This Site Has Moved

New Wordpress Site

The Old/Non Updated Content...




The home of the haikulator

 

Links

Sentence Generators
My Stand-up & gigs
The Coding Craftsman
BurberryAndBroccoli
MarkInventions

The Musical!
Incredible Productions

apostrophell
backlash
incredible
haiku


Previous Posts

Bullied
Today Has Been Shit
One For Me
Post DIY Drive
Last Night's DIY
Oh Good
Oh My God I Can't Believe It
Now What?
A Series Of Tantrums
Carry Me Home

Blog Archives

October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
August 2009
September 2009
January 2010
March 2010
April 2010
May 2010
June 2010
July 2010
August 2010
September 2010
October 2010
November 2010
December 2010
January 2011
February 2011
March 2011
April 2011
May 2011
June 2011
July 2011
August 2011
October 2011
December 2011
February 2012
March 2012
April 2012
May 2012
June 2012
July 2012
March 2013
April 2013
May 2013
June 2013
July 2013
August 2013
September 2013
October 2013
December 2013
January 2014
February 2014
March 2014
May 2014
July 2014
January 2015
February 2015
March 2015
April 2015
May 2015
June 2015
July 2015
August 2015
January 2016
February 2016
March 2016
April 2016
May 2016
July 2016
August 2017
January 2018
August 2018
September 2018
July 2019
August 2019
May 2020
June 2020
July 2020
August 2020
September 2020
December 2020
January 2021
July 2021
September 2021
February 2022

Wednesday, September 26

Nice Day Dear?

Following the day in the office, I sped off home. That's going at the legal speed, not speeding per se, and then quickly changed into my cycling clothes - my actual size now, not the oversized bags I've been wearing - and headed to the railway station. My ultimate destination was my sister's house, where I'd be having a big family meal. The knowledge of this forthcoming feast had been coupled with my desire to stay in control of my weight and also my general sense of misery. As a result, "the voice" was back.

I've mentioned voices before, and I'm just going to take a small moment to acknowledge, that a self-destructive voice in my head, telling me to do things I don't like, is not a good thing. However, it's not quite like multiple personality disorder. It's my voice I hear. I assume that everyone hears their thoughts as a monologue, or sometimes a faux dialogue in their head. I'm also assuming that some moods can change the tone of voice of this particular imaginary voice. Well, I have different sorts of tones of voices I use in my head. Sometimes, when I'm in a particularly bothered state, there are two voices - "little me", the frightened child that sits inside me all the time, and "twisting the knife me", the voice which picks away at things that bothers me, tries to anger me, and generally suggests that I just fuck off. I suspect these "voices" are figuratively representing my conflicted feelings. Other voices I think I bring along, dependent on time include "rational me" - a calm explaining type of myself, "selfish me" - a self-explanatory and entirely conscienceless being, and "the distracter" - probably my stand-up comedian nature - the sort who says "Hey everyone - let's go play on our bikes for a bit". Again, these aren't characters, or individual personalities, they're more like instincts I have in various situations.

The various situations recently have involved lots of arguments between the lost boy inside me and the knife twister. This week may have been the singularly most shit week I've had all year, indeed, probably in the last 5 years... maybe even longer. What bizarrely makes it worse is the weightloss - I can't even rely on my body to be stable. What I really needed was the distracter to say "Hey, let's go play on our bikes".

As a result, having allowed my darker thoughts at lunchtime to restrict me to a very lean intake of food, in anticipation of the meal ahead and also to piss myself off, I set off on my bike from Paddington station with about 8 miles of uphill London cycling ahead of me. If there's something I know about cycling, it's this. You can really take out any stresses, upsets and frustrations on the pedals. It's even good doing it in London because you need to use self-preservation instincts too, which really take your mind off things. The lightweight mp3 player I ordered would have also taken my mind off things, but it still hasn't arrived. Damn - there's a helmet for it to be mounted to an everything!

Anyway, the route started in traffic, progressed through no traffic, but long hills and then had a final slog on the very busy North Circular. This is a journey which takes your energy away. It also feels a bit like a rite of passage.

I arrived, humbled by the experience, at my sisters, to a round of applause from those present, who had been waiting for my arrival before starting the evening meal. I had said I'd be there at 8.30. I had hoped it would be 8 at first, but work had demanded my additional attendance and I couldn't walk out of the meeting I was in.

I was hasted to the shower after those present, a lot of whom last saw me two stones in weight ago, had cooed over my physical changes. At least the weightloss and exhaustion were more of a distraction than my general sense of mood. Indeed, I soon managed to blend in at the dinner table, making the occasional laconic quip and, only once, losing myself to genuine feelings when the subject of dogmatic religious observance came up and quickly sliced open a wound I'd been trying to heal since May/June. Luckily, it was only a minor tear and I got it plastered up pretty quickly. These are metaphors. I'd make shit Asperger's Syndrome sufferer.

At some stage during the evening, having taken in a fair amount of food and noticed that I probably couldn't have eaten much more, despite the fact that I used to be able to eat more, since my stomach felt full... although the darker voice had been chastising me for wanting to even think about eating more, I set back off on my bike and headed home.

It was downhill all the way to the station - well, most of the way. I even had a race with a motorist who told me I was speeding. I felt free of the law. They can't put points on me for cycling too fast.

I got to bed. To sleep, perchance to wake up in a better mood. I'd largely managed to avoid questions relating to how well life was really going. Result!

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home

All content ©2001 - 2020 Ashley Frieze