Saturday, 27 August 2011

Frustrating Friday

So, I'm sat here in my pants wondering what the hell was the point of yesterday.

I got up a bit later than I normally do so felt a bit groggy. In the past I have spent days on end in bed only getting up for bodily functions and a bit of food - that's when the Black Dog was really giving me a bad time but recently I have found that I can't stay in bed after I've woken up as it causes horrible headaches. This is a good thing.

I procrastinated for a few hours on Twitter before I finally went into town to pick up my parcel. I went in the usual door to pick it up. I was first in line but had to wait about 5 minutes for the postman to finish a phone call apologising for some Royal Mail cock up or other. He looked at my card (which I remembered to bring this time. Yay me.) and said 'Oh, you can pick that up from the main post office.'

The system had changed.

Off I toddled to join a queue. When it was my turn 'cashier number two please' disappeared to fetch my parcel from behind the scenes. I have no doubt in my mind that she got it from the same room I was in earlier as that is where all undelivered items end up. Why couldn't the first postman have got it? He was in the same room as the parcel and that is the way it always used to be.

After that I popped round to a friend's house and a had chat for a while then went home. After some food I figured that I should crack on with some work but, again, I got caught up on Twitter and decided work could wait. It got to 6:30pm when I suddenly felt extremely tired and bored and pissed-off. So I went to bed.

I surfaced again at 11:00pm feeling hungry and not at all refreshed. Food and more Twitter followed along with some TV. What a waste of a fucking day. This kind of thing happens all the time and I am totally fed up with it. I always take the easy option and sit in front of the computer because it is just too much effort to do anything else.

I'm turning into a right old fatty. I eat as if I worked hard all day like someone with a real job. Must get more exercise - even going out for a walk everyday would help and not only with physical health but mental health as well. Last summer there was a day when I woke up at about 6am and felt fantastic. I couldn't wait to start the day - I literally leapt out of bed and thought 'I'm going for a walk'. I plotted out a five mile loop and I was on my way. It was glorious. The birds were singing and the quality of light was just beautiful. The rest of the day went well and I got a lot done.

For the rest of the week I was up and out on a different walk and really enjoying it. I walk with friends on Saturdays and by the end of the day I had racked up over 30 miles that week. I didn't go out on Sunday but was looking forward to Monday.

Fucking hell. What was wrong? Monday morning came and all I wanted to do was die.

It felt like I was buried alive - tons of earth pressing on my head but I wasn't suffocating: I was going to be there for an eternity struggling to scratch my way out and not knowing if there was a foot of earth above me or a mile. It makes me shudder even now to remember how that felt. I stayed in bed for about two or three weeks avoiding contact with everyone. Just the thought of speaking on the phone made me feel panicky.

Yes, yesterday was a bit shit to make me think of that again. Saturday needed to be a much better day. I was damn well going to make sure it was.

Here are the highlights of yesterday's browsing history:

Piers Morgan Is A Dick To Penn Jillette via @robinince:

It's the Friday Puzzle! via @RichardWiseman:

Nervous system articulation of a prosthetic hand via @element14:

Bountiful Books: 13 Incredibly Intricate Historic Libraries via @RichardWiseman:

Promenading on BBC2 via @timminchin:

Wonderputt via @pcpro:

Bloodhound Bottle Rockets - Bang Goes The Theory - BBC One via @bbcbang

Marco Tempest: The magic of truth and lies (and iPods) via @UKSKEPTICS:

I think I'll put some clothes on now.

Friday, 26 August 2011

First Post

Yesterday was a bit frustrating. I've got a job waiting for parts but I missed the delivery a couple of days ago as I was having a dump at the time. So I finally felt that I could leave the house yesterday and go into town to pick it up.

I went to the bank to deposit some cheques that were immediately swallowed up by the insane charges that Lloyds TSB seem to think are acceptable. Didn't we bail out Lloyds when they were in trouble? But the fuckers in charge are still screwing every penny out of their customers that they can. It seems that us plebs have to dig deep in our pockets to shore up banks when times are hard but we don't get to benefit when the money comes rolling in again. All the incompetent cunts that got the country in trouble are happily enjoying their bonuses again whilst the rest of us are living hand-to-mouth.

But I digress. So I'm in town and on my way to the post office when I realize that I've left the delivery note at home. Bollocks. By the time I get home I've had enough and can't face going out again. The job will have to wait another day.

It sounds daft but sometimes (a lot of the time) I just do not want to leave the house. I get the feeling in the pit of my stomach that is usually reserved for when you are about to go on stage in front of hundreds of people and you've forgotten what to say. I've got it now because I know I've got to pick up that damn parcel.

I don't think I'm agoraphobic because once I'm out and about I feel fine. I also enjoy going for walks in the countryside, it's just the first step of leaving the house that I can't stand.

Blimey, 315 words at the end of the last paragraph. That's more than I've written for ages. My job does not require me to write reports or letters so the last time I had to do any writing was over 20 years ago in my first job. And not since school for 'creative' writing. I got an 'A' for my English language 'O'-level - how the fuck did I manage that?

The aphorism 'Use it or lose it' is spot on. I've noticed this a lot recently - not just for writing but also for maths, electronics and problem solving or for any kind of logical thinking. I just don't need to use these kinds of skills anymore.

I remember that I could look at a maths or programming problem and just know the correct way of solving it. All my thoughts were focussed and the solution would just present itself. I'm not talking about particularly complicated stuff here but these kinds of problems should be bread and butter stuff really. But I find now that I can't concentrate on anything for very long and I get a kind of 'swirly' feeling in my brain when I'm trying to locate the 'loose end' of the problem that I can make a start on. I can see it there it's just that when I make a grab for it it just slips away out of my grasp.

These problems need addressing but my complete lack of motivation makes it very difficult. I so desperately want to do interesting and creative things with my time but I just can't bring myself to do them. Why is that? Why can't I just enjoy myself? The rewards would be huge if I could only get off my fat arse and do something!

Oh well, enough for today. Here are some things I looked at on the interwebs yesterday that you may like:

Richard Herring's Edinburgh Fringe Podcast: 

Iceland's On-going Revolution:

Have You Ever Tried to Sell a Diamond?: 

Europe needs a revolution: 


Proof: Sir Philip's IT spending review based on false figures: 

And finally, one for the lads (I definitely would): 

I got to these sites from my Twitter feed but I can't remember who sent me there. Have a look at who I'm following, you may find someone you like!

Do I feel better for doing this? Time will tell - stick around and see what happens.

Thanks for reading.