Same result, with the added bonus of a burned hand because I couldn't be arsed to get the glove out.
Got a MH appointment through for 9 April. Luckily I started feeling better last week.
Slipped out to post a birthday card and the banks of the brook were full of pending snowdrops:
The rest of my time was spent trying to make progess on this god-awful essay.
Like the hairbrush, I've tried to do it properly this time instead of just winging it.
And it's resulted in this horrible swamp I feel I've been wading through for the last three thousand years.
I'm sure it wasn't this hard last time I wrote an essay. Back then, I used to look at the question until it haunted my dreams, and then more or less as I was writing it, go digging in books and papers for things I could use. Hunter-gathering.
This time, urged by my student support lady, I have reversed this process. I've done extensive reading first, amassed copious notes, sorted them into plans and outlines, plotted it all out before I start. Point - Evidence - Example and all that malarkey. Shaped ideas rather than just flinging them at the page and hoping, or drawing them together with witchcraft. Your basic agrarian.
And I cannnot write the thing.
I suspect doing it properly has just enabled my tendency to get bogged down in overthinking.
Exempli gratia. Thinking about overthinking made me want to find a meme to illustrate the point, which led me to this:
Which reminded me of the one and only time I decided to jump off the top board at a municipal swimming pool. This was in the 1990s. I was up there for perhaps half an hour, frozen in terror, with children streaming past me to blithely plunge to their certain deaths, before I was coaxed down the quick way by an encouraging and sympathetic nine year old.
Which reminded me of this:
And of course somewhere along the way it occured to me I should google 'what does e.g. stand for', and that was an hour gone.
My ADHD brain: working against me on this essay and in life.
Interesting tangents are so much better than boring stuff!
When the essay is done and I do get my life back, I will be interested to read this New York Times piece about Britney Spears. Spend hours on Twitter again. Slob about. Watch a DVD. That kind of thing.
Another day of working hard on the essay, although I still managed to find time to browse Rightmove for all properties in South Wales and England for sale at £45,000 or thereabouts.
A girl can dream.
(A girl can dream IF she wants to live in a garage or on a caravan park.)
The heated hairbrush I ordered off eBay after the nice lady on a YouTube hair-trimming tutorial told me hers had changed her life arrived today.
It made my hair go even more Crystal Tipps and Alistair than usual.
After I'd battled the static into submission, I read the instructions.
Of course, I'd done it wrong. I will try again tomorrow having learned and internalised the many rules and requirements.
But it did make me wonder what kind of carnage had made it necessary for the original eight page instruction pamphlet to be supplemented with:
An A4 sheet reiterating the instructions IN BIGGER FONT.
An erratum slip saying 'yes it's meant to buzz when you switch it on' (I paraphrase).
And a single, sinister, black glove.
I remember the days when brushing your hair used to be quite straightforward.
No matter. I worked out twenty years ago the best way to tame my frizz is to put on a woolly bobble hat and never take it off.
"possibly Europe's wackiest religious site, where Baltic paganism meets the extraterrestrial. It's a perfectly round meteor crater that was worshipped by ancient Estonians."
Maybe one day I'll get to take off in my campervan again.
Today's photo: Up Close And Personal To The Avocado Plant
Had to be out early to "click 'n' collect" some library books, so carried on to The Bendricks after.
Was this an essential journey?
Yes.
Found a comfortable spot and sat for a while, harvesting vitamin D and watching the tide go out, until I realised it was actually coming in and I should probably move.
The rest of the day was spent researching an essay for the Death, Burial and the Afterlife module, so most of the interesting links are a bit deathy, sorry.
"The difficulty of reaching the moon was overcoming the “mystical
magnetism” that held animals and plants to the ground, and if man could
find a way of rising at least 20 miles above the surface where the
magnetic effect was weakest, then they could fly through space to the
moon.
In 1648, Dr Wilkins drew plans for what he called a flying chariot
powered by clockwork and springs, a set of flapping wings coated with
feathers and a few gunpowder boosters to get it started."
"No offense to special ed teachers, but when I couldn’t show my
intelligence, I still was thinking. But all I got was one plus one, ABC
and the weather. My recommendation is to teach at least some age
appropriate lessons and books, even before the student can express his
thoughts. Who knows how much is locked inside?"
Allelujah - I've started to feel like myself again.
Was able to maintain concentration today for longer than five minutes a pop, so managed to get some studying done and also sat happily through a three hour lecture.
Even tidied my desk, that Brigadoon of paperwork, which had disappeared beneath piles of junk again since its last appearance five weeks ago.
The Toyah article led me to her YouTube channel which is full of things like this:
I love her.
Graun also had a brilliant long read about Jeff Bezos:
"a man who, despite living on a planet where one third of human beings
don’t have access to safe drinking water, told Business Insider magazine
that “the only way I can see to deploy this much financial resource is
by converting my Amazon winnings into space travel”."
Ouch.
More ouch:
"“We could have a trillion humans in the solar system,” says Bezos,
“which means we’d have a thousand Mozarts and a thousand Einsteins. This
would be an incredible civilisation.”
It’s worth wondering whether
there might not already be thousands of Einsteins and Mozarts on this
planet right now, and how many of them, due to accidents of birth and
economic circumstance, are forced to expend their time and potential
working as Amazon stockpickers or delivery drivers, further enriching
Jeff Bezos – who would, if he were really as interested in cultivating
human potential as he claims to be, probably pay people more, and let
them take toilet breaks whenever they needed to."
But it's not ALL ouch:
"What are we to make of these celestial
aspirations, this vision of the good life as one of endless consumption,
limitless growth? And what, more to the point, are we to make of Bezos
himself? In one sense, it’s hard to make anything of him at all. Despite
his vertiginous wealth, and despite the extent to which his business
interests have been skilfully woven into the fabric of our everyday
lives, it’s weirdly hard to form any strong opinions about the man. He
repels curiosity. The mind skitters off the beige gleam of his surfaces;
the imagination scrabbles in vain for some purchase on the frictionless
dome of his head."
Oh, sorry, yes it is - it's entirely ouch.
Meanwhile over at The Atlantic I found an article that explains the concept of deep time in a way that actually allows my tiny brain to grasp it.
It's head-spinning, and terrifying, but also strangely calming: none of this everyday shit matters, literally none of it.
Not a great day for photos today. Bus stop workout guy came back, with a skipping rope rather than dance moves this time, and two magpies spent the day carrying twigs back to the tree outside my window to build a nest.
If I had a better camera, and cleaner windows, I might've got good photos of these things.
As it is, we'll have to make to with this.
Abstract Bokeh From Sparkly Christmas Cracker Remnant (Visual Stim):
He's the closest thing to an angel I've ever seen.
The thread also contains clips of rollerskate tapdancing from Donald O'Connor and Fred & Ginger. It is impossible not to feel happier after watching them.
Went hunting in old bookmarks for the link to a DIY haircut YouTube tutorial that resulted in perfect layers circa 2014. Couldn't find it, but got to revisit these beauts:
Bloke round the corner from me regularly leaves stacks of old records outside his house, free for anybody to have a rummage through and take what they want.
It's usually a load of old crap but beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I have been very pleased to retrieve many excellent if badly scratched 1980s compliation albums from the pile.
Plus such gems as:
Through The Past Darkly (Big Hits Vol.2) by The Rolling Stones with the sleeve corners mysteriously cut off to form an octagon;
Abacab by Genesis complete with Virgin Value sticker;
The 7" single of Take On Me by Aha (a welcome addition to my record collection now, but I hated it when it came out.)
It's too upsetting to think about the ones I left behind to "pick up on the way back" - from the park, from Sainsburys - and then forgot about.
#NP:
Da Da Da has a scratch in exactly the right place to create an eternal track, the jump so smooth you don't even notice it's stuck. Like the perfectly edited trampoline gif of your dreams. Sometimes I just leave it playing.
Love Is A Stranger and Starmaker's scratches turn them into Disintegration Loops.
I love records. Thanks Mr Record Man for all the freebies.
Felt cheerful all day, until I thought about going to work on Monday or knuckling down to any uni work. Then I felt shaky and tearful.
Music, Twitter, drawing and denial it is then.
Have done very little drawing since 2005 (long story) but today I thought I'd have a go. Started to copy a photo I found in Slovakia by Karel Plicka, a library book I never want to give back.
Ran out of steam after about half an hour, but hey, small steps.
Maybe going public with it will make me finish it off?
"We had no paper, we had no pens, but we had our bodies, traditional ink and tools to mark our skin. The body was used as a canvas, and that was one way for our ancestors to pass down knowledge. My malu therefore does not belong to me, but to my community."
"We sampled cheeses, ate delicious thin crust cheese pizza, and signed up for a cheese making session where we made mascarpone."
I miss holidays.
There was some Neurodiversity Twitter stuff I needed to see:
It's been quite the ride trying to get my head around the fact I'm suddenly "disabled" and what was always normal for me is not actually that normal according to normal people.
Today's photo: When It Rains And Shines, It's Just A State Of Mind
If I keep this up, in two days time I will have blogged something - anything - any old shit but who cares, it's an online scrapbook/diary for me not for you, Karen - every day for an entire month.
Toot toot!
Small steps to claw my way back to the land of the living after 10 impossible years.
Anyway, let's not celebrate til the 32nd January; there is always time to let a good habit slide.
Not a bad day today.
Spoke to my new student support person, Judith, who promised to help with the scatterbrain quagmire and gave me some homework to do for Monday.
Because it's small easy homework and not big impossible homework and it doesn't actually matter if I do it or not, there's a fair chance I'll actually get it done, if only to impress her (fight? flight? freeze? FAWN ✔).
There was an afternoon seminar on Teams where I became transfixed by the slightly bad painting of a dog on the wall behind the tutor's head.
(They probably discussed coursework, I dunno.)
And then - at last - at three minutes past five - I got the critical review back.
Apparently it's a common autistic thing: if you're waiting for some specific thing to happen, that's all you CAN do - wait.
Expecting a phone call at lunchtime? Out of action all morning while you anticipate that phone call. Upcoming appointment? All bets off for the rest of the day/week/month, you're in a state of suspended animation until the appointment is over. It's really good fun.
I've been waiting for the marks to come through since Wednesday, so that could explain why I've been feeling particularly stuck these last few days.
Anyway it was ok. I passed. 75%. This is my lowest (lowest!) grade so far.
WHY DO I WORRY SO MUCH??
I can start worrying about the essay that's due in next Friday now.
There is a stuffed frog museum in Split, Croatia, "comprised of 21 exhibits which show thematically arranged frogs."
I do like a nice thematically arranged frog so have added it to my list of places to visit (the dachshund museum and the Arnie museum are also on this list).
Book Twitter came up trumps with this excellent exposé of what those bookseller descriptions REALLY mean:
"5 tweets in and we have learned nothing. you are welcome."
"we'll say faded, or 'lightly browned' or 'a little tired' when what we mean is 'this book has grazed the abyss'"
"'sophisticated' literally means 'the book is a fake'.
'extra-illustrated' means 'someone cut up and pasted a bunch of images inside the book like the love child of picasso and edward scissorhands'"
I loved the attitude of this nature girl, "coming at [survival] from a place of relationship rather than brute strength and dominance."
Girl? She's in her 40s.
"“When we use the word ‘survival’,” she says, “it implies that the world
is somehow out to get us. That we have to grit our teeth and endure it,
to survive against all odds. That’s the polar opposite of my approach,
which involves a sense of belonging...”"
Thought that was great and needed to hear it. Living in Britain at the moment quite literally feels like a struggle to survive, but maybe a tweak of mindset could make it feel less grim.
Someone tweeted the Vic and Bob George Michael 'Stars in Your Eyes' clip:
I was in the audience for the filming of this. It's been cut down for TV, but in the studio the George Michael dancing went on for ever and got funnier the longer it went on - the Kristen Schaal is a Horse effect - and I laughed so much I genuinely feared for my life because there was delirium and I couldn't breathe (the Kung Fu Kapers effect).
Good times. I miss those days.
And obviously I've not been able to listen to Faith since without it making me grin.
(Spoiler: "numbers 1 to 599 are for your everyday day routes; school day services
are numbered 600 to 699; 700 to 899 are for regional and national coach
services.")
The paper aeroplane guy reminded me of the year I lived with a friend and during that year I picked up every interesting thing I found discarded on the pavement and stuck it to my bedroom door:
The friend called it a testament to my insanity but I called it art.
The Roman road map made me want to get out exploring long distance again. How I miss my road trip adventures.
In 2017 I drove on a whim to Shrewsbury after reading John Higgs' book about Watling Street and in 2019 I poked my snoot into Milton Keynes while en route to somewhere else, for the same reason.
I grew up on Watling Street (the Medway Towns part) so feel a connection to this ancient byway and was curious to see other bits of it. I hadn't realised before I read the book it went all the way to Wales.
This is what Watling Street looks like at Wroxeter, in case you're interested:
John Higgs also wrote the most amazing book about the KLF which you should probably read immediately. The burning the million pounds thing sort of ties in with the Break Down thing I mentioned yesterday - I'm totally impressed by these deliberate acts of destruction and secretly wish I had the balls to do that with all my shit.
While we're on the subject of the KLF I might as well link to this Twitter thread that brought me exceptional joy today. And they say you should never meet your heroes.
I think the reason I might be struggling with university is that my ADHD brain is entirely cut out for browsing on an endless conveyor belt of interesting tidbits (i.e. Twitter), and not at all cut out for massively long lectures on subjects I'm not that interested in.
I've had a week of various random, maskless men invading my cramped, poorly ventilated work space.
The one who was crashing around this morning taking photos and ignoring me when I asked him twice to put a mask on turned out to be a manager doing a Covid risk assessment.
At which point I lost it. Trying not to cry/flappy hands in front of the boss kind of thing.
For my sanity I'm staying at home for the rest of the week.
Maybe next week too. Fuck that place. Fuck everything.
Drove (in tears) from work to Lidl where I stocked up on food for seven days and bought myself a bunch of cheerful flowers because they were lovely, because I needed them, and because I am fortunate enough to be able to do so.
Then went home to sit dazed for a while.
A tweet stopped me in my tracks:
I love this writer's precision. Their tweets always make me pause.
This one caught my eye because I write every day too, just to stop the thoughts clogging up in my head. Longhand in the mornings, this blog at night. It's the only routine I can to stick to.
But then I saw that "moving as much as I can against the lockdown thought-gravity."
Wow.
Those words hit home. I let them sink in a while.
They were exactly right.
So what's working for you, Twitter person who is able to express with such perfect brevity how life feels right now? I clicked on that Worldwide FM link. Very unlike me but I browsed until I found something I could live with then let it play quietly in the background all day. It's been good. It's been reaffirming. Voices, music, to remind me of life. It's normally dismally silent in here.
After that I went to bed and slept deeply; and woke refreshed, for the first time in centuries.
Thanks once again, Twitter, for getting me through a bad day.
'Like witnessing my own funeral': Michael Landy on Break Down (Break Down is something I think about a lot, being engaged in my own eternal battle with 'stuff', so it was good to suddenly find an article on it. I will never not wonder what it might feel like to do what Landy did)
It was Holocaust Memorial Day today. I thought about my 2019 visit to Bergen-Belsen, and all the stumble-stones I've come across while travelling in Europe. This is another thing I think about a lot.
The latter's Unofficial ADHD Test for Adults is genuinely hilarious as well as educational and it was quite the emotional rollercoaster too:
Scored about a million points (lost count obvs) and actually screamed when he mentioned having to walk with a group of slow-moving people, omg omg, FLASHBACKS.
I'm writing this early - afternoon rather than last thing at night - because I just want to close the laptop and not stare at any more screens today. I'm sure all this screentime is what's doing my head in. I feel ok when I go work for my two hours per day and hang out with actual human beings.
And birds. My post-walk strolls down to the river paid dividends this morning. Armed with birdseed, I've been gradually winning the trust of my robin pal. Today he flew straight onto my hand and stayed there for ages.
Went to the park this morning straight after work, where I found a bit of a bird bonanza.
All the usual suspects, but also someone unexpected:
This guy was being hassled by jays, and then some crows came along to give him a hard time too.
He finally found refuge in this tree where he sat for a while pondering where his life had gone wrong.
Somebody said he was a harris hawk - an American import, so escaped from somewhere. He's been knocking around Cardiff since October. A woman showed me a photo on her phone of him in her mum's back garden eating a pigeon.
What an exciting morning.
Sadly, I lost all momentum after getting home.
Couldn't do a thing except curl up and cry.
Some days lockdown's more or less tolerable, and other days it's beyond hard. I had nothing today: nothing to fight these horror-times with. I couldn't bear it.
