So many little things

So here I am again, home alone, waiting for a friend to come over.

It’s so isolating not being able to ride anymore, I have my bus pass but that’s not nearly the same thing.

And He’s gone out to a friends, so I couldn’t ride anyway, but that’s not the point in my head.

The point is…because of her I can’t ride with Him, I can’t go out with Him, I can’t be as fully in His life as I once was…and she’s done that.

No-one else has anything to do with this, I can’t ride with Him because of her.

No one understands this, people at work, lovely though their sentiments are, can never understand the loss because they’ve never been there.  I appreciate their words of kindness and understanding, but that’s just it, they don’t understand. They’ve never been through it.  

The Giant was the one I called on in my time of need because I couldn’t cross the road just after the accident. I didn’t call anyone else, just him, he was the only one I knew wouldn’t try to understand, how could he? But what he did was understand how it was affecting me, and I was important to him.  He knew he couldn’t understand, but because he was a friend, he didn’t need to understand how I felt, just that I was feeling it. He’s been my rock for quite a while now, and I don’t know what I would do without him sometimes. He makes my job more bearable, being able to see him most days, even for a moment, to know that there is someone there who doesn’t expect me to be everything all the time, who expects me to be the neurotic, scared, angry, professional, narcissistic, megalomaniac that he knows and loves.  I owe him a lot.

And so I sit here, texting The Giant, and being on MSN messenger to Him, knowing that these two men mean everything to me, whilst listening to “Equilibrium” playing on Netflix, because I can, and because neither of them want me to be anywhere else.  I really should be making an effort to do some of The Dreaded Quest, but I really can’t be bothered right now. I should be sorting out the washing and drying and probably having a shower, but I can’t be bothered to do that either!

So I think I’ll go for a fag!

So…January…are you ready?

The resounding answer from most people is probably “ish”…which is fair. Am I ready? 3 calendars organised, 3 people organised, myself organised, Hubby organised, everything sorted out on the new computer, which let’s not forget Hubby and I had to scale down the food shopping to be able to afford to get it, to make sure that I can do my job, and afford the house, and the transport and the council tax, and the bills that enables me to do my job to get the money to afford to be buying new computers to be able to work. Are “they” ready? Are “they” fuck. “They” haven’t got a fucking clue. Which you can bet will be my fault because I didn’t tell them something, bearing in mind that I didn’t tell them because I didn’t know and I physically didn’t have ANY way of knowing, but you can bet it’ll be my fault, and “things” won’t be where they’re supposed to be, that’s even if “they” are where they are supposed to be…

And it’ll be my fault, because I should have done something I couldn’t have done.

But “they” don’t want excuses, “they” won’t take any responsibility for it, not “their” problem.

And I’ll accept all the abuse and disappointed looks, because that’s what I do

I try to be my best, I wonder why no one else has this philosophy? Why is scraping by enough these days. Why is “just enough to pass” enough? No, it’s not supposed to be easy – if it was my ex-husband could get one. You’re supposed to work hard, otherwise why bother, if you only want to pass what’s the point? If it doesn’t blow your bullocks off, why bother turning up at all. Why would you want to stand there in 2 years time, be handed your piece of paper from whoever, and while your walking across the stage, have the numbers ringing in your ears, knowing you could have done better, knowing you could have got higher. Why don’t you aim to walk across that stage with your head high and say, I earned that mark, I worked my ass off, I did my best (which is the most anyone can do – no one an do more than their best at the end of the day) and smile and know that you earned every last point.

There are people who do work their asses off to get the grades, I admire these people. Against everything and with major (and minor) personal problems and issues going on, they strive every day to make it count, make it matter, make it make a difference. These are people I personally admire, doing your best, no matter how you feel, or if you’re really not in any fit state one day, you do everything you can to make it up the next day, not for anyone else, but for yourself, to know what when you get those numbers your earned every single one, and you couldn’t have got a single point more. Those are the people I admire. Just because your best wasn’t “good enough” to get this or that, it was good enough, because it was your best, and that’s all that matters