So today I moved into my new house with a friend of mine from back home.  I'm still not too convinced about whether living with him is going to work out, but fuckit, I'm stuck with it now.  I introduced him to some friends of mine, I'm not too sure how that went either.  Fuckit, it's not up to me to get him mates aswell as a job and a fuckin' house.

I'm sure it'll be fine, but we'll need to wait and see. 

I've been feeling not too bad the last couple of days, I guess that's why I have a couple of missing days posts, although in my defence I have been busy.  Tonight though, first night in my new home.  I felt fuckin' terrible.  I felt so sad about splitting up with the ex.  Missing her, and the boy.  Just hoping that they're ok.  And while I stopped short of wanting to be back there, wishing that I'd dealt with things a bit better maybe.  Or that I could have done something so that she didn't feel shite about what had happened.

I guess it's to do with the whole moving in to a new place really, and that we were supposed to be moving in to somewhere new before I decided enough was enough.  Fuckit, I'll just need to ride this out I suppose.  And hopefully come the morning I'll be ok.

It's hard moving in to a new place when you've literally got fuck all.  Luckily, the guy who was leaving this place decided I could have all his shit for £200.  WAshing Machine, Fridge-Freezer, Sofas, beds etc, as I'd left pretty much everything with the ex.  At the time I felt fucking shite, real fuckin distress that I had *nothing* except a bag of clothes, my computer and my guitar.  Literally everything I owned in the world could be carried on my back.

In time though, the feeling of freedom.  That I had no *things* holding me back anywhere became quite liberating.  Everything I owned could be carried, so I could literally up and leave whenever I felt like it.  That in itself brought it's own headaches, but those are for another day.  I guess that feeling is the exact feeling that gypsy's/pikeys/travellers/whatever the fuck you want to call them, have all the time.  Things aint right somewhere, fuckit just get on the road and away we go.  That's the fuckin' life.

It's the same as this whole "credit crunch" business.  Fuckin' hell, everyday we have another muppet on the tele, or radio bumping their gums about this or that and how it's awful and the housing market is going to shit and we're all doomed.  Which in turn means you go to work and hear some half regurgitated shite from the muppets that initially thought that "credit crunch" was a new type of breakfast cereal, and are now some sort of officianados on the subject because they heard Nicky Campbell talking about it on the way to work. 

This wouldn't be so bad if they actually took the time to read about what's happening, and educate themselves on why it is happening, and then give an opinion on it.  Just a fuckin' opinion.  If it's shite, or I don't agree with it doesn't matter a fuck, at least you've thought about it.  Instead you cunts come in to work and tell me Nicky Fuckin Campbells opinion, a fuckin cunt who used to tell people to spin a fuckin' plastic wheel for a living is now the all knowing oracle for these cunts?!! Gimme a fuckin' break...

But I digress, back to the credit crunch.  Once again, the liberating aspect of having fuck all comes in to play.  What the fuck can they take from me?  I've got fuck all!! Ha! Other people can worry about having their houses reposessed because they took on a mortgage that was far too big for them.  While it's not nice at all, how can we be expected to have compassion for the same section of society who have benefitted off of the likes of me for the last 25 years?  Of course that is a huge generalisation, but I don't give a fuck.  I don't need to explain myself to you, you're just a fuckin' blog after all.

The cuts on my arm are beginning to hurt, and worryingly I'm looking at them and thinking that they are beginning to look cool as fuck.  I think I've been quite artistic with them.  Not intentionally, just that you see loads of people with just cuts stacked one on top of the other like a big fuckin leaning tower of faux self harm.  Usually these are the cunts who then wear sleaveless tops to show off their handywork.  And usually they aren't proper "cuts" just scratches really.  But mine are cool, I've almost kinda joined them up and look like I caught up with Zorro for a bit who left a Z shape with his sword on my arm.

Anyway, thinking that it looks cool is not cool.  I'll need to do something about that.

I'm going to Glasgow on Thursday this week, really looking forward to it.  Got lots planned to do, most of it I will be doing my utmost to not booze, but we'll see how that goes.

Anyway... It's late now.  I should sleep.  Chau.

I need to go to London today, half day at the customers today and full day tomorrow.  Not feeling to good about it to be honest, confidence is pretty low and I get the feeling that I'm going to get a proper grilling.  Fuckit, we'll see how it goes.

Nothing much exciting or new happened in the last 24 hours, I'm getting more and more pissed off with having to write that I'm feeling fuckin' shite.  But I can't help it.  I don't want to feel like this.  Had a dream about the ex last night, about getting back with her.  I know it wouldn't make me happy in the long term, but maybe I'm expecting too much.  Maybe I should have been happy with the life I had and not looked for something more.  Something better. 

Fuck that, I'd have ended up fuckin topping myself for sure.  That wasn't for me, I know that.  But when it's 10 O'Clock at night and your going in to bed on your own again it's a fuckin' horrible experience.  Not even for the shagging, just to have someone next to you that you care about and that cares about you.  Someone to wake up in the middle of the night and turn round and cuddle.

But I felt like I was becoming a little fuckin' nub of a man.  Being ground down, just accepting things I didn't agree with for an easy life.  Surely that's not the way to happiness?  Maybe it is, I get the impression that lot of people I know have just "given in", stopped running.  Take what they have and be happy with that.  Maybe some day that'll be me too, just taking what's there to avoid living out a lonely fuckin' existence.  Dying alone?  Fuck that.

Anyway, the whole "health" thing hasn't really kicked in.  I guess I'm not eating really shite food much, and I'm definitely not drinking anywhere near as much as I have done.  But exercise has been minimal to say the least.  I guess it's one step at a time for now though.

Looking forward to going back to Glasgow next week for my mama's birthday.  Have a few business meetings too which are another step back home, so we'll see how that goes.  Who knows, maybe I'll just say fuckit, and stay there.  Although, I do say that every time I go back.

I'm feeling not too bad again today.  Sun is shining, it's Friday....what more could you want?  I am however fuckin pissed off at my company.  A colleague of mine "has decided to leave" almost 3 weeks after they were off "sick".  That was the official line yesterday.  Like, he's become so sick that he's decided he should just leave?!?

Fuckin PISH. 

You think I'm a fuckin' idiot? 

Complete and utter lies.  You know, I know sometimes decisions have to be made, cuts here or there.  Get rid of him, his face doesn't fit.  Fair enough.  But, don't fuckin' lie to me.  Blatantly lie to me.  I knew from the beginning that he'd been fired, told not to tell anyone or he wouldn't be entitled to his measly pay off package.  I assumed that in time "The Man" would tell me/my other colleagues that there had been some people let go, cite the recent economic downturn, assure of no further cuts, blah blah blah... But to say that this guy, (and others) "decided to leave" fuckin' grinds on me.

I think I have a pretty good reputation/standing in my company.  I don't think I'll ever progress as much as I would like or should because I'm not really willing to play their wee games or to join the "Prick Club".  I think that my actions (*see getting completely fuckin' hammered) at various staff events has also ensured that there is a definite ceiling that I won't pass through.

But fuckit, recently I've realised that there is more to life than money.  For me that is a fuckin' huge deal.  Forever and ever I've wanted to be rich, have a couple of big houses, nice cars etc etc...  But right now I'd be happy with enough money to live, spend time with my family and friends and most importantly get rid of this fuckin' bleak outlook I have on life and the world.

I'd love to live by the sea, go fishing for my dinner.  Keep chickens, grow veggies.  No neighbours for at least 5 miles, and no computers for at least 50 miles.  Right now that would be fuckin' ideal.  Fuckin' bliss...

I've only been doing this shite for a couple of days, but I'm feeling a wee bit better about things already.  Again that could be the fact of not boozing, so I'm gonna try and keep that up for as long as I can.  But fuckit, we'll see how it goes.  I need to try and determine whether I'm feeling "sad" because my life isn't how I imagined it would be right now.  Or whether I'm "ill".

It's a nice feeling knowing that people like me, (regardless of the fact I can't see the reasons why).  But I do feel like a lot of the time I'm the sad clown, I try and make people laugh, and have them enjoy being around me.  Then when they're all gone, and I'm on my own, I lock myself away and burst in to tears.  What the fuck is that all about?!

I think a lot of the problem is to do with my childhood.  Don't worry, I don't have some "dodgy uncle" story to tell.  More to do with the fact that my childhood was better than good.  Fair enough we didn't have loads, but on the whole it was happy.  I had lots of mates, enjoyed myself - simply it was ok.  Then all of a sudden, people started dying.  My dad's brother, my grandparents.  All within a couple of years, and I didn't know how to deal with the fallout from that.  And I don't think I've been right ever since.  What do these medical cunts call it? Root cause?!  Ahh fuckit who cares.

Now I'm a wee bit older, I've still got lots of good mates.  I don't find it difficult to meet people and bore them to tears with my "issues".  I've got a decent job.  I could do with a ride, but apart from that things are good.  Technically I shouldn't feel shite in the slightest, I've no reason to.  Which then brings it round to the fact that maybe I am ill.  Maybe I do have some chemical imbalance.  Maybe the couple of years of binge drinking, shite food and little/no exercise has had some effect on my body's ability to make...erm... fuck knows, things that make you happy. 

There's part of me that kinda feels like I *want* to be ill.  I want the drama.  I want to shock people, tell them I've got Depression, Bi-Polar, Fucked-Up in some way.  Some people see it as a negative thing.  I don't.  I don't give a fuck.  Label me up, pigeonhole me or some other pishy metaphor that people use for that kind of shite.  Just give me a fuckin reason for the way I am!!!

Life is difficult, I know that.  Other people are worse off than me, I know that too.  But again, I don't give a fuck.  I don't care how difficult it is, or how much worse off someone else is.  All I know is how I feel. Surely there's something morally wrong with feeling better because there is someone worse off than yourself?
"Ahhh fuck, I'm feeling fucking shite.  I'm too much of a shitebag to top myself, so I'll just cut myself....what's that you say?  Wee Jimmy has just lost his legs in an accident?  And he's got cancer of the eyes?!!  Fuck...that's magic news that is, I was near making a slice in my own flesh to try and relieve the almost blinding feelings of sorrow and frustrations whilst I tried to catch one of the 4 million thoughts that were racing through my mind to see if I could make sense of at least one of them.  Now you've said that though...Fuckit.  Fancy a pint?"

Bollox....

So please... If you're reading this... how the fuck did you make it this far without searching for the "X Close" button?  But if you managed that, next time someone tells you they're down/depressed/unhappy.  Please Please Please don't tell them about some other poor cunt with no eyes to try and cheer them up.