one year on ·
14 July 09

It’s been a year since I last blogged on planet blogtardation, I guess I am a contributor to blogtardation. Actually I don’t really know what that means. I should probably read up what it meant, then used it. But hey, I’m a chancer, so I take risks, I’m too cool to read things up. I read things down, ya dig?

There’s a repeat programme of a reality TV piece. It’s about getting “well off” folks into southern-Asia and making them work in factories and do labour work in the fields. There’s like one Asian guy in there who’s a total fucking knob end. I mean, not only is it a token gesture, they picked an idiot to go with that gesture. Yes, may be they’re all “qualified” to enter the show, but honestly, I guess if I was to be objective, they picked the bitchiest cretins, some of which have pro created or are that juncture no doubt. There’s fuck all on TV, and I just finished watching a double episode of The Wonder Years, which has been my one good deed for the day.

It’s like an excess waiting hall. The excess is you, and it’s left in the corner of the building which is adjacent to the entrance/exit door. For ages I’ve been walking over there with shit to get off my mind, as it’s been a trying year. I went from illness to treatment, to college and now possibly University beckons.

My mind is still a forest of confusion, the branches go everywhere, and the animals hide wherever they can find cover from me. I’m cutting down the forest, but no matter how hard I try, it comes back bigger and fuller. It’s a place where I can’t do anything to organise or sort. It’s not like a postal office, it’s worse. I don’t know what goes where, and how to get it from A to B to end that puzzle. My thoughts run so fast that I feel compelled to imagine that I can catch them. Think of a roll of film where if you shine it under a light you can actually see the pictures on the film. Now imagine millions of reels and they all have a story to tell and picture to show, I’m trying to grab them, but they move so fast that I can’t.

One of the reasons I haven’t written for a year is not because I’ve been particularly busy, but because my sessions of therapy, I believe, were very constructive for the most part, and I get things off my mind during these sessions. This isn’t to say that I had everything solved, far from it, but I’ve made massive leaps and bounds since this whole thing kicked off. The writing became unimportant, as my therapy developed, my meds were increased, and although I didn’t feel any better, I felt I was still writing my journal inside of my head after anything significant happened. Such as some psychological break through or revelation. That the voice that haunts me is my own voice, and wants to do me harm, or harm others around me.

I wish I could just dip my hand into my mind and pull out all the crap I’ve accumulated and remove the mess, and organise my brain in a way where my head does not hurt for hours at a day. I take paracetamol for this, as I do get headaches a lot. I’m not sure what the cause is, maybe I ought to have it checked out, I dunno, it’s not really a priority.

So I am being passed on to a new team, a more local team and with less weekly visits, and more-like once a month if that. It’s probably a good idea, as I felt semi-dependent on the team to help me. It was a case of college from Mon-Fri and then therapy on Friday at the end of the day. Then the weekend would be used to recuperate, until Monday when the whole thing started again on a Monday.

To be honest I am slightly concerned that people won’t be keeping an eye on me, I think it’s because I’ve shown a lot of grit studying at college. I mean I’m 29 now, and just going to Uni. I’ve had a tough year where several times I felt I was breaking down, I was losing my mind again, I couldn’t sit in class for long, I was missing days during weeks where it was important to attend. I wanted to quit plenty of times, but I kicked myself in the ass, and believe me that’s quite a tricky proposition, but it worked and I passed.

Since I’ve been away from my closest friend, I’ve made new ones, that don’t drink, don’t do drugs, and it’s a clean and sober lifestyle I’ve lived on and off a year. I only socially took drugs and alcohol when I was with my mate, but with these guys it was sobriety, and I didn’t mind it. In fact I kind of welcomed it, because I was spending too much on drugs and booze, more on the drugs than the booze. Since I haven’t gone to my friends place, I’ve saved over a grand, which would normally go towards the use of drugs and I would probably be down to half or a third of that. Clean living isn’t so bad.

My personality has suffered, however, as I’m not as sharp as I used to be. I think this is down to the medication I’m taking, which kind of causes a mild for of retardation I guess in that it stops my brain from releasing too much of a chemical in my brain (I Have a chemical imbalance they tell me), so I think that includes things like my imagination and creativity. Of course it could just be that I am becoming retarded as I get older and have lost my wit and humour. I hardly laugh at anything now, and I can’t tell when I do laugh if I’m laughing for a reason, or laughing because I meant to be laughing. Does that make sense?

I don’t get many emails from the site, but I do get some, and they’ve all been pleasant and friendly. It’s nice that someone get something out of what you’ve written. Some sort of insight, or a look at things that you may or may not agree with. I’m sure now that someone somewhere will come across my site and read this and say “Hey I got a negative thing to say”. Which I don’t mind at all. But I should say thanks for your comments, you really didn’t have to do it, but I appreciate the gesture.

God, Uni, it’s such a daunting task. It means moving if I want to go to a semi-decent Uni, or I could stay here and go to the local one. It would mean my Uni debt of £7k per year (first year) for the next 4 years would be halved if I went locally. The degree I leave with won’t be as good, but it will be a degree and I think that is the point after all, right? Well fucked if I know, I’ll probably end up at some house of horrors type Uni where they lop the heads off of newborn babies, and drink the blood of virgins after disembowelling them from tree branches. I’ll probably need a gun. A big one. And some snacks, cuz I would get hungry I think. Pretzels make my mouth dry.