Good evening.
I'm literally back in the country a few hours, having been in Birmingham with my beau. He was performing at the Madhouse Bar, which was a somewhat intimate gig. Intimate being an extreme understatement. We stayed in a hotel on Warwick road which was also somewhat intimate. I hated my experience in Birmingham, it was far too busy, far too noisy and a complete fucking maze. However, the people were lovely, which to be honest (and I don't know why) I wasn't expecting. Everyone was really helpful, especially the folks from the Hotel, after my experience there I've never been more glad to be back in bonnie Scotland, my heart done a wee dance when we crossed the border, so back to hopscotching over meandering lakes of blood, piss and Subway wrappers at 5am - yes fucking please! I think being in a completely alien territory really helps you to appreciate your home.
On another slightly unfortunate note, I've managed to get myself into a very sticky situation, my worst fear. Go me! An unwanted visitor so to speak. Now, I do pride myself on having fairly strict views on having a baby, that is never, under any circumstances would I ever want one, my partner I assure you feels quite the same way. But I suppose that the human brain is an intricate piece of equipment, the first couple of days were spent in a completely militant-never-ever mindset, after a few days I started thinking "What would it be like?" "Would it look like me?" I became somewhat understanding and caring for the tiny being growing inside me. Now, the problem was that the dreamer in me said yes! Have the baby - it'll be great! But the realist in me was screaming that I was only 19, still in education and part-time work with not nearly enough cash to start a family. But that didn't change the fact that it was my little baby, inside me, a little part of me that I would bring into the world, he or she could be a doctor, a vet or better yet a musician. But my partner doesn't share my adoration for the clump of genes, and assures me that a termination is the right thing to do. And yes, I know it's my choice. But is it really?
I mean having a child therefore means giving up my life, my job, my health and jeopardising my relationship. No more booze, no more cigarettes, no more drugs just, me and my partner who would more than likely be miserable, peniless and stripped of any free time. So, the way that I see it, it's not really my choice - it would all kinds of stupidity to decide to have this child, and rationality points me in the direction of the National Health Service. Burying myself under a pile of work seems the logical thing to do.
Off to London next, hopefully to get Jimmy a good career. =P
See ya.
.
I'm literally back in the country a few hours, having been in Birmingham with my beau. He was performing at the Madhouse Bar, which was a somewhat intimate gig. Intimate being an extreme understatement. We stayed in a hotel on Warwick road which was also somewhat intimate. I hated my experience in Birmingham, it was far too busy, far too noisy and a complete fucking maze. However, the people were lovely, which to be honest (and I don't know why) I wasn't expecting. Everyone was really helpful, especially the folks from the Hotel, after my experience there I've never been more glad to be back in bonnie Scotland, my heart done a wee dance when we crossed the border, so back to hopscotching over meandering lakes of blood, piss and Subway wrappers at 5am - yes fucking please! I think being in a completely alien territory really helps you to appreciate your home.
On another slightly unfortunate note, I've managed to get myself into a very sticky situation, my worst fear. Go me! An unwanted visitor so to speak. Now, I do pride myself on having fairly strict views on having a baby, that is never, under any circumstances would I ever want one, my partner I assure you feels quite the same way. But I suppose that the human brain is an intricate piece of equipment, the first couple of days were spent in a completely militant-never-ever mindset, after a few days I started thinking "What would it be like?" "Would it look like me?" I became somewhat understanding and caring for the tiny being growing inside me. Now, the problem was that the dreamer in me said yes! Have the baby - it'll be great! But the realist in me was screaming that I was only 19, still in education and part-time work with not nearly enough cash to start a family. But that didn't change the fact that it was my little baby, inside me, a little part of me that I would bring into the world, he or she could be a doctor, a vet or better yet a musician. But my partner doesn't share my adoration for the clump of genes, and assures me that a termination is the right thing to do. And yes, I know it's my choice. But is it really?
I mean having a child therefore means giving up my life, my job, my health and jeopardising my relationship. No more booze, no more cigarettes, no more drugs just, me and my partner who would more than likely be miserable, peniless and stripped of any free time. So, the way that I see it, it's not really my choice - it would all kinds of stupidity to decide to have this child, and rationality points me in the direction of the National Health Service. Burying myself under a pile of work seems the logical thing to do.
Off to London next, hopefully to get Jimmy a good career. =P
See ya.
.
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