A rare transferace of joy via these peculiar tentacles

Some rare events have occured in the last couple of days, during which, I have been reminded how incredibly magnificent and affecting Homo sapiens can be.

I’ve had some lovely and silly, breif chats in real life and virtually, and said a sad farewell to a very talented and all-round  delightful student. I didn’t even get awkward about the goodbye hug. Imagine that!

I’ve been listening to the British band Daughter and finding their music increasingly intoxicating. Imagine my delight when I discovered they will play a gig in my city in the new year. Yay!

Anyway, I received a package this morning in the post:

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Not sure if you can read that but the two handwritten notes say “ONLY GOOD VIBES X” and “ALWAYS LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE OF LIFE XXX” plus a big yellow thing with a giant smile on, all bundled up in forest green crepe paper and ribbons. You’ll be forgiven for thinking that this might be a mental salvation survival package sent by my mother, but it was actually something I ordered for myself. So cute was the encasement that I almost forgot to take out the items inside; a pair of handmade black tentacle earrings. The adorability of said earrings is immense but the sense of joy I felt was more from the effort that the artist had gone to for someone they had never met. I think I have smiled my way pretty much through an entire day, wearing clay octopus arms in my ear holes, pretending that I’m secretly part cephalopod, and generally thinking that maybe I’m not a total cretin after all for living my ever hopeful existence.

I spent a lot of time working on my latest scientific masterpiece, and I have to say that I’m pretty pleased with the way it is shaping up. My writing and ability to structure, it would seem, have matured into a form much more readily digested and assimilated (we shall see if the boss lady agrees).

We tried in earnest to acquire some jack-o-lanterns for tonight (at my insistence because a Halloween uncelebrated is a grumpfest waiting to happen) but I felt satisfied with the darling honey bear and yellow acorn squashes that a local farm shop had to offer. I presently diemboweled them and performed the necessary crude open surgery.

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Shame about the raggedy carving but it’s good enough for me. Sometimes having emotions is a great thing :).

“You could still be,
what you want to,
What you said you were,
when I met you”~Daughter, medicine

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Contracting to a place that I can’t breathe

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I am beginning to question the identity of the creator of this, so ornate a cage, around me.
I know I did it before.
I spent years spinning brittle bones out of my spirit to form an ever creeping interwoven and impenetrable prison.
Because I needed it. Out there was too bright, too hopeful and too dangerous for words, and I had so many precious words that I had to keep them all to myself because without them, nothing else mattered. Nothing else could make me feel, except the fire, and I wasn’t selling tickets to that show. I had years of silence, carving feathers and runes into those bones, making amateur art from the grotesque.
I don’t know when, precisely, the pressure shifted and the creaking bars began their retreat. Sucking their own marrow back into my psyche. The clouds began to peek through the lifeless and hopeless remains of my chamber and in that moment, just as the words gushed out, the warmth bled in. Fire and bones and hope were reunited with the hungry sky.

Yet here I am chastened again. Bound in this swaying cage with no recollection of its crude construction. Confused and irreconcilable because all I long to do is reach out and touch you. I trace the bars with my jagged nails knowing the only way out is to bleed the words, but what if it’s not my words that must undo the spell this time? Or worse, what if it is and I’ve been wasting my months waiting to be saved?

“What wasted unconditional love
On somebody
Who doesn’t believe in the stuff
Oh, well”~fiona apple, oh well

Sanity rescued by horses again

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Animals can achieve what humans cannot. Buster has managed to turn this weekend from a full on fuck-off whinge fest into a healthier balance of whinge, love, success and rebuilding of trust.

I feel alive again. Lurgey or no lurgey.

This super-horse knew I was still a bit nervous about being on his back after our most elaborate parting over a month ago, and he seemed eager to show himself as the supreme champion of bravery and level-headedness that I previously knew him to be.

I was wary when I heard he’d been naughty with the farrier, and that he hadn’t been exercised all week, but bless his little cotton sock (singular. He has only one sock), he didn’t put a single newly shod hoof wrong, even when I felt brave enough to try a canter and then our overexcited companion leapt sideways into our path, he deftly moved us to safety and then calmed his friend down.

How could I ever doubt my buddy? Oh yeah that’s right….broken nose….hmm, well I’d say I’m now back to trusting him about 80% and hope to get that up to a healthier optimal 95% soon. Five percent needs to be reserved for extenuating circumstances. Trusting 99% is what got my nose broken.

P.S. This was the first and hopefully last time I managed to go riding without applying Deodorant. This is a stinky enough hobby already without this added bonus.

“Itch to scratch,
To strike my past from all it’s owed
It’s sold”~sneaker pimps, curl

Ego on self-destruct.

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What a damned exhausting and confounding week.
That’s certainly not what I had in mind fate….such a shame we don’t see eye to eye even when I’m sober.

What started off so promisingly at work degenerated quickly into an impressive spiral of clumsiness, forgetfulness, overthinking, overanalysing, and vicious self judgement. Let me illustrate;

I know exactly what I’m doing, I’m just so damned awesome at this shit. Disciples! Let me show you the way.
Oh hang on, is that right?
Oh bollocks I’m doing it wrong, I’m sooooo stupid, good job I realised early on.
Phew! Ok it’s all fixed but, why did I think I was right in the..
Oh fuck…I was right to begin with!!! Bugger bugger bugger!!! I’m such a bloody retard!
Breathe, focus.
Ok NOW it’s fixed.
Tralalalala all OK onboard the good ship pickle.
Now let’s taste the scientific pudding we have baked.
It’s an utter shite-fest! Omg! I’m a failure. This makes no sense. I make no sense, words and numbers are scrambling into a giant panic-ridden storm of figurative fecal matter. I’m so fucking depressed, my boss fucking hates me and my ridiculous mistakes.

Ok then a fresh day, I’ll try to make this a good one.
All good, a few minor blips but let’s keep this show rolling because this time it really is a demonstration. Shame I keep telling the students what a fuckup I made yesterday but ho-hum.
So now you do this and
what the FUCK?! No,no,no that’s no right! Erm, you’d better step away from watching this around about now. Don’t worry this won’t happen when you do this…its all under um control..
Jesus, what a debacle! I can’t even do this thing that I developed. How can I expect someone else to do it? Why am I so useless and pathetic?

Right, time to taste the second albeit horrendously ugly scientific pudding. Let’s put it alongside yesterday’s carcass for fun.
Um….really? They are both fine. Actually, they are both delicious and almost record breaking.
So.
Why. The fuck. Do I keep telling myself that I’m a damned moron???? How about because it’s handy when I have go explain go the boss lady that actually after having a giant sulk about everything being shit and stupid and wrong, although I did do some silly stuff, it was all OK in the end.

It’s exhausting work all this emotional roller-coastering. Anyone would have though I’d forgotten my meds.

Oh. I did.

How helpful.

I hope you can tell how hard it is for me to not just write down what an idiot that makes me.

Oh look I did it anyway.

Is this what med-free life is like? Damn! How do people cope?

Well other stuff happened, like beer throwing, fake blood, asthma, hersheys vomit flavoured kisses, actual vomit (not mine), and further blah but I can’t be bothered to elaborate. It’s all bullshit anyway.

I need a nice long sleep.

“I’m not afraid of happy endings,
I’m just afraid my life won’t work that way”~jack off jill, fear of dying

Disenchanted dream

I had a dream that you were hiding behind my father’s face.
A steady stream of disappointment in spite of my striving,
Issuing from that angry mouth.

So I ran for the trees.
Barefoot, tearful but free.
My cream sequinned gown catching on the low hanging branches,
The chill creeping into my bones
and yet,
I would not look back.

A little girl came running after,
Sent to bring me home,
Or suffer the guilt of her abandon.
Yet I ushered her away,
And sat down to watch the sunrise
Of a new day.

© PickledSparklyMoosePrincess – author

Accruing detective and shopping skills

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Aaaand just like that, a lazy snap of the fingers and the holiday is over and work returns.

I figured my thighs would be the first to forget how to cycle, but actually after a month hiatus from horse and bike riding my knees and more significantly, my arse, have forgotten their role in this -riding malarkey. So you see, I figured that my bottom aught to be able to cope with just being sat on, and I don’t know if it’s because of those few pounds I dropped, or if maybe there was once some muscle back there that has since degenerated into blubber, but I do know that I’m more than a little sore in the ischial tuberosity region, and that is most inconvenient.

I just got interrupted by my boyfriend asking what I was doing. Apparently it’s ‘mentow’ to write a blog post about my arse. He’s probably right. Sorry. I’ll try and dial back the mental for the rest of the post.

At work, one of the little darlings left a present in the fume hood for me. Some spilt unidentified Chemical. I saw this as an opportunity to play detective and interrogate the witnesses and potential culprits but no-one was playing ball. Someone knows something but they aren’t spilling it. Now I’m left with a pile of potentially toxic, corrosive, irritant, reactive, teratogenic powder to deal with, safe in the knowledge that it is something pretty nasty Because otherwise it wouldn’t be in the fume hood. Watch this space for info on the fallout when I potentially blow up the lab / burn off my face / poison myself trying to clean it up. 

Ah! It’s good to be back at work! Clearly everyone missed me because there was a backlog of health and safety tedium awaiting me, along with some logistical problems. For example, imagine being told you have £17,000 to spend in two days. Woohooo!!! Party time…we can have a life-size Unicorn cake made!! what’s that? Has to be spent on lab stuff? Hmm, ok it’s going to be a pretty nerdy party, but let’s buy some awesome treats that we see other labs have but are too stingey to buy for ourselves,like multicolour sparkly  pipettes, they’d be fun! Huh? What do you mean it has to be spent in our in-house store? Oh, come on! That’s just mean..
What kind of spending spree is that? And just HOW could anyone spend 17K on biros and pipette tips? We had the lamest shopping spree ever and only put a dent in the money that is going to evaporate any minute now. No parties, no cake and certainly no sparkly pipettes. Anyone would have thought that money was meant for research. Damn our usual thrifty nature,  resourceful and unnecessarily strong willpower.

So with all this perfection,
Who’s going to make a brilliant mistake”~tsunami, enter misguided

Grace and the barely concealed teeth of stasis

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Visits home to Mum’s house always feel a bit strange. Especially these days with Gran gone and two houses in disarray and the dog flitting between affection and savagery. No, this is certainly no place for the feeble or unrelated right now.

It’s alright for me as I listen to the national in my backwards facing train seat, watching the drizzly fenland shrink into nothing in the distance but someone had to stay here and live inside the cocoons of weirdness that have been spun here. I’m sad to leave but I’m glad to be able to breath again.

Two dilapidated museums, strung with bells and wind-chimes, crosses and constant reminders of what came before. Dust making unfounded claims on the remnants of another life, unperturbed by months of indecision and tentative rearrangements.

There is a kind of organic density in the darkness here that lighbulbs simply cannot penetrate. Leaving space in the shadows for doubts to multiply and lending every motion to slurring like amateur stopped-motion.

The radio shouts out emphatically about the grace of god like this god could fix things, or make it OK that people suffer so. All I can see is a surface of bright shiny foil covering whatever is really underneath, and can you please tell me why must they keep on focusing on the polishing the shine and not nourishing the foundations of the tangible. I don’t somehow think that jesus is coming to save her from this mess but maybe having something paper-thin and shiny feels like the armour that she needs to wear.

It seems unfair to be leaving, to leave someone behind in this treacle that they have thickened even by themselves – to just walk away from a household in such need of care and hope and vitality.

I’ll be back soon, and I’m bringing my armour to help slay these tenuous webs of guilt and uncertainty. No-one should have to breathe such toxins in every day.

I’m under the gun again,
I know I was a 45 percenter then”

~the national, I need my girl