Instrumental Interlude

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a verdict. The doctor got to me to do a few deep breaths, which caused me to cough right on cue, and I have bronchitis. Which means amy_k called it. Not that there was any kind of competition, but it does explain why this cough hasn't been going anywhere despite flu coming and going on top of it. I have a prescription for some antibiotics, but I didn't go and get it today because I also had an actual lesson (in Reading Week, due to postponements from the snow days) and afterwards I was hungry and it's dark and cold outside.

On an utterly different note, one of the Shadowboxers (who I think is on LJ) mentioned possibly sending me an ukelele for my birthday. This excites me and fills me with thankfulness. I don't believe I'll be particularly good at playing it, but I do want to play an instrument again. I've never quite dropped the dream of getting a keyboard once this chaotic year is over and learning to play it, even if I'll never be any good. Or perhaps a metallophone, those giant glockenspiels that dong instead of ding. I mention the latter because I frequently chose it as my instrument when we had Music lessons waay back and I loved its sound and I was told one day I played it perfectly with correct rhythm and it made my week.

I wish I had learnt to play an instrument. I have only myself to blame, really, since my parents were pretty keen, but I kept refusing for some reason I can't understand. I really don't get myself back then in the slightest. Later on, I adopted the position that because I was terrible at doing most hand-based activities (hello dyspraxia), I would never be any good anyway so there wasn't a point. But I really love music and especially after going to the open mic night and seeing these cool guitar guys and girls, I really would like to be able to play things myself, even if I'd never be good enough to make anything out of it. So I'd start with a ukelele, of all things, and see if I can do anything with that.

For the meantime, though, my creativity is still poem-based. Rather than actual uni-work based. I am so out of practice. You should not do what I'm doing in final year if you can help it, trust me, even with its all its beautiful highs.

And to end with, since I've not posted enough of them these past few days, a poem! But this one is designed to be read out loud, since people at Writers' Circle keep telling me my poems thrive on their telling. I call this poem Collapse )

Not Rhyming

Sorry about that last night. I'm feeling better now, but I'd still like to type it out at some point, probably between my doctor's appointment and the weird GDR class that's taking place on this theoretically empty week. I suppose it's nice having things to go to, since it should stop me sitting and thinking and driving myself crazy by grabbing buried feelings, current feelings, and dancing a twisted waltz without the orchestra of reason getting much airtime.

Although my Midlands poem got ignored. It wasn't good enough anyway, I should have spent more time on it. And made it rhyme. There was a time I believed a poem wasn't a poem unless it rhymed, and I spent hours on hours on some homeworks ensuring that they did. I loved doing poetry at school and I was a little upset when we stopped writing them and just analysed them instead. I find it darkly amusing my crazy poem is actually a lot better. When read aloud. So much of my poetry works best read aloud. I wonder why that is? I'd like to think it's partly in the telling, and yet...

Although I do feel again that my poetry isn't that great.

Laura came round and made me stew! Which is lovelytasty. It was a good evening, Laura is a sweetheart, and it was very useful to just let feelings out (at a different person's lap this time). I worked out the two, possibly three, things that together were leaving me feeling so all-over-the-place. I am afraid of sounding like a bit of a broken record when I talk about some of them though. Generally, I'm very succeptable to paranoid fears. That's the main thing. They never seem paranoid when I worry about them though.

I'll be less cryptic later. Right now, I am in my new pyjamas. Or the bottoms at least, since it's too cold to wear the top. They are wonderful. Not quite wonderful enough for me to wear them onto campus, mind.

I don't know if this entry is going anywhere. I probably should, though.

Mercy for Mercia, or, Writing Silly Poems While I'm Crazy

My head has been in a really strange place today (not literally). I found myself thinking myself a little insignificant and confused, so I went for a walk, had something to eat and went to Cafe Jules to try and sort things out, so I'm not being a crazy to tragic_peculiar when she comes over tonight. I have worked some things out. Like getting out a bit really helps. And that I still have irrational things in my head that won't go away that easily.

But I'll post about that in more detail either tonight or tomorrow depending on how things are. I don't think there's any cause for concern, and I'll be more together soon enough. I need to be. I weep for my degree (actually, I am very close to doing just that).

SO here is something different. I just saw on the BBC News site that they're holding a North-South poetry event at King's Cross this evening. Fair enough, I thought, that sounds like a great idea. I read the two poem excerpts they posted and instantly felt that I was a silly poet who shouldn't waste her time when she clearly isn't good enough. Thankfully, something else distracted me: the fact that in this battle, as usual, the middle was ignored. Now, as a daughter of Nottingham, I am a Midlander myself, although in some regards, especially recently (my accent apparently, too), I've become rather Southern. And to be honest, I feel that Nottingham itself is divided into North and South making the Midland definition a little culturally lost.

But I figured I'd write something to the BBC story in defense anyway. Yes, it's a poem, No, it's not very good, and I did it so quickly you don't even have to pretend it is this time. So here goes...Collapse )</strike>

...maybe being in messy headspace is better, after all.

The Evening's Evidence

Today. More normal, I think. Hardly any crying sessions, anyhow. Although I still spent way too much time in bed. Following the idea I should actually be doing things, I headed over to Holly's room to throw away the bananas she had left for me and which I hadn't eaten due to not being there because of my illness which still hasn't quite gone. Then I went to an open mic night at the Monkey's Forehead pub nearby, which I'd never been into before because it never really seemed like my sort of place.

I'd gone because aleas_iacta was going to play a short set, and I told her I wanted to cheer her on, but I also wanted to actually hear her sing and play guitar. However, her party were delayed due to trains. Delayed by an hour, leaving me spending the first 20 minutes sitting at a table on my own with a rum and coke trying not to look too desperately lonely, especially given I'd moreorless been indoors away from other people since Tuesday. There was a table full of really blokey blokes, who were shouting loudly and jeering at each other and being quite rowdy, which was a problem because they'd surrounded the entrance to the ladies, but when I finished my drink and they went out en masse for a smoke, I took my chance. I had my lip balm with me at least which helped with the cracked lip, but while I was in there, the blokes came back and I could hear them just outside the door. When I did leave, I tried hurrying past as quickly as I could, but I'm sure one of them shouted something about condoms(!) as I passed by. Perhaps they thought I was buying them or whatever, I don't know, but I quickly found a single-stool table and perched there until people arrived.

The music was generally good that night. The hosts played bluegrass, which was pleasant but extremely background, and of the musicians that weren't from our group, some were great and one wasn't...poor guy kept forgetting lyrics, stopping playing, and leaning over his friend's shoulder to see what they were before playing on. aleas_iacta sang and played really beautifully, despite her nerves and silly belief she wasn't any good, and I bought her a drink afterwards. The boyfriend of puddingdragon was there, and we caught up quite a bit since we hadn't seen each other for a long time, and I was pleasantly surprised to hear that puddingdragon has spoken to him about me quite a bit. So he knew all about me, which was a little strange and a little relieving. He's also a Dresden Dolls fan and Ladytron fan amongst many others, but why is it those two bands seem to have such overlapping fandoms (well, I've met five people including myself, so that's an exaggeration). He invited me over sometime, which is great because I want to catch up, and I was also getting a little upset that I didn't really have any close friends in the area aside from tragic_peculiar, aleas_iacta, and Viv, who's a little too far to walk to.

Also, based on the evening's evidence, my belief about sexuality I posted on last night was correct.

On one final note, some of my coughing fits now lead to me retching. Generally only when I come inside from the cold. But in any case, what on earth is causing that? Possibly not eating enough isn't helping, but I'm working on that as I get better (or pretend I'm getting better). I need more drink too. I bought some blackcurrant juice and drank that, but the pear juice's lid is impossible to get off and it hurt my hands trying and it looks delicious. Grrrr.


Bleh. I spent most of the day in bed. I wasn't even online that much today. Lemsip and water, repeated with large helpings of tissues to dam the eternally running nose. I didn't even get to have that bath last night because I eventually felt I'd just ruin it with my runny nose. When I slept, I woke up early, and then felt too hot because the sun was shining through my window. So I opened it, and then gradually felt too cold. I slept until midday, and spent a little time up before sleeping from 2 to 6. I can't believe I slept that long. I am so glad I have my beloved Panda plushy to cuddle up with and snuggle, it makes being in bed more tolarable.

Missing Holly a lot. More than I remember before. I kept imagining her coming in and bending down to kiss me, or snuggling up to her whilst my head was pounding. I cried at her over the phone, and was generally really emotional. Not surprising, my emotions have been all over the place, and I've felt like a madwoman pacing the kitchen, leaning my head against the window and flexing my fingers. I'm just about coming to terms with not getting much work done while I'm ill, but if I spend most of tomorrow reading and watching films, that should count as dissertation work without me needing to leave bed. Hopefully.

I haven't been spending as much time on Shadowbox either. Lack of online time and emotional chaos mean that I finally lost it with the aggravating poster there who hardly anyone can stand, and started ignoring them after telling them they had an empty life.

I can't wait until I'm better again. Then I can go see Coraline with Holly, do the dress shopping I promised myself for my birthday, get substantial work done, and be far less emotional, hopefully. This is kinda draining at the moment. I also have to watch what I eat. I cooked myself some Indian snacks two nights back and felt off for a while afterwards because of the grease. And they're not even that greasy. Actually, I've not been eating much at all lately, which is bad of me I know. It's hard to gather the energy and effort.

You must be getting tired of 'I'm ill' posts by now. Sorry. I am too. But now I shall take that bath, and I hope that despite my nose and my cough and my savage double sneezes (you know the sort...), it helps me relax. It should also make me less smelly after so long in bed, and with a bit of luck, it will help my skin too. So I'm quite looking forward to it. Don't let me down, Lush.
  • Current Music
    AFP - Ultima Esperenza
Soft Sad

Coughs and Sneezes Spread Tears

It hurts. It really does hurt.

No, not today's date, my continuing stupid illness. My nose has not stopped running all day. I meant to do more tidying and so on today, but I spent most of the first half in bed, sleeping but not peacefully. My coughing fits are still here, and may even be getting worse (I've had to steady myself on walls and tables during the bad ones, and actually dropped a mug I was holding once too). They come and go in their intensity, owwww...just had one there...but it's beyond annoying, and is now really upsetting, frustrating and painful. Not to mention I'm scared I'll fall over at some point. I'm also sneezing now to go with everything else, and sometimes those hurt too.

I wanted to have a hot bath tonight with some Lush smellies I got for my birthday, but I'm worried I'll just cough and sneeze and ruin it...

I didn't expect this to take so long. I don't get ill often, but when I get colds, I get them badly. I could just about handle this if it wasn't for the persistent cough. I'm now sufficiently concerned (if it were anyone but me, I'd have bundled them off a few days ago) to go see a doctor, but the health centre has closed for the weekend. I don't think it's serious...as far as I know, it's my old overproduction-of-musus-in-the-windpipe come back again after 5 or 6 years. I don't want it back. I don't want this. It's gone beyond a joke now, and I'm getting really upset that I can't do anything right now. I have so much to do, which I need to do, and all I feel I can do is cough and sneeze and blow my nose (it looks like I have a nosebleed, my skin under my nose is so raw...that hurts too). And get dizzy as a result of the above. I don't want to make too much of this, but it's got to the point where I really can't dismiss it.

Although I still tell myself it's only a cough and blame myself for not doing more.

aleas_iacta, who is wonderful and sweet and awesome, can testify to all of this. She offered to come round and take care of me while Holly is off in Sussexland. I agreed, because feeling rotten and lonely isn't good (Internet, I love you, but). I do feel sorry for her, though, since I coughed, sneezed, and possibly infected her too. We spent a long time chatting about lots of things: schooldays, sensitivity, bands we like. I also spent about an hour crying on her lap. Crying about my illness to begin with...I think...I just started weeping after a coughing fit...and ended up crying about lots of different things. Things which I'd talked about before without getting teary turned me into a blubbering knee wreck. I take it back about me not being more emotional in that sense. Actually, this cold/cough has left me emotionally haywire, which is interesting. But yes, I even cried because I was crying. It was...so relieving. Pain of many years finallyfinallyfinally given a voice. I cried over some things I haven't discussed here (yet (possibly)). And then I wiped my tears, wiped my nose, talked a little bit more, and coughed a mug out of my hands. Not to mention spilling the popcorn Lush use instead of polystyrene all down the side of my bed where I can't get it out easily. That made me cry too. It was that sort of evening.

But now I'm not crying, just blowing my noise and wincing at the soreness there. I'm going to head to bed soon (maybe try the bath in the morning) and hope sleep can aid me. On which note, the only thing I remember from last night's dream was falling apart crying at how people have babies, then the babies grow up and have babies themselves (this has nothing to do with that article from The Sun). I'm not sure what to make of that. Unless.

But I'm feeling pretty good. Or would be if this blasted thing went away. I don't want to cough myself worse...
  • Current Music
    AFP - Trout Heart Replica

Do You Remember?

...cherry blossoms in the market square, do you remember, the way we thought it was...hang on, that's a song.

What is your earliest childhood memory?

You wouldn't believe me. I'm not one who claims to have memories from the womb, but nevertheless, I remember things which certain psychology books tell me I should not be able to. Take our family's first house in Bobber's Mill. I remember the garden, especially the small flowerbed between the bricks, and I remember the flimsy garage. I remember bouncing on one of my baby things in the red-carpeted living room. I remember the local sweet shop, I remember being taken along the local roads, and I remember heading round the corner to a small terraced house where an Indian family lived who liked to take care of me while my parents were out. The problem with all this? We moved into our current family home a few days before my first birthday.

Photographic memory, hmm?

I'm very good at remembering places, or sights. Sometimes I will scare my family by saying we've been somewhere before, and I usually turn out to be correct. I remember the wait at the Marienborn checkpoint to get into East Germany, when I was about one and a half. I remember the Scottish resort village of Glen Trool Lodge where we stayed a few days before my brother was born, when I was three, and I remember visiting my mother in the ward when it happened. I remember my uncle playing snooker when we rented out a house in Wales when I was two.

It's a blessing. But it can also be a curse. Because it's all the easier to know what is now gone forever.

I don't like the structure of these 'Writer's Block's, but I don't recall having mentioned this on here for a while.

I really need a glass of water.


This sucks. I've been in bed almost all day. Holly took great care of me while she was here, but she's gone back to Sussex for a dentist's appointment, and I'm feeling her absence. I didn't mention it so much in the previous entry, but I'm really not very well at the moment. I've got persistent headaches (lowish-level, but still there), a high temperature, and a bad cough that sometimes is so bad it hurts my throat and chest. At Holly's order, I thus didn't attend the translation seminar earlier: it's the first uni lesson I have missed in years. I really do strive for perfect attendance, but with a pounding head and a cough a smoker would be horrified with, I reluctantly concurred with her order. The rest of the day, I've been alternating between lying in bed and being on the Internet, trying to take my mind off the ow.

*and as if to prove a point, I just coughed a lot and my voice has temporarily gone*

I had meant to spend this afternoon on a few things, not least slaving away at making my own room (I've been in Holly's all day) clean and respectable again before the imminent inspections. I also wanted to do the translation homework that should have been for today's lesson and so on. Now the day is almost over, and I've done little aside from occasional posts online, sleep, eat a little, drink a little, play a little Worms, and the like. I hope I feel better tomorrow. Hey, even if I don't, I still *need* to do things. Next week is Reading Week, it's the best opportunity for me to catch up on my dissertation work, which is so far behind I'm terrified I've already doomed myself.

I still want to go dress shopping at the weekend though. And Asobi Seksu are playing a gig in London on Tuesday, which I'm unsure whether I'll go to or not. Probably not, for time and money.

Now, as for this title...I suppose you can guess. I've been following the horrific bushfires in Victoria for a few days now, watching the videos and reading the reports. It honestly terrified me to think of the tragedy involved. I pictured a wall of flame rushing towards me, my loved ones, all my possessions. I keep thinking I'd not have made it. But it's not about me. I feel so upset for those who have lost loved ones, for those whose lives and livelihoods have been burnt to ashes. I don't think so much about the firebugs, partially because I honestly cannot comprehend how any living human being could do that. It doesn't make any kind of sense to me, and it's horrible horrible horrible. I suppose I didn't realise how affected I'd been by all of this, until this morning, when reading the news to take my mind of my high temperature, I saw a report of a family from Marysville. The father went out to start the car, and halfway down the drive, a fireball whizzed out of the blazing forest straight into the house, and the resulting explosion instantly killed his wife and their two sons, as well as severely burning his back.

And I burst into tears, and cried for two solid minutes. Holly advised me not to get so involved in tragedies in the future, and perhaps she's right. I've always found it heartbreaking, but with recent changes, it's taking much more of a toll on me. I get worried, because it must make me easy to hurt, but I'd like to think I can strike the balance. I can't believe I cried for so long this morning, but perhaps things have always been that way.

Ah, welcome back headache. I'm retreating back to bed now xx

I Love The Way

Heya sweeties, I haven't forgotten you! I'd love to claim that I've been too hard-working for LJ, but in fact I've been spending a lot of time on Shadowbox. And on catching up on sleep. And Societies' Ball. Goodness, I have a lot to post upon! I know I said this last week, but I mean it this time *fingers crossed*. I'd like to have it all written-up before my birthday anyhow.

So, in true modern me style, I'm not going to say anything of substance here, but instead leave with you a poem I wrote this morning instead of doing proper work. I like the idea, but I'm not sure I pulled it off...

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  • Current Music
    AFP - Like O, Like H

Light Rail

Oh gosh I am SO tired. I didn't even get back *that* late last night, but it took its toll, and I did end up in the situation where I was a little too hungry to sleep and too tired to cook...plus, since this time round the snow was pathetic, and so things are cold and slushy. I have little impetus to go outside.

I'll do a concert write-up at some point this afternoon, with photos once they're uploaded. Amanda Palmer was great, and she played a special set since she'd already done her 'usual' last time. This included a great cover of 'Like O Like H' by T&S. I had a rose in my hat.

In the meantime, here's a silly pretentious thing I came up with coming home on the train last night with sleet and darkness outside the window. This will mean more to you if you regularly travel in this part of England.

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    AFP - Runs in the Family