Not crazy, just tired…

February 24, 2012

Something odd happened this morning, Internet.

I woke up with a familar fuzzy-headedness that could well have been the fault of the wine consumed last night with a certain shiny friend of mine (Hi, Shiny!). But I don’t think so. You see, as I went about my morning routine I became aware that I was thinking in rhyme. You know when you do a little mental commentary of your actions and talk to yourself in the second person? It mostly happens when you’re a bit drunk, like this:

‘Now the reason you’re feeling a little bit sick is more likely to be this bumpy bus-driver than the amount of heineken you have just consumed, so don’t beat yourself up because that won’t help with the nausea. The main thing to do is remember where you’ve put your keys so that you don’t have to look for them on the doorstep because a) that’s where the muggers hang out and b) you already need a wee and that’s only going to get worse.’

Etc Etc

I refuse to believe that this is not a universally experienced symptom of intoxication. Sometimes I even nod to myself in agreement. I’m doing it now.

Anyway, this morning a similar thing happened but my brain must have slept on itself funny and it woke up with a crick in its interior monologue synapse (or IMS as it’s known in the completely made up school of neurology in which I am valedictorian), and this resulted in a completely involuntary urge to rhyme my thoughts in the following manner:

‘Half a cup of coffee in a mug for me, cool enough to drink by the time I’ve had a wee’

‘Don’t give into pressure from hungry little cat, calorie reduction will prevent him getting fat’

‘Don’t get distracted, there’s just no time, it’s a little perturbing, this thinking in rhyme’

‘Today must be productive, a PhD bonanza, failure not an option, do-de-doo-de-do-rananza’

(When the spirit of improvisation failed me, I just made words up. It was a compulsion, I couldn’t help it)

Anyway, I have added this strange phenomenon to the list of side-effects that I am compiling in order to submit them to the company that makes ‘Sleep Well’ herbal sleep tablets. They have been reasonably effective in their improvement of my recent bout of insomnia, and in all fairness they do warn you not to consume alcohol with a dose, but still… I think it only fair that they include the following in the list of possible side-effects:

  • Compulsive Rhyming
  • Impulsive gherkin-eating
  • Repulsive night sweats
  • Propulsive vomiting

According to google, two of the above are possible symptoms of pregnancy, and two of them are possible symptoms of stress and anxiety. I am fairly sure that my total clusterfuck of a reproductive system makes the latter explanation far more likely than the former yet neither account for why I would wake up one morning to find I am thinking in rhyme. Answers on a postcard to:

‘Fuct int ‘ead’ PO BOX: At least I’m not Dead (yet).

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An attempt at brevity…

December 9, 2011

Morning,

So. Without further ado, I’m going to finish telling you what I started to tell you yesterday about SuperCoach Bev (SCB) and my day of productivity on Wednesday.

It all began at 11am on Wednesday morning when SCB called and we spoke a bit about my difficulties with procrastination etc and why I didn’t have much faith in my ability to implement organisational strategies after years of obsessing over to-do-lists and timetables that I’ve never managed to stick to. Indeed, I think this is an experience to which many ADHDers can relate and so needs no further explanation. Because my posts tend to be quite text-heavy (and recent feedback suggests I might want to think about y’know, brevity), I am going to use a visual aid from the good people at xkcd.com (sorry about this, you have probably lost several hours since clicking on this link) to explain this phenomenon to the non-ADHers among you:

So yes, you see my problem. Anyway, SCB has come up with some crafty ideas to prevent this from happening and I’m going to be open-minded and give them a go. On Wednesday though, the conversation went like this:

SCB: What do you need to do today?

Me: Take my duvet to the dry cleaners because my cat pissed on it again, write a report on my student whose dissertation I am (laughably enough) supervising, and finish my PhD.

SCB: That might not be a realistic to-do-list. Let’s focus on the first two. It’s better to achieve those two things than not achieve anything because you’ve set an unrealistic goal.

Me: Good point. How do I achieve the first two things?

SCB: You half half an hr to get dressed and get out of the house, one hour to get back from the dry cleaners, and then you need to split up the work into 15-30 minute sessions with breaks in between. I will be phoning and texting at regular intervals to make sure you’re on track.

And she did! And I did it! It was an amazing brilliant feeling. I’m not sure whether it was the encouragement, the close supervision, or my need to please that made this work for me but I’m not questioning it. With the exception of two small kitchen fires, it was a really good day and I feel better.

My next step is to go back on the meds (I’ve actually been meaning to write a post about this since October). This is going to be a long step (more a lighthouse-like flight of stairs really)  consisting of many hundred gabillion steps which are as of yet unknowable but I am feeling hopeful, determined, motivated… It’s very unusual.

Anyway, yesterday I forgot it was Thursday (clearly not cured yet) so here’s my belated weekly Haiku for ADHD:

 

 

I love your blue coat—

Sorry, what were we saying?

I don’t remember.

 

Another Lesson Not Learned

December 1, 2011

So a couple of weeks ago I lost my passport. I was v annoyed with myself because it had been a good long while since I last lost anything. In fact, Internet, I think the last time I lost anything, y’know, important was the day I found the spare keys to my flat lying next to the wheelie bins. And I didn’t even know I’d lost them until I found them so that just doesn’t really count as lost.

Anyway, I realised the passport was lost some time ago but couldn’t remember when I’d last had it. Which didn’t give me much to go on in terms of retracing my steps (plus I had an uncomfortable feeling that it might have somehow got inside the book I posted to Cambridge last week. This has happened with a variety of objects including bank cards, library cards, to-do-lists, and my cat’s vaccination certificate). What I should have done, was ring some places I go to sometimes, ask if they had the passport, and if that investigation didn’t generate any promising leads then I could conclude it was, indeed, missing presumed dead, and reported it.

I didn’t.

Rather, I decided I’d look for it for a week first. Of course, other than repeatedly turning my handbag inside out (that’s where it’s usually kept) in disbelief, I didn’t do much looking. I asked the guy in the shop whether I’d left it on the shop counter when I’d been in to buy beer. He asked what it looked like. I said it just looked like a normal British passport. He asked if it had my name in. I left the shop in bewilderment.

After that, the trail went cold and despite the threat of identity theft, and lots of very sensible people advising me very sensibly to report it missing, I somehow just never got round to it. Fast forward to today. M and I are walking back from our place of work in the rain, squabbling about which of us should carry the umbrella, when a man we vaguely recognise from ‘about’ approaches us.

Man: Your passport is behind the bar in the Hobgoblin.

Me [with surprise and gratitude]: Squark! (Am not articulate when feeling both surprised and grateful at the same time – brain deletes words at random)

M: For fucks sake

Me: What? My passport has been found. Isn’t it a good thing I didn’t cancel it when you told me to. I told you it was better to wait and look for it.

M: But you weren’t looking for it. You didn’t look. At all.

Me: Well, it would appear I didn’t have to.

M: Another lesson not learned.

He has a point of course. These things have a habit of working themselves out and a small part of me never gives up hope that everything will resolve itself without me lifting a finger, despite all evidence indicating otherwise. When, as tends to happen, things do magically resolve themselves, this only reinforces my belief that in the face of possible identity theft or other dire consequence, the best place for my head is most definitely the sand.

In way of a conclusion Internet, I will offer no flourish, no moral message. and no sign-off. I will merely acknowledge that it is Thursday and serve up another meagre portion of the customary (it’s the third) Thursday Haiku for ADHD:

 

A picture of you:

Two years and the glass still cracked

Will mend it. One day.

 

Q: How many cups of tea…

November 14, 2011

does it take an ADHDer to write a PhD?

A: Not sure. Am on cup 5 and still counting.

Cup 1: Faff about.

Cup 2: Check blog stats. Notice that somebody searched for “restaurant bus” in russian. That’s автобус ресторан for anyone wondering.

Cup 3: Send some self-pitying texts about how much work I have to do. Modify plan.

Cup 4: Faff about. Check washing machine for napping cats. Put washing on. Realise once it’s too late that I forgot to add washing powder. I am reminded of the time I made biscuits and forgot to include the flour. But my childhood baking catastrophes are a tale that deserve a post of their own someday.

Cup 5: Open Word document upon which I have 800 of the 1500 words I need. Have some kind of minor brain melt and somehow accidentally disapperate and end up on WordPress relating the whole sorry tale.

Gahhh (or as oooshiny might say ‘shitpissfuckandbuggerybollocks’ – hi shiny!), I really need to sort myself out. Need to send work to Supervisor P by tonight latest. Need to get started now. Right this minute…

 

 

 

 

…I better just nip and pop the kettle on.

 

You Got Fail…

November 3, 2011

Good morning afternoon evening, Internet.

It’s 9.13 am. Today I am going to achieve the follwing:

1. Blog post – about things I’m going to achieve today.

2. Exercise – 30 mintues of entertaining mid-morning passengers on bus routes 36, 136, 171, and 177.

3. Shower – no explanation needed.

4. Go to Post Office to collect parcels that postman should have delivered but didn’t because he couldn’t be arsed to ring the doorbell so left “while you were out” cards instead. (I feel like crossing out the “while you were out” bit in angry red pen and changing it to “while you were in your flat patiently listening to door bell, not having a bath, or playing music, and generally postpoing all activities that could pose an obstacle to successful receipt of parcel.” And then posting said cards back to Royal Mail.)

5. Write 800 words of PhD thus attaining 8 points towards weekend reward.

12.19 pm: Haven’t yet achieved any of the above. Could’ve achieved step number 1 had it not been for reading new blog posts by other people and getting distracted. However since then, I’ve drunk some coffee, brushed the cats, and had a think. Thinking resulted in realisation that I might have got my priorites muddled and should maybe reorder list before embarking on it. Have now decided that list should read as follows:

1. Write 800 words of PhD

2. Go to Post Office

3. Exercise

4. Have shower (whichever way you look at it, this one needs to come after step 3)

5. Write blog post so can include paragraph on sense of achievement to be had from successful completion of five-point plan.

12.48 pm: Have just looked at Royal Mail cards and realised Post Office shuts at 1pm. Bollocks. Will have to go tomorrow. Have also realised that M is coming over tonight and therefore I will need to do the washing up and collect up the contents of my study from the living room and return them to the study. Revised list:

1. Write 800 words of PhD

2. Tidy Up

3. Exercise

4. Have shower

5. Write blog post.

14.43: Realised I had no coffee, cat food, or lightbulbs, and was quite hungry so went to Tescos. Forgot to buy coffee, cat food or lightbulbs so had to go back. Still achieved none of the above aims for the day. Am going to skip steps  2 and 3 due to lack of time. New list:

1. Have shower

2. Write 800 words of Phd

3. Write blog post (so far this is the only thing on the list that I have made a start on. And this has definitely not been the post I was planning to write).

 

15.15: Have successfully changed lightbulbs in all lamps. Haven’t managed to change ceiling lights due to possibility of injury/death etc. M can do this when he comes over later. This wasn’t on the original list, which is a shame as represents an achievement (have been carrying around old lightbulbs in handbag for a gabillion years).

 

16.15: Internet! You’ll be glad to know I have had a shower!  1 goal down, 2 to go.

 

16: 24: Went to make cup of tea. Couldn’t decide whether strange flashing I saw out of corner of eye was lightening or something wrong with one of new lightbulbs. Further investigation proved distracting but inconclusive.

 

16.30: M just text to say he’s got to work till 18.30 so I have an extra hour to write these 800 words. Have decided therefore to publish this blog post thereby achieving 2 goals from the updated list and getting rid of the temptation to blog rather than PhD.

 

16.37: Just counted number of words in this post – 611. That’s 189 words off my daily PhD writing goal. OUTPUT FAIL.

November 2, 2011

Bah ha ha ha.

Sometimes I like to amuse myself procrastinate by looking back at some of the search terms people used to find this blog. Some of them are funny, some are completely nonsensical and some of them are downright disturbing ( I am talking about YOU here, person who searched for ” the voices in my head are telling me to kill you “)

Anyway, I thought I’d share some of them with you because, clearly, I have nothing else I’m supposed to be doing (ahemm), and although I’m almost certain that you probably do have something better to do, you’re obviously procrastinating too because you’re here. So it’s a win-win situation for us both.

So without further ado, dear Internet, let me present to you….

The Fucked Up Search Terms Awards 2011

There are several awards I would like to make here. I have divided them in to categories. Because that also seemed like a good way to spend an afternoon. First up…

1. Nominees for most fucked up cat search…. (clearly it is the case that 99.9% of the Internet is about cats, or produced by cats. There are feckin hundreds of these but the shortlist is presented below)

how to tell if your cat is plotting to kill you

sneering cat

cat boxing

laughing cat

yoga cats

sneaky cats

cats in cups

marmite and cat

smug cat

clumsy cat

exhausted cat

no shit sherlock cat

cats in clothes

half naked cats

keyboard cat       (yay!!! If you’re not familiar with keyboard cat yet then go look – go on)

cats computer

cat exercise

devouring cat sex

my cat pants

strangling cat     (wtf? Srsly Internet, sort it out)

sex cats

fucky cats

And the winner is……Devouring Cat Sex!!!  This was a difficult decision but I found that the ambiguity appealed to me. Is the searcher looking for footage of cat sex which s/he can avidly devour? Or is s/he looking for cat sex in which the participants devour each other? No idea but it’s a winner.

Ok, next up….

2) Nominees for search terms that this blog Is Definitely NOT able to help you with:

de-cluttering chaos in your home     (ha ha ha, sorry anonymous searcher, can’t help you there)

adult adhd i am fucking lost somebody help

small flat tits    (move along, move along, nothing to see here *cough*)

thing to do inorder to forget scary things   (Who asks the Internet this? Really?)

chip van with two fit girls (wtf..this is very specific. A real shot in the dark that, surely?)

terminal procrastination   (Love this. Both the description itself and the irony inherent in the search itself)

my tea’s gone cold and i’m wondering why? (hahahahahhaha)

messy advice     (I can’t advise you on this. It just comes naturally. Unless you’re looking for a cure? lemme know when you find it)

reminders to bathe (erm…..)

And the winner is……… my tea’s gone cold and i’m wondering why?!!!! Well, it just had to be really, didn’t it?

…Finally, I want to make a Special Epic Search Term award to what has to be the longest search term ever, threatening to bring down the whole of the Internet under the weight of its effort to be SO VERY EXTREMELY THOROUGH:

” emotional flu blog ignoring your feelings pretending something hasn’t happened overeating excessive drinking of alcohol exercising compulsively any type of compulsive disorder always keeping busy so you don’t have the time to think about anything even closely related to ‘emotions’ keeping conversations superficial burying angry emotions or masking them blogspot ”

Yes, people, that is one search term. And although I can’t help this searcher, I would like to put my mirth aside for a second and say that actually, my heart breaks a little bit at the desperation enclosed within those speech marks. I am so sorry you feel that way. I hope you found some better advice than I can offer, somewhere in some dusty corner of google, and that things start to look up for you. If not, google “fucky cats” instead. Everyone else is. Apparently.

Boom!

October 26, 2011

I did it!! I got to work on time! Not just on time but actually almost two whole minutes early! Am feeling v proud of myself just now (as evidenced by all the exclamation marks) but am so exhausted by the effort this has taken that I am going to leave my post about going back on the ADHD meds till tomorrow.

Rose 1 – 0 Lateness

Procrastination 1 – 0 Rose

And there it is. You win some, you lose some.

Funny how one day can make so much difference to my mood. Yesterday, I sat here, at my nice warm desk with the mid-morning sun shining in through the window and I felt happy and positive.

Today I sit in exactly the same place, complete with sunshine and coffee, and I feel like crap. Here are some reasons for this rapid deterioration:

1) High Hopes – not worth it.

Yesterday I wrote that I was feeling very positive about the PhD, and looking forward to spending the day really getting into it and making some progress on this last chapter. I really thought so too, which just goes to prove (even at 28) how little I actually know myself, and just how much I have the ability to deceive myself. Of course, despite my high hopes, I proceeded to piss away the day like a drunk pissing her money down the pub toilet (oh wait, I did that too – spot the other reason I’m cross at myself). I can tell you exactly why this happened. A simple household job needed to be completed, and i didn’t know how long it would take so I wanted to do it before settling down to work. But this simple household job was very boring, and I wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it. So from 11.30am until 3pm I drank coffee, tweeted some people, and must have done some other things I suppose but I’m now really having difficulty accounting for what I actually did for three and a half hours.

Anyway, I finally got round to said household job about 3.15pm. It took 20 minutes. 20 fucking minutes that’s all! Except by the time I’d got round to it, it had actually taken twenty fucking minutes plus the three and a half hours I’d already wasted trying to motivate myself. By which time I had half an hour before I had to leave to go to a lecture. Outcome – no PhD words written. Fail.

But the lecture went on until 7pm so I still had several hours after that of which I could make good and productive use, right? Nope! By that time, I was so full of self-loathing and recriminations that I went to the pub instead. Just to make sure that I would really really fucking hate myself by the time I woke up this morning.

Fail fail fail fail fail

Actually, I’m not going to give any further reasons why I feel crap this morning because that one up there ^ is the biggie. I am just hoping that writing this out, typing violently with angry fingers of self-recrimination, will be enough to prevent me from doing the same thing again today. Frankly, it has to be. Because this work is due in on Monday night and I have a friend staying from tomorrow morning until Sunday evening and then I’m working all day on Monday. So I have today. That’s it. And as my alcoholism will, as sure as eggs is eggs, drive me into the pub by 5pm, the diagnosis of the situation is clear:

1) Stop fucking about.
2) Get a move on.

Upon which note, dear Internet, I will conclude my lecture of self-hatred, and hope that today I do not fall foul of the demon procrastination and end up, at 1.30 a.m. tonight, a sad empty shell of a woman, dressed in the tatters of my self-worth and vomiting the last alcohol soaked dregs of the day’s potential into the toilet bowl.

Internet….wish me luck!