Out Of My Tree

New Year’s Freakin’ Eve.

The one night of the year that everyone is supposed to go out and have a good time, and the one night of the year when the pressure is almost too much.

As I write this I am in bed.  Trying to get an hour’s kip and trying to come up with an excuse to not go out that won’t make me look like a whingy party pooper.  Although that is exactly what I feel like.

We, as a family, are going to a local pub where they are having a Black and White party.  There will be no one we know there, and it is unlikely that I will talk to anyone but my family.  This is good for me as New Year’s Eve is the one time my brain shuts off and I do very very very… very stupid things.  I will probably drink too much and then have to suffer tomorrow.  And the music will be rubbish.

And the worst thing is I’ll be alone.  Yes, with my family, but alone.  And being alone in a crowd is way worse than being, you know, on your own.

But if going out makes this year end then let’s get on with it…  Although all I really want is a cup of lemon tea, my pyjamas, Jools Holland on the telly, and bed.

Yes, I am a whinging party pooper… but I’ll stick a mask over it tonight!

But, grrr, sigh, I really do hope you all hav an excellent night with your nearest and dearest, and that the New Year brings you all your heart’s desires!

It is finally getting to be weather that makes me feel something.  The chill in the air and the clearness of the sky as I walk to and from work may bring a stinging tear to my eye but it thrills me in an odd way.

I turn up my iPod until I can hear nothing but the music and smile at the way my heart quickens to the beat.  My heart. I feel like I could have use for it sometime in the future.  I don’t know why but there is a hope in me now that I am trying to hold onto.  But it is like a snowflake (that I wish would fall) – the tighter I try to hold on… ah… yep, I’m dribbling again.

One more day of this year left.

So I remembered something today in the midst of all the posting horrors.

I am currently writing all my posts offline and then hurriedly copying and pasting them whenever I get a signal from my wireless.  Then, as this is usually quite late, I click publish and drift off to sleep hoping for the best.  Imagine my horror when I saw that not a bloody one had gone through for the last week.  Grrrr…

What is worse is all this copying and pasting has reminded me that I am supposed to have been copying and pasting bits of posts over to Holidailies to show that I have posted everyday.  Yeah, I think I have done that three times this month.

AND, Blog365.  I haven’t copied a post over to that page since… oh God… Novemeber 20th.  The difference being is I can post the last 40 odd posts over there and back date them so the days are covered.  Holidailies?  Not so much.  You can post once every 12 hours and I haven’t got the patience to wait that one out.  I will do better on that next year… Probably!

I have been thinking about the posting everyday thing year and may be comign up with some sort of schedule so that I give myself a day off every so often and use that to write.  One thing NaNoWriMo taught me was you have to give yourself time to write and not just expect it all to come to you as you fit it in between the rest of life.  Somethign else I will work on for next year!

Another thing I must add to my steadilly growing resolution list is to read other blogs.  I have been hopelessly rubbish about this recently.  And while a lot of it is going to be blamed on the wi-fi badness, most of it is just me.

I am dreading opening my feedreader.

I really do miss you all.

The bored and tired bit between Christmas and New Year is here and news stories come out which both horrify and amaze in their stupidity.  Some, I am convinced are jokes put out there to see if people are paying attention.

Like this.  The Culture ‘ who like a good scaremonger’ Secretary, Mr Mark ‘I have no idea about anything and was given this job because I can lick boots with the best of them’  Burnham is proposing putting age restrictions on websites that have harmful or offensive material on it, and as a father of three believes that ISPs should provide child friendly web-access.

Not the parents.  No.  TheISPs.  The government can control it better than you can. Because we can not in any way trust parents to look out for their kids.  No.  The ISPs should be in control of what their kids see.  It’s only a matter of time before a government monkey will be round to tuck the kids up in bed for you becasue you cannot be trusted to know what is right.

Say it with me… Muppet.

This from a party who’s own damn website needs help. 

So, it may be time to check my own rating again.  Nad after a long long long search I found the damn page and….

So I hope you all brought a responsible adult with you!

In honour of National Fruitcake Day I am not going to write a hell of a lot (which gives you more time to bake/buy/eat said Fruitcake) but am instead going to go out for a walk.

No really.

…

…

Never mind, got one shoe on and am going to have a sit down instead. 

I wonder if there is any fruit cake in?

So yesterday went the way it always does.  Got up, pressies, drank things, ate way too much food (which was excellent – thank you Bell and Bottle!) and then more drinking, more pressies, reading, watched tele, ate, watched Doctor Who and then dozed for a while, more drinking and then sleep.

It was nice to get out of the house fora change though. Seeing other people (even though I didn’t know any of them!) on Christmas Day felt good, almost like the way it was ‘back in the day’ when everyone used to congregate around Granny’s house.  Sigh… really should try and sort something like that… The thought of trying to organise my family though… Anxiety attack in a bottle.

But today!  Today today today!

Boxing Day – so called because today is the day you try and figure out how to get the bin men to take all the flat cardboard boxes from yesterday’s pressies! (Yes, I go with this all the way!)

Traditionally a shopping day and the day when all the bargains are to be found I dragged my arse out of bed and immediately parked in front of the telly box and watched the news of queues up and down this great nation of ours.  I, in no way, could be bothered.  I’m a traditionalist!  I do my sale shopping in January!  After I have been paid!

It all just looks like so much of a to-do.  Yes, after holding back the waves of illness yesterday in a vague attempt to enjoy myself I spent today looking like death on holiday in hell. 

I found the way through though.  Oh yes, booze and board games.  Well, for about 10 minutes anyway and they sitting in a non-sloachy fashion became too much of an effort! 

Reading Stephen Fry in America whilst watching Iron Man on DVD and eating mince pies whilst wearing new comfy cardigan thing and coughing really sums up today.

I may exert myself in a minute and make a cup of tea. Nah, I’ll make the pathetic ill face and someone will get me one.  Right?  Isn’t that how it works?

Mulled Wine followed by Southern Comfort followed by several Black Russians does not a good pre-Church mixture make.

It does, however, make for a good night out talking.

But back to the church thing.

Last night was the traditional Midnight Mass (which in previous years has both enchanted and disappointed me in equal measures… and weirdly I have never blogged about it).  I think I expect too much – it always starts off quite well, friendly face hands you a service sheet and you sit in a warmed church, candlelight flickering lightly as the choir gathers at the back of church ready to sing something beautiful before they walk through church to something everyone knows (this year it was Hark, the Herald Angels Sing) and then there is a bit of a prayer and it’s usually shortly after that the magic goes and my head starts to hurt.

Someone switched all the lights on.  I don’t like it bright anyway but going from candlelight to far too many bulbs always feels a litle to me like that moment in Bond films when the bad guy turns the light on him and says, in a bad accent, something along the lines of ‘I expect you to not talk, but quip a little and then escape in a totally obvious way while I laugh maniacally’

Now, I know I have become a ‘bad church goer’.  I go, at most, 5 times a year.  I have not really felt like church is the place to get my faith on (yes, I am making bad white girl gangster signs right now – hip hop hooray) as it mostly just annoy me with little petty things. 

I mean, for Pete’s sake, the Lord’s Prayer was SUNG with the wrong words (I say wrong as I feel it should be trespasses and not sins… but that’s just me.)

This year the choir was magnificent.  I was worse than usual.  Although the alcohol from my pre-church meeting with friend (which went splendidly) had lubricated and opened up my hacking death cough throat, but still everytime I opened my mouth to sing I sounded like a tuneless version of what I imagine The Nails Down a Chalkboard Symphony (also known as that X-Factor abomination) will sound like.  And, ooo, it hurt!  Singing carols is for me almost as pleasurable as having a good ol’ patriotic sing along with the Last Night of the Proms.  This year not so much.  Damn.

And then there was a moment of pure hell for me.

At a totally random moment in the service a woman I had never seen before got up and started to sing O Holy Night.  My joint first  favourite carol (along with Carol of the Bells).  She may have hit all the right notes, but she hit all the ones in between as well, and ran round the melody like she was being chased by a pack of hungry wolves.  It felt cold and emotionless.  I didn’t think it was possible to sing that particular carol with no emotion.  She succeeded, and it totally ruined what little Christmas joy I had managed to collect up.  It was showboating, and didn’t feel like it was for any reason other than a vocal exercise.

It did one thing though.  It has finally given me the push I needed to get my own vocal issues sorted.  It’s going to be one of my New Year’s resolutions. 

Anyway, we are going out in a few minutes for Christmas dinner and I really have to say:

As I write this I am on my way out the door to go and see an old friend.  Christmas Eve for me is a time to remember the good in the ages and my dear friend Debs is one of the good things.

Over the years we have had our ups and downs as any good friendship has.  Some, if not all of the downs caused by me and my emotional crap but we have survived.  And survived well.

And this year we have something to celebrate for in less than 6 months she will be a Mrs.

I wish I had been a better friend to her over the years, and that contact had been more than just once or twice a year.  I get the guilt thing and then ‘assume’ that I have left it too long but she always reminds me that forgiveness is divine and in my book that makes her godly.

I’ve only got to find my other shoe and then I really must get myself together.  And then it’ll be from the pub to church and by the time I get back Christmas will be here so to all I wish that all your dreams come true, and whether you have been naughty or nice that you get whatever your heart desires both now and in the coming times.

One more day of shopping tomorrow. One.  And I have no ideas at all.  I mean, seriously, what do you get someone who has no hobbies or interests or enthusiasm for life in any way?

I have a total lack of energy for the Christmas Eve onslaught of shopping.  All I really want to do is curl up in a ball and cough for about a week if that’s okay with everyone?

I can do sneezing too if that sweetens the deal.

As is becoming traditional my internet connection is being evil.  The wireless has decided that my room is a no go area.  I can watch the bars on Airport disappear as I cross the threshold of my room, and apparently me sitting on the landing blocking everyone’s way is ‘incovenient’.

Sigh.

Where is my bit of Christmas magic?

I close my eyes and I see your face staring at me through the dark.  I cannot see what emotion runs across your face but I know that it scares me.

I try to remain still not letting you know that I am aare of you, even though I know you can see everything I am thinking and feeling.

When will you speak and put me out of my misery?  When will your demons let me go?

My head feels numb with all the conflicting emotions – everything so bright and intense it fades to nothing.

My impatience wins and I speak your name, only my throat burns and I cannot make a noise so the words come out as a whisper which you can pretend not to have heard.

You turn away to go and I know that this is another day wasted.  Another day when I could have resolved my life.

I open my eyes and the memories of yeasr ago fade away in the blackness.

I really should slow down on the cough medicine.