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!!