Thank you

I'm still trying to suss out after all this time what the allure of twitter is, it's like the freshly made chocolate cake you just gotta dib your finger in, the hanging icicle that you just got to snap or for someone like me (with the mental age of a 4 year old) the puddle you just have to jump in.

I guess it's that time of year when everyone and myself included starts to think back on the year that has nearly ended. To be honest it's been the shittiest year of my life ever, period. My marriage was the the toughest ever, adoption social workers have played with my emotions like a alsatian chewing a bone. My father had a heart attack in front of me, my mums got terminal cancer and I've closed my business I spent 12 years building and 6 years training for.
Fucking hell, it's hardly the bloody Waltons is it? Truth is yes, its been a shitty year but we're all still standing so it's the fucking best yet. I don't care about my work, I care about people and I'd happily care for all of them forever if meant they stayed around for longer. Things in other areas are better and the most beautiful thing happened to me this year is that the man from Delmonte said yes Lotty you can have your baby girl and the adoption stork brings her in January. How cool is that, I still can't bloody believe it, I get to have a BABY GIRL, that, like wears pink and everything!!! That I can only dream I have the closeness like I have with my mother now. Shit a fucking breeze block! Miracles do bloody happen and they happen to me, who'd have thought it, little northern Lotty plodding along......BOOM ere you go love have a dream come true, apparently I'm allowed! I think that's what's called a result.

So where does twitter fit it? Well many ways and in many forms actually but the biggest is I've shared it all with you along the way, I've said this in blogs before; people use twitter for many different reasons, I use it to vent, to get stupid thoughts freed from my mind and to spit the gristle out when life being a bastard (it's been a bloody life saver this year) Hands up! I'm a pure 100% selfish twitter user, don't give a shit what people think, its the only area of my life its all about the lotty and I still bloody forget that people read my ramblings, as you all are now...you bloody idiots. A thing happened though I started giving a shit about you beautiful people and I bloody love that. I've been lucky enough to meet some of you folk this year and I happily call you real 3D friends now and you've even seen my limp, third nipple and squint and you still love me, fancy that.

I'm still a selfish twitter user and will happily continue to do be so, but some of you I genuinely want to speak too everyday. Your wonderings into my real life have been like finding a chocolate bar you forgot you had, a happy perk if you will.
I'm blessed to have met you and to have shared some very special and quite frankly 'thank god I'm wearing my Tena lady moments.' I've sometimes been sat in front of the screen with tears of laughter streaming....I love that, I am truly blessed. So thank you you beautiful people, for everything you have been, everything you are and everything you will be, your as freaky as fuck and at nutty as a snickers but I love you in all your wondrous ways twitter folk, here's to 2012 and this time next year when we're all still standing again, but just that little bit taller and wiser eh.

Love you guys and gals, you know who you are because I'm never afraid to say it. I'm like that in life with all my friends and family, if you love someone tell em because everyone wants to know they are loved and cared about. I guess that's the nail on the head, twitter you are now part of my real life and I embrace you like a bacon buttie when I'm hungover. Thank you for being there and making in a 140c my shitty year just that little bit bearable.

Mwah xxxxxx

By the way, I don't wear Tena lady so piss off!!!

Strength

It's nearly here, all the scans, all the hospitals over the past four months and it's looming forever closer. Tomorrow we go for a 'chemo talk' chemotherapy starts on Tuesday. My mum will go from being a strong woman to a weaker version of her once self but I know her strength will shine through as bright as the fireworks over the Thames on new years eve.
I'm a mini carbon copy of my mum, she's amazeballs, I knew that before all this shit but now I see it even more so everyday. We have the same attitude to life, the same silly ways, we both look at each other after a hottie walks past us, we always enjoy every special moment and usually the simplest things in life give us the most joy. We have the same eyes, the same obsession with handbags and the same silly giggle, we both put everyone else before us and it's only when our bodies give up we take a moment to ourselves.
What's scary is I have to be strong for both of them, since my dad had his heart attack 5 weeks ago, he's aged considerably. I've given up my business's to care for them both; no hesitation I'd do it forever if it means they live longer and see their grandchildren in their school plays and growing out of there shoes as quick as the hulk does.
So where is this strength? Its in there some where, sometimes I can feel it as strong as my sons hug first thing in the morning, sometimes it hides away like a lion at the back of the wardrobe to Narnia. I will find it day by day but I will also allow myself to be weak because I am human after all.

I know where the strength will come from it will come from her, just as she taught me not to pick my nose in public and to make sure my skirt isn't tucked in my knickers when I come out the loo, she taught me how to be strong, how to enjoy every precious moment you can while you can. I will get to live after this, she won't, she will live on in all of us; we all live on in our children and I am so so proud to be like her.
So however weak she will be I will be her strength, her light when it dark her smile when she is crying because I'm her and I learn't from the best. I'm the luckiest girl in the fucking world, bring it on you bad boy cancer, we've a few more memories and smiles to enjoy before you take her from us.

xxxxx

While I'm here, I just want to say a huge thank you to all my wonderful friends on twitter that are helping me though this shitty journey. I'm generally ok most of the time and twitter is my escape when all around me is crumbling. Your kind words, sillies and laughter help me through every single day. I know most people don't get twitter but those of us that do and are lucky enough to find true life long friends through it, know that the faith and the power of human kindness can be restored through a simple 140 characters. Thank you you beautiful people, you know who you are but a special thank you to puss flaps, you are my rock ;) xxx

Holding Hands

I love the cinema, actually I love going to the cinema on my own; some peoples idea of sticking a pin in your arm in the dark, but it's pure indulgence for me. I was a lucky girl tonight, tonight I went with my dear mum....if you read my blog you will know she has a nasty terminal thing growing in her begging with C. Yes that dirty bad boy, you wouldn't know looking at her she looks stunning,beaming almost, although Im just starting to notice the tiredness in her eyes; tiredness only a daughter would see.

We had a beautiful, poignant moment that upon describing sounds so dreadfully sad but on reflection was a moment I will hold in my heart for the rest of my life, rather like when I hold a bar of chocolate so tight in my hand if someone mentions the word share.
The scene, a mother a daughter sat together, mother dying of cancer, she was offered a job away but the daughter didn't want to go because her mum, the one and only mum we get was dying, she told her to go, live her life and she told her she was proud......me and mum were sat holding hands anyway..in-between shoving minstrels in our gob quicker than a whippet chasing a rabbit on speed. This moment in the film came, silence, no munching, we held hands, stoked fingers, squeezed each others hands tight, never moved, never looked at each other, tears streaming, the words saying what we were both feeling...then the mum in the film said "I'm not planning on dying yet." We both smiled, squeezed hands tighter and wiped the snot discreetly from our noses.

Sounds so sad doesn't it, it wasn't it was beautiful, truly beautiful, magical almost, made me realise what I already knew...this woman is my being, she has taught me so much; how to handle life, how to be strong, how to be a mother myself, how to not give a fuck what people think of you or what you look like, sing to a good song even if it's in a quite cinema (yeah we did that too) but most importantly how to love. How bloody lucky am I!

Go see the film 'The Help,' go on your own or take someone you love, breath it in like a good Vicks vapour rub, come out smiling then go dance in the street like no one is looking....you only live once right.

Thanks for reading lovelies xxx

My Heart

It's 3am, the day after the news my mums got in-operable liver cancer. I guess this is called reasonable insomnia, that's ok then; I officially have permission not to sleep and be as grumpy tomorrow as the hulks seamstress.

Half an hour ago I thought my heart was going to break, but my husband held me, and I cried real earthy tears of sadness from deep inside my heart and let them dry on my pillow while he rocked me like a baby. I felt great after, nowt like a good cry as my grandad always said, you'll pee less love.

Millions of people go through this, I'm/we are not special and I know that! I really do but as everything in life when it's happening to you and people you would die for are facing a short future of pain it grips your soul as tight as your child's hand holds yours on the first day of school.
I'm blessed, we all are, but I'm blessed in a way that my parents, particularly my mother taught me from an early age to live everyday life as if it could all end tomorrow, how fucking cool is that!
It's weird since the news yesterday you think about what you want to do with the person you have limited time, I can think of a few, not many because thankfully I've already done so many of them-that's like winning the lottery in my book.
One of my biggest sadnesses is that my mum won't spend a great deal of time with my baby girl, hopefully some, please fucking god some. I need there skin to touch, there souls to link, there smiles to share and there eyes to lock and I want my mum to push my baby on the swings. They will, I will make it happen as fast as I can!

The other sadness is the pain and weakness she is about to face, she's as tough as jockeys arse my mum and my inner strength has always come from her, I learnt from the best. We will fight the physical pain together and will look after her if it means I age 20 years in the next god knows how many months, I don't care. I can always Sellotape my wrinkles back because I'll be living and breathing and moaning about the price of fuel, she will be in the sky with my other beloved lost ones.

There's no happy to ending to terminal cancer, but the happiness comes from the life that you have already lived. I sat yesterday with my mum and dad, looking at the beautiful view from there house, all drinking whisky, all crying and my mum said she's had the most wonderful life, held my hand, held my dads, looked into his eyes and said that's because I've shared it with you and our beautiful children and grand children.
Heartbreaking, but probably one of the most beautiful things I have ever ever heard in all my life.....see life fucking rocks doesn't it. I'm not going to say all the cliches, but please do one thing when you've read this; go hug someone you love and cherish that moment. However long or short you get to hold them, kiss them, breathe them, feel them and love them because that memory will last a lifetime; however long or short that will be.

Thanks for reading kids, do get a tissue you look like shit xxxxxxx

Red Lipstick, Mothers, Daughters and Three Wishes

I woke up this morning as normal, got power dressed (which basically means tried not to look rough as shite) put my lucky red patent shoes on and slapped on some red lipstick. Me and my husband went to a children's home where the adoption offices are, for a fighting meeting about a baby girl.
I was sat on an over large sofa my feet didn't touch the floor, I felt like a child myself. I had my notes, three social workers facing me all staring at me with there heads tilted and smiling like fucking idiots but firing questions at me like bullets from a gun. I fought my corner, our corner, her corner.

It wasn't an ideal outcome, we agreed to compromise on our differences but the outcome was better than winning the lottery or getting the perfect job.....she's going to be ours! I can't believe I just typed that, she's there (less than 30 miles away) and I'm here, writing about her. She doesn't know me yet, I love her already. I've not even seen a picture yet but I love her, so so much.

Adoption is weird, no doubt about it, I was at the hospital the other day with my mum, my baby girl was born in my home town. I walked past the baby unit where she was born....she was there about a year ago to the day, her birth mother had walked on floor I had, looked at the same terrible paintings on the wall. She disappeared after ten days and my baby girl is finding her way home to Lotty towers, to mummy and daddy and her big brother.

When I was younger and now still, all I ever dreamed of was being and artist - check! Being married by the time I was 30 - check! Also having children, especially a girl, I'm particularly close to my mum, she's like the sister I never had and all I ever wanted was the chance to share the things I have shared and still do with my mum; do girly stuff and make memories to last a lifetime, simple things, they're always the best.
It seems in January all my dreams may have come true - shit a fucking brick, how cool is that! Yes it's cool, but it scary and wonderful at the same time, I have no expectations of her, or my son, I just want them to be themselves, follow their heart, be kind, loving and true to themselves always.

So there it is, dream number three; there are a zillion other things I want to do in my life but my three genie wishes just might be coming true. When I have looked my baby girl in the eyes and held her on my skin and kissed her little hands...the only thing left to do is place her in my mums arms and hold them both so tight and remember that moment for a life time, in my heart, in my mind, in my blood, in my bones.

The one thing that matters to me most in this world is remembering special moments and memories like that because you can search the world and look for happiness all your life, but it's that simple moment of love, with people you love, no matter how short, that means the most, that make you smile, laugh and cry all at the same time; here's to those moments and here's to cherishing them and holding them in our hearts forever.

See you soon baby girl.


Xxxx

Adoption

It's been a while kids, too long, but as all the best bloggs are this one is powered by passion. Here goes;

As most of you are aware I have an adopted son and my husband and I are adopting again, before I start I will say one thing that this not an anti-adoption blogg. If any of you are even considering it, don't consider a moment longer just do it; it's the most rewarding thing anyone can ever do, the joy of being a parent holds no bounds as you know but the joy of being an adoptive parent- well that's just the icing on the cake, the orgasm with sex and the breath of fresh air you take when reaching the top of a a mountain. (Just to be clear I've never actually reached the top of a mountain but I'm sure it's as I imagine.) Oh look at that I'm digressing...yes Lotty is back.

So without going into details for obvious reasons...there is a girl, a baby girl, the girl I'm not meant to get attached too yet, but I let my tough side slip and I already have and it could be like loosing the child I never met and I've never even seen a picture of....I didn't think that could happen in adoption but you live and learn eh.

Her nationality is not British but she was abandoned in my home town by her birth mother after a few days. She and the her birth mum had some serious diseases during and after pregnancy but thankfully baby is all clear now, her birth mother had no care whilst pregnant and well who knows..the file is very small and information is as sparse as cleaning products in my house. As with my son, I feel no anger towards her (I know many that would and do) I feel only empathy and sadness for her, no one chooses to make mistakes but her life obviously led her that way and I hope where ever she is that she is safe and healthy.

So last week we met with the powers that be and we were interviewed to see if they thought we were a good match (rather like interviewing a left foot to see if it gets on with the right foot.) Apparently I found out today they think we are a great match and we will make excellent parents for baby and were very impressed with us (well yeah...no shit Sherlock, don't they know they are dealing with Lotty here...if I'm going to do something and being a parent is no different I give my heart, soul, mind, last rolo and everything in-between.)

So what's problem? The problem is baby has a traditional very very distinctive name, a beautiful name in fact however because she was born in my home town this is a safety risk as far as we are concerned. Although there was no address for the birth mum, someone would have known her, the particular culture she is from has a very strong community here...she must have had friends, friends who knew her, friends who cared for her, friends who would know she was pregnant.
Therefore we are asking if we can give her a new name, and keep her birth name as her middle name.However it seems the clever social workers say no!

Yes, just as Zammo from Grange Hill said no drugs, the people from the social service say no! Where do you go from here? You tell me...I tell you what though I've had a few hours to digest this shit and I ain't turning my back on that little baby girl without a fight; even if I end up more battered and bruised than a rare steak in a boxing match with Ali.
They are saying it's the only thing her mother gave her, yes I understand this, but her mother gave her life, her looks, her soul and her breath. We understand the importance of it and we are willing to compromise to end of the earth...keep her original name on paperwork, let her choose her name when she is older but call her a new name for now.....anything, we won't deny her cultural heritage, we would even take her to her the country her blood is made from and let her see part of her identity in real life.

So at the moment the powers that be say no, like the man from Del Monte on a bad day, our social worker is feeding back to the powers that be tomorrow, I know they will still say no...so they better watch out because Lotty is going to kick some ass. Adoption is a long process but I didn't think I'd have to fight for for my baby girl....even more ironic that they want us, like us and are impressed by our personalities, understanding and skills as parents; but are potentially willing to put this baby's life on hold to find another match.

I haven't seen a picture of her, but I read her file and I wanted her, I wanted to look after her, to hold her on my skin and sing her to sleep, to mop up her sick when she pukes and to make her like my terrible cooking. It sounds stupid all this over a name, but safety HAS to be paramount when adopting and I can't believe I may have to give her up even before she was even mine, but tonight I decided we will fight because she deserves it, she deserves someone to give a shit about her and if I have to say good bye before looking into her eyes, as long as I have done everything in my power then I will have to live with the fact of never seeing her and knowing that maybe she just wasn't the one.

I'll keep you posted, let's just hope the next ones a happy one eh.

Wherever you are sweetheart, sleep tight, have sweet dreams because you deserve them and don't forget mummy and daddy will fight to the end so we can hear you sleeping in the next room. I know I shouldn't but I think I love you already.

XXX

Big Brother, Cooking Sherry and Ginger Biscuits

It’s been a while since I blogged, I think I might have forgotten how to do it, oh no, hold on look here we go.

 Funny old month or so in Lotty’s life, lots of private stuff going on that hurts sometimes a bit more than being stood on by a giant with a weight problem, however as you all know I’m an eternal optimist and last week a bit of light shined and I’m powering through as they say. Who the fuck are ‘they’ when people say that? Anyway, where was I? Oh yes what to blog about; I was pissed the other night (you know on cooking sherry, the good stuff mind) and I realized there are so many number of subjects I want to blog about but one that keeps cropping up and which has been a good source of my bright light this month is ‘social networking’.

It’s such a modern saying and I really don’t like the phrase, it makes me wince like when I’m epilating but it seems to be quite a source of smiles of late, but the difference is I used to fight it and think I shouldn’t be doing it, but now I don’t – ‘I am at one with ones social network’ For fucks sake…excuse me while I try and fold my legs across my knees and shave my head and start chanting whilst wearing a sheet!

Whatever your choice of poison (as you know mine is twitter) I love it because I actually get to say what I’m thinking and not give two flucks what people think. This is unique in life; it’s like having the freedom of a 5 year olds brain and mind of an adult in a sweet shop that doesn’t care about oral hygiene.  I used to like it to nosey at celebs, yes we’ve all done that and tried to think of one liners to get another one liner back…cheap thrill, good at the time…move on please thank you. I also used to love noseying into people’s lives, but now I go on there so see how people are, who I actually care about. I know I’ve met some friends for life on there and it’s a bit mind blowing to be honest but all rather lovely; people who I have met and will meet in the future (oh by the way this isn’t a license to ask to meet me, so freaks please kindly piss off, before meeting anyone I get them checked by FBI and frisked and always I have minders with me when I meet anyone.)

The whole social networking malarkey brings me back to people, I love people, I love meeting and mixing with people from all warps of life, cultures and backgrounds and Jesus if you don’t find em on twitter I think you’ve typed in twatter into Google by mistake. Of course nothing replaces meeting someone in real life, but twitter allows you to meet people you never normally would.  I love reading what’s going on in people’s minds, I don’t give a shit if you tell what you had for lunch, one day I might be interested and the another day I can just ignore it and scroll down.

Ultimately tough I like social interaction on any level, obviously real life is best. I have a knack for sussing people within five minutes of meeting them (some take longer but the Lotty force usually shines through) this is the reason why I love Big Brother; social interaction. Yes I know *rolls eyes* fluck off Lotty your thinking too deeply, no really it is. I watch it and I suss people/personalities out and watch how they rip each other up, look deeper than the gob, look at everything. Don’t get me wrong, yes it addictive trashy brain numbing entertainment but watch how the monkeys perform and act together in a confined space. Even today after it been rung out so many times like your swimming costume when you’re on holiday, look beyond the crap and look at the insecurities of people being forced to be socially interact with one another; it’s fascinating. Well I think so anyway, but I don’t go out much and I drink cooking sherry and watch big brother.  Don’t listen to this looser, she meets stranger off twitter and blogs complete crap whist sitting eating ginger biscuits.

There, you see you didn’t know that now did you…sometimes it’s good to share…share wisely but socially interact freely.

Until next time children xxx

Inside out pyjamas

Hello you people who can actually read, its Lotty's nonsense blog land again.

Funny old few days, friends will know what I mean, others will know I've been quiet..yes..that's when you know something is up with Lotty when she's quiet. Can't bloody stop me yapping on twitter as much as you can stop me winning a chocolate eating competition. Anyways digressing already, good start Lotty.

So tonight my boy went to bed in inside out pyjamas..my response; who give a fluck. I know people who would be calling social services at the thought..yes I really do know people like that..obviously not closely or anything, that would just be weird right?

We adopted my boy when he was 16 months, he's 4 now..I feel like he's been with us since I was in my twenties..after today I'm counting my blessings and he is one of them. My husband is one of the many others..without him I wouldn't have my boy, the two go together like left and right, Dempsey and Makepeace, egg and chips and wine on a Saturday night.

Its weird, I feel like I gave birth to him (my boy not my husband) we tried to have kids of our own, went for fertility stuff but when some one wanted to stick a needle up my you know what I said hold on a minute I'll think I'll get a kitten instead. Of course the old motherly instinct won the battle over the kitten (I mean basically they just meow, purr and shit right?) That's when one day, and I will never forget it for as long as I live adoption popped into my head. I was sat in bed one Monday morning and I remembered those Romanian babies on the news when I was a kid..I rang my husband and said "what do you think about adoption"...I was expecting a what the fuck is she on with now response..but he said..I love the idea..I think its great. So five minutes later I was researching the whole thing. From  that day it took, one house move and 3 years and our little one came to stay. Oh yes and zillion reports, checks, social worker visits but all of that shit was worth it.

Its strange I forget he's adopted, and whats even stranger is that I only remember when we are doing something lovely together...I always think..god what could your life have been and what a truly precious moment this is and I will hold in my heart until I am old and grey;it could be something at school that's hes achieved or something simply like dancing his heart out with me in the kitchen. His birth parents were drug addicts, from terrible homes. I hold nothing but empathy and sympathy for them I really do, they didn't choose to become addicts..who the fluck does. My son was born an addict and slept for the first three months of his life because his birth mum injected in her tummy when she was pregnant. Don't feel bitter towards her, I don't, she knew no better, she was never given love like most of us know love if we're lucky. If wasn't for her I wouldn't be a mummy. I have a few letters from her for my son when he is older and they will be more precious to him than gold and sometimes I just wish I could tell her he's OK and he's happy and he's a little sod and he sings to me and he's just so loving and kind and caring sometimes I could burst with pride. His eyes light up a room even though he can't see very well because something made them poorly...it might be genetics, it might have been the drugs but it doesn't matter because he can laugh and smile and play and learn and be part of this wonderful place that is the world.

I don't know to this day if I could ever conceive my own child, I don't need to know...its strange I'm a bossy control freak that likes to know everything, but the most personal thing about myself I have no yearning to know. If it ever happened I'd prob faint with shock...but really it doesn't matter to me because my son in mine, is ours. I teach him to share and to be kind and when not to talk about willies in public (ya know all good life stuff) I love him more than I ever thought I could anything in this world..just as a birth mother would and could if we ever got the chance.

So in the scale of things, when I see those children in Africa starving and sick and walking for week to get to a hospital that can offer them no help, it doesn't matter about the sad start to my sons life, it doesn't matter if his bedrooms a tip or his pyjamas are inside out; it matters he's loved - and boy he is that.

xxxx

Just like Tesco's?

Yowsers, what a day folks. I've been working on an arts festival day to celebrate an arts centres 10th birthday. I was involved in the setting up of it all that time ago working with a fabulous arts development team; all of which now are close friends and one very important member is sadly no longer with us.

Mixed emotions today because of that, if it wasn't for this particular guy the arts centre would never have happened, I wouldn't be where I am now and I would probably be working in Tesco's. Nothing wrong with that I know but people have always told me I'm artistically talented, I guess so, I never honestly really thought about it; I just do it and see what happens. Yes I studied for 6 years, but this guy taught me my trade if you will, gave me the vision and the confidence to make my ideas happen.....this believe me is priceless when your an artist, because lets face it, artists are better off dead, right?

When I was feeling sad today and thinking about this friend of mine who died when he was only 50 in his prime and with so much to live for...what happened? Well I began to smile, because he was a character, a man who had terrible loud taste in shirts but because of him, all of those people, families and kids wouldn't have enjoyed any of those things today if he hadn't been on this small planet for a short 50 years. Street performers, genius music mural painters, contortionist, graffiti artists, me with me little workshop. I was proud to know him and I know he was looking down with a horrific Hawaiian shirt on and smiling his big cheeky smile and saying 'Charlotte, your doing great, crack on love.'

I love my job, I am honoured and proud to be able to get paid to put my creative ideas into practice. Funny though; today I was mentoring a young girl, she must have been about 19 tops. Full circle I guess you call that, me showing her how to do workshops and look as if you know what your doing...basically I spent 6 hours showing her how to be confident and blag it (well maybe a bit more than that) oh yes, and of course to always locate the good coffee before you even set up.

I was surrounded today by at first glance a outing from the local funny farm, a goth/rock bloke compare contortionist from Newcastle who looked like he might jump you and take your bag..turned out to be one of the funniest guys I've ever met. I've met two guys from London, an animator and a music muralist who's creative talent and execution were worthy of a turner prize, a teenage transsexual with a heart of gold, two people who were, well actually gold, two big chickens made of pan scrubbers, a mosaic artist so far up her own arse she was talking shite and a bunch of other people wearing wigs walking about with white painted faces and fake moustaches! Yes I know..I'm really not making this shit up..this was my day...I wonder if you get that working in Tesco's....maybe you do, I'll have to pop round next Saturday and have a peek.

So that was my day, don't tell me, your was just the same...well in that case...the worlds bloody brilliant isn't it...lets rock its arse off and live forever..because we all do you know, which ever way we choose to leave our mark.

Big hugs all, thanks for reading xxxx

Finally

I said months ago I would post some of my art work..here's the link lovelies

www.flickr.com/photos/charlotteartist76

x Lotty

P.S - If you don't like it..that's okay..its art man..every ones not meant too! xx

Sea Breeze

Sea Breeze

Funny old land this Twitter malarkey, its a place where you speak to people everyday and you get to know them, their thoughts, feelings, emotions, humour, worries, fears and rants. I'm me on Twitter, but some times the dark side of me; the one no-one sees in the light of day or night, the one that rants and moans. In 'real life' I rarely moan, perhaps to a select few close friends and mum..but on twitter I can moan and not worry about making someone I love worry about me.

I absolutely sure my followers think I'm a nut case..it doesn't matter, I don't care, I'm me..twitter opened a door of fresh sea breeze that washes over me like a sharp cold morning air....one that was ajar for a little while and was screaming to be pushed open. Its my place of solice and comfort where no one knows me and can free fall as fast or as slow as I like.

The biggest thing I love about twitter is reading peoples thoughts..it makes me tick..I have an ocean of thoughts everyday and I'm bewildered to think where all mine went before twitter. People thoughts and minds are the essence of who we are and the picture just adds another dimension; whenever I meet someone I don't look at there body or clothes I look into their eyes and start talking...I like to know how peoples minds work, how there soul shines and how they see life. Peoples minds and hearts are a reflection of there true self and their soul; sometimes you get to see someones a little bit on twitter and its a priceless gift you won't find in any store.

So I guess I'll carry on reading peoples thoughts and sharing my own..ranting..being loony..sharing my day and hope I get to see a glimmer of some interesting and beautiful people like the ones I've seen so far.

Thanks twitter, thanks for giving me a place to store my thoughts and for opening the door and letting the beautiful sea breeze enter my life.

Until next time,

xx Lotty

Pfft

Why pffft? Well I've been doing a lot of it this week..(yes yes I know...ranting again...ssh we're bonding right..now let me get on) Life is treating me a little shit of late (as it does everyone I know) I hate to moan but I always do on here, so I'm rolling with it. My old grandad used to say 'don't let the bastards grind you down' well ama trying grandad - lets rock!

I had a fabulous workshop tonight with a group of older ladies doing something with paint and rollers and stuff, I love my job; no day is ever the same..I'm surrounded by tossers who obviously can't do anything as good as me (their speaks a classic Leo) so I do it myself. That's the control freak in me which is why I'm very well suited to self-employment, because if something is shit or goes wrong only me to blame (something else I'm good at.)

Well as yet, this blog is shite.....sorry...yes I know..still ranting..I think I sound a little arsey, I'm not I think it maybe tiredness kicking in and also that my brain is filled with a zillion work things I have to do in a space of a few hours tomorrow when my monkey son is at school (so get to bed your dufus) Pfft...there I go again...yes I'm pffting but still smiling, so that's OK on the Lotty ricktor scale of life.

Its been a while since I blogged...a lot has happened and now its talking stock time, sitting back and taking it all in, processing it and figuring it out....still looking for a book on how 'to do' life on Amazon but its a no go...see you think they sell everything! Pfft.

No more 'pfft' this week, to much to look forward to and to get me motivated via work oh and family and friends that make me feel loved...I'm a lucky Artist this Charlotte loony lady and I'm glad things happen in my life that make me a better person, however much they make me pfft...got to love this short life we have we're lucky to be living and breathing it eh.

Night night, until next time xx *big Lotty hugs*

Humble

Humble; not proud or not believing that you are important

Strange, I never knew the actual dictionary definition of humble was that, when I first read it I thought that can’t be right, it sounds negative. Not to be proud – feeling proud makes you feel good and warm inside right? Not believing you are important – well that’s just being a plain silly Billy talk but I guess the explanation is inverted in itself if you look hard enough.

I feel very humble tonight for various reasons, I use it in the context that I’m very lucky to be living and breathing all the good and the bad things that drive along Lotty Road and knock on number 2 Lotty’s house. I’m a true believer in that there is always someone with much worse situations and bigger problems than your own; so even when there is a dip in the road of the life that is Lotty’s I always think’ for fuck sake pull your head out your artistic arse and get on with it’ It usually works, I have a busy but very cushy life compared to most. In my work I meet a lot of moaners and I’m like the big fuck off fire hose on their flames of complaining; the best thing to do to a moaner is to smile and say something positive, it floors them completely; you can see the complex puzzled look on their face – try it, its great.

I guess it’s my optimism in full force, sickening I know and don’t get me wrong I love a good moan myself…that’s what twitter’s for isn’t it? It really is the place I only ever really moan, I’m sickeningly bright and chirpy most the time; only when I’m in a certain mood and get quiet time to myself I start thinking too much and get melancholy. I guess that’s therapeutic in itself and everyone needs that.

I rarely get bored though, hardly ever; but strangely when the social worker asked me recently (adoption social worker, I’m not in care or anything) what my hobbies where, I had to make some up on the spot (I don’t think she believed me when I said Olympic high jumper, not with these short arse legs anyway) I guess my hobby is my work, I’m blessed that way. So what keeps me amused? That’s easy, myself and my mind, my thoughts, my take on my life, on this life, on this precious life we have. My thoughts usually take me around the world and back again and then they happily curl up under a duvet and rest for hopefully at least six hours. My thoughts as everyone’s I suppose are similar, some complex, some simple, certain things grab my mind and fiddle with the workings like a child that just has to touch things in a shop. People I meet, things I see, sometimes even something I see every day and I start thinking about how it got there and how long it’s been there and how long will it be there when I’m not – see shit like that, your catching my drift now and probably falling asleep. I don’t blame you I bore myself sometimes. Maybe that should be my new hobby, helping people to sleep by writing endless tosh about the workings of my mind; I’ll ring the social worker tomorrow and get her to add it to the list.

Until next time kids; thanks for reading, oi…fucking wake up!!

Eternal Optomist

That will bloody teach me; a two hour snooze in the day now I'm wide a sodding awake! Ooooh starting with a rant, well 'how very me'. Actually I'm not in a ranting mood, maybe a little moan but feeling rather chirpy as it happens. No reason why, just am. Do I need a reason? Oh shut up Lotty and crack on.

Well this is one of those funny boggy things where I have started writing it and I've no idea what to write about but look at me go...Jesus its scary isn't it? The amount of drivel that can come from one persons mouth, or should that be fingers?

Annnyway...I was thinking today as I live with such a pessimistic git; does this make me even more a optimist or make me go the other way. I'm not sure, I guess over the years we've both dabbled a bit in each others but recently it seems the optimist is shining through in me (thank god!) The more miserable and pessimistic he is, the more optimistic I'm, don't get me wrong sometimes it like putting a forest fire out with a damp sponge but Christ why do pessimists have to be so bloody miserable? I guess its there nature, his whole family are like it..as I'm in my new 'Me' phase as I like to call it.....I'm getting rather intolerant of it.....I've told him, not made a blind bit of difference like, but at least I'm honest eh?

Oooooh I'm getting into full ranting mode...I'll stop that its not a 'I hate my husband blog' more of a 'oh yes he's thoughtless twat'...oops there I go again, right stopping now!

Flowers are beautiful aren't they...my garden is blooming, not really into gardening, more a creative director on that front. Roses, but particularly pansy's...they're like little smiley faces all over (helps with the optimism that.) I'm the kind of person that when I'm doing something simple, like riding on a bus or walking on the school run I notice everything (could be noisiness) but I do...does everyone do that? Or just me arty farty type?

I love spring time the best all those little joyous flowers hiding under the ground just waiting to play peepo with us. Like little angels waiting to pop and give us a smile - lovely.

I'm stopping now as may start to think about space, science and the meaning of the world and I really should be thinking sleepy thoughts and at least lovely dreams. Oh god so much to figure out, so little time...so here's to a good sleep. There's nothing like it for tackling the world eh folks?

Well from a nothing blog, I've covered thoughtless said husband,flowers and spring....another load of tosh shared with a few. Apologies....must try and be more interesting...oh I wouldn't know where to start, I guess I'll just keep being me in this life and see what happens eh?

Nighty night, until next time xx

The beauty of a sleeping child

I 'was' having a lovely day, a rare afternoon of immersing myself in my studio (not doing my own work sadly) but doing daft prep for workshops; not exactly 'down pit' so you'll hear no grumbling from me, despite now having a right hand swelled to the size of Peru, I love it in there on my own.

It's my own world where no one can get to me, it could be on another planet really. It makes me loose myself a bit, oh that's sounds so shit and oh so arty..pfft hate that, but actually it does. It allows me to immerse myself in life, work and my thoughts, in me I suppose, I have no hat on in there other than Charlotte.

On the down side it can give me a bit too much thinking time while I'm cutting up cardboard the thickness of 70's platform shoe. Again no bad thing, it gives me time to take stock and breathe for a while; I know not many people can do that, I know I'm lucky. I actually like my own company (oh how self fucking centered is she I hear you cry) well not at all actually, I guess I never get bored of my own mind and I love and need my own time to myself like this afternoon.

As everything in life when something's lovely, something has to come along and tip the balance. No nothing terrible; when I say nothing terrible I mean bottom line stuff as in no one is ill. What ever I face in life that's always my bottom line with me, as everyone I suppose. I'm a very outwardly calm person (with a brain like Road Runner) and I have an endless supply of patience (except maybe when it comes to my son.) I guess I'm good in a crisis, thankfully daily I don't have to face many of those; I live a cushy life really. I meet a lot of people through my work that don't; people who have mental health problems, addictions, self confidence issues and suffer real real poverty I could go on but I won't, I'll depress myself.

I guess that why I'm not a moaner; I shut up and get on with it and think about it later. You never guess that though hearing me on twitter you'd think just the opposite, it seems though with recent home stuff twitter is my place of rant - no bad thing admittedly as someone tweeted me the other day 'rant away' - er OK permission granted then.

Its a place no one can really hear me (as this bloggy thing is really) and I can be a complete tit and not give a shit about sounding like a wallywoo; I love it because of that, oh yes and the fact you can nosey the hell out of other people lives. I'm intrigued as what the hell I did before twitter with all my rants and nonsense thoughts - its a little bit like someone opening a door at the back of my brain and everything spilling out but not making a mess on the carpet. (god I talk shit don't I? I blame the painkillers myself.)

So the result of the loveliness being interrupted this evening by a air of stress, anger and fuck knows what? Well that will be a quiet night in the house, so quiet its deafening, so quiet I don't even want to nosey in on twitter. I'm not sad or pissed off or anything else, I'm just here at the moment and I ended up writing this shit...who knows what tomorrow will bring?

I'm going to go watch my son sleep in a minute, because that's incredibly calming,lovely and emotional. I don't do it very often but when I do it fill the gaps in my mind, makes me smile and able to breath slowly again. Before I know it he'll be 6ft, spotty and telling me to piss off, so I know I must cherish this time when I can go sit next to him and find him amongst the mountains of soft toys he never had in the first part of his little life.

I will never forget for as long as I live the pure beauty of my child sleeping I am truly blessed to call him my son - I love him with entirety of my heart now and always.

I've got to go now because my right hand has packed up and I'm having to type with my nose and I keep banging my head and its giving me a headache.

Bye for now, until the next load of drivel eh?

Thanks for reading x x

Normal?

Phew what a few days...beautiful 4th birthday memories mixed with torment, continuing sibling argument and attitudes, a zillion heated texts and phone calls ending in a rather serene moment of calm with my beautiful son playing in my garden with his two beautiful cousins - a moment that filled my heart with joy. Contrasts or what?

Just another 'normal' family birthday then - pfft. As a very close friend pointed out "no family occasion would be complete without an argument" so true, thing is when its happening it feels like your the only one having to deal with it and this weekend it really was make or break.

I nearly came to shutting my bro and his family out of my life completely (not something I would do lightly, its been festering for a couple of years now.) Scary shit though - no one does that in my family, we always work it out, but sometimes the hurt cuts so deep I coil like a frightened hedgehog, to protect myself and put me first (something new I'm doing, since a change in my life since last October - its refreshing and rather lovely!)

Sorry I'm being rather serious, I guess this is cathartic; bare with me, I'll shut up soon.

Normal...ahhhh well that's one thing I have never been, never intend to be or would ever seek out. Who wants to be 'normal' to me it just means mundane, samey, a suit, an ant.  My mum always said and still does to this day; if she wants me to do something she asks me to the do the opposite; funny thing she is just the same. I think this a nice way of saying I'm a stubborn little bugger, (she's spot on, but don't tell her she'll gloatt) she's always been sensitive and kind; hopefully something I also inherited from her.

I'm interested in the realms of what being 'normal' actually is, surely everyone is normal? If something feels right and you want to do it in life then that's normal right? I'm the kind of person friends always come to with problems,  (stop laughing, yes I can be sensible and give sound advice) but the most thing I always say and the most important is to be yourself, always, no matter what - its the only thing you truly ever have that belongs to you and surly that what makes you 'normal' in your little world.

My problem is I always put other people first and its easy for everyone to get lost in being a title rather than a person, but the person looks you in the mirror everyday not the title, right?

One of the zillion things I find fascinating about life and people is someones actions can seem so wrong to one person but so so right to another. I have two brothers, one lives down the road, one 150 miles away. I speak and see the one that's furthest away more than the one ten minutes away. This saddens me deeply and there are many many reasons for this of which I won't bore you; there simply aren't enough words or emotions and its something that I'm slowly learning to live with.

Its amazing to me that me and my brothers were brought up all the same, all equals and given the opportunity to be whoever we wanted to be (a basic human right me thinks) but we have all become so different and so similar in so many ways. Yes, we meet partners and grow and become different people but the essence, values and core of what we are stems from family values.

I guess this is why being a parent is the hardest thing in the world, but that's also where I put into practice full force everyday 'doing the right thing at the time.' Its working so far but I'm open to  change anytime.

I've no idea why I'm sharing these thoughts, do you need a reason in a blog? I never read the small print. Oh well like I said its been a roller coaster of a few days and I suppose this helps me to make sense of it all, although it may not seem like it reading this! *taxi for Lotty, first class to the loony bin*

Apologies if I have bored you rigid...I suppose you could have just stopped reading I mean no one forced you, have some self control people please!

Right I'm going to do something useful now.....a spot of catching up on work emails, then I'm off to the funfair that's in town with my family.....I might try and squeeze myself into a black Lycra cat suit and prance around like Olivia Newton-John in Grease...surely that's not normal? Whoopee bring it on!

Bye for now...until the next few thoughts (you have been warned) xx

A Spec of an Artist

Funny old week; its Wednesday afternoon and I have exactly 45 minutes before my peace is broken i.e until my son comes back from school (I say school I mean nursery but if we call it school he thinks he's a big boy) Urgh I hate waiting with all the other mums and dads at the school gate..how did I get from being 'Just Charlotte' to 'Charlotte the mummy'? I've no idea, I always thought I'd lap up chatting to the other parents..oh no..not me.

Its a funny old thing the playground; a bit like a load of ants waiting to pounce on a meal. People shy away from looking at you as if to say, don't look at me...don't talk to me..why? I'm the type of person who always gives people a smile, it seems to particularly  unnerve the other ants..so I do it more (I'm like that) more of a reflection of them really I suppose but its sad really isn't it?

So when my 'mummy' hats off I'll be down to being an artist again...well I say artist. I think all of you are thinking I fanny around in a studio everyday with a smock and funny french hat with and paint brushes hanging out of my pocket. Well not this one, if I can grab an hour in my studio (ahem...I say studio actually it's big blue shed at the bottom of the garden mainly full of crap but also a load of shiny things and more paint than B+Q.) Where was I? Oh yes if I do get a moment in there (not sorting out all the crap) recently I've actually been doing some of my own work- result!

Its been a long time, about 5 years; actually it seems something ignited me recently; a mixture of a few things, I realised just how drawing and painting can be an expression of whats going on in my mind. Scary as my mind wonders terribly, did anyone watch Eastenders the other night? Oh shit there it goes again.

My works mainly abstract but if you look close enough you can see little teasers of what its really about; its like taking a photograph but only showing a slight spec of it, you get a taster but actually you've no idea what the picture is and your really just looking to see if its pretty or not.

Its fab I love it, it keeps me alive and kicking and I'd really forgotten that buzz I get from doing it. Its like having a fag behind the bike sheds when you were at school (although I never did I was a good girl) a pure moment of self indulgence and free falling.

Everyone always says they can't draw; to enjoy producing art you don't have to (although 6 years training I think I'm allowed to say I can) you just have to be able to let yourself go and not worry about the end result, if looks ok when you done then its a bonus, if not? Well then that's what the bins for isn't? I never throw anything away though, I am an artist version of a hoarder or those weird people who keep there wee in bottles...did you see that documentary? What  the bejezus what that about? Anyway I digress, you'll get used to that people. I suppose because every drawing, sketch or word I write is a little piece of me I can't throw it away and usually they always end up as being part of something.

So I'll sush now as I now have exactly 14 minutes until 'mummy hats' on again and I need to go and give those other ants a right good Lotty smile. I'll post some specs of my mind soon...I don't think there pretty but I think they are precious, so that will do me kids.

Bye for now x

Early Morning Sounds

I love them, they are like air to me; insomnia strikes, has struck, I have been stricken. Its happened a lot recently so I get up and go sit in my office, open the window and listen. Its beautiful, I love every single sound; the birds, cars but its the air that's the loudest. Its like the world breathing and it clears my head....it takes me back to being a little girl.

My dad was always up super early and I was too, I used to jump around him and make him sandwiches for his lunch. They must have been vile; I'm sure once there was a jam and dairylea incident, he must have binned them at work but he was and still is a good daddy so he always smiled and took them.
I'm sure he wished I was in bed but I remember, even being so little thinking this is my very special time with daddy because I got him all to myself. It was best when it was the summer and you could almost feel the heat in the cold of the air of the morning. Funny how when your a child you wake up with happiness every morning, most of the time I'm still the same but then growing up (on the inside) never was my strong point.

I just decided my bloggy thing will be my insomnia friend, no doubt we will see each other through some good and bad stuff but that's whats life's all about isn't it? Feeling the sadness so we can know how the happiness feels.....oh it sounds so lame but its true, I bet half of you have stopped reading already or gone and put a pillow over your face.
Well another thing I just decided, my bloggy doodar thing wotsit will be written as if I'm talking to myself (yes yes I know people get locked up for worse) but don't we all talk to our self with our thoughts, all day? No? Well that's just me then.
Ok relax people! You will get used to me talking shit and if you don't well then piss off its been nice knowing you! Er note to self - know how to work a crowd of bloggy readery people you loon, don't tell em to piss off in your second bloggy thing. *Noted

Where was I? Oh yes...when I'm listening to the early morning sounds I get ideas, thoughts, emotions and images in my head. I've written down about 20 already, most of them will be in the bin; it doesn't matter they are my thoughts and I own full rights to them.

I guess that's whats scary about a bloggy....god who the hell gets scared of a blog? Well this Artist named Charlotte does because my mind is my most powerful weapon, I always used to think what happens if my hands ever get damaged and I can't draw or write in one of my zillion notebooks and sketch pads I have everywhere cluttering up the place..all like little friends with thoughts from different stages in my life...now I realise actually I should'nt have been worrying about my hands it was and is my brain that will I will cut myself with one day.

Worrying well there's another hobby of mine, the majority of the time I am a non committed worrier...what does this mean? Well its means all kinds of worries pass through my brain every hour, but most of them just keep on walking and don't pause to sit and admire the view. This is a blessing or they may actually have to carry me away.

Yesterday I had no idea what to write but the early morning sounds have left me with a passion for talking a load of crap on here and you know what? Actually I kinda like it already.

If no one reads this, if everyone reads this then I'm happy. I apologise now for the somewhat erratic train of thoughts...what can I say I'm just me and I'm happy with it, believe it or not this is normal for me; yes people be afraid be very afraid! *evil laugh*

Ok people are walking outside, the rule is the early morning bliss had ended.

Bye for now

x Charlotte

Short and Sweet

Hello whoever you are reading this,

This is my first bloggy thing, yes short and sweet as suddenly I feel very self conscious of what I'm writing. I'm sure this will pass and you won't be able to shut me up; I am partial to a bit of rambling, nonsense and general talking a load of crap.

Watch this space people!

x Charlotte