In Other News...

Letters to Hell...

Dear Fishfinger Boy,

firstly let us get one thing perfectly clear. Fishfinger boy is not an affectionate nickname on account of an amusing penchant for fishfingers on your part. You are Fishfinger boy on account of the fact that you have all the personality of a semi-defrosted one.

Now to the main point of our correspondence. I am sick and tired of having to dig six months worth of your dirty festering crockery out of the sink, everytime i want use it, due to your apparent clinical aversion to washing up. Sort it out, you lazy, scruffy twat!

Also, i don't like having to stay awake until 2am listening to you and your irritatingly whiney girlfriend having bad geek sex, six inches away from my head. Its just wrong!

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Dear Pompous Arrogant Knobface living in the room formerly known as Andy's,

Surprisingly enough, i am not deaf. If you are going to whisper about me to your exceptionally plain girlfriend... at least wait until i have left the kitchen!

************************************************************

God, i hate communal living.

That is all.

Bleeurgh

Good God i feel poorly. I swear i have been feeling sick for about six weeks now. I hate being me. (And no, i'm not up the spout, before anyone says anything).

I think i am just going to give up eating. I am clearly allergic to it.

Happily, i didn't get the Vomit-y dissertation title. Mine is about Anorexia Nervosa, which should be interesting.

I'm stuck with my Non-experimental project. Which naturally means i am pratting about on the internet waiting for some divine intervention, rather than actually working on it. I'm not stuck as such. I just have too much information in too many different papers, and keep forgetting what i read and where i read it and having to go through all the papers over and over and over... I could just make notes on the damn things but that would be far too sensible. My brain is in no mood to be making logical sense of things right now.

I just wanted to moan really.

Alone again...

Boy has just left for home, and i feel an overwhelming sense of loneliness now.

These ridiculously short visits are no good. I didn't even miss him that much before, but now i have seen him, and he's gone again, its a bit gut-wrenching... :(

Last night was good fun, even though about an hour before we were due to go out, i started feeling incredibly ill, and as such was highly dubious about eating or drinking anything for most of the night. Still, the company was excellent.

I went out for lunch with Daffyd earlier in the week, and have been feeling distinctly off colour ever since. I think perhaps i have had food poisoning from the pub. I suffer from emetophobia
and the thought of being sick is so incredibly hideous and panic inducing to me that i have actually managed to train myself to just not be sick. Ever. Which sounds good i suppose, but in fact it means that bugs i catch linger for weeks on end while my body tries to fight them off or they work their way out of the other end... Whereas someone less freak-ish might just throw up and feel better within the day. Hence the sudden emergence of illness last night anyway. A bottle of red wine and a chicken Bhuna seemed to cure it after a while anyway...

The new guy living in Andy's room is a bit of a pompous arse.

That is all.

In other news...

I have had a very busy and productive first week back. Well busy by my standards, not by a normal person's...

I have had lectures and tutorials and project meetings... I have revised my opinion on GH slightly. He is still incredibly annoying and ineffectual, but the levels of hatred towards him have subsided a little, and i am feeling less stressed out about the whole lack of meaningful project results thing. The general opininon is that rubbish results means lots of things to moan about in the discussion section. So i guess i'll have to go with that.

I have finished my registration portfolio and handed it in. I don't care if GH wants me to do anything else to it now, quite frankly i never want to see the damn thing again.

I have started writing my non-experimental project! Its coming along quite nicely so far, although i am quite blatantly going to max out the word count...

I have chosen my dissertation titles and handed in the request form. I doubt there was much point in bothering, since the usual favourites will get their first choices and the rest of us (i.e. me) will end up with the crap that is left. Though to be fair, there wasn't an awful lot to go on to begin with... I give you Exhibit A:

Vomiting- A valuable defence, or just an irritating symptom of disease?

I ask you. Who the hell wants to write five thousand words about vomit? Oh the joys of Biomedical Science.

I bet i get that one. I bet you.

The Boy is coming down tomorrow! I can't wait. Birthday Celebrations Mark Two are occuring tomorrow night. Boy, Katie, Maz, Ann, Dave, Joey and me are going for a curry in Newcastle. I am really looking forward to it. I think this is the first time in about three years that i have organised something and people have actually bothered to come. Maz is down from Manchester for the weekend and is staying with Gill. Hence i am recieving substantial guilt trip from her about not inviting Gill to come too. I admit it is a little awkward for her, but i'll be damned if i'm going to invite Gill when can't fucking stand her! Plus if she came then the whole sorry Korfing Crew would have to come. And then i would have to drown myself in a Korma or something.

They are such hypocrites. They never bloody invite me anywhere (not that i'm bothered, i wouldn't go because i can't stand them... but thats not the point!) I could drop down dead in my room and not be seen for weeks and Phil and Mike wouldn't notice. And Gill and Fake-Cough are just plain ignorant. I don't know how Gill has the cheek to expect to be coming. But anyhow...

I korfed tonight. Only for an hour, thankfully. Exercising was a bit of a culture shock after all the time off i've had. During training, i managed to bang my head twice, doing exactly the same thing both times... As if i didn't feel bad enough already... I think i am probably concussed now...

Mum is nagging about when i am going home again already. Which confuses me slightly, since she never seems that interested when i am there. Sigh.

I don't really have anything interesting to say, so i'm going to stop now.

Black Dog

A little while ago, someone directed a comment at me, which has been playing on my mind ever since.

It went along the lines of "depression is a disease that you never recover from, get back on the medication"

For as long as i can remember i have been unhappy. My parents both abused me, emotionally and to a certain extent physically, at various points throughout my youth. It never really registered that they had done any lasting damage. I've always seen myself as just not a very cheerful person. Some people are cheerful a lot, and can see the bright side of life. Some people get angry and stressed and dwell on the negative points of life. That's just the way it is.

The thing about negativity is that it accumulates. Irrational and derogatory thought patterns are easily fallen into. And once you're in that place, you become vulnerable to all the mind-fuck the world cares to throw at you.

About two years ago, i came to realise that the state my head was in at that point in time, life was literally not worth living. Bullying is unpleasant from anyone. But the bully in your head is the most vicious and relentless of all, and mine was working overtime. I had always thought that depression was something other people had. I thought that if i told someone i was depressed, they would laugh in my face and tell me to stop being a silly little girl, that only grown-ups had depression. To a certain extent, i still fear that reaction, particularly from my parents.

In reality, noone laughed in my face. Doctors were helpful and sympathetic and friends were concerned and upset. I took the antidepressants and i felt better. My little pool of serotonin filled up again. After about a year, i stopped taking them.

Some people think antidepressants are dangerous, addictive, mind altering drugs, which have no place in the effective treatment of mental illness. Other people apparently think they are an emotional crutch.

I think antidepressants have a perfectly valid role in the treatment of mental illness, and their use shouldn't be discounted because of public misconception and hysteria. But i don't think that a diagnosis of depression should necessitate a lifelong prescription. This notion that depression can never be recovered from seems incredibly defeatist to me.

I for one certainly don't intend to spend the rest of my life being a slave to my serotonin levels. The thought patterns, they still need work. But its do-able. Sitting back and saying "oh well i'm depressed now, thats it forever, pass me the pills". Just seems a little strange to me.

I know i don't make much sense. Feel free to contradict.

Airheads are us...

Jo said to me today:

"I hope i get an interview for that Microbiology post... i've seen some really nice trousers and a top on Asos i could get for it... *squeal*..."

Yeah 'cause, you deserve to get the job...















Bitter, moi?