It's where i ramble, so my friends that i love and never email know what i'm up to, so i get to scream with some degree of anonymity and just vent because sometimes, there's no one to talk to
who the hell you are and what are you doing here who they are, their age and what they for a living [you nosy bugger] Why are they seeing you?
ICE,ICE BABY:
So, any Idea what's going on? Any particular Concerns? What are you Expecting? [not a cure i hope]
THE MEATY EXPLAINING BIT:
What the hell is it? [a rash, nasty mucus everywhere, you going crazy]
What caused it? [fungus, nasty genes, chemical imbalance]
How common is it? [lots-people just dont talk about it, 1 in 4000 among white caucasians, a few people here or there]
What were the things that made you get it? [infrequent baths, marrying cousins, too much weed]
What's the problem then (complications......)? short term:[itchy-itchy everywhere, bad lungs+gut, killing your cat] long term: [not ever getting laid, dying young, killing yourself]
How to fix it? [a cream, the MDT*, lotsa meds and a hospital stay]
What and who's gonna be involved? *the MDT - like the best answer ever- the multidiscliplinary team can handle anything and everything.
QUS, QUS TO FINISH:
Any Questions? Do you actually Understand the words that are coming outta my mouth? Don't forget the ever important information leaflet Summarise- just quickly cover what is it and how to fix it. Reassure, empathize, show love.
The exams were traumatic. Somehow this year i went in with less fear and worry, not bacause i felt i was prepared or knowledgeable; but i think i have truly lost hope.
The eternal optimist has given up.
I want to be a good person, but i just know i can't. I used to hope i could, but now that i know i am not capable. Not that im not capable of being a mediocrely good person, i just wont be the great person i wanted to.
Last night was terrible. I was so upset while trying to cram neurology and bursting into spasms of tears between questions. I was talking to myself, talking to God, getting angry, sad and tired. I didnt sleep too well but i didnt think it affected the exam much, except i was yawning halfway through.
I went food shopping today. My fridge is was empty and i was living off chocolate biscuits and non-coffee caffeine drinks- since my chat with Rana about her mother's insistence that meat is good for you i went out and bought lots of meat.
Talk about circumstantiality.
The sign is i found a banana yoshimoto at the local charity shop. It's called N.P. There's a lot in there about suicide and the melancholy in living but also love, friendship and family. Unlike Kitchen or Hardboiled/Hardluck this is just one story.
A few people top themselves in the story. I dont think i will, yet. The problem if i do top myself now is that i'll leave a horrible mess behind that someone has to clean up. It's great cos if im dead there's no mess to handle, but i dislike the idea of making trouble for other people.
I've established that my melancholy, that chronic low grade depression on top of my baseline paranoid, narcissistic, dependent-avoidant personality disorder is the root of my problems. Because all my issues are internal, whatever happens im gonna be sad always.
Anyway, im sleepy and tired and will start revising for practicals now. My baselines are stable. Im serene in my misery because i know i have no power to change it.
What's malay for 'knocked up'? Is it terlanjur? What a word, it even sounds wrong. I find malay so much more colorful and expressive, though a little disgusting when discussing certain things.
Lovely song- sweet yet a little twisted, just how i like it. Sexy as hell.
I exist only for myself. This exists only for myself.
It is my catharsis, but i think i have let it all out.
I have nothing new, original or novel to contribute. To this blog or to anyone, anything else.
Im like a cassette, overplayed, wearing thin. Flip once, flip twice, fast-forward, ooops, rewind.
Now, all the brown tape has been pulled out, extruded. Loops brown stringy stuff that breaks with a snap when you pull too hard. Break that plastic case. Stamp on it.
Some reason, this is the song of the moment. I prefer the more polished Decemberist version, more mellow, less electric guitar action.
It's all about the story.
My mother was a Chinese trapeze artist In pre-war Paris Smuggling bombs for the underground. And she met my father At a fete in Aix-en-Provence. He was disguised as a Russian cadet in the employ of the Axis. And there in the half-light Of the provincial midnight To a lone concertina They drank in cantinas And toasted to Edith Piaf And the fall of the Reich.
My sister was born in a hovel in Burgundy And left for the cattle But later was found by a communist Who'd deserted his ranks To follow his dream To start up a punk rock band in South Carolina. I get letters sometimes. They bought a plantation She weeds the tobacco He offends the nation And they write, "Don't be a stranger, y'hear? Sincerely, your sister."
So my parents had me To the disgust of the prostitutes On a bed in a brothel. Surprisingly raised with tender care 'Til the money got tight And they bet me away To a blind brigadier in a game Of high stakes canasta. But he made me a sailor On his brigadier ship fleet. I know every yardarm From main mast to jib sheet. But sometimes I long to be landlocked And to work in a bakery.
It's a great story isn't it? The bit i love the most is the part the bit about the communist who raised his sister and how he left cos he wanted to start a punk rock band in South Carolina. It's very sad, the fact that she was abandoned for cattle, but then, it reminded me of the stories i'd here about the old times where people just couldn't afford to raise kids. They had to give them to wealthier neighbours, families or friends so they could have a decent life- love was letting go, perhaps not in a field of cattle to be raised growing tobacco with a punk rock communist but knowing when all you can do is just not enough.
Still, betting a kid on a game on high stake canasta is something i wouldn't do. The saddest bit of the song has gotta be the last two lines- don't we all wish for a simpler, radically different life? Hmmm......i complain it's so hard, but i want it life to be different, challenging, adventurous so i have stories to tell them at bedtime.
Im off to Bedfordshire now. Lotsa work and Kendo for tomorrow. You'all stay in touch now, i really miss you guys you know. Wish me luck and proxy-hug someone. I'll feel the love-vibes even if im hiding in our holy library. Or beating someone with a stick, with a grill covering my face (kendo armour)
In the morning i had the most vivid dream of Ryan Reynolds snuggled against me in bed, telling me to wake up and get to my psych lecture. Why Ryan Reynolds? Not sure, maybe it's his character in 2 guys, a girl and a pizza place that got me hooked- if there was a perfect man, he'd probably be it.
(God, if there is a perfect man for me, let him look a like Ryan Reynolds (the man looks soooo good with scruff) and have a sweet irreverent sense of humour as well. He should also be utterly obsessed with me. Thanks. Amin.)
But guys like that would NOT go for obese, unhappy stupid girls who read Conan comics instead of neurology all afternoon.
In my stressed state i today i wolfed down 3000 calories. Mostly in the form of Kinder Bueno and some bread with sweet onion chutney. While alternating between Conan and Neurology. I called it quits after a 4 hour attempt and now im home, thinking i just want it be dark and cool- all this light and heat is doing my head in.
On my way home, cycling in my emotionally and mentally fragile state without a helmet i almost get hit by a bus and then got water ballooned. It hit the bike, splashing my legs mostly and a few drops on my t-shirt.
Today's t-shirt is the threadless one with a reflective bike on it. I didnt look in the mirror this morning and later realized that the bicycle wheels circle my boobs, exactly. Funny threadless, very funny.
Im skipping the gym today- a stress treat. Im taking a honey bath and see if can drown myself. To be fair im more of a poisoning kinda girl.
Now im off to sleep. at 8.45 pm. A week before exams. Maybe death is sweet escape.
I understand it's hot. But really guys, why do all of you need to take your tops off? It's terribly distracting and i've been caught staring more than once. I know you all want a tan- but how many of you wear sunscreen?
Ok, health promotion bit over. Now stop distracting me and put some clothes on. Talking about distractions- i was innocently watching TV, a show called "embarrassing bodies"- you know, all about health issues that people tend to not see their doctors about. Well today they had a whole rugby team strip off; willies swing away, pale bums on show, jumping into the communal showers. Then they had all these guys take their towels off and examine their balls.
Im there, on my sofa with my plate of mash potatoes going, "what?!" All in the name of education, eh? Im not getting excited, merely surprised at the stuff their allowing on TV at 9 o'clock at night.
Anyway, this girls gotta work so i can enjoy my english summer.
I got a letter from my (future) insurance company.
"In view of your height weight ratio it is necessary to impose an extra premium on your application"
merde.
im only a very dense size 16, ok 18 cos i've been binge eating with the essay stress.
putain.
they also need to know if i've seen my doctor since i applied for the policy- i hate to admit i have, it's the dodgy knee!
Insurance is depressing and expensive. Worse- i have to pay double the usual premium because im a fat fuck. The shame, the horror. Im both embarrassed and indignant.
Burned time and watched rushmore. I may have wasted prime study time, but the movie is sweet.
Kinda makes me want to be brave, dare to make mistakes and if it does happen, be ok with losing everything and starting over again. (that last bit was from the Lush philosophy- even soap companies have philosophies nowadays)
Though, it does make me feel a little suicidal. At the moment even tea could make me suicidal.
Some days, i wish i had just killed myself when i was 15 and spared myself all the misery.
Later, in the night, alone....
I wonder why this song makes me feel regretful. Not very suicidal, just a little sad that im still alive. Funny for a song from a detergent advertisement. Maybe if i had known then that i would be this way now i would have been a little more decisive in my actions. Sometimes i feel like im being kept alive rather than living.
And we dont really want to realize our full potential- what if it's bollocks? If we never tried, then there's always that chance, hope that you could be amazing.
from Ka-chan.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Snow patrol's one of those bands who arent lookers, but a great listen. They've polished up, looks-wise for the new album, but it's no justin timberlake.
Listening to Snow patrol invokes my deeply ingrained, much suppressed need to love and be loved. It make me want to get a soulmate or a cat. It puts longing and sweet misery to music- just right for my current cuddle-less, stressful and hope-less days.
I try and be angry, thinking it'll make the need go away. I forget about it, too busy to realize something's missing, but then i have snow patrol to remind me. I don't get mad at them, it's not their fault im like this; im rather thankful for the reminder- forgetting is a terrible thing.
If i had a whim to indulge now it would be to study japanese and french cinema- a reason to justify watching lots of films in languages that fascinate me, just by their sound.
Pas grand chose- i guessed the meaning before i babel-ed fished it, really.
By Monsieur Beautiful Bread, oh how i wish for beautiful bread. Some warm brioche with butter and rich strawberry jam- sweet with a hint of sourness. All fluffy butterness- i can't think of brioche without smelling it; the sweet, warming smell.
The smell of sunshine and warmth. The sound of french being spoken. Alas Monsieur Beaupain, i have no idea of what you are saying in that typical male french singing voice. I say typical, typical i mean like Gainsbourg- more like speaking lyrically, beautifully in time with music. The choice for our now overplayed Mr. Beautiful Bread is a backing of pure piano, an instrument, till today seems so insurmountably difficult that i am in awe and terribly jealous of anyone who plays well. Any musical instrument really, because i am so inept in melody and ear, i cannot even harness my voice.
Oh truly, do i love bread. Mind you, germanic black bread doesn't set my heart a-flutter as pillow-soft potato bread nor does flour-less, sprouted seed bread that my mother used to buy us in a phased of lapsed tastebuds and health-food frenzy. We never got brioche at home, but if i ever have children i will be a baker and own a grand oven when they are mere playschoolers so they can watch with fascination as the wings of skewered chickens pop open as it goes round and round on the spit and smell the aroma of fresh baked bread, watching it rise as they play in the oven-warmed kitchen.
I miss home. The home that my parents semi-built with it's infinitely lofty ceiling in the living room that was impossible to cool. Where we had a massive oven and a corner of the kitchen that always smelt of rabbit food, even though we never own rabbits. The kitchen where i first baked cupcakes, the mix from a box with overly sweet pink icing and a Beano wafer on the top. The room that was all mine, with it's double bed that i rarely slept it, because i preferred sleeping in the tent pitched in my parent's massive room. The times when we had dinner on the porch, watching the fishes, trying to figure out which fish was eating which. The first floor balcony that was never finished because we left before it could be done. During a full moon the back garden was beautiful, especially during blackouts- he always took us on long drives then so we could cool off in the car and fall asleep to the radio. Would Air Supply still lull me to sleep?
No sleep tonight- i manage to finish a whole historical novel on dracula; the ending slightly disappointing and the story a little long, but i enjoyed it anyway. It is a long novel, about one and three quarters of an inch thick. The essay is far from done and not academic at all. I am fearful, for my adviser would not reply my emails.
Keep me company a little while more Monsieur Beaupain, while i wrack my brains and the internet for ethical and moral treatise for and against killing babies.
In more elegant terms i am a miserable failure that should not be here. I cannot believe my idiocy. I know this will sound like crazy talk, or the beginnings of schizophrenia; but i swear there is the good side of me that is industrious, hard-working and intelligent. Then there is the 'devil' who is a lazy, stupid daydreamer. Sadly im not very good at repressing the devil, hence the current dilemma.
I should just exterminate that bitch and bring Liza back.
I wish i had the resolve, the strength, the discipline.
But i guess this is a lesson that will keep on repeating itself until i learn. The universe wants me to learn and at this point i think my future happiness depends on me learning this lesson well and finally getting it right, now and forever.
Former roomate was down for the weekend- it was short, but a whirlwind as usual!
The 3 fags and a hag (moi) made it to Priscilla, Queen of the Desert! To add to the campy factor it's the west-end musical version!
I loved it- the hotter than hot men in drag....i have never seen so many delicious bums on stage. The costumes were beyond amazing- taking bell bottoms to the next level, with the odd bare bottom to boot. I have fallen in love with ostrich feathers and big, big headresses.....Oh, and the skirts that looks like cupcakes.....owh......the love of drag!
The music- all our campy favourites: tina turner, kylie, "i will survive" and then some.
A new introduction is what can only be described as the "someone left a cake in the rain" song.
If you have 4 minutes of your life to waste, as you inadvertly do now, watch the donna summer original. The good bits start at 0:35 and it gets groovy at 1:12.
Oh, of course, the Gloria Gaynor classic!
Check out the headpieces!
There's even a ping-pong reference- oh, and ping-pong balls rained from the sky, in pink! The story is sweet- it's about a bunch of ladies who take their act from Sydney across the aussie desert in a pink camper van/ tour bus named Priscilla. And the adventures they have.
It's a little like "To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar" which is one of my favourite-tess movies ever.
Must get DVD.
And the icing on the weekend of no (school) work must be Britney's circus tour. Ex-roomie wanted company and so got me tickets so i could go and watch it with him. What can i say, I loved it!!!!
From the opening by Perez Hilton,
to the acrobatics and sexy-sexy dancers it was a true circus! Glitzy, glamourous sets and the people hanging from the ceiling was so cool. And it helped that i knew most of the songs cos ex-roomie used to have britney on loop. She looked pretty good- she's almost back on form and the format of the whole show helped. I was pretty amazed at how much i really enjoyed it, but then, those who know me will understand. I ain't called Queen-E for nuthin, you know? I was dancing along for most of the gig, only thing was i had my massive coat and was wearing my skinny jeans and a black t-shirt with flip flops. So not a britney gig-wear. Still i had such a good time, even B was amazed.
not my video, but pretty much the same. B has some wicked piccies. This song brings back B and me coasting "the lost world" in K.L. Wild times.
Well, today was a bit quieter. B had an early morning flight home and me a 5 hour revision session. Coming down from the high now but im still rocking the "someone left a cake out in the rain" song. Donna summers rocks.
I bumped into their song Black Balloon while blog surfing awhile ago. Limewiring proved futile so i looked them up on Itunes.
At the same time i was youtubing The Kills and heard Alphabet Pony- you know it's good when it induces myoclonic jerks (in a good way)
The comments on Itunes were favorable but bargain hunting showed that the record Midnight Boom was cheaper there (and a CD i can share).
It arrived yesterday- it's 12 songs of dirty sexy, crazy sad music. I've been a bit disappointed by my musical choices recently, but this is the best in awhile.
It's a bit like a night out with the boys- fun, trouble, a little wrong and the next day you think, 'Goodnight Bad Morning'.
I eat dinner at the kitchen table By the light that switches on I eat leftovers with mashed potatoes
No more candlelight No more romance No more small talk when the hunger's gone
I eat dinner at the kitchen table and I wash it down with pop I eat leftovers with mashed potatoes
No more candlelight No more romance No more small talk when the hunger stops
Never thought that I'd end up this way I who loved the sparks Never thought my hair'd be turning to grey Used to be so dark So dark
Never thought that I'd end up like this I who love the night Never thought I'd be without a kiss No one to turn out the light Turn out the light
I eat dinner at the kitchen table By the light of the tv screen I eat leftovers with mashed potatoes
When the plate is clean When the hunger's gone
-rufus wainwright, i eat dinner-
It feels a little like this.
The everyday-ness of it all, the nagging worry that this is possibly as good as it gets. That i will forever be this way-more than a little unhappy, struggling to make life mean something.
If life was Hollywood, something amazing will happen to change my life forever, in a good way, soon. I'll get thin, get my hair done, make new friends, suddenly come into a lot of money and have the time of my life. Then decide the superficial materialistic life is not for me and work in Africa saving babies.
If life was Bollywood i'd meet a guy my parents hate, elope, pass medical exams, have kids, have major family bonding drama and live happily ever after. With lots of song and dance routines in between, with many costume changes.
If this was french cinema all you will see is me writing my essay forever, pacing about in my room, alone, talking about killing babies; falling asleep in libraries and filling my sad little clay pot full of cigarettes butts.
If life was a korean drama someone will try to mug me on my way home but i get saved by a good looking gangster sort who should be about a foot taller than me. We will date, fall in love and almost marry. He will get involved in a gang war, i'll get kidnapped and he will try to save me (again). I will get saved, he'll die (sad moment there) and 5 years later working in a hospital somewhere i'll meet his long lost twin brother.
It's always the person you least expects that says something that totally changes my life.
A comment from a colleague has now made me re-think my malaysian elective.
Damn. South America will cost at least 3ooo quid. And i'l have to work on spanish.
And other places i'd like to go to are central america or the indian subcontinent... India has always been in the back of my mind, plus it's close to home; central america is a new revelation, but looks promising.
It all requires money or lots of time to organize if i wanna save money and self plan. Argh!
haha, this suits my sudden obsession with full metal panic (my anime otaku-ness rears it's ugly head). Hah, someone, somewhere thought Zac Efron would make a good Sousuke Sagara. What an idea- a gay pride mecha.
It'll be ok. It will- you work better under pressure anyway.
It's turning nice now, isn't it? It always does for study season- warm sun, such longing for freedom.
Hhhmmmm- you still living in a fictional world? You really should face up to reality- turning into a hikikomori will not do anything for you complexion and your life. It's nice to escape, an hour a day is sufficient, no?
Wiki-chan, elaborate please:
Hikikomori(ひきこもり or 引き籠もり,Hikikomori, lit. "pulling away, being confined", i.e., "acute social withdrawal") is a Japanese term to refer to the phenomenon of reclusive individuals who have chosen to withdraw from social life, often seeking extreme degrees of isolation and confinement because of various personal and social factors in their lives. The term hikikomori refers to both the sociological phenomenon in general as well as to individuals belonging to this societal group.
Symptoms:
While many people feel the pressures of the outside world,hikikomori react by complete social withdrawal. In some cases, they lock themselves in a room for prolonged periods, sometimes measured in years. They usually have few, if any friends.
Hikikomori often set their own sleep schedules, typically waking in the afternoon and going to bed early in the morning. Their days are characterized by long spells of sleeping, while nighttime hours are spent watching TV, drawing, playing computer games, surfing the Internet, reading, listening to music, and other non-social activities. While hikikomori favor indoor activities, most venture outdoors on occasion, though they prefer to do so at night.
The withdrawal from society usually starts gradually. Affected individuals may appear unhappy, lose their friends, become insecure, shy, and talk less. Those in their teens may be bullied at school, which, atop the already high pressures of school and family, may be the final trigger for withdrawal.
Moi je joue Moi je joue a joue contre joue Je veux jouer a joue contre vous Mais vous, le voulez-vous? De tout coeur Je veux gagner ce coeur a coeur Vous connaissez mon jeu par coeur Alors defendez-vous
Sans tricher, je vous le promets J'ai gagné, tant pis c'est bien fait Vous êtes mon jouet A présent, ce ne sera plus vous mais toi Et tu feras ca t'apprendra N'importe quoi pour moi
Sans m'en faire, je vais t'assurer Un enfer de griffes et de crocs Tu crieras bientot "Au secours" Alors décidant de ton sort Pour m'éviter quelques remords Je t'aimerai plus fort Oh oui plus fort Oh oui oui oui, plus fort
Staying in hotels is nice. Today i crashed at my uncle's hotel room- having room service breakfast (a most divine pot of coffee with fluffy scrambled eggs, smoked salmon and toast). Skipped lectures and dragged self home to unpack goodies from home.
Not to be ungrateful, but here's the whinge of the century.
I have always wanted a kebaya for raya. I have a lovely hot pink one, but i cant wear it because it's just too small. So i thought, let's just get one made. We spent loads of money on the material for the top and really expensive kain for my pario (which is like a piece of cloth to be tied around the waist like so.
My mom sent it through my uncle and oh my god, it's awful. Such a fucking waste of good fabric. I had no fucking idea what the tailor was thinking. She made me a loose kebaya moden, just cut short. What was she fucking thinking? It's just stupid, so goddamn stupid.
I really need to explain properly. Evidently not everyone subscribes to my vision.
having it tailor made would have solved the problem of my narrow shoulders, sizeable bust and behind which store-bought kebaya tops dont cater for. Between the sizeable bust and bum, there is a waist which can be emphasized with the right cut of outfit, which was the idea with having it fucking tailor made.
If i wanted a bad fit would just wear my old baju kurungs that are 2 sizes too big anyway.
a waste of soo much fucking money and fucking effort- i am so freaking, fucking disappointed i wanted to cry. my throat is chocking up and im sobbing at the sheer injustice of it. I sent hours with mom hunting down the materials- and now it's ugly.
Not just ugly that i wouldnt wear it for laura's wedding or raya, but so ugly and badly fitted that i wouldnt wear with anything else (even the old store bought white kebaya top from years ago i still wear with jeans).
It doesnt fit at the shoulders, the arms are too big, there are no waist darts so it makes me look shapeless. Losing weight wont help at bad shoulder fit. the ultimate pet peeve- is a little puff of material i get just under the coller on my back- a sign that the shoulders are too big. She measured me for fuck's sake- i dont fucking get it!!!! Even if i lost weight my shoulders will not get any smaller!
I need to stop. The more i write the more fucking livid and angry i get and i really dont need this. Im hyperventilating from the anger and getting a headache. I feel like ripping the outfit to shreds, but i wont, it'll just make my mom upset. She didnt even line the top. Fucking disaster.
I'll never make any outfit with her ever again. Ever. Stupid tailors piss me off.
All this anger belies my sadness at the realization that i am irrevocably ugly. Maybe the tailor is not stupid (still i'll never make a outfit with her again- she's ruined so many of my outfit requests in the past- i have 4 shirts from her i never wear). Maybe she's a good tailor to my mom, but not me. ).The issue is that im special (in a retarded, "special" kinda sense.) Im so wierdly shaped that i need a tailor who cares and understands- im not built like everyone else. Im not like other fat people. Im a petite person in covered in layers of adipose tissue i cant remove- make clothes that fit me dammit, not other big people. I bet if you gave my outfit to another big lady she'll wear it well. It's just that im special, im irrecovably ugly.
I wanted to call you, but i didnt. I know you'd probably make me feel a little better, but i just couldn't.
Im feeling a little empty today. Hollow, but quiet. I can't even go to the gym to sweat it out cos i re-injured my knee. I would've been great if i could just do something instead of staying in my room all day, watching tv shows that only make me feel more empty.
I stayed in bed a lot, in that limbo between sleep and wakefulness where the subconcious rules. I am plagued by the sheer amount of things i need to do, but overwhelmed by lassisude that makes me unable to do anything. Nothing.
I'd like to disappear- go somewhere where i can start again. Reinvent myself; i'll probably fall into the same traps and hate myself all over again but at least there'll be that little bit of time where im capable of anything because i have not failed yet.
Hell, i hate this. Im still in my pyjamas and my knee wont straighten or bend fully. It hurts too, the painkillers stop working when i start moving. i may run off to the library later and stay late; a change of environment so perhaps i can work better.
If only my work could give me a sense of purpose. Some focus and motivation.
I lost my former debit solo card recently and now have been issued with a shiny new visa card!
It's brilliant and it's dangerous.
I have recently taken ebay and amazon off my bookmarks bar because i spent nearly 200 quid in 2 days- most of it on a cute bag (buzz would've screamed at me and told be to add another 100 quid and get myself a LV) and things i dont really need. I love my leopard print hoodie and can't wait for my cycle basket though!
Ebay has been easy because paypal deals with everything. When i needed meds to keep me awake last year, i struggled to find a site that would take paypal as payment (solo is not useful in online shopping).
Visa on the other hand- is accepted nearly everywhere, especially with online pharmacy companies.
Oh dear, how will i be able to resist? There's drugs for everything- to help my chronic sleepyness, meds to make me happy, even some to make me thin. No drugs yet to make me less socially awkward, but some say there are meds (off-license usage) that can help with the brain performance.
Compensating is going tachycardic after losing a lot of blood
Decompensating is dropping the blood pressure and going tachycardic
Compensating is staying in an hour extra after coming in late
Decompensating is being the emergency department's lackey because im not coming in this weekend
Compensating is having a good cry
Decompensating is not being able to cry
Compensating is study frenzy and lack of sleep to finish work
Decompensating is frenzied panic and too much sleep
Compensating dancing and singing to css
Decompensating listening to a perfect's circle weak and powerless on loop, wondering how the exit pattern would look like if i shot myself point blank over the pterion.
i found a note this morning while cleaning out the nuclear waste disposal site that is my room. It's written on a small square of paper, scribbled in pencil. In my barely legible scrawl:
The man is not for you Not for you Not for you It's not gonna happen-ever!
I write funny things when i dont pay attention. It's telling- why do i not deserve this man? I have no idea who i was writing about now, but at the time i must've felt some form of anguish over the said gentleman. What's telling is that feeling that i do not deserve any good that might come my way; that I do not think that the decent fellow could be for me. It's that sense in the back of my mind that my life now, as good as it may be, is down to luck and fate and i really shouldn't hope for more. Checks and balances- if something else is to get better, something must suffer.
Moral of the story: gotta take a shower, i've got class in an hour. Dont sleep, drink coffee instead.
Google maps is a new world wonder. Makes me have faith that new technology is created to benefit mankind.
I am reliant on google maps for many things- booking hotels in the middle of a new city, checking my new cycle route and of course, finding addresses.
There's this amazing new fangled thing it does where you can actually view the road and move forward or backwards- no need to scout that new cycle route, I'll just use google maps to check out the road so come monday i'll just pedal along, giving myself a little extra time cos it's a new place and all.
Wicked huh.
Oh yeah, a 90's classic for a cycle song. Can't find the original anywhere on youtube, here's a decent version, i suppose
It's all to do with a lack of passion. Its not knowing what i want or what i like.
I dont even enjoy food anymore. Eating is just too stop my tummy grumbling and satisfy my need for sweet or salty taste in my mouth. I might as well live off salt and sugar by the looks of the crap im feeding myself.
I really need a shower and to wash my hair. Im losing hair- must be the lack passion and excitement causing even my hair to die and fall out.
Give me a reason to get excited waking up in the morning, will ya?
Im getting a tooth surgically removed. Im not looking forward to it. In fact, i dont want it out. Leave my damn tooth- with enough love and encouragement un-impact itself and come out. It needs a little time, just like me.
So bad that i went into a negative balance (less than 24 hours, only 22 quid)- guess i have to go have a nice little chat with my bank manager again......
had to pay a pound for 10 minutes of internet at the airport to fix that (sucking my savings dry!)
But yeah, im heading home to malaysia. At stansted now. Had to use emergency credit card to buy train tickets to airport, it was pure desperation!
It's probably an extra-dural hematoma, compressing my brainstem.
I managed to bash my head against another persons head while i was cleaning the floor at kendo practice.
I had good speed, going steady and *bam* my head made contact with someone else's head going at full speed.
*Itai!*
I kinda fell over sideways- i loss my balance and i was in pain. I asked her how she was- she was more concerned about me. I told her i was I fine, but the truth is it bloody hurt. i still have the headache. And a sore spot on the top of my head.
To make it worse i had to don full, freaking armour. Squeeze my head/face into a helmet that kinda smells and restricts movements. Plus the grills conveniently goes across my eyes and blocks out any peripheral version. It also covers my ears so i cant hear people speak.
Wearing this allowed people to hit me back- which hurt my ego more that anything else. I felt claustrophobic and hot. It is terrible. I bet i looked as uncomfortable as i felt.
I nearly had a panic attack today. Working in that hot library, the air felt still and heavy. CSS pounded through my headphones and i did the techno rock eighties jerk at random points of the day when i couldn't suppress the need any longer.
Had a good/short workout later and feeling a lot calmer. I almost feel a compulsion to play "Alala" and "Rat is Dead (Rage)" but i know it's just make me do the myoclonic jerks as im sitting here, trying to compose my essay on killing babies.
By the way, in much need of a hug. If you see me, surprise me with one.
"alala, alala give me 3 wishes"
"i know, i know, i know, i know he will never hurt you again rat is dead"
It's peaceful and quiet. Im on my own and itunes are picking slow, quiet, contemplative songs.
It feels like the end of an era. I want to cry, but i dont know why. There's so much to do, yet i dont have the will. I have this feeling of foreboding, that things will never be the same past today. Like today is the slow ascent of a rollercoaster before i plummet to the melee below. Im scared of tomorrows, of the rest of my life. i dont know what's coming next.
I am a mess. It's only tuesday. Im only 24 years and 22 days old.
Iman suggested (tagged me on facebook) this one. A nugget of truth, here and there. Very interesting/weird/how does that reflect my personality?! questions. Take it here
My results:
Your view on yourself: Other people find you very interesting, but you are really hiding your true self. Your friends love you because you are a good listener. They'll probably still love you if you learn to be yourself with them. (I sure hope so............)
The type of girlfriend/boyfriend you are looking for: You are a true romantic. When you are in love, you will do anything and everything to keep your love true.(That so does not answer the question)
Your readiness to commit to a relationship: You are ready to commit as soon as you meet the right person. And you believe you will pretty much know as soon as you meet that person. (Woah.....totally off the mark. I wouldn't know my soulmate if he serenades outside my window, i'll just lob him with a coffee mug and tell him to shut up)
The seriousness of your love: Your have very sensible tactics when approaching the opposite sex. In many ways people find your straightforwardness attractive, so you will find yourself with plenty of dates. (Straightforwardness? Plenty of dates? Sensible tactics? What tactics?! I might be old, but i am so unskilled at the seduction thing)
Your views on education Education is very important in life. You want to study hard and learn as much as you can. (I concur)
The right job for you: You're a practical person and will choose a secure job with a steady income. Knowing what you like to do is important. Find a regular job doing just that and you'll be set for life. (Sad, but true. I am practical. I get it from my mother)
How do you view success: You are afraid of failure and scared to have a go at the career you would like to have in case you don't succeed. Don't give up when you haven't yet even started! Be courageous. (On the mark! I should be braver)
What are you most afraid of: You are afraid of having no one to rely on in times of trouble. You don't ever want to be unable to take care of yourself. Independence is important to you. (hmmmmm.......i have to ponder this one)
Who is your true self: You are mature, reasonable, honest and give good advice. People ask for your comments on all sorts of different issues. Sometimes you might find yourself in a dilemma when trapped with a problem, which your heart rather than your head needs to solve. (Maybe when i finally grow up. In mimi's wise words; growing old is compulsory, growing up is optional. )
i love waking up in that living room. I hope they never move. It's full of light, even if it's cloudy outside.
Post-drinking binge it's wonderful.
I wake to the smell of toast and the sound of the kettle boiling. There's a cuppa waiting for me; milk and sugar please. Early morning conversation, more plans for tonight?! Listening to Tragic Kingdom and Fall Out Boy while still in yesterday's jeans and top.
Since i left a toothbrush here- it's perfect! I can walk down the road to catch the bus home with clean teeth. Clean teeth is wonderful too, like light, warm hoodies and good-lookin' boys named John.
I left her outside for about 1.5 hours. And when i went down to get her later, she was gone. I parked her outside my building, tied to a parking pole. It was noon, and i was excited because my new clothes had just arrived.I locked her, im pretty sure, unless the lock didnt click in properly.
It hurts. I was so confident i was gonna have her forever. Im so dependent on her it's scary- i ride her everywhere now, especially since i live so far away. And i know i lost her due to my own carelessness.
Im spooked too- im not gonna be able to park any bike without worrying about it being stolen. I have been a victim of crime.
I have to get those MARA claims through, i need the money for the bike and kendo armour (mom, i promise this is not a phase....i'll try and make it last longer than rowing.)
The Apology Song by the Decemberists -about losing a bike. Almost the same situation as i lost mine.
I've bummed a bike off a friend for awhile, but i'll miss you Chloe.
I've been thinking about Kendo a lot. How great it is and how i really am not designed to do Kendo. And how i suck, no matter what sensei-with-cute-kid or ginger-sensei says. I am also thinking about going for tuesday practise at the gym.
I feel much better after eating and having a short but proper workout. A good ergo feels so good, even if it was just 10 minutes. I made 2 km and it was smooth, sustained at the end, with a little hiccup in the beginning.
My sick body was not quite able to deal with the fasting today, but that's a day struck off my the fasts i owe. I'll give tomorrow a break and maybe try thursday.
Im still fugly and i still dont like myself, but biochemically my brain is releasing tonnes of chemicals that make me take it a lot better. I get runner's high. If im short of drugs/booze/glue/cigarettes all i need is to go get some exercise. Funny how i still haven't gotten addicted to exercise yet.
I've made nasi lemak and i have sambal sotong, but i feel guilty to eat. I've gained a kilo according to the gym's scale, and those scale are the TRUTH. I might have a little bit. Just a little bit.
It take me ages to get outta bed, like an hour of shutting up constant alarms, convincing myself i do wanna get outta bed now. Sleeping less is near impossible with me.
But waking up feeling fat and ugly is not a great way to start. Hair everywhere, puffy-puffy face all pale and crater-full. I hate my physical appearance. I hate the way i speak, the way i write, the way i feel. I hate being me. I wish i could be someone else all the time. I did try but it didnt stick.
Listening to Neutral Milk Hotel doesnt help either, especially if you're not comely. I know no one will come save me and im sick and tired of trying so hard. So tired. What is it all for? Why do i do it? Primp and prune, slap loads of cream on my face, goddamned so called "beauty rituals" that dont work on the ugly? Why do i try exercise, work hard, pay money for the gym when i know i'll be fat forever because i must have pissed off someone, somewhere and this is the worst punishment you can have as a woman living in a developed country in the 21st century. It is a curse. Im not even smart enough to say that is a compensation for the fugly.
OK, i have to get back to work. I will feel better later in the day because this is depression, plain and simple. Except no one is convinced because i "function" OK. Just OK, not brilliant, just OK. No fluoxetine for you if you are functional. Nope- just get on with it.
Im still in my towel, post purple bath. It's a full moon outside, round and radiant. Im picking out bits of aniseed and currants outta my hair- dont ask, just buy Lush.
I forgot how much i love Lush. Thanks Kikie for my birthday present- which is a lovely selection of relaxing bath bits from Lush. This purple bath was to purify, clear my head a little and for me to settle my nerves. A little over-medicated again. :( [Ka-chan, don't be angry please- you must try to understand].
I will settle back to work again, right after i put some clothes on. Sleeping naked is fine, but working naked is a wee bit much.
I succeeded in wasting last week- the bloody essay is not even started and my plastic watch strap is giving me contact dermatitis (i.e red scaly patches on my wrists).
So here are my expectations:
To read all of neuro and psych by thursday (exam is friday morning)
To have all my points for my compare and contrast essay (it is 8000 bloody words)
To gym everyday (i just watched run lola run and hell, running is essential to life, like swimming and cycling- i'll be gentle with myself, it's a slowly but surely process)
Get back on my 6 mini-meals a day program.
Get cracking on that fresher guide (at least the phone/bank bit)
Sleep less. Just this week. Just this week.
Stop lying to yourself Lizzie. It's not gonna get better, you're not gonna do it later, stop kidding yourself. It all boils down to procrastination. Everything that goes wrong with your life is because you're to fucking scared/lazy to fix it now. There is no later, no tomorrows. Everything takes time and it has to start now, now now!
Beautiful song! Love how there's two versions- both acoustic, but one is with the full band and the first just him and his guitar. That voice is just perfect. Sweet, clear with a touch of huski-ness. Owh, i just wanna cry at how pretty the song and his voice is.
The full band bit is cheerful, belies the deeper lyrics. I like the first bit more than the second bit but i bob to the second bit- it would feature in eliza's indie disco, right at the end of the night.
Oh, what is a closet romantic optimist to do?
Play out a romantic situations with people i know in it. I'd like to think that this would be a perfect song for him to sing to her. I have romantic notions for everyone- yes, i make little romantic dramas outta all of your lives.
In spite of the hi-jinks on friday and my bruised budget, my plan for week-long celebrations have gone well.
I dont feel any different, but i contrast this year's "let's just party" attitude to my state of mind when i turned 20.
A little more mid-twenties, but i'll manage. I will be me, personality is kinda set when you're like 10 or something. So what if im a bumbling mess who says the wrong things and looks like a butch gypsy (on bad days)? (that's in reference to today's disaster outfit of a gypsy blue dress, spotty shirt, ripped cardigan, black leggings, combat boots and my refugee scarf plus a massive brown shoulder bag- hah, polyvore that!)
Hell, getting pissed at my own party was not such a good idea. The pictures are out. In one i looked absolutely miserable. I wasn't miserable at all, i can tell you that.
Im not sure if i should apologize. I was loud, inappropriate and sometimes plain mean. Owh, my poor guests.
The shame.
I'll make a point not to do that again. Not at my own party anyway. Hosts should always be gracious and attentive to her guests. No blabbering away, spilling drinks all over herself and rolling on the floor.
live and learn lizzie. Live and learn.
24's not feeling too bad. It starts tomorrow; i mean, today.
I got a snazzy pink-purple-silver helmet from TYH and Daniel! For the cycling you see- it's a lovely helmet, and fits properly, so i have no excuse now.
Im all on my own, the flat is empty- everyone is out.
I want a little mary-jane, a little something that'll put me in a different state of mind. I want to have friends around so we can jump around to Queens of the Stone Age.
Well, friends i have few and weed i have none, so i'll have to spend my friday night home, alone, bored; attempting to get some school work.
Maybe i go for a cycle de minuit since i didnt gym tonight. Hope the drunk drivers decide to stay at their respective parties a little longer tonight.
I have been lusting for a cape for ages. Initially i wanted a velvet full length one, all goth and sweeping.
The truth is short and stubby yours truly will only manage to look like Samwise Gamgee in a long velvet cape, complete with hobbit feet. Yes, my feet are that ugly.
In a moment of crazed ebay bidding i just bought a grey woollen austrian vintage cape. If that didnt sound bad enough, it's 57 quid and has a green trim.
It's crazed, but it looked pretty, and i've been telling myself i need a style revival- buying pieces that i love, but also a little classic in style. I hope it's long enough, i hope the wool isnt scratchy.
Introspection and quiet music is good, but when i start wallowing i find it difficult to climb out of a funk. The more there is to do, the more time i waste. Like writing useless blog entries because i refuse to call friends to rant. I think it's unfair to put them through all the boring existential crisis depressive shit.
Funny story:
Last thursday i had cycled down, bright and early for my lectures. Arriving all flustered and sweaty i went into one of the 2 lecture theaters in the basement of the hospital. The lecturer was well into the lecture, i kinda slipped in and sat at the nearest available seat. About 2 minutes in i realized something was wrong. The topic of the lecture wasn't right and looking around, there were no familiar faces. Then it dawned- fuck, wrong lecture! I needed to slip out, but i hate bringing attention to myself. I squirmed in my seat and thought it out for 15 minutes before i left. I tried to do it quietly, but that never works. Everyone turns when the door creaks, it's like some collective instinct.
I thought, it's ok, nevermind, bygones~ it could've happened to anyone. Put it past me.
Hah, so i thought.
Today i bumped into one of the Kendo guys at the library. After the usual hellos, he goes, "hey, you went to one of my lectures on thursday, didnt you? And it took you like 15 minutes to realize it was the wrong lecture...."
There had to be someone i know in that lecture. There just had to be that one person who knows me.
Oh well, it could've been worse.
What would life be without funny stories and kawaii senpais who resemble Ruruoni Kenshin. Im awkward around that one- can't seem to figure out why.*Too much of a good thing refers to 'On the bus mall' by the Decemberist that has been playing non-stop on the maky-baby. I'm now moving on to Kanye West's 'Workout video' song. Someone give me something good to listen to.
It's the damaging combination of a depressive episode brought on by V-day and school worry compounded by systemic illness from exhaustion and a bug going around.
Blame the winter, blame the cold.
Many many pills and lots of sleep later i wake at 3 am feeling much better. It's quater past 4 now, and i really need to catch up on reading.
As a good friend likes to say, happy midweek!
P/s- i think the Kings of Leon and Queens of the Stone Age would make a cute couple. Name-wise only. Only in name.
I was so anxious at Kendo today. I was unbelievably twitchy and jumping all over the place.
It sucked. I still suck. Kinda lost a little confidence in myself today.
I hate this- if im off my meds i get lazy, and too much meds i got nuts and hungry. Yeah, these are the prescription meds im taking because i think i have a problem. The doctor doesn't think so, but hey, what do they know?
Yeah, maybe it's all in my head, but bloody hell, they make me feel better, so they must be working, right?
Yeah, maybe im not so happy, faking happy has a way of slapping me back in the face after the farce is over.
I hate being this pathetic person. There's more underlying this, but i'll elaborate when im feeling more eloquent and less like crap.
Later......like 2 in the morning later
Apart from being emotionally shitty, i can't walk properly because i have a massive (3x3 cm) blister on the ball of my left foot and a tiny (in comparison) blister on my right big toe.
To those i have loved, currently adore and will love in the future.
Im not hating today , nor am i taking a anti-valentine's stance this year; in spite of being un-attached (as usual).
This is because today is a celebration of love, in all its form. Divine love, family love, for the love of ice-cream- it's all around.
There's no use being angry, if that anger is just gonna fester and make me a horrid person. I might as well share in the happiness and leave the wallowing for when the world runs out of ice-cream or chocolate.
So if im inebriated tonight it's not me drowning my sorrows, im celebrating!
The choice of today's music is a little mellow however, but it is in it's heart a song about love. Ignore the video. Let your imagine run with it.
But i will not mourn for you so take off your make-up and pocket your pills away
This tag has been going around facebook and being the self-examining, narcissistic person i am, i thought i'd do it. I'd rather not place it in facebook, so it'll just be here.
So you dont get too bored
here it goes:
1. I'm self absorbed and shallow.
2. I find it terribly difficult to buy watches for myself.
3. I can mess about wikipedia forever.
4. I always make sure i look pretty for Kendo classes, and no, it's not because i still fancy that guy.
5. Today i had too much cheese. It was a four cheese crepe, and it was amazing, but it was just too much of a good thing.
6. I gave myself a short, eyebrow skimming fringe- i cut it over the bathroom sink and it's a little short on the right. I told everyone i got it done at the hairdressers.
7. I cannot hold a drink anymore. A good beer and im up and away. Plus, when im slightly tipsy i am unable to stop drinking and i keep on going, sneakily getting drunker and drunker.
8. I suffer from social awkwardness- a definate social retard. I never know what to say or what to do....
9. I want to live in France for awhile. Also travel South America, live in New York, roadtrip North America and backpack through Asia.
10. I hope to be a great doctor. *Insyaallah*
11. When i was 7, i fancied these 2 boys at the same time. They were best friends. I wonder what happened to them.
12. Im not sure if you guys knew about this boy i totally was into in boarding school, but yeah, i was absolutely smitten, stupidly so. It doesn't matter much now, but i always give his current girlfriend the stare-of-death. And i relish the fact Shazzers doesn't like her. Shazzers is a great judge of character.
13. I wish i cared more about what is happening around the world. I wish i could, would try to make a difference. This is because:
14. "Everything i try to do nothing seems to turn out right" is not only the title of a decemberist tune, but also the tune of my life. It usually ends up great, but just not the way i imagined it ever to be.
15. Somewhere, scattered among pages of autograph books of people i know in boarding school are lists of "things you should know about me". I want to find them again and try to get to know my 17 year old self and see if the 24 year old likes her.
16. I dont want to stop smoking. Yet.
17. I like attention, but im very shy. Paradoxically im very loud, but only when around those im comfortable with. Still, the social retard in me is shy.
18. I need to be a better listener.
19. I forget things easily. I wish i didnt. It's scary when i just don't remember.
20. Geesh, im running outta things to say, and im starting to feel sick from all that cheese at dinner.
21. I like the Pulp song "Anorexic Beauty". I wish i was strong enough to give up a little joy to be thin.
22. I don't really like myself. There's nothing all to special, no real potential- a true waste of space. Mediocrity is a slow death, i've accepted that.
23. i tend to forget to brush my teeth at night.
24. I want someone to say "okairinasai" as a reply to my "tadaima" when i walk through the door. My dad always whistles a "i'm home!" when he arrives. I miss that.
25. Im not very good with the whole giving/expressing/showing love and affection thing. I love cuddles, hugs and kisses; dont believe me if i tell you otherwise. Sometimes i pretend i dont care for all this love stuff just to put on a brave face. But the truth is, a good cuddle and im yours. There's just not enough cuddles in the world. Either that or they need to be more equally distributed.
Monday, February 09, 2009
I dont wanna jinx it and because im superstitious im not going to title this post, "Some things you just cannot lose".
This is because there are things im hoping to lose (fat, my awkwardness) and some things i dont ever want to disappear (good friends, my boobs).
But then i remember that nothing is certain, in exception of death and taxes. Actually, i'll add a few more: they'll always be people better and worse off than you, you'll always need more shoes and it will get better, eventually.
The story that was going to go with the proposed title is about the collection of charms on my shinai bag. I was running for the bus when my charms fell off my bag. There's a lucky prosperity pig, a jade tortoise and a keris key chain ( i had a little poufy pooh bear, but that one disappeared at the last lesson). I realized it had fallen, i looked around me for a minute; but the bus was there and i was running late and it was raining, so i left it and jumped on the bus.
2 hours later on my way home from kendo i thought i'd go look for it anyway. Lo and behold, against all odds, it was there, lying on the pavement! Im gonna attach them firmly on this time, so they wont go falling off again.
On that note, im gonna do some neurology and get some sleep. It's an early start tomorrow.
Oh, and i feel i must tell you my packed lunch for tomorrow: pasta with spinach, ricotta and sun dried tomatoes.
And i also must tell you i have an affliction: an keen interest in cute, vertically-challenged younger men. May i get over this terrible condition.
Artic/Russian winds have brought freezing cold and a thick blanket of snow over london. Tubes are down, cars are slipping in the snow, there are NO busses, but my gosh, its GORGEOUS!
We managed to make a mini snowman (with a carrot for a willy :P) last night, as well as snow angels and snow ball fights.
Later we nestled in our friends flat for hot chocolate and lemon cookies (which were just made by yours truly).
Im hiking through snow to get to class today. Im giving myself an hour!
