It's a really twisted part of human nature to instantly want to do something that you're told you absolutely must not do. Sometimes it's not even a conscious choice.
I went for an MRI scan on my knees this morning, not really knowing what to expect apart from making sure not to wear metal before being pushed into the middle of a giant high-powered magnet. I also knew before they told me that I'd have to hold myself completely still for an extended amount of time.
No big deal- I can sit still for long periods of time engrossed in a book or watching a film. It's the same thing, right?
Wrong.
We're always shifting, twitching, moving every so slightly. No-one's really like a statue.
Each knee took 20 minutes to be scanned, and because I wasn't used to the terrible din of the machine and the weird feeling of pressure during some of the cycles, the muscles in my legs involuntarily tensed up. Try as I might, I just couldn't get into a zen mode. Halfway through one of my legs very suddenly twitched, and the radiographer switched intercom system on. I heard him sigh a little.
"Okay, we're going to have to do that one again, you moved a little."
"Okay, sorry!"
The poor radiographer had to buzz in a few more times to remind me to keep still. It was all very well telling my brain this, but my leg muscles had other plans.
I was also given a panic button to press if I went into shock in the machine (I can see how this would happen to some people- you're very enclosed and the noises and sensations are enough to freak anyone out). Of course I knew I mustn't press it for no reason, and I certainly didn't need to- but the entire time my hands got a twitching feeling, as if to tell me "Go on, the button's right there, you know you want to!"
Sunday, 28 September 2014
Sunday, 14 September 2014
Steampunk Shenanigans
This weekend I attended another costumed event with a few friends, this time at Lincoln's Weekend at the Asylum Steampunk Festival, the annual largest-gathering-of-steampunks-in-Europe.
The funny thing about it was it was my first time a) attending a steampunk gathering and b) dressing up in steampunk attire at all, so I thought my Steam Powered Giraffe-inspired clockwork robot would either be too weird or too lame. I got a shock when half of my day turned into posing for photographers from various backgrounds (only one or two were a little on the creepy side- one was quite a bit more than a little creepy but I made a swift disappearing act).
I was also pretty proud that I managed to put my face on in only 15 minutes as we arrived late thanks to a sudden taxi drought. During my test-runs, my makeup usually took no less than 45 minutes. However I did have to forgo some of the shading and depth effects and stick to simple. Next time... at least whenever I smiled I looked terrifying. Job well done?
Lincoln was beautiful, made even more dream-like and surreal the amount of people dressed in period-fantasy fusion. I also love the fact that Lincoln has a street on a really long and steep hill called Steep Hill. It definitely earned its name.
Can you imagine cycling up that? Or even down it, now that would be terrifying.
Until next time, Lincoln.
The funny thing about it was it was my first time a) attending a steampunk gathering and b) dressing up in steampunk attire at all, so I thought my Steam Powered Giraffe-inspired clockwork robot would either be too weird or too lame. I got a shock when half of my day turned into posing for photographers from various backgrounds (only one or two were a little on the creepy side- one was quite a bit more than a little creepy but I made a swift disappearing act).
I was also pretty proud that I managed to put my face on in only 15 minutes as we arrived late thanks to a sudden taxi drought. During my test-runs, my makeup usually took no less than 45 minutes. However I did have to forgo some of the shading and depth effects and stick to simple. Next time... at least whenever I smiled I looked terrifying. Job well done?
Lincoln was beautiful, made even more dream-like and surreal the amount of people dressed in period-fantasy fusion. I also love the fact that Lincoln has a street on a really long and steep hill called Steep Hill. It definitely earned its name.
Can you imagine cycling up that? Or even down it, now that would be terrifying.
Until next time, Lincoln.
Monday, 1 September 2014
Dodging Death
I was just about to switch everything off thie evening when Mum came downstairs, exclaiming how something had blown the bathroom light out upstairs. I shrugged it off- it happens. What did make me get up to investigate was ten minutes later, after Mum had gone back upstairs, when she called down saying that she could smell burning.
I went upstairs, and sure enough there was a faint smell of something burning. But not a smokey smell (which would have been bad enough)- this smelled like burning plastic.
We hunted around to the source of the smell, until I noticed that it was actually coming from Mum's room itself. Mum discovered that it was, in fact, her TV pouring out evil, invisible and silent fumes- all the while still working otherwise as normal.
We quickly switched it off, although in the short space of time we discovered the source of the smell, the fumes had gotten so bad that I had to cover my nose and mouth with a towel to get close enough to fully unplug it. We threw the windows in the room open and closed the door.
Here's the kicker- normally Mum goes to bed much earlier than this, and sometimes falls asleep in front of the TV while it's still on (despite me lecturing her about doing this on many an occasion). Mum could have been gassed to death in her sleep without a sound. I would have been downstairs, completely unaware until I went upstairs, or possibly in my adjacent room, also being silently poisoned. Or, the TV would set alight. Either way, if Mum hadn't been up later than usual (ironically watching TV instead of falling asleep to it), Dad may have come home from his night shift to bodies, burning or both.
Sobering thought.
I've moved Mum downstairs to sleep on the sofa for the night while the fumes dissipate from her room. In the meantime I've been periodically checking the TV to make sure it stops fuming, which thankfully, it has now.
This is right up there with the time the ceiling collapsed in a patch right next to my bed with me in it, in terms of brushes with the grim reaper.
I went upstairs, and sure enough there was a faint smell of something burning. But not a smokey smell (which would have been bad enough)- this smelled like burning plastic.
We hunted around to the source of the smell, until I noticed that it was actually coming from Mum's room itself. Mum discovered that it was, in fact, her TV pouring out evil, invisible and silent fumes- all the while still working otherwise as normal.
We quickly switched it off, although in the short space of time we discovered the source of the smell, the fumes had gotten so bad that I had to cover my nose and mouth with a towel to get close enough to fully unplug it. We threw the windows in the room open and closed the door.
Here's the kicker- normally Mum goes to bed much earlier than this, and sometimes falls asleep in front of the TV while it's still on (despite me lecturing her about doing this on many an occasion). Mum could have been gassed to death in her sleep without a sound. I would have been downstairs, completely unaware until I went upstairs, or possibly in my adjacent room, also being silently poisoned. Or, the TV would set alight. Either way, if Mum hadn't been up later than usual (ironically watching TV instead of falling asleep to it), Dad may have come home from his night shift to bodies, burning or both.
Sobering thought.
I've moved Mum downstairs to sleep on the sofa for the night while the fumes dissipate from her room. In the meantime I've been periodically checking the TV to make sure it stops fuming, which thankfully, it has now.
This is right up there with the time the ceiling collapsed in a patch right next to my bed with me in it, in terms of brushes with the grim reaper.
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