Back to work time
08.01.07, 5:28 pm
Right, so enough moping about rubbish ME and rubbish anxiety gig. Time to get better from said afflictions. Yesterday I began my fascist hardcore routine of strict sleeping slots, decent diet, lots of water, no afternoon sleeping*, gentle exercise and constant activity to prevent me from a) realising how tired I am and b) getting a chance to stew and get anxious. I�m also stopping the Herbal Happies intake, because I don�t think they�re really doing a lot of good and I�m usually happy enough anyway. And I also want to go on the Pill.
* So hard I can�t even express it in words. I�ve realised that I only get anxious when I�m so exhausted I don�t know what day it is, which happens between 2-4pm every day without fail. This is great, except I can�t stop this tired thing, so I don�t know how I�m meant to fix said anxiety gig when it�s dependent on a condition that has no cure. That ME�s always one damn step ahead, much like Pigeon in Stop The Pigeon.
It has to be said that despite all the things that I regularly say about my dad, he is being fantastic during this huge anxiety gig meltdown that I�m just recovering from. He�s finally realised how serious the whole thing is, which I guess is understandable after hearing about it for an hour from your on-the-verge-of-tears daughter at half past five in the morning on New Year�s Day. Unfortunately he has been talking the whole thing over with bloody Ladyfriend, but I�ll let him off as he�s being so nice. However, he�s buggering off to Mexico for a fortnight tomorrow with his mate from work, which means I�ll soon be receiving a jaunty �Everything�s just lovely here� postcard. Not that I don�t love the Shef, but come on � Sheffield or Mexico?
All things Scottish are going really well at the moment � I haven�t said anything too idiotic or fucked up in any way, other than the usual load of crap that I regularly come out with, i.e. �Matchmakers� hmm, they�re kind�ve like non-savoury Twiglets, aren�t they? Hang on, no, no they�re really not.� Haven�t told him about the anxiety gig yet, mainly because I�m ashamed to but also because to do that I have to talk about where it�s stemmed from, and I haven�t told him about Bernie or my mum yet. The whole subject�s a good 45 minutes of talking and it�s so much more fun to just talk about Desperate Housewives instead. I�m afraid to report that I�m starting to fall in regards to the Scottish One, so will be entering the world of angst, heartbreak and turmoil once again. I know, I can�t wait either. Life would not be the same if I weren�t angsting away in this thing at every available opportunity.
Went to see the new James Bond with James last night (I know, three million years after everyone else). Daniel Craig is no Timothy Dalton, but he can fill my sandwich any day. And then today was the first day back at work � I must geekily confess that I thoroughly enjoyed it, not least because I spent most of the morning chatting to Indie Chick and Mini Boss about the weird herbal sleeping tablets I tried the other night that gave me weird hot flushes and waves of pins-and-needles. Okay, they were past their best before date, but I figured they were only herbs, except herbs apparently turn into POISON when they�re 6 months out of date.
I feel I should plug Ciaran out of loyalty, so please look out for him in the new series of Shameless tomorrow� think he�s playing the character Mickey. I�m off to phone Mel, as she�s back from South Africa and we�re due an incredibly long phonecall. Oh, final piece of news: Lisa�s decided to stay at Linda�s for an extra week so I�m still batting solo. I haven�t yet decided if I�m annoyed or not, but I think I generally am. Surely the point of living with someone is that you actually see them from time to time? Not that I�ll be saying that to her, because exam season is coming up and I don�t want to have my head eaten.
last - next