Sick of it all.
5th December 2007.
I am getting very, very sick of being sick. And the warm weather isn't helping. Stupid phototoxic drugs and drowsiness that becomes unpleasant when heated.
The heat has had a surprise benefit today - it has masked the faint sick person smell in my room with the strong smell of baking parafin. A decorative candle I've had sitting in my windowsill due to lack of anything to do with it has metamorphosised into a blob creature (much resembling myself).
Last week I found myself getting grumpy at one of my friends for apologising for being a bad friend to me. I had a weird urge to respond along the lines of, go be happy I'm a shit person to be friends with anyway. And it's true, I am. All I do is complain about all the meds I'm on and how much they are messing with me; make not funny jokes about what pain I'm currently in; and share pointless anecdotes about the public humiliation of wherever I last fell over with an audience. Basically I'm a waste of people's time.
On that note, I've been attempting to spice up my being social (before I drive Alana crazy). On Saturday evening I went to Camilla's graduation/farewell dinner. I'm going to miss her, and wish I'd made more of an effort to get to know her properly as a person (rather than as an extension of Bridget). The dinner was nice, and I made with the conversation and felt like shit but made a passable job of hiding it - only Julie calling me on it. I was also weirded out thinking that someone was hitting on me, but that was probably just my drug addled brain messing with me. I got home and swore I as never going out again, especially not when already feeling a little off. So Sunday night, head already feeling off I trundled off to Bruno's birthday party. Yes, I am an idiot. I actually had a pretty good night, and enjoyed catching up with people I hadn't seen in ages (like Carla and Ian) for the pain it caused to be worth it, mostly.
Monday I lay in bed alternating between naps and watching Heroes and Avatar (Ian and Carla having given me some more of both). I felt like arse, so much of the day went to napping and feeling ick.
Tuesday, having mostly recovered from galavanting I spent the day at home blobbing and talking about nothing in particular with my flatmate, Tristan.
Today, after much lazing, I went to the English postgrad end of year function. It was fun, but again quite pain inducing. I may actually have to swear off gatherings.
11th December 2007.
Not much to say for myself recently. I've mostly just been in bed, sleeping or reading children's stories. I, in fact, just finished Pullman's The Subtle Knife. I should have read the series years ago, I think I would have enjoyed them more then. They are good, but I think I missed my window to properly enjoy them.
On Friday night I went to dinner and then the animated Beowulf with my father and brother. Best movie of Beowulf ever. By which it is still crap, but less crap than all the rest (well, unless you count Thirteenth Warrior).
Saturday I felt like arse, so wasn't too bothered when Alana had forgotten I was supposed to visit. Bed being abotu the only place I felt like being. Sunday was better. I swam with Meg and I went to my grandparents for dinner - where I was subjected to birthday presents and cake. Too much sugar.
My neopet is 2,800 days old today. For some reason this is depressing.
13th December 2007 - Lucy, V. and Mart.
Tonight I'm celebrating my 30th birthday. I booked a table at the restaurant and everything. A bunch of people have cancelled on me, but that is probably a good thing as I suspect I invited a bunch more people than I had booked for. My memory isn't at its best, so who knows.
Apart from that, my birthday is lame even by my birthday standards. I'm feeling rather mank and kind of wishing there was some way I could fail to turn up without people noticing.
I went to town today to get a haircut and buy a couple of things. Nothing I had planned happened, I ended up just wandering around and buying falafel for lunch. My brain is pissing me off.
Anyway, I should go see if my flatmate is out of the bathroom yet, I really should shower and get to this thing (I really hope he hasn't decided to take a bath - it would be inconvenient but not unheard of).
24th December 2007 - Vigil.
I just woke up from a nap mid-anxiety attack with only the vaguest idea of the dream that had brought it on. My brain is a worrying place. It then occurred to me that I've not written in theis beast in a very long time. Due to the fact I've seen Simon three times since I last wrote, it must have been about six months (while still technically only being eleven calendar days).
My birthday party was pleasant and reasonably quiet. Pretty much everyone I wanted to be there (and were in Dunedin at the time) made it. And I only almost fainted once.
Since then I realised that between being in pain all the time, and thus eschewing human company, and the phototoxic meds I'm on exacerbating my need to avoid daylight I have become a creepy shut in. It has become not unusual for me to go the better part of a week without actually physically talking to anyone beyond the mutual acknowledgements of existance exchanged when passing a flatmate in the kitchen or hallway. While this hermitage (shamelessly ignoring the meaning of the form and re-coining inappropriately from the root) is clearly doing things to my mental health, I'm pretty certain that none of them are good things.
I did go try to be social the Saturday after my birthday. I had been invited to three things that night and felt like crap. So I went to the welcome back BBQ for people I was glad had left, that way my feeling like arse making me unpleasant was only making me unpleasant in the company of people I didn't actually want back in my country. Thus I missed Lizzie's christmas party - being unpleasant at Lizzie and co. would have made me feel bad afterward. I briefly went to the third thing on the way home, but as a teetotaller these days the significantly drunken failed to make for engaging company and I ended going home rather quickly. Quicker still as a guy who recently upset my ex was there and I was having vague urges to violence. While my being overprotective of Tina and unforgiving of those who hurt her is endearing, being the same way about someone I used to date is sad and tragical. That said, it's not even a drop in the ocean of my sad-and-tragicality.
The week since I mostly spent at home, though did go to Oliver's work Christmas party (admittedly by the time I got there, basically everyone left I knew as most of the staff had drunken stumbled home already). Other than Bridget organising an open debate about my bad personness, it was a pretty good night.
Last nigth I went around to Simon's so he could put my new hard drive in to my computer for me. As always happens, my computers never behave, so I ended up leaving it to him and he dropped it back to me today. I feel I probably owe him more than the bag of M&Ms that I gave him in thanks but I suspect he'd prove reluctant to accept further gifts of gratitude.
I should go make dinner, otherwise I'm going to eat more junk and just end up sick before Christmas has even got here.
25th December 2007 - Nativity of Our Lord Jesus Christ.
So tired and grumpy. The whole day of family christmas has left me burned out and irrational (ranting, quite ungratefully, about crap at Simon - which he has done nothing to deserve. I'm bad people).
Too much family has pushed me into full crazy mode. Though I did get a lot of crap. Some good stuff, for which I am very grateful - but a lot of stuff I have no use for which just adds further clutter to my life. My life has too much clutter.
In happier news, in the gaps in my crazy sleeping pattern I have been reading Jasper Fforde (after years of people suggesting him, Simon lent me the first book and got me on the way). Damned entertaining.
28th December 2007 - Holy Innocents, Martt.
Sleep being disturbed by random insane anxiety attacks is becoming tiresome.
They started the night my computer was at Simon's. This was a good thing, timing wise, as otherwise I'd have sent my ex an email that wouldn't have been appreciated. Dream logic as a starter, followed by 3am anxiety thinking. By the end of it I had 'logically concluded' that every heart ache my ex has had in the last nine years is entirely my fault. My fault for having not been good enough. If I'd been too awesome to dump then none of it would have happened. Come morning, I realised I was being an insaneo. But at three in the morning it seemed pretty darn sensible. Since then every other night I've woken up with some irrational bit of dream logic eating away at me.
It's not making me happy. Not just because of the crazy, but also as it seems to be the product of pain (everytime it happens, it has been the pain rather than the dream that has woken me).
Maybe I need more drugs (though I suspect the vivid dreams are possibly brought to me by my friends at Roche).
Otherwise, not so much to say for my life recently. I've mostly been lying around home feeling arse and recovering from Christmas. My friends who I had planned New Years with appear to have changed plans and skipped town already without telling me. This may be an oversight, or they may be passing through again before the big night. I shall have to wait and see.
I did make it to town with eh plan of spending Christmas gift vouchers a plenty but ended up spending only the book voucher my grandparents gave me for my birthday (on DVDs of the first two series of Outrageous Fortune (ex-shortland-street-tastic)).
I should sort dinner, but lunch made me feel gross, so I may just eat a whole pile of raw pineapple. That's a healthy meal....
31st December 2007 - Silvester, Bp. and Conf. Middle lessons of the Nativity of Our Lord.
I don't know if it is the being sick or the meds, but yesterday I came over all embarrassingly emotional fucktard and in the process I think I managed to mostly piss off Simon (who, for reasons of being the only friend I currently feel all the comfortable unleashing that sort of crap on, bore the brunt). Upside, I think I covered my near breakdown rather well and made it mostly just come across as being a stupid mentalist freak.... Wait, I'm suddenly not sure how that is better.
I'm a tool.
Which is no surprise to anyone.
On Friday night my father came down to town, so on Saturday afternoon (after catching up with Michiel - in town for the very damp folk festival) I went to see The Golden Compass with Dad and Andrew. It's just not the book. And the CGI is a bit overdone in places it could have been easily done without. That evening I caught up with Oli, and now have New Years plans.
Yesterday/Sunday, I went swimming with Meg and then spent the day at home napping and being a crazy. Ah, the life I lead....