Progress update

Child is asleep, 23:59 is the close, approx 1000 words to go, and roughly 3.5 hrs to do it in. I've been up since 6am Thursday, but my fellow sufferers of the curse of the wonky brain, you know we can't truly focus until failure is nearly upon us.

Truthfully I doubt I've been so calm since the 8000 word dissertation 3 day stint in the University of Exeter library in 2003... Including primary research. That was some fun times. Hell, got a decent 2:1. Makes it all okay, right?

Crack on. Knuckle down. See you when I'm dead. Or when I've handed in. You know. One or the other will happen for sure.

If I could dream your bad dreams for you I would

There is a film called Harsh Times on in the back ground. It has Christian Bale, Eva Longoria and the guy that used to make all the sandwiches in Ugly Betty. I have no idea if it's any good, but I looked up, and that was the subtitle on the screen. Yeah, I'm a sop today. If I could dream your bad dreams for you, I would.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck... Bobbins

You all know what a last minute slacker I am (all one of you, dear Driver), so it should be no surprise to note that I am up, once more, to the wall, there is no surplus time, every likelihood I shall fail... And this knowledge, this situation strangely reinstates the calm that has been missing from my head these past few weeks.

My ADHD issues are significantly better, but I am not free from them yet it seems... But maybe the thing is not to be free of it completely, but to work with it? My negatives can also be positives, it's just finding the situations in which they shine, rather than offend and confuse with their gaudy brash clunkiness.

An amble, a ramble and a little bit of one of my favourite stories comes to mind tonight

Tonight is a quiet one at Cat Lady Towers. Not that most nights are a whirl of excitement and giddy, The Towers are generally a quiet hidey hole of peaceful solitude. But today feels unduly quiet. Recently, a lot of nights have felt unduly quiet, lacking in peace. Surely indicative of something. When I feel so keenly the need for other people, it usually means I'm avoiding something, be that cleaning the bathroom, or acknowledging that I did something appalling, or doing my coursework, or, something.

Alas, I haven't got the time to introvert and delve right now, so fixing whatever it is will have to wait. Unlike my coursework, which really can't.

But I'd like company. No doubt only to avoid dealing with myself, but still. Company would be good.

"Then I cursed the elements with the curse of tumult; and a frightful tempest gathered in the heaven where, before, there had been no wind. And the heaven became livid with the violence of the tempest --and the rain beat upon the head of the man --and the floods of the river came down --and the river was tormented into foam --and the water-lilies shrieked within their beds --and the forest crumbled before the wind --and the thunder rolled --and the lightning fell --and the rock rocked to its foundation. And I lay close within my covert and observed the actions of the man. And the man trembled in the solitude; --but the night waned and he sat upon the rock.

"Then I grew angry and cursed, with the curse of silence, the river, and the lilies, and the wind, and the forest, and the heaven, and the thunder, and the sighs of the water-lilies. And they became accursed, and were still. And the moon ceased to totter up its pathway to heaven --and the thunder died away --and the lightning did not flash --and the clouds hung motionless --and the waters sunk to their level and remained --and the trees ceased to rock --and the water-lilies sighed no more --and the murmur was heard no longer from among them, nor any shadow of sound throughout the vast illimitable desert. And I looked upon the characters of the rock, and they were changed; --and the characters were SILENCE.

"And mine eyes fell upon the countenance of the man, and his countenance was wan with terror. And, hurriedly, he raised his head from his hand, and stood forth upon the rock and listened. But there was no voice throughout the vast illimitable desert, and the characters upon the rock were SILENCE. And the man shuddered, and turned his face away, and fled afar off, in haste, so that I beheld him no more."

Christmas, Slug Monkeys, and why I'm in love with Dave Asprey

I was talking to a friend recently, and she said, "You write a blog, don't you?" And I thought, "Shit, I do, yes I do." There's been stuff going on, and time having passed, but I've neglected to tell you about it all my dear Diary. I'm sorry. My head's been a bit clearer of late, and well, I forgot you. Not completely, you understand, more in the way of a friend whose live is going well and needs a bit less support. I can only apologise, and suggest that right now we sit down with a coffee and have a bit of a natter and a catch up. Yes? Brilliant!

So, Christmas... That happened. It was quite civilised, all in. Cattenberg stayed in the spare room on Christmas Eve, so as to be there when the Kittencat awoke - Christmas is all about family, and Kittencat had hers right there. Opening things when you're three is more magical than the things themselves, so, after she had torn the paper off everything, she forlornly, comically, excitedly asked, "What else?" And we had to explain that that was everything, and tidied away the paper so she could examine her haul, but the excitement was so much that she flitted for several days before really playing with much at all. In the afternoon, the unconventional family that we three are all headed across to my folks house, where (drum roll please) over the course of about five hours I did not have a single fight, crossed word or even minor disagreement with my brother. Such a thing has never before occurred, probably, but it did this year, possibly due to changes we are making to our respective attention issues. But more on that later. One of my aunties bought Kittencat a Barbie. Now, 80s Barbie was problematic, but with broad shoulders, triangular torso, small hips, erect implant like bosoms, and reasonably muscular arms, she was an enigma, simultaneously masculine and feminine, in many ways the ultimate in blurred boundaries. Sure her waist was too small, her neck too long, her feet impossibly arched, an image of womanhood no one could ever live up to, but she was at least strong. She wasn't uniformly pink, and there were interesting outfit and career choices, and not all her clothes were designed for maximum flesh exposure.

In contrast, welcome to the Barbie of my daughter's generation. Needless to say I'll likely have more wrath to vent at some point over this, but the comparison is a little sickening. Arms are no longer just slim, they're gaunt. Shoulders and boobs are smaller, making the waist appear less out of proportion, but it's at least as small as it was before. She looks anorexic, her clothes are barely there, and her role in life is to wear pink and play with puppies. And this is me not venting.

Barbie aside, Christmas was largely a successful affair, and the Kittencat has been learning about teasing. My Dad and my nephews call each other slug monkeys, and turnip heads, and KC has started to join in. She plans interactions with glee; "Let's go to see Grandad, and I will call him a biscuit face, and he will call me a turnip head! Won't that be funny!" And we regularly have to call each other slug monkeys, and turnip heads, and pumpkin faces, and monkey bums... Yeah, we're so mature and ladylike.

Over New Year, my lovely Driver came to stay for three days. Kittencat was so excited, and for weeks since has been telling me how Auntie Giurietta does everything. I'm pretty sure that Kittencat would trade me in for Auntie Giuls without a flinch. Lovely times were had, and it was massively overdue to see one of my best mates. Mustn't leave it so long next time!

January has been a quiet month in some respects, and massively busy in others. I missed seeing Raajmahal at Dulcimer because of an incident involving Kittencat's fingernail and my cornea, the damage was pretty impressive, thankfully I heal quickly... Corky's birthday party was next, lovely to see so many people I've not seen for a while. And then there was Desmadrados Soldados de Ventura, also at Dulcimer on the 16th. Not the best set I've seen them play, but still awesome fun. There have been a few arrangements and cancellations throughout January that remind me I'm best making my plans around myself alone, other peoples lives inevitably lead them to break plans, fine in the ordinary way, but organising childcare etc. does not generally work so well with a flexible approach to being social. When my plans are not reliant on other people, just enhanced by them, life is better.

Finally, Dave Asprey. I'm not in love with him in the sexy sex way, or even in the mournful pining of imaginings of soul mates or the kind of twaddle that people talk about with reference to love. But the man is a crazy bastard. (I mean that in a good way.) And an excellent researcher. I found Dave a few weeks ago, in my quest to rid myself of some of the problems I have with attention disorders. I've followed up a lot of research on a lot of the science purported on the Bulletproof website, and the science is always sound. Dave Asprey is one hell of a researcher. And while it's early days, and while I've got a long journey ahead of the path to mental and physical well being, my immune system has never been so good in my entire life as it is right now, I've cured a long standing throat complaint purely by diet, I've lost 10lbs without trying, and plan for another 10lbs over the next 6 weeks, my mental health is significantly improved, my concentration is better, and I can do maths again. I'm going to start documenting the changes I'm making as a reference aid (primarily for myself) on another blog soon. But Dave Asprey, I freaking love you. Over the years I've researched a little into the various issues I suffer from, and it always seemed to come down to mycotoxins, but I've never found a permanent path away from this kind of ill health before.

The Woodcat's step by step foolproof guide to a relaxing bath

1) Get all the people out of your house
2) Make coffee
3) Clean bath after the last person who used the bath
4) Run bath
5) Get in bath
6) Realise you left something on the other side of the bathroom, stand, place one foot out of the bath, reach across and get forgotten article
7) Lift foot back into bath, slip, fall, bumping head, arm and leg on the way down, whilst gracefully kicking over your coffee, half into the bath, half across the rest of the bathroom
8) Pause for a moment
9) Get out of bath, clear up bathroom, empty bath, rewash bath, go downstairs, make more coffee, go back upstairs, rerun bath, get in bath
10) Contemplate pain in arm
11) Drink coffee
12) Contemplate the beached whale of stretch marks lying in the water before you
13) Realise water has gone cold
14) Get out, refreshed and rejuvenated!

Slippers are preferable to bears.

Last night, Kittencat came into my bed at something o'clock in the morning. I ducked to the loo briefly, and gave her a bear to cuddle while I was gone. She was content and cuddling the bear, and when I came back, she said, "You can have your slipper back now". On learning it was a bear, and not in fact a slipper, Kittencat became distraught, and I got quite a stern telling off about the whole affair. Kittencat is quite strict about bears.

"It's okay" "It's not! Don't say that!"

Kittencat has been having a lovely Christmas, albeit an exhausting one. Christmas is a time that's as hard on children as it is fun for them, it's so exciting, and there is so much going on. Somehow they are expected to keep their heads, and be little paragons of virtue, and not complain when they are dragged from shop to shop, mealtimes and bedtimes forgotten in the parental rush of buying everything, ready for the apocalypse that is Christmas day, the terrifying prospect that the shops are shut for one whole day.

It's not really how we roll here at Cat Lady Towers, minimal shopping has been done, little at a time, within the bounds of our usual routines of meal times and bedtimes and all of that. Nonetheless, some disruption occurs, family visits inevitably result in altered ways of being, differing mealtimes, late nights. Kittencat seems to be a little like her mother, in that additional excitement or stress takes its toll on her immune system and consequently over the last few days she's been tearful, running a temperature, clingy as hell and wanting to sleep well over 14 hours a night.

She's also extremely negative. I swear I got the paternity of my daughter wrong, and somehow inadvertently spawned a child with Marvin the Paranoid Android. Earlier today she sat, crying, on my knee. I told her "It's okay" to which she replied "It's not! Don't say that! It's not okay!" 
At another point in the day, I told her she was beautiful, prompting her to burst into tears and respond "Don't say that! I'm not! No one is!" I can't stress enough that this is moderately disconcerting, but indicative of her current state of exhaustion and below satisfactory health - ordinarily my modest little Kittencat would respond to being told she was beautiful by saying "Yes. I am."

Christmas is stressful for three year olds.

Seasons beginning with C

Car insurance season falls shortly after Christmas! Oh no! There are exciting things to do in January, and they are most unlikely to occur. Oh no!

Probably, this is good. Probably. I have films to watch, sewing to sew, knitting to knit, course work in at the start of February... Yep. It all balances. The universe has it's plan, and it's all good.

It's Friday night! Lets...

...put on a dressing gown, watch Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., knit, sleep.

Actually, this doesn't sound too far short of my plan for the entire weekend.

I need so much coffee

So much coffee right now. There isn't actually enough coffee in the world to satiate this need.

So now, following that massive overshare, dear diary...

I am going to sew tinsel onto my Kittencat's star costume. Tomorrow, Kittencat is going to be a STAR. At nursery they are doing some kind of nativity thing called Whoopsadaisy Angel, and she's so excited, she's been singing the songs for weeks, and telling us about her performance.

I love this child so much.

Sometimes a mental health incident can be a good thing

During October, and just about into November my ADD was going off the chart, and impacting my social behaviour. I attempted to apologise to anyone and everyone I felt may have been affected by it. So far as I'm aware, largely everyone was fine. One person however, was not. They started acting as though I wasn't there at all, and, when I attempted to find out what was going on, ignored all methods of communication. Now for someone prone to anxiety based depression, and getting over an ADD incident, this is cruel treatment, because it adds a lot of anxiety to their life. Not knowing if you've done something, or what it is, is a huge headfuck.

I eventually found out what I'd done. Apparently some people overheard part of a conversation I was having, judged me based on overheard part ramblings without context and found me wanting. Fair enough, I could have been more considerate of my surroundings, but anyone who has known me that long could really have checked with me whether what had been reported was what had been said, rather than judging me on third hand information representing out of character attitudes and behaviour. The second, again, I get. In perceiving an atmosphere, and being unaware of the former transgression but very aware of a transgression my friend made in October, I tried to talk about it, drunkenly, like a bull in a china shop. Not really cool. And I called out a couple of ridiculous incidents that I really ought to have just ignored. But, the ADD headmess does not allow you to regulate or always be aware of your behaviour in the way you'd like.

Not everyone can cope with me on an ADD spiral, and that, I completely understand. But when in attempting to apologise,  you're told you're overthinking matters, you tend to think that everything is cool. After all, when things aren't, people tell you, right? And all that said, I picked up my issues quickly, I dealt with them, and went to the doctors and on failing to get any help other than a shrug and a "you could always go private", I implemented some strategies, managed my behaviour, and became a normal(ish) person again. (That aside, I do think that when someone ignores you entirely every time you see them for a month, without telling you why, and walks past you 4 times in quick succession at a gig blanking you completely, to the point where they will avoid speaking to friends if you're there, personally I feel this does entitle you to call their behaviour cuntish... Again, this is something that retrospectively I really ought to have just ignored.)

Incidentally, I feel I should mention that generally I manage the more socially awkward elements of this quite well, mostly. The last time I had a major ADD incident prior to this was in 2007-8, after a boy I worked with exposed himself, and I had a major anxiety reaction to this, heightened by the fact that, due to the structure and make up of the company, I was unable to make a formal complaint. When I made unofficial mention of it to the Director in charge of placements, he laughed, though in fairness he did also move the offending article of colleague to a different project and site. But the lack of being able to admit what happened meant that for a long time I was unable to really deal with it also. I failed to function well at work because I couldn't get the incident out of my head, outside of work I spent a horrific amount of time drunk to oblivion. Chances are people who knew me around then will remember a certain amount of the self destruct about my behaviour. Or at least a certain amount of idiocy.

But I told you I'd found out what I'd done. Aside from these incidents, there was a vitriolic assassination of my character, my mannerisms and and general demeanour. There was comment that going to speak to the people you know at gigs is not okay, that being giddy and having fun and asking people you know if they want to come dance is not okay, that being in the same venue and occasionally finding yourself near someone else amounts to following them around. Behaviour, conceded to be how I am with everyone, was nonetheless taken personally and found to be embarrassing and offensive. And this is why sometimes having a mental health incident is a good thing. I know lovely people. Kind, compassionate, warm and understanding people. People who don't judge out of hand, who will ask you your side. People open and honest enough that if they ever find you going awry, they let you know. I am lucky in my friends. Some people are not meant to be my friend. And that's okay. I don't like everyone, I don't expect everyone to like me. But it is good to know where you stand. My world is peaceful again, and all is well.

Where did November go?

My gosh, time is going quickly these days. So what happened to November? In brief...

Friday 1st November, I finally saw Warm Widow play, though I'm not entirely sure that the highlight of this wasn't steadily getting drunker whilst watching Martin engaging in some last minute song writing to be performed immediately after... No, they were amazing, as I knew they would be. I like it immensely when people you like have bands you love, mostly because I've never enjoyed obligation gigs. Not that there would be any obligation here, but it's be able to say honestly that you're there strictly for the music regardless of any friendships/acquaintance or whatever. That night was in some ways a great night, in others not so much, I talked to lots of people, but I was on self destruct that night, and at best I spoke inappropriately to people about topics that don't really matter, and at worst, I behaved in ways that made me not like myself very much - I've not been there for a long time, and thankfully I noticed it quickly, because it's not a way I like to be.

6th November was Enablers at Kraak, with Locean, Monster Island and Michael O'Neill supporting. Slightly unusually perhaps, Michael O'Neill was supporting after Enablers, but regardless of any other logistical reasons, and despite how good Enablers are, nothing could have followed his set - it was fucking awesome. He's listed on the line up for the next Gesamtkunstwerk, which sadly I can't go to, but if you can you should. It's going to be incredible.

Friday 8th was Gesamtkunstwerk, and it was a great night. I'm getting to know quite a lot of folks there, and lots of musical types were out in force; Danny Saul, Michael from Wode, Thomas Long from Easter, Michael O'Neill, Neil from Gnod/2 Koi Karp and others - all, as ever, lovely to chat to. Dancing with Lee and Amy and a bunch of folks, it's an amazing night regardless of the line up, but the line up was exceptional too - Shaped Noise, Gnod and Machine Woman. Fucking A.

Carcass at the Academy (13th November) was a bit of a disappointment - they were brilliant, but the sound system was arse. Still, having never seen them, I'm glad I did, still one hell of a show. Following that was Glenn Jones at Islington Mill on Friday 15th, put on by Buried Bones. That was really something special, a truly beautiful evening.

Wolf Eyes on the 21st at Soup Kitchen, supported by the lovely evolving collective of musicians that is Desmadrados Soldados de Ventura. That was a great set, David Birchall took it (rightly so) as a compliment that it was the "least experimental set I've ever seen [him] play", and Kate Armitage's vocals were superbly creepy and wild. Truly fantastic to see, I'm looking forward to seeing them again in January. WOLF EYES. First time I've seen Wolf Eyes, and they didn't disappoint, although, as seems to be a theme with gigs this month, the sound system did. I wanted it to knock me out of my skin, but it felt more like I was listening from upstairs. Still great, but not quite all it should've been. Often the way Soup Kitchen, you might want to look at that.

Bohren Und Der Club of Gore. OH YES. This was Friday 22nd at Islington Mill, courtesy of Fatout. That was some gig. As a side note, if Wolf Eyes had been at the Mill, that would have made for an entirely different calibre of show. Bohren played for over an hour, and it is fair to say they blew me clean out of the water. I was expecting it to be amazing. They took amazing, and made it look like a three year old child's best efforts. Support was Cornered Yet Climbing, a beautifully dark collaboration with Kelly Jayne Jones, Pascal Nichols and David McLean, and visuals by Khom.

And tonight... Tonight is Shellac. I'm a little excited.

An almost perfect month. Some minor mistakes, and friend has fallen out with me, I'm not sure why, but it's making speaking to an entire group of people I like feel like a very awkward undertaking. I don't know what I did, and quite frankly, it's a little teenage. If you have a problem with someone, sort it. So a blip, but it's not something I'm losing sleep over.

Because I really want to look like the boy off Eerie Indiana

About four or five years ago, thought I found my first white hair, but I couldn't be sure, so I pulled it out and it was. I was excited for awhile, then a little miffed when no more came. Today I thought I found another, but I couldn't be sure, so I pulled it out to see, and it was. Is this the beginning of me finally getting lovely white hair, or am I going to have to wait another four or five years for the next one?

A couple of poorly conceived ideas about how to address UK, and global, wealth disparity.

(Photograph from the guardian website, http://www.theguardian.com/world/gallery/2013/nov/06/anonymous-million-mask-march-around-the-world-protest-pictures, Photograph: Chanm Nyeim Zaw/GuardianWitness)


The highest salary in an organisation should not be greater than 7-10 times the lowest salary in an organisation. Seriously. I really do not see why anyone needs so much more than everybody else. Obviously I understand the need for incentive, the need to feel the value of your work recognised, but there are limits. When supposedly around 300 people in America hold around 90% of the wealth, something is seriously wrong. When a footballer in the UK earns more in a week than most people can hope to earn in a year, something is seriously wrong. Yes, football is a time limited career, but that’s what saving accounts and pension schemes are for.

A minimum of x% of profit should be held by companies as capital/invested into the business. Dividends should not be greater than reinvestment, or wages. 

As a society we should look to measuring wealth by living standards rather than GDP, a move away from the profit and loss balance sheets capitalism hold us accountable by would ensure a better standard of living for the more vulnerable.

An acceptance that as we have moved from a less patriarchal model, we have a greater available workforce. Combine this with the knowledge that people are often more productive working shorter hours (greater health, more energy, more creativity) and look at a socio-economic model that allows part time work to support living standards (see the first point). 

A recognition that essential services run by private companies operate for profit. Profit means they are not running it to provide the maximum benefit to their user group. Everyone except the government knows this. Transport links to rural communities closed for reasons of “profit” isolate communities, lower opportunities for employment, and generally suck. I’m unsure what point there is in high speed rail, when many communities have little or no decent transport links at all. Investment in nuclear power from foreign firms guaranteed more than double the current unit price for energy does not benefit those it should, it benefits shareholders, rather than acting to create a better standard of living for a population.

A recognition of what welfare, and national insurance should be. Key word is “insurance”. By helping those who need it, when they need it, without effectively placing them in the poorhouse, allowing them to keep social networks intact, children in the same schools, their chances of getting back into work would increase significantly. When all peoples time is occupied by fatigue and shopping for the cheapest of everything, the time for job seeking goes down. When family networks have been broken down through enforced moves, and there is no spare money anywhere, how do mothers pay up front for childcare and new work clothes?

A model that favours community and localised services rather than centralisation. Localised provision, be it in governments, dairies, agriculture, healthcare provides employment, fosters communities and creates jobs, centralisation causes unemployment and only favours profit. Localisation in our food industries allow for a more sustainable model, offer the prospect of better quality, less packaged green groceries, the prospect of reusable packaging (glass bottles, glass yogurt pots) in dairy, and less plastic leaching into our food products. Localised slaughter, butchery would offer the same thing. We are constantly looking for ways to reduce packaging, reduce transport miles for our food. LOCALISATION. Again, highly specialised services can operate better from a central model, yet for so much more all we reap is the price of alienation. 

We live in a society that values money alone, we exist to serve the machine. What ever happened to the notion that businesses are there to service our needs? 

Our society should serve us. Not the other way around.

The one in which the Woodcat decides to stop drinking for a time because she keeps listening to Nick Drake in the car

 There is a dog following me. You know the one. He's being howling in the field behind my house for some weeks now, chasing my car as I drive to and from university, sitting outside lectures,barking all day, howling all night. Recently he's been getting more confident and coming closer. He pads around my back garden and knocks on the back door for food. And against my better judgement I've started to feed him, to encourage him, and I think I must stop, or soon all my evenings will be spent alone doing nothing but watching Limmy, with a black dog lying with his head on my lap.

You know that the Woodcat has occasional issues with depression, right? And issues with ADD? And you know how that works and impacts my behaviour towards you all? Probably yes and no in equal measure.

The depression side of things is simple enough, in that most people I know have had personal experience of depression, either first hand or through close personal acquaintance. People tend to understand the need to introvert, to oblivion seek, to be a little less present, a little less emotionally available or capable. The attention thing makes things a tad more complicated. People have images of attention disorders as hyperactive bastard kids into everything, unable to focus on everything ever. People who are unreliable because they never remember anything. Truth is, it's not really like that. Attention Deficit Disorder is kind of a misnomer, it's not that attention is gone, so much as it's almost impossible to direct it appropriately. It's being sat at work working to a strict deadline and only being able to focus on learning how to make soap - seriously, I have quite a good understanding of how to make lye, render fat and make a good quality soap, though my attention waned before I ever got around to doing it. It's not being able to work between 3pm and 3:30pm daily because you have a work colleague on a conference call, and you can't tune it out of your head. It's revising for your Maths A Level by reading Edgar Allan Poe, or reading first year degree level Maths when you're doing your English degree. It's having known for a good 18 months what you want to write your dissertation on, knowing exactly what you want to explore, exactly what you want to say, but being unable to start until three days before the deadline. It's being eight years old and maybe only writing the date in an exercise book over the course of an entire morning. It's being fourteen years old and maybe only writing the date in an exercise book over the course of an entire morning. It's being late for everything. It's about understanding everything in classes, but being unable to write essays. Locking yourself away to work and finding yourself doing everything but. The inexhaustible lists that you attempt to live by. It's the inability to forget anything, and the inability to prioritise these thoughts, ideas. It's fluctuating between constantly going off on tangents, or an inability to change tack. Not letting things go. It's the constant blow to your self esteem that comes from chronic underachievement, that despite having an IQ somewhere above 140, you can't complete simple tasks on time. It's going out with strange boys that you really ought to avoid because they were willing to run down the road pretending to be an aeroplane with you. It's a basic problem with inhibition, of self regulation, of impulsivity. It's a problem regulating your interest level. It's needing immediate reinforcement, immediate rewards. It's not being able to skirt around issues, ideas, wanting the point, the bottom line often even before there is one. It's growing up being constantly told you are wilful, stubborn, stupid, a daydreamer. That you are idle. Lazy.

All of this causes significant impact on me personally, but I'm kind of used to my own academic and professional self sabotage, I've come to understand it and if not forgive exactly, at least be more forgiving of it. But there are areas that still upset the crap out of me, and yet it's hard to prevent it from happening. My friend Paddington used to say that there were two Woodcats, a good one and an evil one, and in lots of ways that's almost exactly how it is. Much of the time I can be a warm, understanding compassionate person. And yet... It's constantly making social gaffes that alienate and isolate. It's suffocating friends who need space, and neglecting those who need your attention. It's asking questions that are none of your business, joining in conversations where you may not be welcome. It's treating people badly. It's getting angry for ridiculous reasons. It's being curiously intolerant of other people's behaviour because your head is in a ridiculous place. Constantly butting in and not waiting your turn in conversations. It's existing in a curious plain next to reality, where you veer in turns from looking at the world from behind your face, to being completely engaged in hedonistic experiences. It's a million and one small things that everyone will recognise, but for most people it doesn't impact their lives. Be thankful. It's a bitch.

Depression is a curious ally to balance my ADD. Experiences with depression have allowed me more insight into how my behaviours impact others, and to be more self aware of when I go significantly down hill. And I am starting to notice that I'm going down hill. I'm not treating people well. I'm not treating myself well. Most of my day is spent feeling like I'm looking at the world from behind a mask. My foot is in my mouth more often than usual. My impulse control is way down. Basically, I'm not great to be around right now. Self sabotage is a definite issue. And I'm playing Nick Drake way too often. So I'm going to spend a little less time with people for a while. That said, I am very lucky to have friends who accept that sometimes I am an arse, and will either laugh at me, or tell me I'm being an arse, or both. I'm also lucky to be reasonably aware of when I am less than I want to be, and work on making myself less of an idiot. No mean feat, mind, but I'm working on it. Still, if I'm an arse to you, tell me. Self aware or no, I don't always notice myself being an idiot, and you can't change what you don't know about. It's kind of like the age old dilemma, do you tell someone they're flying low? Most people avoid doing it for their own personal discomfort, only to let the other person embarrass themselves more widely, by exposing themselves more widely... So if I'm a dick, tell me. Hopefully it won't last long. While having a black dog lurking in the back garden is one thing, I'm not keen on the idea of living with one full time.

Stop trying

The Woodcat needs to stop trying to be better, more responsible, more of a human being. Stop trying to be less of a dick. Less of a fuck up. She is who she is. And mostly, she's an arse.

A small moment of ranting about other peoples parenting

I generally prefer to keep my opinion of other people's parenting quiet(ish), save for when they are causing psychological or physical damage to their child. But this morning really hacked me off.

A short highly judgemental parent rant about the thoughtlessness of roughly half of the parents at my daughters nursery:

It is Halloween, and yes, the children are interested in dressing up. That said, when I arrived this morning half of the kids at nursery, already too hot in ridiculous acrylic skeleton costumes, were stripping themselves down to vest and knickers and unable to change into their ordinary clothes because their parents hadn't put a change in their bags. This left some of them quite upset, and, although the nursery has some spare clothes, is quite frankly unreasonable of parents not to foresee the inevitability of their child's discomfort and the likelihood that they would be much happier with their regular clothes on, and a costume in their bag to change in and out of as the mood takes them.

IT IS NOT ROCKET SCIENCE. EVEN I UNDERSTAND THIS. YES, EVEN ME.

For fucks sake.

October

Pretty month a whole month has gone by in a flash. Well a series of small flashes. And lots of moping. And some gigs. And some sleeping. All of that.

Obviously the start of the month got off to a bad start. I'm pretty sure I blogged that, and I think that adding details would be unnecessary. Suffice to say the incident has been resolved to my satisfaction, and allows me to continue viewing the people I know and mind about as people I know and mind about, instead of getting hung up on their actions. People often say actions speak louder than words. Souls speak louder than both. Looking someone in the eye, irrelevant of what is said, allows for understanding in a way that words and actions never will. And now all is fine and dandy. So kids, if people offend you, or you offend them, man up and speak to each other, as honestly and openly as you can. You don't have to tell them everything. Just talk. Mean what you say, even if you can't say exactly what you mean. Often that can fix everything in a way that time and distance never can.

Enough of that. On with the rest of the month. I went to see Metal Rouge at Kraak on the 7th, which was pretty awesome, and Acid Mothers Temple on the 10th. Acid Mothers was absolutely freaking brilliant, not least because I'm slightly convinced they arrange where they stand on stage based on who looks the most like a wizard. The weekend of the 19th and 20th was the Carefully Planned festival around the Northern Quarter. A few good bands were listed, but I was only really bothered about seeing Warm Widow, and maybe Plank!, on the Saturday, and Big Joan on the Sunday. But line ups change, Warm Widow couldn't play because of a drumming limb injury, and Big Joan moved into a Saturday night spot. I need to take a moment here to say just how good Big Joan are. Seriously AMAZING. Loud and raucous and mental and amazing. Good times were had with beers with lovely people, and eventually ended up with Martin Warm Widow and I colonising Danny's kettle while records were played, fun was had, and members of Big Joan gradually fell asleep to raging death metal at around 4am, followed by me driving Mr Warm Widow home, and getting at least two hours sleep before my Kittencat awoke.

Wednesday 23rd was Mark Eitzel. I'm surprised I was the only person I knew there, but it was one hell of a show. The support band were still on when I got there, they were good if you like that sort of thing, kind of generic folk pop complete with hand knits and a violin. Not really my bag, maybe some one elses. They weren't bad, definitely tuneful and all of that, but not for me. I'd tell you who they were, but I can't remember, and the details will probably be on the Hey! Manchester site around about here. The combination of this, and the overwhelming stench of feet present in Soup Kitchen on that particular evening made me nearly leave without ever hearing Mr Eitzel, but I'm glad I stayed. Few people can transcend the smell of feet, but he just about manages it, aided by my having found a spot where the smell was diluted by the air con. So yes Mark Eitzel, you transcend the smell of feet. What can I say? You are a beautiful, talented man, everybody knows it. And now we know you have the power to overcome evil smells as well with your singing prowess.

Saturday 26th and Sunday 27th was the Mantis festival. I've never managed to get down before, but this time I got to all three concerts, and there was some pretty inspired challenging stuff. The auditory potential of 48 channels is awe inspiring, and some pretty amazing soundscapes and auditory experiences result. I will say that some of the pieces better than others, and I think some of the pieces possibly needed a little more daring. Some I need a better understanding of the underlining concepts of what was intended in order to appreciate how much I like them. Three moments arguably stood out for me, Brona Martin's piece A bit closer to home...... which created a beautiful spacial landscape mirroring ocassional aural narrative beautifully, Pareidolia I by Patrick Dunn and performed by Marij van Gorkom (I think that's the piece I mean, she played about six, I think this was fourth?), and Gavin Osborne's Mechanical Air with a hypergraphic score by Michael Mayhew, this last piece beautifully executed with flute and electronics, and the distortion of the aspect of the planet looking like a human skull pleased me immensely. Or at least it did if I'm remembering the order of this right. I think those visuals and that piece line up - then again, I heard and saw a lot of amazing things this weekend. My friend Danny Saul had a piece (Rise) on the Sunday also, I must confess to having a huge list of questions before I'm going to know exactly how much I liked it. Some pieces meld or challenge you instinctively, and some have a helpful and pithy little description in the programme which you look at a few days later and say "Ah yes, so what I was getting was what they were going for after all", containing as they do one or two emotive rather than music techy words which confuse and bewilder me in terms of aim. I will say the arrangement was awesome. But overall, and this may have been the intention, it left me with a curious sensation of being utterly alone and abstract from my surroundings, from the rest of the world. There was a numbness reminiscent of those times when you walk alone in a crowd, hearing but not hearing, seeing but not seeing, nearly getting run over by something or another because in your absenteeism from the world you saw the car but it didn't occur to you not to cross. Warning sounds barely register, barely penetrate your consciousness. You hear as if underwater, sounds all sounding the same, distances blurring in their indistinguishable one volumed noise. As you can see, I have questions. Because if that was the aim, I fucking loved it, and it would make the stand out list into four, not three. If not, well, there are points that a few tweaks would have changed the entire experience into one that felt absolutely alive and engaged in EVERYTHING.