The exam results came out today, posted online.
When i arrived to the pharmacology practical everyone had checked and there were no sad faces, thank goodness. I asked if everyone had passed and they had. I specifically asked if everyone had passed as the sharing of results can be turn into a passive aggressive blag fest if the wrong people are present. I wasn't even tempted to check my results, there and then, in front of everyone. If they had been bad it would have been dreadful, i would have broken down in tears in front of my entire PBL group and 4 others, like another girl did after foolishly checking hers. I felt for her, i really did.
I got a satisfactory in the semester 1 test and an honors in the progress test. All others i know passed in various other ways. I am so pleased, when walking out the lab i couldn't stop smiling the widest smile i'd smiled in the past week. It was most definately a stoner smile. I had my grin right on.
It's such a relief, it's as if i've been given a pat on the shoulder, i've been told; "Yes, it's alright. You are good enough to be here." I think everything now seems a lot easier, i feel as though the first thought i ever had when i came here; 'you're not good enough, you don't belong' has been well and truly eradicated. I feel i am well on my way to being a Doctor. I feel now i have [i would have said paper but, we are in the 21st century] online proof that the self belief i derived from somewhere deep inside myself is justified.
I feel as though my boots have reinforced steel heels that will never wear down.
Saturday, 28 February 2009
Thursday, 26 February 2009
Mentoring
Today i met with the person who has been allocated the duty of mentoring me.
I find it so hard to write now, but i've no idea why. It's like the thoughts just don't flow as easily from my brain..it's as though i have to stop and think, pause, to write what i want. And it completely ruins the rhythm as when i stop to think i get bored [blessed with a very short attention span which i utilise to its maximum potential during periods of relaxation] and end up doing some other form of online activity, usually, inevitably, facebook.
It is becoming rather an irritating factor, an obstacle to blogging. I have no problem writing inane boring bollocks which has no bearing in reality, so perhaps the problem is not that i am unable to write, that i have writers block [if such a phrase can even be applied to a situation in which i write soley about and for myself] but that i can not express fully what is happening in my life. Or, perhaps, that on a subliminal level, i don't want to.
As i have already realised [be patient, i am young] writing about something makes it real, in the same way talking does..writing is just perhaps a more direct way of addressing issues within your life. Perhaps i find it difficult to write about what i've been doing because i want it to remain in a world without critical analysis, which is inevitably what will occur if it discussed here.
When asked, during our hour long conversation, by my [a significant usage of a possesive descriptor] Mentor, what i thought about the whole thing that is happening with ND i became fidgety and spoke about not wanting to think about things, to analyse things. Because if you analyse them they become real, and you are no longer in a warm, secure bubble in which anything beautiful and fantastic can happen. You're in the cold harsh reality of the 'Real World' in which bad things happen, people get raped and murdered and you can be so, so sad.
I suppose what i'm thinking is that blogging has always been, for me, a release of very negative feelings of self hatred and extreme sadness and now that perhaps i'm not sad, or let me phrase that better, perhaps now i'm happy, a rather large element of the release that i used to gain from bloggging has been removed.
I knew that when i made the resolution to re-start, well, i knew i was happier but that some things in my life still caused me much pain, and maybe re-starting was directed at adressing those issues in some form of tangible form. Now..i still need to get my Fathers adress, but i have written a very angry, very..well, the letter was designed to make him cry. So, if there is a word for that, then that is the word i choose. But along with it i will send the story i wrote, about Fairies and understanding. So it's not just going to be BAM in your face you cunt for a face yellow belly, it's going to be BAM in your face you cunt faced yellow belly cry and have this story to let your tears drip onto.
The meeting with my Mentor felt slightly futile, for the first half an hour we went around in circles discussing confidentiality and didn't really get to a concrete conclusion as to when or under what circustances it would be broken..she asked if i could just accept that there perhaps wouldn't be one..she essentially asked me to trust her. I sat there and thought about it, for going on 10 seconds, which is a long lapse in conversation. Eventually i said yes, as i knew that if i didn't that would be the end, there would be no point in continuing. She said something, confirming what i said i presume [as my memory fails here] and i replied "Well, it's either that or i walk out the door." It sounds harsh but i don't think the tone in which i said it was, it was rather a statement of the thought process i had used to come to the conclusion that i did. An explaination.
I suppose it was a good meeting, it was functional, and went as well as first meetings can.
ND is now in Italy, i am joining him on Tuesday. I'm quite looking forward to it actually. It's going to certainly be an adventure.
There was a woman flyering outside the Union who i thought looked very interesting as i observed her from the safety of the cash point. She had a massive stack, at least 20cm tall, of flyers for a night which i plan on going to, hosted by the same people who did a night at the same place in January which was amazing. Seriously, mind blowingly, amazing. So i went over, and asked if there were any early bird tickets left, as they are only £15. The details are slightly fuzzy but in the end, i walked away with her number and she had mine to text me about early bird tickets. I didn't need hers, but somehow i'd got it..and also sensed a vibe of attraction. Obviously i'd spoken to her because i thought she was fit, but i didn't know if she'd think the same. On the off chance, and given that i'd somehow got her number, i thought i'd ask if she wanted to go for lunch or something at the weekend. So i did. She replied saying she was going to spain but that she'd definately want to after she returned.
How brilliant.
I asked someone out. I feel well proud of myself. She's a bit short though, as in, 5 foot 2 short. 10 inches shorter than me. And, the icing on the cake, she said yes.
I find it so hard to write now, but i've no idea why. It's like the thoughts just don't flow as easily from my brain..it's as though i have to stop and think, pause, to write what i want. And it completely ruins the rhythm as when i stop to think i get bored [blessed with a very short attention span which i utilise to its maximum potential during periods of relaxation] and end up doing some other form of online activity, usually, inevitably, facebook.
It is becoming rather an irritating factor, an obstacle to blogging. I have no problem writing inane boring bollocks which has no bearing in reality, so perhaps the problem is not that i am unable to write, that i have writers block [if such a phrase can even be applied to a situation in which i write soley about and for myself] but that i can not express fully what is happening in my life. Or, perhaps, that on a subliminal level, i don't want to.
As i have already realised [be patient, i am young] writing about something makes it real, in the same way talking does..writing is just perhaps a more direct way of addressing issues within your life. Perhaps i find it difficult to write about what i've been doing because i want it to remain in a world without critical analysis, which is inevitably what will occur if it discussed here.
When asked, during our hour long conversation, by my [a significant usage of a possesive descriptor] Mentor, what i thought about the whole thing that is happening with ND i became fidgety and spoke about not wanting to think about things, to analyse things. Because if you analyse them they become real, and you are no longer in a warm, secure bubble in which anything beautiful and fantastic can happen. You're in the cold harsh reality of the 'Real World' in which bad things happen, people get raped and murdered and you can be so, so sad.
I suppose what i'm thinking is that blogging has always been, for me, a release of very negative feelings of self hatred and extreme sadness and now that perhaps i'm not sad, or let me phrase that better, perhaps now i'm happy, a rather large element of the release that i used to gain from bloggging has been removed.
I knew that when i made the resolution to re-start, well, i knew i was happier but that some things in my life still caused me much pain, and maybe re-starting was directed at adressing those issues in some form of tangible form. Now..i still need to get my Fathers adress, but i have written a very angry, very..well, the letter was designed to make him cry. So, if there is a word for that, then that is the word i choose. But along with it i will send the story i wrote, about Fairies and understanding. So it's not just going to be BAM in your face you cunt for a face yellow belly, it's going to be BAM in your face you cunt faced yellow belly cry and have this story to let your tears drip onto.
The meeting with my Mentor felt slightly futile, for the first half an hour we went around in circles discussing confidentiality and didn't really get to a concrete conclusion as to when or under what circustances it would be broken..she asked if i could just accept that there perhaps wouldn't be one..she essentially asked me to trust her. I sat there and thought about it, for going on 10 seconds, which is a long lapse in conversation. Eventually i said yes, as i knew that if i didn't that would be the end, there would be no point in continuing. She said something, confirming what i said i presume [as my memory fails here] and i replied "Well, it's either that or i walk out the door." It sounds harsh but i don't think the tone in which i said it was, it was rather a statement of the thought process i had used to come to the conclusion that i did. An explaination.
I suppose it was a good meeting, it was functional, and went as well as first meetings can.
ND is now in Italy, i am joining him on Tuesday. I'm quite looking forward to it actually. It's going to certainly be an adventure.
There was a woman flyering outside the Union who i thought looked very interesting as i observed her from the safety of the cash point. She had a massive stack, at least 20cm tall, of flyers for a night which i plan on going to, hosted by the same people who did a night at the same place in January which was amazing. Seriously, mind blowingly, amazing. So i went over, and asked if there were any early bird tickets left, as they are only £15. The details are slightly fuzzy but in the end, i walked away with her number and she had mine to text me about early bird tickets. I didn't need hers, but somehow i'd got it..and also sensed a vibe of attraction. Obviously i'd spoken to her because i thought she was fit, but i didn't know if she'd think the same. On the off chance, and given that i'd somehow got her number, i thought i'd ask if she wanted to go for lunch or something at the weekend. So i did. She replied saying she was going to spain but that she'd definately want to after she returned.
How brilliant.
I asked someone out. I feel well proud of myself. She's a bit short though, as in, 5 foot 2 short. 10 inches shorter than me. And, the icing on the cake, she said yes.
I Renounce My Faith In The Catholic Church..
As it's Ash Wednesday and there was a massive poster outside the Catholic Chaplincy [think; side of a bus] that is opposite the Students Union i thought i'd go to mass. It was perhaps half full, not a bad turnout for an evening mass on a wednesday. That said, this Church is basically a Cathedral. Actually, it probably is a Cathedral, it is fucking awesomly huge inside.
After i came out, instead of feeling rejuvinated and ready to start lent with a BANG i felt strange, i didn't feel like my usual self, and in hindsight i now know that feeling manifested itself as irritibility but deep down was probably sadness, which i didn't [very cleverly, although subliminaly so i don't know how much credit is due] allow myself to feel. I came back and i used the word 'irritating' perhaps half a dozen times. I couldn't look in the mirror without hating my reflection. I probably looked like a depressed loser sitting in the kebab shop on my own waiting for my veggie burger and chips and i wasn't even nice to the guy who served me. I was a sour faced bitch. Then 3 friends came into the kebab shop as they'd saw me in there, alone [probably giving the window death stares] and i couldn't bring myself to make conversation, it seemed like simply stringing words together to make a scentance was the hardest possible thing you could have asked me to do at that moment; even harder than walking a tightrope suspended over a lake infested with man eating crockodiles.
The Catholic Guilt Complex is not unknown. When i saw seeing Raffaella she mentioned to me the whole Catholic guilt complex but i blew it off as nothing. Now i see what she meant. I felt guilty, when i was younger, for everything, i felt guilty even for being alive, let alone for who i was and what i represented. I've been educated in Catholic schools my whole life, save several years in a C of E primary school [the Catholic one was, aparently, full] and now i've been away from it for a while i've had the opportunity to realise what non-catholic life is like. It's not normal to have a crucifix hanging in every class room, just above the white board. To remind you, just in case you forgot, that Jesus is watching you.
I can't do it anymore; listening to the responses and what you have to repeat is ridiculous; i can't and won't partake in not so literal, but still equally as painful, self flaggelation. I did that for years, sadly, years. And i'm not doing it anymore; there will be no more hatred for myself, no more self harm [although that did stop a while ago] and no more self doubt. All i want to do is spread love, peace and happiness throughout the word. I don't want to have to endure the hurrendous never ending cycle of self hate, forgiveness, and more self hate [because, as you all know, we are, aparently, worthless..hence; 'lord i am not worthy to recieve you, but only say the word and i shall be healed'] because i enjoy life more when i love myself.
I'm not that awful a person.
After i came out, instead of feeling rejuvinated and ready to start lent with a BANG i felt strange, i didn't feel like my usual self, and in hindsight i now know that feeling manifested itself as irritibility but deep down was probably sadness, which i didn't [very cleverly, although subliminaly so i don't know how much credit is due] allow myself to feel. I came back and i used the word 'irritating' perhaps half a dozen times. I couldn't look in the mirror without hating my reflection. I probably looked like a depressed loser sitting in the kebab shop on my own waiting for my veggie burger and chips and i wasn't even nice to the guy who served me. I was a sour faced bitch. Then 3 friends came into the kebab shop as they'd saw me in there, alone [probably giving the window death stares] and i couldn't bring myself to make conversation, it seemed like simply stringing words together to make a scentance was the hardest possible thing you could have asked me to do at that moment; even harder than walking a tightrope suspended over a lake infested with man eating crockodiles.
The Catholic Guilt Complex is not unknown. When i saw seeing Raffaella she mentioned to me the whole Catholic guilt complex but i blew it off as nothing. Now i see what she meant. I felt guilty, when i was younger, for everything, i felt guilty even for being alive, let alone for who i was and what i represented. I've been educated in Catholic schools my whole life, save several years in a C of E primary school [the Catholic one was, aparently, full] and now i've been away from it for a while i've had the opportunity to realise what non-catholic life is like. It's not normal to have a crucifix hanging in every class room, just above the white board. To remind you, just in case you forgot, that Jesus is watching you.
I can't do it anymore; listening to the responses and what you have to repeat is ridiculous; i can't and won't partake in not so literal, but still equally as painful, self flaggelation. I did that for years, sadly, years. And i'm not doing it anymore; there will be no more hatred for myself, no more self harm [although that did stop a while ago] and no more self doubt. All i want to do is spread love, peace and happiness throughout the word. I don't want to have to endure the hurrendous never ending cycle of self hate, forgiveness, and more self hate [because, as you all know, we are, aparently, worthless..hence; 'lord i am not worthy to recieve you, but only say the word and i shall be healed'] because i enjoy life more when i love myself.
I'm not that awful a person.
Monday, 23 February 2009
Mediums..
Writing was the one medium that helped me infinitely when i was very messed up. It might be because i'm not writing regularly enough, or because i'm not being honest with what i'm writing, or maybe because i'm not putting the effort in that is required to fully undergo the catharsis..
Because that is what helps, the catharsis, thinking things through slowly and methodically and then coming to a balanced conclusion as to the thoughts that were previously swilling around my head in no true or tangible order. That is what i need. And that can be sought through conversation, very, admittedly once sided conversation, but conversation none the less. But writing is what i have resolved to do, so i will. I will allocate time to write, each and every day. Because it is good for me.
What am i currently feeling?
A bit blue. In the case last week there were two types of patient who suffered from COPD, 'blue bloaters' and 'pink puffers.' A blue bloater is someone who..let me remember..aka let me read the wikipeadia article..a blue bloater is someone who is cyanosed ie. has a high carbon dioxide concentration in their blood due to the fact that they are hypoventilating and so therefore unable to expire the adequate volumes of carbon dioxide. That, is exactly what i mean.
Even here there is avoidance, i feel as though my course is crushing me with information and learning objectives and standards. Friday is results day. I've not thought about it yet and probably won't until Thursday evening. It's best this way, there's no point crying over spilt milk and all that jazz.
I cried today, because i felt sad inside. It was whilst writing a text to ND, i was just about to type 'you make me smile' and then i just started crying. He does make me smile though. But i felt so sad. I don't know why i feel sad, i don't feel so sad anymore..i just feel sometimes like i can't connect with anyone on a real level; where i can actually talk to them about things that matter. It's almost as if the conversation always manages to float over superfilous issues again and again and never really touches the ground; the cement that holds us all together. It's always..empty. Void of all real human contact. It drains me.
After the love and the passion within a relationship, all that is left is tears. Tears tears everywhere and plenty more to spare. Tears and a toothbrush, for good measure.
Because that is what helps, the catharsis, thinking things through slowly and methodically and then coming to a balanced conclusion as to the thoughts that were previously swilling around my head in no true or tangible order. That is what i need. And that can be sought through conversation, very, admittedly once sided conversation, but conversation none the less. But writing is what i have resolved to do, so i will. I will allocate time to write, each and every day. Because it is good for me.
What am i currently feeling?
A bit blue. In the case last week there were two types of patient who suffered from COPD, 'blue bloaters' and 'pink puffers.' A blue bloater is someone who..let me remember..aka let me read the wikipeadia article..a blue bloater is someone who is cyanosed ie. has a high carbon dioxide concentration in their blood due to the fact that they are hypoventilating and so therefore unable to expire the adequate volumes of carbon dioxide. That, is exactly what i mean.
Even here there is avoidance, i feel as though my course is crushing me with information and learning objectives and standards. Friday is results day. I've not thought about it yet and probably won't until Thursday evening. It's best this way, there's no point crying over spilt milk and all that jazz.
I cried today, because i felt sad inside. It was whilst writing a text to ND, i was just about to type 'you make me smile' and then i just started crying. He does make me smile though. But i felt so sad. I don't know why i feel sad, i don't feel so sad anymore..i just feel sometimes like i can't connect with anyone on a real level; where i can actually talk to them about things that matter. It's almost as if the conversation always manages to float over superfilous issues again and again and never really touches the ground; the cement that holds us all together. It's always..empty. Void of all real human contact. It drains me.
After the love and the passion within a relationship, all that is left is tears. Tears tears everywhere and plenty more to spare. Tears and a toothbrush, for good measure.
Friday, 20 February 2009
PTSD
PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, is a condition which many world war and Vietnam veterans developed after seeing the atrocities of war.
I was at a Medics Curry last night. I met ND for lunch and to book the flights [which i've still not made up my mind in regards to] and then went searching for a friends flat but, alas, i couldn't find it. So i trekked from the city suburbs right back up to the centre [where i live] to have a shower. I needed a shower. I now understand why people take showers in movies are having sex, not that we had sex, but that it all gets very sticky and wet down there making washing afterwards a necessity. So i went home, showered, thought that this curry business was going to be epic, thought about giving up and not going, giving mysef an opportunity to catch up on work instead, and then thought better of it.
So, off i went, after realising how awful my favourite fairy dress looked on me when i wore it with bare legs. Never have i seen such horrific meaty monstrosities in my life. It was dreadful.
But, i arrived at the heaving curry house and immediately realised that it wasn't going to be as calm and sedentry as i had anticipated, it was going to be a rather more debauched affair. However, not quite as debauched as the first one, thank goodness. I walked in and waited i the cue to by a ticket. When i was asked how many and replied 'just one' she looked at me like i was a retard. I do have friends, and made it evidently clear by saying 'upstairs' when she was about to ask me where i'd like to sit. I don't like people who judge, especially those who judge you on silly little things like popularity. Judge me on something that matters for christ's sake.
I have a single dreadlock in my hair, coming from just behind my ear, as i thought it would be a good idea to let ND do it. It looks..like a dredlock. I feel it's a bit of a statement to have made, to have let him do, as dredlocks don't comb themselves out easily, or at all. It's all going a bit fast between he and i and i still don't know if i want to sleep with him. I'm actually incredibly scared of heterosexual sex.
But, whilst at the curry, i was sat in the middle of a very long table, long enough to seat perhaps 26/7 people, between my old PBL group and another PBL group. I was sat next to my clinical partner, a very nice, highly [and i mean highly] motivated guy who subsequently proceeded to tell me, with no preamble, that he had been diagnosed with PTSD and was in therapy because of it.
I know why he told me, i had written a note on Facebook that included the fact that i thought i might have PTSD due to the fact that i used to cut myself rather a lot but i'd never have thought that he would..be..strong enough to tell someone without feeling ashamed. It is a strange concept, why would you feel ashamed for having a condition which is out of your control, but as with a lot of psychological medicine it is intangible, making a scientifically orientated person [such as the many that study medicine] attatch less significance to it that if the condition were to be a myocardial infarction. So it was brave of him to tell me, and i suppose it was also brave of me to write that it down in my note. Admitting a weakness is never easy.
That was just a little thing which i thought was very nice.
If i fly i fly in 13 days.
I was at a Medics Curry last night. I met ND for lunch and to book the flights [which i've still not made up my mind in regards to] and then went searching for a friends flat but, alas, i couldn't find it. So i trekked from the city suburbs right back up to the centre [where i live] to have a shower. I needed a shower. I now understand why people take showers in movies are having sex, not that we had sex, but that it all gets very sticky and wet down there making washing afterwards a necessity. So i went home, showered, thought that this curry business was going to be epic, thought about giving up and not going, giving mysef an opportunity to catch up on work instead, and then thought better of it.
So, off i went, after realising how awful my favourite fairy dress looked on me when i wore it with bare legs. Never have i seen such horrific meaty monstrosities in my life. It was dreadful.
But, i arrived at the heaving curry house and immediately realised that it wasn't going to be as calm and sedentry as i had anticipated, it was going to be a rather more debauched affair. However, not quite as debauched as the first one, thank goodness. I walked in and waited i the cue to by a ticket. When i was asked how many and replied 'just one' she looked at me like i was a retard. I do have friends, and made it evidently clear by saying 'upstairs' when she was about to ask me where i'd like to sit. I don't like people who judge, especially those who judge you on silly little things like popularity. Judge me on something that matters for christ's sake.
I have a single dreadlock in my hair, coming from just behind my ear, as i thought it would be a good idea to let ND do it. It looks..like a dredlock. I feel it's a bit of a statement to have made, to have let him do, as dredlocks don't comb themselves out easily, or at all. It's all going a bit fast between he and i and i still don't know if i want to sleep with him. I'm actually incredibly scared of heterosexual sex.
But, whilst at the curry, i was sat in the middle of a very long table, long enough to seat perhaps 26/7 people, between my old PBL group and another PBL group. I was sat next to my clinical partner, a very nice, highly [and i mean highly] motivated guy who subsequently proceeded to tell me, with no preamble, that he had been diagnosed with PTSD and was in therapy because of it.
I know why he told me, i had written a note on Facebook that included the fact that i thought i might have PTSD due to the fact that i used to cut myself rather a lot but i'd never have thought that he would..be..strong enough to tell someone without feeling ashamed. It is a strange concept, why would you feel ashamed for having a condition which is out of your control, but as with a lot of psychological medicine it is intangible, making a scientifically orientated person [such as the many that study medicine] attatch less significance to it that if the condition were to be a myocardial infarction. So it was brave of him to tell me, and i suppose it was also brave of me to write that it down in my note. Admitting a weakness is never easy.
That was just a little thing which i thought was very nice.
If i fly i fly in 13 days.
Wednesday, 18 February 2009
Productive Porcrastination
I'm in the Library right now, supposed to be working but i know that if i try i won't be able to as i have so many things flitting around in my mind. There is a song, This Way which has the most amazing drop in it, it makes you want to sway your entire body to the beat, and that's why i loved it last night, but tonight, the vocal "Why i feel this way?" spins around and around in my head, taunting me.
The same thing that happened with TF-GF is happening with ND. He, well, at least i think, he is falling in love with me. If i'm wrong i'll be the happiest woman alive, but i doubt i am. I like him, i really do, but..i just can't stand the thought of someone loving me. It's..i was about to write 'it's not what i want' but isn't that what we all want? Somone to love us?
I still have a message, at the very end of my inbox, from Hg which ends in 'love you.' Now, the reason it's still there is not because it says love but because in the preamble beforehand. Something sad had happened with one of her love interests and i'd called her as some things just can't be said through a text message. She didn't answer so i left a voicemail, she replied, via text, to the voicemail ending the message with 'love you.' As i was leaving the voicemail i had the strongest urge to finish with with exactly the same thing, but didn't as if there's any doubt when saying words like that, you simply don't say them.
The point of the story is, we all want to be loved. Some just by the wrong people.
Love is not a concept i can handle at the minute, put it that way. Love scares and terrifies me. And for the moment i don't want it anywhere near me. Or, maybe this is scaring me because you can't love more than one person. If i knew how to draw a line through that last scentance i would. This is scaring me because i want to be in love with someone else, and i am aware of that fact, but every day longer i spend knowing ND the more i know i want to be with someone else. But then that someone else is not good for me! And believe me, 'not good' is the understatement of the century..saying Hg and I's relationship issues were complex is like saying the situation in Palestine was less than friendly.
I don't know why i'm even thinking about this anymore. It's ridiculous. I could cry, i would cry, if i wasn't in a public place. This is actually ridiculous, this whole thing. It's fucking outrageously pathetic. Why am i going to Italy? Why am i not over the fucking moon about going to Italy? Why do i still, STILL after all this fucking time, have feelings for Hg? Why? Why won't they just dissapear? Why, when i don't see her for a while, do i feel sad?
Why can't i just be.
Why is there so much fucking work to do regarding Medicine? It's like it never fucking stops. Literally. Like a fountain of water gushing down and half drowning you, allowing you to regain your breath and be calm for a moment, then drowning you again.
The same thing that happened with TF-GF is happening with ND. He, well, at least i think, he is falling in love with me. If i'm wrong i'll be the happiest woman alive, but i doubt i am. I like him, i really do, but..i just can't stand the thought of someone loving me. It's..i was about to write 'it's not what i want' but isn't that what we all want? Somone to love us?
I still have a message, at the very end of my inbox, from Hg which ends in 'love you.' Now, the reason it's still there is not because it says love but because in the preamble beforehand. Something sad had happened with one of her love interests and i'd called her as some things just can't be said through a text message. She didn't answer so i left a voicemail, she replied, via text, to the voicemail ending the message with 'love you.' As i was leaving the voicemail i had the strongest urge to finish with with exactly the same thing, but didn't as if there's any doubt when saying words like that, you simply don't say them.
The point of the story is, we all want to be loved. Some just by the wrong people.
Love is not a concept i can handle at the minute, put it that way. Love scares and terrifies me. And for the moment i don't want it anywhere near me. Or, maybe this is scaring me because you can't love more than one person. If i knew how to draw a line through that last scentance i would. This is scaring me because i want to be in love with someone else, and i am aware of that fact, but every day longer i spend knowing ND the more i know i want to be with someone else. But then that someone else is not good for me! And believe me, 'not good' is the understatement of the century..saying Hg and I's relationship issues were complex is like saying the situation in Palestine was less than friendly.
I don't know why i'm even thinking about this anymore. It's ridiculous. I could cry, i would cry, if i wasn't in a public place. This is actually ridiculous, this whole thing. It's fucking outrageously pathetic. Why am i going to Italy? Why am i not over the fucking moon about going to Italy? Why do i still, STILL after all this fucking time, have feelings for Hg? Why? Why won't they just dissapear? Why, when i don't see her for a while, do i feel sad?
Why can't i just be.
Why is there so much fucking work to do regarding Medicine? It's like it never fucking stops. Literally. Like a fountain of water gushing down and half drowning you, allowing you to regain your breath and be calm for a moment, then drowning you again.
Summary
It's Wednesday and it feels like the days have flown past.
I feel a bit shit, but i shouldn't. I've just said yes to going to Italy with Natty Dred, the italian guy i met last thursday. It's all going very fast and it's wonderful because i actually get turned on by him..and he is a man..which is strange. It's all very serendipidous..we went to see a film; Vicky Christina Barcelona, last night. It was percect, Woody Allen directed and the satyrical witt really shone through. It was halarious in parts, absolutely brilliantly directed. A bit like The Royal Tenumbaums but in love story format. It was just like the relationship which he and i share, crazy and halarious and stupid but very enjoyable. He is a lovely guy.
He asked me yesterday, if i was still in love with the friend, Hg, which i told him about before. I didn't answer, changing the subject and swiftly ignoring the question. I still am..but it's turned into a dying love, that will never be actualised and that will just sit in my chest, hurting, from time to time. It's rubbish. Truely rubbish. There is a hot italian guy falling for me but all i want [and not even a tangible kind of want, all i long for in an idealistic, perfect, joyous world that evidently does not exist] is her. But i don't even know how i can manage to still feel this, it's not real. It never will be real and i try to push it down and squash it but still it erupts in sadness sometimes.
It needs to resolve itself. And it will, it will either go away by itself and return to normal [not that there ever was a normal] or it'll explode. I'm willing to bet at least a hundred quid that there will be some sort of explosion, there usually is in my life.
But here's to Italy. And missing a week of Uni, which i will most hopefully catch up with.
I feel a bit shit, but i shouldn't. I've just said yes to going to Italy with Natty Dred, the italian guy i met last thursday. It's all going very fast and it's wonderful because i actually get turned on by him..and he is a man..which is strange. It's all very serendipidous..we went to see a film; Vicky Christina Barcelona, last night. It was percect, Woody Allen directed and the satyrical witt really shone through. It was halarious in parts, absolutely brilliantly directed. A bit like The Royal Tenumbaums but in love story format. It was just like the relationship which he and i share, crazy and halarious and stupid but very enjoyable. He is a lovely guy.
He asked me yesterday, if i was still in love with the friend, Hg, which i told him about before. I didn't answer, changing the subject and swiftly ignoring the question. I still am..but it's turned into a dying love, that will never be actualised and that will just sit in my chest, hurting, from time to time. It's rubbish. Truely rubbish. There is a hot italian guy falling for me but all i want [and not even a tangible kind of want, all i long for in an idealistic, perfect, joyous world that evidently does not exist] is her. But i don't even know how i can manage to still feel this, it's not real. It never will be real and i try to push it down and squash it but still it erupts in sadness sometimes.
It needs to resolve itself. And it will, it will either go away by itself and return to normal [not that there ever was a normal] or it'll explode. I'm willing to bet at least a hundred quid that there will be some sort of explosion, there usually is in my life.
But here's to Italy. And missing a week of Uni, which i will most hopefully catch up with.
Thursday, 12 February 2009
Gaza
Today i went to the Students Emergency General Meeting called in an attempt to pass a motion in solidarity with the people of Gaza, the Palestinians, or so i thought.
I have friends who have been in the occupied buildings for days, i have rallied outside these buildings in support of the Palestinians cause, i believed wholeheartedly that what was happening was wrong, was an outrage against all forms of humanity and that the BBC should have aired the appeal as what was happening before the cease-fire was, essentially, a disaster. I still do believe all these things, and perhaps naively i believed that politics could be left out of the equation; ignored. My feelings were that all that mattered was the fact that people were dying, 1300 people, innocent people and that needed to stop as those people had no where to run, they were trapped and being bombarded, irrespective of who threw the first stone. Trapped and slaughtered.
So i went along to a few rallies and campaigned.
At the meeting, which was so full that the students cafe area had to be used as an overflow [perhaps around 700 people were there] the first item on the agenda was an amendment to the motion being passed, specifically, to remove the scentance "we wish to show solidarity with the Palestinian people and their democratically elected government, Hamas." The speaker then read aloud Hamas' manifesto [or something] and it contained constant Jew bashing to the most extreme level. "We will not stop until every jew is dead, if there is a Jew hiding behind a bush we will find him and kill him." As is expected with Islamic states, there was also blatant homophobia, sexism, zenophobia.
Who, in their right minds, would support this government? The Palestinian people, perhaps, but they have their reasons. They are a people with extreme pressure on them and who have been badgered into hatred, we however, in our very comfortable western bubble, have not been. We have the luxury of education, freedom and a modern culture not tarred by hatred towards another people. Hamas may have been demorcratically elected within Palestine but that is no reason why we should sacrafice our morals and accept their leadship and show solidarity with them. I would frankly rather die.
So i raised my hand, as i thought the ammendment was essential, how could a motion supporting a government that destructive and filled with hatred be allowed to pass? We were in the significant minority. I was ashamed of those who stood around me. No, perhaps not ashamed, bewildered. The shame and anger came later. Did they not understand..were they not listening? Why were they cheering as they were told they had the majority? Do they support Hamas? Because, you know, being a gay in the midst of 300 potential gay bashers is not fun.
At that moment it sank. Whatever it was, where ever on or within my body it was, it sank. And it sank low. I went for a cigarette and bought some tickets to a club night tomorrow evening whilst outside.
When i returned it just got worse. People who obviously did not support Hamas were leaving and being booed whilst doing so. Booed. What the fuck was is this? I found myself thinking. Is there no dignity left, no sense, no ounce of intelligence left in their brains? Do they not even have the courtesy to let those who disagree leave gracefully? They booed the chair. Imbeciles. They booed another female speaker who tried to explain Hamas' attitudes towards women, they didn't care. They were a mob intent on one thing and one thing only; they were cutting their noses off despite their faces.
The motion passed, inclusive of the Hamas clause. I felt empty, cheated.
As the room slowly emptied chants were being shouted.
"Free free, Palestine!"
"Viva Viva, Palestina!"
"From the river, to the sea, Palestine will be free!"
A close friend's older sister, Chair of the Universities Socialist Party was leading the chanting. I felt like screaming, like asking for my time back, for my beliefs and hope to be re-instated. They were pro-Hamas.
Never, ever, will i be pro-an islamic state. As long as i draw breath i will fight for the right to be free to love who i will and every islamic state in the world currently bans that on the basis of religion, the God at whose core is the very same God who created us all, whom we all worship.
So i went to the library and did some studying. I studied the wrong book first, it was shit. I've not done nearly enough but fuck it.
I'm not protesting with this University again for Palestine.
The motion passed, with the
I have friends who have been in the occupied buildings for days, i have rallied outside these buildings in support of the Palestinians cause, i believed wholeheartedly that what was happening was wrong, was an outrage against all forms of humanity and that the BBC should have aired the appeal as what was happening before the cease-fire was, essentially, a disaster. I still do believe all these things, and perhaps naively i believed that politics could be left out of the equation; ignored. My feelings were that all that mattered was the fact that people were dying, 1300 people, innocent people and that needed to stop as those people had no where to run, they were trapped and being bombarded, irrespective of who threw the first stone. Trapped and slaughtered.
So i went along to a few rallies and campaigned.
At the meeting, which was so full that the students cafe area had to be used as an overflow [perhaps around 700 people were there] the first item on the agenda was an amendment to the motion being passed, specifically, to remove the scentance "we wish to show solidarity with the Palestinian people and their democratically elected government, Hamas." The speaker then read aloud Hamas' manifesto [or something] and it contained constant Jew bashing to the most extreme level. "We will not stop until every jew is dead, if there is a Jew hiding behind a bush we will find him and kill him." As is expected with Islamic states, there was also blatant homophobia, sexism, zenophobia.
Who, in their right minds, would support this government? The Palestinian people, perhaps, but they have their reasons. They are a people with extreme pressure on them and who have been badgered into hatred, we however, in our very comfortable western bubble, have not been. We have the luxury of education, freedom and a modern culture not tarred by hatred towards another people. Hamas may have been demorcratically elected within Palestine but that is no reason why we should sacrafice our morals and accept their leadship and show solidarity with them. I would frankly rather die.
So i raised my hand, as i thought the ammendment was essential, how could a motion supporting a government that destructive and filled with hatred be allowed to pass? We were in the significant minority. I was ashamed of those who stood around me. No, perhaps not ashamed, bewildered. The shame and anger came later. Did they not understand..were they not listening? Why were they cheering as they were told they had the majority? Do they support Hamas? Because, you know, being a gay in the midst of 300 potential gay bashers is not fun.
At that moment it sank. Whatever it was, where ever on or within my body it was, it sank. And it sank low. I went for a cigarette and bought some tickets to a club night tomorrow evening whilst outside.
When i returned it just got worse. People who obviously did not support Hamas were leaving and being booed whilst doing so. Booed. What the fuck was is this? I found myself thinking. Is there no dignity left, no sense, no ounce of intelligence left in their brains? Do they not even have the courtesy to let those who disagree leave gracefully? They booed the chair. Imbeciles. They booed another female speaker who tried to explain Hamas' attitudes towards women, they didn't care. They were a mob intent on one thing and one thing only; they were cutting their noses off despite their faces.
The motion passed, inclusive of the Hamas clause. I felt empty, cheated.
As the room slowly emptied chants were being shouted.
"Free free, Palestine!"
"Viva Viva, Palestina!"
"From the river, to the sea, Palestine will be free!"
A close friend's older sister, Chair of the Universities Socialist Party was leading the chanting. I felt like screaming, like asking for my time back, for my beliefs and hope to be re-instated. They were pro-Hamas.
Never, ever, will i be pro-an islamic state. As long as i draw breath i will fight for the right to be free to love who i will and every islamic state in the world currently bans that on the basis of religion, the God at whose core is the very same God who created us all, whom we all worship.
So i went to the library and did some studying. I studied the wrong book first, it was shit. I've not done nearly enough but fuck it.
I'm not protesting with this University again for Palestine.
The motion passed, with the
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
Early Experience
They, as in, the Medical School, send us on early experience visits to various hospitals and GP practices around the city. These visits are rather hit and miss, but always worthwhile, even if the learning objectives aren't really addressed and you end up doing something completely different from what you're supposed to be, like just talking and observing the most mind numbing procedures possible, as it's all experience in a medical setting..getting used to interacting in a professional environment. I feel as though it's an ebbingly constant reminder of why we're doing what we're doing.
My clinical partner, CaCO3, who i get along with really well [and who i secretly think is the best medic i've met and had the opportunity to interact with so far, excluding the medics i've met in social situations -he even found this story involving Happy Pill usage funny, which is saying something as some people can be QUITE anal about these things-] and i interviewed a woman, initially, who was, medically, quite boring. Afterwards i had the sinking feeling and the dread of it being another un-stimulating session but a nurse approached us almost immediately afterwards as we were milling around and asked us if we needed any help. I asked if there was anyone that we could interview and she replied 'anyone in particular?' so, on a whim [and also as i really didn't fancy another static interview] i replied 'someone interesting?' and she directed us to bed 20; 'don't mind the chains.'
H, was guarded by two prison guards, chained to the female one. A heavy metal handcuff was around her wrist connected to a 2m long industrial chain and at the other end sat a prison officer reading heat magazine also with a heavy metal cuff around her wrist. The male guard sat on the other side of the bed, to her right. It was certainly a scene to walk into..i'd kind of assessed it whilst walking over to the bed but long legs mean long strides and i'm not exactly one who prethinks the words that come from my mouth so by the time i was at the side of the bed i had to speak.
I don't think initially i made eye contact, because i didn't really know where to look. My memories are always of me observing myself, so trying to recall doesn't help. I think my sight was directed at the bed, or her shoulders..any place but her eyes. It definately didn't encompass the guards at any time. I introduced myself, waited for CaCO3 to do the same, asked if it was possible to speak to her and then we sat down. I went briefly through the confidentiality element and then we started talking about her condition.
Medically, it was fascinating; she was on numerous treatments, all of which were incredibly interesting and administered in different ways having different points of action. Humanly, it was amazing, truely amazing. Talking to someone from such a different background, having such a different experience of life but so willing to share so many aspects of it was the most invaluble learning opportunity i've encountered so far.
It was sad though, very, very sad as her condition was not going to get better..it was a case of maintaining the current state of health and attempting to stop it worsening. There was a moment, which could have gone very badly ending in an incredibly awkward silence but it didn't. She had to have a subcutainious drip through which a bronchiodilating drug was constantly pumped 24/7 attatched to her body. Essentially, the drug being pumped is what prevented her airways collapsing..what prevented her dying. She started talking about not wanting the drip and her mother being poorly..at the time, the cogs in the back of my mind whirred and i think i made the connection, despite not knowing how severe the consequences of living without the drip were, that something had to be said and then the subject diverted as we couldn't continue down that path. It leads to bad places when you are 19 and know next to nothing about the medical profession. But the problem you face is where to change it to and how to do it. If you don't reciprocate and respond to their previous scentance you damage the rapore but if you do reciprocate you risk going down a path that is way above your head. The trick is; knowing what to say. It sounds easy, it's fucking hard. A-L-L E-A-R-S may help but doesn't give you the exact words needed to reciprocate when someone is basically telling you that their life is shite and they want to refuse medical treatment.
In hindsight i'm quite proud of what i said; 'you've got to have hope.' As with a lot of what i say, like when i talk about injustice, i get rather passionate. There's body language, hand wavin and stuff. She reciprocated the hand gestures. I think then the nurse came round and re-inserted the drip oncemore.
I said before i felt like i was getting better at this conversation business, i really think it's true.
If everyday was like today i would gladly wake up at 6.30 am
My clinical partner, CaCO3, who i get along with really well [and who i secretly think is the best medic i've met and had the opportunity to interact with so far, excluding the medics i've met in social situations -he even found this story involving Happy Pill usage funny, which is saying something as some people can be QUITE anal about these things-] and i interviewed a woman, initially, who was, medically, quite boring. Afterwards i had the sinking feeling and the dread of it being another un-stimulating session but a nurse approached us almost immediately afterwards as we were milling around and asked us if we needed any help. I asked if there was anyone that we could interview and she replied 'anyone in particular?' so, on a whim [and also as i really didn't fancy another static interview] i replied 'someone interesting?' and she directed us to bed 20; 'don't mind the chains.'
H, was guarded by two prison guards, chained to the female one. A heavy metal handcuff was around her wrist connected to a 2m long industrial chain and at the other end sat a prison officer reading heat magazine also with a heavy metal cuff around her wrist. The male guard sat on the other side of the bed, to her right. It was certainly a scene to walk into..i'd kind of assessed it whilst walking over to the bed but long legs mean long strides and i'm not exactly one who prethinks the words that come from my mouth so by the time i was at the side of the bed i had to speak.
I don't think initially i made eye contact, because i didn't really know where to look. My memories are always of me observing myself, so trying to recall doesn't help. I think my sight was directed at the bed, or her shoulders..any place but her eyes. It definately didn't encompass the guards at any time. I introduced myself, waited for CaCO3 to do the same, asked if it was possible to speak to her and then we sat down. I went briefly through the confidentiality element and then we started talking about her condition.
Medically, it was fascinating; she was on numerous treatments, all of which were incredibly interesting and administered in different ways having different points of action. Humanly, it was amazing, truely amazing. Talking to someone from such a different background, having such a different experience of life but so willing to share so many aspects of it was the most invaluble learning opportunity i've encountered so far.
It was sad though, very, very sad as her condition was not going to get better..it was a case of maintaining the current state of health and attempting to stop it worsening. There was a moment, which could have gone very badly ending in an incredibly awkward silence but it didn't. She had to have a subcutainious drip through which a bronchiodilating drug was constantly pumped 24/7 attatched to her body. Essentially, the drug being pumped is what prevented her airways collapsing..what prevented her dying. She started talking about not wanting the drip and her mother being poorly..at the time, the cogs in the back of my mind whirred and i think i made the connection, despite not knowing how severe the consequences of living without the drip were, that something had to be said and then the subject diverted as we couldn't continue down that path. It leads to bad places when you are 19 and know next to nothing about the medical profession. But the problem you face is where to change it to and how to do it. If you don't reciprocate and respond to their previous scentance you damage the rapore but if you do reciprocate you risk going down a path that is way above your head. The trick is; knowing what to say. It sounds easy, it's fucking hard. A-L-L E-A-R-S may help but doesn't give you the exact words needed to reciprocate when someone is basically telling you that their life is shite and they want to refuse medical treatment.
In hindsight i'm quite proud of what i said; 'you've got to have hope.' As with a lot of what i say, like when i talk about injustice, i get rather passionate. There's body language, hand wavin and stuff. She reciprocated the hand gestures. I think then the nurse came round and re-inserted the drip oncemore.
I said before i felt like i was getting better at this conversation business, i really think it's true.
If everyday was like today i would gladly wake up at 6.30 am
Things i'll never say..
Much like that Avril Lavigne song.
See..there is this thing. I tried to tell O2 but i couldn't. I actually tried really hard, my fingers were even hovering over the keys in anticipation of the autonomic signals waiting to be sent to my digitorum muscles [of which there are several which i should but can't name] but i couldn't..i knew if i said it something would happen..something which would begin with tears and end i've no idea where, but i've a sneaking suspicion if it began with tears it would end in an even worse state.
I should write it here. This is the one and only place i have that is private, is mine and only mine; where i am anonymous and blindfolded from everyone. Here i am a drop in a ocean of bullshit and superfilous blogging. And i fucking love it. But i have an extreme paranoia, after what happened last time, that someone, somewhere, who i know, will be reading. It's irrational, undeniably..but it was devastating. Admitedly, what i write here is a lot less sensitive that what i wrote before, and on the original blog i probably looked..well, i looked like exactly who i was. I never lied about what i felt or what i did to myself..i was a terrifyingly messed up kid.
And i don't think i was that affected by what that individual knew about me; it was the possibility, because i knew they had copied and pasted the entire blog's history, that they could show someone else. That they could show the entire world. Anonymity is a huge factor, it allows for control..something which i lost, most epically, when i met the first counsellor.
A feeling that is very bad has taken over me, it is probably the worst feeling which i could possibly have in my entire life. OK, that is an overstatement of gargantuan proportions. It's not that bad, but it just hurts, a lot..right, it's coming..i'm just building myself up to it now, warming up my digitorum muscles..it's going to come, am i ready? No..but i'm going to do it anyway aren't i? I fucking well hope so..here goes nothing..oh dear..i can't do it. Fuck this.
I am an idiot. I hate this.
I'm going to roll a cigarette.
I am in love with Hg.
It tears me in two. And it is ridiculous. I thought it had gone away, i thought it was just a thing, like..a little small thing that wasn't really very serious..or i had tried to rationalise it into that. But it wasn't. It was quite a big thing. I don't think i've ever sucked on a cigarette quite so much. I would love to say i was pathetic. But i can't be that person anymore; riddled with self hatred and loathing. It's bad enough that i think i have PTSD because of what i used to do to myself. That's gone, in the past.
But i do love her.
Good times eh? Good fucking times. Fuck the mighty boosh, up the arse; unprotected.
This is going to end oh so badly. It's going to end in a terrible state. A terrible, drunken, high, fucked off my face state.
You know when i realised? This is so hurrendous. We were in some boys bedroom several people, getting Happy, and they [Hg and the boy] were talking about peoples smell. She said; "i think love has a smell" i thought about what she'd said, absorbed it, and somehow, god know's how a brain is capable of this, but somehow, her smell filled my mind. I was too Happy to care at that moment, but in hindsight it was awful. Then..i couldn't really deny it anymore.
See..there is this thing. I tried to tell O2 but i couldn't. I actually tried really hard, my fingers were even hovering over the keys in anticipation of the autonomic signals waiting to be sent to my digitorum muscles [of which there are several which i should but can't name] but i couldn't..i knew if i said it something would happen..something which would begin with tears and end i've no idea where, but i've a sneaking suspicion if it began with tears it would end in an even worse state.
I should write it here. This is the one and only place i have that is private, is mine and only mine; where i am anonymous and blindfolded from everyone. Here i am a drop in a ocean of bullshit and superfilous blogging. And i fucking love it. But i have an extreme paranoia, after what happened last time, that someone, somewhere, who i know, will be reading. It's irrational, undeniably..but it was devastating. Admitedly, what i write here is a lot less sensitive that what i wrote before, and on the original blog i probably looked..well, i looked like exactly who i was. I never lied about what i felt or what i did to myself..i was a terrifyingly messed up kid.
And i don't think i was that affected by what that individual knew about me; it was the possibility, because i knew they had copied and pasted the entire blog's history, that they could show someone else. That they could show the entire world. Anonymity is a huge factor, it allows for control..something which i lost, most epically, when i met the first counsellor.
A feeling that is very bad has taken over me, it is probably the worst feeling which i could possibly have in my entire life. OK, that is an overstatement of gargantuan proportions. It's not that bad, but it just hurts, a lot..right, it's coming..i'm just building myself up to it now, warming up my digitorum muscles..it's going to come, am i ready? No..but i'm going to do it anyway aren't i? I fucking well hope so..here goes nothing..oh dear..i can't do it. Fuck this.
I am an idiot. I hate this.
I'm going to roll a cigarette.
I am in love with Hg.
It tears me in two. And it is ridiculous. I thought it had gone away, i thought it was just a thing, like..a little small thing that wasn't really very serious..or i had tried to rationalise it into that. But it wasn't. It was quite a big thing. I don't think i've ever sucked on a cigarette quite so much. I would love to say i was pathetic. But i can't be that person anymore; riddled with self hatred and loathing. It's bad enough that i think i have PTSD because of what i used to do to myself. That's gone, in the past.
But i do love her.
Good times eh? Good fucking times. Fuck the mighty boosh, up the arse; unprotected.
This is going to end oh so badly. It's going to end in a terrible state. A terrible, drunken, high, fucked off my face state.
You know when i realised? This is so hurrendous. We were in some boys bedroom several people, getting Happy, and they [Hg and the boy] were talking about peoples smell. She said; "i think love has a smell" i thought about what she'd said, absorbed it, and somehow, god know's how a brain is capable of this, but somehow, her smell filled my mind. I was too Happy to care at that moment, but in hindsight it was awful. Then..i couldn't really deny it anymore.
Saturday, 7 February 2009
8.00 am
We got in at 8.00 am this morning. It was quite funny.
I was in the library trying to study but i could hear the chanting of the Gaza rally very near which was incredibly distracting as, rather obviously, i'd rather have been there than in the library trying to learn something which i don't REALLY give a shit about. Well, i do in the sense that it is for my future career but to be quite brutally honest, the parietal and visceral membranes enveloping the lungs and the consequences of their puncture in a tension pneumothorax, although clinically stimulating a very relevant, were not at the top of my list. Hg was texting me, trying to persuade me to come out..the noise of the rally..it all got too much. I realised how much more fun i'd have if i wasn't in the library, so i buggered off.
I floated around the edges of the rally, which was in support of students locked in the [very posh] university building in an attempt to bring light to the situation in Gaza and prevent the university funding weapons research [or something, i'm not quite sure] for a little and then saw a friend there. It was good, there was a real sense of solidarity and purpose. We got chatting to a few people, some of whom were incredibly interesting and i took some pictures of the rally and the buildings. It was a good thing to do, to be a very minute part of, i just wish i had the dedication required to go the full stretch..i most definitely don't. I went home at about 9 to eat some dinner and go out with Hg. That is not dedication, that is pathetic.
We went to a club, where the Love of My Life was. TLOML is, of course, not TLOML, but she's near enough. I actually spoke to her this time, she was dancing right next to me and i was like; "you're arse keeps banging my hip, please stop." That was the shittest thing ever. She dissapeared from sight after that. TLOML knows this guy that i met. He is the same guy i got Happy with before. Hg and i went to his flat after the club, to get more Happy and as it was already 4am i knew full well we wouldn't be going home for a good while, i'd almost accepted that i would be sacrificing lectures to stay up very late but i hadn't anticipated how much fun we'd actually have.
Oh, i forgot, i deliberately only took £12 out with me and so i inevitably only spent £12. It was fucking brilliant, i was thoroughly fucked less than the price of a 3 course meal. When it came to getting the taxi Hg's friend, Hobit, gave her £5 [i wouldn't take it] and we got in a cab and he took us all the way home for just the small green note. It was very nice of him.
Anyway, this guy, who is i thought was alright [i even thought i may fancy him a little] was a prick the whole night. Just being petty and insulting, in the way a 14 year old is and he was constantly making me get up and get him water as he was too fucking Happy to do it himself. He even made me roll, 3 times. We kissed, it was quite nice. He kept putting his face really close to mine, and i kept giggling as i thought it was funny. He said stop laughing, so i tried really hard not to laugh and was then made aware of how close his face actually was to mine. We hovered there for a few moments and then we kissed. Immediately afterwards, in the moment where you pull away and open your eyes, he said 'that was nice.' That one comment was probably the nicest thing he said the whole night.
Then i think i saw him nearly do the same thing with Hg. Whilst i was in the room, which took the piss a little bit. That was when i half heartedly slapped him [i don't know what gave me the urge, too much eastenders perhaps] and said i was leaving. He likes Hg, he may like me, i text him Hg's number as there was an awkward moment whilst leaving, stood in the doorway, where i said 'well why don't you just kiss both of us at the same time then?' after he asked for Hg's number and if he introduced me to TLOMY then its all good. Just as long as he doesn't tell her about that kiss.
Today i met this girl. We went with a couple of her friends for a few drinks. She is a hell of a lot nicer than i could have ever imagined. I actually fancy her a little bit. It would be quite nice to kiss her lots. And lots. Just to see what its like, obviously. Not because i like her. The two are not mutally intertwined, never ever ever would they be intertwined in a qua
Hg's dad has cancer. She looked so sad earlier this evening, on the brink of tears sad, i felt awful.
I was in the library trying to study but i could hear the chanting of the Gaza rally very near which was incredibly distracting as, rather obviously, i'd rather have been there than in the library trying to learn something which i don't REALLY give a shit about. Well, i do in the sense that it is for my future career but to be quite brutally honest, the parietal and visceral membranes enveloping the lungs and the consequences of their puncture in a tension pneumothorax, although clinically stimulating a very relevant, were not at the top of my list. Hg was texting me, trying to persuade me to come out..the noise of the rally..it all got too much. I realised how much more fun i'd have if i wasn't in the library, so i buggered off.
I floated around the edges of the rally, which was in support of students locked in the [very posh] university building in an attempt to bring light to the situation in Gaza and prevent the university funding weapons research [or something, i'm not quite sure] for a little and then saw a friend there. It was good, there was a real sense of solidarity and purpose. We got chatting to a few people, some of whom were incredibly interesting and i took some pictures of the rally and the buildings. It was a good thing to do, to be a very minute part of, i just wish i had the dedication required to go the full stretch..i most definitely don't. I went home at about 9 to eat some dinner and go out with Hg. That is not dedication, that is pathetic.
We went to a club, where the Love of My Life was. TLOML is, of course, not TLOML, but she's near enough. I actually spoke to her this time, she was dancing right next to me and i was like; "you're arse keeps banging my hip, please stop." That was the shittest thing ever. She dissapeared from sight after that. TLOML knows this guy that i met. He is the same guy i got Happy with before. Hg and i went to his flat after the club, to get more Happy and as it was already 4am i knew full well we wouldn't be going home for a good while, i'd almost accepted that i would be sacrificing lectures to stay up very late but i hadn't anticipated how much fun we'd actually have.
Oh, i forgot, i deliberately only took £12 out with me and so i inevitably only spent £12. It was fucking brilliant, i was thoroughly fucked less than the price of a 3 course meal. When it came to getting the taxi Hg's friend, Hobit, gave her £5 [i wouldn't take it] and we got in a cab and he took us all the way home for just the small green note. It was very nice of him.
Anyway, this guy, who is i thought was alright [i even thought i may fancy him a little] was a prick the whole night. Just being petty and insulting, in the way a 14 year old is and he was constantly making me get up and get him water as he was too fucking Happy to do it himself. He even made me roll, 3 times. We kissed, it was quite nice. He kept putting his face really close to mine, and i kept giggling as i thought it was funny. He said stop laughing, so i tried really hard not to laugh and was then made aware of how close his face actually was to mine. We hovered there for a few moments and then we kissed. Immediately afterwards, in the moment where you pull away and open your eyes, he said 'that was nice.' That one comment was probably the nicest thing he said the whole night.
Then i think i saw him nearly do the same thing with Hg. Whilst i was in the room, which took the piss a little bit. That was when i half heartedly slapped him [i don't know what gave me the urge, too much eastenders perhaps] and said i was leaving. He likes Hg, he may like me, i text him Hg's number as there was an awkward moment whilst leaving, stood in the doorway, where i said 'well why don't you just kiss both of us at the same time then?' after he asked for Hg's number and if he introduced me to TLOMY then its all good. Just as long as he doesn't tell her about that kiss.
Today i met this girl. We went with a couple of her friends for a few drinks. She is a hell of a lot nicer than i could have ever imagined. I actually fancy her a little bit. It would be quite nice to kiss her lots. And lots. Just to see what its like, obviously. Not because i like her. The two are not mutally intertwined, never ever ever would they be intertwined in a qua
Hg's dad has cancer. She looked so sad earlier this evening, on the brink of tears sad, i felt awful.
Thursday, 5 February 2009
Shattered
Literally.
The fucking light bulb, and not a small fucking light bulb, the fuck off massive long industrial sized ones they're horrifically installed in our 1960's style rooms, shattered everywhere. Literally everywhere. On my bed, my floor, my desk, my clothes, the bay window, glass was ven in my shoes. It took the best part of an hour to hover up. I am so pissed off. All this hassle would have been saved if they had kept to their fucking health and safety guidelines and installed, with the fuck off ugly light bulb, a cover. Just a simple plastic cover. But no. The stupid fuckwits didn't, they left the bulb exposed. I keep writing 'buld' instead of bulb. I need to get the dyselxia testing sorted.
It seems as though bad luck is following me around. Yesterday, after waiting 3 weeks and running out of knickers, i did my washing. The stupid fucking machine fucked it up, washed it all in freezing cold water and then didn't do a spin cycle at the end so what recieved me as i opened the door was soaking wet, freezing cold washing weighing at least 7 kg. So i lugged it into the lift and spent, again, the best part of an hour wringing it out and hanging it up. That took the piss.
The shower knob thing fell off just now when i attempted a 'relaxing' shower to calm my pissed off self down.
Last night several of us went out. It was good fun, an indie club [£4 entry a little steep though] with good music but a pretty generic clientele. Very..unoriginal. Towards the end i went out for a cigarette and found Hg with a guy, who was blatantly chatting her up. He was wearing eye liner. I immediately judged him and thought he was a twat. He turned out to be one anyway, so i was right. Hg went inside after she's finished smoking. Twat face and i continued our conversation, about God. As soon as we had started i knew that either it would be one of the best conversations of the night or so bad i'd just have to walk away. The line he used was; "i have friends wh are religious but.." and then he would proceed to insult faith without even stepping up to the table and accepting that religion was not emperical, it was a philosophy.
I can't stand rude people at the best of times. But rude people who think they're excused from the rules of etiquete because they have a friend. Fuck me darling, we all have friends. Just because a nazi knew a jewish person that they didn't kill don't make them any less of a fucking nazi. It's like being 14 and using the line 'i'm not being rude but..' and then calling your opponant a cock sucking whore [because they obviously deserved it and you were just telling the truth].
The second thing that made this guy, and many other people, such as Richard 'Twat Face' Dawkins unbelivably irritating was his absolute and unshakable faith in science. Their faith in science is equally as irrational as my faith in God, they, however, don't seem to see it like that. I am going to rude now, i'm pre-warning you, and, for the record, i have athiest friends; for most everyday run of the mill people to have faith in science is ridiculous; it's a thing that even the most intelligent of proffesors are still trying to uncode. I've spent my life learning about atoms and their interactions and my degree will enable me to understand the integral workings of the human body and how it works the way it does, but no proffessor will ever be able to tell me why. They could point out the loci of the gene which codes for the protien which leads to the condition or normal function, if they were lucky. Because we don't know why most of the genome is. We know ATCGGGGTTTAATGCCAT but we don't know what it translates into.
So, for someone, who, and i'm going to be rude again, has a hell of a lot less knowledge of science that i do, to tell me that science is the answer, when it's doubtful that they are even aware of its limitations, pisses me off. And when they think they're right and don't even step up to the table of debate, that quadrouple pisses me off. Twats.
That pissed me off, the fact that he was trying to pull Hg pissed me off, the fact that i'd just shared a very personal example of faith with the twat face and then had to be reminded of something very sad, that pissed me off too, realising that perhaps i'm not as over Hg as i thought i was pissed me off no end and then, as always in shite generic indie clubs, champagne supernova came on and i felt like dying inside. So i left. And cried all the way home.
I knocked on Li when i got in. He was drunk, as usual. I think i scared him slightly as he's not seen me very upset in a while. I tried to leave whilst still smoking but he grabbed the cigarette out of my hand. Si, who lives on our corridoor and will be living in the 14 bed house next year, knocked on my door to tell me my keys were in the kitchen. It was a bit of a bad moment to knock for me. I think i may have freaked her out slightly, but it's fine. On my birthday i cried so hard i couldn't see. For about 20 minutes, continuously. Now, the only thing that stops me being embaressed by that is that there was a good reason for it. I went downstairs to give Hg her guitar back and after a bit of conversation she got quite pissed off at me for not telling her i'd left. She had a bit of a go. When a friend of ours walked into the room she actually asked if we were "having a moment." To which we both promptly answered "No." Honestly, if i'd had to have told someone i was going i think i would have actually exploded with sadness and have been sucked into the black hole which would have appeared right under my feet, in the club, specially designed just to be the right size to fit me and all others that try desperately not to cry in public places into it.
The fucking light bulb, and not a small fucking light bulb, the fuck off massive long industrial sized ones they're horrifically installed in our 1960's style rooms, shattered everywhere. Literally everywhere. On my bed, my floor, my desk, my clothes, the bay window, glass was ven in my shoes. It took the best part of an hour to hover up. I am so pissed off. All this hassle would have been saved if they had kept to their fucking health and safety guidelines and installed, with the fuck off ugly light bulb, a cover. Just a simple plastic cover. But no. The stupid fuckwits didn't, they left the bulb exposed. I keep writing 'buld' instead of bulb. I need to get the dyselxia testing sorted.
It seems as though bad luck is following me around. Yesterday, after waiting 3 weeks and running out of knickers, i did my washing. The stupid fucking machine fucked it up, washed it all in freezing cold water and then didn't do a spin cycle at the end so what recieved me as i opened the door was soaking wet, freezing cold washing weighing at least 7 kg. So i lugged it into the lift and spent, again, the best part of an hour wringing it out and hanging it up. That took the piss.
The shower knob thing fell off just now when i attempted a 'relaxing' shower to calm my pissed off self down.
Last night several of us went out. It was good fun, an indie club [£4 entry a little steep though] with good music but a pretty generic clientele. Very..unoriginal. Towards the end i went out for a cigarette and found Hg with a guy, who was blatantly chatting her up. He was wearing eye liner. I immediately judged him and thought he was a twat. He turned out to be one anyway, so i was right. Hg went inside after she's finished smoking. Twat face and i continued our conversation, about God. As soon as we had started i knew that either it would be one of the best conversations of the night or so bad i'd just have to walk away. The line he used was; "i have friends wh are religious but.." and then he would proceed to insult faith without even stepping up to the table and accepting that religion was not emperical, it was a philosophy.
I can't stand rude people at the best of times. But rude people who think they're excused from the rules of etiquete because they have a friend. Fuck me darling, we all have friends. Just because a nazi knew a jewish person that they didn't kill don't make them any less of a fucking nazi. It's like being 14 and using the line 'i'm not being rude but..' and then calling your opponant a cock sucking whore [because they obviously deserved it and you were just telling the truth].
The second thing that made this guy, and many other people, such as Richard 'Twat Face' Dawkins unbelivably irritating was his absolute and unshakable faith in science. Their faith in science is equally as irrational as my faith in God, they, however, don't seem to see it like that. I am going to rude now, i'm pre-warning you, and, for the record, i have athiest friends; for most everyday run of the mill people to have faith in science is ridiculous; it's a thing that even the most intelligent of proffesors are still trying to uncode. I've spent my life learning about atoms and their interactions and my degree will enable me to understand the integral workings of the human body and how it works the way it does, but no proffessor will ever be able to tell me why. They could point out the loci of the gene which codes for the protien which leads to the condition or normal function, if they were lucky. Because we don't know why most of the genome is. We know ATCGGGGTTTAATGCCAT but we don't know what it translates into.
So, for someone, who, and i'm going to be rude again, has a hell of a lot less knowledge of science that i do, to tell me that science is the answer, when it's doubtful that they are even aware of its limitations, pisses me off. And when they think they're right and don't even step up to the table of debate, that quadrouple pisses me off. Twats.
That pissed me off, the fact that he was trying to pull Hg pissed me off, the fact that i'd just shared a very personal example of faith with the twat face and then had to be reminded of something very sad, that pissed me off too, realising that perhaps i'm not as over Hg as i thought i was pissed me off no end and then, as always in shite generic indie clubs, champagne supernova came on and i felt like dying inside. So i left. And cried all the way home.
I knocked on Li when i got in. He was drunk, as usual. I think i scared him slightly as he's not seen me very upset in a while. I tried to leave whilst still smoking but he grabbed the cigarette out of my hand. Si, who lives on our corridoor and will be living in the 14 bed house next year, knocked on my door to tell me my keys were in the kitchen. It was a bit of a bad moment to knock for me. I think i may have freaked her out slightly, but it's fine. On my birthday i cried so hard i couldn't see. For about 20 minutes, continuously. Now, the only thing that stops me being embaressed by that is that there was a good reason for it. I went downstairs to give Hg her guitar back and after a bit of conversation she got quite pissed off at me for not telling her i'd left. She had a bit of a go. When a friend of ours walked into the room she actually asked if we were "having a moment." To which we both promptly answered "No." Honestly, if i'd had to have told someone i was going i think i would have actually exploded with sadness and have been sucked into the black hole which would have appeared right under my feet, in the club, specially designed just to be the right size to fit me and all others that try desperately not to cry in public places into it.
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
First Day Back
And it wasn't as horrific as i'd expected.
I had the sense of impending doom so i decided it'd probably be best if i did something constructive with my time..so i went and got Happy with this guy [and several of his friends] who i'd spoken to for perhaps..2 minutes at a night on Saturday. It might have been bad, but i had a nice feeling..i went with my gut..and my desire to get Happy, but not purely for the high, for the social element of it. To give it a go, at meeting new people and doing new things. It went really well, he was lovely, his friends were safe..we jammed. It was cool, a nice way to unwind.
With sexuality, this vast thing we have here infront of us, it is impossible for it to be black and white, gay and straight, just simply impossible. We as humans love too much for our love to be constrained to just one gender. I've thought this for a while, but its now developed a second element. This second element is this; we interact with others but only a few we get along with, truly understand. This may be due to nurturing whilst young or societal factors which cause animosity between known groups but unkown people, whatever the reason, it is true. It explains why we're friends with some and not others.
When we have this connection with someone, regardless of thier gender, it makes the foundations of a brilliant friendship. This connection is necessary for a substained sexual attraction to occur as, when the fire of attraction filters out [unless the sexual chemistry is absolutely mind blowing] there has to be something more. Sustained sexual attraction eventually leads to love. The blur comes when we don't know who we are attracted to, as attraction is such an abstract concept. Perhaps why people who wouldn't normally consider themselves to belong under the same sex attraction umbrella fall in love with people of all shapes, sizes, genders and sexualities. Perhaps even why i haven't ruled out the fact i may well one day be attracted to and fall in love with a male.
I had the sense of impending doom so i decided it'd probably be best if i did something constructive with my time..so i went and got Happy with this guy [and several of his friends] who i'd spoken to for perhaps..2 minutes at a night on Saturday. It might have been bad, but i had a nice feeling..i went with my gut..and my desire to get Happy, but not purely for the high, for the social element of it. To give it a go, at meeting new people and doing new things. It went really well, he was lovely, his friends were safe..we jammed. It was cool, a nice way to unwind.
With sexuality, this vast thing we have here infront of us, it is impossible for it to be black and white, gay and straight, just simply impossible. We as humans love too much for our love to be constrained to just one gender. I've thought this for a while, but its now developed a second element. This second element is this; we interact with others but only a few we get along with, truly understand. This may be due to nurturing whilst young or societal factors which cause animosity between known groups but unkown people, whatever the reason, it is true. It explains why we're friends with some and not others.
When we have this connection with someone, regardless of thier gender, it makes the foundations of a brilliant friendship. This connection is necessary for a substained sexual attraction to occur as, when the fire of attraction filters out [unless the sexual chemistry is absolutely mind blowing] there has to be something more. Sustained sexual attraction eventually leads to love. The blur comes when we don't know who we are attracted to, as attraction is such an abstract concept. Perhaps why people who wouldn't normally consider themselves to belong under the same sex attraction umbrella fall in love with people of all shapes, sizes, genders and sexualities. Perhaps even why i haven't ruled out the fact i may well one day be attracted to and fall in love with a male.
Sunday, 1 February 2009
Returning To Normality
When i was younger and the holidays had ended there was always the feeling of impending doom when i had to return to school. Inevitably. It's much the same now, just i live in a room and i've no telly to distract me. It's quite shit really. I wrote a portfolio entry just now and i thought i'd never be able to find ways to get better as the interview which i was writing about was so abismally bad that it felt like everything was shite.
But then along came the good old, "All Ears" acronym.
I'm going to meet this guy and get Happy with him. If anything, it'll be an adventure.
But then along came the good old, "All Ears" acronym.
- A - Acknowledge
- L - Legitimise
- L - Listen
- E - Empathy
- A - Avoid false
- R - Reassurance
- S - Summarise; "So we've talked about X, Y, Z, are there any questions you'd like to ask?"
I'm going to meet this guy and get Happy with him. If anything, it'll be an adventure.
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