Let Me See You Shake Your Tail Feather

Friday night I did something I've never done before. It's something millions of people do every day and don't think twice about, but for me it was a really big deal. It was my work Christmas do (or rather one of my work Christmas do's), and I wore a strapless top. That's it. That's the major thing I did for the first time in my life. I wouldn't have done it a year ago, or even six months ago. I'd have felt far too self conscious and insecure to even consider it. Getting my five stone award at Slimming World has made so much difference though. I am beginning to feel freer, to feel younger, and most importantly to feel happier. I've still got a really long way to go, but I feel like it's achievable now. I'm feeling the benefits so much already, that now I'm not scared of looking to my target. It doesn't feel so huge or unobtainable any more. It feels exciting and rewarding. I don't think I'm becoming a different person, I think I'm rediscovering the person inside. The girl who can wear a strapless top and heels and hold her head up high, dance and laugh like nothing in the world can touch me. It's a magic place to be, and one that will continue to get brighter and happier as I continue this journey of weight loss and healing.

I say weight loss and healing, because that's what I'm doing, I'm healing myself. For the first time in my life I realised and accepted this year that I've got/had (?) an eating disorder. Wow, that's the first time I've ever typed those words in relation to myself. Big deep breath.... That's pretty exhilarating actually. Knowing I've got to a place where not only can I say it to myself, but I can write it for the world to see. And each time I say it to someone, or hold onto it when I'm in a bad place, that eating disorder gets smaller and less powerful. That massive snake with its hypnotising eyes is losing it's hold on me.

I'm getting me back, and I love it. Watch out world, I'm on my way back!

I Close My Eyes, And This Is Yesterday

In the middle of another bout of insomnia last weekend I decided to flick through my old diaries. I kept diaries on and off throughout my childhood for a couple of months at a time. But since I was around sixteen I've pretty much consistently kept a diary, although I've been very lax at writing in it for the last couple of years. Maybe that's something to do with my ability to handle depression and things better than before. I don't know. In some parts it was like I was reading something I could have written a month ago, other times it was like reading the thoughts of a stranger.
I don't just have written entries in my diaries, they also contain tickets to things, odd photo's, poems, emails, lists of favourite things. I found a poem that someone who meant a huge amount to me in college wrote. It made me get back in touch with him which has been lovely. He's as funny and charming as I remember him to be, with a little tinge of something else, maybe it's experience or heartbreak - I'm not entirely sure yet.
Rightly or wrongly I am generally very emotion led. I always have been. I feel things and react without thinking them through. I hadn't realised until looking back through my diaries just how emotion led I was as a teenager. Although I still react on emotions, I have learnt to be a bit more rational about things. I guess I've managed to stop bouncing off the walls quite so very much!
One entry that brought tears to my eyes was after my 21st birthday. I was recounting a conversation I had with G that night. He said to me that he loved me and that I could always rely on him no matter where he was or what he was doing because I'd always be important in his life. I was in tears for the girl who wrote that entry. For the girl that believed those magical words and was let down by him. If I could say one thing to him today for that girl, I would thank him bizarrely enough. I'd thank him for giving me hope and faith, and helping me feel like I wouldn't walk the path of my life alone.

We Live In A House Of Cards....

Those are the opening words to one of the bleakest and most beautiful songs I've heard in a while. Those are the words written by a friend, a friend who has had the guts to carve his own path in life. He's not settling for second best, he's not prepared to wait around and see what happens. Instead he's living an honest life - honest and true to the person he is and wants to be, and is writing some very intelligent and touching songs as a result.
Sure, they're not songs that are necessarily everyone's taste. But then, what music is? If asked what kind of music I enjoy the most, my answer is most things in a rock/metal/punk vein. I can't explain why those are the genres that appeal to me, it's like asking a blind man to describe the world he sees through touch - there are no words, it's a feeling, a reaction inside. So although I have heard Adam play many times before, the feeling and reaction inside I got last night from him playing was unexpected. I expected to enjoy it, he's good at what he does so why would I not enjoy it? But I didn't expect to be affected by it. His hauntingly beautiful voice was all encompassing, people were stopping conversations to listen to him. Strangers with no loyalty or desire to encourage were listening and enjoying what they were hearing.
Adams set included a cover of Johnny Cash and of the mighty Radiohead. It was a brave choice to mix his own compositions in with two of the most famous and most unique songwriters of all time. His songs held there own though, they were by no means carbon copies of Radiohead or Cash (although to be fair, if you were going to plagiarise, then who better to pick?!), rather you could tell Adam has an understanding of the make-up of their music and has learnt from that for his own song writing.
So did I go and see him play because he's my friend? Yes, of course. Will I go and see him play again? Yes, because I've not been able to get Asunder out of my head all day and I want to hear more.

Life Is Like A Beautiful Melody, Only The Lyrics Are Messed Up

Sometimes when the light is right I can see so many scars running along my arm. Many more than I assume can be seen by the glance of a stranger. Some of them merge into each other and others standing clear. And sometimes the desire to add to them is unbearable.

Knowing Me, Knowing You

I generally think I'm a pretty good judge of character. True, I do look for the good in people and will give them the benefit of the doubt beyond when others will have given up on them. But that doesn't make me a naive person; I like to think I'm generally pretty aware of when people are using me and when they're genuine with me. Tonight though I'm not so sure. I'm not sure if it's selfishness, or cluelessness, or that they just don't care that much. If I've been used here, then... well I was going to put I hope karma gives them their just deserts, but the part of me that can't believe they were using me doesn't want anything bad to happen to them. I guess I hope that if they have used me, that they will stop doing so now, before I get more hurt.

Reasons To Be Cheerful

I figured since I can't sleep I'd put my time to good use and write a blog entry. It was this, or do more internet shopping, and given how much I ordered yesterday that wasn't really an option!
So the reason to be cheerful refers to me by proxy really. I've got a new job being a paid youth worker at No Limits where I currently volunteer. It's the job I've dreampt of since I started volunteering there 4 1/2 years ago, and one I've been turned down for twice before now. A question I get asked over and over from people when I tell them about my new job is "How can you work there? Don't you get sad?". The answer to that question is yes, of course sometimes I get sad, I'd be worried if I didn't. But one comment that was made to me this week sums up perfectly the feeling of why I love this job, why it makes me cheerful.... one young person (who wouldn't mind me saying there have been days when I've begun preparing myself for the idea of attending his funeral) said "Look, I found a white scar today, my first one". That may sound insignificant, or something to not get excited about to some people. But for me, it's one of the best things I could have heard. To see how far he's come in the last twelve months is amazing, he's overcome so much I couldn't begin to find the words to explain it properly.
His words are my answer. His words are my reason to be cheerful, that he's healing physically and emotionally. That is why I love my new job before I've even begun it!

Guilty Feet Have Got No Rhythm

I'm not too sure at what point it is you go from being fan to psycho stalker freak.... but yes, I am blogging once again about Southampton's finest - Jet Heeled Striker. Starting on a negative point, lads you did have us waiting some time for this gig; on a positive though, God it was worth waiting for!
It was the second time they've headlined now, and watching the number of people enter (and stay) in the Joiners last night was good to see. It was great to stand back and see how many people were there and really enjoying the music. Not just their fans, but also people who had come for the subliminal Seventh Seed who then stuck around and gave JHS a chance.
I know Chris was struggling with his throat, and talking afterwards...well I say 'talking' but I think 'croaking' is a far better description... he was clearly in some pain. It really didn't seem to affect him on stage though, his performance was as dynamic and honest as ever.
That's a description that I would use happily for the whole band though. I don't profess to know them all, so it's only a generalisation based on observation and those members that I do know; but they play and sing like they're doing it for themselves as much as for anyone else. There's no act going on, the music comes from within in a way that's exhilarating and infectious. The smiles, laughter and movements that were taking place on stage were clearly because that's where they're happy, where they feel uninhibited and confident. And that's exactly how they should be, because the music they make is something they should be proud, happy and confident of.
They tried out something new tonight, having Adam play an acoustic number in the middle of the set. I've heard him play the song before and fell in love with it then, and on stage he played it even more beautifully. It was a brave thing for them to do, but it didn't upset the balance of the gig. Loved it.
There were a couple of new songs being showcased last night which went down very well. I've said before that their songs are all individual and distinctive whilst at the same time sounding like them. Their songs are clever, they're not these ten-a-penny American punk songs that after a while become slightly indistinctive. Don't get me wrong, I am a fan of American punk, I'm a fan of pretty much any punk, but there is a general misconception that it can be mastered by any group of spotty fifteen year olds with a couple of guitars. It can't. You can tell listening to JHS that there is a lot going on in their songs, the more times you hear them, the more you hear in them. There is a subtle complexity to them that is clever. There's a very small line between being too complex and therefore pretty inaccessible, and being too simple and therefore nothing to keep you hooked. JHS have mastered that in their songwriting, both lyrically and musically. It shows their intelligence and their knowledge in all aspects of music.
Yes, their fans had to wait since July to see them, but when the music is that good, it's forgivable. Same with the album. If speeding it up would jeopardize the standard and quality of the songs, then take your time guys. I know it will be worth the wait.
On a personal comment, Ali and Becky, congratulations - you got me 'dancing' sober for the first time since I was about seven. I honestly don't know whether to love you or hate you!

I'm Your Pain When You Can't Feel

It's been 18 days since Gran died. We've had the funeral, cremation and interred the ashes. The official mourning time is now over and it's that point where you have to return to reality whether you feel ready to or not. I feel like the world continued while I was absent from it, but is for all intents and purposes exactly the same as it was 19 days ago. Only I've been away and come back entirely changed. I don't know where I quite fit in the world now. Part of my regular routine was to ring Gran every couple of weeks at least, and to visit her monthly. Despite the amount she drove me mad, I was actually very close to her. I enjoyed going up to see her; Mum used to tell me I didn't have to go with them, that Gran knew I had a busy life. I wanted to though. I wanted to spend time with her. I still want to spend time with her, I want to call her up and talk about whatever crap we used to talk about. I want to continue my routine I had 19 days ago but I can't.
She was my last living grandparent. I've been blessed with knowing them all and having a Great Gran until I was 14. Although my Grandma was alive until I was 18, she was sick for many years and Alzheimers took her long before she actually died. So Gran was the only grandparent who saw me finish school. She was the person I called first when I got my GCSEs, A-Levels, degree, diploma - any achievement really. I know peoples reaction is that I can still tell her these things, that she will be listening and watching. But that's not enough even in the same ball park is it?
I hate being jealous of friends or colleagues, but at work the other day one of the girls was talking about her Nan. I was nearly in tears with jealousy that she had a Nan left to visit. Knowing I no longer have grandparents is horrid. Of course I've thought over the years about Gran dying, but I never really realised that when she died it would mean that it meant the end of grandparents for me. It's an incredible extra layer of sadness on top of the pain and sorrow I am carrying from Gran's death.

Everybody Hurts, Sometime

Today has been unbelievably hard. Yesterdays relative state of numbness made me think that I was doing okay and was going to be strong and hold everyone else up instead. I eventually passed out around 2 this morning sobbing into my pillow. I woke up what felt like a hundred times between then and 8 when I gave in and got up. The first lot of tears came in the shower - I could write something symbolic about my tears and the water streaming down my face, but to be honest I couldn't care less about making it sound pretty right now. By 11.30 when I was leaving Fair Oak for Wales I'd been in tears 4 times. Totally exhausted and alone driving along the M4 wasn't much fun. For some reason as Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty came on my ipod I gave in to the tears again. Luckily I was 1/2 mile from the services so could stop rather than risking the lives of everyone around me too much. More tears driving into Pontnewydd, and many more when I pulled up outside my Grans bungalow. That was the moment I was dreading from the minute I knew she was dying - stepping into her home without her physically there but surrounded by her at the same time. If it weren't for the fact that I need to be here to help my Mum, I'd have bolted back to Fair Oak and hidden away until it was all over. My uncle and his wife came up - my uncle and my mum are very close, my Grandparents were more parents to him than his own were really so my Grans death has poleaxed him. Although it was good to see them I found myself largely tuning out what was being said and picking up random nicknack's Gran has lying around and fiddling with them instead. And crying. One point I curled up on the sofa and the pain I was in was hideous. I'd forgotten, or blocked out, that part of losing someone I love. That gut wrenching agony of crying like my heart was breaking apart and would never fit back together properly again.
I wish my sister was here with me. I need my sister to be here with me. Trouble is I can't ask her to be here because she needs to do what's right for her.
It's now 1am and I've slept about 7 hours since Friday night. I'm so tired I feel like I could sleep for days. I can't switch off though, I can't stop the thoughts and I can't handle the silence of being here in my room all alone. Nothing to distract me, nothing to fill that silence except my tears.

Bread Of Heaven

I wanted to write to try and make sense of my head, but I've been staring at the screen not knowing where to begin. My Gran died last night. That's all I think I can say really. People are asking me how I am and I don't know. I don't know how I feel, what I'm thinking or what to do with myself. All I know is I'm surrounded by the most incredible friends and family who have been more kind and supportive these last 24 hours then I'll ever be able to thank them fully for.

Oil On Canvas Can Never Paint a Petal So So Delicate

I was talking to a young person in No Limits yesterday who wasn't bothered about music. I was chatting with another colleague at the time who is very into his music when this person came in and joined into our conversation. They said something along the lines of 'oh, you're talking about music, that's dull'.... they just had no interest in music at all. That's something I just can't get my head around. Music colours every part of my life. Major events are remembered through music - when I think of my lovely Grandad around the time he died I hear Meatloaf... when I'm excited about going to watch Wales in a rugby international I am surrounded in my head by the crowds singing Delilah and Bread Of Heaven.... In the same way, when I hear the songs they trigger the memory - Drinking In LA by Bran Van 3000 is me and Lynda walking drunkenly through Talybont at 3 in the morning.... Motorcycle Emptiness is the last night of my first year at uni.... the Sex Pistols version of My Way is my first kiss (I know, I'm so punk!)... Teenage Dirtbag is simply Gareth....
I couldn't describe to this young person how music makes me feel, how it's like an extension of me, it expresses what I cannot find the words or sounds for. I love that a song will appear on the radio or my ipod that takes me somewhere or makes me feel something unexpected. On the way to work today my ipod was on random and it played Ring Of Fire. I was straight back to going to see Jet Heeled Striker: of the way their playing makes me feel and of the hope I have for them to succeed and survive in such a turbulent industry.
For me oil on canvas can really never paint a petal so so delicate as a beautiful song can.

Somewhere, Between The Sacred Silence And Sleep, Disorder, Disorder, Disorder

Do you ever wish you could just make your thoughts shut the fuck up? Today is one of those days. My mind has been racing since I woke up and nothing seems to drown it out or make it stop... I've tried music, TV, chattering with people and nothing. Seriously beginning to think the only solution is starting at one end of my table full of alcohol and working my way to the other. To drink myself so obliterated that I don't even remember my own name, let alone be able to think about things. Knowing my luck though, like cockroaches after a chemical war, my thoughts would still be live and well.
Mostly I'm thinking about Gran. Every month seems to bring a new problem or issue with her. The most recent thing being she's fallen again causing damage to her foot and a deep wound on her leg that's now got infected. Last night she told me the morning after she did it she had to crawl down the corridor to the bathroom because she couldn't walk. An 87 year old lady on her hands and knees. It broke my heart. I feel so guilty that I'm down here and she's in Wales all alone. What scares me is that I know there's only one route that all this can go. Now when I see her my immediate thought isn't that I'm looking at Gran, it's that I'm looking at a frail old lady. I hate this and I'm powerless to change anything.

Birds Flying High You Know How I Feel

Something's changed in me recently and it's a good thing. I don't spend my life being depressed by any means, but for the first time in a while I can put my hand on my heart and say I'm actually really happy. I still hate my job, but I've found that I can handle the crap that I feel from that because I feeling generally so good. I've been going to Slimming World for about 14 months and to date I have lost 3 stone 9 and 1/2 Lb - ten of which I've lost in the last two weeks. These last two weeks I've found it so easy to stick to. Plus, I've found myself wanting to do exercise for the first time in a long time - maybe because I actually have the ability to do it now! So every other day I'm riding 15 to 20 km and I feel so good during and after it that I just want to do more and more. I feel like at 27 I'm getting my life back from being stuck inside me, and it's great.
This renewed vigour has spread itself throughout my life. I'm rediscovering and falling in love again with music. With my beautiful CDs. All 600 odd of them. Each day I get up and am excited about what album I'm going to pick to listen to on the way to work.
I'm slightly scared about writing this blog. For two reasons really. First because I find my weight an incredibly hard thing to talk about. It took me 24 sessions before I could talk to my therapist about it. But I'm tackling it now and I'm getting my head straight on secretive eating and stuff which is helping every day. And every day it gets easier to deal with and easier to talk about. And each time I talk about it my secrets lose their power over me.
The second reason for being scared is because I don't want to scare off this good mood! A bit like a baby deer - by letting it know I'm here I hope it won't run away!

And Just Like The Movies We Play Out Our Last Scene

I have had the most brilliant weekend. I spent Saturday night with most of the people who mean more to me than anyone else in the entire world. They are the most incredible group of friends I could wish for. We laugh together, cry together, have learnt together, and play together. In varying degrees of time, we've grown up together. These people know me pretty much entirely, and amazingly are still there! I have more to thank them for - each one of them in different ways - than I would ever be able to really explain.
The weekend was only marred by the floods of tears that my poor Mum had to deal with on Sunday afternoon! In short, I had the blues big style (plus I was tired, hungover and PMT-ing, not a good combination!). My very best friend, Jenn, and her lovely husband came down for this weekend especially for the party. Jenn has lived in a different place to me since the end of uni, 6 years now. Every time she's down and I have to say goodbye it makes me well up. I hate that she's so far away, that I can't pop round for a random cuppa or to borrow a book or something. Carl is currently home for ten days from uni in Scarborough: Scarborough FFS!! Can you get much further away from Southampton?? I couldn't be happier for him that he's in uni there and doing his thing. But dropping him at his parents house yesterday and saying "see you at Christmas" when it's only the summer holidays felt like a kick in the guts.
My Mum had just managed to ebb the flow of tears, when I started all over again, starting with me saying "everybody leaves me Mum, why does nobody want to be near me?"! I know! I proceeded to cry over Tom my Infant School boyfriend who left for another school, Bethan my friend from Infants who moved back to Chepstow, and beautiful Sophie who left me in year five to go to South Africa (okay, so there are places further away than Scarborough!). In fairness, Soph did return but lives in Manchester which is still far too far away.
It's the feeling of being left behind that's so hard to handle. That they can come home to us, but then they leave and go back to friends up there. I'm left here with a gaping hole where one of my best friends should be stood.
Today I have found more perspective on the situation. In an ideal world, my friends would all live within about 10 miles of me. But I know that's an unrealistic, and rather selfish, wish. I have to concentrate instead on how good it is when we are together, and that although there may be many many miles between us, we are always close to each other.

Let The Music Play, Down At Fraggle Rock

This week I have a HUGE (and by huge I mean colossal) decision to make. I've had a dream since I was about twelve on a holiday in the Lake District (exotic, I know!) to open my own cafe. Over the years the dream has altered slightly and today has come to rest with it being a cafe with a musical edge. I would have open mic nights and stay open into the evenings for live music. There would be guitars available to pick up and play if they want. There would be local artists work for sale on the walls, and a liquor licence to sell bottles of beer and wine.
Then there's the other potential path, something I haven't dreamt about forever, but I get huge satisfaction from - counselling. My dream with counselling though had never been a straightforward one. I always think of counselling as an addition to something else I do.
So here is plan three: that I go down the cafe route, and when I am stable enough I can expand to counselling too. Maybe even just continue as I do now and volunteer somewhere. I think part of my love of counselling is giving something precious to someone and expecting nothing in return.
Idea two is the safest of the three. Idea one I get tingly and excited about but I feel like I will have wasted the last however many years of studying. So idea three makes most logical sense. I just don't know though if it's a possibility. The thought of not ever doing it though breaks my heart. I don't know if I can do it, but I don't know if I can not do it either.

Bound By Wild Desire, I Fell Into A Ring Of Fire

Last night was the first in what looks set to be a happy future of headlining for Jet Heeled Striker. There was something different about Adam when talking to him before they even got on stage. There was an extra spark in his eye - he always looks relaxed and happy when on stage but last night there was an extra level of adrenaline bouncing around him.
Clearly it wasn't limited to Adam though, because all the guys looked like they had the adrenaline flowing when they hit the stage. It was a great sight. They were relaxed and confident as ever, but there was a bit of a devil-may-care attitude going on too. Not in an arrogant 'you should all listen to us and think we're magnificent' way, but in a 'we love what we're doing and we're going to enjoy ourselves tonight' way. They knew it was their stage, their night, rather than preparing it for someone else. A night that they deserved, and that did not disappoint.
They played their way beautifully through the set which showed their talent at songwriting and performing - each song sounding both unique and as a part of something bigger at the same time. If I actually was ever unselfconscious enough to dance sober (moshing doesn't count as dancing!) then I would have danced my way through the entire thing!
I'm not going to rant on for ages, because to be honest, you should be going to see this band rather than taking my word for it. Adam naming me during the evening before playing the subliminal Generation X (I've changed my mind again, this IS still my favourite song) has no bearing on me saying how good they are - honest!
The only negative comment I have to make - other than that the second band to play were worse than anything I've heard for a very long time - is that they're not playing again until September 25th in The Joiners. However, if last night is anything to go on, it's likely to be a very good night.

All We Want From You Are The Kicks You've Given Us

In the Cardiff afterlife
We sensed the making of our lives

Gotta love Manic Street Preachers for making sense of my sometimes very confusing life!

This Is a Weeping Song, A Song In Which To Weep

When my Grandad died one of his friends wanted to honour his memory by planting a tree in his name. My Grandad was quite an important man who brought industry and hope to a very depressed area. So it was because of this that his friend wanted his name and memory live on in the community he helped so much.
At some point between 1558 and 1603 Elizabeth I visited the Royal Forest of Dean and planted an oak tree. Ever since then it has been one of the jobs of the verderer to maintain the lineage - there always has to be some saplings healthy and ready to be planted in the event of disease or whatever hitting the mature royal oaks.
It was the verderer who was my Grandads friend and it was one of these saplings he used to honour him with.
It was a wet and cold winter morning when we gathered to help plant this tiny sapling in the arboretum next to Speech House. The rain mingling rather symbolically with my tears, and the cold being a good excuse for why my hands were shaking too much to be much use at spading up the mud. But then, at the age of twelve when you've just sat through a memorial service in a cathedral full of strangely important looking people for someone you've only ever known as your Grandad, I think it's justifiable to have been a little overwhelmed by the events that had been unfolding.
I've only been to the tree once since we planted it. For some reason I found visiting the tree so much harder than his grave. I know it's doing okay because my sister visits it quite a bit, but I find the idea of going to it so painful. I want to go, I want to see it growing into a beautiful strong tree, and I want to see the plaque they've finally agreed to let be put there.
My sister saw the tree this week and showed me a short video she'd taken of it this morning. It floored me totally. I was a mess, tears and snot pouring down my face. Crying with such a feeling of grief that I've not cried like in a very long time. My Grandad has been dead fifteen years, he's been missing from my life for longer than he was in it. I've cried so many tears for him over the years, as I have all those I've lost since. To cry with such pain and sadness after all this time really knocked me about. Why watching a thirty second video of his tree caused such a reaction in me, I've no idea.

Oh Neil I'd Even Give Up A Months Supply Of Chewing Tobakky

First off I need to explain the reasoning behind the lyrics as the title of this blog... after going to see Jet Heeled Striker last night Neil (guitarist in the band) asked if there would be a blog entry to google today. So I figured without any inspiration of anything else to call this entry, I would find some sort of lyrical link to Neil instead. There seems to be a shortage of songs about people called Neil, maybe it's a niche in the market JHS could fill..... The only song I could come up with is a shockingly bad Carol King number called 'Oh Neil' which she wrote in response to Neil Sedaka's track 'Oh Carol'.
Last nights gig was in The Railway Inn in Winchester. Saying it was loud does not even begin to explain the volume in that little black room. Saying it was lacking in audience numbers does not really do it justice either. I know it was a Thursday night, but come on people, make an effort, support your local bands!
We got there in time to catch the last 3 or so songs of a band called Mirrors. To say the lead singer was energetic is probably the polite version. By the end of the little bit of what we saw of them I found myself wishing he would knock himself out on the lights he was nearly headbutting every time he jumped. He seemed to want to be both the bands singer and biggest fan all at once which resulted in him pacing back and forth and jumping around like someone who wouldn't have been out of place in a room with padded walls and calming colours! It was a shame really because past that they actually had quite a good sound, but it was lost by the totally over the top nature of their singer. The first time he banged his microphone on his head in time to the drummer was quite a nice touch, the third time it was just dull. The potential's there, but for me they have a lot of polishing to do.
Jet Heeled Striker in comparison looked much more cohesive and comfortable in the stage space. They've had enough gigs now to get to that point where they have found the balance between being entertaining and over the top. Luckily Adam doesn't feel the need to pace around like a rabid creature!
Bare with me because I don't know the technicalities of what that man at the back of the room does with the table of buttons; but whatever he's meant to do, he wasn't doing it very well last night. The singing was largely swamped by the music - not because Adams singing isn't good enough to stand up next to the music, because it really is. Safe & Sound fared well with this distorted balance because of the style of the song. Its nu-metal feel works well with a heavy guitar sound and lyrics which are slower and more melodic. Other songs like First Gay President (forgive me if that's not the correct title!) where the singing is faster and much more lyric-y didn't stand up so well.
A lot of bands pay a huge amount of attention to the singer and use the music to back them up. Without the lyrical content, they don't have much to fall back on. Last nights unbalanced sound could have been a real issue if it weren't for the fact that Jet Heeled Striker aren't a singer with a back up band. Neither are they a band who have a singer because they have to. They pay as much attention to all parts of what makes them a band. Each one of the five of them complements and supports the other. Without being able to hear Adam so well last night was a shame, but it wasn't a bad performance as a result as the music stood up really well on its own merits.
To go back briefly to their stage presence, I think what makes them so watchable is that they don't look like they're trying to be a band, it looks like they are one. I love that Chris wonders about the stage to play with Neil or Gibbo, he just looks like he lives his life on a stage. At one point last night he and Neil were laughing together as they were playing; it's little things like that that makes them so enjoying to watch - their comfort and enjoyment in what they're doing really comes through in their music and in their performance on stage.
Looking forward to Talking Heads on 23 July!

We'll Beat You Up If You Make Us Annoyed

It's 11:17, I've been at work since 8:15 and I've lost count the amount of times I've wanted to scream at people in my office. Outside of here I would class them as friends, and quite a few of them really are. But with the exception of precisely one colleague I think I've silently screamed at everyone today. If I enjoyed even a moment of my job I think I wouldn't find my colleagues so irritating. The girl I sit next to has been rabbitting on for four hours now about her disjointed family; which is fine - we all talk about ourselves, but I feel like my heads going to implode from lack of stimulation. We've had not one intelligent conversation - don't get me wrong, I'm all for a laugh and a joke, but seriously can we talk about something other than One Tree Hill and Eastenders for ten minutes??! The girl opposite me (who is leaving at the end of the month for a sort of promotion) is having to be told word for word how to write her resignation letter; how hard is it to write "Dear blah, Please accept my resignation from my position as FAB Support Officer. My last day will be blah. Yours sincerely...."????? I just can't be here anymore, I worry for my mental health, seriously, I get to Sunday night and I'm often in tears about the thought of going to work the next morning. I always said I couldn't imagine doing a job I don't find rewarding or I don't enjoy, and look where I am. I need out and fast.

Leaving On A Jet Plane, Don't Know When I'll Be Back Again

There's a lad I work with at No Limits who has made a big impression on my life. I remember vividly the first time I met him - he was listening to The Moody Blues which is a bit unusual for a 13 year old in 2005. Over the years I've worked with him I've grown to respect him hugely for his strength of mind, his tenacity to not give in and give up when times have been hard, and his unwavering sense of identity which he has struck true to.
It's not always been easy to work with him though, there have been times when I've left for the day and have literally sat in my car with my head on the steering wheel sobbing. I've been scared that I would go in the next week and find out his overdose had been successful this time, or that a cut went just that bit too deep....
Despite that though, I wouldn't swap a minute of the time I have spent working with him. I've learnt so much professionally and personally from him and the work we've done together which has shaped me into the counsellor and youth worker I am becoming.
He's moving away now to start life anew in a different part of the country. I'm so happy for him that he's doing this; that he's got to a place where he's able to do this and to look forward with his life. I will miss him hugely both as a youth worker and as a person. But I'm not watching him go with a sense of sorrow or of worry. He's done more work to help himself than I think he will ever fully realise and is truly one of the strongest people I've had the good fortune to meet.
Where ever his path leads him in the future, I hope it's a happy one. He deserves that so very much.

Fuck Chicken Soup For The Soul, Give Me Jet Heeled Striker

So it doesn't take a genius to figure if you read my last blog (or even just its title) that things haven't been all flowers and hearts and sunshine for me recently. When I was in counselling recently (my therapy, not being someone elses counsellor) I used a metaphor to describe my depression and stuff as being like I was wearing those buckets on a piece of wood that milk maids used to use - forgive me, I have no idea what they're called. These last few weeks have felt like my buckets have been filled up again and really dragging me down. I'm not wanting to go into that now though, feeling shit can wait for another blog another time. The reason I mention it is because tonight for the first time in ages I felt happy. It was partially the company, I was with two people who have grown to become very good friends that I can laugh and be myself with. The other reason being because I got to listen to some very good music.
A very warm and sunny day turned into a warm and sunny evening and Talking Heads turned into a very warm and sweaty pub. Going in to watch Jet Heeled Striker the air had a heavy scent of alcohol, sweaty young men and hormones with an undercurrent of day old suntan cream and perfume. Odd mixture, but strangely it worked well together. It was a smell that reminded me of freedom, of throwing myself into a gig and not caring about anything but being there to soak in the magic being played in front of me.
And tonight I needed some of that magic, I needed to feel the magic music wash over me and sooth my battered soul a little. It didn't fail. They seemed to play heavier than I've heard them play before. Maybe it was my imagination, the heavy atmosphere mixing with the sound and giving that vibe. It was 100% what I needed though.
There seemed an extra richness in Adams singing tonight that I'm assuming is because he's quit smoking - it's definitely worth the struggle because his singing held it's own against the power and volume emanating from the rest of the band.
It's my opinion that getting a balance between the singer and the music on a CD must be pretty easy - there's enough buttons in a recording studio to make anything sellable no matter how crap it is in it's raw form. I've seen so many bands that have been promising on CD but live either the singer gets drowned out and lost, or it's all about the singer and the music becomes secondary. Not the case with these guys, and certainly not the case today. They marry so well together, no one part of the band or one person is more important than the other. The music is as important as the lyrics, and today they were executed in a beautifully heavy way.
So, I just want to thank them for giving my soul a much needed metaphorical hug and leaving me feel happier than I have for a while.

Cut Myself And See My Blood, I Want To Go Home All Covered In Mud

Seventeen months. Seventeen fucking months. Fucked up.

What A Drag It Is Getting Old

I'm going to see Gran tomorrow; she had a fall week before last in M&S and she's 87 next week, so I'm going to wish her happy birthday and also to check up on her. I find these days I'm constantly worrying about her in the back of my mind - will she fall, will she hurt herself with her failing eyesight, will she have another stroke, will she get a chest infection which coupled with her emphysema be really dangerous, will she have heart failure????? Questions which of course I cannot answer but plague me in that part of the night where the darkness allows all those thoughts through which are blocked by the business of the day.
My gran is my only grandparent I have left: my grandad died when I was twelve, Great Gran at fourteen, Grandad at sixteen and Grandma a week before my nineteenth birthday (thick and fast for a few years but those four are just the tip of the ice berg for grief and loss in those years - a subject for another blog at another time). She means the world to me although she drives me mad at the same time. As she ages she gets more belligerent, more critical, more narrow minded. She also is kind and loves her family to the ends of the world.
I watched Grandma slowly disappear to Alzheimer's over about eleven years and at times I'm not being overly dramatic when I say it damn near killed me. The idea of watching Grans body slowly give out on her over time breaks my heart. It's already doing that - her stroke, her emphysema, something wrong with her heart, rheumatoid arthritis. I just don't know how I'm going to manage to go through this again. And look after my lovely Mum at the same time who is terrified of what's happening.

These Are The Days Of Our Lives

It's A Nice Day For A White Wedding

My best friend got wed yesterday. I don't know if I can really put into words the range of emotions I felt throughout the course of the day. What I do know is that there is a 'lovely' photo of me in tears that my friend posted on facebook for the world to see: thanks Caz for that! It's a very strange feeling when friends marry, it took me a lot to get my head around Caz marrying five (?) years ago and this one wasn't any easier. I've spent a large amount of my twenties trying to ignore I'm technically an adult; something which is not getting any easier the closer I get to thirty. Watching friends marry is very much a slap in the face of a reminder that we are now adults and not teenagers anymore.
Jenn's been my friend since we were thirteen and passing notes in German about Arran on Byker Grove and how cute he was with his leather necklace - yes, we did even buy ourselves one and call it our Arran Band! This formed a sturdy base to what became a very good friendship in college which has continued through uni and to today. So when she and her lovely lovely husband were stood up there dedicating their lives to each other I was suddenly struck with an image of her in her Arran Band and school uniform, and the tears began for the first time of the day.
Chatting with her mum with tears flowing for I think the fourth time of the day we tried to make sense of the feelings - that everything has changed but everything is still the same. So although I have not lost my best friend (and she's probably berating me for even suggesting this if she's reading it!) I do feel that life has shifted - like the universe has had some kind of realignment over night.
My overwhelming feeling from the day was one of immense proudness - Jenn looked absolutely beautiful and so very happy, content and comfortable. I guess if I had to pick a word to describe Jenn and Chris it would be 'comfortable' - they're fantastic friends which makes them such a good couple. Chris has been part of my life for nine years now too and he's an important friend too, separate from them as a couple. I couldn't be happier or prouder of either of them.
It really was a very nice day for a very great white wedding!

But Maybe I'm Crazy, Maybe You're Crazy, Maybe We're Crazy, Probably

People may well want to have me sectioned after this blog entry, but it's something I've been thinking about and may be sending myself more crazy than I already am (which is an ironic comment given what I'm about to write).
I've spent the last year in therapy as a requirement of my course. Well it started off as a requirement of my course and ended up being for me. I know myself better now that I ever have, but at the same time the more I've got to know the more I think there still is that I don't really know or understand. Sometimes I think I'm quite a together person, and I'm pretty sure I often present this way to people - friends, family, colleagues, clients. Other times though I think I'm about three steps away from complete meltdown crazy. I don't know if this is just me, am I the only one who questions their own sanity (at what seems to be quite frequent intervals)?? Is the very fact that I question it enough to have me locked up? Or is me questioning it a sign of me being 'normal'? I live in fear that someone will turn around and tell me I'm too screwed up to be a counsellor. That they will take away the one good thing I really love. Then the moral questions start up: if I'm thinking this then should I walk away now? Or, do I trust the process I've gone through, the assessments I have had, the therapy I have had and the supervision I have still? Or is my problem none of them... is it that I WANT to be 'crazy'?? I've always cringed away from the word 'normal' - is this me being terrified that I've healed and I've become (horror of horrors) normal?? And if I have, why is that such a bad thing?
I don't know if there are answers to my questions. Or even what the question is that I'm trying to ask. I just know that sometimes I feel so totally fucked up and that scares me. Other times I feel so total together and that scares me too.

Sometimes It's Better To Be Second Best

Guess what I did last night? Yep, I continued my quest to become number one groupie for Jet Heeled Striker (a position that it looks like I have some competition for!). This time my journey took me to The Joiners in Southampton. The Joiners has a special place in the hearts of those musically inclined that grew up in and around Southampton. I have it under good authority that it has not altered in the last twenty years, and that's probably one of the great things about it - they're not show biz or image conscious: it's a place where people who love good music and new music and local music have given like minded people a place to access it. It's a place where dreams really have come true, and it's seen some famous people play inside its four walls - the likes of Oasis, Coldplay, The Libertines, We Are Scientists to name just a couple. When Adam told me that they were playing there, it felt like something really special. As brilliant as it is to be accepted to play anywhere when you're starting out and trying to get known, getting to play in The Joiners kind of felt like stepping up a level.
I do have something I need to say about going to watch them play as much as I do. As I've said, I've known Adam from school, and whether he believes me or not, I have always had faith in him and how talented he is, so of course I want to support my friend in his dreams. I'd support him regardless of whether or not I liked the music - maybe not so often but I'd still turn up! The reason I go though is because I genuinely enjoy their music, I love to watch them play and I love to watch them grow into what they're becoming and what they want to be. And last night was a really really good gig. The second song they played rocked the night for me. This will seem like an odd comparison but to me it was like a mix of early Manic Street Preachers and The Deftones. It was the music of my youth (god that makes me sound about one hundred years old). The music that made me realise that I was not the only one who felt the way I did and that other people were not happy to just accept things the way they are. It's the music that made me feel alive for the first time and still has that affect now. When I hear music like their second song it just works for me, it's music that makes sense to me. It's not the glamorous music that attracts the masses, but it's pure and honest and a bit rough around the edges. It's punk in it's attitude if not in it's sound. So the second song may be second best to a lot of people, but to me it's my favourite. Even more than Generation X. Sometimes it IS better to be second best.

Either This Or An Anarchist

I went to see Jet Heeled Striker in Hamptons again on Saturday. I'm not going to wax lyrical about them, because I have nothing terribly new to say! They were really good, one thing that did seem different is that they seemed very relaxed on stage. They have always looked comfortable but this weekend they definitely looked relaxed and it came through in their singing and playing. I wonder if it is because they have had independent praise of how good they are (from Live & Unsigned) that has given them this boost in confidence..... what ever it is that has caused this change, it's a good thing!
So to tie in the title of the blog, Adam said on stage that they may not be playing Generation X again for a while and to enjoy it - whilst I did enjoy it as much as ever, I wanted to be a mini anarchist for the night and insist they always play it! Bit of an odd link to the title I know, but I couldn't think of anything else to put with my drug pickled brain!

Days Of Future Past

I am 18 days away from the end of my Diploma of Higher Education in Humanist & Gestalt Counselling. This is the culmination of 5 and 1/2 years worth of work to get to this point. Well, not quite. Although the course ends in 12 days I still have another 48 hours of client work to do before I qualify. But as far as studying is concerned, this is the Big Kahuna. After that I get to call myself a counsellor, I can apply for counselling jobs, I can set myself up as a counsellor running my own business. And I've never been more terrified.
I've always had a plan of action, I've known what my next step is going to be and there's been a real safety in that. Now though, I'm out there, and I'm exposed and I have to feel my way in the dark. I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing. I'm trying to see it as an adventure and to be excited by it, but right now it frightens me. The realisation that I may still be doing the same shitty job for some time is enough to make a girl hit the bottle on its own.
You know that feeling of enormity, when you know something bit is about to happen and you're not sure if it's going to be brilliant or awful? That's how I feel now. I don't think I've ever felt so much at a crossroads with my past and my future. And I have no idea where that future path will take me, because it's for me to mark the way.

Love Is The Drug

Jet Heeled Striker
Live & Unsigned Regional Final
Ferneham Hall

Watching Jet Heeled Striker play today was a very different experience to previously. This time it was at the Live & Unsigned Regional Final with fourteen other acts and was in the middle of the day. Their job was to wow the judges and the audience well enough to be picked as one of the seven acts going through to the next stage of the competition.
Despite really hoping they would make it, I was preparing myself to console them - I know how I feel about their music but I had no control over the rest of the audiences voted. I have mentioned before that I find it hard to watch them objectively and know if they're as good as I think they are. So it was with a nervous anticipation I settled in my chair to watch the fifteen hopefuls with my friends Sue and Nicky.

At the end of the first two acts, I was beginning to think it would be a long afternoon. They were okay, but very dull to watch, neither act kept my attention or gave me that spine tingly feeling I was hoping for. Next on were Jet Heeled Striker. Most acts were playing a song of their own and a cover version of another artists work. I've never heard them play anything but their own work - part of what I love about them is that they're not your ten-a-penny pub band doing yet another mundane version of Build Me Up Buttercup. So I was intrigued to see how they were at playing someone else's work - would it have the passion and sense of 'themness' that their own work has? They covered Johnny Cash's seminal track Ring Of Fire. Which happens to be one of my most favourite songs ever. I generally hate anyone touching my favourite tracks, I get very possessive over them and think you shouldn't mess with genius. However, I loved it. I grinned like a teenager on their first magic mushroom experience; it was bright, it was rocking, it was modern, it was Johnny Cash, it was Jet Heeled Striker, and it did justice to a fantastic song. I love the Johnny Cash version, and I honestly loved their interpretation too. They didn't just play it as a straight copy, but they kept enough of it to make it an intelligent and respectful version of a classic. I. Loved. It.

The other track they played was The First Gay President. I had that spine tingly thing that their music gives me and was so obviously missing from several of the other acts playing today. Don't get me wrong, their was some tough competition up there, and some very unique and impressive acts. What was evident today was how many good artists their are out there, and just how much success or failure is in the laps of the Gods. I really felt for those who didn't get their names read out to go through to the next round. But happily I didn't have to console my friend and his band. Seems like I was right to trust my feelings after all, other people do see what I see in these five lads from Hampshire.

I realised today that each time I see them play or hear their music I get a buzz off it. That feeling in a club when your pilled up and they're playing something like Insomnia by Faithless; the way the rhythm gets into you, it pulses through your veins and you feel invincible - that's how I feel when I see them. I get a high. A legal high this time though! Each time I've seen them has coincided with when I've had a major piece of coursework due in a couple of days after. And each time I've been so buzzing from watching them play that I've worked right through the night until the work is done - the adrenaline pulsing through my veins has inspired me and woken me up.

I love this band. I love the drug like reaction I get from watching them. And I will be racing back across the country from my best friends wedding to see them in the next round of the competition.

The Lyrics Do Matter

It's become my 'thing' to quote lyrics or names of songs as my titles to my blog entries. The title of this one isn't a complete quote because, ironically (given the subject matter!) I don't know the actual quote. It's from a new song by Jet Heeled Striker which was played as part of tonights set at Hamptons in Southampton. Given that this is my third review of seeing them play, I guess I can now call it one of my 'things' - writing about how they were when I see them live. So here goes....
Tonights review is starting with me telling the truth about me and music. It's quite a sad admission (sad stupid, not sad upsetting) that when I hear music live that just feels right and touches something inside me in a way I can't really explain in words, I have what I can only describe as a chemical reaction to it that makes me cry. It's my belief that I cry because the music gets to me and for that space in time everything else falls away and it's like the music is in sync with my soul. The first time I remember it happening was when my parents first played me The Doors. I didn't love it instantly, I thought it was okay if not a bit loud and bangy - but I was only about 7 at the time. I did well up though and I felt an immenseness from it that I couldn't and can't explain. I do remember that day moment like it was yesterday though. Now, I'm not comparing Jet Heeled Striker to The Doors - as much as I love JHS, even I can't justify that comparison just yet. But tonight I did cry though. It was during a song which previously I've enjoyed but wouldn't class as one of my favourites, for that matter I don't even know it's name. It was a love song. Not a gushy blah blah love song, but one written for and about the disaffected Generation X that we are a part of. It was not a rock ballad, I can only describe it as being what it was. Which is one of the things I love about this band; they're not one thing or another, they're them.
Tonight I took with me two friends who are a little older than people I've previously gone with, and who are both well into their music. I was keen to know what their take on JHS was. On one of our many fag breaks of the evening, I voiced my concern to one of them that although I try to be objective about Jet Heeled Striker and how good their music is, that I can't ever really get that objectivity. She was very quick to assure me that they were indeed in her words "pretty awesome" and individual. She took a real shine to Generation X, and was more excited when she realised she could listen to it again on the way home on my i-pod! She then made me promise to take her along next time they were playing as she would love to see them again.
One of the things I've mentioned in both previous reviews is how cohesive they are as a unit. This really came through again tonight, they play like a band rather than five individuals who happen to be playing the same song. They are not dominated by one member more than the others, you can hear Adams beautiful voice clearly but he does not hog the lime light, there are plenty of times throughout when the deep pulse of the base guitar becomes the focal point, or some time is given to a drum solo. But it doesn't feel like it's a show-casing either, or an orchestration but together purely to make sure everyone is noticed. It is there because these guys are intelligent enough to create songs that they are all a part of. As I said, they're a band in the truest sense and it's working.
I'm ending this blog with a thank you: Thank you Jet Heeled Striker for making me cry. That's the best reaction I can give to music, and it comes totally from my soul.

Paint It Black

Pride (In The Name Of Love)

I actually have about 3 things I want to write about, but instead, tonight, I am not going to write about any of them. I am going to write about my best friend instead.
I love her, she knows that, I love her enough to even go to Frankfurt and be holed up in a hotel room for 48 hours poorly and enjoy it! That's not what I'm writing about though. It struck me when sat in a very long, very cold, very boring line of frost bitten cars on the way to work this morning how totally proud of her I am. She's had a very busy and rather tough past twelve months in many ways and she's come out of it unscathed and as headstrong and positive as ever!
I was thinking about this because she's just taken on her bosses job at work - which is enough on it's own, but this she is doing this alongside planning her wedding which is in just 16 weeks and 4 days! On top of this, she finished her masters in November, as well as worrying about and supporting family through issues. Lesser people would have fallen way before now.
One of the most surprising things about her though is that she has no idea how strong she really is. She has more than one rather screwey friends (I am including me in that number!) who she is a constant life line and support too which is unwavering and immense. It takes a strong person to handle one such friend like me, but to support several takes a special person.
So given the stresses and pressures she's dealt with over the last twelve months from her friendship, masters, family, health, wedding and work - as well as the pressures she puts on herself anyway - I think I'm justified in saying I'm proud of her.

This Is The Dawning Of The Age Of Aquarius

Aquarius
20 Jan-19 Feb
In ancient Rome the Aquarius was responsible for civic plumbing, for rich and poor alike - a role that fused practical and social engineering. Modern astrology likewise sees the Water Bearer as a dispenser of social and technological innovation - Aquarius is tied to the advent of human rights, television and the internet.
In 2009, Aquarians have the chance to exhibit their humanitarian qualities, their inventiveness and creativity (we'll pass over their stubborn refusal to listen to advice). The passage of Jupiter through one's skies is a 'lucky' omen - this is the planet of nobility and abundance - but its meeting with Neptune promises you inspiration on a grand scale. Moreover, this once in a lifetime event means you're tied into the collective zeitgeist of 2009.
1997 and 1985, your previous Jupiter years, may provide clues to your outlook in 2009, while anyone born in 1962 (a mega Aquarian year) looks in luck.
Barack Obama's phrase 'The audacity of hope' neatly sums up the meaning of Jupiter (boldness) and Neptune (idealism); indeed, the conjunction ties helpfully into Obama's own horoscope (a Leo with Aquarius prominent) and that of Sarah Palin (born 11 Feb 64), who shows that the glamorous touch of Neptune often comes tainted by scandal and bluff. Palin also illustrates that there's a thin line between Aquarius's readiness to march out of step and being what one aide termed 'a whack job'.
Whatever your agenda, the four months following the new Moon of 26 January are the time for boldness and vision. Travel, education and publishing (Jupiter's traditional associations) are all favoured, as are digital and internet ventures. As the image you project to the world tends to stick, scheme accordingly.
The tiny planetoid Chiron, also in residence in your skies, lends you a healing touch - good for the salving of old emotional wounds. The midsummer solstice signals a few months of consolidation for business and career affairs. The mechanics of work - office, studio - may need fine tuning, while the omens are strong for the flush of summer romance and croquet on velvet lawns.
With September set to be unobliging (and with a financial twist), you may like to postpone your push for world domination until October. Thereafter your energies find a ready response and long-term traction, a following wind that blows you through to the steadier climes of 2010.

From The Observer (thanks Jenn!)