No word of a lie to you, I'm pretty scared.
Not in the sense of oh shit, there's a spider scared, mind. And you've probably guessed what it is about.
Yes, it's that thing that I mentioned before. Sleep.
Ever since the happenings from my last post, I have been feeling extremely paranoid about falling to sleep. As the clock at the top right of the screen on my Macbook graces ever closer to the late night, my brain just begins a cycle of panic and doubt.
I can't deny it, and I won't deny it. I fucking well hate sleep. I've never liked it. The more that I exist, the more I think sleep is just natures way to steal hours from our lives from under our noses. But it's a hate-hate relationship. I hate sleep, and by raisins it hates me too.
But, and it's just a guess, I think sleep hates me more than I hate it.
After the whole thing last Tuesday, I've had some minor versions of it happen at a rate of once every two to three days. Last night's sleep is an example. I went to bed at about half one, and then half an hour after, I wake up, feeling extremely bizarre.
But, I have found out something that is rather curious. This is happened exactly, nearly, a year ago. This is the first mention of when my problems with sleep occurred first. Look at the date. What is it? January the sixteenth, 2010, with this being the second mention, eight days after.
Now, look at the date of my last post. Eleventh of January. Roughly a year ago.
One thing that will make me panic, is either if this thing will occur next year. And, if so, what sort of period of time am I looking at. Or, will it only be in January when I have these fuckups in the sleep department? No idea.
There is only one thing that I definitely know for now. For the next few weeks, I will feel rather nervous about going to sleep.
I think I need help.
There is two possibilities that could be the reason that I have problems like these with sleep. The first, which kind of fixed it the last time, was vitamin deficiency. After the first few times that the whole sleep paranoia happened, my mother advised me to take Berocca. I have no idea if that is the right way to spell it, but then again who gives a shit.
This time, even though I've started to take Berocca again, my mother believes that it could be something else. Caffeine. I could have a caffeine intolerance, meaning that if I have too much of it, I have trouble sleeping. Though, this might not be the case, as I have consumed products that contain caffeine (such as coke and tea) for ages, so maybe not that then.
I'm hoping to see a doctor soon about it. Maybe then they'll find out something about me that I fear. I don't care if that sounds pathetic. If you found out something about you that's wrong with you, no matter how small, you'll (probably) feel a bit worried, yeah?
I don't know. Maybe it's just my brain trying to tell me to stop being an arsehole.
Time will tell, eh?
- Mr Sandman, give me a FIN.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Revenge Of The Myth
It happened again.
You know before, I had problems sleeping which was fixed somehow by the magic of Berocca. Well, I had forgotten to take them for weeks now, and it seems like my sleeping pattern has gotten worse every day since, which ended up with my worst experience I've ever had.
For the past few weeks, I've found myself waking up early in the morning, sweating like a bitch. I know, you didn't need to know that, but it gives you an idea on how I've been sleeping up to now. I've been sleeping rather fine for the past few days, to be fair. I've woken up earlier and went to bed relatively late. But I wasn't tired, it was just a minor inconvenience, really.
Last night, at about two-ish in the morning, I finally decided to go to sleep. The next thing I knew, I was having a nightmare. I can't tell you exactly what it was about, because I hate you. No, that's a lie. I just cannot remember properly what the dream was. All I remember of the dream is that I felt that I was being sucked into a piece of metal. A form of suffocation and falling rolled into one hell of a dream.
The problem was that it was not the fact that I had the dream, I've had worse dreams than that before and coped (relatively) well with it. It's the fact that I've had some sort of a hallucination.
I woke up, screaming. At this point, I still felt that I was being sucked into some metal. I was screaming so much, that my sister thought that it was the dog barking. They rushed in, they being my sisters and my mother, and they just hugged me (well, one of my sisters went to get me a cup of tea). Why they hugged me? I guess it was because I was shaking and crying. I know that makes me sound like a weak wazzock, I'm not bothered.
As I regained sanity, I realised what the situation is. I was there, in my mother's arms, staring at the floor, realising that it was just a bad dream. I knew at that point that I have something wrong with me. No idea what, but it seems to be something that can be easily fixed by drinking a Berocca once a day. The one thing I thought during all this was that I had woken everyone else up. I think it freaked everyone out. Me especially.
I know, this isn't a good subject for a blog. That, and it makes me look like a mentalist who can only be calmed down by his mother. I don't know, I just wanted to document this. I fucking well hope that anything like this happens again. I'm sure you'll hear about it if it does.
Fuck.
- Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the FIN
You know before, I had problems sleeping which was fixed somehow by the magic of Berocca. Well, I had forgotten to take them for weeks now, and it seems like my sleeping pattern has gotten worse every day since, which ended up with my worst experience I've ever had.
For the past few weeks, I've found myself waking up early in the morning, sweating like a bitch. I know, you didn't need to know that, but it gives you an idea on how I've been sleeping up to now. I've been sleeping rather fine for the past few days, to be fair. I've woken up earlier and went to bed relatively late. But I wasn't tired, it was just a minor inconvenience, really.
Last night, at about two-ish in the morning, I finally decided to go to sleep. The next thing I knew, I was having a nightmare. I can't tell you exactly what it was about, because I hate you. No, that's a lie. I just cannot remember properly what the dream was. All I remember of the dream is that I felt that I was being sucked into a piece of metal. A form of suffocation and falling rolled into one hell of a dream.
The problem was that it was not the fact that I had the dream, I've had worse dreams than that before and coped (relatively) well with it. It's the fact that I've had some sort of a hallucination.
I woke up, screaming. At this point, I still felt that I was being sucked into some metal. I was screaming so much, that my sister thought that it was the dog barking. They rushed in, they being my sisters and my mother, and they just hugged me (well, one of my sisters went to get me a cup of tea). Why they hugged me? I guess it was because I was shaking and crying. I know that makes me sound like a weak wazzock, I'm not bothered.
As I regained sanity, I realised what the situation is. I was there, in my mother's arms, staring at the floor, realising that it was just a bad dream. I knew at that point that I have something wrong with me. No idea what, but it seems to be something that can be easily fixed by drinking a Berocca once a day. The one thing I thought during all this was that I had woken everyone else up. I think it freaked everyone out. Me especially.
I know, this isn't a good subject for a blog. That, and it makes me look like a mentalist who can only be calmed down by his mother. I don't know, I just wanted to document this. I fucking well hope that anything like this happens again. I'm sure you'll hear about it if it does.
Fuck.
- Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the FIN
Friday, December 31, 2010
Dawn Of A Decade
Yes. I'm going to do a repeat of what I did this time last year with my Diweddglo post. How must you have waited eagerly for this.
As you know from the other thirty seven blog posts I've written this year, this year is what you could call a Wicid year. No, not in the manner as in "it's been a well ace year, wicked bruv," no.
Since the twenty seventh of January this year, I've been helping out with Wicid, and since late February I've been the sub-editor for the site. Since then, my year has been kind of run by Wicid. I've written shitloads of stuff for it, with about under a third of everything I've written going up to Clic. Since Clic don't allow any type of drivel up to the site, this must mean that I have something good about me when I write. Though, I don't really understand what is good about it. Fuck, I don't even think I have a good writing manner. I just write how I speak. That's why there are some terrible grammatical mistakes.
But, it has made me question something. Am I actually good at writing? I really don't think so. The only reason I have this blog is to vent out some opinions that I don't have the confidence to do in the real world. That's why I'm unsure about the Dear World series that I write for Wicid. Is there any point in me carrying on writing it when all it does it just give my opinions and feelings on the most pointless subject matters? No idea.
One thing that I've just realised is that I hate Winter. Why? Because it feels like it brings shrouds of doubt and pessimism into my life. I mean, I was looking at all the fireworks displays from countries that are already in 2011, and the only thing I can think of is "we were in an economical crisis not long ago, why are they wasting money on celebrating the entrance of 2010?".
And this brings me to another point. I need a new outlook on life. For the past few years, I've seen the world through monotonous eyes. Either it is, or it isn't. I can't really describe what my outlook on life is at this moment, bit all I can say for sure that even though I can see happiness and all that everywhere I look, all I can think of is the depression that grips this world, the hatred that fills it and the devastation that is left in it by bastards of it.
See? Now, I know that people may see me as a twat. A big fucking twat who belittles everyone that doesn't see the same way as I do. That is not true. I just have an odd view on life. I wish I can change, but I probably won't. Fuck.
In other news, the one thing that this year has shown me is that I bloody well want to start a band. I keep saying this, but I really hope that I actually do something happens with it. Currently, I'm either in one band or two. Not sure exactly what the situation is really, all I know that I'm at least in one band with Burt and Michael (who is my cousin on my mother's side, I'm only stating that since I have two cousins called Michael), and I am the bassist.
The first possible one is with Burt's lady friend as a vocalist, and the possible name of the band is something like MGBG or something like that. No idea what genre we're aiming at, mind. The last possible one would be Michael's current band, Levin Street. There's been some issues with the bassist and the singer. So, me and Burt's might fit in as a bassist and lead guitar respectively (I guess that the current guitarist will take a rhythm role and maybe a vocalist line).
So, I'm in a band (possibly) as a bassist. Now all I need is two more bands as a rhythm guitarist and a drummer (though I may be in another band with Burt and Calum in a band for metal-style music). Happy days.
Sorry that I cannot keep my blogs in a more straightforward manner, I have the need to explain myself all the time.
Anyway, one thing that got me thinking recently was my fellow blogger, RuhBuhJuh, and this post. He goes on about being average. One thing that got me thinking was the point about where he mentions that another fellow blogger (though, he doesn't blog much these days), Snefru7, and his natural ability with the guitar.
It got me thinking, and I know this might sound egotistical of me. Do I have any natural talent?
I can't answer that, to be honest. I mean, I taught myself everything that I'm novice at, which is Photoshop, bass guitar, guitar and drums. So, if teaching yourself something counts as a natural talent, then I might have a small talent. Granted, I taught myself all these at least a year ago. Hopefully I'd teach myself some more things this year.
But in every other manner, I have no talent. I had to work rather hard to get up to the level that I am at everything I taught myself (which is novice level). I used to be good at mathematics, and now that's gone down the shitter. Fuck. RuhBuhJuh gave me something that will hopefully stay with me for a while. And that is what, I hear you cry. Well, I know that I'm (less than) average, I just hope I can do stuff that will make my less average than others.
Right, I'm not going to bore you further. Well, just a little further. I gave myself four targets last year, which I failed miserably. So, I'm going to give myself some more targets for this year. Yeah, I'm sad. These are mainly for me really, like a documentation of my failure. Lovely. Ah well, here's the targets (well, hopes really) for 2011...
But yeah, I hope you lot have a good year this year. See you on the other side.
- Last of the summer FIN.
As you know from the other thirty seven blog posts I've written this year, this year is what you could call a Wicid year. No, not in the manner as in "it's been a well ace year, wicked bruv," no.
Since the twenty seventh of January this year, I've been helping out with Wicid, and since late February I've been the sub-editor for the site. Since then, my year has been kind of run by Wicid. I've written shitloads of stuff for it, with about under a third of everything I've written going up to Clic. Since Clic don't allow any type of drivel up to the site, this must mean that I have something good about me when I write. Though, I don't really understand what is good about it. Fuck, I don't even think I have a good writing manner. I just write how I speak. That's why there are some terrible grammatical mistakes.
But, it has made me question something. Am I actually good at writing? I really don't think so. The only reason I have this blog is to vent out some opinions that I don't have the confidence to do in the real world. That's why I'm unsure about the Dear World series that I write for Wicid. Is there any point in me carrying on writing it when all it does it just give my opinions and feelings on the most pointless subject matters? No idea.
One thing that I've just realised is that I hate Winter. Why? Because it feels like it brings shrouds of doubt and pessimism into my life. I mean, I was looking at all the fireworks displays from countries that are already in 2011, and the only thing I can think of is "we were in an economical crisis not long ago, why are they wasting money on celebrating the entrance of 2010?".
And this brings me to another point. I need a new outlook on life. For the past few years, I've seen the world through monotonous eyes. Either it is, or it isn't. I can't really describe what my outlook on life is at this moment, bit all I can say for sure that even though I can see happiness and all that everywhere I look, all I can think of is the depression that grips this world, the hatred that fills it and the devastation that is left in it by bastards of it.
See? Now, I know that people may see me as a twat. A big fucking twat who belittles everyone that doesn't see the same way as I do. That is not true. I just have an odd view on life. I wish I can change, but I probably won't. Fuck.
In other news, the one thing that this year has shown me is that I bloody well want to start a band. I keep saying this, but I really hope that I actually do something happens with it. Currently, I'm either in one band or two. Not sure exactly what the situation is really, all I know that I'm at least in one band with Burt and Michael (who is my cousin on my mother's side, I'm only stating that since I have two cousins called Michael), and I am the bassist.
The first possible one is with Burt's lady friend as a vocalist, and the possible name of the band is something like MGBG or something like that. No idea what genre we're aiming at, mind. The last possible one would be Michael's current band, Levin Street. There's been some issues with the bassist and the singer. So, me and Burt's might fit in as a bassist and lead guitar respectively (I guess that the current guitarist will take a rhythm role and maybe a vocalist line).
So, I'm in a band (possibly) as a bassist. Now all I need is two more bands as a rhythm guitarist and a drummer (though I may be in another band with Burt and Calum in a band for metal-style music). Happy days.
Sorry that I cannot keep my blogs in a more straightforward manner, I have the need to explain myself all the time.
Anyway, one thing that got me thinking recently was my fellow blogger, RuhBuhJuh, and this post. He goes on about being average. One thing that got me thinking was the point about where he mentions that another fellow blogger (though, he doesn't blog much these days), Snefru7, and his natural ability with the guitar.
It got me thinking, and I know this might sound egotistical of me. Do I have any natural talent?
I can't answer that, to be honest. I mean, I taught myself everything that I'm novice at, which is Photoshop, bass guitar, guitar and drums. So, if teaching yourself something counts as a natural talent, then I might have a small talent. Granted, I taught myself all these at least a year ago. Hopefully I'd teach myself some more things this year.
But in every other manner, I have no talent. I had to work rather hard to get up to the level that I am at everything I taught myself (which is novice level). I used to be good at mathematics, and now that's gone down the shitter. Fuck. RuhBuhJuh gave me something that will hopefully stay with me for a while. And that is what, I hear you cry. Well, I know that I'm (less than) average, I just hope I can do stuff that will make my less average than others.
Right, I'm not going to bore you further. Well, just a little further. I gave myself four targets last year, which I failed miserably. So, I'm going to give myself some more targets for this year. Yeah, I'm sad. These are mainly for me really, like a documentation of my failure. Lovely. Ah well, here's the targets (well, hopes really) for 2011...
- Do well in university. That's a given.
- Get better at all instruments. I'll make a detailed list of what level I'd like to get at the instruments of choice.
- Improve my Welsh. Right now, it is at a shocking level compared to my fiends in my year at school. I want to keep my ability of speaking Welsh, fact.
- Save money. I haven't done too badly this year, I just need to do more.
- Do better when helping out with Wicid. All I've done really is write a lot of articles and edit some of the article in the back end. Maybe I could be more involved somehow.
- I'm not even going to bother having a 'could there be someone special in 2011' one here. Obviously there won't be anyone. Ah, forever alone. Ha.
But yeah, I hope you lot have a good year this year. See you on the other side.
- Last of the summer FIN.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Heaven Help You Catch Me When I Fall
Don't ask about the title. No idea why I called it that.
I want to ask your advice.
How can I make myself not look like a drug dealer in photographs?
I mean, look at this... And if you hadn't guessed, I'm the one wearing the grey hoodie...
I look like I've just scored a hit, and eyeing down some pimp who won't give me more drugs. I mean, look at me. If you can handle looking at the hideousness that is my face for longer than three seconds. I really look like I'm high on drugs.
My thought is that my pictures look like I'm high on wacky-backy all the time because I'm a clean boy. I do not delve into alcoholism nor do I jump into drugs. Doubt that's the fact. Ah well.
Seriously, all my photos look like that. Well either that or what my display picture looks like on Facebook and Twitter. Or, for those who cannot be arsed to visit the links, here it be.
See? Isn't this a better picture of me? As you cannot see my faux drug-filled face. Nice.
This is one reason why I hate having my photograph taken. I either look high or pissed. Or both. Or if someone's pissed on me. Well, you get the picture. And even if I do have my photo taken, my first instinct is to stick my arm out and show you the finger of dread. Or, my photographic finger.
Ah, I am glad that I'm one of these people who can take the piss out of themselves and everyone can agree on it. Lovely.
In other news, I have none. Apart from the fact that I broke a plate about ten minutes ago. I tried to microwave a pizza. Well, I did microwave a pizza, I just tried to cut it with a pair of scissors, and then the pizza and the plate decided on going on a business trip to have a discussion on how to waste people's time with the floor. It was a successful meeting. Shit.
Well, I shall leave you for the time being. I have to finish two essays, two websites and a CD cover before the holidays end. Lovely. Not only that, it is likely that I'll write something either later or tomorrow to "review" my year. God, don't I sound like a prick...
- Have you heard the news that you're FIN?
I want to ask your advice.
How can I make myself not look like a drug dealer in photographs?
I mean, look at this... And if you hadn't guessed, I'm the one wearing the grey hoodie...
 |
| As you can guess, I didn't take the photograph, so this photograph belongs to the one who took the image, who is called Angharad Price. I think... |
My thought is that my pictures look like I'm high on wacky-backy all the time because I'm a clean boy. I do not delve into alcoholism nor do I jump into drugs. Doubt that's the fact. Ah well.
Seriously, all my photos look like that. Well either that or what my display picture looks like on Facebook and Twitter. Or, for those who cannot be arsed to visit the links, here it be.
 |
| Ah, finally a face that a mother could love... |
This is one reason why I hate having my photograph taken. I either look high or pissed. Or both. Or if someone's pissed on me. Well, you get the picture. And even if I do have my photo taken, my first instinct is to stick my arm out and show you the finger of dread. Or, my photographic finger.
Ah, I am glad that I'm one of these people who can take the piss out of themselves and everyone can agree on it. Lovely.
In other news, I have none. Apart from the fact that I broke a plate about ten minutes ago. I tried to microwave a pizza. Well, I did microwave a pizza, I just tried to cut it with a pair of scissors, and then the pizza and the plate decided on going on a business trip to have a discussion on how to waste people's time with the floor. It was a successful meeting. Shit.
Well, I shall leave you for the time being. I have to finish two essays, two websites and a CD cover before the holidays end. Lovely. Not only that, it is likely that I'll write something either later or tomorrow to "review" my year. God, don't I sound like a prick...
- Have you heard the news that you're FIN?
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