…but it’s all fake D-:…
…I don’t usually d these kinds of things because people don’t generally care, but this one is actually quite interesting. Stolen from Lucy :-3
10 facts about my room.
It has been my room since birth.
It used to be red and black.
It’s full of books.
I spend more time here than anywhere else.
There are secret drawings under the wallpaper/paint which I drew at 8 y/o.
It needs MOAR storage.
It has a mirror along one whole wall
Some *RUDE* things have happened in here. Hahaha.
It has a bed in it which gives people mysterious leg cramps. No-one is immune
I wish it wasn’t my room.
9 facts about my family.
I have a younger sister, Joanne.
I don’t get on with my sister or my mother whatsoever.
My grandparents are dead.
My maternal grandmother was a tarot card reader/crazy mystic type
My full family is very small.
My family tree includes Norwegians and South Africans.
Most of us live in Leicestershire.
My Dad is Chuck Norris.
None of them are very interesting.
8 facts about my body
It’s too big.
It has this lovely habit of having seizures. (Hah Lucy, so true-!
I have an arrhythmia.
I have curly toes.
I’m shorter than people think, apparently.
I have a shaved head.
It has boobs, which I want removing.
It is badly proportioned
7 facts about my childhood
I swam for Leicestershire.
I spent a lot of time in Neurology units.
I played a load of musical instruments.
I was *obsessed* by geology.
I “worked” at an equestrian school and did a lot of horse riding.
I wrote a book.
I had some weird friends.
6 facts about my home town.
Home of the Melton Mowbray pork pie.
The first man convicted using DNA profiling lived 2 streets from my house.
We have a place called “Raw Dykes Road”.
Our Rugby team is rather good.
It was the home of Danny Lambert.
It was also the birthplace of Joseph Merrick.
5 facts about my bestfriend(s).
I don’t have any “best friends”.
4 facts about my parents.
I dislike my mother.
My dad is awesome.
I have no idea why they’re still together.
My dad’s a mechanic and my mother is an office thing.
3 facts about my personality.
It’s fairly changeable, like everyone’s.
It’s generally cheerful.
2 facts about my favourite things.
The first one is a naughty thing
So is the second one. I say.
1 fact about the person I like .
Right, before I say anything, I want to make this clear; this isn’t aimed at anyone specific, just some thoughts that have been passing through my head the last few days after having epilepsy issues. I don’t believe in petty passive-aggressive nonsense, if you piss me off, you are likely to hear about it in person (which is rare anyway, it takes a mighty large amount of flak to annoy me to start with) not from some ridiculous post on Tumblr or Facebook saying something along the lines of “Some people need to STFU” or similar so, just some thoughts right here.
I was having a look at Clutterfly jewellry not so long ago; it’s not my thing really - I prefer futuristic rather than retro - but I can see the appeal to those who enjoy that retro vibe. Anyway, one thing caught my eye and started my brain-cogs spinning after I was all post-ictal; “broken” heart necklace.
What it made me think of, rather than being broken-hearted, is how actually being “broken” or “wrong” or “sick” is somehow seen as some kind of badge of honour amongst the alternative community. You can hear no end of people boasting about their depression, their illness, how “broken” they are, as if it is some kind of special trait that sets them apart from the mainstream guys. Similarly, how can you wear a tshirt which has “FREAK” splashed across the boobs and then expect people to treat you normally? You’ve already set yourself apart- the attention is driving it.
Well, newsflash, normal people have problems too. They just don’t use it as an excuse to make themselves look cool. Instead of making a big deal out of your problems, how about keeping it between you, your close friends, family and GP? It doesn’t elevate you on some pedestal of brokenness, you’re not cooler than anyone else for being prescribed a pile of drugs, these things are not things to show off and somehow be “proud” of as those of us who *do* have genuine problems (maybe speaking for myself here lol) would give ANYTHING to be rid of them.
So, can we please stop promoting about how your brokenness is a *good* thing and start focusing on your traits which are actually positive please?
I ate too much. I think I might be in a protein coma. Helpp meeee
Went out, got drunk, had a dance and a fantastic time, now back in bed. Glad I went out, thankful to Nicky for offering lifts ^_^
I hate being shitty with people, but I’m a bit miffed this evening. I’ve had a stressful week at work and this weekend I could really, really do with going out and just having social funtimes with my friends, I asked Rik if he was coming round this weekend on Thursday and he said he’d have to give it a miss because he was finishing a demo to submit to his record label. This is fine, no problems; he then suggested that if he got it finished, we could go to Autonomy this weekend.
I’ve been trying to contact him all day to arrange something this evening, he’s pretty much been ignoring my texts and messages through Facebook. I finally managed to get in touch and “Oh sorry my phone was in my coat”. Ok; no excuse for ignoring FB messages though. He’s managed to get the demo finished anyway, but he arranged today to meet up with his friend Adam for a few drinks this evening, so no Autonomy.
Now, I don’t really mind him hanging with his friends, just a bit pissed because I’ve had a bastard of a week, which he’s known about, yet no nice messages of support or offers to come and see me. Also now no Autonomy. If you’re wondering why I don’t just *go*, well, I don’t like catching taxis on my own; said taxi costs £12 each way and neither will I catch a bus on my own in full cyber gear when the bus is packed with chav scum.
Not happy :-(