Skinny Jeans Update

Did you know that you cannot sit cross legged in skinny jeans?
Yeah. Neither did I.

Huh.

God Help Us All

I have bought skinny jeans.

What Would You Do?

So what would you do if some guy who went out of his way to make your life a misery in primary school started obliquely hitting on you via facebook?
I mean, seriously? This guy thought I was a witch. He asked me not to put a spell on him, and not in the sexy sense either.
This, bizarrely, comes on the tail of a couple of similar episodes. The first involved some of the 'popular' boys from my high school getting hammered at a club that I normally frequent (ooh, guess which one! Guess!) and profusely apologising for being total bastards to me for five years. And then throwing up. Next to Pauls car.
Classy.

The sad thing is that all through school I planned and plotted how one day I would be sooo great, and they would, like, sooo suck. And how they would totally, like, wish they had been nicer to me cos they turned out to be such losers.

Now that they have, I kind of feel sorry for them.

A Bit of the Old In Out

Remember the film A Clockwork Orange? Yeah, me neither. Be that as it may, remember the part where the guy who was all about ultraviolence had to undergo that weird behavioural therapy? And they strapped a crazy thing on his head and flashed movies at him? And then he lost it?
Thats kind of what yesterday was like for me.

Yesterday I had to go for an EEG at the Tara medical center. Which was just about as much fun as you can imagine, if you can imagine not sleeping for 24 hours and then having lights flashed at you while you hyperventilate. Did I mention the electrodes stuck to my head? There were electrodes coming out of my ears. Imagine that when you imagine the other stuff.

I know that sitting in a chair with electrodes coming off your head and enduring light flashes doesn't sound like it's all that bad. But it is. The lights flash so fast and for so long that coherent thought becomes impossible, and there were points at which I was afraid I may black out. Seconds later, I was afraid I wouldn't. You have to close your eyes during the light flashes, lest you go blind or begin foaming at the mouth, but that doesn't stop thousands upon thousands of tiny light filled fractals to dance behind your eyelids. It felt almost as if I were at trance festival, only worse because the festival was in my head and the music came from the buzzing of a faulty electrical outlet in the corner.

When the lights of death stopped flashing, the deep breathing had to begin. All through the lights I kept saying to myself 'it's gonna be okay, only 45 more seconds. Then you can just sit and breathe'.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Try an experiment for me: sit and breathe deeply, I mean really, really deep breaths in and out, for like, oh, four minutes straight.
I'll wait.

Done? Have you recovered the feeling in your fingertips? Did you wipe away the tears streaming down your face? Do you remember what this site is called?
Exactly.

Wow.

I work with people who manage to make paper smell bad.

Success!

At last, I have been told that I look 'fucking hot' in my Facebook photo. Now, if only my old primary school crush would find me on Facebook and kick himself for not marrying me when he had the chance.

Best. Memory. Ever.

1) Wait over TWO HOURS for an ex-boyfriend to come and pick you up to go on holiday because he was playing computer games.
2) Get so enraged that you spin around to stomp off after giving him an earful of expletives.
3) Walk straight into the fin heater.
4) Fall down.
5) Take the fin heater with you.
6) Get laughed at.

Rainbows & Unicorns

This weekend was kind of a downer, for me and Paul both, beginning with the whole epilepsy saga and ending with me having a frantic panic attack about work at roughly 1:30 am this morning. After a fitful nights sleep, though, I am happy to report that things are looking up. Maybe my lack of sleep has jolted me into a quasi hypomanic state (god, I love new jargon to play with), or maybe this weekend was a watershed. I'm hoping the latter. Perspective is being gained, and control is being taken, and that is A Good Thing (capitals intended). Somewhere deep in my mind I am looking fit and happy and bouncy, wearing, I dunno, gym clothes and a cheerleader ponytail. There I am, eating carrot sticks and grinning like a lunatic; theres me again, falling onto the couch with a broad smile and dapples of sunlight filtering through my hair. My life WILL be a RealSimple photoshoot if it's the last thing I achieve. Or, more realistically, my life WILL NOT resemble a Guns & Ammo spread if it's the last thing I do.

On Being Possessed

Back in the day, when people began hearing or feeling funny things or acting strangely, they would be brandished possessed by an evil demon and subjected to an exorcism. Which I guess makes sense, if you are inclined to believe in demons. I'm not, but, hey. It's your body.

Yesterday I was officially diagnosed as having temporal lobe epilepsy. Which is a relief because for a time there I did wonder if perhaps my body was being inhabited by a small, grumpy demon spat up from hell. The diagnosis did, however, come as somewhat of a surprise, especially because I am prone to believing that any and all problems I may have will be met with a 'chin up, kiddo' and a lollipop. By these standards I made out like a bandit; a diagnosis and a prescription to some drugs that will hopefully stop my head from spinning 360 degrees and projectile vomiting lumo green puke. I'm sure you're all pretty relieved, too.

The aftermath of the appointment was less than pleasing. I don't think either Paul or myself were expecting quite that many tears. In public. But then again, if crying in public was a sport I would be an Olympic medalist. And it's not as if I don't have a very bloody good reason to be pissed. God only knows how much money I will be throwing down a hole to prevent my broken brain from misfiring.

I've had a day now to sit and reflect on these new developments, and to be honest my feelings are mixed. On the one hand I am so happy that this is being dealt with and I will be able to move on with my life and hopefully gain some semblance of control over how I am feeling. On the other hand... I'm a little pissed, to be honest. Not about having the epilepsy, but rather with all the idiotic people in my life who would go out of their way to punish me for being sad, or frightened, or angry, or whatever. So many people would tell me that all I needed to do to be happy was to think happy thoughts and everything would be okay. If I just tried hard enough, things would be fine. And if they weren't then obviously the blame lay with me.

I'm sad that I wasted so much of my life hating myself for having feelings that I had no control over. And for feeling like I was a fundamentally crap person because I couldn't cope with certain aspects of my life. I wish someone could have told me that it wasn't my fault that sometimes I floated out of my body or got scared or anxious or sad for no reason. I wish that I could have stood up for myself when people said to me, 'can't you just, like, you know? Be happy?'.

I think it was Bill Hicks who said 'I'll start smiling as soon as you start walking away'.

Snacklette for thought

Was just reading a recent newsletter from the guys at Earth2, when I stumbled upon this interesting tidbit of info. It's certainly worth reading for anyone who feels overwhelmed by the whole issue of global warming and the death and doom that it will bring. I personally have committed to eating less meat (I think 'less' is more realistic than 'no' at this point for me) and would be so happy if other people thought about it too...

Livestock generates more greenhouse gases than transportation according to a new report from the United Nations (U.N.).

“Livestock are one of the most significant contributors to today’s most serious environmental problems,” said Henning Steinfeld, a senior UN Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) official and lead author of the report. “Urgent action is required to remedy the situation.”

The report, titled "Livestock’s Long Shadow–Environmental Issues and Options", notes that cattle-rearing is also a major source of land and water degradation.

"Livestock’s Long Shadow" estimates that livestock sector accounts for 9 percent of carbon dioxide, 65 percent of nitrous oxide, and 37 percent of methane produced from human-related activities. Both methane (23 times) and nitrous oxide (296 times) are considerably more potent greenhouse gases than carbon dioxide. Livestock also generates 64 percent of human-related ammonia, which contributes to acid rain.

The report estimates that livestock currently use 30 percent of the Earth’s land surface and that even more land is used to produce feed for livestock. It notes that forest clearing for livestock pasture is a "major driver of deforestation, especially in Latin America where, for example, some 70 per cent of former forests in the Amazon have been turned over to grazing."

About 20 per cent of pastures considered degraded through overgrazing, compaction and erosion.

The livestock business is among the most damaging sectors to the earth’s increasingly scarce water resources, contributing among other things to water pollution from animal wastes, antibiotics and hormones, chemicals from tanneries, fertilizers and the pesticides used to spray feed crops."

From: news.mongabay.com/2006/1130-un.html

Missing In Action

So I have been extremely crap with posting recently. And I would love to report that it has been due to my ever expanding social calendar, but, alas, it has not. It has, in actual fact, been due my ever increasing crapness on almost all fronts. I don’t want to bore anyone with another list (lists are so yesterday), so I will explain as best I can using actual paragraphs.

Ok. First of all, my extreme crapness has recently taken the form of a deep, black hole of depression. I have always considered myself to be a mildly depressed person, stretching all the way back to my fist day of primary school, but now it has just gotten ridiculous. That was one thing: this is something else. It actually aches, my body actually aches with sadness; sadness for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Snacky, bite-sized sadness all through the day. Sadness that needs to be fed with chocolate and tea and magazines which end up making me more bloody sad. They say that a symptom of depression is no longer finding enjoyment in the things you once loved. The things I once loved now make me spontaneously combust with anger and despair. I’m super fun to be around. Which is why I have not posted anything in ages. Grandma always used to say: If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything it all.
(Or as my grandma actually used to say: “Pass the gin. NOW.”)

This black hole of doom stuff has, obviously, impacted on the way I see the world. And also on the way I interact with it. Example: I shoved someone on Friday night. Shoved them. Multiple times. As in three or four violent shovings. Of insanity.
I am not a shover, people. This is highly unusual. And although I had my (extremely good) reasons for shoving said repulsive life form, I am not proud. Violence to me is not a last resort; it’s a don’t-go-there-ever-you-idiot resort.

When I’m not shoving people I’m moping, as one does. Most of the moping is done in public bathrooms. Not that kind of moping, pervert. Actual moping.
These are places fraught with emotional booby traps. Firstly, there are the rows of sinks and mirrors, where everyone can watch you squinting at what now looks like a cancerous growth under the fluorescent lights. There are the toilets, which are usually a sight to behold. And then there are the gaggles of BFF’s standing around laughing and posing for each other. Bitches. I don’t have a BFF anymore (see here), so I am left to shuffle awkwardly and stare at my feet. Never do I feel as utterly alone as when I am standing in an overlit bathroom, trying to conceal my curiosity at what it must be like to be nineteen and with a girlfriend you can share everything with.

Bathrooms aside, public places in general seem fraught with all kinds of terror these days. It may be that neon is back in style, bigger and badder than ever. Or it may be that my group of extended acquaintances now includes someone who is comfortable with calling me chicken girl. Who knows? The point is, I’m doing what I can to NOT turn this into a complete whine fest. So if that means not posting every couple of days, so be it. Your sanity, and mine, will be all the better for it in the end.