So many possibilities, probably only one outcome…

Now that I’ve got my book review-cum-obsessive waffle out the way, here’s a ‘proper’ blog post. If there is such a thing. And yet again, it’s been longer than intended since my last one. I really want to be a regular blogger, truly I do. It seems like it would be fun. Problem is, my life just isn’t interesting enough. What would my posts be filled with? Ranting about how poorly I feel, how much doctors annoy me, how much people in general annoy me. And that would get tiresome after a while, tiresome to read and probably even tiresome to write (considering I’d be writing much the same thing, constantly).

So, that leaves me two choices. Persevere, or give up. The latter is probably the best option. But, as quite often is the case for me, I’m not going to  take it. I’m going to persevere, either in hope of finding more interesting things to write about, or no longer caring whether or not there’s even the slightest bit of interesting content and just doing it. Again, probably the latter.

We’ll see how it goes. The case will more than likely prove to be that I never write here again, or at least not for a few months, and then I’ll come on and write all this again.

So until then, I suppose I shall bid you…adieu.

Obsessed, me?

What immediately springs to mind when you think of Stephen King? Horror, in some form or other, I’m guessing. Maybe the creepy-as-shit clown in It or vengeful psychic Carrie. Certainly it was that sort of terror that first came to me, and, being the terrible squeamish wimp I am, resolved that I would never touch Stephen King, not with a hundred foot barge pole.

I realise now I was missing out. There is so much more to King’s repertoire than chills and screams. Perhaps his greatest work –certainly in my mind it is – is The Dark Tower series, an epic tale of the struggle to save reality itself – alongside deep questions of what reality is that you’ll be left pondering for weeks to come.

I struggle to define what The Dark Tower is exactly; what genre does it fit into? Fantasy, perhaps; there’s plenty of magic and sorcery and evil creatures that aren’t quite human. Sci-fi maybe; multiple worlds, metaphysical questions about the nature of reality. Horror? There are certainly aspects of it (the Doorkeeper from The Wastelands possibly my favourite example of horror in TDT). Arguments could even be made for western. And yet it doesn’t quite fit into any of these categories. It’s something so unique, so totally different to anything else, that it almost creates and fits into a genre entirely of its own.

I can’t pontificate and gush enough about the merits of these books. I can’t summarise them for you; they are beyond summary. I can’t explain them; they’re beyond explanation. Read them. If you’re not hooked after the first one (it had me wriggling on the end of the ling after the first sentence!) then…I don’t know, I can’t imagine that happening enough to think of what would happen then. The Dark Tower is waiting for you, go to it.

The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.

Well that didn't last long...

So much for keeping up the blogging eh. I'd say I'm going to try to blog more, but we all know I won't stick to it, so I'll keep schtum. Late nights (4:32 am, no sleep as of yet) leave me wanting to share thoughts, so we've all got something to be annoyed at late nights for eh?

A comment first on the NHS: how can it's staff be so different?! Early Sunday morning, for long-winded reasons, an ambulance was called for me, and oh the paramedics! Not exactly the cheeky but compassionate people you see on Casualty. The bloke went snooping round the flat, looking at my boyfriend's uni timetable, not showing a great deal of interest in the patient, while his colleague treated me like I was a nuisance! Not one nice word of reassurance did she give me, simply an air of "Fine, let's get you to the hospital so we can get rid of you." It was a nasty feeling, and didn't exactly make me feel any better considering the amount of pain I was in.

But this stands in starkest contrast to the staff at the hospital, the majority of which were lovely. The nurses and doctor I saw in A&E were kind, considerate and seemed to actually want to help me, even if they were rather clueless about what was wrong with me (a doctor I saw late in the observation ward even had to go and ask the nurses what ME was!). Clueless, but they had plenty of pain relief to give me, and at least acted as though they cared.

I suppose some understanding can be had for the paramedics; it was early Sunday morning (around 6), so they'd probably had hours of drunkenness and hudlums and time-wasters. But in their attitude I found a distinct lack of professionalism; surely as someone dealing with the sick, ill and injured, a caring nature is part of the job?

You want this, do you?

So, here I am again. Two posts in, what, seven days? Impressive.

Something has been playing on my mind the last few days, something that, really, has always been there, but had faded in more recent times.

On Friday night, I was speaking on the phone to a friend, who asked me what I'd been up to lately. So I told him: nothing, except for spending 80-90% of the day confined to my bed. He laughed, replying that he'd love to be able to spend all day in bed.

Ha. Such total ignorance angers me. If it was from a person who knew nothing about me, didn't know I was ill, OK, understandable, but from someone I've known for years? I tried to control my ire, but put him straight with something along the following lines:

"OK, so, you'd like to be lying in bed having to wear an eye mask because any light, even that through closed curtains is like knives to your eyeballs, your head throbs with such pain you think your skull my implode and feel so weak that you can barely even lift your arm an inch? You'd really like that, would you?"

As you can imagine, that somewhat had him choking on his words, and to his credit he was apologetic and very considerate and, dare I say it, kind thereafter. But still, it grates on me that even people I've known for years, who are aware of many of the details of my condition, can still make such truly annoying and yes, hurtful remarks, undermining my suffering and thinking I'm somehow having the time of my life indulging in total sloth.

That's certainly one sin I won't be going to hell for. Much of the time, I feel I'm already there.

Return

Wow. It's been a long time since I posted here, I'd actually forgot it was here. But as I lay in bed one night, filled with so many emotions that were bottled inside, like the boiling magma in the volcano, I knew I needed a place to release them freely, where no one would be upset or angered or insulted by them, where I would not face scrutiny by those close to me, where I can most be myself...yet never truly known. Oh I do love a good paradox.

So, how long's it been? Two years? A hell of a lot has happened since then. Health, illness, love, hurt, joy, pain... The things that make up our lives more than anything. I fell in love, my heart was broken, and broken again, and again, because I was foolish and to coward to do what I should have done. I got past that, eventually, and fell in love with someone far more deserving. I've made friends, I've lost friends, and there are people... I have no idea what they are to me. I'd like them to be friends but... who knows? There have been family bereavements, too many, far too many. My health has deteriorated. I have new passions in life, I've moved on from old ones. I've developed more as a person. I have new outlooks on the world, not all as bleak as once they were, some bleaker still.

I don't know how long this will last, it's very likely it'll be another two years till I return. But it's here for me, right? At least it will always be there.

A new beginning...

I have created this blog to be a place to express myself and share my feelings with others, without the harsh scrutiny of those nearest to me. I hope it will provide respite and relief from the strains that weigh on my shoulders and drag down my mind. I hope it will help me unburden myself, let lose the toils of life both monotonous and so strange. Release the fury, anguish, delight and despair that otherwise may stay contained within me, fizzing and wroiling till it bursts out.

I hope.