much to the conversation. So I probably did come across as quiet, boring, maybe even stuck up.
It made me understand some of the experiences I've put Matt through, and that was worth it.

His Dad. We talked a lot. I actually thought we were getting on quite well. He works in the police force and has had a lot of experience working in child protection and with social services. So there was room for sharing there. He asked me if I could ski, if I liked canoeing, white water rafting, mountain trekking. All answers there are no, in case you had any doubt. Later I would be told that Matt's Dad blames the breakdown of his marriage on his Mum's dislike of activity hobbies. Such as skiing, canoeing, white water rafting. And mountain trekking. He told Matt never to marry a woman who has no affection for these areas of life.

I hate parents. I hate his. I hate mine. I probably even hate yours.
Except I don't. But you know where I'm coming from. I am tired of trying to flaunt the most loveliest and happiest parts of my personality, trying to make intelligent conversation, trying to take interest in people who clearly can't be bothered to do the same with me, tiredtiredtired. I wouldn't mind if it wasn't just fucking pointless anyway because it doesn't matter what you say or what you do, you're not a member of the bastard Ramblers Association and therefore you are fucked before you even shake his bastard hand. I give up. Oh and, apparently, going canoeing once or twice with your mates and mostly just falling in the river and getting stuck on rocks doesn't count for anything. That's just nitpicking.

I have more to say. I have a lot of ranting about that place I got a job with. They are just shit for about seven different reasons and seven is a lot of different things to be shit at. I am working the next three Saturdays. Although where and what time I couldn't tell you because that is the first of the seven reasons.

Sigh. Deep breath. Count to ten and all that. Drink barley water it might improve your health. And pigs might fly across the bastard moon. I'm going back to the doctors this week. There were a few occasions over Christmas where I thought I might actually impale myself on the Christmas tree just to feel a variation on the pain. I don't know how four doctors, one hospital visit and I've actually lost count of the number of tests can still end up here. I think it's because no one actually cares. I want a dedicated team. Let's be honest - I want House.

I love Ben Folds.

I'm looking ahead now. Three weeks lecture free. Fingers crossed visiting Rhian and Dan. Change of timetable with Semester 2. Birthday. Anniversary (London style!). Visiting Ella Young. More barley water. Bloody party animal, that's me.

So. I'm going to have another crack at this.

I worked Christmas Eve. I had Jack and the twins for 4 hours while their parents did last minute shopping. Oh my life I have never seen children like it. These kids believe in Papa Noel big time, there is not a shred of doubt in their minds. It's beautiful. It doesn't feel weird or uncomfortable or unfair to "lie" to them, it feels like you're giving them something. And you are. Joy. Hope. Belief. Frankly, a childhood.
They were looking at a website which was "tracking" Santa via satellite. They told me he started off at 4am in Japan. By the time I got there he was around the Mongolia area. Every five minutes they'd run upstairs to check where he was and shout "He's moved! He's in Papa New Guinea!" They loved the photos of the different cities Santa was visiting. They couldn't get over the Christmas Islands being hot and sunny. They couldn't understand that at all.
We made colourful paper chains with colour patterns that showed me they are growing up. We made an M&S Make Your Own Christmas Tree. We listened to Christmas music. We played Pokemon on the Wii. I understood none of it.
It made me realise a lot of things about Christmas, about children, about myself.

At 11.30pm me, Mum, Pol and Beck went to midnight mass at the church down the road. Beck did an incredible job singing the alto parts all on her own and me and Pol did a....job singing some of the descants. We certainly bloody made an impression that's for sure.

I hung my stocking on the door. It wasn't the same one in the morning, but at least I got to hang one.

At Christmas dinner we had musical crackers. Minus the actual music. There were eight whistles, two each between me, Pol, Beck and Sam. The three of them did a rendition of Jingle Bells which was just about recognisable, before all four of us nailed Little Donkey. I have video footage. It's hilarious and mostly awful. But it was fun.

And today. Conversations with my boys.
Jack: Jess if you met the real Doctor Who what would you say?
Jess: I dunno. Just have a chat prob'ly. What would you do?
Jack: Dunno.
Tom: I think I'd just have a chat with him too.
Jess: Yeah ask if he'd seen any aliens lately..
Tom: ..whatever happened to K9..
Jess: ..if he ever saw Tom Baker around..
Tom: ..if we could have a look in the Tardis..

Just mindless banter. I love it. I never thought I wanted to see them grow up, but they are actually getting more and more fun as they develop their own proper senses of humour. They are lovely twins.

They ask about Matt. They love Matt. They love him because he talks to them about Pokemon and he plays the silliest games with them. They painted him egg cups for his birthday. They want to know when they can see him again. They want to know if he likes ice cream. (He does).

I've had enough though. And honestly, I know I say this a lot, but...I can't do it anymore. I've worked with that family for three years and I am starting to find it disheartening and upsetting. Jack freaked out today. He wanted to watch a DVD in the living room. Tom and Ben wanted to play their new game on the Wii. Jack has a DVD player in his room so the agreement was that me and him go and watch the DVD in his room whilst the twins play in the living room. Is that unreasonable? It is not. Well. You should have seen him. Full temper tantrum. This child is 12. He should not be hitting and screaming when he doesn't get his own way. That should have been dealt with when he was a toddler. Clearly it wasn't. So. He kicked his brother. And I kicked off. I really shouted at him. I told him it was unacceptable to hurt his brothers. I told him I was very, very angry and I didn't want to speak to him. He remained screaming. I told him to go to his room until he could apologise. He refused. I told him to go to his room a little louder. He went. And we endured two hours of his screaming and banging the doors. He repeatedly shouted "I HATE YOU JESS!" I felt really awful. It was very much like that awful day in Abergavenny when he basically did all of that but in public and in front of his Mum. Terrible day. Anyway. I maintain that I dealt with it in the right way. I wasn't nasty, I was firm and I was fair. I get so angry that the twins miss out on so much because Jack is such a bastard when he doesn't get his own way. I fully admit it's an awful lot easier to just let him have what he wants just so you avoid the horrible shouting, the violence and the swearing. It's so upsetting for everyone. But letting him get away with it means that Tom and Ben don't end up having what they want and what they need and I really hate that. All I can hope for from this journey is that one day they can say they remember me as someone who tried for them. Someone who really wanted to protect them. If that is all that comes from this, I will actually be content. I can make no long term progress with Jack because I'm fighting alone.

So. Phew. Tomorrow I journey to Biggin Hill. Don't really know where that is. Near Bromley. I am meeting the parents and the brothers. Quite terrified.

I have photos. And videos. I would upload them but my phone has broken again. This house is cursed. That reminds me though - if you text me, be sure to sign your name. I have four numbers in my address book.

I wish it hadn't have been the way it was. I wish it had been more like fake Christmas than real Christmas.

The whole experience has made me think a lot about my family. I have been driven mad by my Mum on a number of occasions. She treats me like an idiot sometimes. My cousins came over last night and Mum went and fucking introduced me to my cousin Molly. As if I hadn't gone to the hospital to meet her after she was born, as if I hadn't gone to her first birthday party and taken photos, as if I didn't send birthday presents. WHY DID SHE DO IT? She made me feel so incredibly stupid in front of so many people. That, combined with the fact that the only seat in her miniature sized house was on a stone floor by the door where I was two far away to talk to anyway made me just disappear. Everyone thought I was rude or annoyed or angry. Actually, honestly, I just felt humiliated. By my Mum. Again.

My brother knows exactly what to do to wind me up and I hate him for that. He will never understand that it takes me back to a time when I was small and I feared most things in my world. Not to mention just how tired I am by his relationship with Elin. The constant piss-taking and joking is unbearable. I hate how, in my absence, she has seemed to become some kind of third daughter. Right at this second her Sam and Mum are in the kitchen talking about me, me being ill and apparently how, when Pol is here, I am "always difficult" (I have some issues with that statement). I do not know this girl. I don't want her to know about me being ill or for you to speculate on my behaviour with her. As far as I'm concerned she has never earned that right. Aside from anything she is four years younger than me and so will never have the high ground in that way, even though she still acts as if she knows my brother better than I do, that she has more inside jokes with my Mum than I can ever hope to. I can't respect that behaviour. I've never had a problem with any of Sam's other girlfriends. I'm meeting Matt's family on Tuesday. I intend to make a much better impression than Elin has. Going in and fully respecting the already established relationships within the family will be the first step. I'll never claim to know Matt better than his family. How on earth could I? I was never there, I never shaped him into the adult he's become. In the same way that Elin never went what the three of us went through together, as siblings.

Maybe I do feel threatened, maybe that's it. Maybe I just feel frustrated and annoyed by this Netball captaining barely 18 year old. Maybe I'm jealous that I wasn't who she is when I was 18. Maybe I am just wrong about all of it. Or maybe not.

I need to get away from here. I can't help but feel damage has been done. I don't want to come back. I don't want to endure it, because that's what it feels like - just putting up with it until I don't have to anymore.

If the Christmas we get we deserve, I have clearly been a bastard all year.

So.

Last night was the weirdest. carol service. ever.

Don't get me wrong, the choir were lovely and the descants made me grin and my heart beat fast.

But. Err. The light displays? The absolutely bizarre sound effects that it made it sound like Doctor Who's tardis was about to appear at any moment? The incredibly embarrassing silences where audience looked at choir and choir looked at audience and no one did anything? No.

Best (worst) of all though? The Mrs-Rees-GCSE-Drama style monologues. Oh good grief. We had a sailor in the Navy. This boy literally screamed at the back of the church, ran down the stairs and proceeded to tell the congregation how he was angry at war for killing him and washing him up on a beach in Portsmouth. At the end he asked "Why are you here? Why am I here?"
The second was an Eastern European prostitue (dressed entirely for her character) animatedly shouting that she had to sell her body on the streets - "FOR SEX!!" At the end she asked "Will anyone help me? Will you? Why are you here? Why am I here?"
Followed by a German Jew who narrowly escaped being killed by a Nazi trooper. He asked "What would I say if I saw him again? Is he here? Is it you? Why am I here?"
And oh my life finally. The pregnant 'cockney'. "Awight? Me name's Mary. Me Mum 'ad me when she was 14 and I'm 16 wiv 2 weeks to go! Met a man tonight - nah not like that! 'E said to come 'ere, said I was expected - expecting more like!" I'll spare you. But she ended with "Why you all 'ere then, eh? Why am I 'ere?"

Can you imagine? You probably can't. You had to be there I think. I have a vague understanding of what they were trying to do, but it was too awful to be effective.
I'm glad my Mum couldn't make it. Someone representing the sex trade was perhaps too much for her to handle. Sheila Hancock did a reading. Which was nice.

And on we go.

We watched Miracle on 34th Street tonight. I made pasta bake and we watched it and it was good. As things so often are at the moment when Matt and I combine forces. Lately we've started reading when we go to bed. He reads his architecture books, I read Harry Potter. It's about as middle-aged and cute as it gets. We are happy.

Last night was the choir concert. I'd missed too many rehearsals to have any idea what I was supposed to be singing so I sat it out and helped sell tickets and man the door. They did really well. The after party was nice, I got to catch up with Kate, Maricar, Colin and Harry. Quite annoyed that I allowed myself 3 white wine spritzers but still woke at 7.30am and proceeded to throw up for 3 hours. Have been thinking for months that, on the whole, drinking alcohol sits very uncomfortably with me. But the odd celebration spritzer is hardly a binge. The decision's been made for me anyway - my body obviously can't hack it and I hate hurting it like that. So from now on it's the incredibly rare white wine with dinner only. I'll get back to you on the summer perry.

Carol service tomorrow which the choir is singing in, and I'm quite excited about it. It's just nice to do Christmassy things sometimes. I need to finish my shopping. Badly.

Wendy Cope is in my head so much lately. Her poetry makes absolutely everything so much better.

"I love you. I'm glad I exist."

So the case study is over and will be handed in tomorrow morning after my Play lecture. Yes I really do have a Unit entitled "Play". It's about as much fun as a train crash.

So my life can be un-paused now. I have a careers portfolio to be handed in by the 12th, but that is pretty wishy-washy as most careers orientated assignments always ever are in my experience. GCSE careers guidance? Useless. Sixth form careers guidance? Lacking.

Christmas! Didn't get to open my advent calendar yesterday because I was at Matt's, but he opened his. So I opened two doors today when I got home. They are Thorntons advent calendars. Mine has 'Matt' iced on it and his has 'Jess' iced on it. I know. We are soppy like that.

The fairy lights are going up in the living room tomorrow night. They would have gone up tonight but everyone was tired and busy. Got back at 9ish after sign language. We had mock exams. They were marginally disastrous. I need a lot of practice. But I am getting there. Wish I was still in school so I could be using it daily.

I went back to the doctor yesterday because I spent too much of the weekend crying into a hot water bottle like a weener. She was the 4th doctor I've seen. That was what made me burst into tears as soon as she said "So. What seems to be the problem?". Maybe this is the modern way. Maybe I got too comfortable at home where you are assigned your own doctor and God forbid you turn up on their day off because you can't see another doctor unless it's an emergency, alright? You'll have to come back tomorrow. It used to annoy me a bit when that happened because sometimes it was an emergency and you couldn't choose which day of the week your doctor had picked to spend on the golf course - you needed a doctor and you needed one that day. But now I realise they did that for our own good. I built up a relationship with my doctor. He knew about past issues and how they may impact on new ones. He knew about Dad. He knew me.

And so yesterday there I am looking at another different face with another new set of theories and suggestions. Although, I have to admit they have shown an incredible solidarity in ALL giving me the exact same advice week. after week. after week. after. week.

I sound so ungrateful. I am not. I am just tired and frustrated with a system that could so easily be improved.

So I'm trying another route of treatment, another theory. One that makes some sense and might just work. I need it to work. Everything has suffered. My relationship with Matt, my attendance and focus at Uni, my attendance and enjoyment at choir (you try standing still for 2 hours sight-reading and more desperate than you have ever, ever, ever been for a wee in your entire life), my handling of personal situations including those involving Dad and my tolerance of housemates. Although that last one has turned out to be a blessing in disguise because having had no energy to put up with the idiocy and immaturity I have peacefully settled into a natural attitude of "Actually, I don't care."

It can and will only get better.

I am so so so tired. I just can't seem to get enough sleep. Or the sleep I get actually does nothing. Feel honestly like I've taken steps backwards. Enough about that.

I have been staying at Matt's because I just can't be at that house right now. I have come to a mature place about the whole thing, and I have behaved in what I consider to be a really good way - but I am just counting the days until I don't have to live there anymore. And putting up with the fact that that is actually months.
It's not just a matter of housemates being housemates, it's a matter of friends clearly not being friends, and a huge matter of broken self esteem.

I have an assignment due for Wednesday. I am hating it. I hate all of my studies. This has been the only unit I have even barely enjoyed this term and so it frustrates me that I am struggling so much with the coursework. I would LOVE to be enjoying it. But I am not at all. I am so fed up of not looking forward to anything. Sign Language is the one saving grace, but that is hard work and the lecture is 6-9 which practically kills me. Even choir is a chore at the moment. The music is so hard and George has no patience.

I know this is pessimistic.

That is my prerogative.

The weekend with Rosie, Cait and Ella was really fun. There were board games (largely chaotic), cake-making, shopping, hot chocolate, Spinnaker Tower! (so. vertigo, dizzyness, nausea, etc), the theatre, photos, pizza, Indian food, laughter. It was a good weekend. It was so needed.

On Sunday I heard the bells from the church at the end of our road. I didn't recognise them - realised it was the first Sunday I'd actually spent at the house! Weekends are Jess and Matt times. He is away this weekend though, so I guess I'll be hearing those bells again. Maybe.

Term finishes two weeks tomorrow. That is such madness. Home for Christmas three weeks today. That's even madder - in many more different ways. Want to driiiiiiiiiiiiiiive. It's been too bloody long.

Does anybody have any beautiful music for me? By beautiful I mean Kate Rusby, Kate Walsh, Joni Mitchell - that kind of beautiful.

Not sure what to say. Not sure what I should be expected to say.

So I will say this:

Rosie, Caitlin and Ella are coming to stay this weekend. This is going to be lots and lots of fun. I am thankful for them.

Amy made my hot water bottle tonight. This was a lovely thing to do. I have a lot of pain in my right kidney and the heat soothes it a little.
Tomorrow I have blood tests and wait to hear my ultrasound scan appointment date. There is something going wrong inside my body and I desperately need it to be fixed.

Dad is in hospital in Aberystwyth. The doctors say that if his liver shows no sign of improvement he has weeks left to live. I am going to Wales on Friday with Pol and (hopefully) Beck.

This picture is important.

I need...
to tidy my room
to do some washing
to actually attend some of my pointless lectures
to start Christmas shopping
to stop buying magazines because of real life story titles such as "I had sex with a ghost"
to have an income again
to know what to do
to not have to worry about Wales
to have some answers as to why I need a wee absolutely every single second of every day at the moment. It is so. tiring. uncomfortable. embarrassing. distracting. tiring.

I honestly don't know what to say..
I can't believe it's happening again.
It's like my first attempt at Uni. Waiting to hear the kitchen being empty before I brave going in there, avoiding going to the bathroom so I don't have to leave my room, putting off coming back to the house for as long as possible. But this time it's because of someone who is supposed to be one of my friends.

We normally get a taxi together if we have 10am starts, otherwise we have to leave at 9.15 and we can't be bothered. Kayleigh claims it all back anyway. Kayleigh usually rings the taxi and shouts us when she's done that/it's here. This morning, I heard the front door slam whilst I was waiting in my room, and I went into Amy's room as hers is at the front of the house and I could look out of the window. I saw a taxi pull up, Kayleigh got in and it drove off. What the fuck? Who does that and why? As we'd thought we were getting a taxi we hadn't left enough time to walk so me and Amy had to call another one which was a faff because we didn't have any cash on us.
Arriving at the lecture, Kayleigh firstly blanks us then makes an annoyed head rise at me. So I ask, not confrontationally, "What happened this morning, Kay?" she snaps "What do you mean what happened?" "Well..you left without us?" "I shouted you and no one answered. I didn't have any minutes to phone you." Me and Amy exchange glances, both thinking "Well you phoned for the taxi, so.."

None of it makes any sense anyway. Granted Amy never hears you shout her, but I'm at the top of the stairs, about a metre from Kayleigh's room. I hear everything. Secondly, if she'd thought we were still in bed or not going, why would she be so automatically pissed off with us when we arrive? Why wasn't it "Oh, I thought you were still asleep!"? Why is us not hearing her shout something to piss her off?! Didn't fucking put her out, did it! She just got on with things without giving us a second thought.

I don't know why she has been so monumentally pissed off the last week but I know for a fact if I was annoyed with her and I'd called a taxi for myself I would grudgingly knock on her door and ask if she wanted to come too. Just to avoid making the situation even worse.

It's absolutely ruined the relationship. It's an appalling way to treat your housemates, never mind your friends.

When Amy got back Kayleigh had put three notes on the boiler saying "I'm sorry I can't say this to your face, but if you use my things can you please wash them up afterwards. Hope I don't offend." Well. You fucking have. Grow up.

This was an absolutely awful idea. People, for the vast majority, are wankers. I should live alone. I always knew she was going to be a bit of a nightmare, but I never thought she'd make it this personal.

I want to leave. So incredibly badly.

Yesterday was a lovely day.
Waking up with Matthew. Him leaving for his lecture.
A lovely cold winter day with cardigans and scarves.
Meeting him at gunwharf.
Watching Ghost Town, sharing a sausage roll and Aero bubbles.
Sorting out my teaching assistant stuff. Next Tuesday in Southampton. Cannot WAIT.
Making new friends at Sign Language class and learning loads of new words.

Yesterday was how I want my future to be - peaceful, doing work I love (nearly) and learning important things that make me a better person. All of these with Matt by my side.

Then I come home to Kayleigh being absolutely unnecessarily horrible to me and everything is crap again. I do not understand for the life of me WHY she does it.
She is so self righteous so much of the time and it upsets me because she acts so differently in reality! She very literally talks over me when I am speaking. She very clearly sees no importance in anything I am ever saying. What's the point?
I would rather have burnt toast in my cupboards. Maybe.

HalloWEEN puts me on edge.

I know that is ridiculous. It's even more absurd that it's actually getting worse with age.
Livejournal has changed it's toolbar to a weird blood kind of thing. It makes me feel bad inside to look at.

I tried watching Dead Set. I had to turn it off.

It is Lins' halloween party on Friday and I am just so nervous about it. I decided to go as a pumpkin so that I can make light of it and be silly and not scare myself. But there is no part of me that wants to go. I can't deal with the coloured contact lenses, fake blood, severed fingers, eyeballs, etc etc. It just upsets me. It's not the gore that makes me feel uncomfortable, it's the fear. I have never, ever understood this part of my culture where people enjoy getting scared. Blatant horror movies are a mystery to me. Those without storyline, without point, barely without script. I don't get it.
And that's Halloween essentially, isn't it? Let's get off on scaring each other stupid? It's not fun. It's just actually scary. I know it's all fake, I know there is nothing there to harm me, but I cannot help the way I feel.

I like the pumpkins and the sweets. That's about it. Cluedo's good too.

My I.D documents turned up. It took an entire week and a half of phoning everyday. Went from "Well we haven't posted them back to you. But I can't say for certain that they ever arrived." to "They definitely arrived. But we don't know where they are." and finally "They're still here. We'll pop them through your door later today."

It makes me not want to work for them a bit. Did I ever tell you I got the playworker job? Well I did. For that organisation ^ It is called Kids and it provides playgroups, nurseries, playschemes, youth groups etc for children with special needs and their families. I haven't started yet. But I will be working every other Saturday at two different clubs and I'm down for bank staff for the weekends inbetween and weeknight clubs too. So this is good. Although they have unimpressed me before I've even started working for them. But there you go.
Having now got my documents back it means I can sort out the teaching assistant position too which I really want to do, because I am far more keen to start that job than the one I've ended up going through hoops for.

Anyway.

Lately I feel lucky. Not just because I can now get entry into a club without having to practically sob all over my student I.D and look pleadingly at the bouncer.
I feel a lot lucky for Matthew. For our wasted weekends, our cooking, our plans. His care.
I feel lucky that I do not have to live with things that other people sadly do.
I feel a whole load lucky that Pol and Beck are only a short journey away and they are always there when I need them. I am lucky that I sleep so well there, that I feel so at 'home' (despite being cold all of the time).
I feel oddly lucky that my course is a total waste of time and not taxing in the slightest. Famous last words I hope not..

We have a mouse/some mice.

I have just had another huge bastard electric shock. On with the luck.

I am absolutely terrified that my driving licence, passport and birth certificate have been lost in the post. I sent them recorded delivery and they were only going to fucking Fareham.
How has this happened?

If this were Facebook I'd be saying: Jess wants to update, should update, needs to update...doesn't know what to update with.

Last week was a bad week. It was a bad week for illness, for housemates, for Uni.
Last week was a good week. It was a good week for seeing Ellen which was amazing and brilliant and fantastic all at once, for the boy buying me the cuddliest wool covered hot water bottle ever because he said I needed one to be kept at his house and he is actually pretty bloody amazing, for the sister's graduation, for the housemates.

This week however. Well.
This week has been:
white chocolate cravings (gleefully given into),
shopping for Rhian (late, I know, forgive me),
slowlyslowly getting better,
finally registering with a real surgery with real doctors (there's a rant there, believe me),
wondering if I could be a paediatric nurse (I want to find out),
drinking Lilt,
loving Harry for throwing me a printer cable during choir,
hating choir a bit,
loving Kate a lot,
catching moments of blissful solidarity without the 'mates,
cooking tea for me and Matthew (chicken, mash and green beans),
watching The Family,
having an equally unhappy family in this house,
realising things can't just be left in Wales and never again trouble me,
Scouting For Girls (loving this classic in particular, "It's Not About Elvis Not Being So Lovely Like I Wish James Bond Was"),
actually doing a bit of Uni work,
kicking my way home through fallen leaves! Just like Ella Young back in the good ol' coleg days,
contemplating and deciding against Le Sims.
accidentally locking Neil in. Neil needs to start paying bloody rent. And letting me know he's in the house before I go out so that I don't lock him in.

Why am I so listy lately?
Is it because lists are for cool people?
Is it because I just don't like paragraphs so much?
Is it because I just really, really want some Tizer?

My favourite exclamation lately is "Oh what is this fresh Hell!"
This reaction can be prompted by many different situations, including:
When there are snails in the bathroom.
When there is Amy's huge pasta in the sink hole. Again.
When I accidentally drink vodka lemonade that has been sitting in the kitchen since Sunday.
When another piece of wank mail flutters through the letter box.
When I fall out with the Virgin Media remote control for the millionth time this week.

I also quite enjoy a good "Lord above!" when someone leaves the lounge door open. Which they do all of the time.

Health permitting I am going to Londoo tomorrow with the boy and also to see Ellen! Wonderful. Then Pol's graduation on Saturday and Mummy and sense again. Please.

Another day, another electric shock.
Another week, another bout of cystitis.

This is my life right now. I had a shock on Sunday that made my arm and hand numb. I don't know what is wrong with me. I am about as unhappy as it gets.

Things that have made me and/or my housemates laugh a lot this week:

Sitting in the lounge doing impressions of Rihanna and Busta Rhymes with Ame and Kay.
Having the table collapse on me and Amy during our "family" meal.
The doorknob coming off in Amy's hand when she tried to leave the living room. This house is falling to pieces, I tell you.
Climbing over the cardboard boxes in the hall and hanging onto coat hooks just to get to the rubbish bags, then getting cramp.
Getting electirc shocks off just about everything metal I touch. I never had an electric shock in my life before Mum moved into that house and now I get them at least weekly. Mostly today.
Tucking my trousers into my socks hiker-style because this house is SO COLD. See eskimo Kayleigh below complete with woolen boots and hooded cardigan.

My housemates are talkers. Chatter chatter chatter all day. Amy invades my room a lot of the time and sometimes all three come in and discuss things at me. Sometimes I love this a lot, other times I need some silence and I don't know what to say.
Our cupboards are full and our saucepans remain mostly unpacked because we have nowhere to store them. Trips to Asda take hours, mainly because we just lose each other and spend a lot of time missing calls.
My room is a work in progress. There is not enough storage space and my bed is broken - both of these problems will be rectified by a new bed that has space underneath it. Fingers crossed.
I have a sexy black printer I am yet to check is actually functional, and a huge cream satin bedspread which I love an awful lot.
I miss Matt most of the time - that is, all of the time when he is not here or I am not there. To be honest, that is not an awful lot of time, as we are pretty bad at being apart. It is hard now that there are only a few streets between us. I escaped there yesterday when people had just talked at me all day and I felt like I might have cried if I didn't leave the house. Matt is calm and quiet and peace all in one. 97% of the time. The other 3% I don't have the energy for tonight.

I genuinely love the girls. They are caring and they are sweet and they always pay me back for the bills. I love the banter and the confusion and the Tuna wars. I love the planning, the noise at the other end of the corridor. I love the drama that follows Amy unfailingly throughout her life. I love her patience.

But oh my life, the constant stream of chatter is driving me into myself.

Classic quotes so far (this may become a weekly update):
Amy: Did you know, right, if you put a mouse trap out, a rat probably won't get caught in it?
Keeley: Tuna reminds me of cats.
Kayleigh: It tastes like bad peanuts!

Kay was perhaps talking about tequila. I am not sure, I was too busy putting wine in the freezer, somewhat unfathomably. That was Saturday night. Tonight after Asda, I opened my drawer and totally perplexed shouted "Who put wine in the freezer and WHY?" then suddenly realised that perhaps it was me.

I love Lindsey. A lot.

"With your beauty so precious and the seasons so fast."

David Gray's Shine is perhaps one of the most beautiful and heartbreaking songs ever. In my opinion.

I am having my last sleep in Wales for a verrrrry long time.
I am feeling all-sorts.
Not the confectionary. I hate liquorice.
I don't know what to say about this house anymore. It still feels all shades of wrong being here, but my room is a happy place. There are still no curtains.
It was also my last day of school today for potentially ever, as I have applied for a supply teaching assistant position in Portsmouth, so obviously if that works out I will not need to come home to work. I have also applied for a special needs Saturday Club. I have interviews for both of those next week.
I know he is only a kitten but I honest-to-God love Dylan a lot. He is so affectionate and I loved just curling up with him to watch Simpsons and Hollyoaks every evening. It was our routine and we liked it. I am gutted that he is going to be a big tiger when I next see him. I hope he will still cuddle me.

I am looking forward to moving properly into our pretty little terraced house.
I'm excited about joint-cooking and house nights out and having someone to watch soaps with.
I am happy that there will always be people to go and find if I am bored or I am lonely.
I look forward to Amy accidentally breaking my belongings and losing the TV remote.
I relish further meetings with our gardener John, the poshest gardener in the world.
I gleefully look forward to tying Keeley's pyjamas in knots and hiding cutlery around Kayleigh's room.
I hope for further bonding between mine and Matt's housemates.
I feel anxious about it being Dan, Danny and Jakes's final year, and thankful that it is not Matt's.
I so much hope that I do not struggle too badly financially.

I haven't really moved from this spot on the sofa since I clambered under a duvet on it last night. Mum's friend Ange stayed for the weekend so I was downgraded to the living room. I don't trust this sofa. It tries to swallow you. I don't know why but I woke up this morning with my liver hurting. Beth didn't help by being a weener scratching at the kitchen door all night. It's very sad how much Beth has changed since we moved.

I had an optician appointment last week and it was discovered that there's something weird in my right eye. They don't know what, so I'm being referred to a specialist. It will be nothing, I'm sure, but I just can't be arsed with any more doctors. I'm fairly certain if I walk into that surgery one more time they are going to brand me with hypochondria. And in order to be referred to a specialist I have to take a letter from the optician to the doctor. I always feel sad for opticians that they are just Mr's and Mrs', not Dr's, is it the same with opthamologists? What's the difference between an optician and an opthamologist? Is there one? I will ask all of these questions at my appointment.

Managed to beg and plead with my old computer yesterday to stay on long enough to transfer some photos across. The triplets had done weird things to it and it wouldn't work until I'd reinstalled the graphics card. Then it kept switching itself off randomly throughout, which was a bit annoying. But it is done. All the important photos are saved. The music isn't because I don't have enough sanity to sit there transfering 1gb at a time. Limewire here I come...

I'm going back to Pompey on Friday after my dentist appointment, ready to embark on Year 2.

Dylan gets bigger every day. He is a mad cat. He loves Hollyoaks.

I don't care how sunny it is right now, we both know it's going to be ridiculously cold tonight just like it has been every night this week.

And that makes me happy.

I love Autumn. Autumn plays by the rules. You know exactly what you're going to get with Autumn. It is no maverick. You know that some days will freeze your nose off and some days you will happily describe as "bracing". You know that there will be no unseasonal anomalies - no snow, no heatwaves. There may be gales, there may be torrential rain. But you will be prepared, because you know Autumn and Autumn knows you. You can be assured that socks are a necessity and there will not be one single day where you overdress because on waking it was pouring down and by midday you are choking on stifling heat - this will not happen. Autumn is not cruel. Unlike its cousin Summer who enjoys luring you out of the house in soft sunny pumps under a clear blue sky only to ensure they are ruined with rain and out of shape by the end of the day.

Autumn will wrap its foggy arms around you come nightfall. It will make streetlamps look like like fairies. It will require hot water bottles and green tea sipped slowly under blankets by bright fires. It will bring clarity and colour in abundance.

Alriiiiiiiiigh'?

This week I have mostly been hanging around children aged 3 - 6 with severe autism. It has been fun. Despite Henry's constant stamping, Alex's spitting, Millie's mouthfuls of Blu-tak, Hadyn's "accidents", Aaron's random violence and Tom's shreiking.

Well...

Seeing Ella last weekend was immense. Also saw Mamma Mia with Mum and Cait which was soooo good, then on the Sunday met Cait, El and Amy at the pub after work where we gossiped and Amy regaled repeatedly mental stories about people we didn't know but apparently should have cos "you know, his sister Louise, works in The George?" What? No.

Work has been shocking. Days of Julie in bed crying and Tom having nose bleeds and Jack throwing toy cars across the playroom. Thank God they are back in school now. Although school have called me in to do supply this week so I have no escape. Need the money though. Finding it really disheartening that having worked my arse off all summer I am still drowning in about 2/3 of my overdraft.

Went to Portsmouth on Wednesday for Matt's 21st on Thursday. It was the nicest few days. We went to London on the day and went to the IMAX and saw some dinosaur thing. There were A LOT of 3D dinosaurs getting "all up in my face". Then we went for dinner and onto the train home where we had chocolate fondue and watched TV.
On Friday we went to pick his keys up for the boys new flat. It was pissing it down. The flat is like a ward and I didn't like it much. But that wasn't aided by the fact that Sam is already in residence. The day before she had text him saying "I tried to rearrange your furniture and the desk and wardrobe collapsed." That was it, no hint of an apology. Why was she rearranging his room? God almighty. Anyway. He was stressing that it was going to be tiny, but actually it is fine, apart from the fact that the whole place makes me feel like I should be either ill, related to someone ill, or a medical professional.
We went back to my house and cuddled up hiding from the torrential rain and watching the Hey Arnold film. It was a good day. Saturday morning I found myself unable to stand through sheer pain. I took a hot water bottle to bed and fell asleep. Matt joined me at some point, and when we woke up we ordered pizza and watched King Kong.
Today was sad as parting days always are.

So my throat is back to the original state it was that one weekend in Portsmouth - that is, red raw and packed with puss. It's so incredibly painful.
Yesterday the doctor said there was no new strain of glandular fever, but whatever the problem was he thought it was viral. So whether or not I am run down to the extent that I'm struggling to keep creating anti-bodies for the original virus so things are flaring up, no one seems to be able to tell me. Even if it's a bacterial infection they are unwilling to give me antibiotics because of the thrush risk, and I'd definitely be unwilling to take them.
This is officially six weeks of varying degrees of very painful throats. I need it to end but I seem stuck.

...a software upgrade enabling your phone to provide you with music and podcasts the ENTIRE way home from Portsmouth without the battery dying. Love.
...lunch at The Goose with Danny just like the old days.
...fruit salad and The Inbetweeners for breakfast.
...a new CD that you think might just help you get through.
...shoving your hands deep in your pockets.
...making your home feel more like a home.
...sharing ice cream.
...being cooked an M&S dinner.
...walking along old tram lines preserved in Southsea streets.
...listening to 10cc as loud as you can bear.
...having things to put in a happiness list.