Reasons why today sucks

  1. It is my first day back at work after having 9 days off. Getting up in the morning again was a total bitch. So much so that I failed totally. I dragged my sorry ass out of the mound of warmth that is my bed at about 9.45 and didnt make it out of the door until about 10.15am. So, only about 1 and a half hours late. Fortunately, a) my line manager is off this week. No supervision. No guilt. b) Where I work is very flexible. I have timetracking software and as long as everything balances out at some point nobody really blinks. I still stress about lateness though.
  2. The heating at work is broken, and summer appears to have ended early, after a brief one week appearance. It is cold. I do not like the cold. I do not like it with a fox. I am tempted to go home and be warm, but again with the guilt.
  3. Did I mention it’s the first day back?
  4. The summer has gone away somewhere, leaving only coldness and rain.
  5. The holiday has left me not refreshed and invigorated, full of energy and new ideas, but questioning what kind of a future I want, and if my job is going to work in the long term.

So, thats the negative.

I realise I need to counter this awfulness with some clever neuron-pathway creating positivity, and avoid old patterns of seeing only the negative, so I will attempt some chicanery to convince myself that all is well and the above mumbling and moaning is meaningless.

Reasons today is wonderful:

  1. The project I work on has had its funding officially extended until end of september. I will not be out of work at the end of this month, which was a real possibility and has been weighing me down a lot, although I have avoided it totally depressing me. I have another 3 months to figure out where my life is going to go next!
  2. Having trouble thinking of more points so can I resort to stock answers such as, I have a roof, a wonderful partner, erm, I don’t have any kind of life threatening disease (that I’m aware of).
  3. Stuff, is er, great.
  4. I like this cheddar and plum chutney sandwich I am currently eating. It makes a pleasant change from the usual chicken and bacon related sandwich I usually opt for when faced with the sandwich choice paralysis at the store.
  5. I am going home soon. (although when I do get home I have the kids staying overnight, so not much relaxing will be done. Maybe thats something to go in the sucky column, but then if I put my kids in the sucky column I am a Bad Father, so can’t do that. Kids are tiring and painful for one such as me, but never a chore, oh no. Honest, I would miss them if I never saw them. It’s just, they have too much energy and make me painfully aware of how little I have…)
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funeral music

[audio:igaer.mp3]
(Sigur Ros – í gær)

Yes, long time, blah blah…ten dollar doesn’t get you far these days.

I was listening to Sigur Ros and thinking what great stuff it would be to play at a funeral. Is that morbid? I think not….funerals are generally sucky things, and made all the more sucky by the pallid, and uninspired crap that gets played as the bodybox is shunted behind the curtain.
Think about it, Sigur Ros… gentle, contemplative, with a thrumming edge of possibility, building to a crescendo of RAHHHHH-ness.
I’d like to think death is like that.

It probably isn’t. It’s probably very disappointing.

A thought that often crosses my mind, randomly, is that life may well be all we have, and death may be total shite. A gobbet of thought that as inspired countless movie plots, and erm, soap operas. Generally, it provokes someone to a new lease of life. That realisation that what we have, here now could be it, so why not seize it? Fear nothing…

Trouble is…I think that, and then just, well, can’t be arsed.

Life. It is not like the movies.
If anyone would like to volunteer to be my scriptwriter, it would make things easier.

Imaginary computer people, you’ll never leave me will you?

(Where did you all go….)

I have abandoned the blogging for a while now…mostly too much time at work and then too much time with C when I’m not at work. It’s been mostly wonderful. I haven’t missed writing out my miseries in this sodding thing, although I have missed the comraderie of the melancholic brigade. We pour out our anxieties, our twisted silent screams, our failures to fit into this world that absolutely nobody fits into, even though most of the time it feels like everyone but us fits in. And there’s acceptance. Understanding.
Granted, mostly we accept and understand because we don’t have to spend any actual time in each others presence because then we’d no doubt just annoy the hell out of each other. Nonetheless, the acceptance and freedom to blurt out our pathetic fears without wreaking judgement and criticism is nice.

Tonight is not a good night. I am having a silent fight with C.

You know those?

I guess you either do or you don’t.

She was kind of manic when I got home – I was kind of tense after a day of reading intensely boring research and a way too stuffy office which made me feel like I was living in some kind of fever dream.
Seriously it was about 2 degrees C outside, I had the window wide open, and I was still slowly baking to death.
The radiators must be powered by some kind of top secret fusion reactor.

I digress. Probably because I don’t want to talk about this, but if I don’t get it out I will surely implode.

C gets kind of brusque and impatient when she is being a little manic. with me anyway. She generally manages to be very polite and charming with other people, but with me, its mostly the impatient, not a huge amount of consideration for our emotional ties, and my immense insecurities and emotional issues. My problem she would no doubt say. Maybe so.

Anyway. I was trying to explain to her what I had found out during my hours of tedious research, and she was being all terse and impatient, and I was getting all defensive, not in any way prepared for anything other than a warm and welcoming partner after a depressing day. I tried to say she was being all spiky, and she responded with saying it was all in my mind (which is pretty much guaranteed to annoy me, and by now she must know that), and that didnt go down well at all. I would be the first to admit that I am prone to emotional messiness, but when C gets manic, her mood changes, she gets slightly aggressive, curt, bullish and impatient. She tries to make out that I am the only person in the world who has ever witnessed this. That everyone else finds her charming and terribly efficient. She points this out in a way that is designed to make me feel confused about my own perceptions and that my opinions are ill informed and pretty worthless.

This of course is somewhat infuriating.

When C is manic, she doesnt seem to care much about the effect she has on me. Its just me and my inability to deal with the world and my insecurities. She is of course flawless.

I am too shaken by this to want to have a fight. I am already pretty depressed by a day of boredom. I spend the evening in agony at our seperateness, wondering why my feelings matter so little. She spends the evening chatting to a friend and playing a game online.
Obviously, I am the loser here. I end up more depressed and miserable. She is all dandy.

Often I find it impossible to talk to C about my depression, my anxieties and idiocies because she just pushes through such things, doesn’t ever have them in the first place or has techniques to deal with them. I don’t like listening to myself talking about stuff that she finds so easy to push aside, or feelings that are alien to her. Her way of dealing with my problems often leave me feeling worthless, more depressed, or worse, trigger deeper emotions that set off defensive anger, that she retaliates to with soul destroying effectiveness. I can’t fight with her, because I already feel worthless. I have lost before I begin.
If I can’t share my fears and insecurities with my lover without fearing it ending in feeling worse, or a fight, then what is going wrong there?

Sure you can look back, If it means moving on

Sure you can look back
If it means moving on
And you can take me back
But you must come home
We are both a in maddening cloud

[audio:miserybutterfly/008maddeningcloud.mp3]
(Blonde Redhead – Maddening Cloud)

Been a while huh?
Admit it, you missed me…

Really. Its been like 2 months or something. You must have noticed.

Whatever…

I apologise for my absence for those of you who have come to enjoy my stumbling efforts to make sense of my world. Or just steal my salsa recipes and claim the glory for yourselves (you know who you are).
As one or two of you already know, life happened, and I have been busy with living, rather than writing about living. I enjoy writing about living, but recently its been changing so much, and so many changes are going on in my mind that I have been at a loss as to how to describe how I feel, or what the changes actually are.
I say that as if I have somehow reached a point where I can describe it. Alas, you are to be disappointed.

I can’t recall what I have said or not said about recent events in my life, so a quick recap…started new full time job in June, wife left same week to move to different part of country. Spent couple of months learning to work full time again after 5 years self employment. All I pretty much did during this period was get my head together, work, and pay the rent and the large pile of debts I had accumulated. I drank some…I reconnected with friends. I breathed again, and thought a lot. I recognised how much happier I was out of the marriage. I moved on a whole lot.

Then I had a visit from a new friend. It was supposed to be a short visit, a few days…
She is still here.

That time has been spent in a crazy blur of discovering another person, discovering myself, discovering what love actually is, and what it is not. There is so much more I could write, need to write, but finding the time and the right words is so difficult. The process is ongoing, and wonderful, and stressful and new.

I just wanted to get this post out of the way because its been sitting in my drafts for weeks, in one form or another, and I need to break the logjam. I have stuff to say.

And you can touch me there
Just don’t leave me alone
And you can call me softly
When I dream and ask for more
You can slow and fold and mold my mind

And she said
I can’t feel my toes
And she must be alone
And far too cold

And he stares
Like he doesn’t see
He must be scared
And far too lost

Under and over
We must have glanced
Face to face
We’ve had to dance
We’re both in a maddening cloud

Sure you can step back
If it means moving on
And you take me back
But you must be alone
You can choke and smoke and rock my mind

Pit of Evil

Facebook. It is pure evil.

I try to avoid these things, and have done for a long time. Not because I am snooty, and aloof (although I certainly am), but because I know me, and me is terrible, terrible at getting anything done when I am aware of such things, and they keep winking at me, with their messages and updates and ‘your friend has put on a new pair of socks’ notifications.
I am bad enough with blogs when I am online, checking the feeds every half an hour to see if anyone has posted or commented.
Facebook brings whole new realms of timewasting pointlessness. Now I can keep track of people who I havent even bothered talking to for 10 years. I am somehow titillated by the minutae of a total strangers existence.
Is it simply because I am feeling lazy and fuzzy this week, or am I just a layabout, plain and simple?

I managed to stay off myspace, although largely through my horror at the aesthetics of the place. I couldnt spend more than 5 minutes there without flipping into some hellish trauma over the 1995 web stylings and flashing pink wallpapers. No no no no. Make it stop.

Facebook is for grownups. People who take timewasting, and pointless chit chat and call it ‘networking’. Now we have a valid excuse for arsing around online all day. We are facilitating business liasons.

Anyone for facebook chess?

Simulacra and Simulation

[audio:donotwanthis.mp3]

Sometimes, only sometimes, you realise that the map you use to find your way around your mind is of equal size and complexity, and possibly even containing more layers and levels than the plane you try to exist upon at any given time.

That one we call reality. You might have noticed it.

I am nihilistic and twisty.
Sometimes there is a core of anger in me that rises with no reason at all. Self-hatred, futility, weakeness. Bitter fucking hate.
I hide it well. I take it away from those I care about. Or try to. Which is ridiculous because the only thing that can stop it is to be held until the anger has no fuel.

Sadly when I am like this, I don’t let anyone near me.

So instead of bothering people, instead of asking for help, I will drink, and pretend I am fine, and it will be buried, and squashed down, into that layer of silt at the bottom of my mind. God help me if if gets disturbed by some giant footstep some day.

Tasty beer. You will never leave me…

The original is unfaithful to the translation.
(Jorge Luis Borges)

No one leaves magic mountain

[audio:inbetweendays.mp3]
(The Cure: Inbetween days)

I have literally no idea what is going on in my mind right now.

Its almost amusing, how blasé I seem to have become about, well, everything.
I spent so many years simply surviving, lurching from one horrible phase to the next, that this ever-increasing not-miserable period has imbued in me a sense of ‘what the fuck’…I’ve been in the shit, and I survived, and yes it smells bad, but I can survive it. Why bother emerging from the shit simply to spend your life dodging shitpools?

Alright, so I am not terribly eloquent today. I don’t care…I aint here to impress you lot with my highbrow repartee.
Here have some Dylan Thomas, should keep you quiet…

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light…

(Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas)

[audio:feelinggood.mp3]
(Muse: Feeling Good)

And I think you all know where I’m coming from now…

What do you mean ‘haven’t got a frickin’ clue mate?’ I bare my soul, and you just sit there picking your fingernails? Heathens.

Ok. Look. What am I saying? I am having a hard time concentrating. Its been a busy week at work, I seem to keep accumulating more and more side projects because I am hyperfocused and hyperactive at work, so get at least 5 times as much done as would be expected of me.
Its also a dark moon weekend. This messes me up quite a lot. Normally a dark moon will make me quite emotional and prone to melancholy, but throw in hyperactivity and it seems to blend up into a big jazzy frothy intense brain blowout confusion smoothy.

I need to calm down. I am making coffee.
Those two don’t seem to go together do they?

I have no control over myself at times like these. Its when I most understand what manic-ness must feel like. I do whatever I feel like, I lose all caution and could care less about consequences.

Fortunately these moods last only a short time. I’m sure this one will have dissapated by the morning, or possibly the start of the week, it being a dark moon.

I have coffee. I have no idea what I was going to write about when I started this post. Thats awful. Another casualty of manic me. My short term memory, never the best in the first place, falls apart completely.
Strangely, I feel tired as well. Tired and manic. Is that normal? I can’t even remember if that is normal or not now. I can’t remember anything, ahhhh, who am I? Whats going on?

Fuck it. I’m giving in…

I might edit this when I come round.

At magic mountain
Nothing changes
Everything stays the same
Cross my heart
And hope to live
All the time
With a little fever…
(Magic Mountain:Blonde Redhead)

Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die


We choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them
Kahlil Gibran:

the suicideI was planning to write something worthy, to provoke discussion…It’ll have to wait.

Last night my wife sent me a series of text, most notable of which was her mentioning that she was probably going to kill herself. This followed some passive aggressive (always passive, because then she can deny ever actually accusing you of anything) accusations, blame and bitterness.

So in one fell swoop, lay on the guilt, blame me for her current position and then off herself, thus leaving me to live out my life bearing the weight of someone taking their own life because of my actions. Nicely done. Well played there.

Of course, I can’t panic and fly into emergency mode, because suicide is not an uncommon card for her to play when she is low. She has never actually tried it, so all I can do is put this down to another episode of melodrama, and hope she pulls through… And she still blames me for giving up all hope of us being together? Me, who can barely cope with my own head, never mind living with someone who can spin from passive subservience to vitriolic psychosis in one day.

So…I wait, and hope she doesn’t actually go through with it this time. What else can I do? To react would just give her another weapon to use against me. Teach her what gets a reaction. Encourage her to use it more.

This is why I gave up on us. I cannot live with this constant trauma -the uncertainty, the stress, the emotional storms. I am too weak. Everything you are makes me more and more ill. I am sorry I ignored your flaws, and tried to love you despite them. I should have walked away and not let you believe in me. I am not strong enough.


In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on
Robert Frost:

Experiments and Observations on Different Kinds of Air

This post was originally a comment, from the last post, in reply to a comment from PA, and it might not make any sense in parts, but I figure, why waste a load of words on a comment, when I can recycle it as a post and save myself some bother? Energy efficient that is… Go with it. You know you want to. 

The newest computer can merely compound, at speed, the oldest problem in the relations between human beings, and in the end the communicator will be confronted with the old problem, of what to say and how to say it. – Edward R. Murrow

I did a template change in lieu of actually writing anything.
I feel bad for not writing, but then, I wonder why? In case I lose the two or three people who occasionally check my blog? Kind of pointless really. Its not why I started a blog, but theres always that pressure isn’t there? To entertain…It kind of spoils it for me. And I have lost a sense of that community with some of my favourite bloggers going quiet, or just plain vanishing. Everyone seems quiet recently.
And of course I am busy with work, so can’t afford to spend a whole day spilling my guts onto a page. Or rather, preparing to spill my guts, and then spending an hour actually translating the spillage into words ;)

And., there’s the depressive guilt that always comes when you’re actually feeling okay, and not really that depressed. I feel like I shouldn’t write about good things because it will just piss off everyone I know in the whole world because everyone I know is manically depressed, bipolar, suicidal, or otherwise generally hacked off with life.

Pole to Polar has blogged recently about the whole Top Trumps of madness scenario (does Top Trumps work as a metaphor over the pond? Not sure) so I won’t linger too much on that. The ‘I am madder than thou’ one upmanship. I feel faintly embarassed at feeling relatively ok. But I shouldn’t, because I’ve struggled to get to a state of stability for so long, and I’ve sacrificed so much to get here.
Speaking of Pole to Polar, they blogrolled me a while back, but never ever answer any of my comments or acknowledge my presence in their electronic world. I find it a bit spooky. I get paranoid. Am I just saying really stupid stuff and being ignored? Theyre not a huge responder to comments like some bloggers, but I’ve seen a fair few responses to other people, but never to me. Maybe they’re scared of responding to me? Maybe I am looking at it the wrong way…maybe they think I am weird and don;’t respond in case it encourages me ;) But then why blogroll me?
Oh, I don’t know. These are the tiny tiny details that slightly worry mentalists even when they’re reasonably stable. I don’t wake up in the night screaming ‘why won’t they talk to me!’ but you know…it nags doesn’t it…

communication

It brings me neatly onto another topic that has been nibbling at my cortex recently…the whole blog thing…now I can really only see the point of blogging if you get comments, and you respond to comments, and you can actually have a meaningful debate between intelligent people. Just blogging, and getting nothing back, to me, is a bit pointless. Yes ok, it gets the thoughts out, but I am looking always to growth and progression, and I know full well that listening only to myself and my own points of view is limiting and will only lead to me thinking a load of utter mad nonsense. We all need other voices to drag us (kicking and screaming) back to ground zero, the centre of our mentalist wanderings. We, especially need dialogue because we are all prone to those madcap Pirsig-like blinkered voyages into proving the world is round using only the power of our minds.
You (PA, still talking to you yes) have a fair amount of commenters, and respond well, and therefore get some discussion going, when you’re not blogging about stuff that people don’t know what to say to of course. You have been blogging for a good while now, you blog, well, a lot, and have built up a number of readers, some from the medical sector, some from the mentalist sector, some from the kinky lesbian freak sector ;) etc.
Thats basically what it takes to get a goodly amount of commenters. That and doing a lot of commenting yourself.
And I think being female is good, as its reasonably rare for guys to bother commenting on other guys blogs. Don’t know why…I do it, but it is quite rare.

I am losing the thread…
Erm. Anyway. I want more discussion on my blog. But I don’t blog enough, I have no way of attracting enough intelligent people here, and it all seems a waste of time. And the people I like are the very people who just explode and then disappear. Regularly. Its a pain.
Ok. Fuck it. I just posted in the comments section. At least that way I won’t attract any more readers! You have to be really fucking dedicated to check the comments section of a 2 week old post! Well, check the latest comments list anyway. Which I do at all the blogs I read, but I don’t know how many people do.
you see, I’d love to ask a load of questions about how people blog, and how they read, but I’d get maybe two answers, so it would just be depressing. Maybe I should just do guest blogs on a more popular and hip blog. Steal an audience…
Minx? Dame? You need a blogger? )

The more elaborate our means of communication, the less we communicateJoseph Priestley