My Brain Hurts!

The church bell rings non-stop for about 5 minutes summoning the faithful to worship. It’s like an alarm clock that the whole village hears, regardless of whether we’re church-goers or not. I was awake this morning before it started but last Sunday I’d had a bad night’s sleep and the hour went back. I was in a deep sleep when it started so that got the day off to a bad start.

But last night I slept better, though still awake during the night. Some strange dream caused me to wake up. Lots of dreams last night. Maybe I should have a separate blog for them but them I can’t always remember them.

Bits from last night included :
- my neighbour coming home early from her ski-ing holiday with her leg in plaster.
- My sister picking me and a few of her friends up from an airport. We stopped at a shop and one of the others bought a bottle of wine some of which we drank in the car.
- Another dream was about Winton (the large house I lived in as a kid).
- And there was another bit which featured a woman who looked like Kylie.
- Something about being in a wood with some building in the middle of it – a church? Can’t remember.

Very active sub-conscious. I’d had a bath at about 7, then went to bed for a couple of hours. Thought about what I’d say to the new shrink. Stuff about (ab)using alcohol to create physical symptoms of the depression. Reminded me of what happened several years back. I was in quite a state then but Dr B just told me I was over-reacting and sent me on my way. Not what I needed. You go for help and the door is slammed in your face. Like with P.F. at Fernbrae.

Felt sick due to the lager I’d had earlier – kept burping it up. Got up and had some soup and a roll and felt better but went back to bed. Couldn’t sleep. Listened to the radio incl the cricket. England beat the Windies over there, first time in over 30 years.

Feeling pretty tired this morning. But the sun is shining so I should go out somewhere today. The police have parked up by the main road – it’s a race day at Crail so we’ll have all the young loons coming through the village.

Saturday afternoon. Just watched the Man U - Arsenal match on TV. George had phoned this morning and told me it was on. He'll be heading off to Easter Road now to see if Hibs can get some revenge for the cup final defeat against Livi.

The Scotsman has changed its format for Saturday - everything tabloid size. The TV section didn't mention the Man U game so that's a bit crap. But it's all horses today with the Grand Nat on later. Let's see how many horses they can kill this year. Imagine if football players were shot if they broke a leg...

Got a txt from Jane at the MGS egroup. They're missing me. Oh. Can't say I'm missing them. I'm just reminded of the shit with Iain. When am I going to re-join the group? Never seems too soon. It's in the past . I just want to leave it there. But it keeps haunting me...

Logged on the Jane's bored and found there was someone logged on called Raven. Never seen him/her before.

Highlight of yesterday, after the pain-killers had done their work, was watching Room To Rent with the lovely Juliette Lewis in a Marilyn Monroe lookalike role. Which reminds me that Marlin, next door, is away on her annual hols to America ski-ing.

So, I don't have to worry about the music. Today it's been the White Stripes, Bellrays and Radiohead so far, with 3 bottles of stella while watching the match.

It's 1:30 in the morning and I'm back on the computer. I typed some silly shit yesterday but it's all part of the therapy. Having it all on the web makes me think more about how I'm behaving. I don't want to worry anyone but at the same time, I can't stop that from happening. Just as well my parents can't access this. I could say it was the drink talking but there's the saying, 'things said when drunk have been thought out before'.

Why am I online at this time of the night? Well, I sometimes get this really bad pain in my lung. It hurts like hell but will pass. The last time my girlfriend was staying and she drove me to see my GP in the morning. He gave me some pain-killers (one up from Ibuprofen) but before I'd even taken one, the pain disappeared. It's worse if I'm in bed so I'm sitting at the PC.

It's pretty scary but worse if it's in the left lung coz then it feels like it's my heart! Probably stress-related. Weird that I get it now. I've been in bed most of the last 6 hours. Not sleeping much as I'm so thirsty. God, Tennents lager really is piss. I got 4 cans from the shop and wished I hadn't bothered. At least 1 can's worth went down the sink. All I get is a raging thirst and a sore head.

I've taken an ibuprofen, but more for the lung pain. I don't think I'll be going though to Edinburgh today. Will phone P&M and txt George. Don't like letting him down as he's paid for the tickets - but he's maybe just reserved them.

Who knows? I may feel better after I get some more sleep but I doubt it. I'm such an optimist!

Got an email from my mate Jamie. Says he's gonna be a dad again, at 40. He became a grand-dad earlier in the year. Crazy or what? But he said something about wanting to have a baby with his new wife. Be careful what you dream of, it may come up and surprise you.

I like this web logging. Beats the old 5 year diary. :o)

It's a horrible thing to think but if my parents were in an old folks home it would make going thru to Edinburgh so much easier. I could go through tomorrow and pick up George, go to the gig and just come home at the end of the night.

But instead I have to stay at no 14, make polite conversation, listen to dad blasting out Bruckner at high volume and feel like shit.

And all the time wonder what they are thinking about their fucked up son.

I'm 39 for God's sake. Can't I do my own thing?

I live in the shadow of not only my sister but my successful cousins. No wonder I want to hide here.

In Utero - Nirvana. RIP Kurt Cobain.

Down by the River - Neil Young.

La La La. I hate feeling like this. I spilled red wine on my sweatshirt.

I'm supposed to be going over to see my parents tomorrow but I can't face it. I feel like I'd rather get so drunk I'm sick tomorrow. I don't wanna be sick but trying to be normal to my parents is so hard. Not so bad with mum but with dad it feels so fucking hard.

Actually it's bad with both of them. I phoned mum to say I'd be over at lunchtime on Friday and she got all stressed out coz she's going to get a haircut.

I'll just stay here. It's too difficult going over there. Stress City. I can't deal with it!

Geoff just came round. I used to work with him. He's an ex-DHSS person like me. He is semi-retired and would like to be F-T retired. He and I are alike in that we both disliked our jobs and wished we could do something else, like nothing.

Some people live to work. Some work to live. Some wish they could just live.

Work is the devil's business. Work rots your brain, gives you cancer, kills you.

Ok, we need money to pay the rent, bills, go out get drunk, whatever but if you think about and realise that there's nothing more, why not end it all?

We live but we have to work. Work sucks. I've hated every job I've ever done. these last 2 years of mental illness have been heaven. No fucking work.

Tim Leary got it right - turn on, tune in, drop out. But, if we all did that, the world would grind to a halt.

It's about finding something that we like doing, be it office work, farming, retail, whatever. But what about those of us who don't know what we want to do?

Too many questions...

Song for today... AC/DC - You Shook Me All Night Long :headbang:

Listening to Dookie by Green Day, drinking another, cheaper Cotes Du Rhone and it's only 13:39. Oh the exact nature of computers. This whole shit started with digital watches. People used to say, oh it's about a quarter to two but when those digital time pieces arrived, you had to be exact.

I like the line in the Michelle Shocked song "5 am in Amsterdam" -

It's 5 am in Amsterdam and this is how I know
Not from my digital watch, I don't even own one.

Why do we have to be so exact? We are controlled by time. The alarm beeps at 7am. Be at work by 9. Coffee break at 10:30. Lunch at 1. Break at 3:30. Leave at 5. Soap on TV at 8. News at 10. Bed at 11.

Aaaaaaargh!!!!!! Damn the clock!! We are slaves to our clocks. Is this not a kind of hell we create for ourselves?

Maybe this is the real reason people started to drop out in the 60s. Like Winona Ryder's parents when they moved to a hippie community, lived in tents and did what they wanted. When the Ryders moved back into Ratrace Town, Winona was bullied for being a hippie kid. Ok for the parents but hell for the offspring. And back to the 9 to 5 existence.

Mental illness takes you away from that. Peace. No more routine. Live each day as it comes. Eat. Drink. Sleep. Think. Wash. Whatever...... it's your life!

Welcome to Paradise!

Today has been cancelled due to lack of interest.

A cloudy day today which matches my mood, though that is partly due to the red wine I consumed yesterday. I finally got a letter from the absent therapist this morning apologising for not turning up last Tuesday, saying it was a communication problem. Better late than never but actually, it is too late as my GP has refered me to another therapist.

The local shop only had one copy of my paper left and it was pretty dog-eared. I felt like asking them for 5p off but I don't think that would have gone down very well and I couldn't be arsed going down to the next village just for a newspaper. Not much to read in it. Kinda force of habit buying it.

Someone described these blogs as the online equivalent of reality TV. Fair comment. BTW, I live in GMT so it's lunchtime. I'm not a total insomniac.

On the hi-fi today is Ricks Road by Texas.

Later...

Day 1.

Strange new world. What am I doing here? Um, having a drink and typing some stuff. I'd heard about Bloggers a while back but it was just yesterday via google that I found blogger.com.

I'm on holiday from life. Ok, I'm unemployed but also signed off. Not fit to look for work. Suits me. If life is driving down a motorway towards wherever, then I've gone off onto a B-road and am enjoying the scenery. Away from the rat race.

Gimme a break! That's what I said, or was saying, after 11 years in a dead-end job. Sometimes, your sub-conscious takes control and says, come on, this is bulls**t. You are not happy, you are going nowhere. Get outta here!

So I did. That was about 2 years ago. It's cool, the liberation from the rat race. It feels like in The Matrix - you break free and realise there's more than you realised.

But, I'm waiting to go into therapy. So that's what I mean by a holiday from life. You are excused working, paying tax, etc but you can't stay away forever. Well, you can if you win the Lottery or become a Krishna devotee but I have a house, a car, a girlfriend, a cd\record collection which pesters me for new additions.

You can drop out so far. But I didn't really consciously choose to drop out. It happened. I'm here and life goes on within you and without you as a certain Beatle sang.

On that note, enough for now. Except to say that I'm listening to a long since dis-banded Scottish band called Slide and am drinking a Cotes Du Rhone 2002.

Salut!