September 2007 Archives
No wonder I feel like a mad hatter at times...
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From an article called "The History of Domestic Violence", by Glasgow Woman's Aid, 1992:
"He [a temperance preacher in Glasgow at the turn of the century] announced to his congregation the fact that there was a wife-beater in their midst, denounced him as a scoundrel and a rascal, lectured them on this particular sin and threatened to name the man if he failed to put a ten shilling note in the collection plate when it was passed round. From his working class congregation the Preacher got a plate piled high with notes and a temporary cessation of domestic violence."
I'm guessing that the class of the congregation is pointed out to emphasise how much ten shillings would be a large sum of money to them, not that working class men in the late 19th/early 20th century were all guilty of domestic violence. Middle and upper class men are more than capable of it too. And in the 21st century, too.
I have another copy of a different article, this one about the men who abuse their children and the reasons they give for it to excuse themselves, Working With Incest Offenders: Excuses, Excuse, Excuses by Rich Snowdon. I can't say enough good things about it, though I'm not going to begin now as my head's all fuddled and I'm a bit tired. And I'm starting to think that all men have the making of a monster in them, which they do. I just need to remember that most men can control that monster and don't do these things and the very thought of it would horrify them. So I'll stop banging that drum for today.
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For the first time that I can remember, I can do up my belt to the last notch. The next time I go buy jeans, they might have to be size 12. That said, it's far more likely that I'll spend my money on books and CDs and shoes instead, and just look a little odd with an excess of fabric folded up under my belt.
In Pilf's Friday meme, that I pilfered (see what I did there?), I said that I wanted to learn to tap dance. That is sort of true, but I'd much rather learn to play the cello. Even if I could only play the cello part of Cello Song by VAST, I'd be more than happy. There's something about it that grabs me by the heart and squeezes. In a good way, not the bad cholesterol way. To sound all dippy for a moment (ok, it won't be paricularly noticable), the cello sounds like my soul. If it was a musical instrument. Oh, and download Cello Song. Or, indeed, anything by VAST. It's music that more people should know about.
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From an article called "The History of Domestic Violence", by Glasgow Woman's Aid, 1992:
"He [a temperance preacher in Glasgow at the turn of the century] announced to his congregation the fact that there was a wife-beater in their midst, denounced him as a scoundrel and a rascal, lectured them on this particular sin and threatened to name the man if he failed to put a ten shilling note in the collection plate when it was passed round. From his working class congregation the Preacher got a plate piled high with notes and a temporary cessation of domestic violence."
I'm guessing that the class of the congregation is pointed out to emphasise how much ten shillings would be a large sum of money to them, not that working class men in the late 19th/early 20th century were all guilty of domestic violence. Middle and upper class men are more than capable of it too. And in the 21st century, too.
I have another copy of a different article, this one about the men who abuse their children and the reasons they give for it to excuse themselves, Working With Incest Offenders: Excuses, Excuse, Excuses by Rich Snowdon. I can't say enough good things about it, though I'm not going to begin now as my head's all fuddled and I'm a bit tired. And I'm starting to think that all men have the making of a monster in them, which they do. I just need to remember that most men can control that monster and don't do these things and the very thought of it would horrify them. So I'll stop banging that drum for today.
---
For the first time that I can remember, I can do up my belt to the last notch. The next time I go buy jeans, they might have to be size 12. That said, it's far more likely that I'll spend my money on books and CDs and shoes instead, and just look a little odd with an excess of fabric folded up under my belt.
In Pilf's Friday meme, that I pilfered (see what I did there?), I said that I wanted to learn to tap dance. That is sort of true, but I'd much rather learn to play the cello. Even if I could only play the cello part of Cello Song by VAST, I'd be more than happy. There's something about it that grabs me by the heart and squeezes. In a good way, not the bad cholesterol way. To sound all dippy for a moment (ok, it won't be paricularly noticable), the cello sounds like my soul. If it was a musical instrument. Oh, and download Cello Song. Or, indeed, anything by VAST. It's music that more people should know about.
Note: This is a new kind of online protest that uses blogs to spread a petition globally. To participate, just add your blog by following the instructions in this blog post. This not an issue of partisan politics, this is an issue of basic human rights and democracy. Please help to prevent a human tragedy in Burma by adding your blog and asking others to do the same. By passing this meme on through the blogosphere hopefully we can generate more awareness and avert a serious tragedy. As concerned world-citizens this something we bloggers can do to help.
How to participate:
1. Copy this entire post to your blog, including this special number: 1081081081234
2. After a few days, you can search Google for the number 1081081081234 to find all blogs that are participating in this protest and petition. Note: Google indexes blogs at different rates, so it could take longer for your blog to show up in the results. Also note -- if you want an accurate count of the number of blogs that joined this petition, make sure you scroll to the bottom of the Google results and click to view results that were omitted because they were similar.
3. If you know how to add tags to your blog posts, add the Technorati tag 1081081081234 to your post as well. This will make your post findable sooner in Technorati.
THE SITUATION IN BURMA AND WHY IT MATTERS TO ALL OF US
There is no press freedom in Burma and the government has started turning off the Internet and other means of communication, so it is difficult to get news out. Individuals on the ground have been sending their day-by-day reports to the BBC, and they are heartbreaking. I encourage you to read these accounts to see for yourself what is really going on in Burma. Please include this link in your own blog post.
The situation in Burma is increasingly dangerous. Hundreds of thousands of unarmed peaceful protesters, including monks and nuns, are risking their lives to march for democracy against an unpopular but well-armed military dictatorship that will stop at nothing to continue its repressive rule. While the generals in power and their families are literally dripping in gold and diamonds, the people of Burma are impoverished, deprived of basic human rights, cut off from the rest of the world, and increasingly under threat of violence.
This week the people of Burma have risen up collectively in the largest public demonstrations against the ruling Junta in decades. It's an amazing show of bravery, decency, and democracy in action. But although these protests are peaceful, the military rulers are starting to crack down with violence. Already there have been at least several reported deaths, and hundreds of critical injuries from soldiers beating unarmed civilians to the point of death.
The actual fatalities and injuries are probably far worse, but the only news we have is coming from individuals who are sneaking reports past the authorities. Unfortunately it looks like a large-scale blood-bath may ensue -- and the victims will be mostly women, children, the elderly and unarmed monks and nuns.
Contrary to what the Burmese, Chinese and Russian governments have stated, this is not merely a local internal political issue, it is an issue of global importance and it affects the global community. As concerned citizens, we cannot allow any government anywhere in the world to use its military to attack and kill peacefully demonstrating, unarmed citizens.
In this modern day and age violence against unarmed civilians is unacceptable and if it is allowed to happen, without serious consequences for the perpetrators, it creates a precedent for it to happen again somewhere else. If we want a more peaceful world, it is up to each of us to make a personal stand on these fundamental issues whenever they arise.
Please join me in calling on the Burmese government to negotiate peacefully with its citizens, and on China to intervene to prevent further violence. And please help to raise awareness of the developing situation in Burma so that hopefully we can avert a large-scale human disaster there.
How to participate:
1. Copy this entire post to your blog, including this special number: 1081081081234
2. After a few days, you can search Google for the number 1081081081234 to find all blogs that are participating in this protest and petition. Note: Google indexes blogs at different rates, so it could take longer for your blog to show up in the results. Also note -- if you want an accurate count of the number of blogs that joined this petition, make sure you scroll to the bottom of the Google results and click to view results that were omitted because they were similar.
3. If you know how to add tags to your blog posts, add the Technorati tag 1081081081234 to your post as well. This will make your post findable sooner in Technorati.
THE SITUATION IN BURMA AND WHY IT MATTERS TO ALL OF US
There is no press freedom in Burma and the government has started turning off the Internet and other means of communication, so it is difficult to get news out. Individuals on the ground have been sending their day-by-day reports to the BBC, and they are heartbreaking. I encourage you to read these accounts to see for yourself what is really going on in Burma. Please include this link in your own blog post.
The situation in Burma is increasingly dangerous. Hundreds of thousands of unarmed peaceful protesters, including monks and nuns, are risking their lives to march for democracy against an unpopular but well-armed military dictatorship that will stop at nothing to continue its repressive rule. While the generals in power and their families are literally dripping in gold and diamonds, the people of Burma are impoverished, deprived of basic human rights, cut off from the rest of the world, and increasingly under threat of violence.
This week the people of Burma have risen up collectively in the largest public demonstrations against the ruling Junta in decades. It's an amazing show of bravery, decency, and democracy in action. But although these protests are peaceful, the military rulers are starting to crack down with violence. Already there have been at least several reported deaths, and hundreds of critical injuries from soldiers beating unarmed civilians to the point of death.
The actual fatalities and injuries are probably far worse, but the only news we have is coming from individuals who are sneaking reports past the authorities. Unfortunately it looks like a large-scale blood-bath may ensue -- and the victims will be mostly women, children, the elderly and unarmed monks and nuns.
Contrary to what the Burmese, Chinese and Russian governments have stated, this is not merely a local internal political issue, it is an issue of global importance and it affects the global community. As concerned citizens, we cannot allow any government anywhere in the world to use its military to attack and kill peacefully demonstrating, unarmed citizens.
In this modern day and age violence against unarmed civilians is unacceptable and if it is allowed to happen, without serious consequences for the perpetrators, it creates a precedent for it to happen again somewhere else. If we want a more peaceful world, it is up to each of us to make a personal stand on these fundamental issues whenever they arise.
Please join me in calling on the Burmese government to negotiate peacefully with its citizens, and on China to intervene to prevent further violence. And please help to raise awareness of the developing situation in Burma so that hopefully we can avert a large-scale human disaster there.
Don't I look cheerful? And, please, no commenting on the belusha beacon where my nose usually is.
How pretty is the scarf? It's not showing up so well, but trust me on this. It's soft and fluffy and incredibly long. Like loo roll for your neck. Also, look closely; you might see the evidence of one of my near-obsessive habits (one of my 7 traits). I have coordinated my eye makeup with the colour of the sparkly bits of the scarf. And yes, also wearing matching underwear (though not blue or black) but you will just have to take my word on that as it's not often I'll post a photo of myself, so even less likely I'll ever post a photo of my underwear. As for a photo of me in my underwear... well, I'll be getting declarations of undying and eternal love from Neil well before that. Actually, no. Given the likihood of that, the racy photos are more likely. It could happen somehow, in radically weird circumstances involving the death of the human race and the prevention thereof. As in; all humanity will die if you don't post a photo of yourself in your underwear on your blog. Contact from Neil? Never going to happen.
Bah. And I was doing so well not thinking about those things, too. I'm going to go beat my head off a wall until I stop thinking about him now. I may be some time.
YouTube lives up to it's name. I watched the video for Perfect. I was going to post it to here, as I love it as a visual thing alone and love the song as well, and I love the idea of it being a follow on to 1979, and the self-reference of the tape on the roof of the car and the jump cut to the burger and that Billy wasn't quite himself for a couple of days after being up on the crane (I feel for him on that one, I really do) but after logging in, it claimed that I didn't have the right plug-in. Despite having just watched it fine.
So. Go to http://www.youtube.com/ and enter 'smashing pumpkins perfect' in the search box. Press enter or click on 'search'. Watch. It's the best broken-up and moving on song ever. Though Billy's choice of hat is dubious.
So. Go to http://www.youtube.com/ and enter 'smashing pumpkins perfect' in the search box. Press enter or click on 'search'. Watch. It's the best broken-up and moving on song ever. Though Billy's choice of hat is dubious.
1. How different is your speech pattern among your friends versus a stranger you’d meet on the street?
I swear more, and tend to be far more sincere with friends. Strangers get either the neutral tone or the slightly dry, sarcastic tone. That said, I don't swear much these days. And I talk faster with friends. And when I say fast, I mean fast. But not all the time.
2. How often do you get asked where you’re from based on your accent?
Not very much. I must sound Scottish enough for most folks. Some people do ask, because I don't have the local accent (and in Dundee, I'm quite glad of that; twa bridies an' an ingin ane in aw' and I've been nice and put in spaces where there are none) so they get the Glasgow- Stirling-Dundee-Glasgow-but-my-parents-are-from-Perth-and-the-Borders story and wish they hadn't. A German English teacher once told me that I didn't have an accent at all, I still don't know if that was complimentary or wildly insulting.
3. What word or phrase said by newscasters is your biggest pet peeve?
Make yourself comfy, go have a wee, get a coffee... "the end of the day", "there's nothing worse than..." because there's always something worse, like terminal cancer or the apocolypse or being shot at or the things that go on in war that are just accepted as part of the horror (can you guess what I'm referring to there?), people who use words that they think sound good but don't actually mean what they want it to, people who mispronounce words (if I hear 'pacifically' once more on Radio 4 in the news I will be sending an email in green ink) and anything that's got shades of the Sun to it (heliotic, if you will) as I hate, hate, hate attempts to influence the understanding of the facts. Also, statements that make no sense, for example, 'you couldn't get further north than the Orkneys, unless you went to the Shetlands, and still be in the UK.' In other words, 'we're going to talk about a place that the majority of our viewers aren't even aware of so, we'll give you a hint that not only is this place in the UK, where you live, and it's far, far away. But still in your home country.' There's a reason that I only watch the Channel 4 news and am developing a soft spot for Eddie Mair...
4. How often do you look up a word in a dictionary, either online or print?
Not very much. Only if I can't work out what the word means. I did Latin, so can often work out the root. (Also, I'm fantastically brainy.) Otherwise, I'll try to work it out from the context. If I'm still stumped, then I'll go look it up. But, as I'm so fantastically brainy when it comes to linguistics, I can't remember where my dictionary is.
5. How many books or guides on grammar do you currently own?
I have a copy of Eats, Shoots and Leaves somewhere. Probably with my dictionary. Other than that... I must've had a good English teacher, as I'm generally pretty good with grammar. If a little comma-heavy at times. I punctuate as if I'm talking, so you can tell when I've got a cold and am feeling somewhat breathless.
Do you have the Bee Gees/Boyzone in your head now?
Yes - my work here is done.
No - how did you manage that? Seriously, I'd like to know as I have it stuck in my head.
I swear more, and tend to be far more sincere with friends. Strangers get either the neutral tone or the slightly dry, sarcastic tone. That said, I don't swear much these days. And I talk faster with friends. And when I say fast, I mean fast. But not all the time.
2. How often do you get asked where you’re from based on your accent?
Not very much. I must sound Scottish enough for most folks. Some people do ask, because I don't have the local accent (and in Dundee, I'm quite glad of that; twa bridies an' an ingin ane in aw' and I've been nice and put in spaces where there are none) so they get the Glasgow- Stirling-Dundee-Glasgow-but-my-parents-are-from-Perth-and-the-Borders story and wish they hadn't. A German English teacher once told me that I didn't have an accent at all, I still don't know if that was complimentary or wildly insulting.
3. What word or phrase said by newscasters is your biggest pet peeve?
Make yourself comfy, go have a wee, get a coffee... "the end of the day", "there's nothing worse than..." because there's always something worse, like terminal cancer or the apocolypse or being shot at or the things that go on in war that are just accepted as part of the horror (can you guess what I'm referring to there?), people who use words that they think sound good but don't actually mean what they want it to, people who mispronounce words (if I hear 'pacifically' once more on Radio 4 in the news I will be sending an email in green ink) and anything that's got shades of the Sun to it (heliotic, if you will) as I hate, hate, hate attempts to influence the understanding of the facts. Also, statements that make no sense, for example, 'you couldn't get further north than the Orkneys, unless you went to the Shetlands, and still be in the UK.' In other words, 'we're going to talk about a place that the majority of our viewers aren't even aware of so, we'll give you a hint that not only is this place in the UK, where you live, and it's far, far away. But still in your home country.' There's a reason that I only watch the Channel 4 news and am developing a soft spot for Eddie Mair...
4. How often do you look up a word in a dictionary, either online or print?
Not very much. Only if I can't work out what the word means. I did Latin, so can often work out the root. (Also, I'm fantastically brainy.) Otherwise, I'll try to work it out from the context. If I'm still stumped, then I'll go look it up. But, as I'm so fantastically brainy when it comes to linguistics, I can't remember where my dictionary is.
5. How many books or guides on grammar do you currently own?
I have a copy of Eats, Shoots and Leaves somewhere. Probably with my dictionary. Other than that... I must've had a good English teacher, as I'm generally pretty good with grammar. If a little comma-heavy at times. I punctuate as if I'm talking, so you can tell when I've got a cold and am feeling somewhat breathless.
Do you have the Bee Gees/Boyzone in your head now?
Yes - my work here is done.
No - how did you manage that? Seriously, I'd like to know as I have it stuck in my head.
Leave your offerings at the door, I hear prayers between 1pm and 6.30, Monday through Thursday, every other Friday by arrangement and the third Saturday of every month. Sunday's are my day of rest, so beat it and leave me alone!
As I've mentioned previously, I have an interest in numerology. My day number is 7, as my birth day is the 16th. I was expecting this new book to be much the same as Zillionz (my 'big' book of numerology) mostly because it's by the same author. Making an ass out of you and me, there... I haven't read much of it yet, as it arrived while I was out and I only got home about an hour and a half ago, and had to eat in the midst of that. I feel a little like the book is reading me... Though the suggestion that I should use a name incorporating the letters G, P and Y leaves me a little nonplussed. I'm not sure I want to be known as Pyg. Or Gyp.
Anyway. I've had a long day, I'm quite tired and I've the rest of this book to read and I need another wee. All petitions must be registered with the temple within 24 hours of lighting your incense, make sure you've got your receipt in the case of any dissatisfaction. If, having heard your petition, I decide for whatever reason (which may include but is not an exhaustive list; it makes my hair go fluffy, the stain won't come out without dry-cleaning, you're just being petty, selfish, lazy or d: all the above) to not grant your prayer, the offering is non-returnable and my decision is final.
Oh my me, check the power trip..
As I've mentioned previously, I have an interest in numerology. My day number is 7, as my birth day is the 16th. I was expecting this new book to be much the same as Zillionz (my 'big' book of numerology) mostly because it's by the same author. Making an ass out of you and me, there... I haven't read much of it yet, as it arrived while I was out and I only got home about an hour and a half ago, and had to eat in the midst of that. I feel a little like the book is reading me... Though the suggestion that I should use a name incorporating the letters G, P and Y leaves me a little nonplussed. I'm not sure I want to be known as Pyg. Or Gyp.
Anyway. I've had a long day, I'm quite tired and I've the rest of this book to read and I need another wee. All petitions must be registered with the temple within 24 hours of lighting your incense, make sure you've got your receipt in the case of any dissatisfaction. If, having heard your petition, I decide for whatever reason (which may include but is not an exhaustive list; it makes my hair go fluffy, the stain won't come out without dry-cleaning, you're just being petty, selfish, lazy or d: all the above) to not grant your prayer, the offering is non-returnable and my decision is final.
Oh my me, check the power trip..
Friday Five of Four
1. Things next to your bed:
As my room is so ridiculously messy just now (so much so that Mum is wheeling out far more sophistocated threats than she ever did 10 years ago), I'll cherry-pick the best...
2. Things you would like to have, regardless of cost:
1. Things next to your bed:
As my room is so ridiculously messy just now (so much so that Mum is wheeling out far more sophistocated threats than she ever did 10 years ago), I'll cherry-pick the best...
- A half-eaten bag of chocolate-covered Lebkuchen (half-eaten because my throat hurts so much I can barely swallow anything more solid than tea.)
- A stack of half-read books, most of which are lying open and face down, on top of each other.
- My entire CD collection which is technically under the bed
- My fortune cards, which keep telling me that the person in whom I'm interested reciprocates. Pilf, I'm starting to think the messages I'm getting are for you, especially as I have no plans to take any trips any time soon.
2. Things you would like to have, regardless of cost:
- My dream home; lots of high ceilings and big windows, the mood tiles in the shower (which would be one of those 12 jet surround showers), a bath big enough that I'd never have cold knees again, a room entirely decorated in fairy lights, a purple velvet sofa that you'd need help to climb back out off that I could lie down on without my head or feet having to rest on the armrest, and a room for shoes.
- The starry tattoo going from my foot to my ear.
- Lots and lots of shoes.
- My own nightclub/venue. I'd call it Woom and the door would be a red velvet archway... yes, I've thought about that some.
3. Things you wish you hadn’t done:
- Taken out my lip ring.
- Sent a stupid email about a month ago when I wasn't thinking straight.
- Sent a stupid text message a year or so ago, though it did have it's benefits for someone else...
- Stayed in Dundee as long as I did.
- To play the bass. Properly.
- The points of the compass. I'm fine with North and South, but always have to go through the 'never eat shredded wheat' thing when I'm trying to figure out East and West. Always.
- How to tap dance.
- How to fly a plane.
5. Websites that you like to shop at:
- eBay
- Amazon marketplace
- Funkefeet
- Slash 'n' Burn (findcoolclothes.com)
Those last two, it's more a case of the online equivalent of 'window-licking' (monitor licking?) than 'shopping'.
Amazon keep emailing me. Because I've looked at and bought CDs, that means I'd like James Blunt's new album. Oh, hello. Do you see the CDs I'm buying and adding to my wishlist? They all contain good music, not bland, insipid, whiny ballady-bollocks. Coldplay do not feature in my musical landscape. Just because lots of people buy it, doesn't make it good. Call it my McDonald's approach to life.
Equally, just because I've added some comedy DVDs to my wishlist and bought Like Water For Chocolate several months ago, back when I wasn't so wildly embittered about relationships and bleak in my outlook, do not email me offering me up to 70% off romantic comedy DVDs. In the romantic comedy life of my life, I seem to have stuck at the Love Stinks scene in The Wedding Singer. There, the script stops. Credits roll, throw your popcorn, go home. I do not want to watch films where the male and female lead end up together and there the story ends. It's bullshit, life is not like that and I do NOT want to see another romantic 'comedy' as long as I live. Clear?
Go about your business, nothing to see here...
Equally, just because I've added some comedy DVDs to my wishlist and bought Like Water For Chocolate several months ago, back when I wasn't so wildly embittered about relationships and bleak in my outlook, do not email me offering me up to 70% off romantic comedy DVDs. In the romantic comedy life of my life, I seem to have stuck at the Love Stinks scene in The Wedding Singer. There, the script stops. Credits roll, throw your popcorn, go home. I do not want to watch films where the male and female lead end up together and there the story ends. It's bullshit, life is not like that and I do NOT want to see another romantic 'comedy' as long as I live. Clear?
Go about your business, nothing to see here...
Today, I shall mostly yell at myself. I keep catching myself thinking things that I shouldn't think, because that way lies madness and hurt. Mentally, I'm like a badly behaved toddler. It's going to be a long day.
The highlights of last night's dreams include being surrounded by a gang of men who looked like they'd come via the nightmares of the Dr. Who make-up department circa 1987 and an engagement party at which it became apparent that I was back with Ben when I really didn't want to be. The person who I'm having to actively stop myself thinking about was in attendance and the bar didn't have lemonade and Jack Daniel's was £6.
Yep, I'm in a fantastic mood today.
The highlights of last night's dreams include being surrounded by a gang of men who looked like they'd come via the nightmares of the Dr. Who make-up department circa 1987 and an engagement party at which it became apparent that I was back with Ben when I really didn't want to be. The person who I'm having to actively stop myself thinking about was in attendance and the bar didn't have lemonade and Jack Daniel's was £6.
Yep, I'm in a fantastic mood today.
It's interesting to find out what brings people here. Aside from Pilf and Fiatim, I don't get any other repeat visitor that I can identify. Though I do seem to have a Welsh fan. Any other visitors have done what Ben did and have blocked the thingie loading. Anyway. Recently, I've had a few people Googling Te Quiero Puta, the song by Rammstein, some people looking for what I can only assume must be really a solar-powered record player (they must be quite disappointed to arrive here and see nothing techie), someone in Chicago who had no referring links (which, in a more delusional moment, I entertained the notion that it might have been Billy Corgan hunting for someone to have children with [I did emphasise 'delusional' enough, right?] and just yesterday, someone who Googled 'paracetomol overdose'. The odd thing about that is that yesterday I was reading a health story on the BBC News website about a study suggesting that taking paracetomol with caffeine increasing the risk of liver damage. If you're bacteria (bacteria have livers?) or a rat. The article mentions that "Even relatively small overdoses of paracetamol can cause permanent damage to the liver..." which lead me to reading other related articles, to try to find out what constitutes a 'relatively small overdose'. The received opinion is that 20 tablets can be fatally toxic, and can be considered an overdose. Legislation was brought in in 1998 to limit the size of packs that can be bought in any one place. I guess I count as one of the statistics that brought about that change.
So, from there, I decided I wanted to find out how the overdose actually works. I have known for quite a long time that it can result in liver failure and that that is a relatively slow, not to mention painful, way to die. Once hepatic function fails, toxins build up in the bloodstream and all other major organs are affected, resulting in death if untreated. I've never known the timescale, and as Terry Pratchett once wrote "Curiosity didn't just kill the cat, it gave it concrete boots and threw it in the river." (that's more paraphrasing, to be honest), so it was off to Wikipedia (where else?) to find out more.
If you're interested in the mechanics of an overdose or treatment, here's a link to the page. I love the very clinically detatched terminology for certain things; 'gastrointestinal decontamination', 'gastric lavage'. Lavage makes it sound like soap in involved and that it's a fairly gentle process. Is it fuck.
I can't remember the timescale, though by the time I got to A&E, it was definitely more than an hour after taking the overdose. Going by what the always accurate Wikipedia says, I would've absorbed everything by then, especially since I threw up copiously at home, before the ambulance was called. Fun fact: the vomit was still in the kitchen sink when the paramedics arrived, I remember one of them checking to see if he could see any pills (he couldn't). On the other hand, I had taken 50 of the things and it was 10 years ago, maybe it was standard procedure to whip out the tubing. Maybe they did it anyway to try to stop repeat visits. I know that I'll certainly never do that again.
Anyway, because I presented about 3 hours after taking the overdose, it turns out I was well within the window for successful treatment. Evidently. If I'd not said anything and gone to bed as normal, though, it could've been a different story. Apparently, after about 8 hours, the antidote treatment (which "may make you feel a bit nauseous") becomes significantly less effective as "the cascade of toxic events in the liver has already begun". I doubt I'd've slept well (I certainly didn't anyway, that was the longest night of my life) but I suppose it's possible. If I'd gone another couple of days, I would only be here with a surgical scar, I suppose. "The mortality rate from paracetamol overdose increases two days after the ingestion, reaches a maximum on day four, and then gradually decreases." I'd've been dead by March 22nd 1997, a Saturday and my Dad's birthday.
I'm not sure I could ever find the right words to say that I'm very glad to have not been successful. I regret doing it, insofar as it hurt my parents. I saw my Dad cry, the only time ever in my life, when he told me Mum was in hospital and why. Intellectually, I know they must have been very upset that night, as I turned my stomach inside out because of that IV drip. They were very good about it, when they came to visit and after I was discharged, they didn't let me see how it had hurt them. To be honest though, I'm not sure that I was looking for their response as I was still very mired in myself. I thought at the time that they didn't want to talk about it or acknowledge it, it's more likely that they were waiting for me to bring it up. I eventually did though, when I started therapy about 4 years later. If I could erase that from their lives, I would in a heartbeat.
On the other hand though, I don't regret it. In a way, it was something I had to go through, to get to the other side. It's one of those things that has made me the person I am now. For the most part, I kind of like myself, especially now that I'm taking my meds properly and my brain (Brian) works properly. It's been a very long 10 years.
Just to be absolutley and immutably clear though; if you have Googled suicide or overdosing because you are thinking about it and are considering it, it's not your only option. I am extremely lucky to be here now, with only the possibility of some permanent liver damage. I lost a good friend to suicide a year ago and it's one of the hardest things to live with. If you're feeling like that now, there are people out there who can help. See your doctor. If you don't like your doctor, see a different one. The people you think wouldn't miss you would. If you actually go through with it, you will regret it.
So, from there, I decided I wanted to find out how the overdose actually works. I have known for quite a long time that it can result in liver failure and that that is a relatively slow, not to mention painful, way to die. Once hepatic function fails, toxins build up in the bloodstream and all other major organs are affected, resulting in death if untreated. I've never known the timescale, and as Terry Pratchett once wrote "Curiosity didn't just kill the cat, it gave it concrete boots and threw it in the river." (that's more paraphrasing, to be honest), so it was off to Wikipedia (where else?) to find out more.
If you're interested in the mechanics of an overdose or treatment, here's a link to the page. I love the very clinically detatched terminology for certain things; 'gastrointestinal decontamination', 'gastric lavage'. Lavage makes it sound like soap in involved and that it's a fairly gentle process. Is it fuck.
I can't remember the timescale, though by the time I got to A&E, it was definitely more than an hour after taking the overdose. Going by what the always accurate Wikipedia says, I would've absorbed everything by then, especially since I threw up copiously at home, before the ambulance was called. Fun fact: the vomit was still in the kitchen sink when the paramedics arrived, I remember one of them checking to see if he could see any pills (he couldn't). On the other hand, I had taken 50 of the things and it was 10 years ago, maybe it was standard procedure to whip out the tubing. Maybe they did it anyway to try to stop repeat visits. I know that I'll certainly never do that again.
Anyway, because I presented about 3 hours after taking the overdose, it turns out I was well within the window for successful treatment. Evidently. If I'd not said anything and gone to bed as normal, though, it could've been a different story. Apparently, after about 8 hours, the antidote treatment (which "may make you feel a bit nauseous") becomes significantly less effective as "the cascade of toxic events in the liver has already begun". I doubt I'd've slept well (I certainly didn't anyway, that was the longest night of my life) but I suppose it's possible. If I'd gone another couple of days, I would only be here with a surgical scar, I suppose. "The mortality rate from paracetamol overdose increases two days after the ingestion, reaches a maximum on day four, and then gradually decreases." I'd've been dead by March 22nd 1997, a Saturday and my Dad's birthday.
I'm not sure I could ever find the right words to say that I'm very glad to have not been successful. I regret doing it, insofar as it hurt my parents. I saw my Dad cry, the only time ever in my life, when he told me Mum was in hospital and why. Intellectually, I know they must have been very upset that night, as I turned my stomach inside out because of that IV drip. They were very good about it, when they came to visit and after I was discharged, they didn't let me see how it had hurt them. To be honest though, I'm not sure that I was looking for their response as I was still very mired in myself. I thought at the time that they didn't want to talk about it or acknowledge it, it's more likely that they were waiting for me to bring it up. I eventually did though, when I started therapy about 4 years later. If I could erase that from their lives, I would in a heartbeat.
On the other hand though, I don't regret it. In a way, it was something I had to go through, to get to the other side. It's one of those things that has made me the person I am now. For the most part, I kind of like myself, especially now that I'm taking my meds properly and my brain (Brian) works properly. It's been a very long 10 years.
Just to be absolutley and immutably clear though; if you have Googled suicide or overdosing because you are thinking about it and are considering it, it's not your only option. I am extremely lucky to be here now, with only the possibility of some permanent liver damage. I lost a good friend to suicide a year ago and it's one of the hardest things to live with. If you're feeling like that now, there are people out there who can help. See your doctor. If you don't like your doctor, see a different one. The people you think wouldn't miss you would. If you actually go through with it, you will regret it.
Dad nearly broke the interweb. Well, our bit of it at least. Took it upon himself to reinstall XP because the defrag wasn't working and subsequently realised he'd forgotten how to set up the webnet connection. Anyway, it's fixed! And in future, I will make a copy of any important emails I might need as I spent most of yesterday evening convinced that I'd got the wrong day for my interview and had no way to allay or confirm my fears. Fortunately, I haven't; it's definitely this afternoon and I have all the bits and bobs they want me to take though I haven't a clue of what I'm actually going to say about the topics they'll cover. I'm either a bit nervous or the cold's affecting my stomach. Anyway, at least I have fabulous footwear. I'm wearing the new-off-eBay shoes as they're comfortable for walking and I shouldn't fall off them so easily.
While waiting to feel sleepy last night, I decided to try to name 3 countries whose names begin with each letter of the alphabet. Got stuck on D for a bit, then remembered Denmark. I fell asleep before Q or I'd be frantically flipping through the atlas, near to tears, now. And I had a thought that amused me somewhat; my heart may be a messy mass of keloid tissue, my mind may be more yellowing sellotape than anything else (except maybe blu-tac) but my spirit is a big, sparkly diamond.
And that's where I'll leave that for now.
While waiting to feel sleepy last night, I decided to try to name 3 countries whose names begin with each letter of the alphabet. Got stuck on D for a bit, then remembered Denmark. I fell asleep before Q or I'd be frantically flipping through the atlas, near to tears, now. And I had a thought that amused me somewhat; my heart may be a messy mass of keloid tissue, my mind may be more yellowing sellotape than anything else (except maybe blu-tac) but my spirit is a big, sparkly diamond.
And that's where I'll leave that for now.
I should take the quote (from Bill Hicks) that I've used at the post title and have that tattooed on my other arm.
Actually, I might do that.
The 7" of Tarantula finally turned up. According to the detailed description on the US Customs label, it's CDs/Video. I doubt it'd go in the DVD player either... My favourite bit is that I bought it from a seller based in Miami, Florida. Aren't globalization and free trade just the best things ever? The interweb may have made the world smaller, but I'm reasonably sure the Atlantic is still 3500 miles shore to shore, in one direction. And it may have come via Frankfurt, though the postage label is in French. Unless the company are drop-shippers, and the record only travelled England - Germany - Scotland.
I think too much about everything, don't I?
On waking this morning, I thought my right ear had cleared. No, it was just that quiet. It feels a bit better though, like it's in the next room and the door's open.
Listening to the Walkman last night, I stumbled on to a couple of songs I hadn't heard before, that I'm now completely enarmoured with? of? with..? of...? with? of. A Million Ways by OK Go and Accidental Death by Rilo Kiley. The bass line in A Million Ways hooked me, it's one of those that makes you want to dance (treadmills optional) from the hips and any song that includes the lyrics "fishnets and malice" has to be good in my book. 'Sfunny, I've liked OK Go since I first hear Get Over It way back when it came out 5 or so years ago, but suddenly I've realised that I really like them. In fact, I've just ordered their 2nd album. A while back, I heard a couple of Rilo Kiley's songs and I remember thinking that maybe all the music press hype surrounding them isn't wholly unfounded. Bear in mind that many parts of music journalism think that Oasis is one of the most important bands of the last 15 years (perhaps, but only in the same way a 'Warning! Bridge Out!' sign is important) and that James Blunt is getting a lot of press attention just now. And everyone who writes about them makes the Fleetwood Mac reference. Surely the band must be getting a bit bored of that now? Anyway. I'm ambivalent to the music of Fleetwood Mac, so the comparison means very little, beyond the intraband relationship breakdown thing. Yet, I can't help but think that that's the sole basis for the comparison. So I was a bit dubious when I downloaded some of their stuff, not expecting to like it much. Hey, I'm a grown-up, I can admit when I've made a mistake and when I'm wrong. I'll be ordering their albums next week. Accidental Death, especially, resonates just now.
"And it's neither sink nor swin, least the water's beneath your chin"
Listening to the Walkman last night, I stumbled on to a couple of songs I hadn't heard before, that I'm now completely enarmoured with? of? with..? of...? with? of. A Million Ways by OK Go and Accidental Death by Rilo Kiley. The bass line in A Million Ways hooked me, it's one of those that makes you want to dance (treadmills optional) from the hips and any song that includes the lyrics "fishnets and malice" has to be good in my book. 'Sfunny, I've liked OK Go since I first hear Get Over It way back when it came out 5 or so years ago, but suddenly I've realised that I really like them. In fact, I've just ordered their 2nd album. A while back, I heard a couple of Rilo Kiley's songs and I remember thinking that maybe all the music press hype surrounding them isn't wholly unfounded. Bear in mind that many parts of music journalism think that Oasis is one of the most important bands of the last 15 years (perhaps, but only in the same way a 'Warning! Bridge Out!' sign is important) and that James Blunt is getting a lot of press attention just now. And everyone who writes about them makes the Fleetwood Mac reference. Surely the band must be getting a bit bored of that now? Anyway. I'm ambivalent to the music of Fleetwood Mac, so the comparison means very little, beyond the intraband relationship breakdown thing. Yet, I can't help but think that that's the sole basis for the comparison. So I was a bit dubious when I downloaded some of their stuff, not expecting to like it much. Hey, I'm a grown-up, I can admit when I've made a mistake and when I'm wrong. I'll be ordering their albums next week. Accidental Death, especially, resonates just now.
"And it's neither sink nor swin, least the water's beneath your chin"
According to a study carried out in Scotland, over 25% of the adult population is overweight, second only to the US (who else?) in the developed world. I'm not sure why they had to qualify that it's within the developed nations; I might be mistaken in my belief that 'undeveloped' nations were dealing with just making sure they had enough food to feed everyone every day. Does Zimbabwe count as a developed nation? Mugabe and his cronies appear to be living in Westernized comfort (all that money has to be going somewhere), though everyone else is struggling to get food and decent shelter. Anyway, I'm digressing. The point I wanted to make is that I'm quite impressed with the BBC. They managed to not go on too much about the stereotypical Scottish diet, only mentioning deep-fried pizza directly. (For the record, I tried it once, 10 years ago, after seeing Garbage at the Barras. That I've never had it again, on the basis of one small bite, tells you all you need to know about it.) The deep-fried Mars Bar did not cast it's shadow, which I was totally expecting.
In another study, carried out by Stirling University (just turned 40, alumni including Lesley and our very own Jizz McConnell) on 2000 school kids in Central Scotland, reports that 1 in 5 girls and 1 in 7 boys have self-harmed in the past. While, obviously, I think that this should be talked about more, because it's rarely understood by those who have to deal with it (by which I mean the family and friends of the harmer [who don't themselves do it]), I do wish that they would deliniate between self-harm and suicide. They are not part of the same thing. Suicide is clearly about dying; self-harm is about surviving. Armando Favazza made that very clear in Bodies Under Seige 20 years ago.
Thinking about it, in my group of 3 friends (not counting me) that I had at school in 5th and 6th year; 2 of us self-harmed quite a lot for a year or so, though the other managed to get it sorted within herself a year or so later; 1 I think did so occasionally, though managed to keep it under control and the other never did and couldn't ever quite get her head around it, though tried very hard to understand. So 1 in 5? Not even a little bit surprised.
I heard something else in the news, about possible changes to procedures in rape trials in England and Wales. I can't find anything more about it online, but it was something about a statement for the jurors regarding the conduct and demeanor of the victim. Apparently, they should be beating their breasts and tearing at their hair, even in court, and they should immediately report the crime, as soon as it has been perpetrated. For a victim to maybe want some time to deal with it, and maintain her composure throughout the whole process clearly means she must be making it up, in part or entirely. So, as I calm down and think about happy things.... What the lawmakers want to do is have an agreed statement (agreed by both defence and prosecution) to explain the potential coping methods women will employ. This is the idea after it was decided that expert witnesses on the stand, explaining why the woman had a full head of hair and was able to function as a human being, would lead to the prosecution wanting to bring out expert witnesses too. It would give the authors of this book something to fill their time. (I would never advocate book burning, but with that title, I'm sorely tested) Anyway, in my haphazard travels on the interweb, I eventually arrived at the Rape Crisis Scotland page. Then clicked on the news section. The first article, for September 2007, headlined "Research reveals that the law fails to protect women from questioning about sexual history and character" makes me want to cry some. And shake judges 'til their wigs fall off. I've seen Cornton Vale (only from the outside, though) I'm not afraid to do time for what I believe in. Especially since I've just done some basic maths using the figures reprinted in the second article this month. These figures are from the Scottish Goverment, just to be clear. And they only deal with "reported rapes, attempted rapes and other 'crimes of indecency'" 2005/6 and 2006/2007. Given that we're still in 2007, they can't be running by the calendar. Or the tax year. Anyway. I'm getting bogged down and I have an important point I need to make.
In 2006/7, there were 53 (5% different from the previous year) fewer rapes and 97 (also 5% difference) fewer lewd and libidinous practices reported. 150 fewer crimes of these types. Yes, I now feel 5% safer. Enjoy the moment, bask in it, savour the feeling that society might actually be getting somewhere, even if it is very slow progress. Feeling good? Excellent. Now I'll go on. There were 15 (8% difference) more attempted rapes, 1 (less that 1% difference, ScotGov* have it as 0%) more case of indecent exposure and 156 (10% difference) more indecent assaults in the same period. Now that I've befuddled you (and almost myself) with all the numbers and brackets, let me bring it home. In the period 2005/6, there were 5320 reported crimes of a sexual nature. In the corresponding period of 2006/7, there were 5342 crimes reported. A difference of 22 cases, though not in the good direction. However, there was 150 fewer reported crimes of rape and lewd and libidinous practises but 172 more of the other types covered by these figures. Perhaps I'm overly cynical, but how many of these 172 cases have been classified to look 'nicer' and less horrifying? How many rapes have been recorded as indecent assaults because the details might be a little hazy? I freely admit I don't know the criteria for classifying an attack as this tpye or that, beyond the glaringly obvious, but if you can't remember what happened, either because of external or internal influences, or you perhaps don't want to admit that you have been raped for whatever reason, what's to say that it wouldn't be recorded as a 'lesser' crime? And have I just confused myself with the numbers and said the same thing twice?
And be impressed, no calculators were used in the making of this post. If you want, I could take a photo of my working and post it. I have to go and look at shoes now, or risk turning into a vegetable.
No, I'm too worked up to sleep, it's the righteous indignation that does it.
*They're not going to show the actual percentage increase, even if it is 0.0003 or something, so I'm not going to type the whole name, and in doing so, lend it a sinister, Orwellian air.
In another study, carried out by Stirling University (just turned 40, alumni including Lesley and our very own Jizz McConnell) on 2000 school kids in Central Scotland, reports that 1 in 5 girls and 1 in 7 boys have self-harmed in the past. While, obviously, I think that this should be talked about more, because it's rarely understood by those who have to deal with it (by which I mean the family and friends of the harmer [who don't themselves do it]), I do wish that they would deliniate between self-harm and suicide. They are not part of the same thing. Suicide is clearly about dying; self-harm is about surviving. Armando Favazza made that very clear in Bodies Under Seige 20 years ago.
Thinking about it, in my group of 3 friends (not counting me) that I had at school in 5th and 6th year; 2 of us self-harmed quite a lot for a year or so, though the other managed to get it sorted within herself a year or so later; 1 I think did so occasionally, though managed to keep it under control and the other never did and couldn't ever quite get her head around it, though tried very hard to understand. So 1 in 5? Not even a little bit surprised.
I heard something else in the news, about possible changes to procedures in rape trials in England and Wales. I can't find anything more about it online, but it was something about a statement for the jurors regarding the conduct and demeanor of the victim. Apparently, they should be beating their breasts and tearing at their hair, even in court, and they should immediately report the crime, as soon as it has been perpetrated. For a victim to maybe want some time to deal with it, and maintain her composure throughout the whole process clearly means she must be making it up, in part or entirely. So, as I calm down and think about happy things.... What the lawmakers want to do is have an agreed statement (agreed by both defence and prosecution) to explain the potential coping methods women will employ. This is the idea after it was decided that expert witnesses on the stand, explaining why the woman had a full head of hair and was able to function as a human being, would lead to the prosecution wanting to bring out expert witnesses too. It would give the authors of this book something to fill their time. (I would never advocate book burning, but with that title, I'm sorely tested) Anyway, in my haphazard travels on the interweb, I eventually arrived at the Rape Crisis Scotland page. Then clicked on the news section. The first article, for September 2007, headlined "Research reveals that the law fails to protect women from questioning about sexual history and character" makes me want to cry some. And shake judges 'til their wigs fall off. I've seen Cornton Vale (only from the outside, though) I'm not afraid to do time for what I believe in. Especially since I've just done some basic maths using the figures reprinted in the second article this month. These figures are from the Scottish Goverment, just to be clear. And they only deal with "reported rapes, attempted rapes and other 'crimes of indecency'" 2005/6 and 2006/2007. Given that we're still in 2007, they can't be running by the calendar. Or the tax year. Anyway. I'm getting bogged down and I have an important point I need to make.
In 2006/7, there were 53 (5% different from the previous year) fewer rapes and 97 (also 5% difference) fewer lewd and libidinous practices reported. 150 fewer crimes of these types. Yes, I now feel 5% safer. Enjoy the moment, bask in it, savour the feeling that society might actually be getting somewhere, even if it is very slow progress. Feeling good? Excellent. Now I'll go on. There were 15 (8% difference) more attempted rapes, 1 (less that 1% difference, ScotGov* have it as 0%) more case of indecent exposure and 156 (10% difference) more indecent assaults in the same period. Now that I've befuddled you (and almost myself) with all the numbers and brackets, let me bring it home. In the period 2005/6, there were 5320 reported crimes of a sexual nature. In the corresponding period of 2006/7, there were 5342 crimes reported. A difference of 22 cases, though not in the good direction. However, there was 150 fewer reported crimes of rape and lewd and libidinous practises but 172 more of the other types covered by these figures. Perhaps I'm overly cynical, but how many of these 172 cases have been classified to look 'nicer' and less horrifying? How many rapes have been recorded as indecent assaults because the details might be a little hazy? I freely admit I don't know the criteria for classifying an attack as this tpye or that, beyond the glaringly obvious, but if you can't remember what happened, either because of external or internal influences, or you perhaps don't want to admit that you have been raped for whatever reason, what's to say that it wouldn't be recorded as a 'lesser' crime? And have I just confused myself with the numbers and said the same thing twice?
And be impressed, no calculators were used in the making of this post. If you want, I could take a photo of my working and post it. I have to go and look at shoes now, or risk turning into a vegetable.
No, I'm too worked up to sleep, it's the righteous indignation that does it.
*They're not going to show the actual percentage increase, even if it is 0.0003 or something, so I'm not going to type the whole name, and in doing so, lend it a sinister, Orwellian air.
Siamese Dream arrived, from Argentina. The stamps are pretty, I may keep them. Whaaaaat? How often do you get mail from South America? Now, the task is to delete the tracks I downloaded as they are now duplicates that take up more space.
I had a go with the Valsalva Maneuver (which I think I misspelt yesterday) and it worked. Kind of. I have super-hearing out my left ear now, after it made a sqidgy popping sound, and my right ear is still so muffled it sounds like it's in another room. Now that I'm thinking about it, I think I can breathe through my left ear, it's so clear. That could be an unexpectedly useful skill...
It occurs to me that I've been going on and on (in my head, if not aubibly) about how Jane Says and Turn My Way are my most favouritest songs of ever and ever and evar. I'm reminded, somewhat belatedly, of Mayonaise, by the Pumpkins. Ever since I saw the acoustic version on Vieuphoria, I've especially loved that song, and that was about 10 years before I heard Turn My Way. So... yeah. Top 3. You could do worse than download it. Like with Jane Says, the original is beautiful and fantastic, but the live version has a certain... I don't know... what do the French say? Je ne se quois, or something. Handily, both these live versions have had proper record company releases; Kettle Whistle for Jane Says and Earphoria for Mayonaise.
At this rate, I'll have a Top 5 songs list by the time I'm 42.
I had a go with the Valsalva Maneuver (which I think I misspelt yesterday) and it worked. Kind of. I have super-hearing out my left ear now, after it made a sqidgy popping sound, and my right ear is still so muffled it sounds like it's in another room. Now that I'm thinking about it, I think I can breathe through my left ear, it's so clear. That could be an unexpectedly useful skill...
It occurs to me that I've been going on and on (in my head, if not aubibly) about how Jane Says and Turn My Way are my most favouritest songs of ever and ever and evar. I'm reminded, somewhat belatedly, of Mayonaise, by the Pumpkins. Ever since I saw the acoustic version on Vieuphoria, I've especially loved that song, and that was about 10 years before I heard Turn My Way. So... yeah. Top 3. You could do worse than download it. Like with Jane Says, the original is beautiful and fantastic, but the live version has a certain... I don't know... what do the French say? Je ne se quois, or something. Handily, both these live versions have had proper record company releases; Kettle Whistle for Jane Says and Earphoria for Mayonaise.
At this rate, I'll have a Top 5 songs list by the time I'm 42.
Somehow, I've worn a small hole in my nose.
At first, I thought it was a small spot, but no, it's a hole in the skin. Thank you, tissues-made-of-wood-pulp. My ear is making sounds like there's water in it. The right side of my throat feels like I have barbed wire stuck in it. But, thanks to modern medicine, I'm feeling almost human. Well, as human as I ever do. There's chloroform in the expectorant.
Siamese Dream and Tarantula are due today. I'm going to go tempt fate and go have a long, steamy shower in the hopes the doorbell will go while I've shampoo in my hair.
At first, I thought it was a small spot, but no, it's a hole in the skin. Thank you, tissues-made-of-wood-pulp. My ear is making sounds like there's water in it. The right side of my throat feels like I have barbed wire stuck in it. But, thanks to modern medicine, I'm feeling almost human. Well, as human as I ever do. There's chloroform in the expectorant.
Siamese Dream and Tarantula are due today. I'm going to go tempt fate and go have a long, steamy shower in the hopes the doorbell will go while I've shampoo in my hair.
Whoever found out that Xylometazoline Hydrochloride makes the swelling in sinuses reduce, I salute you. I can breathe through both nostrils simultaneously! After not being about to do so for 30 hours, it's quite a divine experience. Now, if there's a magic pills or spray (not lotion, it wouldn't work) to reduce the swelling in my Eustachean tube, I'd be ecstatic. I've tried yawning, swallowing and that blowing-out-while-holding-my-nose-and-keeping-my-mouth-shut thing. According to Wikipedia (where I get all my information) there's proper name for it and it's a maneuver. Anyway, it's more of a gesture the way I'm doing it, as it's not working.
For some reason, I have Breathe Me by Sia in my head. It's very pretty, but also very sad. I don't feel sad. Bored, frustrated, fed up of being sick already, reasonably happy, a slight pain in my back from lying in bed all day, like I need a shower tomorrow as my hair's feeling a little icky, but not sad. I somehow forgot to take my pill on Saturday, which is odd, because I distinctly remember thinking 'Oh, must take the tablet' and going to find the pack. I don't recall actually taking the pill though, so it's possible, I suppose, that I then glanced at my newest shoes and forgot all reason. Or the barriers between parallel universes are extremely weak, as I've suspected recently, and I did take the pill but while I was out, my pack swapped itself with the pack belonging to a me that didn't take the pill on Saturday. I've not had a nosebleed in 12 years, looks like I'm desperate to have one now, doesn't it? Or an aneurysm.
A dream I had last night (or sometime today, I'm not sure) has just come back to me; the mirror I use for make-up application and facial hair plucking (eyebrows mostly) kept moving while I was asleep. My parents swore blind that they weren't moving it, and I'd've known if they were coming into my room while I was asleep anyway. It turned up in the garden one morning. I think at one point it moved while I was using it, but turned away. A dream poltergeist, warning me against vanity? That said, given the way my fevered mind is working just now, it could just have been a crazy dream that means fuck all.
For some reason, I have Breathe Me by Sia in my head. It's very pretty, but also very sad. I don't feel sad. Bored, frustrated, fed up of being sick already, reasonably happy, a slight pain in my back from lying in bed all day, like I need a shower tomorrow as my hair's feeling a little icky, but not sad. I somehow forgot to take my pill on Saturday, which is odd, because I distinctly remember thinking 'Oh, must take the tablet' and going to find the pack. I don't recall actually taking the pill though, so it's possible, I suppose, that I then glanced at my newest shoes and forgot all reason. Or the barriers between parallel universes are extremely weak, as I've suspected recently, and I did take the pill but while I was out, my pack swapped itself with the pack belonging to a me that didn't take the pill on Saturday. I've not had a nosebleed in 12 years, looks like I'm desperate to have one now, doesn't it? Or an aneurysm.
A dream I had last night (or sometime today, I'm not sure) has just come back to me; the mirror I use for make-up application and facial hair plucking (eyebrows mostly) kept moving while I was asleep. My parents swore blind that they weren't moving it, and I'd've known if they were coming into my room while I was asleep anyway. It turned up in the garden one morning. I think at one point it moved while I was using it, but turned away. A dream poltergeist, warning me against vanity? That said, given the way my fevered mind is working just now, it could just have been a crazy dream that means fuck all.
I wasn't going to write just now, I still feel like death warmed over, but I stumbled across this and just had to share. Isn't it hysterical? It's cheered me right up, I was starting to feel overly self-pitying after not being able to sleep last night, as I couldn't breathe properly. Just think, if the candle holders were positioned just slightly differently, they would just be funny shadows made by light through glass and I'd still be as glum as I was at 4 o'clock this morning. Isn't life grand?
Why is it, whenever I get a cold, my nose blocks up painfully? But only ever on one side? Right now, I feel like my left eye might fall out from the pressure being exerted by the sinuses above and below. Not half an hour ago, it was the right side. And when I try to eat, I can't breathe sufficiently well through just one nostril, so I find myself gasping away between mouthfuls like someone who ran out of air 100 metres down and has just broken the surface. And usually manage to almost inhale a crumb, which sets off a coughing fit. And that will stay with me for a while. The cough, I mean. Ever since I was little, I've always found it hard to shift a cough. I occasionally suspect undiagnosed bronchitis (along with the unnoticed tonsilitis and "deafness" at a certain frequency). I should go to the doctor, I suppose, but it's not as bad as it could be. I have yet to actually cough up an lung.
Time has passed remarkably quickly today. It didn't feel like I spent an hour in the bathroom in the middle of the night. It wasn't until I realised I was shivering because I was cold, not because of the vomitiness, that it occured to me it might not have just been 10 minutes since I was swaying in my bed. A radio program I thought took 10 minutes to finish actually took 40 minutes. Unfortunately, I'm bored. I want to be passively entertained. I don't want to have to sit and hold the book and turn the pages and actively read it and make sense of the words. It's too much effort for my poor brain. I want someone to come and entertain me and occasionally make me a cup of tea. And not comment on the fact that I'm turning into a snot machine, surrounded by wet-looking tissues. OK, yes, alright. This is one of those times that having a nice boyfriend would be useful. But finding a nice boy who I want to share drippy looks with is proving more trouble than it's worth. The only way I would countenance a relationship just now would be if Seth Green turned up on my doorstep, with a container of chicken soup and a box of tissues (Just had to edit that as a box of tissue is an entirely different thing and might not be the nicest thing to be presented with. Do I look like Shylock??). And it'd have to be the balsam type, my nose is starting to feel somewhat raw. And he'd have to be willing to risk catching this himself, and snuggle. I'm not feeling even a little bit sexy, but I'd kill for a good cuddle just now. And lip balm...
Time has passed remarkably quickly today. It didn't feel like I spent an hour in the bathroom in the middle of the night. It wasn't until I realised I was shivering because I was cold, not because of the vomitiness, that it occured to me it might not have just been 10 minutes since I was swaying in my bed. A radio program I thought took 10 minutes to finish actually took 40 minutes. Unfortunately, I'm bored. I want to be passively entertained. I don't want to have to sit and hold the book and turn the pages and actively read it and make sense of the words. It's too much effort for my poor brain. I want someone to come and entertain me and occasionally make me a cup of tea. And not comment on the fact that I'm turning into a snot machine, surrounded by wet-looking tissues. OK, yes, alright. This is one of those times that having a nice boyfriend would be useful. But finding a nice boy who I want to share drippy looks with is proving more trouble than it's worth. The only way I would countenance a relationship just now would be if Seth Green turned up on my doorstep, with a container of chicken soup and a box of tissues (Just had to edit that as a box of tissue is an entirely different thing and might not be the nicest thing to be presented with. Do I look like Shylock??). And it'd have to be the balsam type, my nose is starting to feel somewhat raw. And he'd have to be willing to risk catching this himself, and snuggle. I'm not feeling even a little bit sexy, but I'd kill for a good cuddle just now. And lip balm...
Blaaaargh. I have Dad's cold, and it's progressing quickly. Last night, I lay in the dark and felt like I was on a small raft in heavy seas. I still feel like a perpetual motion machine now. I threw up again last night, in to the bath this time. I'm glad I didn't have my glasses on, suffice to say I'd eaten 2 veggie burgers and had some Irn Bru a few hours beforehand. Aesthetically speaking, it provided a striking contrast against the turquoise of the bath. And I had to use the bath, as I was already using the loo. The bathroom is awkwardly designed for this purpose; the sink is too far behind the loo to be useful, though it is between the toilet and the bath, and the bath is far enough away that you have to stand up to reach it. All I'll say is, I have excellent muscle control, even at times such as these. Even then, that's still TMI.
An hour later, I dragged myself back to bed, but couldn't sleep because I was cramping so badly that it felt like I was being stabbed. I could visualise the dagger (not knife, it definitely had 2 edges and was very pointy.) The worst part of cramps like that is that there's nothing you can do to ease them. Curling up doesn't work, lying flat, twisting, nothing. I don't take painkillers, having taken too many in the past, so I just have to bear it. It must've worn off eventually, as I did eventually get a few hours sleep. Now, it feels like I have a lead-lined belt on. And it's way too tight. Anyway, more TMI, but during my extended bathroom visit, I found that I had bled through a super tampon (cape and all) in the space of about 3 hours. And the blood was bright red. Should I be worried? I nearly tried to get it together to get up and go wake my Mum, but it was too much effort. I'm used to heavy periods, but this is crazy even for me. Also, the blood is usually a bit darker. Am I panicking myself? Honestly, I need a hysterectomy. It serves absolutely no practical purpose, unless you're Tampax or a drug company. If I end up desperate for a family, I can adopt. Assuming they'd let me.
Ouch. Turns out that lead-lined belt is holding the dagger in place. Why does my body hate me so much?
An hour later, I dragged myself back to bed, but couldn't sleep because I was cramping so badly that it felt like I was being stabbed. I could visualise the dagger (not knife, it definitely had 2 edges and was very pointy.) The worst part of cramps like that is that there's nothing you can do to ease them. Curling up doesn't work, lying flat, twisting, nothing. I don't take painkillers, having taken too many in the past, so I just have to bear it. It must've worn off eventually, as I did eventually get a few hours sleep. Now, it feels like I have a lead-lined belt on. And it's way too tight. Anyway, more TMI, but during my extended bathroom visit, I found that I had bled through a super tampon (cape and all) in the space of about 3 hours. And the blood was bright red. Should I be worried? I nearly tried to get it together to get up and go wake my Mum, but it was too much effort. I'm used to heavy periods, but this is crazy even for me. Also, the blood is usually a bit darker. Am I panicking myself? Honestly, I need a hysterectomy. It serves absolutely no practical purpose, unless you're Tampax or a drug company. If I end up desperate for a family, I can adopt. Assuming they'd let me.
Ouch. Turns out that lead-lined belt is holding the dagger in place. Why does my body hate me so much?
This reminds me so strongly of the video for Tonight Tonight. Not that it looks anything like it, but thematically... It's like it's the continuation of the story, 300 years later. Or do I just really need my bed?
Left the window open to air it out, the carpet isn't very warm under foot....
3 bottles of Magner's later, I'm feeling a little merry, just in a shiney happy way. The train trip, half hour's wait at the bus station then bus ride home has a somewhat sobering effect. I got on great with Robb, I hope he will be a good friend in the time to come. And I think I've lost the thing that drives attraction; not one single male in Glasgow City Centre caught my eye this afternoon. Oh well, it probably makes the single life easier.
I've a feeling I'm going to end up hanging around Strathclyde Park tomorrow; my Mum and brother are participating in a 10k run. I'll take my umbrella and a book. On to other things...
Audience participation time! A first lines competition, if you will. I'll put first lines, you have to guess the song. Doddle. There might be prizes, if you're in the Strathclyde region at any point. But not sexual favours this time, unless you're really special. In a purple crayons way. (And Seth Green)
1. Who put all this dirt in my machine, all I did was try to keep it clean...
2. I was starin' at the sky, just lookin' for a star to pray on or wish or somethin' like that...
3. I love myself, I want you to love me...
4. Heaven, I'm in heaven and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak...
5. Siren sighing and crying, siren sighing and crying... *
6. She wears her dress high, as high as she pulls her hat down low...
7. If you see a faded sign at the side of the road...
8. Tonight, tonight, tonight we're gonna, tonight's the night, tonight we're gonna, tonight, tonight we're gonna, tonight's the night tonight we're gonna, tonight's the night we're gonna make it happen... *
9. Go if you want to, I'd never try to stop you...
10. Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup... *
11. I'm so tired of playing, playing with this bow and arrow...
12. I've been looking so long at these [....] that I almost believe that they're real...
13. I like butter, I like jam, I like toast and I like spam...
14. Feelin' easy on the outside, not too funny on the inside...
15. They say in chess you've got to kill the queen and then you've made it...
16. When you're sad and when you're lonely, and you haven't got a friend...
17. When you're out with you're out with your friends in your new Mercedes-Benz...
18. The waves keep on crashing on me for some reason...
19. The world is my expense...
20. Live wire, moves slow...
All taken from my favourites playlist. I have another 540 I could use, though some of them have their names in the first line which is awkward. The starred ones are cover versions, if you can correctly guess which cover is in my playlist, you can have a bonus point. And, just to confound you, there's only one that's a Pumpkins' song. And number 8 might not be exactly correct, I listened to it 12 times then started to get cross-eared. Once I reveal the answers (I'll wear a sequinned frock, promise) I strongly recommend downloading the ones you don't recognise. Because I have fabulous music taste, and everyone should agree with me. I am the arbiter of good music taste, you see.
Can anyone say sugar high?
3 bottles of Magner's later, I'm feeling a little merry, just in a shiney happy way. The train trip, half hour's wait at the bus station then bus ride home has a somewhat sobering effect. I got on great with Robb, I hope he will be a good friend in the time to come. And I think I've lost the thing that drives attraction; not one single male in Glasgow City Centre caught my eye this afternoon. Oh well, it probably makes the single life easier.
I've a feeling I'm going to end up hanging around Strathclyde Park tomorrow; my Mum and brother are participating in a 10k run. I'll take my umbrella and a book. On to other things...
Audience participation time! A first lines competition, if you will. I'll put first lines, you have to guess the song. Doddle. There might be prizes, if you're in the Strathclyde region at any point. But not sexual favours this time, unless you're really special. In a purple crayons way. (And Seth Green)
1. Who put all this dirt in my machine, all I did was try to keep it clean...
2. I was starin' at the sky, just lookin' for a star to pray on or wish or somethin' like that...
3. I love myself, I want you to love me...
4. Heaven, I'm in heaven and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak...
5. Siren sighing and crying, siren sighing and crying... *
6. She wears her dress high, as high as she pulls her hat down low...
7. If you see a faded sign at the side of the road...
8. Tonight, tonight, tonight we're gonna, tonight's the night, tonight we're gonna, tonight, tonight we're gonna, tonight's the night tonight we're gonna, tonight's the night we're gonna make it happen... *
9. Go if you want to, I'd never try to stop you...
10. Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup... *
11. I'm so tired of playing, playing with this bow and arrow...
12. I've been looking so long at these [....] that I almost believe that they're real...
13. I like butter, I like jam, I like toast and I like spam...
14. Feelin' easy on the outside, not too funny on the inside...
15. They say in chess you've got to kill the queen and then you've made it...
16. When you're sad and when you're lonely, and you haven't got a friend...
17. When you're out with you're out with your friends in your new Mercedes-Benz...
18. The waves keep on crashing on me for some reason...
19. The world is my expense...
20. Live wire, moves slow...
All taken from my favourites playlist. I have another 540 I could use, though some of them have their names in the first line which is awkward. The starred ones are cover versions, if you can correctly guess which cover is in my playlist, you can have a bonus point. And, just to confound you, there's only one that's a Pumpkins' song. And number 8 might not be exactly correct, I listened to it 12 times then started to get cross-eared. Once I reveal the answers (I'll wear a sequinned frock, promise) I strongly recommend downloading the ones you don't recognise. Because I have fabulous music taste, and everyone should agree with me. I am the arbiter of good music taste, you see.
Can anyone say sugar high?
Just a quick one; I'm heading out shortly to go into town and meet Robb. As I have to be back to let my brother into the house, it won't be a long visit. I hope I don't look too different from my FaceBook profile, or I might have a long wait in Central Station...
Big Cock Shemale? How accurate a description is it? Is it an unusual Native American name? And what does it say about me that I initially read it as 'She-mal-ay'? That odd glubglubby sound is my mind boggling, don't worry.
Anyway. How cool is this? And it won't turn your finger green. Goodness, when I finally get my own place and get settled, it's going to be quite the visual experience. I'd be able to charge admission. That would help to cover the electicity bill for all the fairy lights, I suppose. I may yet inherit Lesley's dirty picture collection, which would have to go in the hallway. The same Jehovah's Witnesses would never knock on my door twice, at least. Not that I have anything against people who participate in organized religion, of course, as long as they don't hurt anyone else and do it behind closed doors... I'm so excited about moving into my own place. And I've decided, it will be on my own. I wonder if I still have that blue chalkboard paint somewhere... And this time, I really will have a housewarming. The thought of being able to have music on as loud as I like (obviously within reason regarding neighbours) and being able to make coffee and leave the pot on for 18 hours and leave the bathroom door open while I take a bath, so I can hear the stereo clearly and have a bigger bed again and (I keep going on about this) dance about my own living room in my underwear is what's keeping me going just now. It's not the only thing, but it fills me with glee.
I found out a bit about Benjamin's new paramour today. Mid-20's is apparently "27 next year". I don't know why he didn't just say "26", but pehaps he's a little conscious that she's that bit younger than him, or indeed, me, and wanted to emphasize her maturity. I'm not even a little bit jealous of him or her. The whole thing just makes me want to laugh. Since I've got back in touch, it feels like he's turning our break-up into something that was far more traumatic, so that he can identify with her. I wonder if he's told her that he cheated on me. Or that I forgave it. Or about the other things that came out at the time, that I promised I wouldn't write about here. The relationship had really run it's course by the time we broke up last summer. Getting back together wasn't the best idea, but we both felt so bad about things that it was a familiar comfort. Then we broke up again. We got back together because my life was imploding and I needed something reasonably constant and he wanted to prove to himself that he wasn't the bad person the thought he might be. I guess he was right when he said we both wanted different things, but I doubt he meant that. The big lesson of that relationship would be: relying one someone else to fix things doesn't work, for 2 reasons; no-one can do the work for you and they more than likely haven't got the same motivations as you. Ben wanted so badly for me to 'live up to my potential' that it got to be a rod for my back. No matter what I could do, it started to feel like it would never be enough, so I eventually gave up trying. I don't want to spend my life chasing after the pot of gold, I'd rather step back and look at the rainbow. If I'm going to get involved with anyone in future, he's going to have to be quite special. Taking me as I am, from day to day, figures quite highly. I don't know how the depression will go in future, something could happen and it vanishes (why do I think that that would have to be something like a lightning strike?) but more than likely it won't. I'm only now coming to terms with the fact that it's there and I have to find a way to integrate it into my life. At the moment, that involves taking the pills every day (only 4 days so far, but every journey and other clichés) and wittering endlessly on here about it. I'm not stupid; there are going to be bad days. I haven't had one for about 3 weeks though, that's the longest period this year so far. Huh. I've not thought about that before now and good golly gosh, it feels weirdly good! So good in fact, I've lost the thread of what I was thinking about.
Slippers. How good are they? I got booties the other day, barely had them off since and have such warm feet that I can't sleep at night for it! No-one that doesn't share DNA with me will see them on my feet though, they're like metallic pink Uggs (which, to my mind, are very well named in an onomatopoaeic way) and given my feelings on them, they are not fit for public consumption. That said, they're slippers. I'm hardly going to wear them out of the house while still pre-menopausal. And the soles are so thick and bouncy that going downstairs is somewhat treacherous!
Anyway. How cool is this? And it won't turn your finger green. Goodness, when I finally get my own place and get settled, it's going to be quite the visual experience. I'd be able to charge admission. That would help to cover the electicity bill for all the fairy lights, I suppose. I may yet inherit Lesley's dirty picture collection, which would have to go in the hallway. The same Jehovah's Witnesses would never knock on my door twice, at least. Not that I have anything against people who participate in organized religion, of course, as long as they don't hurt anyone else and do it behind closed doors... I'm so excited about moving into my own place. And I've decided, it will be on my own. I wonder if I still have that blue chalkboard paint somewhere... And this time, I really will have a housewarming. The thought of being able to have music on as loud as I like (obviously within reason regarding neighbours) and being able to make coffee and leave the pot on for 18 hours and leave the bathroom door open while I take a bath, so I can hear the stereo clearly and have a bigger bed again and (I keep going on about this) dance about my own living room in my underwear is what's keeping me going just now. It's not the only thing, but it fills me with glee.
I found out a bit about Benjamin's new paramour today. Mid-20's is apparently "27 next year". I don't know why he didn't just say "26", but pehaps he's a little conscious that she's that bit younger than him, or indeed, me, and wanted to emphasize her maturity. I'm not even a little bit jealous of him or her. The whole thing just makes me want to laugh. Since I've got back in touch, it feels like he's turning our break-up into something that was far more traumatic, so that he can identify with her. I wonder if he's told her that he cheated on me. Or that I forgave it. Or about the other things that came out at the time, that I promised I wouldn't write about here. The relationship had really run it's course by the time we broke up last summer. Getting back together wasn't the best idea, but we both felt so bad about things that it was a familiar comfort. Then we broke up again. We got back together because my life was imploding and I needed something reasonably constant and he wanted to prove to himself that he wasn't the bad person the thought he might be. I guess he was right when he said we both wanted different things, but I doubt he meant that. The big lesson of that relationship would be: relying one someone else to fix things doesn't work, for 2 reasons; no-one can do the work for you and they more than likely haven't got the same motivations as you. Ben wanted so badly for me to 'live up to my potential' that it got to be a rod for my back. No matter what I could do, it started to feel like it would never be enough, so I eventually gave up trying. I don't want to spend my life chasing after the pot of gold, I'd rather step back and look at the rainbow. If I'm going to get involved with anyone in future, he's going to have to be quite special. Taking me as I am, from day to day, figures quite highly. I don't know how the depression will go in future, something could happen and it vanishes (why do I think that that would have to be something like a lightning strike?) but more than likely it won't. I'm only now coming to terms with the fact that it's there and I have to find a way to integrate it into my life. At the moment, that involves taking the pills every day (only 4 days so far, but every journey and other clichés) and wittering endlessly on here about it. I'm not stupid; there are going to be bad days. I haven't had one for about 3 weeks though, that's the longest period this year so far. Huh. I've not thought about that before now and good golly gosh, it feels weirdly good! So good in fact, I've lost the thread of what I was thinking about.
Slippers. How good are they? I got booties the other day, barely had them off since and have such warm feet that I can't sleep at night for it! No-one that doesn't share DNA with me will see them on my feet though, they're like metallic pink Uggs (which, to my mind, are very well named in an onomatopoaeic way) and given my feelings on them, they are not fit for public consumption. That said, they're slippers. I'm hardly going to wear them out of the house while still pre-menopausal. And the soles are so thick and bouncy that going downstairs is somewhat treacherous!
The book arrived. Maybe the record and CD have been held up at Customs.
Chris has broken up with Brian, but I haven't spoken to him yet, so don't know anything else as yet. Depending on how things go with jobs and his circumstances, I may yet end up being a live-in hag. I'd never leave the house looking anything less than fabulous again. That said, I'm really wary of living with anyone ever again. It's rarely worked out well for me, there's always some arguement (and one psychotic ex-flatmate) and unpleasent tensions. Or proscriptions on the number of fairy lights I'm allowed. Oh well. We'll see. Depends on when I get a job anyway.
There's a possibility I might be going out this weekend, and meeting Robb face to face. It'll be fine, and probably even fun, as long as he understands that it's only about friendship. I really, really don't want a relationship just now. Nor do I like feeling like Mrs. Robinson.
Lastly, for now, the Equal Opportunities Commission has suggested a moritorium on equal pay tribunals, for up to 3 years. This would allow companies to look at their pay structures and fix any inequalities. It's a fine idea, though I have a feeling that in areas where the workforce is primarily female-led, the wage is lower by default, because employers can get away with it. One company I worked for, which has appeared in The Times 100 Best Small Companies To Work For List, pays regular staff the minimum wage. The management get £12,500 and £16,000. Having tried, I know that they aren't really living wages, for a single person, living alone. Nor for a working mother with 2 school-age children. But the company won't change, as they don't have to. There are plenty other women who would love the job, at least until the realities of barely managing set in. The other thing about this being newsworthy now is the date. The Equal Pay Act 1970 came into force in 1975. 32 years later, we still have so many women being routinely underpaid and discriminated against, that the backlog of tribunals is about to collapse the system that deals with them. Isn't it wonderful to be so progressive and adaptable as a civilised society? And to have achieved all of feminism's goals, thereby rendering it pointless as a movement? There really are people who think that. The hell with slapping Keira Knightly, I'll go for them instead I think...
Chris has broken up with Brian, but I haven't spoken to him yet, so don't know anything else as yet. Depending on how things go with jobs and his circumstances, I may yet end up being a live-in hag. I'd never leave the house looking anything less than fabulous again. That said, I'm really wary of living with anyone ever again. It's rarely worked out well for me, there's always some arguement (and one psychotic ex-flatmate) and unpleasent tensions. Or proscriptions on the number of fairy lights I'm allowed. Oh well. We'll see. Depends on when I get a job anyway.
There's a possibility I might be going out this weekend, and meeting Robb face to face. It'll be fine, and probably even fun, as long as he understands that it's only about friendship. I really, really don't want a relationship just now. Nor do I like feeling like Mrs. Robinson.
Lastly, for now, the Equal Opportunities Commission has suggested a moritorium on equal pay tribunals, for up to 3 years. This would allow companies to look at their pay structures and fix any inequalities. It's a fine idea, though I have a feeling that in areas where the workforce is primarily female-led, the wage is lower by default, because employers can get away with it. One company I worked for, which has appeared in The Times 100 Best Small Companies To Work For List, pays regular staff the minimum wage. The management get £12,500 and £16,000. Having tried, I know that they aren't really living wages, for a single person, living alone. Nor for a working mother with 2 school-age children. But the company won't change, as they don't have to. There are plenty other women who would love the job, at least until the realities of barely managing set in. The other thing about this being newsworthy now is the date. The Equal Pay Act 1970 came into force in 1975. 32 years later, we still have so many women being routinely underpaid and discriminated against, that the backlog of tribunals is about to collapse the system that deals with them. Isn't it wonderful to be so progressive and adaptable as a civilised society? And to have achieved all of feminism's goals, thereby rendering it pointless as a movement? There really are people who think that. The hell with slapping Keira Knightly, I'll go for them instead I think...
Keira Knightley never completely shuts her mouth, there's always a tiny little gap through which you can see her front teeth. What's up with that?
Where's my CD, record and book? Siamese Dream, Tarantula 7" and Against Our Will: Women, Men and Rape by Susan Brownmiller. Don't make me stamp my foot and sulk...
Had quite a nice afternoon with Debs; we had lunch (even eating salad!), shopped and got rained on. She's had terrible luck with men too, so there was no eyeing up of men, just shoes. New Look have some nice ones just now, and some really awful ones. I'm considering boycotting them though; not one single pair of jeans in that place had an inside leg longer than 32". I don't do the 'budgie-just-died' look, under any circumstance. It's not like I'm freakishly tall, so where are the 34" jeans?
My dreams are wish-fulfilment. Makes sense, I guess. About the kissing, not the pants. Anyway, I'm quite tired so am going to go take out my lenses and possibly snooze for a while. Oh, and I've an interview for the Civil Service job next week. Got to get a passport-size photo (what for, is what I'd like to know) and think about times where I've had to work as part of a team etc...
Had quite a nice afternoon with Debs; we had lunch (even eating salad!), shopped and got rained on. She's had terrible luck with men too, so there was no eyeing up of men, just shoes. New Look have some nice ones just now, and some really awful ones. I'm considering boycotting them though; not one single pair of jeans in that place had an inside leg longer than 32". I don't do the 'budgie-just-died' look, under any circumstance. It's not like I'm freakishly tall, so where are the 34" jeans?
My dreams are wish-fulfilment. Makes sense, I guess. About the kissing, not the pants. Anyway, I'm quite tired so am going to go take out my lenses and possibly snooze for a while. Oh, and I've an interview for the Civil Service job next week. Got to get a passport-size photo (what for, is what I'd like to know) and think about times where I've had to work as part of a team etc...
Things I've thought while listening to the news;
Buddhist monks are protesting in Burma. I do hope the Burmese fire brigade is on standby. (Yup, coming back as a dung bettle now...)
Iain Duncan Smith wrote in today's Times that he though British forces should pull out of Afghanistan and concentrate on Iraq. Better idea; pull out of Iraq and watch the US go it alone! Fighting to remove the Taliban always stuck me as more legitimate than going to war because Saddam really ticked off W.
A random vox pop on The Sex Lives of Us, aged 59 (60 in two weeks), saying that he was unhappy that there's now a generation of women who are just accepting the "cheapening of women". I don't disagree. I find teenage girls wearing the Playboy bunny faintly sinister, and there was an article in the paper about the website for a young girls magazine (Bliss or Sugar or something) that invited users to send in their photos to be rated for attractiveness and 'pull-ability' by others. Or to send in the photo to be airbrushed... Oh, and the Nuts website has a delightful feature called "Assess My Breasts". I can't recall the rest of the article, or indeed, anything else for sometime; the next thing I remember is a rushing of blood and a pounding in my head as everything went black...
And noticed on the Channel 4 news on Monday: Guy Gibbon (I might have that wrong, I was distracted) has cartoon hair. Jon Snow is still god. Jon Stewart is vice-god. Or vice god, if he prefers.
Buddhist monks are protesting in Burma. I do hope the Burmese fire brigade is on standby. (Yup, coming back as a dung bettle now...)
Iain Duncan Smith wrote in today's Times that he though British forces should pull out of Afghanistan and concentrate on Iraq. Better idea; pull out of Iraq and watch the US go it alone! Fighting to remove the Taliban always stuck me as more legitimate than going to war because Saddam really ticked off W.
A random vox pop on The Sex Lives of Us, aged 59 (60 in two weeks), saying that he was unhappy that there's now a generation of women who are just accepting the "cheapening of women". I don't disagree. I find teenage girls wearing the Playboy bunny faintly sinister, and there was an article in the paper about the website for a young girls magazine (Bliss or Sugar or something) that invited users to send in their photos to be rated for attractiveness and 'pull-ability' by others. Or to send in the photo to be airbrushed... Oh, and the Nuts website has a delightful feature called "Assess My Breasts". I can't recall the rest of the article, or indeed, anything else for sometime; the next thing I remember is a rushing of blood and a pounding in my head as everything went black...
And noticed on the Channel 4 news on Monday: Guy Gibbon (I might have that wrong, I was distracted) has cartoon hair. Jon Snow is still god. Jon Stewart is vice-god. Or vice god, if he prefers.
You know, all I really need is shoes. Even the satin Demonia ones that turned out to be a size too small shoes hurt less than relationships. And, even then, all I have to do is drink sufficient alcohol that my pain receptors pass out or take them off. I've yet to meet a guy you can do that with. And shoes always make me feel wonderful. They don't get jealous if you wear a different pair and you can have as many as you like. The worst that people can say is 'Imelda'. And, seeing as I have no other point of similarity to Mrs. Marcos, especially where it comes to abuses of human rights and corruption, it's not really a fair comparison. I bet she wouldn't wear the bunny shoes either. Oh, and another reason why shoes are better than men; no shoe will ever say that you don't need more shoes and bitch and moan about how many pairs you already have or say "But don't you already have a pair like that?" Because collecting shoes is obviously less legitimate than, say, guitars or computer parts or the entire posh ingredients range from Tesco.
Oh, get me. Bitter, much? Anyway. The shoes.... the shoes... They're amazingly comfortable. OK, I only had them on for, like, 2 minutes, but they felt goooood.
In other things (I'd say 'news', but that's really stretching it), I had a couple of dreams that were odd last night. In one, I went to visit Jen. She had the same curtains as me. Something had happened, and she was upset about it. I was trying to comfort her but had apparently lost my pants, so was trying to pull my skirt down as it kept riding up. It all seemed perfectly sensible at the time. The same with the other dream. I was travelling with Ross Noble to a show he was doing on some tiny island. I recall riding pillion and then being in a rowing boat, trying to find Ross because he had to get to the venue and I couldn't find him. Apparently, I'd turned into his tour manager at some point. The venue was actually a tiny room that held about 8 people. The person I like was one of those people, and he kept trying to get my attention because I kept talking to Ross, who was performing by then. The last thing I remember is being kissed (which was very nice) and then, immediately after, turning to Ross to say something else. It's a bit strange. I've never ridden pillion.
"Who is your *crush of shame*?"
Hmmm... I have no shame, so amn't really embarrassed by anyone I fancy. That dream about Till from Rammstein was the closest probably... Billy Corgan? As it's primarily because I'd have babies with him? The guy on the train earlier? He had lovely eyes, but looked too much like a worthless ex and was drinking, which I found unattractive to the extreme.
Chris and I were trying to talent spot in the city centre earlier. We have different tastes in men anyway, but I think I have ridiculously high standards or something. He was almost constantly seeing someone who he thought was attractive and I just kept seeing gay men (who weren't my type, even to look at) or men who one would hope have some other redeeming quality. We had a good giggle at some people though, like the lady in lime green (two shades, but head to foot. She looked like someone had sneezed on her.) I was on top form and came out with some remarkably witty comments, even if I do say so myself. Unfortunately, I can't remember what any of them were now, but you'd've probably had to have been there anyway. We had a look about Fopp (reopened! Higher powers be praised!) and once again, I forgot every band I like so bought a couple of interesting looking books. We didn't do much else, but eyeing up men is a valid pursuit in and of itself. I saw one other guy who was worthy of a second glance, though on the second pass, I noticed his hair was a bit... bouncy. So, no.
I'm getting into the rugby a bit, and not just because the national team's mostly easy on the eye (honestly, compared to the England team, they are Adonis to a man). It's far more watchable than football. There may also be a slight genetic bias; my Mum's family are heavily into rugby, with most of my male relatives on that side having played to some level (including professionally, I think, though I could be wrong) for a portion of their lives. And too look at them, it's no surprise. They're all built like rugby players (the main reason why I'll never be size 10, let alone size 0).
As I expected, I got home to a Royal Mail card to say a recorded delivery package was waiting for me at the depot. It's the shoes! I'll try to upload a photo tomorrow. Also arrived; Rockabye Baby! Lullaby Renditions of the Smashing Pumpkins. I've listened to it once and I do like it, I'll give it a whirl at 2am, see if it works. The version of Disarm particularly sounded like muzak though, I can't decide if that's good or bad. Anyway, now I have to get the Lullabye Renditions of Nirvana. The sheer mechanics are mind-boggling.
Hmmm... I have no shame, so amn't really embarrassed by anyone I fancy. That dream about Till from Rammstein was the closest probably... Billy Corgan? As it's primarily because I'd have babies with him? The guy on the train earlier? He had lovely eyes, but looked too much like a worthless ex and was drinking, which I found unattractive to the extreme.
Chris and I were trying to talent spot in the city centre earlier. We have different tastes in men anyway, but I think I have ridiculously high standards or something. He was almost constantly seeing someone who he thought was attractive and I just kept seeing gay men (who weren't my type, even to look at) or men who one would hope have some other redeeming quality. We had a good giggle at some people though, like the lady in lime green (two shades, but head to foot. She looked like someone had sneezed on her.) I was on top form and came out with some remarkably witty comments, even if I do say so myself. Unfortunately, I can't remember what any of them were now, but you'd've probably had to have been there anyway. We had a look about Fopp (reopened! Higher powers be praised!) and once again, I forgot every band I like so bought a couple of interesting looking books. We didn't do much else, but eyeing up men is a valid pursuit in and of itself. I saw one other guy who was worthy of a second glance, though on the second pass, I noticed his hair was a bit... bouncy. So, no.
I'm getting into the rugby a bit, and not just because the national team's mostly easy on the eye (honestly, compared to the England team, they are Adonis to a man). It's far more watchable than football. There may also be a slight genetic bias; my Mum's family are heavily into rugby, with most of my male relatives on that side having played to some level (including professionally, I think, though I could be wrong) for a portion of their lives. And too look at them, it's no surprise. They're all built like rugby players (the main reason why I'll never be size 10, let alone size 0).
As I expected, I got home to a Royal Mail card to say a recorded delivery package was waiting for me at the depot. It's the shoes! I'll try to upload a photo tomorrow. Also arrived; Rockabye Baby! Lullaby Renditions of the Smashing Pumpkins. I've listened to it once and I do like it, I'll give it a whirl at 2am, see if it works. The version of Disarm particularly sounded like muzak though, I can't decide if that's good or bad. Anyway, now I have to get the Lullabye Renditions of Nirvana. The sheer mechanics are mind-boggling.
1. What book(s) are you currently reading?
Suffer the Pink by Carrie Fisher, Swift As Desire by Laura Esquivel, Electric Universe by David Bodanis, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers and The Big Fat Bitch Book For (Grown Up) Girls by Kate Figes. I love reading and hate to think I might be missing out on something by reading one at a time. Somehow, I manage to not confuse the plots/themes/topics. Must be a girlie thing.
2. What was the last song you heard?
The lullaby version of 1979. That CD arrived today, so I'm listening to it. I feel like I'm in a very slow lift...
3. Can you play a musical instrument?
The triangle. I have a bass and can play a few songs though it's been a while and I'm really quite bad at it. By rights, I should be a rock star.
4. Which is your favoutrite radio station?
Radio 4 and KROQ
5. Have you ever required a surgical procedure?
No, but I've had stitches once and my stomach pumped. That certainly felt surgical.
6. Are you on any medication just now?
Just the happy pills. I'll start with the contraceptive patches really soon, judging by my interest in the Scotland rugby team.
7. Do you have any tattoos?
Yep.
7a. If yes, what are they and why?
The hourglass with batwings that was taken from the Mellon Collie... artwork (beside the lyrics for BWBW) on my left shoulder, because I really love the Pumpkins and I preferred it to the little car next to 1979; and "I'll make it to the moon if I have to crawl", a line in Scar Tissue by the Chilis, on my right wrist, because the fight with depression is like crawling to the moon. And I used to predominantly cut my right arm.
7b. If no, would you and why (not)?
N/A
8. Do you give money to charity?
Used to give money to the Red Cross. I'll donate to breast cancer research, MS research and the Samaratins as they all affect me or people I know. I'm giving 12 hours a month to Rape Crisis and will no doubt contribute in other ways too, over time. And I gave some homeless guy some change earlier today.
9. Do you believe in anything after death?
Yup. I'm not sure exactly how it works, but there's something beyond there.
10. Do you understand the 24 hour clock?
Yup. To the point I get frustrated by people who are all '17.00? When's that? 7 o'clock?"
11. Are you an early adopter?
Not really, it took me a while to get a mobile phone or my mp3 player. Though I did switch to the new Blogger while it was still in beta. I guess, if it's free then yes. If it costs, then no. Especially since it'll get cheaper very quickly!
12. Do you have any genetic quirks?
I can roll my tongue. I'm left-handed, which is apparently even rarer in females.
13. What would you do if you won the jackpot (we'll say £10million) in the Lotto?
Get comfortable... I'd do all the usual stuff; pay off my parents' mortgage, set up my brother (with a secure home etc, not with a boy), buy myself somewhere to live, see my friends right (Lesley would get a holiday home in the south of France or Tuscany or somewhere also warm, for example), and of course, buy lots and lots of pretty shoes. Imelda would be envious of me. The silliest thing I would do though, would be go to my bank and withdraw a couple of thousand in cash, used (but clean, this is vital) £10 notes for preference, spread them thickly over the floor and roll about in the pile for a while, possibly sipping pink champagne intermittently. Once finished, I'd put the cash back in the bank and continue as normal.
14. Do you prefer sunshine or moonlight?
Moonlight. Sunshine burns.
15. Are CDs really dead as a format?
Not for me; I don't trust the computer not to crash and lose my collection. I still buy vinyl occasionally, cuz I'm retro like that.
16. Who would be your ideal dinner guest (living or reanimated)?
Seth Green. Cute, funny and geeky, what could be better? Seriously, what?
16a. What would you serve?
Nothing too heavy, and probably takeout. Cooking isn't my strength. He can bring dessert... (apologies for the interruption to the broadcast. Please do not readjust your set, normal service will resume shortly...)
17. Do you prefer to be too hot or too cold?
Too cold. I don't like feeling all clammy, and I can always warm up. I only need to think about dessert with Seth... *fans self*
18. What would you want to be famous for?
Writing a 'laugh-out-loud funny' The Independant insightful and feisty The Guardian novel, written from a female perspective but read by all, in which the women experience the ups and downs of relationships, but end up realising that they don't need a man to be happy. And possibly other things, though I've not thought of what as yet.
19. What's your most irrational pet hate?
Women who wear the wrong size bra. Girls who wear foundation the shade of orange fake tan, but no other make up, so at a distance, they look like they have no features. Honestly, it's creepy.
20. What cheers you up?
My pink leopard bed sheets. Fairy lights. Blowing raspberries on other people's tummies (but not strangers, the police told me to stop it). I Hope You Die by The Bloodhound Gang. Ross Noble. Eddie Izzard. Mike Myers. Robot Chicken. Those rabbit shoes from Office. Unexpected phone calls / emails from friends. Deceptacon by Le Tigre. Jane Says by Jane's Addiction. The Ying Tong Song. Dr. Evil. Fraiser. Dancing like no-one's watching, when no-one's watching.
21. What do you wear in bed?
Tonight, black cotton drawstring trousers and my Dr. Evil t-shirt. Sometimes, short pyjamas. Nightdresses usually try to strangle me in the night. And, excepting special circumstances, always pants.
22. Do you like glitter?
Should I ever be cut open, they'll find glitter and very little else. An ex thought I exuded it, as it kept appearing wherever I'd been.
23. Do you understand the offside rule?
In rugby, just about. In football, pshaw!
24. What's your blood type?
B+ which tickles my irony bone no end.
25. Are you ticklish?
On the soles of my feet, though I tend to kick without restraint when tickled. Consider yourself warned.
26. Do you want (more) children?
No. Quite apart from the fact they'd take valuable shoe money, I just can't see me being a mother.
27. Do you often win things?
No. My brother got all the luck like that, though he never wins money. My odds would be better if I ever entered anything, though.
28. What do you normally drink when you're in the pub?
Jack Daniel's and lemonade, if I don't want to get drunk, or cider when I do. And cocktails when I want to throw up in the bathroom sink.
29. Are you superstitious?
Kind of. Though I get confused with the magpies. Is it when you see them together, or cumulative?
30. Do you want to be buried or cremated?
Cremated, I think. Then I can be mixed with glitter and scattered. Though by then, I won't really need it anymore, so it's up to whoever's left to decide.
31. What question(s) would you add?
I made up 30-odd already! My brain hurtles.... *pout*
Suffer the Pink by Carrie Fisher, Swift As Desire by Laura Esquivel, Electric Universe by David Bodanis, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers and The Big Fat Bitch Book For (Grown Up) Girls by Kate Figes. I love reading and hate to think I might be missing out on something by reading one at a time. Somehow, I manage to not confuse the plots/themes/topics. Must be a girlie thing.
2. What was the last song you heard?
The lullaby version of 1979. That CD arrived today, so I'm listening to it. I feel like I'm in a very slow lift...
3. Can you play a musical instrument?
The triangle. I have a bass and can play a few songs though it's been a while and I'm really quite bad at it. By rights, I should be a rock star.
4. Which is your favoutrite radio station?
Radio 4 and KROQ
5. Have you ever required a surgical procedure?
No, but I've had stitches once and my stomach pumped. That certainly felt surgical.
6. Are you on any medication just now?
Just the happy pills. I'll start with the contraceptive patches really soon, judging by my interest in the Scotland rugby team.
7. Do you have any tattoos?
Yep.
7a. If yes, what are they and why?
The hourglass with batwings that was taken from the Mellon Collie... artwork (beside the lyrics for BWBW) on my left shoulder, because I really love the Pumpkins and I preferred it to the little car next to 1979; and "I'll make it to the moon if I have to crawl", a line in Scar Tissue by the Chilis, on my right wrist, because the fight with depression is like crawling to the moon. And I used to predominantly cut my right arm.
7b. If no, would you and why (not)?
N/A
8. Do you give money to charity?
Used to give money to the Red Cross. I'll donate to breast cancer research, MS research and the Samaratins as they all affect me or people I know. I'm giving 12 hours a month to Rape Crisis and will no doubt contribute in other ways too, over time. And I gave some homeless guy some change earlier today.
9. Do you believe in anything after death?
Yup. I'm not sure exactly how it works, but there's something beyond there.
10. Do you understand the 24 hour clock?
Yup. To the point I get frustrated by people who are all '17.00? When's that? 7 o'clock?"
11. Are you an early adopter?
Not really, it took me a while to get a mobile phone or my mp3 player. Though I did switch to the new Blogger while it was still in beta. I guess, if it's free then yes. If it costs, then no. Especially since it'll get cheaper very quickly!
12. Do you have any genetic quirks?
I can roll my tongue. I'm left-handed, which is apparently even rarer in females.
13. What would you do if you won the jackpot (we'll say £10million) in the Lotto?
Get comfortable... I'd do all the usual stuff; pay off my parents' mortgage, set up my brother (with a secure home etc, not with a boy), buy myself somewhere to live, see my friends right (Lesley would get a holiday home in the south of France or Tuscany or somewhere also warm, for example), and of course, buy lots and lots of pretty shoes. Imelda would be envious of me. The silliest thing I would do though, would be go to my bank and withdraw a couple of thousand in cash, used (but clean, this is vital) £10 notes for preference, spread them thickly over the floor and roll about in the pile for a while, possibly sipping pink champagne intermittently. Once finished, I'd put the cash back in the bank and continue as normal.
14. Do you prefer sunshine or moonlight?
Moonlight. Sunshine burns.
15. Are CDs really dead as a format?
Not for me; I don't trust the computer not to crash and lose my collection. I still buy vinyl occasionally, cuz I'm retro like that.
16. Who would be your ideal dinner guest (living or reanimated)?
Seth Green. Cute, funny and geeky, what could be better? Seriously, what?
16a. What would you serve?
Nothing too heavy, and probably takeout. Cooking isn't my strength. He can bring dessert... (apologies for the interruption to the broadcast. Please do not readjust your set, normal service will resume shortly...)
17. Do you prefer to be too hot or too cold?
Too cold. I don't like feeling all clammy, and I can always warm up. I only need to think about dessert with Seth... *fans self*
18. What would you want to be famous for?
Writing a 'laugh-out-loud funny' The Independant insightful and feisty The Guardian novel, written from a female perspective but read by all, in which the women experience the ups and downs of relationships, but end up realising that they don't need a man to be happy. And possibly other things, though I've not thought of what as yet.
19. What's your most irrational pet hate?
Women who wear the wrong size bra. Girls who wear foundation the shade of orange fake tan, but no other make up, so at a distance, they look like they have no features. Honestly, it's creepy.
20. What cheers you up?
My pink leopard bed sheets. Fairy lights. Blowing raspberries on other people's tummies (but not strangers, the police told me to stop it). I Hope You Die by The Bloodhound Gang. Ross Noble. Eddie Izzard. Mike Myers. Robot Chicken. Those rabbit shoes from Office. Unexpected phone calls / emails from friends. Deceptacon by Le Tigre. Jane Says by Jane's Addiction. The Ying Tong Song. Dr. Evil. Fraiser. Dancing like no-one's watching, when no-one's watching.
21. What do you wear in bed?
Tonight, black cotton drawstring trousers and my Dr. Evil t-shirt. Sometimes, short pyjamas. Nightdresses usually try to strangle me in the night. And, excepting special circumstances, always pants.
22. Do you like glitter?
Should I ever be cut open, they'll find glitter and very little else. An ex thought I exuded it, as it kept appearing wherever I'd been.
23. Do you understand the offside rule?
In rugby, just about. In football, pshaw!
24. What's your blood type?
B+ which tickles my irony bone no end.
25. Are you ticklish?
On the soles of my feet, though I tend to kick without restraint when tickled. Consider yourself warned.
26. Do you want (more) children?
No. Quite apart from the fact they'd take valuable shoe money, I just can't see me being a mother.
27. Do you often win things?
No. My brother got all the luck like that, though he never wins money. My odds would be better if I ever entered anything, though.
28. What do you normally drink when you're in the pub?
Jack Daniel's and lemonade, if I don't want to get drunk, or cider when I do. And cocktails when I want to throw up in the bathroom sink.
29. Are you superstitious?
Kind of. Though I get confused with the magpies. Is it when you see them together, or cumulative?
30. Do you want to be buried or cremated?
Cremated, I think. Then I can be mixed with glitter and scattered. Though by then, I won't really need it anymore, so it's up to whoever's left to decide.
31. What question(s) would you add?
I made up 30-odd already! My brain hurtles.... *pout*
Day 1 of the new meds. I am Citalopram Girl! See my cape flutter as I stand with my fists on my hips! Marvel at how I got into that amount of shiny lycra and don't seem to have random bulges! Be struck aghast as I bend my knees in the thigh-high boots that look unforgiving and I don't crack the patent finish! Wonder at how my hair stays immaculate, even while fighting the scourge of depression! Consider asking for my hairdresser's number...
What was in my coffee?
What's in the citalopram, more to the point?
What was in my coffee?
What's in the citalopram, more to the point?
1. What book(s) are you currently reading?
2. What was the last song you heard?
3. Can you play a musical instrument?
4. Which is your favoutrite radio station?
5. Have you ever required a surgical procedure?
6. Are you on any medication just now?
7. Do you have any tattoos?
7a. If yes, what are they and why?
7b. If no, would you and why (not)?
8. Do you give money to charity?
9. Do you believe in anything after death?
10. Do you understand the 24 hour clock?
11. Are you an early adopter?
12. Do you have any genetic quirks?
13. What would you do if you won the jackpot (we'll say £10million) in the Lotto?
14. Do you prefer sunshine or moonlight?
15. Are CDs really dead as a format?
16. Who would be your ideal dinner guest (living or reanimated)?
16a. What would you serve?
17. Do you prefer to be too hot or too cold?
18. What would you want to be famous for?
19. What's your most irrational pet hate?
20. What cheers you up?
21. What do you wear in bed?
22. Do you like glitter?
23. Do you understand the offside rule?
24. What's your blood type?
25. Are you ticklish?
26. Do you want (more) children?
27. Do you often win things?
28. What do you normally drink when you're in the pub?
29. Are you superstitious?
30. Do you want to be buried or cremated?
31. What question(s) would you add?
2. What was the last song you heard?
3. Can you play a musical instrument?
4. Which is your favoutrite radio station?
5. Have you ever required a surgical procedure?
6. Are you on any medication just now?
7. Do you have any tattoos?
7a. If yes, what are they and why?
7b. If no, would you and why (not)?
8. Do you give money to charity?
9. Do you believe in anything after death?
10. Do you understand the 24 hour clock?
11. Are you an early adopter?
12. Do you have any genetic quirks?
13. What would you do if you won the jackpot (we'll say £10million) in the Lotto?
14. Do you prefer sunshine or moonlight?
15. Are CDs really dead as a format?
16. Who would be your ideal dinner guest (living or reanimated)?
16a. What would you serve?
17. Do you prefer to be too hot or too cold?
18. What would you want to be famous for?
19. What's your most irrational pet hate?
20. What cheers you up?
21. What do you wear in bed?
22. Do you like glitter?
23. Do you understand the offside rule?
24. What's your blood type?
25. Are you ticklish?
26. Do you want (more) children?
27. Do you often win things?
28. What do you normally drink when you're in the pub?
29. Are you superstitious?
30. Do you want to be buried or cremated?
31. What question(s) would you add?
The progressive and forward thinking Blogthings has so far told me that I'd be a "cool parent" (wouldn't that necessitate having babies? I suppose I could adopt...), that I appear to be severly depressed (really???), that I'm 52% gross, 60% pure, I have a bit of a dirty mind but am not trashy with it, I'm 88% quirky and that I should look for an Aquarian to fall in love with. I could just carry a mirror wherever I go, as that makes me my perfect person. What can I say? I'm just magnificent.
In other words, none of it has told me anything about myself that I don't already know.
Yup, I'm a grape, with a violet aura, who's commitment-phobic unless it pertains to body art. Nothing new to me, but I bet you learnt something. Hopefully that these meme things are mostly a way to waste time and get really cold fingers on your mouse hand.
Tomorrow, I'll come up with a bunch of random questions to copy-and-paste. Maybe. Unless I spot something shiny.
In other words, none of it has told me anything about myself that I don't already know.
Yup, I'm a grape, with a violet aura, who's commitment-phobic unless it pertains to body art. Nothing new to me, but I bet you learnt something. Hopefully that these meme things are mostly a way to waste time and get really cold fingers on your mouse hand.
Tomorrow, I'll come up with a bunch of random questions to copy-and-paste. Maybe. Unless I spot something shiny.
You Are So Not Ready To Get Married |
 Deep down, you might wonder if marriage will ever be right for you You still have a lot to figure out when it comes to love, life, and making yourself happiest That's okay... take your time. The better you know yourself, the better partner you'll be. And if you really feel panicked from the alter, it's best to take a little time off. |
You Should Get An All Over Tattoo |
 Outrageous and funky Because you should never have to choose just one tattoo |
Your Aura is Violet |
 Idealistic and thoughtful, you have the mind and ideas to change the world. And you have the charisma of a great leader, even if you don't always use it! The purpose of your life: saying truths that other people dare not say Famous purples include: Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., Susan B. Anthony Careers for you to try: Political Activist, Inventor, Life Coach |
Your Personality Is |
 You are both logical and creative. You are full of ideas. You are so rational that you analyze everything. This drives people a little crazy! Intelligence is important to you. You always like to be around smart people. In fact, you're often a little short with people who don't impress you mentally. You seem distant to some - but it's usually because you're deep in thought. Those who understand you best are fellow Rationals. In love, you tend to approach things with logic. You seek a compatible mate - who is also very intelligent. At work, you tend to gravitate toward idea building careers - like programming, medicine, or academia. With others, you are very honest and direct. People often can't take your criticism well. As far as your looks go, you're coasting on what you were born with. You think fashion is silly. On weekends, you spend most of your time thinking, experimenting with new ideas, or learning new things. |
The Keys to Your Heart |
 You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and free. In love, you feel the most alive when your partner is patient and never willing to give up on you. You'd like to your lover to think you are stylish and alluring. You would be forced to break up with someone who was ruthless, cold-blooded, and sarcastic. Your ideal relationship is lasting. You want a relationship that looks to the future... one you can grow with. Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment. You think of marriage as something that will confine you. You are afraid of marriage. In this moment, you think of love as something you can get or discard anytime. You're feeling self centered. |
The Movie Of Your Life Is Film Noir |
 So what if you're a little nihilistic at times? Life with meaning is highly over-rated. Your best movie matches: Sin City, L. A. Confidential, Blade Runner |
You Are Cherry Garcia Ice Cream |
 You're the coolest cat around, but too laid back to let it get to your head |
You Are Grape |
 You are bold and a true individual. You are very different and very okay with that. People know you as a straight shooter. You're very honest, even when the truth hurts. You are also very grounded and practical. No one is going to sneak anything by you. People enjoy your fresh approach to life. And it's this honesty that makes you a very innovative person. |
You Are 36% Scary |
 You scare men off ocassionaly, but only very weak men. You're a normal woman. You're not perfect, but you're pretty darn close. |
1. Have you ever changed your clothes while in a vehicle?
Yes, a few times.
2. Who was your last received call?
Jen, last night.
3. What's your relationship status?
Single, and plan on being so for a while.
4. What's one thing you will NOT eat?
Cooked mushrooms and raspberries tie in first place. Identifiable parts of animals too; I'm trying to cut out animals of any sort.
5. What color is your underwear?
Black, with pink polka dots and a mint green ribbon detail. I get all squinky if it's not a matching set.
6. When is the last time you went out of state?
I'll assume that to mean 'country'; February, when I went to London to train for my last job. I'm not scared of the Underground anymore!
7. What's something you MUST do before you die?
Um... too much pressure... what if I die tomorrow? See the Aurora Borealis.
8. Have you ever drank milk straight out of the carton?
Not being a big fan of milk, I don't think so. I've drank fruit juice straight from the carton, when hungover. One time it can straight back up because it wasn't as fresh as I thought, so I don't do that any more.
9. Can you hula hoop?
Badly. I closely resemble a sack of excited puppies.
10. Can you hopscotch?
Yes, though it's been at least 18 years.
11. Have you ever crawled through a window?
Not that I can recall.
12. Who was your last text message to?
Lesley.
13. What did it say?
"Can't remember! If you're looking for it, search Ross Noble then sort by date added, it's in the first page."
14. Was today better than yesterday?
It's about the same, really. But that's not necessarily a bad thing.
15. How are you feeling?
On the good side of neutral.
16. Do you talk to yourself?
How else would I have conversation? I'm fine until I lose the arguement, I figure.
17. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?
........ Yes, but I really don't think he'd kiss me.
18. Do you collect anything?
Shoes, books, Smashing Pumpkins rarities (when I can afford them), unsuitable boys, matching sets of underwear.
19. Who was the last person you IMed?
Robb.
20. Earrings or necklaces?
Necklaces. I have two that I've linked together that I almost never take off. Both have star pendants (cuz I'm a dreamer, natch) one was my gift for being Karen's bridesmaid and the other was 99p in Barnardo's on Reform St in Dundee. I've only just started wearing earrings again recently.
21. Are you mad at anybody?
No. To quote Lesley, being angry at someone or hating someone is like taking poison yourself and hoping it'll kill them.
22. What is your favorite color(s)?
Purple (like Daddy O shampoo, or Dairy Milk wrappers) and silver. Black is my default shade, though it's not a colour.
23. What are you doing?
Thinking about how I need the loo and should maybe cut down on the coffee. And filling in my answers here.
24. Do you use smiley faces on the computer a lot?
On MSN, from time to time. Sometimes in email.
25. What are you doing tonight?
The usual; reading bits of the books I'm reading just now, listening to music, trying to predict my future and a little verbal sparring with my Mum. All in good fun, of course, though she's still a little slow.
26. What time is it?
17:07, according to the computer clock.
27. Are you loud?
If I'm getting wound up about something, yes. But more often than not, no.
28. What are you looking forward to?
Starting the Rape Crisis training. Learning how to spell 'training' correctly the first time. Getting a job. Moving out. Buying many, many beautiful shoes. Wearing said shoes. Making new friends. Keeping old friends.
29. Do you watch Family Guy regularly?
Not regularly, but occasionally. I like it a lot.
30. Have you ever watched a little kid's show?
Not really since I was a little kid. Though it depends on what you define as a little kid's show.
31. Do you like someone?
Yes.
32. Do they know??
Probably, though it makes no difference.
33. Are you wearing socks?
No. I prefer to be barefoot, but because it's cold I have slippers on just now. I usually have cold feet either way.
34. Are you watching T.V?
Nope, I'm out the habit after living in my last flat in Dundee.
35. If so, what are you watching?
When I do; The Daily Show, Aircrash Investigation, Robot Chicken, Channel 4 News.
37. What's your favorite smell?
Raindrops incense and Tobacco Flower perfume. The Body Shop used to make it years ago. About the time when I made my Hotmail account, hence my address. I also like Nu by YSL and Chanel No. 5, bergamot, neroli and sandalwood.
38. Have you ever been on a roller coaster?
Yes, a disappointingly long time ago.
39. Do you care what others think about you?
Not unless they care what I think about them.
40. What do you do all the time in a car?
Panic that the worst will happen. I'm not going to learn to drive, I'd be too nervous.
41. Do you trust people easily?
Probably.
42. Do you think you'll live to be 30?
Yes, or that gives me 18 months to see the Aurora Borealis!
43. Do you think you'll be married by then?
No. Categorically, no.
45. Who was the last person you called?
Alan.
47. What's your fave song?
Turn My Way by New Order. And Jane Says by Jane's Addiction.
48. Do you have any pets?
No, I'm terrible at looking after living things.
49. What were you doing at 2am last night?
Listening to my favourites playlist, wondering if I'd ever feel sleepy. It doesn't help that about 90% of my favourites are really upbeat and energetic songs.
51. What happened at 10:00 am today?
Many things I was not aware of, being asleep with my head under a pillow and my eyemask on.
53. How many cities/towns have you lived in?
5. As a result, I'm not sure where I'm from (beyond 'Glasgow') or where 'home' really is.
55. Are you a social person?
Yes, though sometimes the thought of being in a room with other people scares me so much I've cried.
56. What was the last thing you drank?
Dad made a cup of tea not long ago.
60. Do you like coffee?
Less 'like', more 'need more than oxygen'.
63. Do you sleep on a certain side of the bed?
Yes, though being in a narrow single just now, both.
64. Do you know how to play poker?
I've a vague idea but no, not really.
65. Do you like to cuddle?
Yes.
66. Do you eat out or at home more often?
At home. I get self-concious when I'm eating around people I don't know.
67. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you?
Not personally. LeVar Burton, though a different year.
68. Are you lonely right now?
No, not just now. Very much alone, but not lonely.
69. Have you ever been in an ambulance?
Yes, once. 10 years ago. I don't remember much about it, though I was fully conscious at the time.
Yes, a few times.
2. Who was your last received call?
Jen, last night.
3. What's your relationship status?
Single, and plan on being so for a while.
4. What's one thing you will NOT eat?
Cooked mushrooms and raspberries tie in first place. Identifiable parts of animals too; I'm trying to cut out animals of any sort.
5. What color is your underwear?
Black, with pink polka dots and a mint green ribbon detail. I get all squinky if it's not a matching set.
6. When is the last time you went out of state?
I'll assume that to mean 'country'; February, when I went to London to train for my last job. I'm not scared of the Underground anymore!
7. What's something you MUST do before you die?
Um... too much pressure... what if I die tomorrow? See the Aurora Borealis.
8. Have you ever drank milk straight out of the carton?
Not being a big fan of milk, I don't think so. I've drank fruit juice straight from the carton, when hungover. One time it can straight back up because it wasn't as fresh as I thought, so I don't do that any more.
9. Can you hula hoop?
Badly. I closely resemble a sack of excited puppies.
10. Can you hopscotch?
Yes, though it's been at least 18 years.
11. Have you ever crawled through a window?
Not that I can recall.
12. Who was your last text message to?
Lesley.
13. What did it say?
"Can't remember! If you're looking for it, search Ross Noble then sort by date added, it's in the first page."
14. Was today better than yesterday?
It's about the same, really. But that's not necessarily a bad thing.
15. How are you feeling?
On the good side of neutral.
16. Do you talk to yourself?
How else would I have conversation? I'm fine until I lose the arguement, I figure.
17. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?
........ Yes, but I really don't think he'd kiss me.
18. Do you collect anything?
Shoes, books, Smashing Pumpkins rarities (when I can afford them), unsuitable boys, matching sets of underwear.
19. Who was the last person you IMed?
Robb.
20. Earrings or necklaces?
Necklaces. I have two that I've linked together that I almost never take off. Both have star pendants (cuz I'm a dreamer, natch) one was my gift for being Karen's bridesmaid and the other was 99p in Barnardo's on Reform St in Dundee. I've only just started wearing earrings again recently.
21. Are you mad at anybody?
No. To quote Lesley, being angry at someone or hating someone is like taking poison yourself and hoping it'll kill them.
22. What is your favorite color(s)?
Purple (like Daddy O shampoo, or Dairy Milk wrappers) and silver. Black is my default shade, though it's not a colour.
23. What are you doing?
Thinking about how I need the loo and should maybe cut down on the coffee. And filling in my answers here.
24. Do you use smiley faces on the computer a lot?
On MSN, from time to time. Sometimes in email.
25. What are you doing tonight?
The usual; reading bits of the books I'm reading just now, listening to music, trying to predict my future and a little verbal sparring with my Mum. All in good fun, of course, though she's still a little slow.
26. What time is it?
17:07, according to the computer clock.
27. Are you loud?
If I'm getting wound up about something, yes. But more often than not, no.
28. What are you looking forward to?
Starting the Rape Crisis training. Learning how to spell 'training' correctly the first time. Getting a job. Moving out. Buying many, many beautiful shoes. Wearing said shoes. Making new friends. Keeping old friends.
29. Do you watch Family Guy regularly?
Not regularly, but occasionally. I like it a lot.
30. Have you ever watched a little kid's show?
Not really since I was a little kid. Though it depends on what you define as a little kid's show.
31. Do you like someone?
Yes.
32. Do they know??
Probably, though it makes no difference.
33. Are you wearing socks?
No. I prefer to be barefoot, but because it's cold I have slippers on just now. I usually have cold feet either way.
34. Are you watching T.V?
Nope, I'm out the habit after living in my last flat in Dundee.
35. If so, what are you watching?
When I do; The Daily Show, Aircrash Investigation, Robot Chicken, Channel 4 News.
37. What's your favorite smell?
Raindrops incense and Tobacco Flower perfume. The Body Shop used to make it years ago. About the time when I made my Hotmail account, hence my address. I also like Nu by YSL and Chanel No. 5, bergamot, neroli and sandalwood.
38. Have you ever been on a roller coaster?
Yes, a disappointingly long time ago.
39. Do you care what others think about you?
Not unless they care what I think about them.
40. What do you do all the time in a car?
Panic that the worst will happen. I'm not going to learn to drive, I'd be too nervous.
41. Do you trust people easily?
Probably.
42. Do you think you'll live to be 30?
Yes, or that gives me 18 months to see the Aurora Borealis!
43. Do you think you'll be married by then?
No. Categorically, no.
45. Who was the last person you called?
Alan.
47. What's your fave song?
Turn My Way by New Order. And Jane Says by Jane's Addiction.
48. Do you have any pets?
No, I'm terrible at looking after living things.
49. What were you doing at 2am last night?
Listening to my favourites playlist, wondering if I'd ever feel sleepy. It doesn't help that about 90% of my favourites are really upbeat and energetic songs.
51. What happened at 10:00 am today?
Many things I was not aware of, being asleep with my head under a pillow and my eyemask on.
53. How many cities/towns have you lived in?
5. As a result, I'm not sure where I'm from (beyond 'Glasgow') or where 'home' really is.
55. Are you a social person?
Yes, though sometimes the thought of being in a room with other people scares me so much I've cried.
56. What was the last thing you drank?
Dad made a cup of tea not long ago.
60. Do you like coffee?
Less 'like', more 'need more than oxygen'.
63. Do you sleep on a certain side of the bed?
Yes, though being in a narrow single just now, both.
64. Do you know how to play poker?
I've a vague idea but no, not really.
65. Do you like to cuddle?
Yes.
66. Do you eat out or at home more often?
At home. I get self-concious when I'm eating around people I don't know.
67. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you?
Not personally. LeVar Burton, though a different year.
68. Are you lonely right now?
No, not just now. Very much alone, but not lonely.
69. Have you ever been in an ambulance?
Yes, once. 10 years ago. I don't remember much about it, though I was fully conscious at the time.
A bit forced in places, but still entertaining. This is the song of my dream, btw. Though I got the words right then.
Jen phoned. That's the first time we've spoken on the phone in at least 4 years. I can't quite believe I've known her that long; I'm usually hopeless at keeping in touch with people. There's only a small handful of people I've actively ended the friendship with, more often than not it's just that I've moved (or they've moved) and it just sort of tails off. I'm extremely lucky though, to have had the friends I've had. Even if I have nothing more to say to some of them, they were there for a while and did have some value to me. Now I sound like I just use people up then spit them out when there's nothing left... I've no doubt that there will be at least one person who'd say that, and if pressed, I could provide a name and geographic location to within 30 miles! Does anyone else look at their past and feel like they're watching a movie? I can't be the only one, that'd be like saying there's only life on Earth. Maybe that's got something to do with the drift; as more things get further away in time, they feel less and less real, so the people that were there become less and less real too. And it's all subject to how I remember it as well. The chronic lack of self-esteem plays it's part. The people I've lost touch with must be having a wonderful time because I'm not there. How could anyone really like me? Surely they saw through the pretence? As for exes, none of them could possibly have loved me, as I'm so clearly unlovable. Nobody, but nobody really wants me around, especially when I feel down. So I put on the Hallowe'en mask and get on with it.
If that comes across as a subtle plea for comments to reassure me and shore up the wobbly self-esteem, I promise it's not. I know it's not really true. Jen phoned, right? Lesley stays in touch, and asked me to come visit soon. I'm meeting up with Debs this week. Chris is dragging me out by my hair very soon. I might even be meeting Ben for a caffeinated beverage in the none-too-distant (though the jury's still out on whether we really can be friends or not). On that one, I can't quite decide whether to make an effort with my appearance or really make an effort with my appearance. Not because I want him back (hey, I just cheered myself up with that thought! *wipes away a tear*) but because I'm a terribly flawed and vain human and want him to have a second's thought of "Damn." There's only one person I dream about making meaningful eye-contact with (if I said virtually any other mode of contact, I've dreamt of plenty!) and I can swear, on all I hold dear (my Walkman, my shoe collection, The Aeroplane Flies High, my signed Babylon 5 script [that the late Rick Biggs gave me], my glitter lamp, my sleeping mask, my ghd's, my mobile phone, my satin Demonia shoes that are actually a size too small, my loose purple glitter from B Never Too Busy To Be Beautiful, my Dr. Evil action figure, my New Rocks even if I can't really wear them anymore, my pot of Gorgeous moisturiser, my eyelash curlers and mascara, my Lip Service PVC coat that has pink and red fun fur cuffs and collar, my tattoos [present and planned], my pink leopard bed set, my feely zebra top, my PVC ballgown, my top hat, my I'm quite a Goth really, aren't I?, Mum's copy of Sgt. Pepper's on the original vinyl, my copy of Pisces Iscariot that you can see in my profile photo, my growing collection of fairy lights [especially the Hello Kitty ones], my favourite books [which I'm not going to list as I need to sleep sometime]), that it's not Ben!
If that comes across as a subtle plea for comments to reassure me and shore up the wobbly self-esteem, I promise it's not. I know it's not really true. Jen phoned, right? Lesley stays in touch, and asked me to come visit soon. I'm meeting up with Debs this week. Chris is dragging me out by my hair very soon. I might even be meeting Ben for a caffeinated beverage in the none-too-distant (though the jury's still out on whether we really can be friends or not). On that one, I can't quite decide whether to make an effort with my appearance or really make an effort with my appearance. Not because I want him back (hey, I just cheered myself up with that thought! *wipes away a tear*) but because I'm a terribly flawed and vain human and want him to have a second's thought of "Damn." There's only one person I dream about making meaningful eye-contact with (if I said virtually any other mode of contact, I've dreamt of plenty!) and I can swear, on all I hold dear (my Walkman, my shoe collection, The Aeroplane Flies High, my signed Babylon 5 script [that the late Rick Biggs gave me], my glitter lamp, my sleeping mask, my ghd's, my mobile phone, my satin Demonia shoes that are actually a size too small, my loose purple glitter from B Never Too Busy To Be Beautiful, my Dr. Evil action figure, my New Rocks even if I can't really wear them anymore, my pot of Gorgeous moisturiser, my eyelash curlers and mascara, my Lip Service PVC coat that has pink and red fun fur cuffs and collar, my tattoos [present and planned], my pink leopard bed set, my feely zebra top, my PVC ballgown, my top hat, my I'm quite a Goth really, aren't I?, Mum's copy of Sgt. Pepper's on the original vinyl, my copy of Pisces Iscariot that you can see in my profile photo, my growing collection of fairy lights [especially the Hello Kitty ones], my favourite books [which I'm not going to list as I need to sleep sometime]), that it's not Ben!
In the shower, I found myself singing Kiddy Grinder, by Marilyn Manson. Perfect accompaniment to daily ablutions, I think you'll find.
I had a vivid and quite prolonged dream about Till Lindemann, the singer in Rammstein. Somewhat bemusing, as he's not my type. In any way. The really odd thing is, the last thing I remember before falling asleep was thinking about how attractive Billy Corgan is. It's probably safe to say I'll be slapping on my first patch in the next few days. The South African rugby team made quite an impression on me on Friday evening, and not just because they so humiliated England. (The ITV post-match coverage was hysterical; mostly adverts.)
Anyway. Kiddy Grinder is still in my head so I'm going to go listen to it and sing along until it gets replaced by something else. If you're unfamiliar with it, I'd suggest downloading it. It's ideal music for a leisurely Sunday afternoon. I hate what I have become to escape what I hate in me...
I had a vivid and quite prolonged dream about Till Lindemann, the singer in Rammstein. Somewhat bemusing, as he's not my type. In any way. The really odd thing is, the last thing I remember before falling asleep was thinking about how attractive Billy Corgan is. It's probably safe to say I'll be slapping on my first patch in the next few days. The South African rugby team made quite an impression on me on Friday evening, and not just because they so humiliated England. (The ITV post-match coverage was hysterical; mostly adverts.)
Anyway. Kiddy Grinder is still in my head so I'm going to go listen to it and sing along until it gets replaced by something else. If you're unfamiliar with it, I'd suggest downloading it. It's ideal music for a leisurely Sunday afternoon. I hate what I have become to escape what I hate in me...
How fabulous are these shoes? Would I wear them? Hell, yes! Just not on a rainy day. They might shrink. And they'd get very heavy. Given that I can only wear my New Rocks for about an hour at a time, that could be risky. (It's my knees, you see. Something about lax tendons.) Once I am in gainful (ok, paid) employment, I think I'll have to get a pair. Cheaper than a Shetland pony, for sure. (Maybe you had to be at the Ross Noble show in Edinburgh for that to make sense... Basically, no-one can stay angry or depressed when they have a Shetland pony; you look at it and it cheers you up every time.) Seriously, how could anyone be miserable with them on their feet? I should lobby for a pair on the NHS! How would I avoid shouted abuse in public? Easy. That's why god invented mp3 players and earphones that block out all outside noise. As I'd be walking up the street wearing bunnies on my feet and mouthing along to whatever I was listening to at the time, no-one would approach me, so I'd be safe in my ignorance. I just hope that not too many other folks look at them and think the same things, I'd look like a dreadful fashion victim otherwise. (Whereas normally, I usually just look dreadful.) It's the teeth on the toe (and there aren't many shoes you can say that about) that get me... too cute!
The Pumpkins song in my dream the other night was 7 Shades Of Black, I think. Appropriate, really, now that I've read the lyrics.
I either have terrible PMS or food poisoning, I feel awful. And like the Michelin man.
Finally listened to Volume 1 (Fear Of Pop) all the way through. It's delightfully off-kilter. When I read the song titles and saw Root To This, I paused to wonder if it meant 'root' as in the Australian verb. It does. Ross Noble: entertaining and educational. Who'dathunk? Still In Love is wonderful; it's a continuation of In Love, which is one of my favourite songs (in the top 10 I think) and the song I purchased the album for. Sooo not disappointed. But in quite a lot of pain here. I'm not so sure that salmon was good after all. Either that or I'm reacting very badly to the Angel Delight I ate yesterday. I knew I should've left it longer to set...
I either have terrible PMS or food poisoning, I feel awful. And like the Michelin man.
Finally listened to Volume 1 (Fear Of Pop) all the way through. It's delightfully off-kilter. When I read the song titles and saw Root To This, I paused to wonder if it meant 'root' as in the Australian verb. It does. Ross Noble: entertaining and educational. Who'dathunk? Still In Love is wonderful; it's a continuation of In Love, which is one of my favourite songs (in the top 10 I think) and the song I purchased the album for. Sooo not disappointed. But in quite a lot of pain here. I'm not so sure that salmon was good after all. Either that or I'm reacting very badly to the Angel Delight I ate yesterday. I knew I should've left it longer to set...
Blog title of the day (if not the month): My Toilet Epiphanies. Eat more fibre?
2am is not a good time to be awake, unless you're far away from your bed. It's even worse when you have realised just what it is you destroyed and go on to torture yourself with what that could have become. I know all the arguements against that kind of thinking and I know I'm making it more than it could have been in my head. I know that if someone loved me, truely loved me, they would not have run at the first sign of trouble. But I can't stop myself feeling like this (I've tried so hard) and I can't stop myself from seeing things from the other side. For someone who said he was so selfish, it was a selfless act. He didn't want to hurt me. I wish for a lot of things, even things I know can't ever come true, but right now, I wish to stop feeling like this. I would happily never feel anything ever again, if only this would stop.
Don't mind me; I'm exhausted. When I finally slept, my dreams were full of spiders and Quentin Tarantino was in one. Suffice to say; Blogger appears to be instrucing me in German and I'm not completely sure it's really on the screen. I don't even know what Tastaturkürzel means.
2am is not a good time to be awake, unless you're far away from your bed. It's even worse when you have realised just what it is you destroyed and go on to torture yourself with what that could have become. I know all the arguements against that kind of thinking and I know I'm making it more than it could have been in my head. I know that if someone loved me, truely loved me, they would not have run at the first sign of trouble. But I can't stop myself feeling like this (I've tried so hard) and I can't stop myself from seeing things from the other side. For someone who said he was so selfish, it was a selfless act. He didn't want to hurt me. I wish for a lot of things, even things I know can't ever come true, but right now, I wish to stop feeling like this. I would happily never feel anything ever again, if only this would stop.
Don't mind me; I'm exhausted. When I finally slept, my dreams were full of spiders and Quentin Tarantino was in one. Suffice to say; Blogger appears to be instrucing me in German and I'm not completely sure it's really on the screen. I don't even know what Tastaturkürzel means.
It's not the best picture of me, though I have seen worse. Anyway, that's the new dress. It's a little shorter than I was expecting, it's almost knee length but not quite. And I tried it with my zigzag bra on; the zip doesn't even do up! Probably just as well, I'd cause accidents otherwise.
The dress arrived and it fits. But my phone won't upload the photo to Blogger, so you'll just have to wait until I smash it with a hammer. The phone, I mean. Or at least, threaten to. But don't tell the phone that.
In the meantime, I'm going to dash out to the postbox. I say dash, I mean saunter. I don't do anything above a speedy walk. Even if it does rain. In fact, let it rain. I don't mind. I have a pretty dress to change into when I get home. Sounds like you're a particularly feminine Transformer now... More than meets the eye!
---
I had a strange dream last night. I was at the V festival, I'm not sure if it was Leeds or Reading. Somehow, I'd won a ticket to go, and so saw the Pumpkins. Because it was the festival that has been and gone this year. That I didn't go to. The Pumpkins played a song that made me cry my heart out. At the time, I recognised it from Zeitgeist and knew the words. Right now, I haven't a clue what it was and I barely know the words for Tarantula (even more than Stand Inside Your Love, this song describes the relationship that I dream about) or Doomsday Clock. And the irritating thing I realised on waking? I didn't get to speak to Billy. What am I doing to myself??
In the meantime, I'm going to dash out to the postbox. I say dash, I mean saunter. I don't do anything above a speedy walk. Even if it does rain. In fact, let it rain. I don't mind. I have a pretty dress to change into when I get home. Sounds like you're a particularly feminine Transformer now... More than meets the eye!
---
I had a strange dream last night. I was at the V festival, I'm not sure if it was Leeds or Reading. Somehow, I'd won a ticket to go, and so saw the Pumpkins. Because it was the festival that has been and gone this year. That I didn't go to. The Pumpkins played a song that made me cry my heart out. At the time, I recognised it from Zeitgeist and knew the words. Right now, I haven't a clue what it was and I barely know the words for Tarantula (even more than Stand Inside Your Love, this song describes the relationship that I dream about) or Doomsday Clock. And the irritating thing I realised on waking? I didn't get to speak to Billy. What am I doing to myself??
Hah! Take that, beautiful-shoe-on-eBay-last-second-outbidders! I have bested you this time! The shoes are mine! MINE!! Except, if you're actually the person I outbid, I'm reeeally sorry. I feel your pain, really I do. All MINE!!! So very sorry... Nothing personal, promise. Turquoise leopard print. They really are quite lovely, and I'll have to intercept the postie before Dad can see! And all for the bargainous price of about £7. Nice.
The dress-which-might-yet-not-fit should be arriving tomorrow, too.
I'm soon going to be all dressed up purdy, with nowhere to go.
The dress-which-might-yet-not-fit should be arriving tomorrow, too.
I'm soon going to be all dressed up purdy, with nowhere to go.
The interview was possibly the shortest I've ever been to. 5 minutes, 10 tops. It was worth it though; when I got on the train, I had a flick through a disintegrating copy of Metro, to read the the Nemi. There was also a job being advertised that I've applied for, in the civil service. If I'm successful, it's more money than a shop job; I've been told they do something called a pension (apparently they're handy if you get old); and most appealingly, I'd have most weekends off, so no conflict (hopefully!) with the training. Chris is applying too, I think, so that could be fun. The closing date is next Friday, so I'll probably not hear much before then. More than any other job I've gone for in the past year, I feel like I could get this one. And, as long as I have the voluntary work, I'll be doing something useful and valuable. Everyone's a winner. Including the civil service, coz I like to do a job as well as I can, irrespective of what it is. And, well, I'm just wunnerful.
I'm so happy! I've been offered a place on the training proper for Rape Crisis. Of course, I accepted. Iain will never win. He might think he's got away with what he did, but he hasn't. He battered me, but he did not break me. He will never break me. And for that reason, I know I can help other women, though it is daunting. I'm scared of letting someone down when they're vulnerable and need help, but it's hugely unlikely that could happen. If nothing else, the training sounds pretty intensive and the support network at the centre is like walking into a big hug every time.
It feels pretty good to not be rejected for something, especially something that I really, really want to do. And, should I somehow get a job soon, the training schedule should actually not conflict too much with work.
I have another interview tomorrow morning. It's unlikely I'll be successful, but it's something to do, isn't it? That said, maybe everything will suddenly start to go my way now. If that flat appears on LettingWeb again, I'll know that it is! It's about a year since I left Dundee, and all the shit with Ben's cheating and the accusations made against him, and everything that happened then. I really hope that it's over and done with and things will start to pick up again. I've just started the every-other-day stage of the sertraline, Tuesday I start with the shiny new pills (they're not really shiny) and I really feel that this time, I will take them properly. I'm so tired of being at the mercy of depression and not knowing how I'll feel from one day to the next. Anyway. It ends here. I'm taking back my life. Rar, grrrl power and stuff. Don't steal my crown before it's won.
It feels pretty good to not be rejected for something, especially something that I really, really want to do. And, should I somehow get a job soon, the training schedule should actually not conflict too much with work.
I have another interview tomorrow morning. It's unlikely I'll be successful, but it's something to do, isn't it? That said, maybe everything will suddenly start to go my way now. If that flat appears on LettingWeb again, I'll know that it is! It's about a year since I left Dundee, and all the shit with Ben's cheating and the accusations made against him, and everything that happened then. I really hope that it's over and done with and things will start to pick up again. I've just started the every-other-day stage of the sertraline, Tuesday I start with the shiny new pills (they're not really shiny) and I really feel that this time, I will take them properly. I'm so tired of being at the mercy of depression and not knowing how I'll feel from one day to the next. Anyway. It ends here. I'm taking back my life. Rar, grrrl power and stuff. Don't steal my crown before it's won.
Another day, another rejection letter. I wasn't surprised; if it's a letter it's not good news and if it's over week, all hope is dead. Mum thinks I should apply for jobs that require less experience than I have. Never mind that I've tried that once and been told I'm over-qualified. Maybe I should change the job title on my CV from Trainee Manager to Senior Supervisor. That is effectively what I was, especially towards the end. This whole job hunt thing isn't really doing my self-confidence much good. It was quite shaky when I left Dundee and it hasn't got much better since then. It's starting to feel like I'll never get a job.
But Fear of Pop finally arrived.
But Fear of Pop finally arrived.
The protest wasn't quite what it could have been; there wasn't enough time to get much organised, though plenty people from women's groups were there. And more police than was strictly necessary. There was even a helicopter circling. Madness. Amazingly enough, Amazon aren't referring to the Rapist Number 1 action figure by that name anymore. Can't imagine why. Though it's first up if you search from the front page using only the word 'rapist'. I'm kind of glad that the stuff I bought last week was from other sellers, not Amazon directly. Their response to complaints from Rape Crisis was that their customers make informed decisions about these things, and would continue to stock it. Two things to bear in mind; things like this trivialise rape, which is a crime; many people have false perceptions of rape, such as it happens to other people, it's only sick monsters who leap out of bushes that do it (not forgetting the small percentage that think that the woman did something to cause the attack). So, no. They're not making informed decisions. The Sun (and other tabloid media) is not a reliable source. In fact, pretty much all media are fairly unreliable when it comes to reporting rape as it really is. Stranger rape is far more newsworthy than date rape, or rape within a long-term relationship. I heard a report on the radio on Friday about a hospital in the Congo that has been set up to aid women who have been raped by enemy soldiers there. I can't remember the specific details, as my memory is taken up by the descriptions of the horror visited upon these women in the name of war. Many (and we're talking hundreds) have been gang-raped, then bayonetted in their vaginas. Some have been shot in the vagina. Some of those women have somehow survived. One woman was gang-raped by 4 men in the blood of her 2 children and husband, who had been killed by the men prior to the assault. She now has AIDS.
Do excuse me, I'm speechless with fury here.
Sometimes, I wish I was omnipotent. Then guns wouldn't and couldn't exist, no child would ever have been or be abused, no-one would have been or would be raped. The climate would also not be going crazy and oil would not be the driving force behind so many political desicions. On a personal level, I'd've written my book and I'd have a house just for shoes. A big house. And a lot of shoes. And a less wobbly tummy. And more shoes.
That seems to have done the trick, I'm seeing lots of fairy lights now...
Do excuse me, I'm speechless with fury here.
Sometimes, I wish I was omnipotent. Then guns wouldn't and couldn't exist, no child would ever have been or be abused, no-one would have been or would be raped. The climate would also not be going crazy and oil would not be the driving force behind so many political desicions. On a personal level, I'd've written my book and I'd have a house just for shoes. A big house. And a lot of shoes. And a less wobbly tummy. And more shoes.
That seems to have done the trick, I'm seeing lots of fairy lights now...
All I want is to protest against gender-based violence as a form of entertainment. Is it too much to ask of public transport timetables to cooperate? So much for grabbing coffee on the way. Anyway. Woot! My first protest. And to think I was unsure. Then I realised, swap women with any actual minority group...
It could just be raging paranoia, but I think I'm being ignored. I emailed an old friend a while ago, suggesting meeting up. I have to stop pushing everyone away, contact with people keeps me sane, so I'm trying to make the effort. Anyway, I think this person thinks that I'm playing some game and trying to use him to get at my most recent ex. Or that he has warned off the old friend. If that really had been my motivation, fair enough. Nothing could be further from the truth. I just want to catch up with someone I haven't seen for years. It wouldn't really help me in attaining my goal of getting 'better' to revisit that relationship. I barely spoke to him, about anything that really mattered to me and the whole thing was very much on terms dictated by him. I'm not some little woman who will be grateful for whatever spare attention a man shows her. He said something about me 'needing someone who would look after' me. I'm (usually) perfectly capable of looking after myself, thank you. Call me crazy, but I want someone who will treat me with respect and as an equal. Who likes me as I am, and doesn't set about destroying my self-confidence or trying to make me a 'better person'. I am not what he wanted me to be, he is not what I wanted him to be. And I am not what he seems to think I am now. Such a high opinion he holds of himself...
I feel strangely tired today. I had plenty sleep last night, as well. It's funny how time passes so slowly, but it flies past. My perspective is somewhat distorted, I think. It's nearly a year since Steve died and it feels like no time at all, yet it feels like aeons since I left Dundee. Moving forward...
Years ago, I was told that, if the finding for your necklace moved, someone was thinking about you. Today, mine have been at the front mostly, even though I have moved it back a few times. It'd be nice to think that someone was thinking about me (and as I recall, it's someone with a romantic interest) but I sincerely doubt it.
---
I get the strangest feeling something's going to change within the next few days. Maybe something relating to work. Another interview might be arranged. Knowing my luck, it will and I'll get the job and it'll piss all over the training schedule for Rape Crisis. Or I'll be incredibly lucky and they'll (whoever 'they' might be) offer me a job and let me away for 12 Saturdays. Stranger things have happened. The other thing I want to happen... well, I'll see a shaved monkey on a unicylce, wearing a little red trilby at a jaunty angle, playing Waltzing Matilda on an accordian first. In another version of reality, it's very likely (the thing, not the monkey. That's another version of reality, involving blotting paper). In yet another reality, it doesn't need to happen because the first event never took place. In yet another, more distant version of reality, I have a troupe of performing monkeys, all shaven and wearing hats, playing a variety of instruments. Other-me calls it The Orchestra of Shaven Monkeys on Unicycles or Lookit The Monkeys! They play mostly Andy Williams and Henry Mancini numbers, though other-me has them learning a bit of Burt Bacharach, for a change. Other-me also has a huge bill for bananas. And shaving cream. Other-me is close personal friends with Ross Noble.
Oh, yeah, one bit from last night that I loved. He was talking about how people in shops will say 'Have a nice day' and how that's a good thing as it's achievable. Someone recently wished him "Have a great day" which he wasn't so keen on, as it's too much pressure. To paraphrase (because I can't quite remember word for word):
A nice day is going to the zoo, wearing a pair of comfortable trousers, watching the monkeys, the sound of children's laughter in the air. A great day would be going to the zoo, wearing a comfortable pair of trousers, watching the monkeys attack the children.
I may have expectorated on the lady in front of me. I don't feel so bad about that though, she and her companion were all huggy in the interval. And when I say expectorated... Well, I did take tissues and I did need to use them because I was laughing so hard my nose was running. Under usual circumstances, I'd be worried about karmic retribution, but not this time. The universe has quite a debt to pay off. Says she that'll be hit by the bus she tries to catch tomorrow... I've done all I can to regarding my shameful behaviour. I've attempted to apologise. I doubt I'll ever know if it was even received, but at least I tried. All I can do now is let it go. I'm getting there. It's up to fate or whatever higher power is in charge this week what happens next.
The flat I was daydreaming about isn't listed on LettingWeb anymore, so it's probably been leased. I'm not too sad about it to be honest. It would have been a fantastically long walk into town, and therefore any place of work. Some dreams will never be reality, but it's nice to indulge from time to time. Hello, Seth Green... *sigh*
Years ago, I was told that, if the finding for your necklace moved, someone was thinking about you. Today, mine have been at the front mostly, even though I have moved it back a few times. It'd be nice to think that someone was thinking about me (and as I recall, it's someone with a romantic interest) but I sincerely doubt it.
---
I get the strangest feeling something's going to change within the next few days. Maybe something relating to work. Another interview might be arranged. Knowing my luck, it will and I'll get the job and it'll piss all over the training schedule for Rape Crisis. Or I'll be incredibly lucky and they'll (whoever 'they' might be) offer me a job and let me away for 12 Saturdays. Stranger things have happened. The other thing I want to happen... well, I'll see a shaved monkey on a unicylce, wearing a little red trilby at a jaunty angle, playing Waltzing Matilda on an accordian first. In another version of reality, it's very likely (the thing, not the monkey. That's another version of reality, involving blotting paper). In yet another reality, it doesn't need to happen because the first event never took place. In yet another, more distant version of reality, I have a troupe of performing monkeys, all shaven and wearing hats, playing a variety of instruments. Other-me calls it The Orchestra of Shaven Monkeys on Unicycles or Lookit The Monkeys! They play mostly Andy Williams and Henry Mancini numbers, though other-me has them learning a bit of Burt Bacharach, for a change. Other-me also has a huge bill for bananas. And shaving cream. Other-me is close personal friends with Ross Noble.
Oh, yeah, one bit from last night that I loved. He was talking about how people in shops will say 'Have a nice day' and how that's a good thing as it's achievable. Someone recently wished him "Have a great day" which he wasn't so keen on, as it's too much pressure. To paraphrase (because I can't quite remember word for word):
A nice day is going to the zoo, wearing a pair of comfortable trousers, watching the monkeys, the sound of children's laughter in the air. A great day would be going to the zoo, wearing a comfortable pair of trousers, watching the monkeys attack the children.
I may have expectorated on the lady in front of me. I don't feel so bad about that though, she and her companion were all huggy in the interval. And when I say expectorated... Well, I did take tissues and I did need to use them because I was laughing so hard my nose was running. Under usual circumstances, I'd be worried about karmic retribution, but not this time. The universe has quite a debt to pay off. Says she that'll be hit by the bus she tries to catch tomorrow... I've done all I can to regarding my shameful behaviour. I've attempted to apologise. I doubt I'll ever know if it was even received, but at least I tried. All I can do now is let it go. I'm getting there. It's up to fate or whatever higher power is in charge this week what happens next.
The flat I was daydreaming about isn't listed on LettingWeb anymore, so it's probably been leased. I'm not too sad about it to be honest. It would have been a fantastically long walk into town, and therefore any place of work. Some dreams will never be reality, but it's nice to indulge from time to time. Hello, Seth Green... *sigh*
More days should be like yesterday. Not all of them, I'd be exhausted in a week. Just, say 2 or 3 out of every 10. Give or take.
I couldn't sleep on Friday night, I was convinced I'd sleep in really badly and then as I was finally drifting off, a fragment of a song burst into my head. I knew I knew it, but couldn't remember what it was. Eventually I remembered that it was With Or Without You by U2. By that time I was awake, so thanks Bono. It was the section that goes "And you give yourself away, and you give, you give, you give yourself away" which made me wonder; is the lampshade on my head not enough of a disguise?
Mum and Dad were up while it might have still be dark to go to some walk thing in the Borders (near Kelso, not the non-fiction section), and their thumping and crashing woke me. Quite why they had to take the family elephant, or make it go down the stairs backwards, I'll never know. It's never a good idea to ask. Anyway. As a result, I was up bright and early and left the house about the time I was planning to. Got to the bus stop and checked the timetable. Ok, so weekend services don't run on the same schedule as weekday services, but there's no bus to East Kilbride between 7.50am and 9.10am. It defies logic, in my opinion, but it really annoys me that, if the bus I got after 9 left about 10 minutes earlier, I might have got the train I wanted to catch and I wouldn't have been late to the Rape Crisis training thing. But I also now know that I can walk quite fast and keep it up for a reasonable distance. Unlike when I run (I get about 20 yards then have to stop to vomit).
The training thing was eye-opening. The whole place has a very positive atmosphere, and I enjoyed the day. Not to say it was fun or a barrel of laughs, that's not quite right. I'd say that the feeling is, in general, that rape and abuse survivors are starting from a position way behind where they should be, because of people and social preconceptions and prejudices, and that, in addition to helping the survivors, Rape Crisis wants to challenge the attitudes people have and is hopeful that it can be done. Some dry statistics; 1 in 3 women have had unwanted sexual contact. 1 in 2 young men (aged 14-25) thought that is was acceptable to force a woman to have sex, depending on the circumstances. 1 in 3 young women thought that it is acceptable to force a woman to have sex, depending on the circumstances.
After the training session was done, I had a headache. It's been a while since I've been in a situation where I've been fully engaged for hours at a time. It's a good feeling, and it made me feel a bit better about buying Urban Decay make up. Then I sat in George Square for about an hour, waiting for Alan. There was a bunch of amplified Christians there, waving flags and wearing yellow sweatshirts. I'm not sure what else they were doing, I turned up Marilyn Manson and stuck my nose in my book. Oddly enough, the one with the clipboard walked straight past me.
Alan turned up, drove past me and had to come back round the square and picked me up. I really have to stop getting into his car, he terrifies me at least once every time I do. Anyway, this time he had the tickets for Ross Noble and I didn't have another way of getting there so easily. It was really great to see Lesley and Al again, it's been too long. The show itself was fantastic, I got a sore neck from laughing. I thought I might pass out too, I got so light headed on occasions. At least twice, I nearly ruptured something, I was laughing silently so hard. I wish I was going to the show in Glasgow tonight, but I'm not that organised.
The only down point to it was the couples who felt they had to be touchy-feely. I don't care for that at the best of times, last night I just wanted to flick their ears. I feel quite unlovable just now, so please don't flaunt the fact that you are in my face quite so blatantly, thank you. My only solace is that, while making doe-eyes at one another, they may have walked out in front of a runaway bus and be squashed under the 1 to Ocean Terminal. Yes, all of them.
I couldn't sleep on Friday night, I was convinced I'd sleep in really badly and then as I was finally drifting off, a fragment of a song burst into my head. I knew I knew it, but couldn't remember what it was. Eventually I remembered that it was With Or Without You by U2. By that time I was awake, so thanks Bono. It was the section that goes "And you give yourself away, and you give, you give, you give yourself away" which made me wonder; is the lampshade on my head not enough of a disguise?
Mum and Dad were up while it might have still be dark to go to some walk thing in the Borders (near Kelso, not the non-fiction section), and their thumping and crashing woke me. Quite why they had to take the family elephant, or make it go down the stairs backwards, I'll never know. It's never a good idea to ask. Anyway. As a result, I was up bright and early and left the house about the time I was planning to. Got to the bus stop and checked the timetable. Ok, so weekend services don't run on the same schedule as weekday services, but there's no bus to East Kilbride between 7.50am and 9.10am. It defies logic, in my opinion, but it really annoys me that, if the bus I got after 9 left about 10 minutes earlier, I might have got the train I wanted to catch and I wouldn't have been late to the Rape Crisis training thing. But I also now know that I can walk quite fast and keep it up for a reasonable distance. Unlike when I run (I get about 20 yards then have to stop to vomit).
The training thing was eye-opening. The whole place has a very positive atmosphere, and I enjoyed the day. Not to say it was fun or a barrel of laughs, that's not quite right. I'd say that the feeling is, in general, that rape and abuse survivors are starting from a position way behind where they should be, because of people and social preconceptions and prejudices, and that, in addition to helping the survivors, Rape Crisis wants to challenge the attitudes people have and is hopeful that it can be done. Some dry statistics; 1 in 3 women have had unwanted sexual contact. 1 in 2 young men (aged 14-25) thought that is was acceptable to force a woman to have sex, depending on the circumstances. 1 in 3 young women thought that it is acceptable to force a woman to have sex, depending on the circumstances.
After the training session was done, I had a headache. It's been a while since I've been in a situation where I've been fully engaged for hours at a time. It's a good feeling, and it made me feel a bit better about buying Urban Decay make up. Then I sat in George Square for about an hour, waiting for Alan. There was a bunch of amplified Christians there, waving flags and wearing yellow sweatshirts. I'm not sure what else they were doing, I turned up Marilyn Manson and stuck my nose in my book. Oddly enough, the one with the clipboard walked straight past me.
Alan turned up, drove past me and had to come back round the square and picked me up. I really have to stop getting into his car, he terrifies me at least once every time I do. Anyway, this time he had the tickets for Ross Noble and I didn't have another way of getting there so easily. It was really great to see Lesley and Al again, it's been too long. The show itself was fantastic, I got a sore neck from laughing. I thought I might pass out too, I got so light headed on occasions. At least twice, I nearly ruptured something, I was laughing silently so hard. I wish I was going to the show in Glasgow tonight, but I'm not that organised.
The only down point to it was the couples who felt they had to be touchy-feely. I don't care for that at the best of times, last night I just wanted to flick their ears. I feel quite unlovable just now, so please don't flaunt the fact that you are in my face quite so blatantly, thank you. My only solace is that, while making doe-eyes at one another, they may have walked out in front of a runaway bus and be squashed under the 1 to Ocean Terminal. Yes, all of them.
Chris had better text me sometime tomorrow. I still don't know if he can make it to Ross Noble, and I'm kind of out of options for finding someone (anyone) else. I'm out all day tomorrow, at the first Rape Crisis information training session thing. I have to get the bus at 8.30am. How fantastic. Especially since I've been waking up at about 10.30 or so this week.
Mum is in a mood with me, because I haven't become psychic in the past few months. Not literally. The downside to living at home. Is it worth being able to buy CDs of lullaby versions of rock songs? Ask again once I've got the CD and listened to it a couple of times. Fairy lights... fairy lights... go to your happy place... listen to the Bloodhound Gang...
There's a growing possibility I'll be back in Azeroth soonish. The PC that has an AGP slot has been set up and is ready to go, I just need to install the game (and patches) and get it to work on the wireless connection. There's a new expansion come out, raising the level limit to 80, but I think I'll hang off for now. Even if there are new dances for your characters. Hopefully, new (and funny) jokes for female dwarves.
Curious thing in the news; the foot and mouth outbreak was caused, in part by a "dysfunctional" pipe. Give it some cognitive behavioural therapy, that might sort it out.
So. Given my early start, I'd better get off to bed soon. If anyone is in the central belt of Scotland tomorrow and wants to see Ross Noble at the Playhouse in Edinburgh, my phone number is 0786.... nah, leave a comment. Unless you're a FaceBook friend, then I think my number's on my profile. You don't have to sit next to me. There's a hairy biker I know that you can sit next to instead.
Mum is in a mood with me, because I haven't become psychic in the past few months. Not literally. The downside to living at home. Is it worth being able to buy CDs of lullaby versions of rock songs? Ask again once I've got the CD and listened to it a couple of times. Fairy lights... fairy lights... go to your happy place... listen to the Bloodhound Gang...
There's a growing possibility I'll be back in Azeroth soonish. The PC that has an AGP slot has been set up and is ready to go, I just need to install the game (and patches) and get it to work on the wireless connection. There's a new expansion come out, raising the level limit to 80, but I think I'll hang off for now. Even if there are new dances for your characters. Hopefully, new (and funny) jokes for female dwarves.
Curious thing in the news; the foot and mouth outbreak was caused, in part by a "dysfunctional" pipe. Give it some cognitive behavioural therapy, that might sort it out.
So. Given my early start, I'd better get off to bed soon. If anyone is in the central belt of Scotland tomorrow and wants to see Ross Noble at the Playhouse in Edinburgh, my phone number is 0786.... nah, leave a comment. Unless you're a FaceBook friend, then I think my number's on my profile. You don't have to sit next to me. There's a hairy biker I know that you can sit next to instead.
There's faces in that bra...
Yup, still wetting myself over that Ross Noble clip. Fear of Pop still hasn't arrived. It's due by Monday. I got an email from the seller just over a week ago to say that it had been shipped. What's the betting that the stuff I've just ordered (had a minor Pumpkins' orgy) arrives before it? So, yeah. Dole money. So far, I seem to be spending it on CDs mostly. And books. Living with one's parents does have a few benefits. That said, I'd be out of here like a shot, if only someone would offer me a job. Then I'd have fairy lights and soft furnishings competing for my spendlust. Food? What would I want that for? I'm bizarrely cheered by the bedding I put on yesterday. It's pink leopard print. Just looking at it, or thinking about it makes me smile. I bought it when I was last in a single bed, about 3 years ago. I was thinking forward though, and bought the double size too. It's languishing in a box in the garage. I wish they'd make Hello Kitty sheets in double size. Maybe there's methods one can employ to alter them...
As I mentioned, I had a minor Pumpkins frenzy on Amazon. Tarantula on white vinyl, the lullaby versions and Siamese Dream are now making their way to the mothership. Someone is selling Mellon Collie on vinyl, but £170 would hurt if I was working, so another time perhaps. Maybe I should buy a lotto ticket tomorrow. I'll likely forget. Someone has to balance out Dad. Anyway. Today, I shall mostly stream-of-consiousness. Otherwise known as mind vomit. It's kind of poor of me to only now be ordering Siamese Dream. I haven't had a copy (on CD, got it on vinyl) since breaking up with cuntfaceIain. One important lesson I took from that relationship (along with; violence = bad) is never, ever integrate your CD collection. If having 2 copies of the same album bothers you that much, put the duplicates in a box in the attic, or similar. Maybe, after 10 years of marriage, you can think about giving them to charity. Or selling them on eBay as, by then, they may well be collector's items.
In addition to the lullaby versions of the Pumpkins, there's versions of Nirvana and The Cure. I may have to look into them in the future.
Damn this period. I'm getting an unusual pain in my right side. It's more a pulling sensation than I usually get, but then, I usually have a good 3 weeks between them too. Hopefully, when I'm started with the patches, this will be a thing of the past. I read the leaflet that came with them the other day (and could use it to repaper a small room, should I want to; it's bigger than an OS map!) and was amused to see that withdrawal bleeding can occur when you stop using them or use more than one at once. Similarly, one of the side-effects of anti-depressants can be euphoria. Given the target market for these drugs, how do they know it's actually euphoria and not just a depressed person feeling the unusual sensation of being happy? It can feel pretty damned euphoric to be happy when you wanted to kill yourself not that long before. Ok, so I'm not dancing about, singing to the birds (at least I'd be more melodic than those fucking crows) and generally behaving like I'm in a Disney musical, but it feels nice to be happy. I'm not thinking about the future much, which helps. See, I was paying attention when I read Stumbling On Happiness. I know what I want to happen in the future, and it'll happen if it's meant to. Or something that will turn out to be better will. I was so busy regretting what I did to mess up that last relationship (and really, I did the equivalent of dropping an A Bomb on it) and hurting the person involved (which I would undo, if there was any way to) that I only just realised that if that all hadn't happened, I wouldn't have been forced to face up to my problems. I'd've left them, as they were. Gradually getting worse. I can't describe how horrible I feel; I turned into a person I don't even recognise and said some things I really didn't mean and I really hurt someone I didn't want to. I would do anything to make it up and take it all back. If he forgave me and gave me a second chance... I'll settle for forgiveness. But at least I'm tackling the problems now.
Yup, still wetting myself over that Ross Noble clip. Fear of Pop still hasn't arrived. It's due by Monday. I got an email from the seller just over a week ago to say that it had been shipped. What's the betting that the stuff I've just ordered (had a minor Pumpkins' orgy) arrives before it? So, yeah. Dole money. So far, I seem to be spending it on CDs mostly. And books. Living with one's parents does have a few benefits. That said, I'd be out of here like a shot, if only someone would offer me a job. Then I'd have fairy lights and soft furnishings competing for my spendlust. Food? What would I want that for? I'm bizarrely cheered by the bedding I put on yesterday. It's pink leopard print. Just looking at it, or thinking about it makes me smile. I bought it when I was last in a single bed, about 3 years ago. I was thinking forward though, and bought the double size too. It's languishing in a box in the garage. I wish they'd make Hello Kitty sheets in double size. Maybe there's methods one can employ to alter them...
As I mentioned, I had a minor Pumpkins frenzy on Amazon. Tarantula on white vinyl, the lullaby versions and Siamese Dream are now making their way to the mothership. Someone is selling Mellon Collie on vinyl, but £170 would hurt if I was working, so another time perhaps. Maybe I should buy a lotto ticket tomorrow. I'll likely forget. Someone has to balance out Dad. Anyway. Today, I shall mostly stream-of-consiousness. Otherwise known as mind vomit. It's kind of poor of me to only now be ordering Siamese Dream. I haven't had a copy (on CD, got it on vinyl) since breaking up with cuntfaceIain. One important lesson I took from that relationship (along with; violence = bad) is never, ever integrate your CD collection. If having 2 copies of the same album bothers you that much, put the duplicates in a box in the attic, or similar. Maybe, after 10 years of marriage, you can think about giving them to charity. Or selling them on eBay as, by then, they may well be collector's items.
In addition to the lullaby versions of the Pumpkins, there's versions of Nirvana and The Cure. I may have to look into them in the future.
Damn this period. I'm getting an unusual pain in my right side. It's more a pulling sensation than I usually get, but then, I usually have a good 3 weeks between them too. Hopefully, when I'm started with the patches, this will be a thing of the past. I read the leaflet that came with them the other day (and could use it to repaper a small room, should I want to; it's bigger than an OS map!) and was amused to see that withdrawal bleeding can occur when you stop using them or use more than one at once. Similarly, one of the side-effects of anti-depressants can be euphoria. Given the target market for these drugs, how do they know it's actually euphoria and not just a depressed person feeling the unusual sensation of being happy? It can feel pretty damned euphoric to be happy when you wanted to kill yourself not that long before. Ok, so I'm not dancing about, singing to the birds (at least I'd be more melodic than those fucking crows) and generally behaving like I'm in a Disney musical, but it feels nice to be happy. I'm not thinking about the future much, which helps. See, I was paying attention when I read Stumbling On Happiness. I know what I want to happen in the future, and it'll happen if it's meant to. Or something that will turn out to be better will. I was so busy regretting what I did to mess up that last relationship (and really, I did the equivalent of dropping an A Bomb on it) and hurting the person involved (which I would undo, if there was any way to) that I only just realised that if that all hadn't happened, I wouldn't have been forced to face up to my problems. I'd've left them, as they were. Gradually getting worse. I can't describe how horrible I feel; I turned into a person I don't even recognise and said some things I really didn't mean and I really hurt someone I didn't want to. I would do anything to make it up and take it all back. If he forgave me and gave me a second chance... I'll settle for forgiveness. But at least I'm tackling the problems now.
As happens so often, I've forgotten what it is I wanted to write. Somewhere along the way, I've lost a day. I'm convinced it's Wednesday, even though the pills have the day printed over the blister and I've been sticking to the right day's. If I took Sunday's tomorrow, would that make it Sunday? Bah. I know what I mean.
After years of not fancying Billy Corgan, I have a slight crush on him now. The thing that changed it for me was a video on YouTube of him working on a new song. He plays right-handed, but is in fact left-handed. I know it's an odd thing to have as a deal-breaker, but it's the biological part of me, I think. I'll only have a baby if I know it's going to be a left-handed girl. With Billy as my baby-daddy, I'd be halfway there for sure. Also, I'm totally off Dave Navarro. Two reasons; the most recent photo I saw of him, he looked a bit... simian. And his reason for directing a porn movie (which, in itself, I find somewhat unattractive)? He wanted to do something "shocking". If you truly believe that sex is shocking, then there's no hope and I don't fancy you even slightly. Not even in a skirt. And, as I was going to say earlier, but got put off when Dad came into the room; I'd've done Eddie Izzard, skirt, fake boobs and better legs than me, in a heartbeat after his show.
I finally got round to dying my hair. Ah, the smell of ammonia, it reminds me of my days as a Goth. To maintain the blue-black, I must've got quite used to the smell. I don't remember it being so strong as it was earlier. Anyway, I'm not falling into the trap of the endless cycle of regrowth. It's now dark brown. Darker than I thought it'd be, but there's not a whole lot I can do just now. At least I don't look quite as spectral as I did with black hair. Mum did the usual "It's too dark for your colouring" bit. In all the time I had black hair, only 2 people ever said it didn't suit me, Mum being one of them. Everyone else who saw fit to comment liked it. And several people did. Ok, they were all from the 'scene' in Dundee and had either had black hair in the past or did at the time. Maybe they were a bit biased. Maybe I looked fabulous. (Having seen the few photos I allowed at that time, no. Just, no.)
In the course of a conversation with Ben, he told me that he'd continued reading my blog after I thought he'd stopped. His reasoning for it was somewhat conflicted when he explained. He just wanted a technical challenge, but was sort of hooked on reading it and couldn't quite let go for a while. The conflict might just have been the way I read it. He says he's not reading anymore, he stopped about a month or so ago. I kind of wish he hadn't told me. It's a little creepy. Anyway. Bye bye, StatCounter. I have no need of you anymore, not now that I'm getting comments. And now I must go and lie down, before my ego swells to such a point that I can't get through the door.
After years of not fancying Billy Corgan, I have a slight crush on him now. The thing that changed it for me was a video on YouTube of him working on a new song. He plays right-handed, but is in fact left-handed. I know it's an odd thing to have as a deal-breaker, but it's the biological part of me, I think. I'll only have a baby if I know it's going to be a left-handed girl. With Billy as my baby-daddy, I'd be halfway there for sure. Also, I'm totally off Dave Navarro. Two reasons; the most recent photo I saw of him, he looked a bit... simian. And his reason for directing a porn movie (which, in itself, I find somewhat unattractive)? He wanted to do something "shocking". If you truly believe that sex is shocking, then there's no hope and I don't fancy you even slightly. Not even in a skirt. And, as I was going to say earlier, but got put off when Dad came into the room; I'd've done Eddie Izzard, skirt, fake boobs and better legs than me, in a heartbeat after his show.
I finally got round to dying my hair. Ah, the smell of ammonia, it reminds me of my days as a Goth. To maintain the blue-black, I must've got quite used to the smell. I don't remember it being so strong as it was earlier. Anyway, I'm not falling into the trap of the endless cycle of regrowth. It's now dark brown. Darker than I thought it'd be, but there's not a whole lot I can do just now. At least I don't look quite as spectral as I did with black hair. Mum did the usual "It's too dark for your colouring" bit. In all the time I had black hair, only 2 people ever said it didn't suit me, Mum being one of them. Everyone else who saw fit to comment liked it. And several people did. Ok, they were all from the 'scene' in Dundee and had either had black hair in the past or did at the time. Maybe they were a bit biased. Maybe I looked fabulous. (Having seen the few photos I allowed at that time, no. Just, no.)
In the course of a conversation with Ben, he told me that he'd continued reading my blog after I thought he'd stopped. His reasoning for it was somewhat conflicted when he explained. He just wanted a technical challenge, but was sort of hooked on reading it and couldn't quite let go for a while. The conflict might just have been the way I read it. He says he's not reading anymore, he stopped about a month or so ago. I kind of wish he hadn't told me. It's a little creepy. Anyway. Bye bye, StatCounter. I have no need of you anymore, not now that I'm getting comments. And now I must go and lie down, before my ego swells to such a point that I can't get through the door.
That CD still hasn't arrived. It has 4 days to appear before it's officially late. The Walkman is really getting into Arcade Fire just now. The Foo Fighters have a new album coming out at the end of the month (yay!) and Ladytron are rereleasing Witching Hour. It'd better not be one of those rereleases that has a-gajillion-bonus-tracks-and-possibly-a-DVD-which-is-so-much
-better-than-the-regular-version-you-shelled-out-for-previously. That said, the version I got off Amazon has some bonus mixes. But I only got it, like, a week ago. Grump, grump, mumble, mumble.
-better-than-the-regular-version-you-shelled-out-for-previously. That said, the version I got off Amazon has some bonus mixes. But I only got it, like, a week ago. Grump, grump, mumble, mumble.
I was walking back home earlier, after posting payment for the dress that I really hope fits, will all tracks on shuffle on the Walkman. There was a random bit of Ross Noble, talking about putting piglets in a bra, instead of having augmentation surgery. I'd try to explain it further, but I'm woefully pathetic at telling other people's jokes, so you'll just have to trust me that it's funny. So, yeah. Walking along laughing out loud. It's just as well it's quiet round here. If I'd been in Glasgow, I'd've had people crossing the street to avoid me. I'm so looking forward to Saturday. I'm trying not to stress about that spare ticket; for Eddie Izzard we found someone on the day and last time I saw Ross Noble I ended up taking Alan. Push comes to shove, it'll be handy to have somewhere to put the coats. 'Sfunny, everytime I see a male stand-up, by the end of the show I'd just about walk over burning coals for them. I don't even find Ross Noble or Eddie Izzard that attractive to look at. Anyway. I've a Q crossword to try to finish.
For some reason, I feel quite excited about something. I don't know what though. Maybe that CD will finally arrive tomorrow? I'll be getting a new pretty dress soon, via eBay. It's black and white gingham, 50's style, halter neck, made by Lip Service. I hope it fits. I hope I have some reason to wear it soon, too. Assuming it fits, of course. If it does, I'll post a photo.
I'm going to see Lesley and Al on Saturday; we're going to see Ross Noble. Alan will also be there, and hopefully Chris, though I've not heard back from him yet. It appears that I'm fated to go to stand-up shows as a single hag. Lightning may strike twice, but three times? Meh. It does mean that I can laugh so hard I make snorty noises and not worry about being unattractive. Especially if the snorty noises have follow-through. I'd better remember to make sure I've some tissues in my bag.
Something's changed. In my head. It could be that my serotonin's stabilised, but that's remarkably quick, considering I only started taking the pills yesterday. Maybe the last 100mg was still floating about in there or something. Admittedly, when I'd take those ones, it'd often be because I was getting the dizzies and they'd be gone again within a couple of hours of taking the pill. Maybe because I have previously been taking those ones, even erratically, I'm not starting from nothing. That, and I'm finally admitting my problems to myself. Running and hiding isn't going to work, because no matter where I go, there I am. Is that really so bad? Ok, I still wouldn't want to be trapped in a broken lift with just myself for company. I'd have to have my Walkman, with enough battery to last. And I could sing. Who'd hear me?
So. Almost finished another book. I did make a start on A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (or whatever it's proper title is) but didn't get beyond the notes before falling asleep. Thus far, entertaining. And I think I'm going to have to track down Bleak Expectations. I heard part 5 this afternoon and am now kicking myself for missing the previous 4 parts. Subsequently, I was listening to PM; they were discussing that scientists had, in principle, been given permission to do something involving human and animal embryonic tissue. Yes, the stuff that sci-fi horror is made of. Anyway, to get the reaction from all concerned parties, they interviewed this pro-life woman. She described the splicing of human and animal DNA as "a taboo". Do you think she still refers to menstruation as 'the curse', sotto voce and never when men are around? Does she wear trousers? Does she vote? Does she ever talk about sex? Death? Wear a skirt that shows her ankle? She certainly didn't think through what she was saying, anyway.
On that note, I think I'll go and finish my book and listen to the Walkman and then daydream Is it still daydreaming when it's 2am? about what my own flat will be like once I've moved in and get things how I want them. In my mind, I'm wearing the Paper Bag dress for my housewarming. Fairy lights everywhere...
I'm going to see Lesley and Al on Saturday; we're going to see Ross Noble. Alan will also be there, and hopefully Chris, though I've not heard back from him yet. It appears that I'm fated to go to stand-up shows as a single hag. Lightning may strike twice, but three times? Meh. It does mean that I can laugh so hard I make snorty noises and not worry about being unattractive. Especially if the snorty noises have follow-through. I'd better remember to make sure I've some tissues in my bag.
Something's changed. In my head. It could be that my serotonin's stabilised, but that's remarkably quick, considering I only started taking the pills yesterday. Maybe the last 100mg was still floating about in there or something. Admittedly, when I'd take those ones, it'd often be because I was getting the dizzies and they'd be gone again within a couple of hours of taking the pill. Maybe because I have previously been taking those ones, even erratically, I'm not starting from nothing. That, and I'm finally admitting my problems to myself. Running and hiding isn't going to work, because no matter where I go, there I am. Is that really so bad? Ok, I still wouldn't want to be trapped in a broken lift with just myself for company. I'd have to have my Walkman, with enough battery to last. And I could sing. Who'd hear me?
So. Almost finished another book. I did make a start on A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (or whatever it's proper title is) but didn't get beyond the notes before falling asleep. Thus far, entertaining. And I think I'm going to have to track down Bleak Expectations. I heard part 5 this afternoon and am now kicking myself for missing the previous 4 parts. Subsequently, I was listening to PM; they were discussing that scientists had, in principle, been given permission to do something involving human and animal embryonic tissue. Yes, the stuff that sci-fi horror is made of. Anyway, to get the reaction from all concerned parties, they interviewed this pro-life woman. She described the splicing of human and animal DNA as "a taboo". Do you think she still refers to menstruation as 'the curse', sotto voce and never when men are around? Does she wear trousers? Does she vote? Does she ever talk about sex? Death? Wear a skirt that shows her ankle? She certainly didn't think through what she was saying, anyway.
On that note, I think I'll go and finish my book and listen to the Walkman and then daydream Is it still daydreaming when it's 2am? about what my own flat will be like once I've moved in and get things how I want them. In my mind, I'm wearing the Paper Bag dress for my housewarming. Fairy lights everywhere...
Someone's finally posted it to YouTube. It makes up for the JarJar Binks bit from Robot Chicken going kerflooey.
Had to go back to the bank as my answers for the security questions on the phone didn't give enough indication that I am who I say I am. Everything is now sorted. Even better, I rarely browse CDs in charity shops; the books take long enough and most of my money as it is. I don't know what possessed me this time, but I found The Avalanches album in Barnardo's. I've been toying with buying it on Amazon Martketplace but bought Fear of Pop instead, which still hasn't arrived. That'll be 4 stars maximum for you, dear seller.
In other news, I appear to be having another period. It's not due for about 2 1/2 weeks yet. Oh well. I guess it gives me a good excuse to eat that Vanilla Toffee Crunch that's still in the freezer. Oh, and Hershey's Cookies & Cream isn't as good as I remember it being 10 years ago. Bah. Anyway, I need to eat something as I kind of missed lunch and Mum bought the largest packet of pitta bread I've ever seen, so...
In other news, I appear to be having another period. It's not due for about 2 1/2 weeks yet. Oh well. I guess it gives me a good excuse to eat that Vanilla Toffee Crunch that's still in the freezer. Oh, and Hershey's Cookies & Cream isn't as good as I remember it being 10 years ago. Bah. Anyway, I need to eat something as I kind of missed lunch and Mum bought the largest packet of pitta bread I've ever seen, so...
In 2 weeks, I'll be off sertraline and on citalopram. I'm back on 50mg of sertraline; daily this week then every other day next week. Then 20mg (the standard dosage) of the new one after that. I've already taken today's 50mg. Go, new me, go. One day, I'm going to read the leaflet in the box of new tablets and instead of saying that 'this drug is used to treat major/severe/chronic depression' or whatever, it will probably just say 'Take it. You know you have to. Don't ask unnecessary questions, fool.' In all honesty, I still find it a little... can't think of the word... astounding? yup, that'll do for now that my problems are genuine and warrent such language as 'major depression'. I would hardly claim to be the only person in the world like this, even if it occasionally feels that way. When most other people talk about being depressed, it's a relatively short term thing. Measurable in months. I don't mean to mock those so afflicted, I know those problems are no less real than mine. But I've been ill for at least 13 years now. I don't know life any other way, it's normal for me. I don't know any different, not really.
Anyway. Enough of the self-pity. As Tanya Marie says, getting out of bed is challenge enough some days, having a good poke into my way of thinking and getting bogged down in it isn't always the best thing to keep my this side of my duvet.
The nearest branch of my bank is about 15 miles away. I found this out because I was having problems with my card and couldn't remember the relevant details for to phone them. Turns out Ben thought that returning an item to the sender with my new address would help. Unsurprisingly, the bank seem to have cancelled my card. Yes, I know I should've sorted this out months ago. I refer you to the medication issue, and how long that's been dragging. Just call me an ostrich, 'mkay? Though; silver lining. The charity shops next to the bank are rather good; I got a Carrie Fisher I haven't read and didn't really know anything about; Laura Esquivel's latest (high hopes for that one; Like Water For Chocolate is my favouritest book I've ever read. And there's been a few.); a CD of a band I remember seeing support Garbage at the Barras who I remember primarily because the bassist was female and had a Fender Jazz that had a holographic silver finish and C&C Music Factory's album (assuming they never had any others) because I am apparently a big gay from the early 90's. Ducky. And Woolies are forgiven; last time I was in they didn't have any peanut putter cups. This time, they still didn't have any but they did have Hershey's Cookies and Cream. It evens out. Especially considering they had Nutrageouses (Nutragiae?) too.
Ooh, and I have the contraceptive patch too. They still won't give me a hysterectomy, even though I have no use for it.
Anyway. Enough of the self-pity. As Tanya Marie says, getting out of bed is challenge enough some days, having a good poke into my way of thinking and getting bogged down in it isn't always the best thing to keep my this side of my duvet.
The nearest branch of my bank is about 15 miles away. I found this out because I was having problems with my card and couldn't remember the relevant details for to phone them. Turns out Ben thought that returning an item to the sender with my new address would help. Unsurprisingly, the bank seem to have cancelled my card. Yes, I know I should've sorted this out months ago. I refer you to the medication issue, and how long that's been dragging. Just call me an ostrich, 'mkay? Though; silver lining. The charity shops next to the bank are rather good; I got a Carrie Fisher I haven't read and didn't really know anything about; Laura Esquivel's latest (high hopes for that one; Like Water For Chocolate is my favouritest book I've ever read. And there's been a few.); a CD of a band I remember seeing support Garbage at the Barras who I remember primarily because the bassist was female and had a Fender Jazz that had a holographic silver finish and C&C Music Factory's album (assuming they never had any others) because I am apparently a big gay from the early 90's. Ducky. And Woolies are forgiven; last time I was in they didn't have any peanut putter cups. This time, they still didn't have any but they did have Hershey's Cookies and Cream. It evens out. Especially considering they had Nutrageouses (Nutragiae?) too.
Ooh, and I have the contraceptive patch too. They still won't give me a hysterectomy, even though I have no use for it.
Will I ever get better?
By 'better', I mean not depressed and not reliant on medication to make my brain work properly. How much of me is actually the illness? What would I be like if my brain made the right amount of serotonin and didn't immediately reuptake it? This is worse than lying in bed, aged 8, wondering who I'd be if I'd been born into another body. I didn't sleep well that night either. Wouldn't it be wonderful if it was something that could be fixed for once and for all? Depression, not prepubescent existential angst. And wouldn't it be lovely to just accept it, take the pills and not think about it so much. That's definitely part of it, as far as I can tell. Happy people don't seem to think about things as much. I mean, I can be happy. It does happen occasionally. The first time I heard Turn My Way, for example. Lying on my bed, listening to La Mer, more recently.
Anyway. This is why I'm going to see the doctor. Who knows, if I take my pills properly, like I was always supposed to, maybe I'll be something like happy. And not just for 3-5 minutes at a time. I'll have the right level of serotonin in my brain (who I think would like to be called Brian, by the way my fingers are going) and I can sort of pretend to be normal. I guess it'll be like being diabetic, but still being able to eat a mountain of chocolate. I may need to avoid grapefruit juice though, which is quite the personal disaster.
So. I also need to be around people more. If I'm alone too long, I turn into a Möbius snake. Which means I have to think about what to do when I move out. I desperately want my own place, and have seen a flat that has stolen my heart (the fireplace...) which is 1 bedroom. Fine, as long as I have enough social contact. I suppose, in that case, I'd need to get, and stay, in the habit of going out and seeing people. No specific gays in mind, not at all. And, perhaps, make new friends. I suppose I'd better not get too far ahead of myself. I've got to find out what I'm like as a normal first. And get used to it. I will though. I'll get there if I have to crawl.
By 'better', I mean not depressed and not reliant on medication to make my brain work properly. How much of me is actually the illness? What would I be like if my brain made the right amount of serotonin and didn't immediately reuptake it? This is worse than lying in bed, aged 8, wondering who I'd be if I'd been born into another body. I didn't sleep well that night either. Wouldn't it be wonderful if it was something that could be fixed for once and for all? Depression, not prepubescent existential angst. And wouldn't it be lovely to just accept it, take the pills and not think about it so much. That's definitely part of it, as far as I can tell. Happy people don't seem to think about things as much. I mean, I can be happy. It does happen occasionally. The first time I heard Turn My Way, for example. Lying on my bed, listening to La Mer, more recently.
Anyway. This is why I'm going to see the doctor. Who knows, if I take my pills properly, like I was always supposed to, maybe I'll be something like happy. And not just for 3-5 minutes at a time. I'll have the right level of serotonin in my brain (who I think would like to be called Brian, by the way my fingers are going) and I can sort of pretend to be normal. I guess it'll be like being diabetic, but still being able to eat a mountain of chocolate. I may need to avoid grapefruit juice though, which is quite the personal disaster.
So. I also need to be around people more. If I'm alone too long, I turn into a Möbius snake. Which means I have to think about what to do when I move out. I desperately want my own place, and have seen a flat that has stolen my heart (the fireplace...) which is 1 bedroom. Fine, as long as I have enough social contact. I suppose, in that case, I'd need to get, and stay, in the habit of going out and seeing people. No specific gays in mind, not at all. And, perhaps, make new friends. I suppose I'd better not get too far ahead of myself. I've got to find out what I'm like as a normal first. And get used to it. I will though. I'll get there if I have to crawl.
My appointment with a doctor is at 12 midday tomorrow. I won't leave the office until I have this sorted out. It'll probably take about 5 minutes. And I got 7 1/2 books at the charity shop. One of them is a two-books-in-one thing, hence the 1/2. A Heartbreaking Work Of Staggering Genius could turn out to be somewhat disappointing, it's based on a true story and that kind of thing always makes me feel a little ill. Dave Pelzer has a lot to answer for. Years of horrifc abuse as a child doesn't excuse everything. It was probably the publisher's idea, but the serialisation of his story, then publishing all 3 books in 1 struck me as blatant cashing in. On the upside, the quotes in the first pages describe it as being funny. That safely rules out abuse then. We shall see.... Rape: A Love Story though, will almost certainly not be a barrel of laughs. I've read one other Joyce Carol Oates, it wasn't exactly cheery. Of all the books I got, the one I'm looking forward to most is H2O: A Biography of Water. I am such a nerd.
Oh, and there was a Bad Taste Bear sitting on the counter, so I bought him too. I've forgotten which one he is. Valentino, I think. He's ripped his heart our of his chest. Someone (aged about 16, I'd guess) had painted a black zigzag on the heart, but one blackened thumbnail later, it's gone. If, when I'm in a position to move, the flat I've seen and fallen in love with is still available for rent, he will look fabulous on the mantelpiece of the fireplace. If you can see him for fairy lights.
It appears that, mentally, I've already moved in.
Oh, and there was a Bad Taste Bear sitting on the counter, so I bought him too. I've forgotten which one he is. Valentino, I think. He's ripped his heart our of his chest. Someone (aged about 16, I'd guess) had painted a black zigzag on the heart, but one blackened thumbnail later, it's gone. If, when I'm in a position to move, the flat I've seen and fallen in love with is still available for rent, he will look fabulous on the mantelpiece of the fireplace. If you can see him for fairy lights.
It appears that, mentally, I've already moved in.
Right, phoned the doctor's surgery. I have to go there and fill out a form. Fair enough. Except I'm not sure where the practise is. Dad's gone out to walk up some hill and Mum's probably up to her neck in her first day in her new job so won't reply to my text until she's on her lunch. So, plan B. (C?) I'll look up the address in the phone book and find a map of the area. Cross referencing the two might just do the trick. And it's a nice day, so the walk's no hardship. I will do this today. If nothing else, it will keep my mind off thinking about the shameful mess I made of certain things. If I think about that too much, I'll want to curl up and die. I really know how to destroy myself. If I look behind me, to see who's undermined me, it's a mirror. Maybe that's the point of the song, but anyway.
I finished Cloud Atlas yesterday. No mean feat, even if I do say so myself. It's about 530 pages and I wasn't even quarter of the way through yesterday morning. Now I'm about halfway through Morality for Beautiful Girls. Nothing like as long, and written in plain English. I'll be done by bedtime tonight. Then I have a Christopher Brookmyre to get stuck into. And if I'm going to the doctor, I might as well stop in to the charity shop on the way past and see what they have today. Consider it a reward for finally pulling my head from the sand. Anyway. This isn't me getting sorted out to go and get registered. Or, indeed, ready for my interview. Busy day today...
I finished Cloud Atlas yesterday. No mean feat, even if I do say so myself. It's about 530 pages and I wasn't even quarter of the way through yesterday morning. Now I'm about halfway through Morality for Beautiful Girls. Nothing like as long, and written in plain English. I'll be done by bedtime tonight. Then I have a Christopher Brookmyre to get stuck into. And if I'm going to the doctor, I might as well stop in to the charity shop on the way past and see what they have today. Consider it a reward for finally pulling my head from the sand. Anyway. This isn't me getting sorted out to go and get registered. Or, indeed, ready for my interview. Busy day today...
For want of sounding melodramatic, I need help. Of the medical variety. I've been deluding myself regarding the state of my head and my medication for just a bit too long. Look at the evidence; I have never taken my tablets anything like a regularly as I should; I cut myself again and certainly thought about it a hell of a lot for someone who was 'over all that' and if I hadn't been to Steve's funeral last year, I think I would've probably at least tried to kill myself. I'm not ok. Wanting to be dead is not normal, not even for me. I have to get this medication thing sorted out. The sertraline works great, when I take it. There's no reason that something else might not work better. Not wanting to spend my life on pills is not much of an excuse, given the alternatives. What option do I have? I have to go to the doctor or there really isn't much future for me to look forward to. It's sad that I have to get so low and hurt other people to realise this. So. Tomorrow. It's a new day. I will take care of business, if it's the last thing I do.
Which, for the record, I really hope it's not.
Which, for the record, I really hope it's not.
And this is one of those times. If I could get away from myself, I would. How can I be so stupid as to think that he just needed some time? He's made up his mind and told me already. That's why he's ignoring me and why he's never going to wake up one day and say to himself "You know what? I do want to be with the crazy girl." Why would anyone think that? I don't want to be around me most of the time, why would anyone else? Everyting was fine until I had one of my bad days. It was going to happen sooner or later. Who would choose to have that in their life? I certainly wouldn't. I should've just kept quiet for a couple of hours longer. Watched the rest of The Undiscovered Country. Mum and Dad would be pretty much over it by now. Ha. They'd've been over it about 8 years ago.
I'd like to add, for the record, that I wrote this before receiving the email that confirmed the above.
I'd like to add, for the record, that I wrote this before receiving the email that confirmed the above.
There was a huge spider in the bathroom last night. I'm not certain that it's not the one that was in my cardigan the other day. Anyway, it was sitting (standing?) on the floor right in front of the toilet. How glad am I that I saw it before I needed to pee? And that I didn't stumble into the bathroom in the dark? Yick.
Mum swears by this anti-static duster thing she has; says that the spiders are too busy hanging on to scuttle anywhere. Only if they're small enough, it would seem. When I finally got it picked up, what did it do? Start running towards the handle, totally unfazed by the moving filaments. I got it out the window in time though, otherwise I'd still be rocking in a corner, whimpering, now.
Between that and my apparent inability to get my mind off the Boy I Love Who Doesn't Love Me And In Fact Doesn't Even Want To Acknowledge My Existance Any More, it's a wonder I got any sleep. Needless to say, I'm still tired and I look a bit like I've been hit in the face. Honestly, it's like a form of torture. I wish I could make it stop. I asked him to just tell me that it meant nothing to him, blah blah blah. I don't care whether it's a lie or not, I need this to stop. I'm tormenting myself (to be fair, I'm not the only one; the cards keep telling me positive things about my love life, that happy news is soon coming and a relationship is growing into a wonderful thing) and I need to let go. If I have to hate him, well, it's not that far removed from love. It'll make no difference to him. It could make a world of difference to me. I could stop crying, for one. Finish that book. I'll never make him see that I wouldn't do the things he thinks I would, that we could be happy together, that it might possibly work out and have a happy ending. There's nothing to be done, so why is part of me persisting in holding on to hope?
Mum swears by this anti-static duster thing she has; says that the spiders are too busy hanging on to scuttle anywhere. Only if they're small enough, it would seem. When I finally got it picked up, what did it do? Start running towards the handle, totally unfazed by the moving filaments. I got it out the window in time though, otherwise I'd still be rocking in a corner, whimpering, now.
Between that and my apparent inability to get my mind off the Boy I Love Who Doesn't Love Me And In Fact Doesn't Even Want To Acknowledge My Existance Any More, it's a wonder I got any sleep. Needless to say, I'm still tired and I look a bit like I've been hit in the face. Honestly, it's like a form of torture. I wish I could make it stop. I asked him to just tell me that it meant nothing to him, blah blah blah. I don't care whether it's a lie or not, I need this to stop. I'm tormenting myself (to be fair, I'm not the only one; the cards keep telling me positive things about my love life, that happy news is soon coming and a relationship is growing into a wonderful thing) and I need to let go. If I have to hate him, well, it's not that far removed from love. It'll make no difference to him. It could make a world of difference to me. I could stop crying, for one. Finish that book. I'll never make him see that I wouldn't do the things he thinks I would, that we could be happy together, that it might possibly work out and have a happy ending. There's nothing to be done, so why is part of me persisting in holding on to hope?
