It's a Christmas miracle!

Gosh. It's been a while, but I always do come back.

I've been missing writing, and I want to pick it up again.

Right now it's tricky, because it's Christmas, and I'm listening to Cabin Pressure with my family. So I can't concentrate. Despite how often I multitask, I am not very good at it. Nor are you, actually. Multitasking is one of the great lies; we have finite resources for attention, and splitting that up between multiple tasks decimates the amount of energy we can dedicate to each. This is one of those times when the whole is truly less than the sum of its parts.

I would like to address my most recent post of a little over a year ago (making this, I think my longest hiatus yet). I was depressed! It kicked in again in November this year, and I couldn't work out what was wrong, until I brought my blog up. "All this has happened before, and all this will happen again," as the saying goes. It helps to remember that.

The doc's prescribed me a whole bunch of anti-allergy stuff, and I'm feeling in better health than I have done in a very long time. And feeling well in body has left me feeling well in mind! So that's been awesome! I'm getting a bit of the seasonal malaise, but (today aside) I've been eating far better lately. Let's try and work some exercise into that, and we'll be away.

I wish I was a little bit taller

I apologise for the all-time low on the creativity front. Having the blues tends to take the shine off my writing-elbow. (Elbow makes no logical sense, I know, it just seems to fit there.)

So instead of making the effort, I'm going to make you work in QUESTIONULAR FORM.

My question is this:

What activity or pass-time do you secretly wish you were cool enough for?
For me, it's graffiti. I wrote a bit about it here, but basically, I do not have the hiphop credentials to pick up a spraycan and know which end to point at the wall.

Interesting thing of the day: The Life and Times of a Replicator Repairman.

On the importance of internet and family, and how they both kinda suck

When I'm having a bad day, and the depression seems to have a firm hold of my mind, pure escapism is the only way I can convince myself that things are ok.

When I was a child, fantasy books were my escape. I'd spend every breaktime, every lunchbreak, sat in the library huddled over some new mystery; some enthralling adventure that would take me away from real people for a while.

These days, I seem to have been struck with that curious perspective disorder that makes people further away seem more important. I could be talking to my family; the people I love, who I grew up with, and will miss when they're gone. But for some reason I need to escape them sometimes and talk to a chatroom full of Americans who don't know me. That's how I escape.

The escape has been going fairly well lately. A couple of people I really respect have acknowledged me, which validates my existence in some tiny, pathetic way; and makes me think that perhaps I matter. (Yes, I know this is a very emo post - I'm unhappy. Deal with it.)

That said, my 'internet friends' can't bring me comfort the same way as a phone call from my sister. Nobody on any of the forums I frequent know me and understand me as well as my brother (aside from, erm, my brother). And nobody will be there when it all goes tits-up the way my family will. So tonight I have to remind myself that, one day, I will regret every second I passed them over in favour of a faceless name on IRC.

That doesn't mean they don't drive me crazy sometimes, though, 'cuz they do.

Sweet Lady Fate, why dost thou piss on me so?

The other week, I was walking around with my beloved, discussing terms such as 'depressive' and 'autistic.'

I was very much of the opinion that labelling people in this manner isn't always constructive; that it can lead people to resign themselves to something that could possibly be changed.

G patiently explained that a lot of people find it helpful to be able to understand certain things about themselves; why they act, or feel, a certain way; and that these labels can be instrumental in helping them come to terms with it.

"Well, fair enough" I said in my infinite wisdom, "but I think I'm self-aware enough that I wouldn't need a label like that. I'd have more hope of improvement if I just thought of it as 'a low period' rather than full-blown DEPRESSION. Actually calling it DEPRESSION feels like it would remove any hope of recovery."

Anyway, it seems the joke's on me: I've been diagnosed with clinical depression. My status on MSN has accordingly been upgraded from "sigh" to "bugger."

By the way, the post title is from this strip of the wonderful Questionable Content. Probably one of my top three webcomics (which is saying something since I'm currently subscribed to 28). As usual, the comic will be going up on the left.

While you're here, please enjoy this amazing video of how the song Breakfast at Tiffany's would really go! I love it.

Ten things

For some reason I've found it difficult to write about anything lately. I haven't seen any new films lately, or I'd attempt a lacklustre review, possibly with a few mediocre puns thrown in for good measure.

So anyway, as I said, not much in the way of inspiration happening here. I suppose this is a filler post. For my regular readers, here are ten unrelated things about me that you may not know. To those who don't know me, who are new readers, perhaps, here is my proof that I'm not just another cardboard cut-out person who sits on the bus with you.

1. The place I dream about most often is my home church. I've had flying dreams, naked dreams, exploring dreams, even a sexy dream once, located there. I think I probably dream about it roughly once a week.


2. My parents sent me a bear for my birthday. He arrived today and has a hot water bottle inside him, and I've named him Bode. I think the journey must have been stressful as he's shedding a fair bit - I never want to travel by envelope!
   


3. Back when I used to get insomnia as a kid, I'd try sleeping the other way round, on the floor, in my wardrobe, on top of my wardrobe, in the hall... anywhere. It never worked.
   


4. I want to redecorate this site to something a little less fey, but I've absolutely no idea where to get the layout. I got this one by butchering some code from one of those "OMGLOL pretty up your myspace, lyk totally hot!!!1" sites.


5. I have maybe sort of cyberstalked before. A bit. But it was all public information. But I'm still sorry. Although I would probably do it again. Well then people should stop being so damn INTERESTING then shouldn't they! Still, we're going out now so I suppose I must have done something right! Hahahaah!! I'm not crazy!!! Hahahaah!!!!


6. I used to get very homesick for places I'd never been. Heaven, Ankh-Morpork, a willow tree by a river. I don't any more. Any great thinker, writer, or comedian will tell you that as soon as you're happy with your life, something in your imagination goes dormant.


7. The first pet my family ever owned died right underneath my feet. He was a cat called Chloë and I loved him very much. He purred for the first person to get up every day, so our parents had to ban us from getting up before 6.


8. For years I thought someone I knew was skiving off school. He had six months off at one point just because every weekday morning he'd wake up with an indefinable headache that would disappear sometime after lunch. When he was diagnosed with depression I felt like utter shit, especially since part of me still didn't understand.


9. My greatest fear is that I will cease to be interesting or likeable, and everyone I know will desert me, and I'll be incapable of making any new friends. Every day I wonder if this has already started happening.


10. I could be an amazing poet. I know I could. Maybe I will be one day.

I'm not going to say it's a meme, but if any of you decide you'd like to write ten unrelated facts about yourself (and let's face it who doesn't love a bit of a vanity-wallow once in a while), drop me a comment or an email with a link - I'd love to read them.