Archives for the month of: February, 2015

I failed to get another interview… The promotions I was working on can’t continue if I can’t lay out initially, so they are on stand by, which is a damn shame as they were something positive to look forward to.

I’m seriously tired. The long term unemployment is really taking it out of me. I’m sick of cutting my own hair and watching it dry all frizzy because I can only afford the cheapest shampoo. I dread putting my one pair of jeans on, in case they tear, I can’t afford to replace them. Shoes, I have in abundance, they are all knackered though and worn through. My bed sheets though freshly laundered every week are looking like something from the 1920’s. All my jumpers are bobbly. I only have 2 pans with handles now.

The cat has been really poorly and had to have a tooth out. Every time I pick up a bit of work, it seems that it’s just in time to pay off a debt or cover an emergency, and then I’m on my arse again. My C.V. looks like I can’t hold down a job for shit. Or if I edit out all the bits and bobs here and there, it looks like I’ve been out of work longer than I have and I don’t know which is worse.

I’d love to go swimming again, but you guessed it, I can’t afford it. I’m so tired of this.

I earned a bit of money for looking after some things for a friend, it’s enough to buy some food and get my travel to the hospital apt. Let’s not talk about that. I handed my notice in to the landlord, tried to retract it but can’t as they are selling the house now… So I have to find some where to live and some money to move there.

My friends have seen how despondent I am and bought tickets to some gigs, man they were amazing. A real tonic, just what I needed to take my mind off things for a while. If you have a friend who’s down on their luck, sling them a life line and get them out of town for a bit. You’ll all be happier for it. A day off from being the fat/skinny moaning kid with no money is worth a shit load of karma points, I’m sure. Just don’t talk about work, and how somethings bound to show up soon…

Richard Dawson – Vile Stuff
Anonymous Bash – Postcode Scam


The idiot neighbour has been spending time away! When he’s here, you can hardly hear a thing. It’s a bloody miracle. I went to see the other properties, I’m staying put. I’m not going down again if I don’t have to. I will move sideways, but I am not sinking, while I still have the strength to bail. I haven’t heard from the job yet, so I’m signing up with two agencies in my area. Perhaps it’s time for yet another career change. I have everything I need to go into nursing. They say I have already done the first year of my nursing degree! We’ll see.

So here’s a thing… I just keep saying no.

To the man who accused me of being a sexual predator (can you be a celibate sexual predator?), the one who had no need to talk to me. None, I didn’t know him. I’d never seen him before. He was in my space, snarling, so abruptly. I slapped him. I don’t know who was more surprised. My hand flew up to his face, thankfully it didn’t hit him hard, just enough to let him know I was going to defend myself.

To the father who made me homeless when I was 19. I’ve been paying his phone bill because he didn’t want a DD. When I moved out of area, he began dropping the money off when I was out. The last few months he’s been giving it to my brother, which considering my financial situation is not ideal. This month he went over his limit. He denied it. We need to phone them, I say, and find out what is going on. He comes, and explodes into my space. Perhaps it’s because I’ve had a break, I didn’t realise how much I had to modify my behaviour in order to keep things cool. Long story short I told him things needed to change, I asked for the money he owed, he called me pathetic and made to leave. I said, “We need to sort this out, I will cancel your package if you go”. He said, “If you do that I will never speak to you again”. I let him leave, and canceled his package.

To the person I thought I loved last year. Who thought he could come over on Valentines. I haven’t seen him in a year, except at gigs. The last time I saw him, he was bloated with booze, and looked like a man on pause. “Would you like some company?”. Nope.

I felt like crap. I panicked. But I was exhausted. I had nothing left in the pot. I don’t regret a thing. I feel amazing. I have no fear. Stuff still needs sorting, it’s not perfect, but there is space. I’ve been pushing back my boundaries. I think you can see why my relationship with men can be difficult at times. Why would I bother? I don’t know why; I like them still. Not these ones though. I’m going to find better ones.

So, I’m on the brink of having to move again. Not just because stable employment eludes me, but because my neighbour is irrational and uncompromising. This weekend was another such barrage. Music till 3:30am. I’ll admit I’d had a bottle of wine, determined once again to give alcoholism another go. Suddenly the music went off and I smiled, then passed out.

At 5:25am I was woken from my drunk slumber. The walls sounded like they would come through. I struggled to regain some semblance of consciousness, if not sobriety. The music was loud, the banging sounded like a jumble of noise, the dog barking worried. I sat up and listened. Three peels of laughter, or a shriek, or a dog whine? I could not decipher. Then silence. Nothing. At about 6:15am the dog howled. In a year and a half the dog has only howled once: when it lost it’s puppy friend.

I called the police. I hate what he is doing to my life, but I can not sit in silence if someone is hurt. Is it her? Maybe him? You can never tell these days. They call round for a safety check at 8:30 am. Predictably, the door goes unanswered. They have been trying to serve him with a harassment notice since December. They know now that I am truthful when I say they will struggle to get him to answer the door. He’s not in they told me. Until one time he had left his keys in the door: the police took them and asked the other neighbour to keep them. He suddenly appeared at the door.

Anyway, I could not get back to sleep, half drunk, half hungover, half what the hell is going on!? I must have fallen asleep about tennish. I was woken by his TV at two pm. I called the police to let them know they were both alive, and by the sound of it, happy. I took a sleeping tablet. I felt so ill, I just needed the switch to flick off. I was awoken again at 12:15am. By this time, I am half mad with despair. How long can a person live like this? I missed my dads birthday. Shit.

About 2pm I woke up. Wrote a letter to hand in my notice to my landlady. Arranged to see some cheaper properties in slightly worse areas, though not so isolated as the one I had come from previously. Cancelled my last months rent payment so I could afford to move. Asked my friends to store my things if need be. No one can be expected to live like this and hold down a job or look for work.

The next day. The next damn day! The police ring and tell me they have served the harassment notice. They finally took my advice and went to his work. The council emailed me two hours later to tell me they will install noise monitoring equipment. After 14 months or more of seeking support! And then, the art gallery I volunteer with posts a job advert that I can fulfill with my eyes closed. What do I do now?

The neighbour punished me, of course, he would. One song keeps cropping up after significant instances: The Killers: Smile Like You Mean It. What does this mean? What on earth do I inspire in him to earn that song?

What do I do? Stay? Hope springs eternal, the required support has arrived. Or go? Cut my losses and slide back into a less well off area? Lord knows trying to improve my circumstances with my housing hasn’t worked. And then I realise, now the police and council are involved, I might be able to move back into social housing. What would you do?

Sincerely, what would you do?