In my diary, I mean. I'm more or less content with the layout, and although I am still thinking of renaming the diary "Been down so long it looks like up to me", it occurs to me I will have no reason to link people to a poem by Pablo Neruda if I did that -- and I always think people need to read more poetry.
I was looking over my links page, and I was prompted to remove the link to 'Bang' magazine that I described as Britain's newest rock n' roll magazine. Since I created the link the magazine has gone belly-up, and although the website is still there it seems sort of pointless to link to it any more. There's other things I want to change, too -- like adding a link to the comic Chopping Block, and doing something about the required reading list.
Something about the list bugs me.
It's not the people that appear on it, so much as knowing how often to update it and if I should keep such a list at all. It seems a little unfair that I have this list of people I deem worthy of reading, and what of all the people I read who aren't on the list? What of the people who are on my favourite journals list one week and not the next? I know I'd be hurt to see my name left off a list, or removed from a list like this. But at the same time, I want to show off these cool people and their wonderful diaries -- and since my since the response form just emails me the responses there's no way for anyone else to know who's reading.
I'm not sure what I'll do. I don't want a list full of diaries of cool people alongside people I read for a while but stopped visiting, for whatever reason, but I don't want a small and elitist list of only the few people I deem worthy of a specific link.
Never let it be said that I concentrate on details in my life and miss the bigger picture... because it would be true.
Sunday, 22 February 2004
Friday, 20 February 2004
Be a good dog
My doctor doesn't believe that I should read anything into dreaming about suicide. Nor was she particular concerned it seems that I cut myself the other day. She's renewed my prescription, saying that I seem obviously better but the effect of the medication builds up over time and I have clearly been down for some time. I bit my tongue to keep from telling her I've been down so long it looks like up to me. When I next see my counsellor I will see what he has to say about a depressed person's dreams of suicide.
This morning I was tidying my room. It has been forever since I tidied, it has become a nightmarish vision of a world where I don't pick up after myself. But my parents are due to visit this weekend, so I had to tidy up. As I was tidying I found a packet of pain killers that the hopsital gave me. I sat on the floor and just stared at the packet of tablets in my hands. I had to shake my head to get rid of the idea that I could swallow of what was remaining and that it would be preferable to sitting exams. There was only about 10 left in the packet anyway, which wouldn't have been enough -- but that wasn't the point.
I am feeling better, this I know. Unfortunately the medication has also meant that my libido seems to have disappeared entirely. So it seems that when I am very depressed I have no libido, but if I don't want to be depressed then I have to take pills which also affect that. Between us, I haven't noticed any negative effects in the actual performance in that side of things -- I just don't much feel like it these days.
Due to excessive amounts of spam I have abandoned -- or am in the process of abandoning -- my email address. I don't mean my diary-x address, instead the email address it forwards on to. Nobody should notice any real change in service, except that I am considering taking off response-o-matic. Unlike before where I was getting obsessed with constantly checking my diary for new comments and feeling inadequate if nobody left any comments, with response-o-matic I have been much better. However, there have been complaints about how it requires you to enter your name and email address -- along with your homepage now. I don't like anonymous comments, or not be able to respond to comments, and so I reallyt didn't think this was that much of a big deal. But apparently it is uber-annoying, and since I'm not really bothered about having a specific comments feature I might just get rid of it.
I need to be leaving here in a few minutes if I want to get to the pool any time soon. I also need to pick up my prescription. Both of these things are necessary today because I can feel my mood starting to fray.
It's complicated. I don't know if the medicated me is really me, or if the depressed and self destructive person is really me. I feel like the medicated side is more who I really am, and allows me to actually live and not feel angry and depressed and destructive all the time. But it's possible that I'm just running from it, or just being a good dog and taking the medication to be a kind of person society can deal with.
Maybe I should just find myself a Buddhist monastery and not come back. Conversely, I posted off the "please send me more information" forms to the Air Force today.
This morning I was tidying my room. It has been forever since I tidied, it has become a nightmarish vision of a world where I don't pick up after myself. But my parents are due to visit this weekend, so I had to tidy up. As I was tidying I found a packet of pain killers that the hopsital gave me. I sat on the floor and just stared at the packet of tablets in my hands. I had to shake my head to get rid of the idea that I could swallow of what was remaining and that it would be preferable to sitting exams. There was only about 10 left in the packet anyway, which wouldn't have been enough -- but that wasn't the point.
I am feeling better, this I know. Unfortunately the medication has also meant that my libido seems to have disappeared entirely. So it seems that when I am very depressed I have no libido, but if I don't want to be depressed then I have to take pills which also affect that. Between us, I haven't noticed any negative effects in the actual performance in that side of things -- I just don't much feel like it these days.
Due to excessive amounts of spam I have abandoned -- or am in the process of abandoning -- my email address. I don't mean my diary-x address, instead the email address it forwards on to. Nobody should notice any real change in service, except that I am considering taking off response-o-matic. Unlike before where I was getting obsessed with constantly checking my diary for new comments and feeling inadequate if nobody left any comments, with response-o-matic I have been much better. However, there have been complaints about how it requires you to enter your name and email address -- along with your homepage now. I don't like anonymous comments, or not be able to respond to comments, and so I reallyt didn't think this was that much of a big deal. But apparently it is uber-annoying, and since I'm not really bothered about having a specific comments feature I might just get rid of it.
I need to be leaving here in a few minutes if I want to get to the pool any time soon. I also need to pick up my prescription. Both of these things are necessary today because I can feel my mood starting to fray.
It's complicated. I don't know if the medicated me is really me, or if the depressed and self destructive person is really me. I feel like the medicated side is more who I really am, and allows me to actually live and not feel angry and depressed and destructive all the time. But it's possible that I'm just running from it, or just being a good dog and taking the medication to be a kind of person society can deal with.
Maybe I should just find myself a Buddhist monastery and not come back. Conversely, I posted off the "please send me more information" forms to the Air Force today.
Sunday, 15 February 2004
I can feel the flames
It occurs to me I exist as contradictions.
Somehow that first line reminds me of a Pablo Neruda poem "It happens I am tired of being a man". It's probably just me that makes such a connection. I want to start reading more poetry though, I like how it affects my thoughts and my writing. I need to read more altogether. I love the feeling of being stimulated and lying awake at night wondering about the man from Porlock and what have you. I doubt that will mean much to anyone, but this is a preamble anyway.
The point was, contradictions.
I came here originally intending to write something like maybe it's the meds I'm on, but I actually feel okay with myself and with the world and so on. Not like fully okay, but on the scale of 1 to 10 that my irritating counsellor likes to make to get me to pin down feelings and thoughts, I'd have moved up a place or two.
And the thing is, I do feel like that. I want to do stuff -- like rock climb, and swim, and chase stories and write poetry (if I had any inspiration) and even paint, if I ever get around to it. I even find myself looking at watercolour paintbrushes to buy. The morning might be a different story, but right now that's how I describe my general feeling.
Which is good, right?
It would be, but while that is true I suddenly remember that I cut myself yesterday. It's not worth going into, it was a largely trivial chain of events and miscommunication -- but I felt like cutting myself, so I did. And last night, despite things being resolved and what have you, I still dreamed of suicide.
Last night I dreamed that I tried to burn myself alive.
I have never considered this idea for suicide -- and believe me, when I'm in one of my moods although I might not intend to hurt myself the various ways that I could do are explored in my head. I haven't once ever had the idea like I saw in my dream, where I set fire to a room around me so that I would have no way of escaping. I felt the flames burn me, although I think in the dream I changed my mind and I possibly somehow put out the flames.
The images and the feelings have stayed with me all day. Not feelings of wanting to hurt myself, but the feelings I felt in the dream, and I can almost feel the sensation of the fire on my skin again.
So that's how I mean. I feel more alive and wanting to engage in society and be active. Maybe not content or happy quite yet, but definitely with a certain kind of serenity and heading that way. But at the same time, I can take a pair of scissors to my own skin -- even if with the circumstances and position and whatever I managed little more than a slightly bloody scratch, and I can have vivid dreams of voluntarily burning myself alive.
I'm going to go do something offline now, or else I will dwell on these thoughts which would be a bad thing before sleep.
Somehow that first line reminds me of a Pablo Neruda poem "It happens I am tired of being a man". It's probably just me that makes such a connection. I want to start reading more poetry though, I like how it affects my thoughts and my writing. I need to read more altogether. I love the feeling of being stimulated and lying awake at night wondering about the man from Porlock and what have you. I doubt that will mean much to anyone, but this is a preamble anyway.
The point was, contradictions.
I came here originally intending to write something like maybe it's the meds I'm on, but I actually feel okay with myself and with the world and so on. Not like fully okay, but on the scale of 1 to 10 that my irritating counsellor likes to make to get me to pin down feelings and thoughts, I'd have moved up a place or two.
And the thing is, I do feel like that. I want to do stuff -- like rock climb, and swim, and chase stories and write poetry (if I had any inspiration) and even paint, if I ever get around to it. I even find myself looking at watercolour paintbrushes to buy. The morning might be a different story, but right now that's how I describe my general feeling.
Which is good, right?
It would be, but while that is true I suddenly remember that I cut myself yesterday. It's not worth going into, it was a largely trivial chain of events and miscommunication -- but I felt like cutting myself, so I did. And last night, despite things being resolved and what have you, I still dreamed of suicide.
Last night I dreamed that I tried to burn myself alive.
I have never considered this idea for suicide -- and believe me, when I'm in one of my moods although I might not intend to hurt myself the various ways that I could do are explored in my head. I haven't once ever had the idea like I saw in my dream, where I set fire to a room around me so that I would have no way of escaping. I felt the flames burn me, although I think in the dream I changed my mind and I possibly somehow put out the flames.
The images and the feelings have stayed with me all day. Not feelings of wanting to hurt myself, but the feelings I felt in the dream, and I can almost feel the sensation of the fire on my skin again.
So that's how I mean. I feel more alive and wanting to engage in society and be active. Maybe not content or happy quite yet, but definitely with a certain kind of serenity and heading that way. But at the same time, I can take a pair of scissors to my own skin -- even if with the circumstances and position and whatever I managed little more than a slightly bloody scratch, and I can have vivid dreams of voluntarily burning myself alive.
I'm going to go do something offline now, or else I will dwell on these thoughts which would be a bad thing before sleep.
Thursday, 12 February 2004
A time of change
I went out with the intention of going swimming. For some reason Leicester doesn't have a pool in the city centre. My chiropractor (should that be ex-chiropractor, since I only saw him like 3 or 4 times?) told me the council knocked it down to build a car park, and never replaced it.
Anyway. On the edge of where I do my district reporting I knew there was a health and fitness club, and since I bought an all day bus ticket this morning when I was out chasing news I just headed back there this afternoon.
Of course, you can't use the pool if you aren't a member. But I didn't want to be denied my chance to go swimming, so I joined. I filled out the forms, and had a vaguely annoying but kind of cute chick show me about the place while I made non-commital comments about it all.
It's a nice place and still very new. It's more modern than any other place I've been to. The weight room was full of scary guys, but that's fine since I don't ever intend to go in there. The room with the cardiovascular equipment had about five different music channels showing on the tvs, and was less scary, so I might go in there. The pool was big enough for my liking, and had an added bonus of sauna, steam room and two hot tubs.
Okay, so all I really wanted was a decent sized pool so I could swim lengths every day for an hour or so. But the other stuff is good, too. Is it £50 a month good? I don't see why not. Was it worth the £90 I paid for joining fee, deposit, and the remainder of this month's use? It is if I damn well tell myself that it is.
This is part of my quest for emotional (or mental) stability. I take anti-depressants every day, see a counsellor every week, have cut caffeine out of my diet as an experiment, am cutting down my drinking to weekends only (though that is also an attempt to tone up) and now will be swimming daily. I'm thinking I would like to join a climbing group, I like the idea of rock climbing -- even if it would only be indoors on a wall.
I can't say I feel a whole lot better yet. Thoughts of self harm or worse are almost second nature to me, even when I am not particularly unhappy. I find myself considering how I could step out in front of a bus and nobody would suspect it was anything other than an accident. But I don't do it. And I don't harm myself. And I try to keep getting up each morning.
One of these days I will work out what I want to do with my life. I actually applied for the air force to send me an information pack. Non-violent me. Anti-war me. I haven't changed my opinions on any of that either, I just figured it could there could be some interesting career options. And there's always the option I could get to be an astronaut...
Anyway. On the edge of where I do my district reporting I knew there was a health and fitness club, and since I bought an all day bus ticket this morning when I was out chasing news I just headed back there this afternoon.
Of course, you can't use the pool if you aren't a member. But I didn't want to be denied my chance to go swimming, so I joined. I filled out the forms, and had a vaguely annoying but kind of cute chick show me about the place while I made non-commital comments about it all.
It's a nice place and still very new. It's more modern than any other place I've been to. The weight room was full of scary guys, but that's fine since I don't ever intend to go in there. The room with the cardiovascular equipment had about five different music channels showing on the tvs, and was less scary, so I might go in there. The pool was big enough for my liking, and had an added bonus of sauna, steam room and two hot tubs.
Okay, so all I really wanted was a decent sized pool so I could swim lengths every day for an hour or so. But the other stuff is good, too. Is it £50 a month good? I don't see why not. Was it worth the £90 I paid for joining fee, deposit, and the remainder of this month's use? It is if I damn well tell myself that it is.
This is part of my quest for emotional (or mental) stability. I take anti-depressants every day, see a counsellor every week, have cut caffeine out of my diet as an experiment, am cutting down my drinking to weekends only (though that is also an attempt to tone up) and now will be swimming daily. I'm thinking I would like to join a climbing group, I like the idea of rock climbing -- even if it would only be indoors on a wall.
I can't say I feel a whole lot better yet. Thoughts of self harm or worse are almost second nature to me, even when I am not particularly unhappy. I find myself considering how I could step out in front of a bus and nobody would suspect it was anything other than an accident. But I don't do it. And I don't harm myself. And I try to keep getting up each morning.
One of these days I will work out what I want to do with my life. I actually applied for the air force to send me an information pack. Non-violent me. Anti-war me. I haven't changed my opinions on any of that either, I just figured it could there could be some interesting career options. And there's always the option I could get to be an astronaut...
Friday, 6 February 2004
wonky(like a donkey with three legs)
It's been too long, and I apologise profusely and sincerely. It has just been...well, you know how it is.
So I spent the past week with metal brackets on my teeth and elastic bands effectively holding my mouth shut, and I got used to it very quickly. Today I went back to the hospital and they said it's not working. They said they wanted to cut my face open and put metal plates in my jaw, then wire it shut. The seemed to want me to be able to sit there and say "Oh okay then, go right ahead." or "No, I think I will give it a miss". They didn't seem impressed that i said I would need some time to think about. Suddenly when it's their time everything needs to be done right away -- when it's my jaw that they're taking their time deciding about fixing they can misplace x-rays and idle for days or weeks on end.
Anyway. I have since thought it over, and I say it's not going to happen. If I had a job and could get paid leave or something that might be a different matter. But I don't. I can't afford any time off my course (although it has been suggested to me I could defer for a year...) and if I wasn't studying I would have to be working which obviously I wouldn't be able to do. So I weigh up the other options. My jaw is, for want of a better word, wonky. My teeth don't meet and it's not aligned as it should be. The chances are though how it is now is how it's going to set, and stay. And you know what? It was wonky before all of this happened. My teeth have never met in the middle. It doesn't really my life and the only hassle right now is not being able to eat normally -- which is because of the fracture, not the alignment itself.
There is also a risk that they could damage a certain nerve leaving me with a permanently drooping lower lip.
Call me vain if you like, but no way. I have self esteem issues as it is -- I don't need something like that in my life. So I won't be seeing what's behind the door. Sure, it could be a car, or a lady with a tiger. But I will leave with my wonky jaw, thanks all the same.
So I spent the past week with metal brackets on my teeth and elastic bands effectively holding my mouth shut, and I got used to it very quickly. Today I went back to the hospital and they said it's not working. They said they wanted to cut my face open and put metal plates in my jaw, then wire it shut. The seemed to want me to be able to sit there and say "Oh okay then, go right ahead." or "No, I think I will give it a miss". They didn't seem impressed that i said I would need some time to think about. Suddenly when it's their time everything needs to be done right away -- when it's my jaw that they're taking their time deciding about fixing they can misplace x-rays and idle for days or weeks on end.
Anyway. I have since thought it over, and I say it's not going to happen. If I had a job and could get paid leave or something that might be a different matter. But I don't. I can't afford any time off my course (although it has been suggested to me I could defer for a year...) and if I wasn't studying I would have to be working which obviously I wouldn't be able to do. So I weigh up the other options. My jaw is, for want of a better word, wonky. My teeth don't meet and it's not aligned as it should be. The chances are though how it is now is how it's going to set, and stay. And you know what? It was wonky before all of this happened. My teeth have never met in the middle. It doesn't really my life and the only hassle right now is not being able to eat normally -- which is because of the fracture, not the alignment itself.
There is also a risk that they could damage a certain nerve leaving me with a permanently drooping lower lip.
Call me vain if you like, but no way. I have self esteem issues as it is -- I don't need something like that in my life. So I won't be seeing what's behind the door. Sure, it could be a car, or a lady with a tiger. But I will leave with my wonky jaw, thanks all the same.
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