May. 6th, 2010

06.05.10

May. 6th, 2010 09:21 am
whitenoise: (condoms)
Soooo...

*blows dust off LJ*

I've been very lazy as of late, hence like a month's absence. I got a bit busy with going over to the States to visit my mom, freaking out about a goddamn volcano, and then being in a funk once I was back in the UK.

I've learned I really can't win in life in some ways. I'm extremely lucky in so many ways, but I'll always suffer from the 'grass is greener' syndrome. When I was in the States, I'd miss small things about England. But when I'm here I miss loads of things about the States, and god, my mom. I miss her loads, and it hurts more this time than when I left in September.

Honestly, if it wasn't for Steve, I'd have no real reason to leave the US. I've never really felt like I've needed to live over here--it's a great country to visit, but if it wasn't for my marriage I'd more likely than not be perfectly content in the US. Visit the UK once every year, have some curry, drink some Guinness, and then go home and have my Taco Bell.

But, I also really love Steve, like loads of course. And I chose this since I want to be with him, but it doesn't stop the homesickness and the slight heartache I feel sometimes. I don't tell anyone about it, even though I think Steve knows it's there, since talking about it isn't really going to make anything better. This is our life for the next 7 or 8 years, and then who knows? Going to the US is a bitch, but I'll look into things at that point since Steve wouldn't be completely opposed to living Stateside.

Like I said, the UK is nice, but I'll never truly fit in. It's incredibly fake for me to pretend that I do, and I can't stand that. But I also don't like the vaguely uncomfortable feeling I bag myself with when I go out and open my mouth, or try to count the money, or get a blank look on my face when someone tells me some small-ass town they're from and I have no fucking clue where it is. I'll just try my best to keep my head down and stay legal.

But that's really boring too, I suppose. I really need help, and I keep telling myself I'll phone the doctor, but it isn't in my nature to phone them unless I think I have an infection or something serious. I don't like calling them 'just for a visit', though I got a letter through the post from the NHS inviting me for a fucking pap smear (fail). Maybe I'll do it tomorrow since my cell phone needs to charge, and I don't dare use the landline or else BT will own my soul because phones are fucking retarded in the UK.

Yes, I'm very negative lately. I've been in a 'fuck you' mood lately, hence my silence. I don't really care a lot about a lot of things and don't have patience for a lot of bullshit, but little things are also getting on my tits around the house. Heaven forbid you pick the towel up off the floor and back on the rack. Heaven forbid you pick your crap off the counter, or rinse out your plate, or pick up your shit--why do it, Tams is here all day with the cat, and she's worth half a shit so she can do it.

We're headed up Sheffield way on the 29th, which will be a mini vacation that just happens to coincide with our anniversary. Steve's mate is turning 30 and he invited us up, and since it's a bank holiday we can stay through till Monday so Steve has time enough to sober up. Roger will be coming with us, sans doggy since he's being retired on the 17th (more fail). We're also going to Alton Towers for Iain's birthday, which I'm not really thrilled about--I hate amusement parks, and it's not how I'd spend my birthday (which we will do, since his is on Friday and mine's on Saturday), but it's something special he wants to do. So, I'll pretend I'm on happy pills and suck it up for the kids or something retarded like that.

~Tams

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