But then again, that might have been a dream

For reasons, I haven’t been writing about what’s been going on in my head. But I feel like I need to get this out and the person I would like to talk about it most doesn’t want to listen.

Reader, I fell for someone. So hard. Every time he opened his mouth to say something, it was what I secretly hoped to hear. I felt I could be honest, and admitted things to him, including things I’ve never discussed with anyone. Like, how the most painful part of the break up of my marriage was losing the possibility for the daughter I was so sure we would have had. As much as I am glad I’ve never had a child with any of my exes, I do want to be a mother. And I’d just about made my peace with accepting it wasn’t going to happen for me. I’m 37 and I don’t even know if I could have a baby without medical interventions, that window is all but closed.

Then this guy sent me a message on OK Cupid. I was stupid and naïve and full of wishful thinking. I let him in, and pretty much drew an X on my chest and asked him to take aim. I should, by now, after everything I’ve lived through, know better than to believe a man who says he loves me. As long as I’m cute and funny and sexy and insecure about all of those things, but need no reassurance or support in dealing with my neuroses then it’s plain sailing. 

When I turned to him for a little reassurance – his behaviour suddenly changed, depression and past experience lead my reaction before I was fully aware of what it was making me do – it blew up in my face. Instead of reassurance, I got a load of vitriolic invective, including a few unnecessary things included solely to wound. All because I was trying to stand up for my needs, for once.

Maybe there are men out there who are capable of empathy and don’t react so poorly when things aren’t only about them, and are capable of apologies, but I’m out. I cannot do this again.

I’m done.




And the riddle gets solved

These past few months have been tough. My mental health has been on a slow decline, panic and anxiety attacks have been more frequent, days spent in bed watching the light that spills around the blind crawl across the wall and fade have been featuring more and more.

And yet, I didn’t feel depressed for the most part. There were many days I could put on the mask and pretend to be something like normal, but only around the people I trust enough to know it’s a pretence and go with it anyway.

The worst thing is, I met someone quite by accident. I was using OKCupid and Tinder purely for the lols (and OKC served up some zingers) and to reassure myself that being single was really pretty good. And then I saw someone on Tinder who had a nice smile. I swiped right. So did he. Messaging turned into phone calls that last for hours and we met a couple of times. This all started two weeks ago. Two weeks, and I feel broken and bloodied.

I don’t usually make any effort to meet men. My relationship history is terrible. Besides the actual criminal acts committed upon my person, most of the other men I’ve been involved with took advantage of my battered self esteem and low expectations, and I have been used for sex by several men, who weren’t even the worst of what I’ve experienced. It’s only very recently that I’ve sort of realised that this isn’t normal and the rest of my life doesn’t have to follow this pattern. I don’t have to accept whatever is tossed my way, because it’s all I deserve and all I’m worth. Keep in mind that I don’t really know how to relationship.

Things were going really well with this guy, considering it was only a couple of weeks. We spoke regularly. Kissing was good, the hugs were very comfortable. Conversation was open and honest. And then an old friend of his announced she was in love with him.

This was a bombshell for him. I remember when the EvilEx, who was dating a friend of mine at the time, announced that he had feelings for me. I remember not knowing what to think, or do. I remember wanting to get drunk. I remember being really angry with him, for upsetting the applecart. I think I got into a relationship with him after that because I think I felt like I should, regardless of how I might have felt about the matter. Because we did, and I still have nightmares, 15 years later.

But when S told me about his friend, that’s not what came to mind. I remembered TCID telling me that he wouldn’t always back me up. That I was wrong about how much his ex-wife loathed me. Her telling him, the morning before we married, that she’d slept with someone who wasn’t him for the very first time. Him telling me that sometimes, he’d pick her over me. I remembered the guy I got involved with a couple of years ago, who wanted to sleep with me and another woman, which I was fine with but she wasn’t, so I said no (I was experimenting with poly relationships at the time) and he ditched me for her, even though she was declaring love for him after 2 dates.

I’ve never been someone’s first choice. I would like to be someone’s preferred choice. Of all the options available, they chose me. And really, properly, me. Not the little sliver of me that they think is cute, or sexy or whatever. Not the version of me that exists only between their ears. The me that is funny and silly and can’t decide what nail polish to use, that also gets angry and sad and just needs to be held and occasionally fed tea and biscuits. Someone who is willing to do the emotional labour of helping me work out how to have a healthy relationship.

The man I’d been seeing for 2 weeks did not want a relationship with his friend. He also doesn’t want a relationship with me. I am very sad about this.

After everything I’ve lived through, it takes a lot for me to consider letting a man into my life and show him exactly where I’m vulnerable. I’m disappointed that things fell apart so quickly. Of all the things to happen, why did it have to be this specific thing? It’s like the universe saw that I might be potentially happy, so threw an almighty bomb in my path. And there’s nothing I can do to change how things are. Nothing at all.

I am small and needy

The funny thing is, I don’t feel depressed.

I don’t wake and immediately regret it, or wish that I could somehow just cease to exist. I am lacking in the motivation to do anything. I wake up and I don’t know what to do with my day. Admittedly, because I haven’t been able to sleep until about 3am (or later), it’s not like there’s hours and hours of day stretching out ahead of me when I do wake. I’m bored by all the podcasts I usually enjoy, I can’t really be bothered to play with makeup or paint my nails or brush my hair. And, as ever, I’ve not really been eating properly. One might think that a loss of appetite like this would lead to weight loss, but nope. Maybe it’s hormones or my age or the medication, or the fact that I’ll eat 3 bags of Hula Hoops and call that a meal, but I’m not fitting into my clothes any better. In fact, there’s another stretch mark on my stomach.

I’m watching Scandal as much out of inertia as anything else. I could watch Star Trek, but I think I’m afraid that that won’t reach me, and if that doesn’t reach me then I am depressed.

Anyway. My psychology appointment is tomorrow morning, so maybe things won’t slide much further this time.


You can’t see that I’m just the same as all the stupid people you hate

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Some friends are involved in putting on gigs in the Glasgow area; they’ve just announced a weekender in February with all profits going to Sarcoma UK in memory of Carey Lander, of Camera Obscura.

I do have other things that I want to write about, but it’s 12.34am and insomnia has been kicking my arse for a few weeks, so I’d really better go and listen to podcasts in my bed until I finally doze off about 4.30am. If I’m lucky, the guy who lives downstairs will go out without his dog just after 9 and not come back until I’ve given up and hauled myself out of my bed and made tea. If I’m extra, super-duper lucky, he’ll play November Rain. Loud (enough that I can Hear. The. Lyrics.) Twice.

One day, I’m going to play my 7″ of Used To Love Him by L7, a Guns ‘n’ Roses cover (btw: the original song, given Axl Rose’s history involving Erin Everly, is really creepy. Not so much this cover, but that could just be me. And the patriarchy) as loud as I possibly can (which should be pretty loud) but I’m not quite there yet.

A list of standard-issue regrets

So, it seems that when the anxiety gets unmanageable, I buy lipstick. If things don’t change, this could get expensive, but in the meantime Superdrug has started carrying Freedom makeup, and the big branch in town has the whole Iconic Pro line in the Makeup Revolution section. In fact, I picked up the Far Away lip collection today, but it was a gift for a friend who is a gigantic Star Wars nerd, as well as a makeup lover. And I already have it, it would be silly to buy it twice. Duh.

But I am not so organised as to be writing about today’s haul, oh no. As well as an irresistible urge to buy every lipstick I see (that I don’t already own), I’ve been sleeping really badly and getting endless tension headaches. If I can stop buying lipstick long enough, I may actually go for a professional massage. Or pop a couple more painkillers and start experimenting with purple lips. At the weekend, I went to the nearest branch of Wilko’s and bought some Essence products.

trust me, it tastes pretty rank

Lip-tacular. No, I don’t recommend nail polish on your lips.

I specifically wanted to pick up a couple of their lipliners, having heard good things about them on YouTube, and still wanting a nice pinky-neutral colour that dovetails nicely with the ongoing quest for the MLBB lipstick. The ones I bought are Soft Berry, Satin Mauve and In The Nude.

Next time; bigger swatches.

Next time; bigger swatches. (L-R: Satin Mauve, Soft Berry, In The Nude)

As they’re £1 each, I won’t be dreadfully upset if they’re not brilliant, but they went on the back of my hand pretty well. Satin Mauve feels the nearest to what I’m trying to find, but I’ll give it a few tests before deciding one way or the other. They should work reasonably well with the next products I purchased; liquid lipsticks.

For some reason, I only took a photo of one of them – Beauty Secret – but aside from the colour, they’re pretty much the same.

The imaginatively titled liquid lipstick.

The imaginatively titled liquid lipstick.

The packaging is cute. I think I’ve seen a Maybelline (or Bourjois?) product with the same idea; clear tube with the product cavity shaped to look like a lipstick bullet. The texture is like thick lipgloss, it has an inoffensive smell of slightly fruity candy and while I’m delighted by the shape of the applicator, I’m not sure that liquid lipsticks and I are destined to live happily ever after.

More like a duck bill?

More like a duck bill?

It turns out that, also when I’m anxious and stressed, I have a habit of pressing my lips together, and biting on the insides of them. When wearing liquid lipstick (and other lip products, if I’m liberal with their application) this pushes all the product to the edges of my lips. In no time at all, I’d given myself a strange ombre effect (being charitable to myself) – most of the product was in the centre of my mouth, with the rest around the edges like a thick, gloopy layer of unusually thick, gloopy lip liner. This also happens with regular lipstick, it just takes longer and is generally a little less noticeable, unless I’m wearing red or bright pink. Anyway. Your mileage may vary, nervous lip biting aside.

I suck at swatching. (L-R: Beauty Secret, Peach Party, Make A Statement)

I suck at swatching. (L-R: Beauty Secret, Peach Party, Make A Statement)

This pressy-bitey habit of mine might not be so much of an issue with the Sheer & Shine lipsticks I picked up. Years (like, 20 or more) ago, I had this lipstick (that might have originally been my Mum’s) that was a sheer red. Mum said it looked really nice on me, so since then I’ve had a soft spot for sheer red lipsticks.

I can't think of a good sheer pun. Send help. Or buckets of Earl Grey. (Hot.) (Top: Cute Nude, Bottom: Be Happy)

I can’t think of a good sheer pun. Send help. Or buckets of Earl Grey. (Hot.) (Top: Cute Nude, Bottom: Be Happy)

I’m a sucker for colour names, so the red being called Be Happy appealed to me in the same way a life ring appeals to someone 10 minutes away from drowning in an ocean. With hindsight, I’m not sure why I picked up Cute Nude. It doesn’t make much of a difference to how my lips look, though it does make them shiny…

L: Be Happy, R: Cute Nude

L: Be Happy, R: Cute Nude

And highlights what I’m starting to think is a mutant hair on the back of my hand… Cute Nude will be good for those no-makeup-makeup days. On balance, I have more no-makeup days than no-makeup-makeup days, but don’t tell anyone.

The nail polish I bought is Serendipity from The Gel line. After finally looking it up in a dictionary, I’ve discovered that it’s what mauve actually is; a lilacy-grey. I tried it the day I bought it; it goes on nicely. It’s possibly a one-coater, if you’re very careful and don’t do anything while it’s drying, otherwise it’s an easy two coats. Unfortunately, I’m awful at painting my left hand, so made such a mess of it that I ended up taking it all off. I’m now trying a Sally Hansen Nail Growth Miracle colour in the hopes of growing my nails out a bit and them not breaking and peeling, but Serendipity is definitely a colour I’ll use frequently.

You’d be forgiven for thinking the lip product frenzy stopped there, but you’d be wrong.

MUA brought out two new lipstick colours, and I found one of them the other day. I have since found the other (Vintage Rouge) because I think I was looking in the wrong place. Superdrug have revamped their makeup displays in some stores, it’s all very bright and shiny and confused my poor brain that wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders anyway.



Mulberry is a rather pretty pink-leaning purple. By the stain on my hand after swatching it in store, it’s quite well pigmented, too. I haven’t had an opportunity to wear it yet, so I can’t say what it looks like on but it’s that typical autumn lip colour, if a bit more purple.

More mulberry. What's the nursery rhyme about a mulberry bush?

More mulberry. And the mutant hand hair.

The last thing I picked up was a Makeup Revolution Colour Block gift set in red.

None more red.

None more red.

Each set contains an Iconic Pro lipstick, a matchy-matching nail polish and an also-coordinating lipgloss. The website says there’s a “VAMP” option available, but I’ve only seen the red and pink sets on the shelves. The lipstick isn’t labelled (nor are the nail polish or lipgloss; as far as I’m aware MUR discontinued their nail polishes a few months ago) but based on the available choices and it not being matte, it’s either Propaganda or Duel (£2.49). The gloss appears to be Amazing Lipgloss in Hot. I did take a swatch photo, but realised later that it was a bit out of focus, so decided not to edit it for uploading. While my swatch photos are pretty awful, I do have a threshold for what I’ll deem acceptable.

The gloss is fine for what it is, but I’ve never really been a gloss girl. When I’ve tried to wear it, it’s always been on days where the wind unfailingly comes from behind me and my hair’s loose. And if it doesn’t rub off, or wear off, I’ve found that gloss – regardless of the brand – eventually dries to a really strange residue. Gloss and I have never really gotten along, and over time I’ve found I prefer a bold, matte lip anyway. I don’t think the few lipglosses I own have taken it especially hard, either.

I’m glad I bought the set for £4; it’s labelled as being £7 normally. The last time I saw nail polish on the Revolution site it was £1 each. The boxes may well be limited edition, but I’m not sure they’re worth £2 – £2.50. But I’m an auld cynical bastard, what do I know? I may yet pick up the pink box for Ari, who adores fuschia lips. As long as it’s still £4, mind. It’s not Star Wars branded or themed, so I’m not paying seven quid for it!

If it’s not asking too much

I decided to deactivate my OK Cupid account. When I got a new phone a couple of weeks ago (the day the iPhone 6S launched, but I’m an Android person myself. Teenage crush on Data, or something) I deliberately didn’t install the app on it. In fact, I think when I finally figured out the Samsung smart switch app, it transferred from my old phone so I had to delete it from the new one. I’m a bit jaded with the rigmarole. My preferred method of looking at potential matches was via the Quickmatch; but if I read one more profile that contains the sentiment of seeking to live life to the full… And the photos, oh, the photos.

Dudes, selfies from below are not flattering. They are, in fact, worse than bathroom mirror selfies. Also, wearing sunglasses makes you look like a bit of a dickhead. Photos in which you’re wrapped up in sports gear does communicate that you like the outdoors, but it does also mean I have no idea what you look like, which does matter but not as much as you might think. And if I can see your feet, add another photo which is something closer to a headshot. Does your face literally look the same in every photo? Then you don’t need all those photos, you’re not Derek Zoolander.

And messages that are literally “Hi x”? Srsly? My profile isn’t exactly skimping on information, surely there’s something you can use as an opener there? No? Okay then.


Anyway. My standards are much higher than they used to be. Not because I have a massively high opinion of myself; more that I’ve put up with so much shit from men in relationships that I’m not compromising or settling anymore. And I have a lot of stuff to sort out within myself. Case in point: the last guy I was seeing. I wanted to be friends. Just friends. He wanted more, so out of some strange learned reflex or something, we became more. I told him, several times, that I wanted the Spock Funko POP! figure for my birthday. He had had plans for some other gift, which never happened. Alos for my birthday, I wanted to go out with friends. I got outside and pretty much had a panic attack. He was too busy going on about how awful a person he was to even notice. It was a supportive relationship, in a sense. I provided a lot of support. When we broke up, I needed space to process things – there’s a lot of other relationship stuff been kicked up in the last few months and I need to deal with it, which is mostly why I’m on that waiting list – and he wasn’t keen. I got a delightful email complaining that I’d asked for a couple of weeks; it had been a month or something. I cannot deal with any more male entitlement. This guy was nothing like the worst, but it’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. And I’m really not into animal cruelty or suffering. The thing that killed any possibility of friendship was his response to me tweeting about watching an episode of DS9 that just makes me weep helplessly. I think I’ve written about this before, nearer to when it happened.

Ever since an ex told me I was at my “most beautiful when [I] cry”, when I was full on howling and sobbing and drooling on the floor with the pain (I was horribly depressed at the time) I’ve been even less of a crier than I was before. Especially when it comes to depression and feeling sad for no external reason. (I cried at my granny’s funeral. I’m not inhuman. I tear up when I think about life once Maggie goes, but I try to not think about that ever.) So when I feel like I need to have a cry, I need something to act as a catalyst. The last episode of Fraiser works too, as does reading Like Water for Chocolate. This particular evening, I deliberately watched The Visitor because elderly Jake Sisko dying in his father’s arms to save him, Jake putting his whole life aside to try to rescue his father, the acting… No, your nose is prickling just thinking about it.

Anyone seeing that I was tweeting about crying would, I hope, respond with a jedi hug or send some kitty cuddles. Not this guy, no. He emailed all about his feelings. I haven’t reread the email lately, but I struggled to make sense of it. The friends who also read it also couldn’t make sense of it, but they drew conclusions that I agree with, so I cut contact in every possible way.

I’m tired of being the supporting cast in the story of someone else’s life, or the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. Not that I want to flip things; I’d prefer things to be much more equitable. Someone who will support me, as well. Who will do silly little things for me, just because. One ex liked Haribo Tangfastics or whatever they’re called, so I would get them for him. Even though I don’t eat them myself. Even though the sound of someone chewing them is like nails down a blackboard. It never occurred to him that he could do anything like that for me. Though the production he made about getting me soya milk for my tea apparently counted. That guy had some pretty big daddy issues (despite his dad being alive and in the other fucking room), as well as a substance dependency problem. And made it pretty clear that he though depression medication was the weak way out. And that he thought feminism was female supremacism. And that transphobia wasn’t that bad, really. No, I have no idea why I stayed with him as long as I did. The sex was pretty good… Anyway.

Out of all the straight, available men in an age range that doesn’t give me the creeps, there has to be one that meets my deal-breaker criteria. And maybe a few of the optional extras. As far as I can see, he’s not on OK Cupid. He’s probably not even in Scotland, knowing my luck. Well, maybe in a year or so (once I’ve worked on the issues I have, and dealt with other ongoing stuff that’s stressing me out) he will be. I’ll just snuggle with Maggie and hang out with my friends, and continue to be happy that they’re nearly all loved up to the eyeballs. I’m only very slightly envious for a few minutes here and there. I’ll survive 😉


All the dreams you conceive

As it’s World Mental Health Day, I feel like I should write a bit about my mental health. I should note that I mention being depressed and touch on suicidal thoughts, which might be triggering for people who are depressed.


I’ve been actively getting treatment for depression for most of the past 18 years, since I was 18. Of course, I was ill for years before that, but didn’t really know it. I can’t point to any part of my life, save for when I was really, really young, and say I wasn’t ill then. Maybe about the age of 10 or 11 things started to fade out? I don’t know. A side effect of being ill for me is that my short term memory can get really patchy. I can forget the beginning of a sentence when I’m trying to talk to someone. My last really bad period, a couple of years ago, I found that it was really hard to read – to the extent that it really upset me. Reading has been my thing pretty much from the time I got my first library card, so not being able to read cuts to the bone.

I’m in a good(ish) period just now. My memory is fairly functional (at 3am the long term section is perhaps a bit too functional) and I can get out of bed most days without forcing myself, and before midday. I’m showering regularly and wearing clean clothes. I can even go outside and be on busy streets. Life has regained most of its’ colour.

The thing about living with chronic clinical depression is that there’s always a bit of me waiting for the other shoe to drop. I still find it hard to make future plans. This used to be because I couldn’t visualise still being alive in the future, now it’s more a case of not knowing if I will be able to do anything on any given date. I struggle to imagine a week from now. This also makes budgeting a bit difficult. Even buying fresh vegetables can be a bad idea, because I’ll lose all motivation to do anything with them and eat toast instead, when I finally muster the energy to move. Then the veggies go bad and then I eventually bin them. On the upside, I have also discovered that veggies still roast fine a day or two past their best.

And I never know if I’m going to wake up and just wish to pop out of existence. Doctors always ask if that’s any part of suicidality – probably because the NHS is set up for people in crisis so they need to know if I need to be sent to hospital or not – which it isn’t. I’ve attempted suicide several times, I know what it feels like to actively want to end my life. Wanting to have never existed is quite different. The days I wake up and that’s all I can feel… Part of me knows they’ll pass and I’ll feel better in a day or two or three, but I also know those days will always come back again. The fear is that they’ll come back and never go away.

However, I have always felt better eventually. There’s a lot of things I do now, that I know should stop the descent. I paint my nails (sometimes even both hands!) I have a cup of tea. Earl Grey. Hot. I watch some Star Trek. I listen to music – my playlist entitled Pant Dancing is specifically for those days I need a lift. And, this is important, I try to reach out to friends. I’ve been extremely lucky to find a group of friends in the last couple of years who all have mental health issues of their own. They’re much easier to talk to, and we all support each other when it’s needed; whether it’s talking through stuff or just hanging out and talking shite about nothing. Sometimes I go running, something I honestly never thought I’d like, never mind actually enjoy. And other times I play Skyrim. Cuddling my cat, Maggie, is also reliably uplifting.

One other thing that I’ve learned to do is to not beat myself up for having a bad day. I feel bad enough without doubling down on myself! It’s okay to stay in bed if needed. It’s okay if all I managed to do was make 6 cups of tea and watch half a season of DS9.

Hopefully I’m nearing the top of the waiting list for psychological services and maybe by next year the bad days will be much fewer and further between.

Anyway, here’s a much better article about Lies Depression Tells You, with useful contact information for support services at the end.




It seemed like rainbows would appear

Mascara is probably the make up item I wear most. My lashes are a bit on the light side, so I really like how one coat of black mascara makes a huge difference on my face. At the moment, I’m really liking Maybelline The Falsies Volum’ Express Flared. After hearing many folks raving about the Lash Sensational, I did buy that too, but I’m not quite convinced yet. The formula is very watery, which is good for not clumping as you’re applying it, but it does mean that I always get it all over my eyelids, and sometimes in my tightline (light lashes that are very blonde at the roots. Yay!) You know how there’s a number of folks on YouTube do their eye makeup first, so the fallout doesn’t wreck their base? I’m very much a mascara first gal. Did I miss an important memo about how to get the damned stuff on, but not on one’s skin?


I’m still trying to find that holy grail My Lips But Better lipstick. So, naturally, I bought Makeup Revolution’s Unicorns Unite lipstick range.

L-R: Magical, Throne, Magical, Legend, Horn of Magic

L-R: Magical, Throne, Magical, Legend, Horn of Magic

Silver turquoise, perfect for that carbon monoxide glam, no?

Horn of Magic: Silver turquoise, perfect for that carbon monoxide glam, no?

A purple leaning greyish silver. More wearable than that sounds.

Legend: A purple leaning greyish silver. More wearable than that sounds.

Metallic violet. Makes me think of blue/violet duochrome colours.

Magical: Metallic violet. Makes me think of blue/violet duochrome colours.

More Barbie pink IRL. I like this more than I was expecting (not that I thought I was going to hate it.)

Pink Myth: More Barbie pink IRL. I like this more than I was expecting (not that I thought I was going to hate it.)

A silvery lilac. Very shiny.

Throne: A silvery lilac. Very shiny.

Okay, I got a little snap happy...

Okay, I got a little snap happy…

Of course, I did also purchase other lipsticks that are more neutral colours, also from Revolution.

I’ve been after some more of the Iconic Pro lipsticks since buying Game of Mystery matte and finding it was a bit too light for my taste.

Iconic Pro lipstick: You're A Star (L) and Looking Ahead (R)

Iconic Pro lipstick: You’re A Star (L) and Looking Ahead (R)

This is so close to my natural lip colour I wasn't sure it was going on at first.

You’re A Star: This is so close to my natural lip colour I wasn’t sure it was going on at first.

Looking Ahead: My lips but better?

Looking Ahead: My lips but better?

These two certainly fit the bill much better. I’ll need to wear You’re A Star some more, at the moment it’s more of a My Lips, No Difference shade. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing! It certainly hides the bits where the skin has been flaking and peeling and going quite red.

Dare to be Different: Regardless of anything else, this is definitely the prettiest packaging. Shiny.

Dare to be Different: Regardless of anything else, this is definitely the prettiest packaging. Shiny.

Dare to be Different: Possibly more MLBB than Looking Ahead.

Dare to be Different: Possibly more MLBB than Looking Ahead.

#liphug Keeps The Planet Spinning (L) and Love Can Set You Free (R)

#liphug Keeps The Planet Spinning (L) and Love Can Set You Free (R)

Keeps The Planet Spinning: bought as much for the name as the colour, but it's a pain to keep typing out!

Keeps The Planet Spinning: bought as much for the name as the colour, but it’s a pain to keep typing out!

Love Can Set You Free: I was getting tired of looking at my lips, so went for a jaunty angle.

Love Can Set You Free: I was getting tired of looking at my lips, so went for a jaunty angle.

I’m thoroughly fed up of looking at photos of my lips now. Sorry.

The last three lipsticks, I ❤ Makeup Lip Geek Dare to be Different and the #liphugs (I can’t quite bring myself to type the names all out again) are currently in the end of season sale. I may yet panic buy a couple more Dare to be Different as I really like the colour, as well as the formula. And the shiny shiny packaging. Also, I can’t smell anything from that particular lipstick, which is surprisingly nice.

The Iconic Pro lipsticks smell faintly like vanilla or butterscotch Angel Delight (maybe too specific a reference for most, but I know what I mean) which isn’t unpleasant, but a bit too unnatural for me to want to keep sniffing at it, you know? The #liphugs smell like lipstick. Not cheap lipstick. Nothing to complain about, put it that way. It makes me think of grown up women, like my Mum or Granny, and their lipsticks. The Unicorns Unite colours (and other £1 lipsticks from Revolution I’ve already got) smell like fruity sherbert, which makes a nice change to vanilla or rose.

In other news, I’m still playing Skyrim. I’m on to my 4th companion (5th, if you count Meeko); Lydia is now the steward of the house I built near Falkreath and spends her days mining a depleted iron vein; Jordis the Sword-Maiden joined me after Lydia changed roles but had some sort of fight with Serana on the way through a crypt, so has joined the ancestors that were interred there. Once I’d recovered from the loss of Jordis (or maybe just when I got back to Solitude), I hired Belrand. Serana requested to go with me for a specific vampire quest (possibly to find her mother) so I had to let Belrand go for now. I’m liking Serana, for all that she complains about the weather and being outdoors. She’s yet to say “Look, a cave. I wonder what’s inside?” when we’ve just cleared the cave in question, or right before we go in and I’m observing the bloody corpses lying outside. She’s yet to have “a bad feeling about this” as we sneak into somewhere obviously a bit dangerous. After 500+ hours of charging (okay, sneaking. Despite my best intentions, I always end up sneaking everywhere.) around Skyrim, hearing Lydia resentfully saying that she’s “sworn to carry my burdens” is possibly more grating than the cheeky guards who go on about sweetrolls or how maybe they’re the Dragonborne. Next one to say that gets shouted at. And I’d pay all the gold in Tamriel for companions who don’t blunder into every available trap. Ah well. Maybe it’s the weight of all the stuff I make them carry…

Out of spoon error. Please retry later.

I made the mistake of thinking I was over the cold sufficiently to charge around doing things this past week. Today, I woke at 1pm and really had to will myself to get up, and the cold was back. Having lain on the sofa and watched most of season 5 of DS9, I feel less awful, which is good. I’ve also discovered that I really like hot sweetened soya milk with some kind of flavour added. Chai teabags work, assuming I don’t try to set fire to the tag, and they don’t burst while infusing.

I’ve also added to the list of requirements for any potential partners: must give good foot rubs, and possibly back/neck massage; will happily watch 12 hours or more of Star Trek and enjoy it; will listen and pay attention (as Rom demonstrates before getting together with Leeta, when he talks about the Pagh Wraiths in the episode The Assignment) (and appreciate what I’m referring to right there).

Gonna try to sleep now. Even though the supermoon eclipse is happening in an hour. Sadly, I have to be up in the morning and it’s important that I’m not fuzzyheaded.

So lazy, lazy, lazy

The cold has moved from my head and into my chest. As I’m prone to bronchitis, this means a lot of gasping and feeling like I’m on the verge of a panic attack as I can’t get a deep enough breath. Fun for all the family!

It also means that I’ve not been doing much these past few days, except Netflix bingeing. Yesterday, I watched Monsters University. It was enjoyable, if a bit predictable at times, and sorely lacking in female characters. It would not pass the Bechdel Test. But the CGI was beautiful. I dunno, I feel conflicted when I watch movies made for a young audience. Yes, they’re good clean fun, and there’s often jokes for grown ups in them, but the messages that slip in unnoticed… Inside Out was good in this regard; the main protagonists were more female than male, but the stuff with the parents being so rigidly gendered? What was with the generically South American helicopter pilot anyway? My feminist laser vision never really switches off, but wearing glasses does mean it doesn’t vaporize everyone and everything I look at.

Aside from that, I’ve mostly watched Deep Space Nine (again; finished season 4 in a couple of days and just watched Looking for par’Mach in All the Wrong Places – possibly one of my favourite episodes) and The FBI Files. Neither of those are available on UK Netflix, so I’ve been making good use of my MediaHint subscription.

Much of this past week has involved contorting around Maggie to lie down in the afternoon. She usually moves when I get in, and settles on top of the covers in such a way that I can cover one knee, but because I’ve been ill, she’s been a little more easy going.

She's been gracious enough to let me into my bed.

She’s been gracious enough to let me into my bed.


In other news; I got a new necklace.

Some days, I'm tempted to suck on it and hope that helps.

Some days, I’m tempted to suck on it and hope that helps.

It’s the chemical symbol for serotonin. I went poking on Etsy recently, and came across a shop called Down The Rabbit Hole. I also bought a gift for a friends’ birthday while there; she really likes it.

I’m flagging. Need tea. And a new respiratory system while I’m at it. And sleep. Sleep is always good when you’re not well. But first, more DS9. Well, why not?