Saturday, 17 November 2018

Please



In my last post, I talked about my completely unwanted talent for attracting unavailable men. About how the only people who seem to be even remotely attracted to me either have wives, girlfriends or fall into the emotionally unavailable category. It's so easy to blame myself, but today I'm realising I need to think about it a different way.

If you're with someone, whether you say they're okay with you seeing other people or not, or you're just not able to date someone for whatever reason, maybe try leaving me the fuck alone? Don't kiss me when no one we know is looking, don't feel me up when we're by ourselves and certainly don't get jealous if you see me with other people. In the same way that you don't want me, I really, really don't want you and you will never truly understand the damage your actions are causing as a result of my BPD. To you it, and I, mean fuck all, but to me, it could mean the possibility of free falling into a never-ending BPD cavern that feels impossible for me to climb out of. I'll manage it, I always do, but it's just something I'd rather avoid.

But you know, that's just a suggestion.

xXx

Thursday, 15 November 2018

Magnetism



As a raging commitment-phobe, I find it hard to admit that I want to be with someone because I rarely know if I actually do. Blame it on past experiences, the worlds all consuming lack of knowledge of the thing living in my brain or my terrible taste in men, but I really struggle to admit it.

One of the main symptoms of BPD is a fear of abandoned, and sweet mother fucking Korean Jesus I wear that mother fucker like a branding. Since I was a teenager I hated getting close to people because I automatically assumed they'd leave, which they often did, and the agony I felt when they were no longer there was way, way more painful than the feeling of being alone. As a result of this, I always think it's safer for me to be alone, whether I want to be or not.

Much like JLo in the 2001 classic The Wedding Planner, I seem to be a magnet for unavailable men. Whether they have girlfriends, wives or are just balls deep in the "I don't want to be in a relationship rn" phase, they flock to me like a noughties teen to Dream Matte Mousse foundation. No matter how hard I try, I seem to fall ass of tit for these fuckers, even though I'm fully aware that we'll never be together, and not wanting them to leave their partners for me in the first place.

Single or not, do I want to start a relationship based on cheating? I think not.

In these situations, it's a balancing act between feeling that I'm not good enough for someone to love and trying to grasp hold of the remaining shreds of my self-confidence without crashing and burning like a mother bitch. Either way, I'm really not sure how to deal with it, but I'm really fucking done.

xXx






Wednesday, 24 October 2018

CANADA BABY




Snaps if you get the reference in the title. 

After what seems like a decade, I'm finally FINALLY moving to Canada next month. I haven't been able to blog much about it but, as I've finally left my job, I'm finally able to shout it from the rooftops.

The whole point of my move was to get the fuck away from England. To put it bluntly, I hate it here. Absolutely mother-fucking hate it. Aside from the people I love there is very little doubt in my mind that I won't miss a thing. 

As a result of this life-changing move, I'm currently balls deep in the process of trying to pack my entire life into a bag the size of an average sized 6 years and it's proving difficult. I'm going back and forth between "I haven't used this in a year so I won't take it" and "oooh but I might need this if I go out". 

Ignoring the fact that I rarely leave the house. 

Last night, thanks to a really good friend, I realised that, in doing this, I'm completely losing sight of why I decided to move in the first place. I'm not moving to transport my entire life to another continent, I'm moving to start a brand new one. I don't need to take 101 things that exclusively apply to my life in England, because it's not going to exist passed November 11th. It's ending, and I couldn't be happier if you paid me. 

Now I've remembered why I'm going, I'm feeling a lot calmer. It's over, it's done. I'm waving to goodbye to all the bad things that have happened and I'm starting a new life thousands of miles away.  

And I can't fucking wait. 

xXx




Thursday, 4 October 2018

Travel FOMO


Hey fellow nomads,

Greetings from Barcelona

Today is my last day in Spain before I head over to Budapest, my flight leaves at 4pm so I've got a few more hours to myself before I head to the airport. Part of what I love about travel is that I get to be left the fuck alone when I want which, due to my unrelenting aversion to people, I'm really on board with. Sure I love meeting new people when I'm on the road, some of which I still talk to regularly despite not having actually seen them for over a year, but overall, I really do prefer being by myself.


What I've noticed through joining multiple travel Facebook groups, some of which I've been forced to leave due to my being severely irritated by other people's stupidity*, is that FOMO, or fear of missing out, is a huge issue within the travel community. People are convinced that, in order to actually succeed as a solo traveler, that they have to do something every second of every day, when they would never normally do so at home.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, I tire very easy, and find it difficult to be constantly active throughout the day. I also enjoy simply exploring when I'm away which is why, unless I'm travelling with someone else, I tend to avoid any form of tour, event or pub crawl.

You accidentally end up on a stag do once and you're put off for life.

When I'm away I'm happy to sit and read or enjoy a coffee in the sunshine when I need to, but sometimes it can make me feel like I'm not making the most of my time away. What I've come to realise, however, is that it's pointless to try and cram every event or activity in my time away, if unrelenting exhaustion is going to prevent you from enjoying yourself. Yes, this may seem like a once in a lifetime trip, but the world isn't going anywhere. If you want to do something every second of every day, do it, but if you find yourself only being able to fit in a certain number of activities, then that's okay too.


I personally am one of the latter, so I'm off to hunt down some of the godly nectarines I had for breakfast yesterday and plan out my route to the airport. Check out my travel photos on my Instagram, and I'll post again when I'm in Budapest.


Enjoy your travels,

xXx

* Would you accept a stranger on a seemingly reputable website telling you that, in order for you to stay in their house, you had to share both a bed and showers? No, so why the fuck are you considering doing it while you're away? This my friends is natural selection at its finest.

I found my flights to Barcelona cheaply at www.skyscanner.com and my accommodation on www.hostelworld.com. I'm currently staying at hellobcnhostel.com

Find me on Instagram at @ThatNomadJess 

Sunday, 16 September 2018

Counting




For someone who hated maths so much in high school, I spend a lot of time counting. I've counted the hours I couldn't sleep, I've counted the calories I've eaten and burned off, I've counted the lbs I've lost, the Ibs I've gained and the Ibs I've yet to banish. I've counted money and debt, days and Instagram followers, minutes and days and blog views.

I came to this realisation on Friday night at a gig. I was at the Islington Memorial Hall listening to The Devil Makes Three and, instead of relaxing, dancing and enjoying myself, all I could think about was money. Even at that moment, I couldn't stop thinking about whether or not I'll have enough money to go to Canada.

Truth is, I don't really believe I deserve money. My parents supported me a lot financially growing up and they still do, but all this does is make me feel ashamed. Ashamed because, despite everything I've achieved, I still struggle with the most basic of tasks. Ashamed because of how much of that money I've spent on drinking, drugs and things that I believe I don't deserve because of how much I enjoy them despite the fact that I'm perfectly within my right to be happy.

Planner supplies, all of the planner supplies.

I'm fully aware that this is something I need to let go of, but it's also something I struggle to shake. Every day I'm blanketed by the belief that I don't deserve something. Don't deserve money, don't deserve happiness, don't deserve love, all because of the things that I"ve done and the person I've been. This all-consuming blame, shame and self-hatred clouds every aspect of my life and I don't know how to let it go. Don't know how to convince myself that deserve all of these things.

And I really don't know how to fix it

xXx

Friday, 14 September 2018

Review: Just by Jenny Morton Potts



Just by Jenny Morton Potts

Book tour alert

This week, I was lucky enough to be sent a copy of Just by Jenny Morton Potts. As with Death before Dishonour by Kenny Hyman, it was unlike anything I've ever read before and, whilst a little OTT in some places (a broad statement from me I know) I still really enjoyed it.

It's not exactly the most classic plot line. The protagonist, a dentist named Lucienne, finds out her ex is dead whilst her son is in Libya doing something that vaguely involves clearing dead bodies off of a beach (although I'm sure there's a more pc term for that, that's what I'm sticking with). Whilst there her son falls for another doctor and, via an accidental pregnancy, a faked death and an illegal boat ride, everything vaguely turns out alright at the end.

Return to my part about it being a little over the top. However, the reason I enjoyed it had a lot less to do with the plot line and more to do with the book in itself.

First of all, it's short, and even though my concentration levels seem to be improving and the splitting is easing up a little, things that I can read quickly make me feel a lot better than those that take me a decade and a half to fight through. And, second of all, it's beautifully written.

I mean, stunningly written.

As a writer, I far more enjoy immersing myself in well constructed and description heavy pieces of shorter literature than fighting through something I don't find to be as well written for the sake of a better plot line. And, whilst the plot itself was more than a little bit far fetched and I had more than a couple WTF moments, the writing itself made up for it a million times over.




Overall, it's great if you like short and intense reads and beautiful writing. I just feel that the plotline could have been toned down a little, or that the book needed to be longer to give the reader more of an insight and explanation as to why events unfolded in the way that they did. Overall rating? 3.5 / 5

xXx

Just by Jenny Morton Potts can be purchased via amazon.co.uk and amazon.com 

Author info 



My info 

Thursday, 6 September 2018

The Scented Bones by Angelina Kerner







First of all, my blog schedule is pretty shocking atm, but I'm hoping to be able to write something longer than an Instagram post soon. While I've been waiting for my fingers linked up with my brain again, I've been taking part in some more book tours. The most recent being about The Scented Bones by Angelina Kerner. 

The first novel in The Svabodina Case Files series, The Scented Bones focuses on the work of Angel Svabodina, an anthropologist just starting out in her field. Embedding herself in a new case, the unexpected arrival, and subsequent disappearance, of an inhuman skeleton, leads Angel into a world of witches, werewolves and vampires. Trying to intricately assemble the thinly worn veil of secrets that surround her current case, she must place herself in the path of the royalty that controls it. 
A petrifyingly entertaining read, it's a must for fans of Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter series,



Excerpt 

I turned around in time to see a black-haired young man walk in, pulling off his black and yellow headphones. He stopped in front of me with a goofy grin on his face. His black bangs covered his brown eyes for a second before he pushed them back.
“You know? It’s hard finding this place,” he commented. “One would think there’d be arrows pointing to the Bones lab.”
“We don’t like visitors,” I said crankily.
“My name is Jack,” he introduced himself. “Jack Fadden. I’m here to apply for the job of assistant to the forensic anthropologist.”
A sinking feeling gripped at my heart. Melissa, my boss, had decided two assistants would be better than one, especially since she wanted to take more vacation time. She’d left me a list of candidates to interview, and I’d forgotten, thanks to the skeleton on the table. 
I sighed and found the folder with the list. Jack Fadden was indeed there. 
What type of an imbecile would wear jeans and a worn-out T-shirt for an interview? And why drop in at the end of the day on a Friday afternoon?
“Do you have a resume?” I asked as I tugged my own shoulder-length hair behind my ear.
“I have it here somewhere,” Jack replied and opened his backpack. “What’s your name, boss?” 
“Angel Svobodina,” I replied taking his resume from his hand, which he’d found surprisingly fast. 
“Nice name,” he laughed, “Angel, the forensic anthropologist. I guess you do allow people to get their halos.”
“I’m an angel with horns,” I replied.
“You’ve got a sense of humor!” Jack exclaimed. “Thank goodness. I need to be able to work with someone fun.”
“I’m sorry, but who’s interviewing whom?” I asked. 
It was really hard to keep my face neutral because the guy’s attitude was contagious with his easy-going manner.
Jack held his hands up. “Sorry. Proceed.”
Quickly, I scanned his resume, which didn’t look promising. He hadn’t declared a major, and, worse yet, according to the list of significant classes he’d taken, the only one that qualified was human physiology. Forensic anthropologists tended to deal more with the 206 bones of the human body, rather than the tissues and organs. 
I eyed him from the corner of my eyes and shook my head. I didn’t know how to proceed without hurting his feelings. Jack seemed to be holding his breath as I thought about how to let him down. It was like he knew he wasn’t going to get the job and looked sad. 
“I’m sorry . . .”
Jack’s expression changed. There was something more behind the sadness, but I wasn’t sure what it was, other than something dark.
“It looks like you don’t have enough experience. It’s a highly competitive field with limited open spots, and not for undeclared majors.”
“Harsh,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, “but I don’t really know why you decided to apply for the position. What do you know about forensic anthropology?”
“I know this skeleton is missing some bones,” he replied, grinning.
I rolled my eyes. “Good guess. However, it’s not good enough. Good day, Jack Fadden.”
“Oh, come on,” he complained, “let me help with the body. At least, let me show you I know what I’m doing. I can’t kill the patient since they’re already dead.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Disrespectful much?”
“Please,” he said. Something flashed in his eyes, making me question my decision. “You’ve got nothing to lose.”

The Scented Bones will be released on September 28th and can be pre-ordered on Amazon  www.amazon.com/dp/B07DHZFBD4/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_i_lCGfBbW5DZMZ1