Been feeling hot all morning. Bit sick and dizzy around 11 but a bit better now. Keep getting the shivers. Would like to curl up right here and go to sleep but I've got to be back at work in half an hour. I suspect it's a combination of it being an obscenely hot day, the fact that I finished taking the hormone pills a few days ago and torture will shortly be upon me again and possibly even tiredness, although I've slept like the dead these past two nights - oh, blessed darkness! Tonight, I will not go snowboarding. Tonight I will drag a blanket downstairs and curl up in front of the TV. Parents are abroad, sister will be spending the evening with her Useless Fiance. Home alone. Bliss.
(Despite wanting to whine to someone, I am the sort of person who prefers to be left alone when I'm not feeling well. I don't like "being looked after". So I'm more than happy to have an empty house.)
It was bingo. I've never played proper bingo before. It took four or five games before I got used to marking off the numbers and started to be able to look at what I'd actually marked and then after that, it got harder to concentrate on the numbers - I'd try and mark 73 when it was actually 37 or I'd just be unable to see the number I was looking for. We all came out with tired, achey eyes - how do people sit there and play this for hours on end? And why is there no food in the house now I'm hungry after drinking lots of orange and mango juice?
I have had a stuffy nose for about the last two months - not so bad that I can't breathe through it or speak coherently but enough to be annoying. And today, in a too-hot office, with the sore eyes that always happen when it's hot and a slight headache from heat and stuffiness - ugh. I have packed my Piriton so I can have a couple of spoons if I can't sleep but I might take it anyway in the hope of waking up able to breathe. I'm hoping it'll be better in Norway, between the cooler climate and not being trapped in a metal box for seven hours a day. It's not been a particularly enjoyable last couple of days - stress, insomnia, heat, tiredness and lack of any time to myself. I should have gone snowboarding last Thursday but it was the only night off I've had... well, pretty much in May, so I came home from work and crashed.
Huh. Didn't mean for this to derail into cries of "I'm so tired!". It's nice to be busy. Just would be nice to have time to not do much occasionally. Wish I could take some medicine tonight but 1) don't want to run the risk of getting addicted to this stuff, even if it is only OTC antihistamines (I am sufficiently petrified of addiction to refuse to so much as take painkillers for anything except excruciating period pains. Headaches - put up with it. Aches and pains from hiking/snowboarding/sleeping awkwardly - no tablets. And there's no particular reason for it either, I have no history of addiction, it's just an irrational thing) 2) It's packed in the bottom of my case 3) I need to be up at the crack of dawn and I have no idea how powerful the sedative side-effects are. I don't want to risk not being able to get up in the morning.
Anyway, we're now down to the last few things. Finding a good map at the correct scale so I can find my way around the two cities. Pretty much all the packing is done. There's still things like putting my cards in my travel wallet and packing my sunglasses - can't do either until I get home after the social tomorrow. And packing my phone, charger, hairbrush and pyjamas - all to be done when I wake up at ouch o'clock on Thursday. And food, but I need to go shopping for that on the way to Rangers. I have emptied my camera, I have put my writing and the entire first season of Boardwalk Empire on my (newly charged) netbook and packed the lot.
Now to watch the ash and quiver until I'm actually in the air (when I remember that I'm a slightly nervous flyer. Even I forget this. I look forward to plane journeys for months. I sit in my seat and bounce like a child and stare out of the window and adore both take-off and landing. I love flying. But when we're levelling off and the engines go quiet, I get twitchy. And when the turbulence is bad enough for the pilot to put the seatbelt signs on, I become convinced we're about to be thrown out of the air and die hideously. But if the engines are noisy and the flight is smooth, I love flying and I will sit there and be scornful of anyone who is nervous). I have decided that my next holiday will be to Iceland, armed with a very large cork. Damn them and their volcanoes.
Also, I am tired. I couldn't sleep Sunday night because my brain was dancing around singing about pirates all night and I woke up far too early this morning and didn't get back to sleep properly. And if I go to bed with the window open, it's too cold to sleep and I am forced to close it. But if the window is closed, I wake up at just-before-sunrise (which is quite early in summer) because I'm hideously uncomfortable without some fresh air, so that's been disturbing me every night for the last week or so. So I am quite tired, especially in the mornings, and therefore liable to uncharacteristic.
I cleared it out today so Sister and her Useless Boyfriend could both get in. Took forever. Three quarters of the clothes I own were in there. Four coats. Four pairs of shoes. Two pairs of gloves and a pair of welly liners. Ancient biscuits and massive sheets of sugar paper from our St Andrews evening at Brownies. Half-eaten chocolate bars. So much paper! My good suit jacket. A malfunctioning thermometer. Chunks of misshapen clay. The man at the garage yesterday got me to put as much as I could in the boot because if the MOT tester couldn't get at the rear seatbelt buckles, he had the right to refuse to do the MOT. I'm not surprised I broke the suspension, amount of junk I had in my poor car.
Anyway, the reason I had to put them in my car was that we went to see Pirates of the Caribbean 4. I liked it. I "and another thing"'d all the way home.
( Things I thought about it )
That'll do for rambling, not-going-anywhere thoughts on this film. Yes, it's just a summer blockbuster but yes, it was riotously good fun and I enjoyed pretty much every minute.
So I spent a few hours shopping. I have acquired two more big soft oversized men's shirts which are just brilliant for throwing over a t-shirt as a lightweight but warm extra layer, particularly when I'm travelling in chilly countries, like Lithuania in March or prowling the Arctic Circle in May... My sister is quite a bit disgusted by my taste but I like them. And besides, her taste in clothes tends to consist of a lot of visible flesh, which I really don't do. Except feet. There's a very pretty pair of trekking sandals in this months TGO magazine, red neoprene-lined Merrels which are gorgeous... and very much like my current trekking sandals which are blue-grey and still in very good condition and not in need of replacement. I fail at Being A Girl.
I have also acquired a bottle of Piriton. Not for summer allergies, because I don't have them but for emergency inability to sleep, for example when the sun doesn't set all night in Norway, or when the hotel is so noisy that I'm still awake at 6am crying from tiredness and frustration and subsequently getting mistaken for a drug addict when I venture outside again (this happened about this time last year) or when I'm in London. I don't think I have ever managed to sleep in London. The only thing is that I'm a little nervous that my brain will start pleading for the stuff the moment I get into bed tonight because it knows it's in the house and so on and so on. They keep Piriton behind the counter in chemists, so you have to ask for it. This was something of a major obstacle for me.But they didn't ask any questions or offer alternative suggestions.
The MOT took an hour longer than planned because of the unexpected surgery so I spent quite a while sitting in a park, watching the birds. Swans are massive when they're scrapping in mid-air just above the surface of the stream and they make a lot of noise with their massive flappy wings. There's a bridge having some major work done to it and they've attempted to block the stream underneath with sandbags and then some big tubes to let the water flow through. But six ducklings have got over the sandbags and ended up in the stream under the bridge. The water level is a foot lower there and they can't get back over the bags. Mummy Duck can get between the real stream and this enclosed bit of stream and she keeps popping over to see them but when I left, I think they were all beginning to get a bit upset. All the ducklings were making a constant sad peeping noise and jumping at the bags before drifting off a bit to have a splash and then try again and Mummy Duck had got all the boy ducks in the area to come and see. And there's nothing I can do to help. I can't climb down the wall into the river six feet below and lift them over. I can't find a big plank anywhere to make a bridge. I phoned the RSPB but their automatic switchboard said "If you have an injured or sick bird, please be aware the RSPB is not a welfare charity and can only offer limited advice." I've seen several men from the council observing the stranded ducklings so I hope they'll be rescued. Otherwise they're going to have to grow up in that enclosed spot until they're big enough to fly out like Mummy does. Or perhaps go to the other end of the blockage where I don't think the dam is so high. They'll be ok, I think. But it's not nice leaving them stranded.
Yeah, my baby's all grown up. Three years old, off for her first MOT in the morning. Twenty-three miles away, got to be there by 8.30 in the morning. On a Saturday! Don't I get to stay in bed even at weekends? And I've got to get up even earlier because I've got to locate the screenwash in the garage and then locate the right hole to pour it into under the bonnet. The night before the MOT! Honestly, car!
I wore my skyscraper heels to work today. They do look good, I have to admit. But they hurt! Driving was fun! I couldn't feel the accelerator! I could feel the car responding to me flexing my foot but I couldn't feel the pedal. They came off after less than 45 minutes at work, because they were - in a side-effect I was not expecting - making me feel sick. I think it was because of having my legs at an unnatural angle constantly. Something just didn't feel right and it made me feel not very well. Not to mention the fact that I can't get up or down stairs in them and just standing up and walking was an effort. And it pushed me up to 5'8"/5'9" and while I quite enjoyed the extra height, eye-to-eye with the guys and looking down at the top of the girls' heads, it also made me feel very giraffe-like and conspicuous. And I made a slight stumble in the car park on the damn things (with a witness!) and am now aware of a slightly odd stiff feeling in that ankle. I don't think for one moment it's actually broken. I don't think it's even sprained. But you know that slightly uncomfortable sensation when you need to click the bones, which is relieved by clicking the bones? The bones don't click.
And I should stop poking at my teeth. They were fine for years and now I fear there's not a one worth saving. Ugh. Hate my teeth!
Got to go to bed. Got to be up early.
Umm... that's about all I have to say, really. Maybe I'll think of something else later on, but never mind.
We had a couple of gorgeous assistance dogs in Brownies tonight, two golden retrievers. One very white eighteen-month-old, fully grown but not yet quite fully trained who was incredibly docile and lay on the floor and let fifteen Brownies play with him. One slightly more caramel-coloured ten week old puppy, who was equally happy to be played with but is still very small and very young and still likes to munch hands with her tiny little needle-sharp puppy-teeth. They were gorgeous.
My sunglasses arrived today. Green-tinted lenses. They don't darken things much but they really cut out the glare and they turn the world a very subtle shade of turquoise and I like them lots.
Damn, I'm sleepy! *rubs eyes*
(between myself and my mother, a teacher who is writing her end of year reports)
Mother: You know if you have a name? Like John?
Mother: If you were saying "John's reading", is there an apostrophe?
Me (disbelieving): Yes...
Me:... are you serious? Do you actually not know this?
Mother: The computer usually tells me!
Did I mention that this woman is a teacher?
(On the subject of eyes, I have also ordered a pair of red-tinted glasses as an experiment. A friend of mine used to have leopard-pattern frames with purple lenses and she adored her colours. Finally, I'm going to give it a go.)
( Trip to the doctor )
( Work. My sister has applied for a clone of my job. I turn a little bitter for a while. )
( My lack of really having a "dream job" )
And with that kind of cheap philosophising, I should be off to bed. I have slept extraordinarily well the last couple of nights. Got up early this morning and was on my way to the doctor at 8.20am, an hour at which I am often still asleep. Benefits of working one mile away from home; I can afford to be lazy in the morning and not get out of bed until 8.30 if I really want to.
It has been A Day. Didn't sleep brilliantly last night, although I suspect I did better than I realised at the time. So hard to judge time at night because it genuinely is difficult sometimes to tell whether I'm awake or asleep. I must have fallen asleep pretty soon after I put the laptop down and surprisingly, I've not been too tired today.
Didn't have time for breakfast and spent most of the morning feeling a bit icky because I needed food - until I got home at lunchtime and discovered that I felt a little sick and didn't at all feel capable of putting food in me. That lasted most of the afternoon.
On my way to Rangers, something went click. Suddenly the sick feeling just vanished and there I was, fifteen miles to drive, starving hungry and desperate for some bread and cheese. So I'm feeling much better now.
I think the problem was getting home quite late last night after Brownies and discovering the bread was mouldy (this is a common occurrence. I religiously check the bread for mould every single time I eat). Dad fetched more bread and I sat and ate six to eight slices in one go. Mistake! Far too late at night to gorge myself on toast. That's probably why I had odd dreams and couldn't sleep and it's almost certainly why I felt sick today. Lesson learnt; don't stuff yourself just before bed or it'll make you feel poorly for the best part of the next twenty-four hours.
And also, I'm finally in a better mood! I knew it'd happen sooner or later, it's just taken its time. I have regained my chirpiness.
And now I'm going to bed. I have quite a bit of sleep to catch up on.
It was hard yesterday (although having not slept yet, it still feels today; anyway, I mean Monday) to snap out of the miserable mood. Once I get a feeling lodged in my head, it's really hard to get rid of it, particularly when that feeling is that you don't have any friends. Just constantly going over and over it. Fortunately, my head can only really contain one persistent thought at a time and learning to be left-handed can occupy enough of it that there isn't enough space left for sad feelings. And then Brownies (have I mentioned recently what a cure-all they can be?) drove out all thoughts altogether. Brownies are brilliant for cheering me up. We did some skipping with them and by the end, we had two who had, through stubborn refusal to give up, pretty much mastered the art of jumping into the double-dutch ropes. They weren't so brilliant at carrying on jumping once they were in but they could get in and that was a joy to watch.
Then afterwards, me and Mandy compared upper arm muscles. I used to climb quite a bit at uni, I used to have proper muscles there (until someone attempted to feel the muscle. I am very ticklish. Someone grabbing my arm instantly reduces the muslce to squirming spider limbs) and although they're not as prominent as they used to be, yeah, there's still muscle of a sort there.
I am tired. I have dimmed my laptop as much as it'll go but the light is still really hurting my eyes and picking up a computer is a really, really bad way to tire myself out. I'm going to stop rambling, put it down and lie here listening to the birds chirruping outside. Don't know if they've noticed it's really quite dark indeed. Sparrows, blackbirds, martins and maybe the odd thrush, I think, judging by the birds I seen regularly in the garden. We also have a lot of pigeons and crows but I know what pigeons and crows sound like and the high-pitched chirruping outside my window definitely doesn't contain any cooing or squawking.
You can't depend on other people to make you happy and there are many things I can do myself to make me happy. To completely mangle a quote: "Life is what happens while you're waiting for other people". I'm not waiting for them anymore. I'm doing things and seeing things and it's very small-minded of people I called friends to say things like "You need to find a boyfriend... you sort of mess up the numbers." Fuck that. It's my life and I don't want a boyfriend in it. I will not conform to your petty little social statuses. You will not make me feel like an outcast because my life doesn't exactly match yours. And you know what? I've seen your life. It doesn't appeal very much. It seems to involve spending a lot of time sitting at home with a husband who doesn't strike me as a terribly interesting man and doesn't seem to even speak very much. (Not aimed at anyone in particular.)
Have you ever looked at the midday sun from halfway up a Transylvanian mountain you never meant to be anywhere near and felt glee? Have you ever shrieked in adrenaline-fuelled triumph while standing on a plank? Have you ever sat in a darkened room surrounded by strangers, unable to breathe because you're laughing so hard? Well, I have. And I wouldn't have done any of it if I'd waited for someone to come with me. Sometimes I'm "lonely", yes. But most of the time I'm "independent" or "free". And besides, it's not a crime to be a person who finds being alone more comfortable than being surrounded by people. It's not a crime to not be a people-person. As long as you're happy with that. And most of the time, I am. I came to terms long ago with the fact that I'm happier hiding in my room than I am at a party.
I know that I don't quite fit into any of the boxes you want to put me in. Is she a shy quiet meek little mouse? Yes! And yet is she a bold, pig-headed, too-fearless-for-her-own good bulldozer? Yes! Dreamer or doer? Yes! To both! Jenny once told me I was cool because I didn't care what anyone else thought of me. And that's something that a lot of teens think about themselves and they are sadly mistaken and for that reason, I don't entirely like the description. But I can't deny that there's a certain amount of accuracy in it. Whether or not you find that admirable is up to you. I'm not striding out there radiating "I'm weird! I don't care what you think of me!" because that makes me fucking cringe. But neither am I skulking around going "Please like me, I'll die if you think I'm weird."
The upshot of this all is that I am, like most people, a bit of a patchwork (and probably a patchwork in progress at that) and it's time for me to embrace that a bit, cheer the fuck up and not give a damn about whether or not my friends have got any time in their tedious little lives for me.
(Please note the shitehawk icon. I am pouring out words and emotions and not necessarily phrasing things how I might if I was trying to be diplomatic)