I have a horrid feeling that my last post read like I was having some kind of psychotic breakdown. Rest assured, my mental state, whilst a little fragile at the moment, isn't so volatile that I'm about to go on a shotgun wielding, kill crazy rampage. My destructiveness extends only to myself. Obviously that doesn't mean I'm about to jump of a bridge either. I'm making things worse now aren't I?
Anyway, over the last 24 hours my mood's been very up and down, but I think I'm probably over the worst of it, at least for now.
I've written a hell of a lot of posts for somebody who, only yesterday, was going to give up on the whole blogging thing all together. I felt so differently then, almost like I was a different person. God, I was trying to write this post to show how much better I'm feeling; right now I seem to be insinuating that I have multiple personality disorder.
Right, I'm going to wrap things up now, before I end up suggesting that I'm suffering from every single kind of mental illness in the book. By the way, my next post will be this blog's 100th. I don't have anything special planned for it, but I just thought I'd mention it.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
What's wrong with people?
Every time I leave the house and go to my local shops, the people out there, on the roads and in the shops, upset me. I hate this place; I hate the people with their small minded, me-first selfishness. Nobody cares about anybody else.
Just up the road from me is a junction with two lanes. Just beyond where you wait at the traffic lights the left hand lane is usually filled with cars, so there’s no real point in starting off in this lane. Of course people do. They do it all the time and force their way out like the selfish little shits they are. That happened today. Some cock in an Audi A3 (Audi drivers really are the new BMW owners) pulled up alongside me. I knew what he was going to try to do. He wanted to force his way through. He wanted to skip the queue. And I thought, Fuck you. I’m not letting you through. You’ll have to learn to be patient. Join the right lane and don’t be a prick. I put my foot full to the floor and didn’t change into third, but the fucker had a faster car than me, and he wasn’t backing off. I had to break and let him through. My desire to prevent an accident was greater than his desire to not cause one. What the fuck is wrong with these people? If I hadn’t braked sharply he’d have rammed into the back of the first parked car. Maybe I’m in the wrong too. Maybe I shouldn’t try to impose my belief system on somebody else.
But I fucking hate this town. It’s full of arseholes. Nobody gives a crap about anybody else. Shopkeepers are rude. They don’t say hello, they don’t say thank you. A good deal of them don’t even tell you what the total is when it’s time to pay up. They just sit their wordlessly, expecting to hand over your cash without any kind of prompt. I walk up to a till, smile and say hello, but I get nothing in return. Half the time they barely pay any attention to me; I feel like I’m just interrupting them, I’m just another thing that gets in the way of them talking to their colleagues in a language I don’t understand. No wonder I feel so isolated at times. I don’t understand most of the conversations that are going on around me. I firmly believe that one of the things that cause the most division between people of different cultures is an inability to communicate. How can we begin to understand each other’s cultures and ways if we can’t understand the words that they are saying? Sometimes I walk into a shop and just feel unwelcome, like I’m not a part of the community that should be there, so I’m treated like a 2nd class citizen. I’m friendly, I’m polite, I’m even nice, but still nothing.
In truth, there is no real community around here, just disparate sets of people, each with their own agendas’ and a mutual distrust, and even hatred, of anybody who doesn’t belong to their small minded, insular, clique.
I just can’t live here anymore. I try to treat everybody as an equal, regardless of whoever they are. I treat everybody with the same courtesy that I’d expect to receive in return, but I get nothing.
I use the self service tills at my local Tesco now. I feel like the level of customer service I receive from them is way higher than I’d get from any of the lazy, uncouth, till jockeys.
I live in a main road where I constantly hear the sounds of cars as they go by. So frequently I’m forced to endure the “Boom, Boom, Boom” bass sound coming from some inconsiderate little noise polluting shit’s car stereo. Why be such an obnoxious little prick? Why do something that’s only real purpose must be to infuriate others. Why be like that?
Like I said, every time I leave this house and don’t head straight for a tube into Central London, I encounter someone whose behaviour disgusts me. Actually, one night, whilst I was taking the five minute walk from my local tube station, some disgusting piece of excrement appalled me. Right in front of me, just as I was about to pass him, the foul bastard gobbed into my path. I can’t stand people who spit. It’s disgusting and there’s no need for it whatsoever.
I truly believe that if everybody was just a little bit nicer, a little bit kinder and a little bit more polite to each other, the world would be a far better place. All it takes is a few words; Say please, thank you. Smile at each other. Wave to show your appreciation when someone lets you through when you’re driving. A little bit of consideration. That’s all I want. I just need everybody to display the tiniest bit of empathy. I said earlier that language can create a barrier between people, but communication isn’t just about words. It’s about attitude, it’s about demeanour, it’s about all those little gestures, both conscious and subconscious that show you care.
It doesn’t take much, but still, they don’t even try. I may feel these things more deeply than most, but I’m willing to bet that this sort of thing has a cumulative effect. When people mistreat each other, no matter how slightly, it has an effect. It seeps into your soul, making it rot away until all that’s left is the fetid corpse of your own morality.
Do something nice for someone, treat someone with respect and they’ll remember it. Then, maybe they’ll do something good for someone else. The cycle can go on and on and on and on and maybe, given time, the world will end up being just that little bit more bearable.
Just up the road from me is a junction with two lanes. Just beyond where you wait at the traffic lights the left hand lane is usually filled with cars, so there’s no real point in starting off in this lane. Of course people do. They do it all the time and force their way out like the selfish little shits they are. That happened today. Some cock in an Audi A3 (Audi drivers really are the new BMW owners) pulled up alongside me. I knew what he was going to try to do. He wanted to force his way through. He wanted to skip the queue. And I thought, Fuck you. I’m not letting you through. You’ll have to learn to be patient. Join the right lane and don’t be a prick. I put my foot full to the floor and didn’t change into third, but the fucker had a faster car than me, and he wasn’t backing off. I had to break and let him through. My desire to prevent an accident was greater than his desire to not cause one. What the fuck is wrong with these people? If I hadn’t braked sharply he’d have rammed into the back of the first parked car. Maybe I’m in the wrong too. Maybe I shouldn’t try to impose my belief system on somebody else.
But I fucking hate this town. It’s full of arseholes. Nobody gives a crap about anybody else. Shopkeepers are rude. They don’t say hello, they don’t say thank you. A good deal of them don’t even tell you what the total is when it’s time to pay up. They just sit their wordlessly, expecting to hand over your cash without any kind of prompt. I walk up to a till, smile and say hello, but I get nothing in return. Half the time they barely pay any attention to me; I feel like I’m just interrupting them, I’m just another thing that gets in the way of them talking to their colleagues in a language I don’t understand. No wonder I feel so isolated at times. I don’t understand most of the conversations that are going on around me. I firmly believe that one of the things that cause the most division between people of different cultures is an inability to communicate. How can we begin to understand each other’s cultures and ways if we can’t understand the words that they are saying? Sometimes I walk into a shop and just feel unwelcome, like I’m not a part of the community that should be there, so I’m treated like a 2nd class citizen. I’m friendly, I’m polite, I’m even nice, but still nothing.
In truth, there is no real community around here, just disparate sets of people, each with their own agendas’ and a mutual distrust, and even hatred, of anybody who doesn’t belong to their small minded, insular, clique.
I just can’t live here anymore. I try to treat everybody as an equal, regardless of whoever they are. I treat everybody with the same courtesy that I’d expect to receive in return, but I get nothing.
I use the self service tills at my local Tesco now. I feel like the level of customer service I receive from them is way higher than I’d get from any of the lazy, uncouth, till jockeys.
I live in a main road where I constantly hear the sounds of cars as they go by. So frequently I’m forced to endure the “Boom, Boom, Boom” bass sound coming from some inconsiderate little noise polluting shit’s car stereo. Why be such an obnoxious little prick? Why do something that’s only real purpose must be to infuriate others. Why be like that?
Like I said, every time I leave this house and don’t head straight for a tube into Central London, I encounter someone whose behaviour disgusts me. Actually, one night, whilst I was taking the five minute walk from my local tube station, some disgusting piece of excrement appalled me. Right in front of me, just as I was about to pass him, the foul bastard gobbed into my path. I can’t stand people who spit. It’s disgusting and there’s no need for it whatsoever.
I truly believe that if everybody was just a little bit nicer, a little bit kinder and a little bit more polite to each other, the world would be a far better place. All it takes is a few words; Say please, thank you. Smile at each other. Wave to show your appreciation when someone lets you through when you’re driving. A little bit of consideration. That’s all I want. I just need everybody to display the tiniest bit of empathy. I said earlier that language can create a barrier between people, but communication isn’t just about words. It’s about attitude, it’s about demeanour, it’s about all those little gestures, both conscious and subconscious that show you care.
It doesn’t take much, but still, they don’t even try. I may feel these things more deeply than most, but I’m willing to bet that this sort of thing has a cumulative effect. When people mistreat each other, no matter how slightly, it has an effect. It seeps into your soul, making it rot away until all that’s left is the fetid corpse of your own morality.
Do something nice for someone, treat someone with respect and they’ll remember it. Then, maybe they’ll do something good for someone else. The cycle can go on and on and on and on and maybe, given time, the world will end up being just that little bit more bearable.
A lost post
OK, so this was a post I was working on whilst I was on the train from Kings Cross to York.
“Well, I'm having to type one handed with my screen at a weird, backwards angle, but I'm still managing to come to you live from a train bound for York. Why, you might ask, am I going to York? Well, I'll tell you. I'm off to a Stag Weekend. One of my friends is getting married in a couple of weeks. Oddly enough, it's only the second wedding of one of my Uni mates that I’m attending.
Anyway, it's been a little more than a week since my last post[meaning the post about the break up email], and I've calmed down an awful lot. In truth, as soon as I hit the “publish” button all the bitterness and vitriol drained away. To be honest, and you may have guessed this from my last post, I really wasn't all that in to her. She was fun to go out with, sure, but we were far too different for there to be any real future in it. Actually, to tell you the truth, a lot of what I wrote was sort of designed to make me look a little more wronged than I actually was. I'd had a fair few thoughts about calling it off with her in the preceding couple of weeks before I received her email. Actually, I know that I made a bit of a big deal about being broken up with via email. A lot of people, could, made mention of the fact that it was quite a bad thing, and, at the time, I agreed. In actual fact, it didn’t bother me all that much.
I can't type on the train, it's too cramped. I'll have to wait until I get to the station to finish.”
Of course, I didn’t get round to finishing it. I ended up in a pub called “The Maltings”, reading “Dawn of the Dumb” by Charlie Brooker whilst I waited for one of my friends to arrive on the 4pm train.
As a little post script to all that, this girl and I have been trading emails for the last couple of weeks, so I guess everything’s cool there. She’d suggested meeting up again as friends, and, for the record, I think she’s pretty sincere. Like I said, in itself, it wasn’t a big thing, but I think that it has had some sort of effect on me, deep down. Ultimately, whilst I really do think that it was a good idea to stop seeing her, it’s possible that, in a far more general sense, things not working out affected me more than I realised.
“Well, I'm having to type one handed with my screen at a weird, backwards angle, but I'm still managing to come to you live from a train bound for York. Why, you might ask, am I going to York? Well, I'll tell you. I'm off to a Stag Weekend. One of my friends is getting married in a couple of weeks. Oddly enough, it's only the second wedding of one of my Uni mates that I’m attending.
Anyway, it's been a little more than a week since my last post[meaning the post about the break up email], and I've calmed down an awful lot. In truth, as soon as I hit the “publish” button all the bitterness and vitriol drained away. To be honest, and you may have guessed this from my last post, I really wasn't all that in to her. She was fun to go out with, sure, but we were far too different for there to be any real future in it. Actually, to tell you the truth, a lot of what I wrote was sort of designed to make me look a little more wronged than I actually was. I'd had a fair few thoughts about calling it off with her in the preceding couple of weeks before I received her email. Actually, I know that I made a bit of a big deal about being broken up with via email. A lot of people, could, made mention of the fact that it was quite a bad thing, and, at the time, I agreed. In actual fact, it didn’t bother me all that much.
I can't type on the train, it's too cramped. I'll have to wait until I get to the station to finish.”
Of course, I didn’t get round to finishing it. I ended up in a pub called “The Maltings”, reading “Dawn of the Dumb” by Charlie Brooker whilst I waited for one of my friends to arrive on the 4pm train.
As a little post script to all that, this girl and I have been trading emails for the last couple of weeks, so I guess everything’s cool there. She’d suggested meeting up again as friends, and, for the record, I think she’s pretty sincere. Like I said, in itself, it wasn’t a big thing, but I think that it has had some sort of effect on me, deep down. Ultimately, whilst I really do think that it was a good idea to stop seeing her, it’s possible that, in a far more general sense, things not working out affected me more than I realised.
Getting Better
Well, I’ve been out of it for most of the day, but I did, relatively randomly, start to feel better as night fell. I say randomly, but I suspect that there’s a reason behind it. I’ll do a little research and let you all know what I’ve found out.
I just wanted to thanks everybody for their support. I’m kind of puzzled by “Anonymous”, because, to be perfectly frank, I know exactly how to think and feel. In many ways that’s the problem; I know what I think (though, at times I may express myself a little guardedly or perhaps mildly inarticulately) and what I feel seems to depend greatly on my brain chemistry at any given moment. Actually that’s started to make me question the difference between thoughts and feeling. Are thoughts a conscious, cognitive process whilst feelings are purely involuntary and unguarded? I really should have studied psychology; at least I’d have a faint idea about what I meant. I’ll look it up later. Anyway, that’s kind of going off on a tangent.
I have a very clear idea of who I am and what I want; I’m just a little unsure of how to make all of that work in the real world. Not only that, the depression plays a part in making me not want to even try. It makes me want to fail so as I can quench it's thirst for misery.
So that’s the difficulty I face. I have to deal with the little bio-chemical bastard that whispers bile in my ear.
All I can say is that, right now, I feel better. Not 100%, but better.
I just wanted to thanks everybody for their support. I’m kind of puzzled by “Anonymous”, because, to be perfectly frank, I know exactly how to think and feel. In many ways that’s the problem; I know what I think (though, at times I may express myself a little guardedly or perhaps mildly inarticulately) and what I feel seems to depend greatly on my brain chemistry at any given moment. Actually that’s started to make me question the difference between thoughts and feeling. Are thoughts a conscious, cognitive process whilst feelings are purely involuntary and unguarded? I really should have studied psychology; at least I’d have a faint idea about what I meant. I’ll look it up later. Anyway, that’s kind of going off on a tangent.
I have a very clear idea of who I am and what I want; I’m just a little unsure of how to make all of that work in the real world. Not only that, the depression plays a part in making me not want to even try. It makes me want to fail so as I can quench it's thirst for misery.
So that’s the difficulty I face. I have to deal with the little bio-chemical bastard that whispers bile in my ear.
All I can say is that, right now, I feel better. Not 100%, but better.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
A break
This may be my last post for a while. I'm not feeling good at all. I've come to the conclusion that I can't get a good job because I'm just not bright enough for the things I want to do. I can't write as well as I'd like, I'm not as intelligent as I feel I should be.
I tried to solve a maths problem I saw on the internet today, but even after I was presented with the solution, I didn't understand it.
For much of the day I've done absolutely nothing. I tried to apply for a job, but I just couldn't do it. No application I've ever done has ever led to any work, so why bother. Besides, I'm not sure I even want the job. I don't even know if I could do it anyway. At the moment I just can’t seem to do anything.
I get bored, very quickly, with repetitive, administrative tasks, but I don't know if I'm really capable of anything more. Of course, I can't even get that sort of job since employers can clock that I'll find them tedious. Actually, about 15 months ago I got turned down for a job working at a company in Ealing for exactly that reason.
I don't think I'll ever manage to realise my potential, but then my potential falls just a little short of anything worthwhile anyway, so there's probably little point anyway.
So, I fall between the cracks in the employment market. I don't fit in anywhere.
I don't really fit in anywhere in the wider sense too. My values and beliefs seem at odds with the world at large. I'd explain that at greater length, but I just can't muster up the energy. Basically I don't understand why most people are so unkind, so unpleasant. I don't understand why the world is so oriented towards greed. Why do people become so obsessed with acquiring wealth? Why do they wish to have dominion over others and subjugate them to their will? I can't stand authority. I can't stand it when people try to tell me what I must do or how I should behave. I have my own set of rules, my own set of guidelines and morals. If I stray from those I usually punish myself enough by feeling shitty about it.
I’ll be back. Maybe not before too long. Maybe it’ll even be tomorrow. Who knows how I’ll feel.
I tried to solve a maths problem I saw on the internet today, but even after I was presented with the solution, I didn't understand it.
For much of the day I've done absolutely nothing. I tried to apply for a job, but I just couldn't do it. No application I've ever done has ever led to any work, so why bother. Besides, I'm not sure I even want the job. I don't even know if I could do it anyway. At the moment I just can’t seem to do anything.
I get bored, very quickly, with repetitive, administrative tasks, but I don't know if I'm really capable of anything more. Of course, I can't even get that sort of job since employers can clock that I'll find them tedious. Actually, about 15 months ago I got turned down for a job working at a company in Ealing for exactly that reason.
I don't think I'll ever manage to realise my potential, but then my potential falls just a little short of anything worthwhile anyway, so there's probably little point anyway.
So, I fall between the cracks in the employment market. I don't fit in anywhere.
I don't really fit in anywhere in the wider sense too. My values and beliefs seem at odds with the world at large. I'd explain that at greater length, but I just can't muster up the energy. Basically I don't understand why most people are so unkind, so unpleasant. I don't understand why the world is so oriented towards greed. Why do people become so obsessed with acquiring wealth? Why do they wish to have dominion over others and subjugate them to their will? I can't stand authority. I can't stand it when people try to tell me what I must do or how I should behave. I have my own set of rules, my own set of guidelines and morals. If I stray from those I usually punish myself enough by feeling shitty about it.
I’ll be back. Maybe not before too long. Maybe it’ll even be tomorrow. Who knows how I’ll feel.
Monday, March 09, 2009
Isn't Technology Marvelous
Thank Christ for Sky Plus
My mood has been lifted by the opportunity afforded the little hard drive under my telly. I've just watched QI(technically QI XL, the extended edition) and, throughout the show I was in stitches. I'm rather a fan of the show anyway, but this particular edition focused on film, a subject with which I'm particularly enamoured.
Obviously, what with the show being staffed by superb brainboxes (and Alan Davies) it initially gave me something of an inferiority complex, but I soon got over that.
It's also reminded me of something said about mental health issues. He once remarked that manic depression was the best sort of depression to have because, whilst you were crippled by the lows, you were more than adequately compensated by the manic highs, enabling the sufferer to indulge in all sorts of creative flights of fantasy. It's a shame then, that I suffer only from the common, garden variety of depression which puts me in a mindset where I'm completely unable to get on with anything at all. Oh, if only I were bi-polar.
Of course, I could have just as easily used iPlayer, but my point would be much the same; technology is fantastic.
My mood has been lifted by the opportunity afforded the little hard drive under my telly. I've just watched QI(technically QI XL, the extended edition) and, throughout the show I was in stitches. I'm rather a fan of the show anyway, but this particular edition focused on film, a subject with which I'm particularly enamoured.
Obviously, what with the show being staffed by superb brainboxes (and Alan Davies) it initially gave me something of an inferiority complex, but I soon got over that.
It's also reminded me of something said about mental health issues. He once remarked that manic depression was the best sort of depression to have because, whilst you were crippled by the lows, you were more than adequately compensated by the manic highs, enabling the sufferer to indulge in all sorts of creative flights of fantasy. It's a shame then, that I suffer only from the common, garden variety of depression which puts me in a mindset where I'm completely unable to get on with anything at all. Oh, if only I were bi-polar.
Of course, I could have just as easily used iPlayer, but my point would be much the same; technology is fantastic.
I'm not checking out.
I may have overstated the suicide bit; I don't think I'd ever do that, but I do feel extremely low and my Mum really is exacerbating things.
I don't want to upset her but I can't make things magically happen. If I try to pursue everything she says I'll just end up becoming more and more unhappy.
She walked in to my room and told me that the first thing I had to do was find a job. Moments later, she came back and told me that the first thing I had to do was eBay all the old magazines I found in the loft. She then told me that I couldn't write all day (which is what I want to do), I could do it at night. Of course, when I said I was going to write, all I meant was top write job applications, eBay sales and a few articles to send to magazine in teh hope of getting some work.
I can't stand being told what I can and cannot do.
She things that I spend 12 hours a day in bed. The truth is, I naturally can't sleep until late. And could you blame me. I go to bed late so that I can have a little peace and quiet, some time to myself without the moaning and the shouting.
The irony is, I was going to spend my day doing all of those things, but I can't stand being ordered to do it all. Her constant sniping and moaning just makes em feel awful; so bad that I just can't deal with anything.
I need to get out of here. I just can't stand it anymore. I just want to be around somebody who's supportive, but I'd settle for being left alone. She's gone out shopping so I've a few moments to myself. I actually called her and asked if she wouldn't mind picking me up a couple of cans of Spaghetti hoops. I got moaned at. "Oh, so you want me to get your shopping for you whilst you stay in bed all day." I just can't stand this.
So, nothing gets done, and it's all her fault. I feel like I need to go away somewhere for a few weeks where I can have some peace and quiet and just be allowed to do things my way. Without that I'm just going to go nowhere.
I don't want to upset her but I can't make things magically happen. If I try to pursue everything she says I'll just end up becoming more and more unhappy.
She walked in to my room and told me that the first thing I had to do was find a job. Moments later, she came back and told me that the first thing I had to do was eBay all the old magazines I found in the loft. She then told me that I couldn't write all day (which is what I want to do), I could do it at night. Of course, when I said I was going to write, all I meant was top write job applications, eBay sales and a few articles to send to magazine in teh hope of getting some work.
I can't stand being told what I can and cannot do.
She things that I spend 12 hours a day in bed. The truth is, I naturally can't sleep until late. And could you blame me. I go to bed late so that I can have a little peace and quiet, some time to myself without the moaning and the shouting.
The irony is, I was going to spend my day doing all of those things, but I can't stand being ordered to do it all. Her constant sniping and moaning just makes em feel awful; so bad that I just can't deal with anything.
I need to get out of here. I just can't stand it anymore. I just want to be around somebody who's supportive, but I'd settle for being left alone. She's gone out shopping so I've a few moments to myself. I actually called her and asked if she wouldn't mind picking me up a couple of cans of Spaghetti hoops. I got moaned at. "Oh, so you want me to get your shopping for you whilst you stay in bed all day." I just can't stand this.
So, nothing gets done, and it's all her fault. I feel like I need to go away somewhere for a few weeks where I can have some peace and quiet and just be allowed to do things my way. Without that I'm just going to go nowhere.
I've had enough
I've tried out Twitter, and frankly, 140 characters isn't long enough, so I'm probably not going to bother with it anymore.
I have woken up this morning with a headache (again). Last night I was feeling anxious and depressed. I had pains in my chest which seemed to have returned to me this morning after my Mother started, as soon as she saw me, moaning at me about getting a job. So far she's suggested that I work part time at Sainsburys or join the army. So, it seems that she wants me dead. I'd kill myself after a stint at a supermarket or be killed by a hail of bullets or blown to pieces by a suicide bomber if I joined the armed forces.
I would like a job, yes, but I can't just keep getting rubbishy ones to placate my Mum. That's all I've been doing for the past few years and it's just getting me nowhere. If she simply wants me to continue my cycle of misery then I'm just going to have to check out of this life for good.
How on earth does it help me to have her say that I'm making her miserable? Does she not realise that by saying that sort of thing she'll simply make me feel worse and thus less capable of actually improving my situation?
I was at a friend's stag do this weekend and, presuming that I make it through the day, I'll jot down some of my thoughts about that in a future post.
But truly, I've had enough.
I have woken up this morning with a headache (again). Last night I was feeling anxious and depressed. I had pains in my chest which seemed to have returned to me this morning after my Mother started, as soon as she saw me, moaning at me about getting a job. So far she's suggested that I work part time at Sainsburys or join the army. So, it seems that she wants me dead. I'd kill myself after a stint at a supermarket or be killed by a hail of bullets or blown to pieces by a suicide bomber if I joined the armed forces.
I would like a job, yes, but I can't just keep getting rubbishy ones to placate my Mum. That's all I've been doing for the past few years and it's just getting me nowhere. If she simply wants me to continue my cycle of misery then I'm just going to have to check out of this life for good.
How on earth does it help me to have her say that I'm making her miserable? Does she not realise that by saying that sort of thing she'll simply make me feel worse and thus less capable of actually improving my situation?
I was at a friend's stag do this weekend and, presuming that I make it through the day, I'll jot down some of my thoughts about that in a future post.
But truly, I've had enough.
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