One word

Dysthymia

anhedonia

We managed a bump today with much drama before hand. A bump is hitting/overtaking the boat ahead- a good thing.
Im happy, i guess; but the emotional turmoil in my head dulls the elation somewhat.

My hands are sore and my legs are covered in bruises and lacerations.
Even if the row back is awful, even if the crew we bumped caught a crab (not literally, it means a blade gets stuck in the water)- a bump is a bump and we managed it.

I say im not elated or joyous, but im not miserable either. I don't feel as rotten as i did yesterday.

There is still the last day of races tomorrow.

The price of forgetting

I won't slit my wrists because there is much else to be thankful for, but I will mark this event on my skin so I don’t forget.

Today I failed. Again. I failed. I was at fault. I did it. I was weak and I failed. I made a big mistake that cost us the race. We were overtaken. My crew tried, but rowing with me as deadweight didn’t help.

Forgetting is an art I have mastered. Why do I always forget? Why do I delude myself into thinking I can change?

I’ve tried, what little i could- and I have failed again. At what point does this become futile?

Things I have forgotten:
Bumps 2007

Bumps 2006

Looking back on my old blog entries, I'm truly embarrassed. I'm so full of shit, about changing my life and becoming better. Then i forget the lessons i have just learn and never change.

Save me, please...

I.....im scared.

There's no better way to say it. It's so bad that my stomach is acting up- i have bad, crampy diffuse pain across my stomach.

I used to think people who got psychosomatic symptoms were making it up. Im not making this up.

No one believes you if you look happy.

I'm getting my uniquely Liez's style anxiety attack.

- i get hungry all the time
- I laugh nervously about everything
- I talk all the time about death and dying (the wonderful escape from the terrible reality of life)
- I just want to stay under the covers and sleep (the dark blank nothing of sleep-i dont dream anymore)
- Everything hurts and my chest is tight
- I listen to sad and angry music (more than usual)

Death before Dishonour

"I don't mind dying if it's being hit by a Porsche"

This year's worse statement. I know I'm gonna regret ever saying it.

What if a Porsche did come around and hit me, thereby killing me in the process-preferably quickly. I want to donate my organs- my lungs are a bit shitty and my heart is pretty small, but everything else should be ok. Im assuming my liver is huge- cut it up and give it to a lot of people, ok? It is my last bid to go to heaven....I haven't been to good....

I fear i may disgrace myself and let my team down this Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I fear my team is blind to the fact that I SUCK. I'm so bad that anyone else would be better, but they would not believe me. I'm so scared, so terribly frightened and miserable but no one believes me. No one listens to me when i tell them that i cannot do this. That i am weak and useless.

I don't know what i can do to make them replace me. All my whinging and complaining has fallen on deaf ears.

I'm at my wits end. It is on the day after tomorrow. Hence the morbid wish of getting hit by a Porsche. If i don't die, i still can't row with a tibial/femoral/pelvic fracture. Yeah, and probably can't walk forever.

Projekt Revolution

Only the biggest two stage gig ever- linkin park, chris cornell and the bravery PLUS atreyu and a few more bands that sound pretty good.
One UK gig- June 29th.

Fuck, fuck, fuck it all to hell and back. Because i can't go. FuuuuuccccKing Helllllll

Yes, i have a linkin park obsession. It's not even cool anymore- but love is love. I've even grown to love Minutes to Midnight, the slightly different latest album.

I don't listen to them all the time- but when things get real bad and everything's messed up (a little like now), screaming along with Chester and crew makes things a lot better. The music make get off my fat arse and get moving, start living and stop whining.

The new video, Given up tries to capture the high of being in a crowd, jumping up and down while screaming "put me out of my fucking misery!!!!" And they shot the footage for the video at the O2 arena. Im in there somewhere......oh, my rock fame!!!

Bleed it out sounds a bit like the rock version of mecedonian wedding music (imagine an angry Kocani Orkestar sans accordion) Could be the clapping- even the video shows a drunkard brawl.

Click on appropriate purply bits to either rock out or listen to mecedonian wedding music.

Dido-Sand In My Shoes

Girls just wanna have fun

If you ever get a chance, listen to Greg Laswell's version of the Cindy Lauper classic, "Girls just wanna have fun". Compare and contrast with the original.

I'm writing this because i read something somewhere.

Basically the whole article was on gender stereotypes, most if which i fit into. You know, the ones where girls are shopaholics and wonderful cooks; throwers of tantrums and emotional fits; the use of feminine wiles to get what they want. What bothers me about these statements is not so much that 'oh, all girls are like that' generalization, but the subtle suggestion that boys aren't allowed to be shopaholics, brilliant cooks, get emo or use emotional blackmail. That these traits girls' exclusively and, god forbid, a boy who does these things are to be labelled *gasp* gay. The use of the word gay here is to denote lameness and not homosexuality.

I realize that i shouldn't stereotype, but hell, i do. I have this weird ideal picture of a "real man" in my head, and it kinda fits into a super masculine, uber gentleman stereotype. But, i accept that these stereotypes aren't always right (but not entirely wrong). That men are allowed to be weak, emo and care about how they look without losing any masculine points or making them less than a MAN.

But enough about boys and the manly man stereotype.
Being a girl in the 21st century is hard.

Generations ago women were expected to be great wives and mothers. Period. All you had to do to be a good woman was keep your man and the kids well fed and run a decent home. If you managed it smiling than woohoo, extra brownie points for you.

Now we're expected to keep up the good work of great grandmother's generation in addition to having a proper complete education, a great career, being a well-rounded, wholesome individual with varied interests and looking 20 years younger than our real age.
What the fuck happened? Who upped the expectations without telling us? Some people say feminist and women liberation have made it tougher for girls by putting all this pressure on us to be as good as the boys and also fulfill our unique role as women. And look fabulous doing it.

I'm not saying that the right to vote and equal opportunities is wrong- it's fantastic. It is brilliant how a girl can now be anything she wants to be and that her gender is not an issue.
The whinge is that too much is expected of girls.

Girls can't be fat, ugly or hairy. Girls have to be 'pretty', wear make-up and be nice. Who made up those fucking rules? The fact is i am miserable because i am ugly, fat (and sometimes hairy). I try to starve myself thin because i blame my social dysfunction on me being overweight. I doubt that if i were a boy, my misery due to my physical inadequacies would be this profound. I know i shouldn't be miserable just because i didn't win the genetics jackpot but it feels wrong to be comfortable as fat, ugly ole me.

I'm too tired to think and i need to be somewhere in an hour. Yes, my treatise on the effect of feminism on the psyche of young women and their life expectations is unfortunately cut short. I need to read more to say more. For every 200 pages i read, i make one good sentence.

Soy enferma y muy cansada

I got soaked at rowing yesterday- dripping, soaked to the skin wet. The water was disgusting and i looked gross to.

Had to go home "commando".

Fell asleep at about 9 and could not get up this morning. Woke up with a headache and neck stiffness. I thought it was meningitis and decided if i had to die, i might as well go sleeping. So i went back to sleep. I got up at about 11- still alive, but hungry and dehydrated.

I've got arthalgia, a background mild headache and some dyspepsia.
Gonna go study now- wasted enough time already......

Someone once told me never be to sure of your own success.



It might be that you've worked hard and you got lucky.



It could be that someone prayed for you and God listened to him/her/them.



I dont know who's praying for me; but i dont think im here because im particularly smart or hardworking.

Someone to smoke in bed with

I stole this from someone else's blog. I had to, i love this picture so much!!!
Elmo and the PG-tips monkey- match made in heaven?

What were they thinking.......?

If you dont get it: urban dict it!

*shot in Austerlitz metro station, Paris

Maybe I am addicted

I craving a cigarette- im banned from having one till the bumps are finished.

I need one now

because i cant find my OSCE notes

because i've wasted another weekend

because having coffee without ciggies isnt the same

because i miss france and i miss t

because i need strength to go see her later. It's difficult when we both love the same woman. It makes great conversation though. And whenever it comes up i feel like having a cigarette and crying.

because exams are coming in 6 weeks and i am FUCKED.

Just a little in love

with Carlos D- Interpol's bassist.
It's a well dressed band but the man out does his mates.
It's the goth-chic hair, the sharp suits and that cruel mouth.

I want a man that'll be bad for me. A man i can never get, what more keep.

Someone to smoke in bed with.

My anklet broke

One of the two string anklets i wear broke. I take everything as a sign, but im not sure how to interpret this one. I could just be the fact it's string that i've had it tied to my right foot for close to a year so it was high time for it to break.

It's so hard when things have layers and layers of meaning on them and im not sure which one is the 'real' meaning. If there is such a thing as the truth. My head is a terrible place to be in- the questioning, the contemplation, the lack of focus- forever scheming and planning. My body fails my mind- and my poor brain just runs around crazy trying to figure things out.

Im taking it as a sign that im cutting off of old, destructive ties. That im taking baby steps to moving on. What to, im not sure. But letting go of the past is good, as long as i dont forget the lessons. In the context of weight loss, of course.

I'm scared of the race that's coming up in 2 weeks. My fitness is the lowest it's ever been for a race. I almost want to get sick and drop out. I'm really, really scared.

interpol - slow hands

Like french chocolate

It was some kind of wonderful and all kinds of random.

Setting:

Weather: Sunny, clear and breezy
The soundtrack: Interpol (Slow hands, C'mere, Evil), Juno Soundtrack and some old school Dido and Jose Gonzalez. Live band playing the Killers
Location: A little flat in the centre of Paris, a room with green pattern wallpaper and noisy neighbours. A noisy hotel room at Porte de Montreuil.
Scent: Jasmine and neroli
Background:Was invited to Paris for a ball, but then subsequently found out i was gonna be abandoned for an older and prettier woman. He was apologetic about it, but still- i was going to someone else's ball, where i know no one, and he's not even gonna be with me. Merde. I was tempted not to go. So close. But, i cannot deny the lure of Paris.
Plot:
*Arriving dazed in Paris- the coach is cold, my bags too heavy. Storage lockers, expresso and pain au chocolate makes it all better.
*Spending a morning with dead people at Cimetiere Pere Lachaise and meeting the best listener in the world: a fat cat named Pierre.
*Meeting a bunch of people who know all about me being ditched (but me not knowing much about them at all)- and them being very nice about it and being very sweet by taking good care of me.
*Crashing at an absolutely random friend of a friend's place in the centre of Paris- big open windows and perfect view into neighbour's rooms. Telling ghost stories at night because we couldn't sleep.
*Waking up to the sound of churchbells in a strange, but soft bed- rolled in a duvet. I have not had a double bed all to myself in ages. The boys slept outside on the floor. Had the biggest, buttery-est most chocolaty pain au chocolat ever for breakfast. Painted my nails by the window sill while listening to music-with the sun warming me.
*Having pizza and beer in a cafe, after which we napped at a parc with fountains- still my chest remains 5 shades lighter than my arms.
*Going to the dinner/ball on the boat- it was ok in the beginning, awkward in the middle and really cool at the end. I felt to out of place because everyone knew everyone else. The girls and i came up with a story for me being there and unknown to everyone: I was a private student, studying fashion in Bordeaux. The reason that i dont speak French is that this is my Erasmus year, and i just arrived. Oh, and my main university is in Munich. (utterly random slip saying thank you in german). The views of Paris from the boat were amazing- the Eiffle tower was sparkling that night! It was great in the end because the band playing was excellent and we got up to dance in spite of the lack of space. It felt nice- listening to the Killers with the warm glow of the boat and the warm welcome i was getting was making me feel all fuzzy inside.
*And all the while, he hardly spoke to me- i wasn't really minding. He and the girl disappeared soon after we docked while i stayed on to party with the rest. I bumped into him while waiting for a cab with a new found friend (NFF)- but i didn't see him after that, at all.
*Riding a cab through Paris at 1 in the morning, meeting up with the rest of NFFs and eating leftover burgers with orange soda while playing cards in our jammies.
*Dressing up in my wrap black dress in the morning and touring Montmarte. I had a Marilyn Monroe flipped skirt moment- basicly the Parisians have had a good look at my knickers. It was hilarious. That dress must have been something- i was getting a few 'bonjour maimoselle' as i was walked along. I enjoyed the attention- i must've looked a bit parisien (maybe it was all black and a cigarette) because someone asked me for directions. It's funny because i dont speak a word of french so i shrugged my shoulders and said 'sorry!'.
*Being kissed by a random child-on the bus home to london there was this little 4 year old french boy who took a liking to me. This kid sat next to me and gave my arm a big soppy kiss. He was driving his mum crazy so i decided to talk to him- i ended up giving him piggy back rides and letting him play with my earrings. Such an affectionate kid- i was smothered with more soppy kisses and hugs. The kid had never seen a BCG scar and decided to 'kiss it better'.
Ending:
Im sitting on the bus as it's going through Brixton, trying to figure out my revision schedule and finishing that 10K word count dissertation.

The Decemberists - Los Angeles, I'm Yours

It should read London, I'm Yours.

Your humble narrator is off to Paris this weekend.

Im not so sure of my motivation for going, i do have a reason though. I've been invited to a party on a boat on the Seine on sunday.

It's a pretty formal party- i've been freting about the outfit, the shoes, the accessories for weeks.

I should be studying, but this weekend will be the weekend i get all outta my system. I can't wait. I have a schedule of things to see and just enough money to enjoy myself.

Im not sure how many shoes is too many for a weekend. Is 4 ok?

I need to pack, au revoir, see you on monday!

Sol's dead

He was never the same after the move.
I left it too late.
and i wasn't too good with the watering and sun exposure.
Im sorry i killed you.

The day floats by in the strong sunshine

I watch life pass like a movie.

There's the tonne of shiny colourful confetti in front of the courts of justice being whipped up by passing busses. The street sweeper is not sulking, yet.

The lady in the pastel skirt suit carrying an old fashion white boxy briefcase. Her baby blue eyeshadow frame her darting eyes. I wonder what's in the bag and who she's meeting at Half Moon street.

The gaggle of german school kids on a school trip. It was such a shy hello, such restrained curiosity. I could've been friendlier, but i was sunstroked by then.

The self-concious grin as a man caught me staring at him fixing his hair.

Friendly bus conductors and old school london busses ramble about east london. People sway as they make their way up the windy back stair and down the aisle.

The glare of the sun makes lines deeper, shadows darker and tar very-very soft. Bouncy even.

Im watching and waiting. I know no one's looking, but i want them to.

i dont think i'll make it in the arranged marriage circuit

Not that I'd want to

Random thoughts are...random.

I'll never make it because i photograph badly. And no one will fall in love with me through facebook. The shame, the dodgy photos. Worse, it's not my pictures so i cant get rid of them.

Buying sailor hats

“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keep moving”

I like that qoute. It's by Einstein.

Im gonna cycle down into town later. Need to get sailor doughboy hats and a cheap stripey t-shirt.

sun, fun and mild concussions

I looked for an opening in the fence, preferably without a potentially leg-breaking 6 foot drop. Someone had done me a favour and flexed the chain link fence in such a way it was at about stomach height where it was level with the ground. I put one knee on the fence and then the other knee on. Before i could realize, my weight shifted and flexible chain link fence gave way, tipping me forward, face first into the green grass and packed earth.

My forehead and nose hit the ground with an audible thunk and i passed out for about a second. When i opened my eyes- my glasses had fallen off and i was lying on my bag- thereby exploding a pot of yogurt that was in there.

My head spun and by God, it hurt! And i still had another fence to climb. The other fence was less of a challenge because the fence was bent to knee height. Managed that without slamming my face into the ground ran off to get changed and get rowing.

It was all for nothing.

One girl didnt show, so we couldnt make it out cos there was no one to replace her. To add insult in to injury, all my stuff was covered in budget low fat strawberry yogurt. It gets gross because the milk goes bad and my stuff starts smelling of old milk. At least there was sun and we munched on carrot sticks (courtesy of me) while we waited for the evil rail replacement bus.

I went home- head still thrumming away and my hearing doing funky things. I couldnt even watch tv, my brain wouldnt concentrate and the thrumming getting steadily louder in my head. I went to sleep for 4 hours that afternoon.

It was a good friend's birthday that evening, so i went out for drinks at Brick Lane. It was a good night out- the music and company pleasant as wine flowed. My hearing was still off- background noise was really loud, but i could not make out what people were saying to me. Lots of cigarettes and highly inappropriate talk about Chris Cornell, rock groupies and voyeurism later we decided to call it a night. Before heading home we went for beigels (hot bagels at 1 am post night out) which made a good night so much better.

Boys with long dreadlocks

I love boys with long dreadlocks. A shining example would be the lead singer of Shadows Fall, Brian Fair. His dreadlocks fall past his bum and when he headbangs it is something to see. They're a pretty decent heavy metal band, the first time i heard them was at the Download Festival. I was totally in awe of the hair.

And of course, the classic dreadlocked man, Bob Marley. His son Damian Marley has impressive dreadlocks too.

Bob

Damian

Blond dreadlocks are also fetching. A cute example is the lead guitarist of Tokio Hotel, Tom Kaulitz. He's very pretty for a boy, and he's got an identical twin named Bill who has emo hair (that can be very big at times). This is all true, even down to the names. The music's not half bad either........Ok,ok, i confess, i love the emo-ness of it all. Even if it is in German.

Bill and Tom

Well, the reason im suddenly all crazy about dreads today is because there is the cutest guy working in the hospital with the sweetest dreads. First spotted while fixing the roof about 3 weeks ago, then saw him on the bus back two days ago...Today he was behind me in the cafeteria line. He's cute.

Dreadhead HQ