If I told you that I knew about the sun and the moon, I’d be untrue…

Today I am back on form after my recent 'issues' with Stalker Adam. I am a weeble, I wobble but I never fall down, bouncing back pretty quickly each time. I am truly back on form as well as I have started falling over again and walking into things a lot which leads me to ask the question, 'why is it that my body has perfect spacial awareness when there is some kind of shitty madness going on in my life?'

My good friend suggested the other day, after observing me for quite a while and watching how I eat that I am a left-handed girl in a right-handed girls body, which kinda makes sense to me. I automatically pick things up with my left hand and am cack-handed in so many things I do. When I attempt to play the guitar I always 'play' it left handed and it's a bizarre sight watching the effort I go into to eat, cutting food up one way and then swapping the cutlery between hands to eat. Things are easier with my left hand and pretty much the only thing I do of any worth with my right hand is write and draw.

I also have my drawing mojo back and am currently drawing up what must be my 30th tattoo for my throat... the usual butterfly thing uses a human skull in the centre but I have one in mind that will use a dog's skull with the wings of The Painted Lady Butterfly, aka Vanessa Atalantis (although no-one ever calls me Vanessa anymore, especially as contact with the 'rents is so sporadic and basically non existent)

Anyway, I have, in one half of a working day, fallen over twice, fallen off my stool once, made a couple of tea/coffee hybrid drinks by accident and had the computer freeze when trying to open a file only to discover it was an email from a photographer of a test shot which included my boobs in a bath... sure it was a mighty good pic (am I allowed to say that?) but also bleedin embarrassing to have my tits on a computer screen at the shop with one of the artists standing behind me while I went red and tried to cover the pic with my hands... Gotta laugh though as it was dead funny and a not shaved balding transvestite was trying so hard to bite her lip to keep from laughing. It was then I fell off my stool... :) This is a usual day in the world of me!!!

So, another thing, I have a stupid school girl crush and although the daydreaming is good it is keeping me awake at night. He reminds me of my years at Uni, but he's cool, makes me grin like a stupid cheshire cat at inappropriate times and I seem to be able to talk to him for hours not only on the 'puter or by text but also in person, which is new to me as I'm usually a pretty shy person. Now he on the other hand has a big schoolboy crush on a certain Ms Von D. Now my plan is to grow a good 5 or 6 inches and grow my hair dead long and start dressing like a hot lady!.... Lol, never gonna happen though is it.

This weekend: Brighton Tattoo Convention, where crush object will be visiting, a host of industry friends will be working, my bessie friend will be getting tattooed and Stalker Guy will no doubt be stalking. I almost hope he kicks off so that the 'Angels can finish what he started but even more than that I hope he leaves well enough alone. I'm looking forward to it a lot and especially seeing all my good friends who'll be working hard during the day and partying harder at night.

Prepare. Take Aim & Fire.....

I wrote this a couple of days ago....

I'm shaking, I honestly am...
The guy who went mental at me just phoned the shop phone to, well, go mental at me again.

Let me go back a couple of days...

Our Christmas meal was on Saturday (yep, we are slow at this ) and I was due to drive my boss and his wife to Brighton to meet up with the others, It's easier to do this as I don't drink and honestly don't mind driving. So at the end of the day I get into my car only to find I have two flat tyres, great both at once, something going on here.
I get some tyre weld which would usually work but the size of the holes are too big, about the size of, say, a large Philip's screwdriver (I only know this as the entrance to the holes have the cross pattern!)

About half past 6 I get the first of a host of messages... 'Oh harsh, Is your car fucked? Maybe you should call the police'

I don't respond as it's the same fucking guy who I mentioned last week who's number is texting me. I can't prove anything and knowing the way the Police bloody well work in this country I know they won't do anything without solid proof.
Anyway we head on down to Brighton and have a wicked awesome time, my best friend in the industry was there, funny as hell and just what I needed. All the while I'm still getting more and more text messages with little bits of abuse, little references to my car, that kind of thing. No blatant admittance of what has happened but I know it's him and he knows I know. This is a guy, who for fun, got a key cut to his BEST FRIENDS motor and then went about systematically abusing the poor guy for nearly a year. Waking up in the middle of the night so that he could go and move his friends car and put a different radio station on, move the seat.... He laughed when he told me his friend was nearly fucking well committed for a 72 hour stint for observation in a mental hospital. Funny once or twice maybe, but for nearly a year. He nearly drove the poor guy out of his mind and this was his friend?

Sunday, try desperately to get someone to see if they can fix the tyres, a mobile place or anywhere, but because I drive a classic mini it's not that easy getting 12" tyres just off the rack anymore, people have to order them in.

Today, guy came to fix the tyres in a mobile van thing... literally 10 minutes later I've sat down to draw up some artwork and the work phone goes. It's him. First words 'Oi cunt, think you can hang this on me? [laughter]'
I politely ask that he doesn't harass me on the work phone and hang up. (I'm serious as well, always the professional at work no matter what people throw at me. I won't swear or anything) 2 minutes later the boss gets a call on his mobile in which he says, 'you'd better come and discuss this with me when she's gone then. After 6?' Discuss what?

I'm waiting for my dad to phone and give me the contact number for 'someone we know' who in all honestly is a total fucking psychopath, just so I know I have that number if I really need it. BUT ALL I WANT IS A QUIET LIFE, TO BE LEFT THE FUCK ALONE TO GET ON WITH THE STUFF I HAVE TO DO. Yes I know I fixed my own car, I know an A Series engines better than a qualified mechanic apparently but to start a campaign of fucktardery on me is your biggest mistake Adam. I know I bruised your fucked up male ego by not only fixing my own car but pointing out simple facts about it's engine but seriously? Stabbing both tyres is a really gutless thing to do I think. What ya gonna do next huh? And yeah, I don't want to sleep with you, I'm not interested so leave it the fuck out, ok....

There are no threatening text messages as such, I can't stop him calling the shop and anyway if he has the bosses number.... I'm still shaking

I'm not someone who gets scared and I guess I'm not scared now. I'm more worried about the fact I could quite easy stab an arsehole like this if that makes sense. Hell I grew up in and around some knarly violence and been hit in the head so many times it doesn't hurt now. I'm scared as I know I have the red mist thing in me in moments like this, I've done it once before in London when I wasn't 'well' and it took my brother, his friend and my dad to tear me off the guy who was giving as good as he got. The guy was quite a big 'dealer' around our parts and he had systematically given me grief over a period of time until this one last time and I just snapped. And I really really hurt him. I'm not proud of my actions but I know that kind of thing is there in me, you know?

So plan of action? I can't think as a) I'm worried about the whole after 6pm thing. b) I don't want to have to lower myself to his fucking snivelling standards and resort to any kind of violence really. c) Do I leave it to Karma?

update:
He did call the boss, saying how he didn't stab my tyres and whatever else, saying he wants to come in and have 'words' with him. I told my boss the whole story, how it started with him really kicking off at me last Monday on the phone when I was at work and how he went berserk when I hung up on him and said I'd kept the text messages from Saturday. My boss said he's known him for years, done a lot of work on him... I have a feeling this guy may cost me my job. I'm at a complete loss on this one, the guy is a bunny boiler.
At half past 2 this afternoon I receive more messages from him, this time about how he was at work all day Saturday and can prove it with his time sheet from work (hell easy to forge, I mean how am I meant to know if it's the real deal) and he then had the gall to ask if I was doing this for revenge. What? What am I doing? Seriously? Answers on a postcard to....
The same night I got sent home early because this guy wanted to go and complain or whatever to the bossman, I recieved a phone call later that night, withheld number 'tick tock, tick tock; you're gonna lose your job *laughter...'
Anyway, His Name is ADAM HARGRAVE and he is a cunt!

Motherfecker

You know what? I'm really fucked off, like really.
my mechanic friend just spent 10 minutes laying into me about how dangerous my actions are by working on my own car.... Stupid reason to be fucked off I know but he keeps insisting the sump and the gear box are separate in an a series engine. I say know differently, it's all in one, they share oil and has been that way since before the war!
He sent me a message after I hung up on him (I hate phones, I get flustered and stutter and I felt myself burning up in embarrassment) 'Wish I'd never helped you out was trying to be nice but what's the fucking point????? Delete my number cause I'm deleting yours'
5 minutes later I get 'I don't care if we never talk again. Being friends with you brought me no 'benefits'.' .... I read that to mean I don't spread my legs for him as I have gone out of my way to help him out in other ways and even though he has asked and asked and gone on at me I refuse to fuck him.... I'm not like that, I won't just fuck anything and I don't fancy him and he is controlling and I feel uncomfortable around people who talk like they want to fuck me 24/7.
I'm sitting at work still flushed from feeling like this.
And he is still sending me messages.
This is a guy I used to refer to as a harmless stalker

Someone saved my life tonight, Sugar Bear

You almost had your hooks in me, didn't you dear?

Yesterday I saved the life of my car. To do this I had to play with her nipples....

I drive a classic Rover Mini which mechanics are very happy to inform me are no longer catered for parts wise. What do they know, the grease monkeys? The truth of the matter is that parts are readily available and the car is easy to work on. So easy that a girl, alone, can fix a clutch on one. My clutch has been non-existent for a while now and on occasion I have had to turn the car off, put her into gear, and then turn her on again to drive. One customer from the tattoo studio kept telling me it isn't the clutch, it's the gearbox. Best oil her up and sell her on cause it's gonna cost you thousands. What scared me most about this guy is that he serviced the car and then recently told me he filled the gearbox thing with oil. I told him the unique quality about an 'A'Series engine was that the gearbox shared oil with the sump. He laughed and said 'bless' and reminded me he has been a mechanic since he was 16. If any of you want to go and check the facts about 'A'series engines you'll see that I am, in fact, correct. (although I may have written it wrong or used incorrect terminology) This is the guy that calls me 'princess' and tries to do everything for me in regards to the car and tries to get me to go to his all the time for god knows what, but I fucking hate being treated like a helpless female of the species. I have been alone since the age of 17 and certainly don't need being patronised. Anyway to correct the clutch I needed hydrolics fluid and tubing...

The tubing the guy in the car parts place was way too tight and wouldn't have fitted across the nipple no matter what I did... (I now sound kinda pervy) and I thought 'well fuck you, I'm gonna get around this and succeed anyway' (The power of bizarre childhood + freaky parents = fiercely independent one girl army) I went up into my flat and got a hotwater bottle full of thrice boiled water, (I later found out I could have boiled the kettle a million times, it makes no difference to the temp of the water) pliers and various other bits and pieces for my A-Team style repairs. Put tubing into hot water bottle leaving the end hanging out and wait with hot water bottle across chest for five minutes (positioning is everything) when the tubing had softened considerably I could force my needle nose pliers into one end and pull the handle apart and then blow on the tube so it resets into the much bigger size. Fit first time onto the nipple.

Second stage, hard part, open clutch hydrolics bit thing and run round to depress the clutch peddle, jam it into place and run around to reseal the clutch thing. Repeat and repeat and repeat! The hydrolics fluid that came out was black, nasty and full of sediment. When it started to run clear again I could stop, seal the bit thing up and then reassemble the car again ending up by reattaching the ECU and bolting it into place. Go to the rear of the car and reattach the battery and wait til the ECU re-recognises the immobiliser. Start her up and then 'fuck it' not working.....

....what I didn't realise was that it was working, working better than ever and my gears were sliding in and out so effortlessly that I didn't realise they were working at all, I was prepared for at least a little resistance but I got nothing! I can really kick arse when I put my mind to it and become determined enough.

While I was doing all this with my car though I had an unusual audience in the form of 2 coppers (feds, rozzers, old bill, police...) as earlier I had found an abandoned moped with only 59 miles on the clock, wires pulled out everywhere, no reg plate, to tax disc. I called to police to report it and to get it taken away from where the garage is and they came while I was doing my car. I guess not a lot of small single females work on their own cars as they treated me as if I was an alien, at moments almost, but not quite, taking the piss outta me breaking nails or whatever. I decided to talk them through my car, how it came as a 60bhp basic but limited edition model and how I had tuned the shit out of the engine so she now ran at just over 97bhp (That's Brake Horse Power to you non petrol heads, a huge increase for a very small and very light car) I explained what parts had been upgraded, the head unit, exhaust system and so on, raised an eyebrow gave a wink and said if they needed any work done on their motors I'd be happy to look at it... When they got a truck in to pick the moped up (125cc brand new suzuki, black and red) they told me if no-one claims it within 6 weeks I could have it, free and would I be interested? Hell to the Yeah I would!!!

So my day off, fixed a car saving myself at least £120.... Maybe obtained a scooter for summer time fun and have had a fucking tremendous sense of achievement since... Score 1 for Ness for once

And if you go, I wanna go with you. And if you die...

At the end of October I lost a friend to cancer after a two year battle. He was only 31 and was an orphan. He got married a couple of months before he died and so he left his 24 year old wife and his older brother behind.
On 30th December I found out that a friend commited suicide. I don't know the details at all but I know he wasn't married and he was a real good guy. I can empathise with him, feel angry at myself, sad at the world... I know all to well how depression can make you feel and how easy it is to turn in on yourself.
My folks always drummed into me what a selfish thing taking your own life is; but I have to disagree, I think it takes a huge amount of courage. No one wants to purposely hurt themselves do they? and so to go as far as as death takes guts in the bucketload.
I have never experienced a suicide personally before, my parents have and they always told me that you're left with questions. I'm not at all. I am left with understanding...
Now don't get me wrong, there is no way on Mother Nature's sweet earth that I want harm to come to any of my friends but I myself understand when you are that desperate and down and you don't want to bother people again with the shit in your head and nothing you do is going right, nothing you say is understood and people just tell you to 'snap outta it'
I understand, I've been there and walked that path my friends. I have tried and failed, not because I bottled it or whatever you want to call it but my chosen method has failed me.
I may have mentioned before that in 2001, ten years ago, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, I fought against being commited to a secure unit, most of the time from the age of 16 was spent being mad and pretty much homeless and my childhood would drive a saint to madness I swear. But I fucking fought them every step of the way. Looking back it may have been something I should have done.
Daily visits to the Psych team, supervised while taking meds to make sure I had taken them, every med under the sun including Fluoxetine, seroxat, epilum (anti convulsant), venlafaxine, sertraline, chlorpromazine... You get the idea right?... I was under these guys until recently, January 2010, a different doctor every 6 months as it was a teaching hospital, the same bullshit at the beginning talking about my odd childhood and the way my folks treated me, my mum's alcoholism, the men in my family being seriously violent... Quite honestly the treatment by these professionals was enough to drive anyone to trying to kill themselves, never mind the actual run down piece of crap building I had to go to all those years, day in, day out.
They saw I had an art degree and tried to force me to do Art Therapy. I never understood it. How do you draw your emotions and then leave them there on the page?
Therapy groups for survivors of abuse... Couldn't hack it.
Hypnotherapy, actually taught me how to meditate and remove negative thoughts from my mind and for 4 sessions I learnt a lot. This was funded by me however and isn't available on the NHS!
One of the best things I found as well? Talk to a Buddhist monk for an afternoon. I'm lucky to be able to access the Buddhist Temple that George Harrison had a hand in getting built and by accessing this place I am able to access the monks for a different perspective on things.
I am currently on a cocktail of Fluoxetine and Carbamazepine, an anti depressent and a mood stabiliser. When I ration my mood stabiliser due to the inadequacies of my memory to put in a repeat prescription, I can really feel myself getting hyper and manic. With no medication at all though I have the worst withdrawal symptoms, Pain, stomach cramps, sweats, hallucinations, slurred speech... (well more nonsensical ans stuttery than normal)
Most of the time though I am kept a little down, I hide myself away and rarely have contact with the world except for a few very good friends. (I don't read newspapers, watch the news, watch much tv apart from shows involving science or some sitcoms like The Big Bang Theory) I watch a shit load of films and play Xbox a lot, read a ton and try to stay outta trouble. I rarely, if at all answer my phone, no matter who's on the other end and although I do cook for myself daily, I rarely eat too much. I worry about every little thing I say, I am 99% certain (in my head) that I am an annoyance to people and shouldn't contact them, I believe that they roll their eyes and try to avoid me if I do contact people (parents fault, they created these insecurities) I prefer the old school method of contact simply because I myself enjoy getting something in the mail rather than a text or email. I don't like my food to touch and beans must go into a mug not onto a plate. My dog is my best friend and over the course of ten years I have lost quite a few friends as they don't like hanging out with 'someone who could, you know, flip out at any time like they say in the papers/news coverage/internet'... I worry myself sick about people (friends) who are experiencing down time or are depressed as I've been there/am there. If I could make things better for you, no matter what the cost, I would. If I could have helped my friend, no matter what the cost, I would have done anything.

They say Jesus died for somebody's sins

But God knows he didn’t die for mine
Cause I’ll stand accountable for my own damn sins each and every time.