Thursday, 8 March 2012

A Tale Of Two Ciggies

The story of Garette.

He was carelessly traded by his smoker to another, on a whim. His new smoker nestled him in her green cage containing others that had not yet fulfilled their purpose. They all seemed to get on well, although these new ‘friends’ had a peculiar smell, he was just happy of the company. They laughed and joked about the Great Fire and placed bets on who would be next expended. It wasn’t long before the smoker selected the next candidate. As the cage opened, they saw for the first time how different they were to each other. Garette gasped at the uniformed rows of tall soldiers, much taller than he. They all wore white helmets adorned with a mint green slogan. He wore a brown helmet with a red slogan. Before he could think further than this, he realised they had seen how different he was too. They began mocking and heckling him. Even as their numbers dwindled, he still bore the brunt of their abuse and made a pact to himself.

'I swear to the Great Fire, when I am selected, I will not perform my duty to the best of my ability but instead I shall spark and spit and burn you all to the ground. None shall fulfil his expectancy. I shall show you all.'

He had fully expected to be picked last as he was sure the smoker was as prejudiced as the caged soldiers. To his surprise, there were at least four cadets eagerly awaiting their fate when he was elected. True to his word, he spat and sparked so much that he witnessed the birth of a small rutilant flicker that grew and grew; consuming the smoker and eventually engulfing the green cage where he had been vilified so much. Moments before his cessation , he looked around him with gratification. He had done all he’d said. He had proudly murdered them all.

Saturday, 3 March 2012

The Realness Of Idealness

Today would have usually been hell for me.

I had to set my alarm and unnaturally wake up which always fills me with a sense of dread and despair (probably from my monotonous working days), to go to the hairdressers. Although, I will admit, waking up to a loud noise isn’t so bad if it’s for a treat. I walked the five minutes to the hairdressers (which killed me as I haven’t been out of the house in over a week) and waited to be seen.

Once my name was called, I was enlivened to feel ‘new’ again as throughout my life, whenever I have felt like sacking it all in, I take a leaf out of Madonna’s book and reinvent myself. This never lasts long as the old, pessimistic me comes back to haunt me like an ugly ghost, tethered to my psyche. None the less, it has been keeping me alive this long.  So to say I was excited, is now too obvious.

I sat in the smooth black chair and explained exactly what I wanted. I showed the hairdresser a picture I had made on one of those makeover sites (where you put different hairstyles on); it was an edgy bob in the same colour as my hair to avoid (so I thought) any confusion.

Here is how it went:

“I want an edgy bob, just like this one, with layers because I like a lot of volume. Can you do that?” I asked.
“Do you want it black? Because your hair is already black” she replied.
“Umm, yes, I am aware of that (you half wit), I just want the bob please” I reiterated.
“Yes, OK then. Shall we book you in?” she chirped.

I had assumed I was already booked in as I had asked for a consultation and then a haircut if she could do the style I wanted (because who would wait?). Apparently this wasn’t the case. How nice. So after the five minute walk, the five minute wait and the fifty second conversation with the most perceptive and charming woman in the world, I left feeling angry and deflated.

For ‘normal’ people, this would have been annoying or a little set back, for me…this made me regret waking up at all. I was seething all the way home, cursing being alive, cursing ever leaving the house and vowing never to do it again. You may think I am a drama queen, but having severe depression, a ‘set back’ like this can have me reeling for days and maybe longer.

In the hopes of reinventing, a couple of days ago I went on a mini spree (online of course) and bought some new makeup and nail varnishes. The makeup came this morning, just before I set off to the hairdressers. I was excited to try it out and wear some for that day (for the extra confidence boost) but when I opened it, it was all wrong. The colours were completely different and it just wasn’t what I was expecting so that had already set my morning off badly.

Despite all of this happening (and the many other little things that went wrong today) I am not reeling. I am over it. This could be attributed to many factors, my medication being increased a couple of weeks ago, the support of my friend, finally starting to recover or it could be a mix of all three. Whatever the reason is, I am grateful as for once, I am not a raging ball of pent up aggression and disappointment. For tonight, I am peaceful, I simply do not care. Needless to say, when I do finally leave the house again to get my haircut, I shall not be going back there.