Becoming Alive

Hell Is Other People

2005-10-30T01:42:00.000Z

It's been a while, says she, slightly sheepish.

I didn't want to abandon this blog, it just kind of happened. There's been a slew of events of late, and it's just been bang bang bang, one thing after another. I've moved from one much maligned group, benefit scum, to another - student scum. I actually got a last minute place on the Journalism course, and I'm now an official student, soon to be an official member of the NUJ.

I was "inspired" to write stuff down this evening, mainly because no one is about to talk to, and I'm mildly irritated/weepy/grumpy. I went to a Halloween event tonight, which was pretty fantastic. People had made a huge effort to dress up, the band was great, and it was all in aid of a good cause. The unfortunate by-product of remaining friends with one of my mothers work colleagues, and of living in a village-ish city like Edinburgh, is that you can't go anywhere without bumping into people you'd really rather didn't exist.

The friend is a great friend - she half raised me in the latter parts of my teenage years when no-one else gave a shit, and is a true good friend - I've known her for over 10 years now, which is a tad scary to me. My mother's best friend is also a friend of hers. Lets call mamma's best friend E, shall we. E and I rarely cross paths, so the only way E can relate to me really is through my mother, which is a tad uncomfortable. "Oh, you sound just like your mum"... etc. She came to the same event, and brought along the stepmother from hell, my mother's partner at the time of her death.

It would not be libelous to describe the stepmother as a child abuser, a manipulative and self pitying con artist, and someone who has ripped me off probably to the tune of tens of thousands of pounds. She was stoned out of her rather tiny mind, and dressed ridiculously, even by Halloween standards. She was ever so ever so nice, but as per usual, couldn't resist slipping in some snide digs at me. She's pretty loathsome, and I had to restrain Mr PA from being purely aggressive, and hitting her with one of the many deathly props to hand.

For once, she didn't spoil the evening; it was actually E. Because E doesn't have any way to relate to me other than my mother, it's what we end up talking about when we cross paths. Either that or related issues. I was filling gaps in the conversation by updating stories about the remaining family down south, and mentioned that the evil toad was dead. E can be a tad tactless, and says, your mother hated him with a vengeance, she just knew, you know. In her heart of hearts she knew what happened to you.

Thing is, it's coming up for that time of year where there's endless anniversary's. Death ones, birthdays, Christmas. I cope a lot better than I did, but it still unbalances me, even now. Whether my mother knew I was being sexually abused, I don't know. Given the kind of person she was, I had put it uncomfortably to bed with the idea that she didn't. She was so upfront, so brutal and unforgiving of grey area, such a battler against adversity and populist views, that I can't live comfortably with the idea that she knew.

If she knew, why the fuck didn't she say anything? Why didn't she ask me? Why didn't she see the signs? Why, when I tried to kill myself at 13, did she write it off as me being a drama queen, instead of suffering from spine crushing depression? Why could she not see that all the big fat depression indicators had a basis? I was writing suicidal poems on my wall. I was drinking alone in my room, listening to wrist-slitting music. I was cutting my arms to pieces. I was running away, crying at the drop of a hat, even slicing myself up in the back of classrooms. I was so plainly disturbed, and I was screaming about it, and no-one heard.

Fucksake, I'm sniveling again. The friend referred to earlier in this, she saw the start of the mental health stuff, as things went downhill. She tells me years later, when I disclosed to her what happened with the toad, that she'd spoken to a social worker friend of hers, about me. The woman met me for 5 minutes, and told the friend "She was sexually abused at some point. She might not remember it yet, but it's there. It's about as obvious as it gets."

What gets me, is that one of the things my mother is most known for is a ground breaking campaign that she was instrumental in designing and getting off the ground. It was about promoting awareness of domestic violence, rape, and child sexual abuse. The house was filled with the studies, the surveys, the statistics, the stories, as they began to design it. Of all people.

I'll never know, so I shouldn't let this torment me, but it does. It really does. I would pay my entire student loan for a few sessions with my ex-therapist right about now.

The death of Jean Charles de Menezes

2005-08-17T19:31:00.000+01:00

There was a leak, of the preliminary findings of the police internal investigation into the death of Jean Charles, the man who was mistaken for a terrorist on a London tube and shot 7 times in the head. It's far far worse than was initially thought. Worse for the police, that is.

It has now emerged that Mr de Menezes:

Was never properly identified because a police officer was "relieving himself" at the very moment he was leaving his home;

Was unaware that he was being followed;

Was not wearing a heavy padded jacket or belt as reports at the time suggested;

Never ran from the police;

Did not jump the ticket barrier.

(taken from the front page of the guardian, emphasis added)

I'm disgusted, as per usual. Not only was this man killed in cold blood, but he had already been forcibly restrained by a surveillance officer, before being shot 8 times. He wasn't suspicious, he wasn't running, he had absolutely nothing to do with terrorism. The whole house of cards collapsed because a police officer was too busy taking a piss to bother to check whether the man they were following had any ties whatsoever to any prospective terrorism. Jean Charles de Menezes only crime? Well, he wasn't the right shade of white, was he. Looked a bit Asian, so they figured that he must be the guy.

This is racism. People can make all the noises they want, and say, well, it's only Arabic or Asian men who are into all this stuff, isn't it, but at the end of the day, people are discriminating and judging and even shooting down in cold blood on the basis of skin colour. A friend of mine said to me "you couldn't pay me enough money to sit next to an Asian man on the London tube". As repulsive as that friends perspective can be, I know they're not alone on that front.

When it was Northern Irish terrorists (on either side) people didn't say, well, I'm not going near a pub with white people in it, did they? No. In this country, if you're of Asian or Arab descent, you have a lot to be scared about. You face being arrested or imprisoned without charge, shot dead doing your daily business, the stares and glares of the ignorant and the racist, your house being firebombed by vigilantes.

They had Mr de Menezes pinned down, unable to set of any bomb he might have had. They, trained, armed policemen, still shot him - once in the shoulder and 7 times in the head. Seven times.

Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.

Some days I'm ashamed of being British.

Enemy, my friend?

2005-08-13T19:55:00.000+01:00

I've literally just finished watching a documentary film that is part of a series of programs marking the end of the second world war, a "VJ" series. The documentary I watched was, unfortunately, horribly made, with terrible close ups on interviews, a hideous voice over, and some rather inflammatory language which was a bit unnecessary. What shone through though, was the power of humanity, the ability to change and to forgive, and to turn your life around from the depths of inhumanity.

Initially, it followed a WWII veteran who had spent the last 50 years haunted by his experience as a Japanese POW. He was eventually treated for PTSD, but was continually haunted by images of one man, a man who had interpreted and participated in his torture. He was reading the paper, and saw this man, who had written an honest account of his experience during the war, his sense of responsibility, and desperate need to atone for the atrocities he participated in. It was the man he had been haunted by for many years, in his dreams, and the shadows of his days.

They began communicating by letter, and although the detainee is heard at the beginning of the film swearing that he will never forgive, when they meet at the river Kwai, he begins to make the journey towards being able to let go of some of the horrors he has held onto.

What amazed me was the Japanese man. He had dedicated his life towards remembrance, and towards becoming a better person, finding a way to live with himself in the aftermath of the war. He was a devout Buddhist, and spent a lot of the rest of his life trying to honour the memory of the dead, and to try and make sure that the atrocities are not forgotten.

For me, despite the really awful production values, this was an incredible piece of film. There was something in it that just spoke loud and clear to me, something about the ability to forgive, but also to move forward from something that atrocious. Most people would consider torturers and war criminals of this calibre unforgivable, unredeemable - somehow a lesser human being, if human at all. This man had dedicated his life to becoming a better person, and atoning for his crimes - he succeeded in becoming so much more than would ever have been thought possible.

Edinburgh Festival

2005-08-12T12:34:00.000+01:00

I'm an Edinburgh local, so the festival can be a pain in the arse, when you're trying to live your daily life and get places. The buses take twice as long, because you have dumbass tourists who ignore the very clear graphics on the bus timetables, and spend 20 minutes talking to the driver at each stop. The pavements are full of touroids and trying to get on with things is rather difficult.

However, it does mean there's a lot of shows in town, and some interesting comedy, drama and bizarreness. I went into town the other day, and one of the pavement side shows was attracting quite a crowd - I took a couple of snaps.

Update

2005-08-12T12:22:00.000+01:00

I've had a rather putrid stomach bug for the last wee while, so I've not been keeping up with this. The doctor gave me some miracle pills yesterday that stop my stomach from producing acid, and it's blissful! I got up this morning and for the first time in about two weeks, I didn't have my head down the toilet within 5 minutes. Much pleasure.

I'm getting revoltingly clucky at the moment. Any time I pass a child in the street, I start grinning at it like a moron. There was a junkie with her child in the waiting room at the doctors, and she kept yelling at the kid to shut up and stop doing what she was doing. I could just see so clearly that she just needed a bit of eye contact and conversation with someone, instead of being screamed at. There's a huge tropical fish tank built into the wall of the waiting room, and she was trying to get one of the fish to follow her finger - which of course they're too dumb to do. I ended up going over and chatting to her, and explaining why they couldn't, and how they forget everything 3 seconds later. She was a great wee girl, only about 6, and she just lit up at the interaction. I've seen her and her mother around before, and that's the norm rather than the exception.

I know I want to foster kids in the future, and that I'm not in a fit state to do that right now, but I've got this curious ache to help kids, and to parent them and look after them. No one is perfect, and no one manages to parent perfectly, but I know I've got skills to offer. I can't have children of my own, and I think it would be wrong of me to go through the IVF process when there are so many kids who need homes and are stuck in care. I go through phases like this from time to time, and they do pass, it's just kind of painful when I'm like this.

My relatives are in a bit of a stink pit at the moment, since the toad died. The bereaved is behaving revoltingly, true to form, and her only method of communication, as per usual, is criticism for anyone around. Apparently the toad, in her eyes, has now reached the level of sainthood, which is just a tad too sickening. I need to phone her soon, and I hope I get off relatively unscathed.

Someone Died

2005-08-04T18:49:00.000+01:00

I'm always cautious not to give out too many details in this blog, because I like that this is fairly anonymous, and there are certain people I would rather that they not read it. Mr PA is a prime example. I've used this place to blow off steam about him, and I haven't given a completely fair picture of him, something I've always been scrupulous about at therapy, or at the BB. I wouldn't want my family to read it either, because they're so damned dysfunctional they'd just about explode if they did. They don't want to know about my reality, or my feelings - as long as they can use me as a punchbag/shoulder to lean on/object to hang disappointments onto, they're happy.

The man who died was old, cantankerous, dangerous and foul tempered. He wasn't a blood relation, but had been around for as long as I can remember. He was hated by many. He was also abusive, sexually and verbally, to me, and to many members of my family. As far as the former type of abuse, it's a skeleton in the closet - it's not acknowledged by those who have an inkling, and it's not known by those who don't. He has been dying of various types of cancer over the last two years, and finally croaked on Sunday.

The big relief is that he didn't want a funeral of any sort. I'm guessing because he had enough faculties left to know how hated and loathed he was, and that any attendance would be purely to support the one person who gave a shit about him, with a lot of joyful feelings floating around. Part of me is utterly and totally relieved. Another part of me wanted to go through that, for absolute closure. This doesn't feel like closure. I don't really feel anything, except a bit hostile and fragile. I'm worried about the fact I don't feel anything, because I wonder what's to come. I've had people around die before, but never one who I hated. Never one who I had no pleasant feelings for whatsoever. I feel kind of disjointed, and not really grounded in any type of reality. I sound "normal", but I don't feel it.

I remember the bribe, when I was 6 years old. I remember him buying me a pair of black patent leather shoes, which my mother had refused to let me have. I remember the guilt, the fear, the self loathing. He coloured my entire childhood, my adolescence, and my sexuality - I should feel something.

But I don't.

Mama's got a new toy

2005-08-02T18:17:00.000+01:00

Camera joy arrived this morning, in a nice brown box. Obviously, I've not learnt my way around it properly just yet, but I'm in lurve with my new baby. It's a Fuji Finepix S5500, and it is simply going to be with me, everywhere I go. It's one of those "pro-sumer" jobs, and it's ideal for me to learn on. I've been aching after a decent camera for a while now, and it's simply blissful - I kept wondering around and seeing perfect shots where ever I went. Now I can bore you to tears with them!

The following photo speaks volumes about this camera, and not all that much about my photographic skills! I was waiting for a taxi to take me into town, and I wanted to take a macro shot of some of the flowers in my garden, because overgrown as it is, there's some really pretty stuff in there. I was aiming for a white rose, and the wind was gusting rather a lot - hence the not so good framing. I moved to the purple thing, and managed to catch it. I was astonished to discover the bumble bee was in the frame!

Disgusted

2005-07-22T18:02:00.000+01:00

Mr PA pretty much redeemed himself the next day, and we had a good evening on Wednesday. There are positive things about continuing my relationship with him, he just manages to drive me insane every once in a while. Like whenever we discuss politics. Like today.

The police shot someone in London today. It's not entirely clear, yet, why they were pursuing him, but they unloaded 5 bullets into him at close range. 5 bullets says overkill, to me. Especially at close range. I heard live eyewitness testimony on the BBC news bulletin, and the guy sounded horrified. That craziness I thought might have blown over has now gone into overdrive. There was a dummy bomb attack in London yesterday, very similar to 2 weeks ago, but this time, without explosive devices. The detonators went off, but not the "bombs" because there were no actual explosives in the devices.

I'm afraid, now. The erosion of our human rights and our privacy is set to begin, in full force.

As to why I'm disgusted, well, Mr PA and I were talking about it as the news came in. He hides behind a banner of patriotism, but really, it's bigotry. "I've got nothing to hide" says the middle class, priviledged white protestant man. Well, that's nice, most of us don't anything to hide, but he has nothing to fear, either. If you're a minority, if you have less than simplistic views, if you're of Asian or middle eastern descent, well, you do have something to fear. Communications, opinions, colour of your skin - they're all open to interpretation. In this climate, you can bet interpretation isn't going to be on your side, unless you're the priviledged, middle class, protestant white man.

There were other gems - bomb them, round them up, lock them up. "I don't care about history, or the politics behind it". When I pointed to Ireland as an example of what happens when you fight terrorism with more terrorism, the response was "well, that was the bloody Catholics, wasn't it?" Terrorists are evil, not human, not people. "I wouldn't sit on a tube next to an Asian guy". There is so much in the content of what was said that makes me desperately sad, and I could argue through, point by point. I was accused of being a traitor, that I wanted to become a Muslim, that I hated the country that allowed me to live in comfort without working, that I was patriotic.

Patriotism doesn't mean accepting without question. Patriotism is not about following the majority like a sheep. Patriotism is not an excuse for bigotry. I'm filled with disgust and deep sadness. A person who I see as a friend is a bigot, he is an example of the respectable face of the BNP. He is unseeing, thoughtless, ignorant, racist, and hides it under a veneer of patriotism and respectability.

I picked up a trashy magazine today, because it has mindless puzzles in it, that kill time. I was flicking through it, and came across an advert, in the style of their usual articles. It was encouraging women to push their children to join the army. Disgusting.

I was watching a program on the ITV network (trash television) and an ad for another program came on. Apparently, there's a program, much like The Associate, but featuring Richard Branson. The episode they were promoting was one where two teams were competing to "rescue" an African village. I can't even find the words to express just how repulsive I find this. I'm at a loss. It's like my brain and revulsion is in overload - I can't believe how disgusting people can be.

I'm completely at a loss.

And how we laughed

2005-07-19T17:33:00.000+01:00

I really wanted to post about this on the BB I frequent, but I can't get to it. I was paranoid enough to think it was because my IP had been blocked, and didn't have the good sense to stop myself being so ridiculous either. The latter worries me, because it means that right now, I'm not using any of my "skills" and reality checking some pretty twisted thinking. Happy happy joy joy.

Admittedly, I'm crashing from a manic high, I'm having a fairly miserable time of it, and I've got a hefty dose of PMS (or DD or T or whatever they care to call it) and Mr PA is being more of an arse than usual. Adding up all of that does not paint a pretty picture of my thought processes, or my ability to be rational.

Mr PA: Well, I called him yesterday, to find out how he wanted me to burn various movies I aquired for him. That, and to say hello, was my honest intent for calling him. I didn't realise just quite how shocking I was feeling, and when he asked how I was, I ended up sniveling. I got off the phone pretty sharpish though, and he said he'd pop down to say hello at some point today.

Later on, I get a phone call from him - he's at home, had a nap - it's about 10pm, and I've already had my meds for the night. We're talking some, I kind of explain part of what's going on, about crashing down some, feeling depressed. He says the "anything I can do, emotional support or otherwise let me know" line, and then proceeds to tell me about someone I've met once or twice, and how his girlfriend has been diagnosed with breast cancer. He throws in the "so it could be worse, eh?" line, which pisses me off.

Now, I know this guy inside out. He claimed he was telling me about the aquaintances misfortune in case I took his potential sullenness or quietness online, personally. Ummm... a) I wouldn't. b) the guy is not likely to be online to me at a time like this c) Mr PA could barely convince himself of this motive, nevermind me! So, knowing him as I do, I was left with two options. One was that it was his insatiable desire to gossip, which is ever present, or two was that he was trying to make me feel guilty for feeling shit. Either option is not pretty.

One accusation that gets thrown my way is "you scrutinise everything I say". I realised, I don't. And across the board, I only scrutinise people's words when something unsettles or upsets me, not just his words. I sound defensive. That's because I kind of am.

He didn't know that I was going to the doctors today, for various reasons. One of which was unusual bruising on my body, and the other was that I have a breast lump. I've had some issues with pre-cancerous cells on my cervix, and I've been less than diligent this time around about the follow up tests. The procedure they do is pretty traumatic for me, and they've done it twice, and the first wasn't successful. I'm understandably leary about going through that again.

I went to the doctors, and he did a full blood workup, and arranged for a breast exam and a cervical smear next week. I'm really kind of scared. There's a possibility that all the lumps and bruises and stuff could be caused by diabetes, which I'm being tested for, and of course, there's always the C word. Needless to say, neither are looking attractive.

I'm really scared, feeling pretty alone and tearful. I have a sneaking suspicion it might be diabetes, because there have been a few other signs floating around in recent weeks. Better than cancer, certainly. But good news? Ummm, no.

I called Mr PA, to find out if he'd be down, and to let him know. Running off the phone is a pretty accurate description, I think. And suprise suprise, he's coming nowhere near me today.

Yup, I'm feeling very sorry for myself. Permit me to indulge a while.

Dumbass

2005-07-18T19:19:00.000+01:00

That'll be me.

I've been weirdly hyper for quite a while now - not getting enough sleep, talking incessantly, buzzing, some inflated sense of myself and my abilities. At certain points, it's tasted a lot like hypomania - not full blown manic in the classical sense, but very up nonetheless. There's been a few warning signs that it might just break out to full blown, and a few points where I could point at and say hmmm, but on the whole, I've not been too worried about it.

The last week or so, I've been slowing down, getting irritable, not being able to concentrate, not being able to tolerate people well. Feeling tired all the time, feeling depressed, grumpy and lethargic.

Hello? Can anyone spell Bipolar?

After so many years of living with mental health issues, and of being acutely aware of my mood swings and energy levels it's utterly bizarre to me that I could miss something as bloody obvious as this. I keep missing things like this, and missing warning signs. I keep missing the absolutely bloody obvious.

When anyone goes for DLA I always hammer home the point; do not understate your problem, overstate it. Don't over-estimate your ability to cope, don't work things out in terms of your best day, think in terms of your worst. What did I do when filling in the form? Understated the problem. I'm so good at giving advice, I forget to bloody take it.

I know self-recrimination is a waste of time, and what is done is done, but damnit, I'm going to indulge.

Mice

2005-07-14T11:59:00.000+01:00

I saw something scuttle quickly through the hall, out of the corner of my eye this morning. I thought it was possible it could be Honey, and didn't give it another thought. Then, I'm lying on the couch, and I see a tiny tail and some claws. Not Honey. It's a fucking mouse!

I'm not scared of them in the slightest, it doesn't make me run for the nearest high surface and stand on it, but I've never had them before, and I don't like the idea of vermin scuttling around my house. I don't know if it's just one of them, or a whole host of them. In my living room, the powers that be created a weird kind of cupboard (don't know why, it's not like this house is spare on cupboards) to house the boiler, and the pipes for the boiler. There's a space around the pipes where the floorboards are missing - not big, but certainly big enough for a mouse to get through.

It was rather small, which makes me rather worried that it was a baby, and that there are more of them to come. I started chasing it with the cover for my spindle of CDRs, but then it occurred to me that not only does it have more dexterity than I have, but I have no idea what I would do with the damned thing if I caught it. I'm a little more squeamish about the thought of crushing it, but I wouldn't want to let it loose in case it got back in, or back into someone elses house. I think I need to buy some traps. Argh.

I have a sneaking suspicion that it originates from next door - they're rather skanky (as well as being Rod Stewart fans) and that recess cupboard is poorly insulated, and doesn't have a proper wall to next door. Hmmm.

Honey is, of course, absolutely useless. No interest at all, and from now on she has been officially demoted from the rank of stupid cat to stupid dog.

not the only one

2005-07-07T21:30:00.000+01:00

Turns out, I'm not the only one thinking about the political implications of today's attacks. I've spoken to various British friends this evening, and they've all shared the same sense of impending political doom. The government is probably going to be able to get the ID cards through without much of a murmour, and it seems somewhat inevitable that great political hay is going to be made by the current government.

Goodbye civil liberties.

Fuck Fuck Fuck

2005-07-07T11:40:00.000+01:00

It may be because I haven't had any sleep, but I'm freaked, in a slightly detached way. There have been at least 6 explosions in London, the majority of which have been in the Underground. They started at about 9am this morning. I hoped, and didn't want to believe it was a terrorist attack, but it seems like it was. I've phoned the people in London that I care about, including C, who was ok, if A is worried. (Oh so cryptic). The number of casualties and fatalities is not clear yet, but they're updating the news as I type this.

This is going to sound quite cold, but I don't mean it to. I do care about the destruction, and the people who have been injured or affected in any way, but for me, the scary thing is what effect this is going to have on the UK as a whole.

This is going to give the government a clear mandate to push through identity cards, the right to detain people without charge, indefinitely, and whatever draconian measures they see fit. It's going to fire people's reactionary side, it's going to create more racist behaviour, less reasoned argument, and a more militant and simplistic attitude towards a very complex situation in the middle east. It's going to give Tony Blair even more room for smugness about the war. It's going to set the agenda of Africa right off the list of priorities - I'm scared, because it's quite likely that the damage done to our society, our civil liberties and many other wide reaching ramifications is going to take decades to undo.

It doesn't fill me with terror, it doesn't scare me in the slightest. Instead, it fills me full of hopelessness, and a resigned feeling of disgust. I was beginning to find a feeling of mild pride in the people in this country, in our cynicism, our distrust of politicians, our willingness to educate and be educated on important, vital issues and our willingness to stand up and be counted in a peaceful manner.

Maybe I'm being pessimistic, but I can see these things that I find pride in sapping away as the minutes tick by today.

Images?

2005-07-05T12:34:00.000+01:00

Ok, so my net account is on the verge of being suspended temporarily. Bill payment stuff. I was about 17 pounds short of paying my bill this month, so the tv has gone out, as has the phone. I can still get online, for now, but my email and my webspace has been suspended, hence the lack of images. There are some that are hosted by blogger, but most are on my webspace. They'll be back soon......

Ugh. Bloody Anarchists.

2005-07-05T12:13:00.000+01:00

I was overwhelmed by the amazing events on Saturday, particularly in Edinburgh. I even went so far as to buy a copy of the Sunday Herald to keep the front page as a memento. Peaceful protest, with a worthwhile agenda, and the power of people - it was incredible, and spoke volumes to others across the world. The pictures sent shivers up and down my spine.

But of course, a bunch of wankers had to come along and piss all over it. There was rioting in Princes Street yesterday, mainly from anti-capitalist anarchists. Now, I have a bit of an insider view here. I have a friend who works for local government, and I remember her telling me that the police had had special training on how to maintain a presence, but a low key one. They were trained not to react with violence unless absolutely necessary, and up to the very top, there was an acknowledgement that peaceful protest was a vital part of any democracy. I'm not a fan of police at the best of times, but they did some amazing work on Saturday, and were pretty incredible.

I have another friend who found himself walking by the nonsense yesterday. He's not a great fan of the police either. However, he said that the police were remaining pretty passive in the face of a lot of abuse. People were throwing shopping trolleys, wood, glass bottles, all kinds of weaponry at the police, and they weren't reacting. So for the anarchists to claim police brutality is, quite frankly, bullshit.

There was no need for this crap. None whatsoever. A big global statement was made on Saturday. A peaceful, powerful one. There was no need for more G8 publicity, or any of this crap. I can almost sympathise in other places where the G8 summit didn't have such a high profile, but not here. They came to make trouble, and trouble they made. 100 people arrested. Good.

In Princes Street gardens, there are some beautiful park benches, made of solid wood, most of which have brass plaques on them. The plaques are very personal - people will gather together money to dedicate a bench to a loved one who has died, so that in some ways, their memory stays alive, and that they have a memorial in a place where the person loved to sit. A lot of those were destroyed yesterday. What possible political message does that send, other than a disrespect for people's personal grief?

It also overshadows the legitimacy of Saturdays events. It lessens the power of the message.

I can understand Palestinians rioting. I can understand an oppressed population rising up with frustration, anger and hopelessness, to try and send a message about their political situation. They've been oppressed and beaten and shot and had their homes, their families and their livlihoods destroyed over a period of decades. If they end up rioting, well, it's out of frustration and desperation. The anarchists are simply not in this position. They have an agenda which they are intent on spreading through violence. Violence should be the absolute last resort, and it seems to be their first choice.

Temper Temper

2005-07-02T23:56:00.000+01:00

I lost my temper on the BB I frequent. Someone who annoys the hell out of me on the best of days pulled her usual passive aggressive stunt, and I snapped at her, pretty harshly. I'm being apologised for, despite the fact that I've stated that I stand by my words, even if they were said in anger.

I meant what I said. She *is* PA. She does take everything personally, even when it's not about her. She makes "jokes" which are thinly veiled barbs. She sugar coats everything, and ends up enabling and oozing over people who generally need a big fat boot in the arse. She even goes around softening any comments that she sees as too harsh. She belongs at some validating, hugging, enabling board where no-one wants to get better. And she is a supposed "non"; someone who was in a relationship with a BPDer, rather than being a BPDer herself.

For months, I've found her intensely annoying. I've kept a lid on it, and watched as people approach her, softly and gently, and she responds, time and time again, with massive PA and saccharine. She's one of these people who hide their true feelings behind this veneer of niceness and sweetness, and can't say what she means, or feels.

I need to work out which of it is my stuff, and which is hers.

At the moment, I have absolutely no intentions of softening any of the words I said to any great degree. I meant what I said. Admittedly though, I'm stressed at the moment. I have been in large amounts of pain, my house has been in chaos, I'm fighting with social security, I'm skint, and a multitude of things have been going wrong. However, I don't think much of that had an effect on what I said. I don't think that made me lash out at someone for the sake of it.

The other suggestion was that it was a sense of familiarity that made me "attack". I don't, and never have, felt close to this woman. I've never liked her. At one point I was indifferent, and now, it's dislike and contempt. It's not a case of lashing out at someone I care about because I think they will forgive the indiscretion.

I don't like her. I'm not obligated to like her. I especially don't like her communication style, her PA-ness, her falseness. She irritates me.

I don't think anything I said was particularly out of line, either. I don't think any of it was uncalled for, or harsher than I felt, or cruel. I think it was honest frustration and exasperation, said bluntly. It was my opinion, and I didn't claim to speak for anyone else, despite the fact that I know I'm not alone in my exasperation.

PA behaviour is something I've had a lifelong dislike and low tolerance level of. Someone from my past was most at home being manipulative and PA, and I had some very bad experiences with it, and it's something that regularly drives me nuts in others. It's just so dishonest. If you don't like something, or someone, bloody say so - don't dress it up as a joke or something else. If done particularly well, it's also something that I feel pretty helpless. Because although you know the real meaning, you can't call it, or answer it, because they then reply with "it was only a joke!" or, "I didn't mean it like that!". It means that they can say something out of order and outrageous, and then not stand by their words and not be held accountable for it. I've always had a low tolerance level of it, but perhaps, due to my stress levels, I have even less tolerance.

I really don't think I've done anything wrong though. Fuck knows. One thing that stands in my favour is that I have never even come close to losing it or even snapped that much in the entire time I have been a member of that community. It's not something I do on a regular basis, even if I feel like it. I guess I need to sleep on it, see if I feel remotely guilty or shame filled tomorrow.

Wishing I was there!

2005-07-02T14:50:00.000+01:00

Today is a big day, no doubt about that. It's a big day for Edinburgh, it's an even bigger day over the world. The G8 summit takes place next week in Scotland. The demonstration march is taking place as I type, in my city. I'm watching the news footage come in, on tv and online, and I'm amazed, and filled with perhaps a naive amount of joy. I wish I was at the meadows, or at Hyde Park, or on the march, or going to the Edinburgh concert tonight. I can't, because of mobility. But it's a larger issue than me being pissy about my body.

It's incredible. I have the Hyde Park concert on the tv, and they do these wide sweeping camera pans of the crowd - there are 200,000 people there. An estimated 100,000 (or over) are in Edinburgh. The whole thing sends shivers down my spine. The news crews do little vox pops of people on the marches, in the concerts, and they seem to have a pretty sophisticated understanding of the issues. There's gonna be a portion of people there for less than altruistic reasons, but my god, it's an illustration of people power at it's best. People turning out in volumes to mark their support for Africa, and for global changes for the better.

Naive, maybe. But my god, this is amazing. I've never felt so proud of human beings in my life.

The room of doom is no more!

2005-07-01T20:28:00.000+01:00

They finished my bathroom this afternoon! YAY!

Before I moved to this house, I was a council tenant. I'm now a Housing Association tenant, and although they both provide low cost good quality housing, there is a world of difference. I had two really bad experiences with council "improvements". One was fitting yucky, cheapass UPVC double glazing, and the other was fitting new central heating.

On the former, the place was left a complete pigsty, the guys kept the door open, (despite repeated requests to close it because of the cat) went to the toilet with the door open, didn't flush the toilet, and left me with a big hole in the outside wall under my kitchen sink, and you could actually see outside the building through it. The second joyous occasion, more toilet drama, one guy cut himself, and decided to wipe the profusely bleeding cut all over my curtains, someone unplugged the freezer, and I lost all my food, and they ripped my carpet.

Needless to say, my experience with larger building projects has been entirely negative, so although I've been looking forward to the end result, I wasn't too hopeful on quality, or mess. My god, how wrong was I. They cleaned up thoroughly every night, sweeping everywhere, they were polite, considerate, helpful, and appreciative of biscuits, tea and coffee. The shower looks fantastic, and there was a major added bonus, that I was not expecting.

The floorboards under the bath were rotting slightly, thanks to the awkward positioning and size of it, and they replaced them with entirely new boards. They also laid down some hardboard, and covered the entire bathroom floor (not big, granted) in high quality, non slip heavy grade linoleum. And it's not putrid stuff either - it's a deep blue with sparkly bits. It looks fantastic, and they put it down properly - even removing the toilet to fit it.

I'm deeply impressed: here are the pleasing results!

And there I was, being optimistic

2005-06-30T15:11:00.000+01:00

The builders had put my mail somewhere odd, so I didn't get my hands on it until about noon. It contained a letter from the darling people at the DSS, telling me that my appeal had been denied. I phoned them, whilst feeling rather wobbly, because I wanted to know what the hell I was supposed to do next.

Long story short, they gave me the "explanation", which was that they hadn't believed that things had deterioated as much as I had said, in such a short time. Cue tears. Ended up having a bit of a breakdown on the phone to them, and explaining, no, things are actually worse than was stated, and tried to explain. They ask this abstract question, "how far can you walk?" and I have no idea how to answer it. I did explain that standing on my legs for over five minutes hurt like hell, and that I was pretty much housebound.

Looks like it's another trip on the DSS merry-go-round.

I'm trying to come across as relatively chirpy in my own little way at the moment, but the truth is, I feel completely demoralised. I've had enough, and I can just see endless roads ahead of me fighting tooth and nail to get what I need, which means getting on with my education and living my life has to take a backseat, again. I'm not quite depressed, but I'm teary, lethargic, grumpy, and sick to the back teeth of all of this crap. I had some vague hope this morning that I might be able to swing getting into college this year, but this news has put a stop to that. It means I'm definitely not going to college in August - there's no way I can go without transport, and I won't hear about this level of appeal for another 11 weeks after the forms are completed. I keep bubbling and crying, and I get so paranoid and suspicious about friends, which is just plain wrong.

My mail also contained an appointment at rheumatology, for late August. It's sooner than I expected, but the whole appointment pack just filled me with a feeling of tiredness; all the poking and prodding and weight and urine, and guinea pigging meds that are, without much doubt, going to require more prodding and blood taking and nausea and tiredness. I know that this time it's a physical thing, but I'm just so fucking tired of all of that shit. I had it for 7 years with psychiatric crap, and now I have to go through it again.

Plus I applied to the bank for my cashline (ATM) card to be a debit card too - it would make such a difference, given my mobility issues. It would mean I wouldn't have to pay social work to send someone out to do a lousy job of my shopping; I could do it online. I could pay bills online. Anyhow, no definitive NO, but I got the bog standard plain one through the door this morning, which isn't a good indicator.

I'm whining. But I'm also completely demoralised, utterly fed up, and I just wish I could crawl into a big hole and come out when it's all over.

Shitting It

2005-06-30T11:09:00.000+01:00

In January or so, I redid my disability claim, citing a change of circumstances. I was aiming for an increase in my mobility component, because my mobility is getting less and less. It took 11 weeks for them to reach a decision, and it was rejected. I immediately appealed the decision, and have been waiting for the appeal decision for quite some time.

This has the potential to change my life dramatically. If I get this level of mobility, it qualifies me for help from a particular charity that takes that portion of my benefit allowance, and in exchange, teaches me to drive, and leases me a car. It means that I can get out and about, do my own shopping, go to galleries and museums, visit people, go where I want, when I want. Currently, I'm dependent on taxis. To get to the nearest reasonable size supermarket, it's approximately 1/2 a kilometre (about a third of a mile), it costs roughly 8-10 pounds for a round trip. Consequently, I rarely leave the house, because it costs too much.

Regardless of the little stuff, the big stuff is that it then means I can realistically go to college. There's no way, in the depths of winter, if I'm this impaired, that I can manage the bus system. If I can drive, I can get there easily, with minimum effort and stress.

I phoned them up today, after receiving a placatory form letter yesterday, apologising for taking so long. I wanted to explain that I thought I'd understated the problem, and that over the last 6 months since I had submitted my form, my condition had worsened. The woman tells me that they reached their decision, and a letter has been sent out, which I should receive Monday or Tuesday.

The utter bugger is that they can't tell me the answer over the phone. Sometimes, they're kind and they hint without outright telling you, but this one wasn't. I tried testing the waters and asking her to send out another set of forms for me to re-apply (hoping she would tell me yay or nay) but she told me to phone back should I need to when I receive the letter. I know they have to be careful, and that the calls are sometimes recorded "for training purposes", but damn it's frustrating. And they send it by 2nd class mail, too!

If I don't get this, then I'm going to have to make a concerted effort to build a stronger claim - involve social work, my GP and my homecare service too. If I do get it though, it will be backdated to January, which would be wonderful. At the very least, it would be 600 pounds. At the very very most it would be 3,400 pounds, but that's not likely!

Anyhow, I'm going to be on edge until I get that bloody letter.

My horrid little bathroom

2005-06-29T21:11:00.000+01:00

My titchy little bathroom is getting a massive makeover this week - I'm getting a shower instead of the midget-bath that's been there since I moved in! After I had about four hours sleep last night, the 3 uniformed, middle aged, large men arrived on my doorstep at 8am this morning. Apparently, the entire job'll be done by Friday morning - until then, I think sleep is pretty much off the agenda.

It's hard to explain just how small my bathroom is, and how putrid. Because the midget-bath was actually too big for the space, the taps dislodged the tiles behind them, causing some delightful mould to mutate behind it. I didn't much see the point of sorting it, or decorating, until this work had been completed. The lime green vomit walls are particularly fetching - I don't think you can appreciate the horrors of the colour unless you're actually in the cupboardesque bathroom, which has no windows.

Anyhow, I'm very very glad this shower is being installed - it's going to make a huge difference. Bathtime with my mobility is a precarious event that has to be worked up to. Getting out the bath is a particularly scary moment; will I fall, will my leg buckle, will the hand rail give way? My hair is also a bit of a drama too - it's very thick, very frizzy, and down to the bottom of my spine. Washing it is a noteworthy event in my week.

I ended up sleeping through some of the banging and crashing in the afternoon, and I can only assume they tried to wake me up before they left, but found me in a complete stupor, no doubt snoring and drooling at the same time. I woke up at about 4pm, and this is the progress so far, at the end of Day One.

Touch of Mania

2005-06-22T16:52:00.000+01:00

A long long time ago, I used to have fairly violent mood swings. The first psychiatrist I ever had any dealings with had diagnosed me as having BPD and Bipolar II (manic depression of a milder incarnation). He said I had either, he couldn't really tell, or I might have both. I've always suspected it was both, given that there's a prodigious family line of bipolar and plain ole dysfunction. BPD has officially been stricken off the list, which gives me no end of glee.

I had a little glimpse of what it would be like without meds this morning. I take a hefty whack of sedative medication in the evening, to help sleep, and to help even out my moods some. Last night I ended up on the phone to a friend for 10 hours straight (that's a record, even for me), and as a result didn't take my meds.

I was flying, basically. Rattling off at a ridiculous speed, jumping about, feeling very out of control, and manic as hell. Everything was going at half speed around me, and I felt like I was almost speeding. It wasn't the usual lack of sleep oddness, it was something very very different. It's been a very long time since I've had any kind of manic experience, and it scared the hell out of me.

I know when I'm manic I'm largely completely out of control and my impulse control goes to hell. I could just hear part of me going, ooooh, this is fun, let's stop all medication all together. Not that stupid anymore though - I know where that leads. I took a half dose of everything I missed last night and passed out for a few hours, but I'm still feeling very speedy and a bit unsettled.

I was thinking about trying to reduce down some of my meds further, but after this little glimpse, I think that would be a crazy stupid idea!

The Demonic Panda Cat

2005-06-20T23:33:00.000+01:00

I recently purchased a webcam, with a camera as an added bonus. The webcam works wonderfully, and is very clear. The camera is a bit shite, but it was a tenner, and you get what you pay for. I do want to get a separate camera which is half decent, but that's going to have to wait until I have some money.

I took a terrible photo of the cat, and fiddled in Photoshop, and came out with this - she looks rather demonic!

Cruel

2005-06-20T22:36:00.000+01:00

I have so little patience with borderlines right now. Correction. I have fuck all patience for those who have no sense of humour, are completely immersed in their own sense of drama and tragedy, and are completely uninterested in changing anything about themselves or their lives.

I post sporadically at a bulletin board, but generally only to those who I deem "worthy". So arrogant! It's usually to those who I think will listen and take on some of what I've said. My yahoo ID is actually available on the board, but very few people have used it. One woman has, and I've been chatting to her on and off this evening. I'm losing patience fast, because she is hell bent on finding the absolute tragedy in what is a pretty unavoidable slightly negative situation. She keeps giving off little jibes, as I try to reassure her of things - "well, at least they phone you" for example.

My Secret: I have no patience and have feelings of dislike towards them because they remind me of who I used to be.

Back

2005-06-19T09:56:00.000+01:00

I think I'm back - my brain seems to be functioning better, as are my hands. Whether that's getting used to copious amounts of dihydrocodeine, or that my joints are improving, I'm not entirely sure, but no doubt I'll work it out.

My sleep pattern got very fucked up there, but I bounced out of bed ridiculously early this morning - I'm guessing the idea of actually being able to eat and drink what I want today filled me with excitement. I'm on this diet - 3 days on it, 4 days off. Stupidly, I didn't weigh myself before I started, so I have no idea if I've shifted anything or not, but it feels like I might have. I have to find a suitable alternative for tuna for the next round though, I can't stand the stuff, fresh or tinned. I'm guessing salmon'd probably do.

My life is pretty tedious at the moment - I've been stuck in the house mostly, not able to do much. I've had to accept that I need more help with mobility stuff, and I need to stop being so proud about it. I'm going to have to have car access to be able to go to college, I've realised. If I have a flare-up like this while I'm there, there's no way I'd manage to get there - buses and walking to buses would utterly wipe me out. It's scary, because it looks like I might not get there this year.

I've finally upgraded to XP, and although I've been dreading it, there's actually a few features that I'm already in love with. ClearType being one of them. It's so nice being able to see fonts as they are meant to be displayed. A friend of mine *nods to friend* found an absolutely divine Visual Style called Opus OSX and I have never had such a peaceful and pretty desktop.

I have quite a bit of fiddling to do here - I want to update the links, fix the dodgy HTML, and maybe change the layout a little. Whether I'll get around to doing that today is another matter... I've bought a very basic digital camera (very very basic) and there is a ton of stuff I want to photograph, so expect some new and exciting images sometime soon.

I cannot recommend StumbleUpon highly enough. I'm guessing that sooner or later it's going to be taken over by idiot users, and have a pile of spam and crappy corporate links, but for now it's a way of finding some superb sites.

Arthritis update

2005-05-30T21:56:00.000+01:00

I'm on some rather hefty pain relief right now, so I'm a bit too stoned to update often. I will be back at some point, however.

Self-indulgent Whine

2005-05-25T12:22:00.000+01:00

I am so fucking sick of my joints. They're revoltingly swollen, and they hurt like hell. I'm in a position where I have to dope up on painkillers, which have an added effect of making me rather depressed. I'm depressed enough as is; it's summer, and I can't get out to do stuff, and if this continues through the festival, I'll miss yet another year of good comedy and drunken fun.

The flat is slowly taking shape, but I'm getting really bloody fed up staring at the TV or the computer - I want to do stuff, I want to trawl through charity shops, go out to the park round the corner, do some of the heavier grunt work in the house, weed the garden (I have dandelions that are 4ft high!) and go out and have fun.

Wahwahwah.

/whine over

For now.

Inspired Flash

2005-05-21T17:20:00.000+01:00

Using StumbleUpon for the last few days, I've come across the most astounding uses for Flash. I know not everyone likes it, and there are a ton of people using it who shouldn't (like this individual) but there are some incredible things that people are producing with it.

This site has pretty much no practical application, but yet its pretty awe inspiring; Typorganism.

This one is a piece of advertising. Normally that would send me screaming to the hills, but it's the best website for a webhosting company I have ever seen. There's tons of content, and you can be there for hours exploring, and playing the mini-game. It's set in "Bobs" office cubicle. Don't bother trying to load this with dialup - there isn't much point. Bob's Cube.

Remember Mr. Potato Head? This one is Mr Picasso Head. Far more interesting.

There is a wonderful site where you can design your own kaleidoscope, and I could play with it for hours. Unfortunately, for some reason, it seems to eat my CPU rather intensively. Here it is though....

This is an annoying little game that will keep you frustrated and clicking on Play Again... The Puki Game.

This is pretty much the same as above, but a different game. My high score so far is 92 squares, and I lay down the gauntlet; beat me if you can. Squares Two.

Even though I have a ton more to share, I better not completely flood this post with links. Enjoy!

Long time no post

2005-05-20T00:14:00.000+01:00

I've been busy. And lazy. And discouraged. I've spent a lot of time gassing on the phone, which has been wonderful. I didn't take the rejection from Napier too personally; I started looking at alternative things to do this year pretty quickly. It, combined with the negative news from the DSS did knock me a little flat though, so I stopped writing, I stopped doing anything but playing endless mindless computer games.

I finally gave myself the key to sanity, and bought myself a lovely new motherboard. It was cheap, cheerful, and it functions wonderfully. Turns out the PC Chips board really was a piece of shit - there wasn't enough voltage running through it to run the AGP 8X card it supposedly supported. Gotta love cheap crap, don't you?

The longer it got, the harder it became to write here. The more guilty I felt.

I have an endless pile of new links that I'm like a little kid about, and it's all because of a wonderful little plugin for Firefox (damnit, you should have that already!) called StumbleUpon. Get it, get it now. You'll be introduced to a plethora of sites that you usually only find once a week, if you're a prolific browser. I'll get to posting up the links, but I'm going to have to fiddle with the template and categorise them all, there's so many.

I got some crappy little virus, and it seems to have incited an arthritis and psoriasis flare. Lucky me. I've got some lovely paste to apply that causes cancerous tumours in mice, and mobility wise I'm pretty much stuck in the house unless I call a taxi. It was kind of pathetic today, I had to have someone come round to buy kitty litter from the shop across the road because my hands are too weak to carry the smallest bag. To be honest, I don't know if the virus came first and caused the flare up, or the flare up happened, and I began to feel like shit. I just hope to hell this passes, or I'm going to have to start taking comparative photos of my knees (one is twice the size of the other and growing).

I have other news, but I'm going to post that later. I'll be back soon. Yes, that's a threat.

Books

2005-04-30T21:29:00.000+01:00

Finally, after having been in this house almost a year, I've settled enough to begin unpacking my books. It's not an easy task; I have hundreds and hundreds of books, filling most of my spare bedroom in haulable plastic crates. I bought some sturdy and serviceable bookshelves a week ago, from the charity shop down the road, and I dismantled one rickety set of flatpack shelves that had seen better days. I'm slowly filling all the shelves up with my books.

Before I moved to this house, most of my books had been stacked in the back of a cupboard since 2001. When I went to Stirling University, I was essentially sub-letting out my flat, so I had to clear many of them away, so some of these books haven't been seen in a very long time. I had forgotten the variety of books that I used to enjoy, I had forgotten just how many very good books I own. I've been so busy remembering old books that have been lost to the god of "you-have-to-read-this, tell-me-what-you-think-when-you're-done!" that I had completely forgotten the bredth of the fantasy land I had stacked in grey and blue crates.

I've been an avid reader since I was a child. I would read all kinds of books, for adults and children, and completely immerse myself in the book. I would be almost mournful when I got to the end, it was like I had to return to reality. I think that's maybe why I enjoyed the Chalet School books so much - it was a continuing epic that lasted over 150 novels. I've always been an exceedingly fast reader; at school the teachers refused to believe I could read so fast, and were constantly sending me back to my desk to re-read the given chapter. When I couldn't sleep as a kid, books were my only solace. I would even walk down the street with a book in my hand, trying not to walk into lamp-posts, and failing miserably.

When I went to University, I got desperately ill, and I lost the ability to concentrate on reading. It got so bad, I couldn't even read bulletin boards, nevermind a novel. Slowly but surely, my ability has returned, but I haven't been able to recapture the passion for reading. I only read on bus journeys and on the loo; I haven't worked hard enough at sitting down with a good book. I think rediscovering the delights of my collection is going to make a big difference though - unpacking those boxes has given me excitement, which is suprising.

Didn't Make It

2005-04-26T16:43:00.000+01:00

Rod Stewart

2005-04-24T22:49:00.000+01:00

I thought I would be able to let it go, but no. I find myself here, again. I didn't overly mind Rod Stewart until I moved here, and discovered my neighbours are not just obsessive fans, they don't listen to anything else. I didn't mind Rod Stewart in that kind of way you don't mind someone or something if you don't think about them. Almost every Saturday night, between 10pm and 3am, its non stop Rod. They have the dance re-mixes, the acoustic versions, the extra bonus tracks - the full fucking works.

It's not just loud - it vibrates my walls, and wakes me up, which is a feat in itself. Usually I'm naked and medicated, and its not possible to go next door and complain. They're a bit of an odd couple, it has to be said, and I'm wary of approaching them. I did go next door once, when they were having their central heating installed, because it sounded like they were knocking down my wall, and it's not something I'd repeat. I called the police once, and when I told the guy what they were playing, he actually congratulated me on my restraint.

I'm constantly plagued by an image of Rod, and every time I hear his music, I see this image. I think I could probably sue them for emotional distress.

Gloss paint wheeze

2005-04-24T18:50:00.000+01:00

I never used to be allergic to the stuff! I just did the woodwork in the mini room, and my skin has come out in a bit of a rash, and I'm wheezing like crazy. It'll be fine once it dries out some, and I have the windows open, so it should be ok. Its looking great, I just need to get a tall person to finish off the bits I can't reach. I'm gonna have to buy a new set of ladders when I get stuck into this house; I can't keep playing the midget card.

I've finally realised why this whole house looks so filthy - not only are the walls in really grubby colours, but all the woodwork is in cream, which makes it look really dirty. Doing that mini-room next to the hall made me realise that actually, my house isn't as much of a filthy hell hole as it looks.

Summer project is decoration, methinks.

Decor

2005-04-24T13:36:00.000+01:00

I decided to finally get started on this bloody house. I've been here nearly a year, but in a few months I switch from a short term lease to a long term one, and I can relax some. There's a lot that needs done, and I've done bugger all. I decided to start small, and as this house is filled with endless walk in cupboards, I've decided to turn one of them into a storage area for all my 'bathroom' crap. The bathroom is tiny, so there's no space for it there.

I dug out some white paint yesterday, cleared the cupboard, and started painting. First off, I'm never buying cheap paint again. There's rust on the inside of the can, so thats been a bit tricky. Second off, I ended up having to use a whole bunch of muscles that I haven't used in years, so today I'm aching like hell. I can't reach the ceiling! I'm going to have to get someone taller than me (not difficult) to finish it off, because I'm such a bloody midget.

So, while I'm painting and shifting stuff everywhere, I'm playing pretty loud music. Its between 6ish and 8ish in the evening, which I think is pretty reasonable. My neighbours take this as a sign that its perfectly acceptable for them to start playing loud music between 11pm and 3 in the fucking morning. I don't do the loud music thing often, but they seem to think anytime I do, that gives them an automatic right to blast their bloody Rod Stewart into my living room.

I'm a pretty good neighbour - I don't blare music late into the night, and I put up with their crap, but 5 fucking versions of Maggie May at 2 in the morning is beyond the pale. I can't quite decide what I'm going to do about it, but it will be mean, evil and unnecessary.

It's begun already

2005-04-22T20:12:00.000+01:00

BBC NEWS | Europe | New Pope condemns Spain gay bill

I've never been a huge fan of Catholicism. I've had periods of my life where I've been fascinated by the inner workings of it in practice, and I've read many novels with a backdrop of austerity and Catholic schooling, or communities.

I watched the appointment of the new pope with interest; I dearly hoped for a new direction, an African pope perhaps, with a greater focus on tackling the AIDS crisis with practicality and good sense. I was bitterly disappointed with the appointment of Ratziger. The church had an opportunity to prove itself as relevant to today's issues and to their core support base, but singularly failed to do so.

This latest statement from Benedict XVI is horrendous. It refuses to acknowledge that gay people have as much right to family, marriage and children as straight people, and contradicts itself when it tries to present itself as a campaigner for social justice. Misogyny, prejudice and a failure to relate to the real lives and challenges of the world today are probably going to be Benedicts lasting legacy.

What the hell does it matter?

2005-04-20T21:34:00.000+01:00

I have the BBC live bookmarks thingy in my favourites, and I check it several times a day. Today, there was an article titled "India rejects HIV claim". Basically, there is a difference of opinion as to the number of people infected with HIV in India. The government say 5.1 million people, and the international folk say it could be anywhere between 2.5 million and 8.5 million. Government estimations of these kinds of statistics are always on the low side, they seem to think if they underpresent the scale of the problem it somehow makes them look better.

Example: Unemployment figures. Every so often, they get dragged out as a representation of how well/badly economies are doing. They've been falling and falling, but generally, its not because more people are employed in crappy minimum wage jobs, its because there's been a new idea of how to shave a few thousand people off the criteria. In this country, unemployment is measured by the number of people who claim Jobseekers allowance. If you've been fired, you can't claim. If you left a job without good reason, you can't claim. If you refuse to meet certain conditions of claiming, you won't be included. So, not included in that figure are the vast numbers of single parents trying to get out of benefits into work, the disabled in the same situation, the long term sick, and all those people who don't meet the specific criteria for Jobseekers.

It seems to me, the concern is that India doesn't want to have a name for itself of having the most HIV infections in the world. When it reaches the millions of people stage, that ceases to have an effect. People tend not to be able to think in terms that large. There is so much about AIDS that is so desperately mismanaged, but pissing about squabbling about bloody numbers seems to be such a waste of time, given the life and death nature of HIV infection. Why aren't governments coming together and making cohesive, global policy on treating AIDS? Because they act out of gross self interest of the richest few, and protecting the status quo of morality in their nations, regardless of how many lives are needlessly lost.

HIV/AIDS issues, especially in poorer countries with minimal education, infrastructure, extreme poverty and no access to medical facilities DEMANDS a new morality. It is simply not enough to say abstain from sex or die. It's not enough for drug companies to plead profit-making in answer to questions about availability of medication for the desperately poor. None of it is enough.

Lost the will to browse

2005-04-20T19:41:00.000+01:00

For a wee while back there, I just lost all inclination to click on links and go on a meander around the net. I would switch on, look at my usual staples (a few blogs, BBC news, bulletin board, check my email) and wait impatiently to speak to a select few people on Yahoo. Or switch off the machine.

I had a net browsers block. Much like a writers block, its when you stop reading new stuff, you stop just looking around and finding new things to be excited about, and you can't imagine any point where you could do that again.

Currently I've got Jeremy Paxman interviewing the Blair puppet on BBC 1 in the background - its painful. I'm doing well - 14 minutes and I haven't thrown anything at the TV yet, or yelled out loud. He's lying, as per usual, and sliming his way out of answering any questions. Well, he's a politician after all.

Anyway, internet finds for the day: This is a hilarious video clip, Finnish video disco-dance lessons. Scary but mesmerising.

I was scanning through Smirking Chim p today and found an article about this blog, called Baghdad Burning. Its written by a young woman, the same age as me, living in Baghdad. I can't believe that people in the Western world have been so ignorant as to email her with self-righteous and factually incorrect criticism about her take on the occupation of her country, it just bowls me over.

For those of my age and thereabouts, who remember clearly playing Mario games on the old NES, SNES and Gameboy systems, this will seem wrong and dirty!

Still reluctant

2005-04-19T16:29:00.000+01:00

I'm still strangely reluctant to write at the moment, its very odd given how easily things were flowing a while back. I'm feeling rather melancholy and tearful at the moment, and its not entirely pleasant. I keep reassuring myself that it will pass, but as any past depressive will tell you, the fear that it won't can be terrifying.

I did score an interview, for Thursday, at the University. It gives me a bit of relief, that I've not been rejected out of hand, but I have no idea what to expect from it, or what they're going to ask me. I'm looking forward to it, but I'm also rather scared.

Not been around

2005-04-18T05:20:00.000+01:00

I've not been here for almost a week, and I've been feeling bad about it.

The last week or so has been an interesting one. I've had a lot of fun, and felt pretty good about myself. I've spent a ridiculous amount of time on the phone (which is great), and I've also been caught in this feeling of "I can't be arsed doing anything but that's ok" thing. I've written some, but it hasn't been here - its been in emails and posts.

I was doing fine until Saturday night - went out with his lordship. Its become painfully clear that there isn't anything salvageable, and that its his way or the highway. I'm not going to accept a friendship where if the going gets tough, he walks. I'm not going to sit through dinners where he can't stop himself from constant jibes at me. I don't trust him, and nothing in the last few weeks has given me any indication that I ever should. It would be different if he admitted he had his own share of issues and was trying to deal with them, but that's not the case. He sees everything in black and white terms, and there's nothing I can do to change that.

I was pretty upset when I got home on Saturday night, and N talked me down some, which was great. I spent yesterday in bed, mostly, which is why I'm up at this ridiculous time in the morning. I think I'm done crying though, which is a good thing.

Bleed Like Me

2005-04-11T18:16:00.000+01:00

I'm a rabid Garbage fan. Their first stuff was out when I was about 15, 2nd album I got into at 19, 3rd at 21, and now their 4th has just come out here, today. Each of these ages has been a turnaround time for me, and their music has been a bit of a soundtrack to my life.

I remember listening to each of the albums once, and not absolutely loving it all first time around. I know it takes a while to get into, and at different times, different songs stick out. Unlike a lot of people, I liked the third album. Blasting it out of my pokey little room at Uni was one hell of an escape for me. I've always loved the darkness of the lyrics, and the music just bites at you, and craves the kind of volume that pisses off your neighbours.

I've only listened through the album once, so I don't really think I'm overly qualified to comment on it, but there was some stuff that stood out. There seems to be more depth to the music, more use of violins and cellos and definitely more guitar. There's a couple of songs that on the surface seem to be pretty weak on melody, but with the lyrics as sharp as ever. Its a pretty dark album, and I have no doubt that I'll grow to love it - I just can't wait for them to come to Scotland.

IBS Notes

2005-04-11T09:38:00.000+01:00

Do not order chinese food with large amounts of chilli in it.
Do not eat leftovers of said food at 11pm.
Do not top that off with coffee and pills in the morning.

Make Poverty History

2005-04-10T18:23:00.000+01:00

I've added the white band to my blog, and its going to stay there. Please visit the site, read and learn and support the global campaign, where ever you live. We have it within our power to make a huge difference to our planet and people living in extreme poverty, we just need to rise up and take a stand. Too many of us are filled with apathy - it's time to get angry and get involved.

Since 1999, there has been a campaign to drop 3rd world debt. If we did this, it would give third world countries an opportunity to rebuild their countries with basic health care, social infrastructure and a way to survive and thrive. We need trade justice, and an end to rich countries like the UK and US exploiting the poorest people in this world.

If you do nothing else on the site, please view these video clips. I think they say everything that needs said.

Click

Orphans

Get out my face!

2005-04-09T20:34:00.000+01:00

I'm a little irked. I don't give a shit about Charles and Camilla, but yet the news has been blanketed with crap about them getting married, about what she was going to wear, about whether the Queen was supportive or not, about the "ghost" of Diana, what the princes thought, what the legal setting was, does the public approve or disapprove, will she become Queen, and many many more "stories".

This isn't news. The vast majority of people do not give a shit. This kind of blanket coverage was also true with the pope's death - and they "cleverly" managed to combine the two - the dates clashed. BIG FUCKING DEAL. We have 5 analogue channels in Britain; two of them dedicated 3 and a half hours to the event. The news is full of it, and I just don't care.

I don't particularly care about the royal family. Yeah, they bump up tourist visitors a bit, and some people have a fascination with them which borders on the morbid, but they really do not have much of a place in modern Britain. The few powers that the Queen retains are largely symbolic; she has no real political sway. They cost a fortune to maintain, and frequently make tits out of themselves. They're an intermittent comedy really - but with a sense of entitlement and inbuilt arrogance. They are meant to represent British life and interests, but they have a knack for being ignorant, rude and lacking in any sense of what it really means to be British. They are out of touch with reality, and as time goes on, they show their ignorance and lack of dignity on a regular basis. Survival for them, in their current positions, relies on a very savvy use of the media, and an intimate knowledge of the real problems of our society, and a more caring and less officious attitude. I can't see that happening anytime soon.

I just wish those of us who don't care could avoid the nonsense, much like this bloody wedding. From past experience, it's going to take a few days for all the crap to die down, and for me to be able to read or watch the news again. Bastards.

nose full of snot

2005-04-08T23:52:00.000+01:00

I know, charming description. I'm feeling a bit shitty again, and I was lying on the couch, watching trash tv and waiting for my meds kick in, and I started sniveling, and tearing up. It wasn't anything on tv - there's nothing that emotive or meaningful on tv at this time of night - it was just a little ball of misery that's been building up. I couldn't remember whether I'd taken my meds, and how much if I had, but managed to figure it out.

Its the usual thing, I think. His lordship called, and he'd had a few pints. Its sometimes a pain in the arse speaking to him like that, and sometimes its refreshing, because he's a lot more open about things, instead of being so evasive and secretive. Wasn't a good moment to start getting into the stuff thats been nagging at me though. Maybe a little pointer that when I do want to have that conversation, a few pints might help.

Anyway, here I am, Friday night, sitting watching crappy tv on my own again. I'm lonely a lot of the time, and it hurts to even admit that. When I got really really sick a few years ago, there weren't many people I would let anywhere near me. Maybe two or three. His lordship was trying very hard to be all things to me at that time, and I got very lazy about friends. I stopped calling people, I stopped going out, I stopped communicating. It became harder and harder to fake being happy, and harder to find things to talk about, because I lost interest in everything. I was largely agoraphobic and totally lacking in energy, so I just didn't want to go out. It got to the stage where a trip to the local supermarket was an event.

The net result is that here I am, better than I was, wanting to socialise and go out more, and there's no-one here anymore. Stirling and the aftermath of that so completely destroyed my confidence, things I once found easy are now incredibly difficult.

I'm feeling sorry for myself, which is a big fat waste of time.

Food musings

2005-04-07T18:13:00.000+01:00

Food is getting interesting. I think I'm slowly unlearning all the emotional eating stuff that keeps me from dieting. Its not that I eat too much; I eat too little. But I've been eating the wrong things, and all in an evening meal. I'm terrified of dieting, to be honest, because I'm scared that its a one way trip back to anorexia/bulimia. Its nice to be skinny, but the amount of time and energy you expend on obsessing about food and eating and weight and looks is just not worth it. You also have this arrogance that you're in control; you aren't, it controls you. Anyway, I'm noticing things more. The other night I had chicken kiev (pre-packaged) and oven chips, and I was ravenous two hours later. I don't get like that when I'm eating more fibre and protein stuff. I've developed a bit of liking for falafel and houmus, on pita bread, and it fills me up and keeps me full, compared to the traditional processed carb meals I used to eat more of.

I had a friend over to dinner last night, and I made a roast dinner. Even if I buy things pre-packaged to make a roast dinner, I end up adding butter and other bits and pieces to make it taste "better". I don't make a roast dinner often, so its often a treat. Last night I didn't add anything, and the potatoes were dry roasted, very crispy. The chicken breast joint was nice and juicy, but with minimal fat. I made the gravy with water, and I only briefly dry fried the greenery; it tasted delicious, in a totally different way from the butter laden kind of thing I used to make. The asparagus and the broccoli were crunchy, almost raw in the middle, and there was no grease on the plate.

I think there's a place in my life for stodge (PMT time, I get massive cravings for simple carb laden crap) but that I'm getting more sensible about my cooking, and learning to enjoy different ways of eating. I like eating stuff that my system has a harder time processing; you feel more alert but yet full.

Naughty Naughty

2005-04-07T18:06:00.000+01:00

I haven't been posting here as much as I was, or as much as I should be. I think its probably because I've been posting more at the BB I go to, and I've been writing emails more than I usually do. Its as if there's only so much I can say in a day. I've been in a weird mood today - a bizarre mix of melancholy and hyper. I don't like having odd mixed feelings like that during the course of a day - its really confusing. On one hand I want to shout nonsense from the rooftops and on the other I want my mum to magically appear, give me a hug, and wait on me hand and foot, complete with apologies and love and acceptance that she wasn't capable of in real life. I want to be a kid again, but in an idyllic unreal environment, where I'm loved and cherished and hugged, and filled to the brim with love.

The thing about BPD, despite being allegedly recovered, is that its like there's this giant black hole inside of you. If my basic understanding of physics is correct, its much like a real black hole, in space. The black hole leaves you with a feeling of emptiness, of need for love, affection, care and closeness. You want it so badly, you can taste it. Sometimes you just want someone to hold you until you fall asleep. The problem is, nothing anyone, or any combination of people can do will fill that hole. You could pile all the love in the world into that black hole, and it would still suck in more into this empty pit. Most days I don't feel like this. Most days, I'm not even aware of the black hole, and I do nice things for myself, and give myself a break, but there are these odd days where you can feel it.

Its an odd day today, and that flash of inspiration and clarity I had on comparative culture hasn't reappeared. I should have just ran with it when it was there, instead of putting it off.

As this whole fog of mental illness is lifting, I'm realising that my house is a complete state, and I deserve to be living in a better environment. The house is a state because I'm messy and don't clean, things aren't unpacked or hung or shelved, and its still a pigsty. I need to get my act in gear, and fix it. I used to be such a DIY nut, but it all boils down to lack of confidence and lack of energy. I have to get my energy levels up, its as simple as that.

I borrowed a friends credit card last night (with permission!) and ordered a whole bunch of stuff from that company that does the face masks - lots of interesting stuff I'd like to try, so I should get a box with a bunch of pampering myself goodies, which'll cheer me up.

Limited Positivity

2005-04-05T16:32:00.000+01:00

Went to the GPs today, it was pretty positive all around. I told him that I'd been fiddling with my meds, trying to knock down some of the sedative elements to allow me to have a bit more energy, and he was pleased and impressed. We're even discussing bumping down most of my prescriptions to monthly from weekly, as I'm not inclined to be sedated anymore. He also said that the difference between me now and me when he met me is huge, and that he's impressed with the work I've done.

I'm fiddling with my sedatives now because I figure its the best possible timing, before I go to Uni. I get frightened at how little energy I have on a day to day basis, and I know part of that equation is medication. I'm tired today, but that's more to do with getting up at 6am than the whole meds thing. I'm aiming to get down to about 200mg of Trazadone and 250mg of Seroquel.

I was lounging about, feeling pretty damn rotten this afternoon, and remembered I had this face mask sachet, that I'd bought ages ago. Its a fabric face mask, one use, and its got tons of oils and vitamins in it. You lie down, cover your face with it, and stay there for about 10 minutes, and its bloody amazing - complete energy boost, and I had a headache but its gone. It makes me feel pretty much human again, and everytime I use one, I go back and buy five of them and distribute to all and sundry. Its called a Face Tonic, and if you can lay your hands on some, BUY THEM. If you can't and you're a pal, I might mail you a few if you ask nicely.

Had a banking problem, and my bank has given me an overdraft. Its not much, its only 50 quid, but I'm disproportionately pleased. They have flat out refused to give me an overdraft ever since I was at Stirling Uni, because my credit scoring was so completely awful; its a bit of a sign that my fiscal responsibility is being recognised. YAY!

Ideas

2005-04-04T19:02:00.000+01:00

Grrr... Blogger just deleted my post, and my dinner is ready. Bastard.

I gave out the address for this place to someone else today, and as per usual, I'm a bit nervous. This whole journaling/expressing my opinions more forcefully and not apologising for them thing is pretty new for me, so I had a quick scan through what I'd written here. I realised most of it is unstructured whining, and I wanted this blog to be slightly more than that. The only things I've written here that have been referenced and more critical were the Dave Pelzer one and the IVF and NHS one.

Anyway, I was playing some addictive crappy thing at Yahoo Games and I was talking to myself, partly out loud and partly in my head, and I thought oooh, I must go to Blogger and write this down. I was thinking about American v British culture, and a whole bunch of related stuff. I then had a thought that's prolly going to give me a headache; that I need to practice more structured writing for Uni, and this was probably going to be as good an opportunity as any. I'm not going to write a balanced, well referenced essay - more of critical opinion piece, try and ease myself back into the world of essay plans et al. I realised it had been over 3 years since I last wrote something decently. It also gives me a task for the week, which given my boredom levels, can only be a good thing.

Anyway, I wrote it up here because it'll serve as a nagging reminder.

General Grumbles

2005-04-04T16:23:00.000+01:00

I end up not writing on a Sunday, I don't know why. Its perhaps because I'm usually a bit out of it on a Sunday, and I have a tendency to be bored and agitated and unable to concentrate on much of anything.

There's been a few things nagging at me recently, and one of them is the whole best friend thing. I think I might have finally put my finger on why. When we had the massive blowout, my best understanding of where he thought things were is that I was pretty much dependent on him, that I hung off his every word, that I expected him to be all things for me, that I wanted him on tap, 24/7, and that if he withdrew all of that, I would crumble completely. From what he has said, and some of the more insulting things that were thrown around, that was his assessment of the situation.

My reality was that these things were not true. They were true once, but they were no longer true now, and hadn't been so for about 6 months. I relied on him, but I was also extremely frustrated at the unequal nature of our relationship, and at his refusal to see me as anything other than a dependent. I was pissed off about the lies, evasions and manipulations, and I kept bringing it up as an issue.

What keeps on bugging me about that massive blow out is, I think, a matter of intent. From his perceptions, the insults, the anger and the actions were going to create a situation where I crumbled to the floor and collapsed in a heap of misery and suicidal actions. They didn't, because his perception of the situation was very different from the reality, but the intent was there.

That's what's upsetting me. That he was willing and pretty eager to do something that, in his mind, would "destroy" me, and now, a few weeks later, expects me to act as if nothing happened, and as if things are the same as they always have been.

What do I now do with that? I don't know, I honestly don't. I don't know whether to tell him to swivel on it and walk, or stick with the status quo, or try and help him see where I'm coming from, or to try and give him a rude wake up call, or what. Suggestions on a postcard please.

"Dogs"

2005-04-01T20:41:00.000+01:00

I know the world is a fucked up place, but there is such a thing as too much. I was watching the Brit version of Entertainment Tonight (so yeah, the feeling of disgust and horror is pretty much self induced). Firstly I gotta say, I loathe and despise the growing trend for these revolting little dogs that are hairless, or so midgety and overbred they look like genetic mutants. They seem to be the it girls latest fashion accessory. Ignoring the fact that these dogs are perfectly formed for a good old fashioned drop kick, they're pretty damn ugly.

ET just showed a department store in LA that caters for the little mutants. You can buy "adorable" little pink angora jumpers for them, or the "cutest" little fashionable handbags to carry them in with their revolting little heads sticking out, and you can even buy an outfit to match the dogs. Some celebrities have spent upwards of 100,000 in one shopping spree there. Excuse me, but I want to vomit. I'm not gonna start on the "how many wells in Africa could you build with that", because lets face it, that goes without saying. Accessorizing an animal? Accessorizing WITH an animal? What happens when they get less "cute" and less fashionable? Its not just decadent, its wasteful. Diamond studded dog collars. Silk pajamas. I can think of better ways to spend money, even if you have millions going spare.

Addendum: I forgot the worst bit! There was a "doggy day care" which had a massive flatscreen plasma tv in the room where all these tiny rabid beasts had custom made bunkbeds. Not only that, but one of the women working there was painting these dogs CLAWS, in a nice slutty red.

USB breakdown

2005-03-31T18:58:00.000+01:00

I think I've mentioned that I hate and loathe this computer. Looks like its little trip to the shop, or the PSU blowout has caused an outage in USB function. Complete and total. No scanner, no webcam, no printer. I'm rather pissed off, needless to say. Yup, I've tried reinstalling the USB connection drivers, I've had a look at the motherboard and it seems undamaged, the jumpers look like they're in the right place - I DESPAIR.

Dinner Oddness

2005-03-30T21:56:00.000+01:00

I went out to dinner tonight, with, well, my best friend, for wont of a better phrase. He's been alluded to here, and when I started this blog we were not speaking. Its a very long, convoluted complicated story - suffice it to say we have known each other for 5 years and have had varying degrees of unhealthiness within the relationship. After the massive fall out a few weeks ago, I am now very wary of him, I don't trust him an awful lot, and I'm trying to make sure that any friendship we have in the future is on an equal basis and with completely new ground rules. I don't know if this is going to work, to be honest.

Tonight was very very odd. I wonder if he thinks that I've had my stompy foot about boundaries and now things can go back to normal, because tonight was, from his behaviour and words, a return to the usual. He said he was very tired; its hard work when he is, because it sometimes seems like it's sulking, and its like something dies in his eyes... A light goes out. One thing I've enjoyed about there being much more distance is not having to give an account of the minutiae of my day, not having to justify my existence. The usual list of questions were there tonight, which I definitely don't like. "Did you pick up your meds?" "What are you doing tomorrow?" "How about grocery shopping?" "How is the money situation?" "How about the rent arrears?" "How about the phone bill, how much more do you owe them?" I did try to say jokingly, "You know, you don't have to go through that list of questions anymore, I'm doing fine, I don't need this kind of thing anymore."

They felt to me almost unnecessary, an intrusion. But for me there has been a massive change in attitude towards him in the last few weeks, and I'm not sure if he realises that. I was just trying to be myself; vaguely gregarious, good company, talking about stuff I think he's interested in. Not hanging off his every word, not constantly asking "are you ok?" "have I done something to piss you off?" and it was very odd. I would look around the restaurant, and instead of me trying to keep him involved in conversation, it was the other way around.

Usually, when I'm feeling confident and vaguely comfortable, I can tell a good story, and I have plenty of outrageous anecdotes to choose from. When I'm nervous, it becomes more long winded, convoluted and I repeat myself some. In a fight a few months ago, he said I was long winded, repeated myself, and pretty boring. He said a lot of things, but that's the one I've remembered, the one I've held onto and taken personally. It had the adverse effect of making me more nervous. I tried very hard to ignore the nervous shit tonight, and I think I might have been successful on that one.

When it came time to get a taxi home, there was an awkward moment, as if we didn't quite know whether to hug or not. Usually I would give him a bit of a bear hug, because it felt safe and secure, and it was pretty much the only physical contact I ever had; I wanted to hold onto that for as long as possible. I didn't feel like that tonight, I don't know if I'll ever feel safe enough again, and I gave him a bit of a fake hug and a kiss on the cheek.

I think redefining this relationship is going to be a lot harder than I thought; I don't think there's a realisation on his part just how much my feelings towards him and our relationship have changed.

Optical Mouse

2005-03-30T11:49:00.000+01:00

I know, I know; they've been around a long time. I just didn't get around to buying one, until today. I got sick of battling with my mouse, thumping it against the desk, and rolling it around for ages trying to get it to do what I want, and click on the link damnit.

I went into the local shop that periodically fixes the bastard machine from hell, and picked up a rather pretty blue and silver optical mouse for a tenner. I know its not a household bill or a necessity, but I really did want to stop doing battle with the other one, and hey, I didn't buy the cordless one...

After a little fiddling with my cables (ooh err) I got it working, and my god what a difference. It responds instantly! There's no sticking, or bad behaviour! The rotating button scrolls smoothly and with effortless motion!

I am officially a sad fucker. My mood has been elevated by a lump of plastic.

So Fucking Tired

2005-03-29T22:55:00.000+01:00

I feel like someone has kicked seven kinds of shit out of me. I need an all over body massage, a big hefty dose of morphine, and some serious pampering by skantily clad people.

I need to quit sleeping on the couch and get back to sleeping in my bed. I just fall asleep watching tv, and have an oh so convenient sleeping bag and pillow on the couch. It kills my back, and the rest of my joints, which lets face it, I could do with being kinder to. I woke up on the opposite end of the sofa at 430 this morning, which wasn't the most comfortable, I have to admit. There's something soothing about going to sleep with the Discovery channel on - I like to think I learn shit in my sleep, which is probably bullshit.

There are different kinds of sleep, and given mine is mostly chemically induced, its not the most restful. But then I've had problems getting to sleep, staying asleep, waking up at an appropriate time ever since I can remember. Sometimes I think I'd kill for a night of restful sleep where I wake up and feel refreshed and eager to start the day. Usually I roll out of bed, crawl to the loo, crawl to the kitchen, make coffee, gulp down stomach pills, drink coffee, take more meds, pry open my eyes and squirt contact lens solution into them, and peer at my email, which is usually advertising.

The nicest nights sleep I can remember was when I was down south, visiting friends. I would sleep like the dead, no nightmares, nice dreams, if any, and I'd be gently woken up, with a steaming cup of hot coffee and a friendly face.

I do get lonely sometimes. I like being single (its safer, I behave better, no risks) and I mostly love living alone - you can look like shit, you can slob about, you don't have to be considerate, you don't have to be mindful of someone else, you don't have to shut the loo door, you don't have to creep around if you can't sleep, trying not to wake anyone. But it does get terribly lonely. Sometimes I just yearn for someone to hold me, for some affection and comfort and warmth.

One of the reasons I had for staying single was that I was too fucked in the head; now thats not so accurate. I still feel like I'm somehow damaged goods, and the main thing for me now is being so fat and feeling ugly within myself. I know not everyone considers me ugly because of the fat, but the most important thing is that I do. I can't bear to touch my body, I loathe looking in the mirror, so how could I let someone else look or touch? I need to do something about it without half killing myself in the process, I just feel so demoralised, so far gone.

Ocht, listen to me; PMT, tired, grumpy and talking shite.

I wish I could post this...

2005-03-28T21:21:00.000+01:00

There's a bulletin board I go to, its for people with BPD. It's a great place, and it has helped me a lot. Officially, I'm recovered, but I still go there for support, and to help others. It's got such a healthy atmosphere, and it is one of the most positive place of its ilk that I've ever found online. However, there is a woman there who has irritated me so much, I wish I could just post something full of very harsh truths, but I know I can't. I've tried posting numerous times in a gentler nicer manner, and I thought I could probably get what I really want to say down here, so I don't say it there. She is at a very different place in her recovery than I am.

I've been humming and hawing about letting people at the BB know about this, and vice versa. I can't decide if I want to keep both "identities" separate or not. I guess this post'll solidify the solution by default. I know that part of my problem with this woman is about my past experiences, and some of the stuff that happened in my home when I was younger.

I think that if your children are under 18, you have a duty of care that comes first. It comes before your romantic relationships, it comes before your career choices, it comes before full stop. If your life choices prove to be incompatible with your child's health and wellbeing, you have a duty to do something about it. This is a rough draft of what I'd really like to say to her.

It's shit or get off the pot time. I know you're depressed, but only you can do something about that. You can't sit around waiting for a magic pill, or a magic phrase from your therapist, it isn't going to happen. Your daughter is suffering, and you are in control of that, and you are doing nothing but sitting and whining about it.

You have a duty, and you're failing it. Your daughter should come first. Your current husband is abusing your daughter. You know that, we all know that. Why are you sitting there letting it happen?

Do you not remember how fucking horrible it is to be 14? Everything is in constant flux; you're ruled by hormones, even if you're popular you know that could change in a nanosecond, you're terrified, you don't know who you are, you're desperately insecure, every mistake feels like the end of the world, you both hate and love your parents - on one hand you want to be cuddled and babied and loved, and on the other you want them to leave you alone and give you more freedom. Everything feels horribly insecure, school is pressure, home is pressure, friends are pressure. You desperately want to feel loved, but you don't know how that happens. Its like a big dose of BPD hell.

Your daughter already has enough negative shit in her life. She has a self-obsessed depressed BPD mother, a father who lets her down and is miles away, an autistic younger brother who by necessitity gets more attention than she does. She has enough indicators for emotional distress and issues in later life as it is; then you add to that your husband who abuses her. He calls her a bitch, stupid, and plays obvious favourites - he treats her like he hates her, and blames her for everything. How the hell is she meant to survive that with healthy self esteem?

She deserves more. You owe her more. She is your child, and you are telling her that your husband is more important than she is. Currently, you are setting your child up with the perfect precursors for BPD, PTSD, Depression, or any combination of the above. Why the hell would you do that when you know how hellish that can be? You were not to know that your husband would be this way, but you DO know now. DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. How is she supposed to listen to you tell her that she should value herself, when you are implicitly telling her she has no value?

You have to quit whining about how shit everything is, and about how she's doing all these horrible things (she's doing these horrible things because she's miserable and needs help, for goodness sake) and how nasty your husband is to her, and fucking do something about it. Leave. Even if its temporarily. That tells him its not acceptable, and it tells her that its not acceptable. She is not in control of this situation, YOU ARE. Stop sitting passively whining about it and do it, even if its just for her.

grumpy and whiny and fucked off

2005-03-28T20:26:00.000+01:00

Ok. So, I'm about to have pasta and tomato sauce for the zillionth time, smoking bloody roll-ups which I can't fucking stand, I have no money, I'm agitated and irritated and pissy, I have PMT, I'm impatiently waiting for a certain somebody to call me and let me know where I stand, I'm so fucking bored and the tv schedules are that diabolical, that I'm forced to watch Judging bloody Amy.

On top of all of that, I can't let myself fully wallow in this pit of grumpiness; I'm telling myself I'm being a whiny bitch who won't shut the fuck up, and that I should quit being so hormonal and pissy. This is the crux of PMT, not only can no-one else win, but I can't either.

Somebody mainline chocolate into my bloodstream, please??

Wasted

2005-03-28T14:51:00.000+01:00

I was slobbing on the couch on Saturday night, debating whether to have a long needed bath or to just take my meds (my life is so exciting!) and I got a phone call from a longtime net friend, who was in town with his wife minus the kids, wondering if I was up to anything. We all went out (I'm horribly skint, so I ended up sponging, which I hate - I will be doing a nice dinner one night for them) and I really enjoyed myself; few drinks, some food and then the cinema. It being the night the clocks changed though, I didn't get home until 4am. I pretty much slept all day yesterday, with the odd interlude for a fag.

I'm still knackered today; didn't wake up until 12, and I'm force feeding myself coffee (of the nasty instant variety) to try stay awake through the day. I'm absolutely wasted, so incredibly tired. As I thought, today is a pretty extensive public holiday, so I'm uberskint, but I still have tobacco, which is the main thing.

We went to see Constantine, and I really liked it, I have to say. I absolutely love the Sandman graphic novels, and Constantine makes a few guest appearances in the Sandman, so it really helped me get into the film a lot more, knowing some of the background to it. It actually made me want to read the Hellblazer series. The representation of hell was frightening, but very stylised, almost comic like.

There was one big drawback though. Keanu Reeves. I can't think of anyone else, off the top of my head, who could have played the part, but he always seems to be a one trick pony. He plays a variety of parts, but I have never been able to see him as seperate people within his films. It always seems to be the same character, doing different things. I found him a bit cringy in Constantine, but it didn't hugely detract from the film, thankfully.

Stupid Junkie

2005-03-26T18:00:00.000Z

I'm really in a mood today of booting the crap out of myself, aren't I? Well, in these two cases its well deserved. I need to get on top of the money thing properly, or I'm going to end up crashing from one payment to the next, and its ludicrous. I'm getting in trouble with bill paying when I shouldn't be.

I have psoriatic arthritis, and its absolutely necessary for me to be taking painkillers, usually pretty hefty ones, daily. Currently I'm on Mobic and Tramadol XR. Mobic is working pretty well, and its an NSAID, so I don't really have to worry about that. The Tramadol, if I take it properly, works ok, I don't get high, and I don't get withdrawals. However, the key thing is, if I take it properly.

I've been on codeine based painkillers pretty much continuously since I was 15. They just used to give me out boxes of 100 every three weeks. It got to the stage where it took more and more to get me high. Its a pretty nice high, to be honest. It doesn't neccessarily kill the pain, but it makes you not care. You get warm and fuzzy, but talkative and happy at the same time. There is a major health problem though. The ones I've gotten have always been with a mix of paracetamol (Tylenol for the yanks). I began regularly overdosing on these pills from about 16 onwards, up to 20 a day of the prescription strength ones. Eventually, I got cut off, when my GP at the time moved to another practise (I called him the drug dealer, I could usually go in and get multiple bottles of valium, amitriptyline, etc without question). I stopped taking them for a while. Then I started taking a lot of the weaker, over the counter versions. I eventually started getting nauseated by pure codeine, and started taking the dihydrocodeine version.

I've stopped and started many times over the years, gone cold turkey, gone back on them, had numerous blood tests, been stuck on drips of Parvalex when I've gone too far - I just never learned. Btw, its a miracle, but my liver function is fine. By the time it came to stopping last time, I was up to between 32-48 a day, 16 at a time. They switched me over to Tramadol, which is less addictive, and I went cold turkey off the rest. I was largely clean until about a month ago, for about 6 months. I'm back on the fuckers again, and I keep taking the Tramadol in 8-10 pill doses, which gets me high too.

Its not as bad as it was, I'm only taking between 6-12 a day, of the OTC ones. But its still bad, I'm still dependent on them, I will still go into withdrawal when I stop taking them. For me its very hard, because I do get genuine episodes of severe pain when I need to take something more than 2 Tramadol. I had about a week of toothache a while back; the nerve was exposed, and it was agony. But then I don't stop. Then I get into the habit of popping 6 or so in the evening, just to chill out, so I feel nice instead of dead on my feet and grouchy.

Bottom line is, I'm still a fucking junkie. I still need to get clean. Next week. From Wednesday on, no painkillers bar prescribed doses. *sigh* This is gonna be fun.

Idiot with money

2005-03-26T12:26:00.000Z

I'm on a pretty healthy income, from state benefits. I have quite a few commitments financially, and some debts I'm paying off, but I should be able to live quite comfortably. Ha ha ha. I think money is still one area of my life where I'm hopelessly impulsive. I went to the supermarket yesterday, via taxi (its damned awkward to get to, and I can't walk that far) and I checked my bank account bef0re I left. I discovered I had 10 quid more than I thought I had. Oooh I thought. Went through the supermarket, bought reasonable things, got a taxi home, and discovered that little expedition had left me with under 4 quid in my wallet. Thats ok, I thought. I get to claim my hospital travel expenses on Monday, and that means I just have to get through tomorrow.

DUH. It was Friday yesterday. Not Saturday. Monday is also a holiday, so I may not be able to claim my travel expenses as planned. Its time to dig through my CDs and find the vaguely cool ones that might be sellable.

Fiddling with Blogger

2005-03-25T18:17:00.000Z

I've been fiddling all day to come up with the title bar bit; its not perfect, but I've done about as much as I can stomach of it today. That must be version 24; I'd forgotten a lot of HTML stuff, and I don't dare install Photoshop on this machine, so I've been using bloody PaintShop Pro, which drives me nuts. Hey Ho. Its about time I brushed up on these kind of skills anyhow; they're probably going to prove useful when I get to University.

Dave Pelzer

2005-03-25T12:09:00.000Z

I've read many a confessional book, or a book on the hardships of abuse, mental illness, drug addiction - and this was possibly the most atrocious of the lot. I was talking to a friend of mine about books, and some of the more awful ones. Dave Pelzer came up. I did a bit of fiddling online, and found that there were 1531 reviews of the first book on amazon.com. I did a backwards sort, and began to read the negative reviews. I had already read a fair portion of the positive reviews, and I was suitably nauseated.

I found that a lot of the positive feedback was completely lacking in any critical evaluation, and that people thought that it was a "great" book. It's badly written, it has no insight into the ways and wherefores of the abuse (as an abuse survivor myself, I can tell you that part of working through it is trying to look at what the specific dysfunctions were of your abusers) and portrayed him as a heroic spirit, with no room for human weaknesses or frailties. It doesn't ring true, and there seems to be very little corroboration. I was absolutely horrified to discover that it has been given out to teenagers as prescribed reading; not only is it completely lacking in literary value, but there are big questions about the accuracy of the content.

I came across many references to an article by Pat Jordan in the New York Times, titled Dysfunction for Dollars. From what I could see, the only way to access the article was to pay for it (not bloody likely). However, if you click on this link and register for free access, you can actually get to the article. Its very interesting, and raises serious questions about the truthfulness of his claims. For example, on the official Dave Pelzer website it is claimed he has been nominated for the Pulitzer prize twice.

...It is true that Dutton submitted two of Pelzer's books to the Pulitzer committee, though that doesn't qualify it as a Pulitzer "nominee.'' The committee receives 800 unsolicited books a year and accepts them all without critical comment. Theoretically, the committee would accept Pelzer's grocery list as long as he filled out the proper forms and paid a $50 fee. These books are called ''entries or submissions.'' Only the final three, short-listed books can truly be called ''Pulitzer Prize nominees,'' and Pelzer's books have never made that list.

It seems that Dave Pelzer is a shameless self publicist, and is making a healthy profit from tales of childhood abuse that may not be true. There are only a few people who ever truly know whether abuse has taken place, and even then it can be open to individual interpretations. One brother denies any such abuse, another has written a best seller confessional about abuse he suffered at the hands of their mother. Chances are, some pretty nasty shit happened to Dave as a child, and it has been embellished and a heroic attitude thrown in to make some money out of it. He is now a motivational speaker.

The whole conundrum reminds me of an episode of Without a Trace where a conman motivational speaker believes his own bullshit, and sets up a fake kidnapping of himself to self publicise. I wonder if the writers of Without a Trace were having a sly dig?

Snobby English

2005-03-24T20:10:00.000Z

I read what I have written, and sometimes I cringe. I cringe when my wording is off, when my punctuation is lacking. I cringe when I realise that I'm arguing something completely different from the intended subject matter. I think this whole exercise will help me tighten up my writing, which can only be a good thing. I need to be more disciplined, and less worried about brevity. I think I'm going to introduce summaries into this blog, and try and Re-jig the formatting, so I don't feel like I've written pages of crap.

I then have to put my writing sins in context; they're not even in the same ballpark as some of the internet's worst offenders. I don't talk in text language, I don't use idiotic abbreviations, I have a relatively good grasp of grammar, sentence construction and spelling. Its absolutely horrible to see, this complete decline in standards of English. I don't think its funny or cool to RiTe likE tHiS, or to write an email with no sentence structure or punctuation. Even my Grandmother, a woman with a classical traditional education, writes the most atrocious emails. Somehow people seem to think that the technology makes the proper use of language obsolete. If I come across a webpage that's badly written, with horrible spelling and lots of "cool" stuff, I pass it by, I can't take it seriously.

Ye gods I'm such a snob.

IVF and the NHS

2005-03-24T18:22:00.000Z

I read the headlines on the BBC, and sometimes write in the "Have Your Say" bit, although I don't think any comment of mine has ever been published (yet). I was reading over this article and these comments with reference to parents undergoing IVF potentially being able to choose the sex of their babies.

I feel pretty strongly about this, to be honest. There are some genetic conditions that are so incredibly devastating to families, that run through one gender. There, I can see the point of gender selection. I once watched a documentary about a couple with a baby boy, who was permanently on a ventilator for his entire life, and was expected to die by the time he was four. He was absolutely dependent on medical interventions for the 4 years, and the heartache the parents went through must have been absolutely unbelievable.

In this country, you can now receive IVF on the NHS. You'll struggle to access the newer medications for schizophrenia, arthritis, pain relief, but you can get IVF. I spent 2 years drugged out of my mind on ancient anti-psychotic (I'm not schizophrenic) because they were cheaper than the newer, less damaging medications. I had to fight to get some of the medications I am on, and the only reason I managed to convince them is because I'm articulate, good at research, and persistent. At what point did that become acceptable? I think IVF is not vital, primary health care, and if the NHS is unable to deliver those things, it should sure as hell not be delivering IVF.

I recently discovered I have a disease that means I will not be able to conceive naturally, without medical intervention, and that the way the clock was ticking, even that was not much of a possibility. My psychiatrist also recommended strongly that pregnancy would be dangerous for me, and that I was at a high risk for post-natal depression and psychosis. I had to re-evaluate my position on IVF and the NHS, and realised that I still felt the same.

Being able to have a child is not a human right; it is a privilege. Some of us are naturally not privileged. Children are not held in high enough regard in this country, and throughout the world. There are thousands of children who need love, attention, family, stability and parents who have already been born. These children need homes, and are already here. As for choosing the sex of your child for non-medical reasons, I think that is absolutely abhorrent - a child is a human being regardless of gender, and is not there to fulfill your expectations, and will not be what you want him or her to be. A child is not a doll for you to dress up in "gender appropriate" clothing. People disgust me sometimes.

Bloody PSU

2005-03-24T18:00:00.000Z

I've been aching to write recently; which is unusual for me. I was merrily pissing about on the computer on Tuesday, and the PSU blew up. I had to take it into the shop (fortunately the PSU was still under warranty) and get it replaced, so I only got my baby back today. Its a baby I'm begining to hate with a vengance - its been playing silly buggers since Christmas.

Creole Chicken

2005-03-21T21:50:00.000Z

Note to self: Do NOT eat dinner at 930pm. Do NOT cook something with oodles of chilli in it when you have IBS and your stomach is being obnoxious.

Event #1 in Month of Hell

2005-03-21T20:04:00.000Z

Now I've set this up, I've got an overwhelming desire to write stuff. I suppose this is as good a place to start as any. This whole bombsite of a month started with a phonecall. I was in a bit of a hyper mood, and I decided to phone my... Well, that's complicated to start with... Mothers girlfriend to ask about having my 13 year old brother to stay for a night. She sounded rather flustered, and said she was about to call me. Apparently my father had been sniffing around, looking for my phone number. This was not welcome news. Long story short, he called, and my grandmother had died a few days before. He decided to be delightful and hijack this news with the inquisition about where I was and what I was doing.

I was angry. Punching holes in the walls angry. It had been 4 years since I'd heard a peep out of him, at which time he was disapproving of my admission to the local nuthouse. They had to sedate me when he left.

I went to the funeral, but not the wake. I managed to get away with minimal contact, although his turn at the altar pontificating about my grandmothers wonderful parenting skills that she'd passed on to him was more than a little nauseating. I was pretty much numb, it was like I wasn't really there, not really present, through the whole following week. The BFFH (best friend from hell) accompanied me to the funeral, but wasn't entirely present around that week either.

I was just faced with all the old shit from the no parents deal. My mother died when I was 15, and my father, well, he might as well be dead too. I'd "radically accepted" all of it, but the whole thing just threw it in my face again. One good thing I realised though. If it took his mothers death to contact me, and to contact me in a non-conciliatory tone, then I wasn't likely to here from the non-Dad again, which gives me comfort, I have to say.

I just have an urge to document all of this, to remind myself why I'm making these changes, why I'm being so uncharacteristically motivated and positive about the future. The last month has been a hallmark, a hallmark of endurance, almost.

I can do this, I can live a life that is about more than survival.

The First One

2005-03-21T18:55:00.000Z

I have seen many blogs online; some are a truly terrible waste of webspace, and yet there are others that are incredible to me. Filled with beauty and creativity, information and wit; I've yearned to have the courage to begin to build one of my own, in the hope that it falls close to the second category, and not the first.

A lot of this is probably going to end up with self-absorbed navel gazing; I tend to be rather guilty of that. I don't think that my introspection is necessarily a bad thing though; I learn from it, and I hope that some people can learn from my learning. I have to avoid the temptation of adding "if that makes sense" or "do you know what I mean?" on the end of every sentence; it does me no favours, and it takes the power away from words.

Right now, this week, is a new beginning for me. I'll probably explain a little later, but the last month has been traumatic (even by my standards) and I have come to a point where things simply have to change. For the better. My worst fears have come to be, in the last month. What has been suprising is that they were simply not as bad as I thought they would be, and I have and will continue to thrive.

More on that later.