Nothing special.

Your absence lingers under skin
Though warm in breath such cold lying
By which I mean it’s you not me
Lost in all these words unseen
I try to stay froze in mind and ache
Stay numb to seeing you walk away
Stay sitting distant right by my side
Not make you love or laugh or cry

Hello everyone. My name is Alanna and I feel like I need to reintroduce myself.


(Yes, it has been that long I thought you might have forgotten how big my bum is)


(or how red my hair is)

So, I'm 22, based in South West of the UK. Which means I get to see a lot of countryside and rain.
During the day I work on a farm. Only it's not a farm any more it's actually a major local production site for milk and cream. And I don't actually work with cows or milk but with all the big lorries that deliver the milk and the people what load them. Which means I spend a lot of time in front of a computer system linked up to a network that goes across mainland Europe to Denmark. Or out in the big refrigerated warehouse / loading bay in a high visibilty jacket. That I often forget to take off when I get home.



So that takes up a lot of my time, as work does. But hey, its much better than the last one and it pays for the stuff I do like to do outside of work.
And what would that be?
Well, I assist my partner - Duck and/or Eddie, depending on your acquaintance - who runs his own custom car / sales and occasional metal design business, under the name 'Mini Evolution'. I do the customer service, PR and the accountancy books which keep Mr Taxman happy. I've even started to try and make him an internet presence, but like most things with me this seems to be a continually put-off working project. I'll get there eventually, I'm sure.

Mini Evolution on LJ

I kinda like engines, even though I don't have a license and have to play with my bike off road / be passengered in all our cars. But it's cool - I'll ge there eventually.

I also have Alaskan Malamutes. They be my babies who I cuggles with a lot when I get home in the evening.
Stan The Man / El CapiStan


Miss Maya - My-Low The Moot


But sometimes we try and, like, actually work them, too.



But mostly they just sleep and take up couch space.


I have realised over the last few months that I have turned into a completely boring dog person who actually researches pedigrees, is interested in showing results and all that horrendous stuff. I won't rant or drone on here - most of you aren't interested - but the vain image this world has, though of course accurate for some peoples, is superceded by the desire to keep a breed pure and healthy. And yeah, I think I might actually be aspiring to having a kennel. I am still researching and deciding whether I wish to pursue Alaskan Malamutes outside a companionship and working environment, or perhaps concentrate on one of the two other breeds I hold a strong interest in: the Japanese Akita Inu (wiki) (not to be mistaken with the American-Type Akita (wiki) who though I appreciate I feel are well campaigned in the UK) or the Australian Cattle Dog (wiki).

And then on top of this, when I get a bit of breathing space, I try and write. Because I kinda like playing with words. I'm on DeviantArt and have a website under construction. But I've probably already spoken about that.

So that describes my 7am-1am day to day habits.
I also like metal music and bass-heavy trance. And aesthetics in varying forms.

I'm beginning to realise it's impossible to summarise myself in a LJ entry. But easier than trying to explain everything that's happened over the last few months. We've had police knocking on the door at 2am, a friend hopitalised, the threat of being sued, the witnesses to a marriage break up, the realisation of being owed more than £7000 (like, $12,000) by somebody, the mental breakdown of a close relative. So on and so forth. And hey, if we ever get given our camera back maybe I could document it next time.

Damn. I talk too much. Or maybe not enough. Have missed you all.

I seem lately to only get urges to update LJ when I'm about to go to bed and half falling asleep. Probably because thats when i grab 10 minutes to check my messages and whatnot. But then maybe not. Semi-consciousness must be linked to the desire to splurge ones thoughts before the head hits the pillow. Emptying the brain makes for lighter dreams, perhaps? Regardless I'm not actually going to say anything of interest. I have so much to update on when it comes to me day to day goings ons I don't know where to begin. Life is constantly evolving so much so that it now feels revolving, like I've gone full circle and no longer have any news whatsoever.
Ah well, tomorrow is one of my slightly-less-than-usual Sunday's in work, so I'm off to my bed.
I'm not dead. I still care though many have already jumped ship. My internet time is still limited. Time to brave the ladder and climb my way to bed (repetition - revolving). Bai bai.

I think this is more prose than poetry. it has a narrative. Just about.

Obsession

I do not have a picture of you framed by my bedside so that I can gaze upon your flesh.
(It is long past my musing bedtime, and yet still I do not sleep.)
And if I did, it would not stir in me the uncomfortable passion I might later try to explain to another. No nausea from the sickness of a knotted silk scarf sliding tight-closed in my stomach. No, I may only long for it, in its decadence, from you.
Instead your ache is an annoyance. Dull. It is with a tedium your image stretches across the back of my skull, your shape now distorted to it's bony structure as if you had been born there from the get go. Sometimes when you move, your spine slips along cranial bone and I grit my teeth.
Do you understand my point yet? I look away, at anything else, but still you persist in following my inner gaze. My conscious struggles to find distractions but soon they disperse, mere watery reflections which adept, your movement destroys. Frustrating, that those forward stretched fingers act not in defiance, but rather soothe to smooth the creases formed familiar in my forehead.
Of course I refrain. I do not speak your name aloud, so you whisper in my ears from the inside out, a lilt that echo-skips from drum to bone, percussive in its path. You are at the forefront now, though I close my eyes as if it will make a difference. I see a shooting star in my vision and somehow it makes me think of you. You are both astronomical and biological in your insistence, my fragment.
Time ticks on like this. By now you have me so flustered my skin is prickling, my muscles moving tense in tides of aggravation. I look to the bottom of a glass and yet three seconds, ten minutes, two hours on, I see clear and still your distortion, sensical in what has long become senseless.
The dawn feels iminent. Back to bed, I try, once again, because I'm sure in the daylight it will be easier to ignore you, and when I dream I don't seem to care quite as much. No such luck, not surprised, but drunk and defeated I indulge, to feel dirty in the morning when I taste you on my fingertips under these nerve-bitten nails of mine.
And yes, I do dream of you darling and you are still everything I want you to be, tangible, uncertain and ultimately slipping out of my grasp with every second of growing dew-drop light. Rapid eyes move and see it is only my frame that shatters when it breaks your fall. A sensuous sensation in itself.
And when the alarm clock moans, I still do not have a picture of you framed by my bedside, and I do not want to gaze upon your flesh. My head throbs, voice croaks, and my sobbing soul complains that it wants to go home.

End

Yup. That would be the first time in a while.

The Frail Hour

Three in the morn; when
Sunlight’s sister’s reflected splendour
Slips in nimble stranded shadows
Through the thinning fabric
Stretched not full across my window frame.
In a long drawn breath she sighs, strokes
With fingers insubstantial my sleeping furniture,
My stood still miscellanea, ethereal
In a solemn, silver, lonely light.
My eyes won’t close, but focus sharp
On a room I forget exists in slumber.
Hushed.
An owl wickers wild outside, reminds me of
My solitude.
And I move my gaze to the ceiling, dappled,
Where the shadow of a stalking tabby,
Pads with me, silent, the fragile path,
Meandering back into my dreams.

Written 21st September 2008. AJB.

I uploaded this for my maman. Thought I might as well share it with others too...

Not much to say here really, beyond the fact I have some photos uploaded from the last month that I never got round to posting.

Maya had her hysterectomy op. about two weeks ago. She has recovered very well and her stitches are now out having healed rather nicely (though her coat is already starting to blow - damn hormonal fluctuations). She is, however, suffering from cabin fever and simply cannot comprehend why she has to be all boring and lazy; I cannot wait to get her back out on the rig with El CapiStan, who is very much missing his working partner.

Stan Relaxing


Maya Asleeping


Snuggling:


( Read more... )

Got a migraine at the beginning of the week - full on light sensitivity, vertigo, the works - for the first time in months. Was a bit shit. Been getting on-off headaches since. Nothing major, but enough to make me break out the painkillers so as to remain functional.

Being on and off pills since a young age in many circumstances has me well trained in as much as I rarely bother taking pills with water. Ever. Since the age of 11. The Ibuprofen Lysine
I took today was 650mg. Nothing compared to the monsters I was on after my meningitis thing. BUT within seconds of swallowing I developed a burning sensation in my throat that has grown throughout the day. I've known ibuprofen to give gastric ulcers, but throat? Perhaps a capsule was scratched, had slower than usual transit in my throat due to my not taking water? Perhaps its unrelated. But now it hurts when I swallow and I'm bored of slow eating yoghurt in an attempt to soothe. Had a google. Couldn't come up with much.

Ibuprofen as a Chemesthetic Stimulus: Evidence of a Novel Mechanism of Throat Irritation
Paul A.S. Breslin, Tara N. Gingrich and Barry G. Green1,2
Monell Chemical Senses Center, 3500 Market St, Philadelphia, PA 19104, 1 The John B. Pierce Laboratory, 290 Congress Ave, New Haven, CT 06519 and 2 Section of Otolaryngology, Yale University School of Medicine, New Haven, CT 06519, USA

This paper reports a study of the oral and pharyngeal chemesthetic effects of the non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug (NSAID) ibuprofen [2-(4-isobutylphenyl)propanoic acid], which pilot experiments had indicated produces an unusual sensory irritation of the throat. In experiment 1 subjects swallowed aqueous solutions of ibuprofen prepared with different buffering agents and gave ratings of irritation and taste in the mouth and throat. The results showed that ibuprofen irritates the throat much more than the mouth, and that its quality in the throat is characterized primarily as sting/prick, itch and tickle (often leading to cough). Based upon the results obtained with the different buffering agents, we hypothesized that the sting/prick/itch qualities of throat irritation were pH-dependent. Parametric manipulation of solution pH in experiment 2 confirmed this hypothesis. The same experiment revealed that, in contrast to other oral irritants (e.g. capsaicin and menthol), repeated stimulation caused neither sensitization nor desensitization of throat irritation. In the final experiment we found that ibuprofen’s throat irritation could not be modulated by temperature, as it should be if stimulation occurred via capsaicin-sensitive receptors. We therefore conclude that ibuprofen has novel chemesthetic properties, which are not mediated by capsaicin-sensitive (vanilloid) receptors, and that a major component of the throat irritation it produces occurs via a pH-dependent receptor mechanism.

Source: Link

Yup. But at least my head ain't too bad. I'm gonna get an early night. My phone's been on and off - antisocial avoidance - the last few days, and will continue to be so, so apologies if I've missed or miss messages. It's been one of those weeks - let's hope the month of September bodes better.

So - the lovely Maya - our new addition to the pack.

She began life in Scotland, as a show dog pure and simple, the daughter of Chayo's Blue Thunder and Hawkam's Amber at Malderston.

However her lineage is no longer particularly relevant in a professional sense, as Maya will no longer be shown or indeed bred from. This is because any pure bred dog that goes to a rescue centre should - for ethical reasons - have its Kennel Club papers removed and be spayed/neutered, so as to prevent an ethically-lacking puppy farmer picking them up as a cheap purebred to churn out litter after litter.
So yes, due to an unfortunate change in circumstances, and through no fault of her own, the lovely Maya found herself in Wales with UK Malamute Rescue, looking for a new home.

Now, as the Duck and I realised how much we enjoyed working the Stan in harness, we had realised that getting another dog - probably a malamute - to work with him would be on the agenda - and a girl will always get on better with a boy, since there's no same-sex dominance issues. But we had assumed this would happen by means of a puppy in at least a years time (when the Stan would be less of a stroppy teenager and a better example).
But, thanks to our friend Ash we were alerted to this stunning example of a malamute and we thought - well, having an older lady to put Stan in his place would be pretty good during this difficult adolescent period, not to mention we can put her straight into training on the rig / quad without having to wait for physical and mental development - and of course all the basic training that she's already acquired - as we would have had to with a puppy.

So, following the appropriate paperwork and so on, Thursday 3rd July we picked her up from the rescue centre in Wales and she started her life with us.

First day belly rubs:


Stan and Maya's first walk together on twinned lead:


Not to say that the whole process was an overly easy one. Malamute's are a naturally dominant breed and extremely pack orientated, meaning Stan and Maya's first priority wasn't getting to know each other in an amiable fashion but deciding who was top dog. The answer was obviously Maya - there was no question of that because Stan is just a puppy, less than a year old when they first met. And she is your achetypal mater-figure-alpha-female in every way, to boot.
But Stan was on his high horse, possessive of the house he had grown up in and teenage hormones raging, forcing him to the belief he was higher in hierarchy than the reality of another dog would allow.
In a normal situation they would have had one proper bust up in which Maya pinned him, and all would be clear. But Maya was out of shape - something we're fixing as we train her up - and Stan is a strapping young lad who knew he had a physical advantage and wouldn't give up easy. Our first two days they couldn't be in the same room for more than twenty minutes without a bit off good old fashioned fisticuffs. We were on dog duty 24/7 integrating these two, the result of which beyond genenral fatigue, stress and undue noisiness was quite a few open teeth and claw wounds - Stan now has a manly eyebrow scar, and Maya ended up with an ill-placed ulcer on her cheek that she kept scratching, resulting in this humiliating set up at night when we were too asleep to keep an eye on her scratching efforts:

Maya's socked foot:


But now, 4 weeks on, things are at long last falling into place. Stan still harasses her like a little kid, but a quick warning growl/snap when he pushes her tolerance is keeping him in his place in the mostmain.

She's also picked up harness work very quickly and pulls like a tank. Undoubtedly she still has some fittening up to do, but she's doing 3 miles at jogging pace a day, and is toning up nicely. We defintiely think she has lead dog potential!
It's great to see her personality coming out too. She is generally more aloof and mature than Stan, outwardly very cuddly with a strong maternal streak; but as she relaxes, we're seeing she's also a cheeky, vocal wee bugger, who sings *loudly* to herself when bored and can open any door or cupboard with a handle as if she had opposable thumbs!
So yeah, she's fitting right in with the equally huggable and intermittently naughty spazz mutt that is Stan!

Singing to the Stan in the garage:


And to finish this rambling post, here be some pictures taken about 4 days ago, of the Stan and Maya relaxing on a rare sunny day in our garden:

Maya:


( More )

I am at current sitting in a car park on my laptop. Not for kicks, but because its the only place I can get signal to access my apparnetly mobile internet, which worked absolutely fine where I lived till a storm last Sunday just gone. Pain in the fucking arse is what I call it.

Of course there's been a bit of a storm all round. Got sent home ill by boss-man on Thursday, Dr signs me off as unfit for work on Friday, get home from blood tests Tuesday morning and find my somewhat bitchy letter of dismissal waiting for me. So I'm recovering from a virus, lacking home internet connection and sacked.

No money is no fun, and neither is job hunting - but I'll get through.

So if I and the Duck are internet AWOL for a bit, that be why - can't be forking out for landline broadband if I gots no income, alas, so opportune moments on industrial estate car parks it is. Plans to be replanned and all that.

Au revoir for now, dear readers *muah*

Ok, so a quick summary of things what have happened since (or things I forgot to mention in) my last entry:

- I accepted the offer of a raise from my current workplace and ahve been working ym arse off vaguely consistently
- We sold the Fourtrak and the Surf and are in the process of selling the Skyline
- We purchased a new car transporter and a Mini Clubman Estate and two beetles and a brand new '08 plate truck
- Been doing lotsa doggy stuff with doggy people
- Been thinking about getting the bike out once again as weather improves
- Been thinking about writing again

Somebody nudged me and made me write this very short entry. I am alive - no worries. Just in thought.

Isn't it funny how priorities change as things go on and the memory gets older; and yet we can't forget....

Time for bed.

.. I wrote a story to distract myself from emotional yo-yo-ing.

You can view it on my deviantArt page by clicking this link HERE.

Or you can just follow the cut and read. Comments welcome. But just taking the time to read it and consider it to yourself is more than enough.

( Another Button To Click )

Just a quick Merry Christmas to those who care to hear it. And a rare photo of me (looking shitty after work, of course) with the pup (5 months old and he still thinks he can fit on my knee!)

Have a good one all - will post properly in the new year, methinks.

Dear me – I’m knackered! We’ve found a nice bit of woodland used for trial riding, so decided it would be fun to take the quad over there and scout it out. However doing this in the pitch black and pouring rain, with an eager baby sled dog was not the easiest of tasks. But it was fun! I learnt quite a lot of more technical skills – barely used the throttle until I got stuck on slippery tree roots, spending most of my time at a forty-five degree angle sliding down slopes perilously close to a twelve foot embankment (which Duck did actually end up going down at one stage of our adventure – the part where I got the quad stuck and he had to get me out *coughcough* - luckily at its lowest point). The dog had fun too – on one of the easier bits Ed and I both got on together and let him “pull” it (ie let him run ahead pulling tight on the lead while we followed, praying he wouldn’t decide to explore the river down below, haha)! Twas enjoyable for all parties involved. Though he isn’t in my good books at the moment anyway, as he’s eaten my phone charger. And my phone has promptly run out of battery. Hurrah! So anybody needs to get hold of me, use Ed’s number *rolls eyes*

Anyhow, it would appear I am once again in a position of delay when it comes to updating ye olde LJ – 5 weeks apparently. Quite a bit has happened – the dog has continued to grow, I’ve turned 21 (and got to go to the National Marine Aquarium ^^), my parents announced they would come down and visit for a weekend soon and Duck and I have both acquired motocross bikes (Hell, we may have even found somewhere to ride the fucking things today – no photos as of yet though – next time, I promise). Oh yes, and I am apparently the reincarnation of a red Irish Setter called Scampy. Go figure.
Unfortunately throughout most of it I have been horribly ill. Ok, that’s slight hyperbole, in the sense that it has just been a cold, but it has been a bloody persistent one, drawn out over two weeks so far, and has gone through the varying stages of mild sore throat and sniffles, to full blown sneezing every fifteen minutes, unable to swallow from swollen glands and dizzy-cotton-wool-head-syndrome. Fucking lovely. I think I’m finally at the tail end now, with the mucus well settled in my chest and a braying cough to match. However my work shall be closing from Mon 19th to Sunday 25th of this month, so I actually have a whole week off (enforced, incidentally, with a large section of my holiday days included whether I want them to be or not). So at least if it still hasn’t shifted by Sunday I have a whole week to try and get over it – though I’d much rather spend said week playing on my bike!

In other news I’ve actually been using my forgotten facebook account. Anybody here who has a profile, or fancies creating one for the sole purpose of allowing me to harass them on it (it’s actually strangely addictive – really strangely addictive!) then go look me up: it’s the standard Alanna Johan Blaney routine ^^

Ok, so, still feeling a bit run down and generally worn out, I’m copping out and intending to make this another one of those big old picture posts – thanks to Duck and his camera phone, this documenting Stan’s growth thing is actually quite organised, if over-detailed for most people (I finally understand why my mother needs so many baby photos of me and my sister sleeping, ‘cos when we weren’t she was too busy actually looking after us to document that what was happening!) So here we go – a snapshot account of the puppy over the last month or so, with some other random bits thrown in for good measure.

Oh yes, and to actually put this into context, he was born the 14th of July – so he is 4 months old today! Happy birthday (well, sort of...) Stanners!

( Photo-me-graphs! )

At long last, it is the image post to end all image posts, compensation for all my words over the last few days! Well, 40 images, by my dial-up-related-standards, is pretty fucking big!
And they are all of my lovely lovely puppy and his growth progress over the last few weeks (an Alaskan Malamute, boy by the name of Stan, for those who have missed my brief comments on this subject).
As such, I shall be keeping these in chronological order. Additionally these are mainly taken on a camera phone, hence small quality, and are mere snapshots, nothing photographically serious, so no critique required. Just some intense puppy-gazing.
And so, to begin the cut, an image of my thighs:

( Clicky Me )

With a nauseatingly ominous crunch, he, my long suffering partner in everything but wordsmithery, unscrewed the base of the phone over the table, allowing the emergence of what could only be described as, relative to the usual liquid content of a phone, a tidal wave of tea.
“Mistakes happen.” I tried. He grimaced as the circuit board splashed onto the table.
“It didn’t seem like I spilt that much at the time.” I added. He passed me a strange plastic grid to dry as he delved into more compartments.
“There are worse things to spill tea on” I ventured.
He didn’t reply. The very action would have been pointless – we both knew I’d only gone and fucked it.

Summary.

My last day off: Wednesday 23rd May.
My next *scheduled* day off: Thursday June 7th.
My hours as of late. Fri, Sat, Sun & Monday's: 8.30am - 11.30pm. All other days: 8.30 - 7pm.

I'm not really getting time on the net. I'm not really getting time for anything but promotions and sales.

Goodnight.

Hahaha! It's finally happened. I am officially cool enough to have a myspace copy-cat.

Clicky Me for the Interweb Mirror

So yeah, I'm rather bemused anybody would bother to take my images when there are so many better options available.

Still, feel sorry her. Not only does she lack originality and taste, but she's now the subject of Duck's full frontal, crude and vulgar, sexual suggestions. Mostly involving twin-esque threesomes and frozen bananas, haha! I suggest everybody should take such action, in the hope a barrage of verbose-sexual harrasment brings her to her senses.

All in all, an uneventful day.

The current media trend in Britain, wherein 4x4s have become the scapegoat for all that is evil, epitomised as the scourge of our potentially well-balanced planet, is really beginning to piss me off.

So let’s ignore the fact that in a good percentage of the country, 4x4s are necessary. Britain is a combination of rural landscape and urban city life, and those of us who reside in the former, out of choice or necessity, will find some roads – hell, even accessing our own homes – a nightmare without the added grip, ground clearance and dexterity of a four wheel drive system. And yes, let’s also ignore the fact we do still have an agricultural industry so there are farmers out there who need a 4x4. Let’s just pretend that the only people who exist in this world are mothers doing the school run who live in Islington or Dulwich. And let’s say for arguments sake that they don’t really need all that room and that their owning the vehical is pointless in terms of practicality.

So the fuck what?

There is a – virtually - free market out there in terms of our choice of automobile. If we want and can afford to drive a Lamborghini Diablo in an urban area, despite the fact it will rarely get over 35 miles per hour and you have to hang out the window to reverse it, who cares? If a broke arse estate kid decides to spend all his job seekers allowance on fitting plastic parts to his Peugot that get scuffed over every speedbump, and giving it a loud backbox that serves only to indicate his lack of engine power, let him! This is the joy of freedom of choice; if we can wear what we want, eat what we want, speak to who we want, why shouldn’t we – if legal to do so – drive what we want?
Jeremy Clarkson, who dares to stand up for our freedom of choice in this matter, gets given some grief for driving his Ford GTO – admittedly about the same width as most London roads and in possession of the most ridiculous fuel consumption ever – and yet all the twats in Jaguars with great V12 engines don’t get attacked in the same way because they’re not the ones being focused on by the media because these same individuals are often the same politically correct ponces who eat organic, ensure they recycle correctly and make a monthly contribution to Greenpeace. If we’re going to repress our right to choose our cehicle for environmental reasons, why focus purely on 4x4s, which incidentally are not all “gas guzzlers” but can be in some cases – a little Suzuki, for example – as fuel-effective as a Ford Mondeo estate – the archetypal PC family car. Why not just make maximum engine size 1300cc and have done with it instead of discriminating on a stereotype?

Fuck me, do we need to get out this country.

-----------------------------------------

In other news: tea!