Today has been another one of those days where I have struggled to get into the rhythm of things. As I have said before, I see each new day as an opportunity to make changes to my life. To become more productive, more streamline, more…human. To do things to make me proud of myself.
About a month ago, had something of a breakdown at my ‘real-life’ job. It’s not a particularly hard job – in fact, it’s quite easy at face value, but the amount of nonsense that gets piled on you from the heady heights of lower-middle-management is a little unbearable. Something has to give and, unfortunately for a little while, it was my sanity that gave way. My breakdown was followed by a lengthy chat with the doctor who prescribed me with anti-depressants.
(On a side note, just over a year ago we moved to Manchester from South Wales. If I’d have had this breakdown a year ago, I could have got my sanity pills for nothing instead of having to pay for chemicals that rewire my brain. I assume that’s how they work anyway.)
I have spent the last month trying to get my head straight. I have had a great deal of time to reflect on myself. It’s not always easy to like what I see.
Enough maudlin talk! Today I have had a good day. It started off a little slow. I woke up late and say around for a little while eating a very large bowl off Crunchy Nut, which has to be the most distinguished food I have ever eaten, and watching Black Mirror: White Christmas. If I had even 1% of Charlie Brooker’s talent for weaving dark, disturbing, complex and wholly & simultaneously believable and unbelievable stories as he does, I would consider myself very lucky.
I decided to spend today in Keri’s Gir hoody as I am still suffering from my cold and the weather outside is far from delightful. I got my hands on a compilation of the 100 best guitar solos and, as always, got caught up playing Freebird over and over. I absolutely adore that song. To the point where it was the only song I used to have on my phone and I listened to it on a loop whenever I was walking anywhere, and I walked a lot. I even came up with a unit of measurement called a ‘Freebird’ which was the distance I could walk in 9 minutes and 2 seconds. About a mile I think.
While I was furiously listening to this song, I actually managed to get something productive done. While we here at Bunbury do love using WordPress and Twitter and all the other sites, we have finally decided to make a proper website. I signed us up to Weebly, which seems to be the best editor for me to use at the moment. Just a drag-and-drop suite that even my technologically-feeble mind can cope with.
I also did some more editing today. Then when had an indian takeaway. That’s it really. Maybe tomorrow I might have some interesting thoughts. Some experiences to share. Here’s a poem:
She opens the door
to the fury of winter.
Comets of snow striking her
immediately on every part of her body.
A body unshielded from nature’s wrath.
She wades through the white carpet under her bare feet
to a dilapidated willow tree on the border of her garden.
She sits down and rests her head on the rotten bark
and closes her eyes, smiling,
letting the snow and fog from her mouth
drown her.
Her breathing slows,
the fog thins,
her skin turns blue.
She breathes her last.
Inside the kitchen, the stove is on
full heat, a pan boiling over,
violent bubbles rattling metal and spitting water onto
the rustically-wooden floor.
A stream forms,
breaking around muddy footprints and
tiding against discarded work boots
under the dining table.
About a month ago, had something of a breakdown at my ‘real-life’ job. It’s not a particularly hard job – in fact, it’s quite easy at face value, but the amount of nonsense that gets piled on you from the heady heights of lower-middle-management is a little unbearable. Something has to give and, unfortunately for a little while, it was my sanity that gave way. My breakdown was followed by a lengthy chat with the doctor who prescribed me with anti-depressants.
(On a side note, just over a year ago we moved to Manchester from South Wales. If I’d have had this breakdown a year ago, I could have got my sanity pills for nothing instead of having to pay for chemicals that rewire my brain. I assume that’s how they work anyway.)
I have spent the last month trying to get my head straight. I have had a great deal of time to reflect on myself. It’s not always easy to like what I see.
Enough maudlin talk! Today I have had a good day. It started off a little slow. I woke up late and say around for a little while eating a very large bowl off Crunchy Nut, which has to be the most distinguished food I have ever eaten, and watching Black Mirror: White Christmas. If I had even 1% of Charlie Brooker’s talent for weaving dark, disturbing, complex and wholly & simultaneously believable and unbelievable stories as he does, I would consider myself very lucky.
I decided to spend today in Keri’s Gir hoody as I am still suffering from my cold and the weather outside is far from delightful. I got my hands on a compilation of the 100 best guitar solos and, as always, got caught up playing Freebird over and over. I absolutely adore that song. To the point where it was the only song I used to have on my phone and I listened to it on a loop whenever I was walking anywhere, and I walked a lot. I even came up with a unit of measurement called a ‘Freebird’ which was the distance I could walk in 9 minutes and 2 seconds. About a mile I think.
While I was furiously listening to this song, I actually managed to get something productive done. While we here at Bunbury do love using WordPress and Twitter and all the other sites, we have finally decided to make a proper website. I signed us up to Weebly, which seems to be the best editor for me to use at the moment. Just a drag-and-drop suite that even my technologically-feeble mind can cope with.
I also did some more editing today. Then when had an indian takeaway. That’s it really. Maybe tomorrow I might have some interesting thoughts. Some experiences to share. Here’s a poem:
She opens the door
to the fury of winter.
Comets of snow striking her
immediately on every part of her body.
A body unshielded from nature’s wrath.
She wades through the white carpet under her bare feet
to a dilapidated willow tree on the border of her garden.
She sits down and rests her head on the rotten bark
and closes her eyes, smiling,
letting the snow and fog from her mouth
drown her.
Her breathing slows,
the fog thins,
her skin turns blue.
She breathes her last.
Inside the kitchen, the stove is on
full heat, a pan boiling over,
violent bubbles rattling metal and spitting water onto
the rustically-wooden floor.
A stream forms,
breaking around muddy footprints and
tiding against discarded work boots
under the dining table.