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.
Friday, 22 August 2014
Hey, I Just Met You, and I Am Crazy (Part 2)
I really wonder what on Earth is wrong with me, sometimes.
On Wednesday we were split into small groups during dance class to learn the next part of the choreography. I was hyper from dancing, as usual, and was chatting to another class member with whom I've never spoken with before. At the the end of the class...
"Well it was nice chatting to you!" they said, smiling.
"Whee!!" I skipped off at high speed.
... Told you I fail at meeting new people.
On Wednesday we were split into small groups during dance class to learn the next part of the choreography. I was hyper from dancing, as usual, and was chatting to another class member with whom I've never spoken with before. At the the end of the class...
"Well it was nice chatting to you!" they said, smiling.
"Whee!!" I skipped off at high speed.
... Told you I fail at meeting new people.
Wednesday, 20 August 2014
Pagliacci
Last week, it was the peak night for the Perseid meteor shower. I had just come in from three quarters of hour of stargazing, neck sore from craning up for so long. So far, I had seen nothing in the small patch of light-polluted London sky of my back garden. It was about 2:30am.
I sat down at my computer to take a short break. I saw the red banner of a breaking news story on my screen that had only been posted about ten minutes ago- Robin Williams had been found dead.
This post has been sitting in my drafts for a week now. I wanted to say something constructive and intelligent, and to express the strange and unexpected pain of losing someone I've never even met. I grew up with his on-screen shenanigans, marvelled at his talent and had heard stories of his kind nature, but I didn't know him; and yet I felt a little heartbroken. I couldn't find a way to express all of this. Thankfully, the internet, or indeed the whole world it seems, managed to convey these sentiments perfectly.
I was going to just delete this nod to Mr. Williams because I felt like I had nothing worth posting compared to everyone else, and certainly nothing as beautiful or thought-provoking as the heartfelt tributes that have gone out. However, I started to think about my own very personal dealings with the invisible but very tangible dead weight that is depression: both for myself and close friends. Then I began to think that if I can get through to just one person out there that happens to be reading this post- literally just one person in the whole world- and be able to help them just a little, then that's worth more than enough for me to post this.
There are days where you might feel like you could never be happy again. Or, just as bad, you feel like you could never feel anything ever again. There might be days where instantly when you wake up, you feel an invisible weight crushing down on you, and you wish nothing more than to just stay in bed and never get up again. There might be days where no matter what the hell you do you feel repulsive, unsuccessful and generally worthless to anyone or anything- and that either you, your loved ones, or both, would be better off if you just removed yourself from the world.
This is not the truth.
The sneakiest, most vicious part of depression is the way it convinces you that it's purely logical to feel this way. It's not. You have more worth than you can ever know, and are treasured more than you can ever realise. You don't deserve to be feeling like this at all, no matter what you tell yourself, and you have just as much right to be down as anyone else. Ignore people who tell you nonsense such as 'just snap out of it' or 'smile more' or 'be grateful for the life you have'. Depression is certainly not your fault, and these people are bloody idiots.
Most importantly of all, LET YOURSELF BE HELPED. You might feel like you don't want to burden others, but what good are the people on this earth if they can't support one another? Turn to the people closest to you, and sod the ones that run away- no-one needs people like that in their lives anyway, depression or no. Keep talking, and go to the doctor's to work out the best possible treatment for you. You know what? People with colds are lucky- they get streaming eyes, red noses, and sneeze and snort a lot, and they get all of the Lemsip and sympathy in the world. Depression is invisible, and more dangerously if you let it be- silent. So yes, there are people out there that will be of the "well I can't see it so it must not exist" ilk (again, these people are bloody idiots). Thankfully your doctor knows better than that. Go see them, and talk to them too.
I've been there. I nearly got lost. I'm back, and I'm stronger than ever. Sometimes it might feel like you could fall back into the pit. But once you realise the truth- that you deserve better- there will always be a safety net over the pit, and you'll never fall in again.
This is what I considered as I read the news that night, as well as how someone who has done so much good in the world can't feel of it for themselves. As for the Perseid meteor shower, I went straight back outside. I saw three little shooting stars and a great big one streak across the sky within ten minutes, this time.
I sat down at my computer to take a short break. I saw the red banner of a breaking news story on my screen that had only been posted about ten minutes ago- Robin Williams had been found dead.
This post has been sitting in my drafts for a week now. I wanted to say something constructive and intelligent, and to express the strange and unexpected pain of losing someone I've never even met. I grew up with his on-screen shenanigans, marvelled at his talent and had heard stories of his kind nature, but I didn't know him; and yet I felt a little heartbroken. I couldn't find a way to express all of this. Thankfully, the internet, or indeed the whole world it seems, managed to convey these sentiments perfectly.
I was going to just delete this nod to Mr. Williams because I felt like I had nothing worth posting compared to everyone else, and certainly nothing as beautiful or thought-provoking as the heartfelt tributes that have gone out. However, I started to think about my own very personal dealings with the invisible but very tangible dead weight that is depression: both for myself and close friends. Then I began to think that if I can get through to just one person out there that happens to be reading this post- literally just one person in the whole world- and be able to help them just a little, then that's worth more than enough for me to post this.
There are days where you might feel like you could never be happy again. Or, just as bad, you feel like you could never feel anything ever again. There might be days where instantly when you wake up, you feel an invisible weight crushing down on you, and you wish nothing more than to just stay in bed and never get up again. There might be days where no matter what the hell you do you feel repulsive, unsuccessful and generally worthless to anyone or anything- and that either you, your loved ones, or both, would be better off if you just removed yourself from the world.
This is not the truth.
The sneakiest, most vicious part of depression is the way it convinces you that it's purely logical to feel this way. It's not. You have more worth than you can ever know, and are treasured more than you can ever realise. You don't deserve to be feeling like this at all, no matter what you tell yourself, and you have just as much right to be down as anyone else. Ignore people who tell you nonsense such as 'just snap out of it' or 'smile more' or 'be grateful for the life you have'. Depression is certainly not your fault, and these people are bloody idiots.
Most importantly of all, LET YOURSELF BE HELPED. You might feel like you don't want to burden others, but what good are the people on this earth if they can't support one another? Turn to the people closest to you, and sod the ones that run away- no-one needs people like that in their lives anyway, depression or no. Keep talking, and go to the doctor's to work out the best possible treatment for you. You know what? People with colds are lucky- they get streaming eyes, red noses, and sneeze and snort a lot, and they get all of the Lemsip and sympathy in the world. Depression is invisible, and more dangerously if you let it be- silent. So yes, there are people out there that will be of the "well I can't see it so it must not exist" ilk (again, these people are bloody idiots). Thankfully your doctor knows better than that. Go see them, and talk to them too.
I've been there. I nearly got lost. I'm back, and I'm stronger than ever. Sometimes it might feel like you could fall back into the pit. But once you realise the truth- that you deserve better- there will always be a safety net over the pit, and you'll never fall in again.
This is what I considered as I read the news that night, as well as how someone who has done so much good in the world can't feel of it for themselves. As for the Perseid meteor shower, I went straight back outside. I saw three little shooting stars and a great big one streak across the sky within ten minutes, this time.
Sunday, 10 August 2014
Hey, I Just Met You, and I Am Crazy
"Sometimes, when I have a little left, I like to spray my hands and pretend I'm a robot." - Me talking about decorating cake with edible metallic spray about ten minutes into encountering a new human being.
I'm really bad at meeting new people.
No no, let me rephrase this: I'm really good at pretending like I know what I'm doing when I'm meeting new people at first, but I'm terrible at maintaining any sense of normality throughout the social situation. For instance, I'll start off seeming like a nice, normal person, and then only a few minutes in of talking to someone, sporadic flashes of crazy suddenly burst through the faรงade, like some sort of nervous reflex.
I visited a friend's house to play my first ever game of Dungeons and Dragons a few evenings ago- my character was a new addition to the campaign, and the group had already had two sessions of play. I already knew my friend of course, and I had already met her husband. It was the rest of the group I had to try to convince that I was 'cool'.
I had been talking like a nice, normal person to my friend's brother-in-law when the subject of what I'd used to make the cakes I brought silver came up (I'd sprayed them silver and gold like loot). Like a nice, normal person I explained how I'd done it. My friend's brother in law joked that he might end up looking like the tin man if he got any silver on him. And then, not at all like a nice, normal person, I cracked that remark about pretending like I'm a robot out.
At another point, we started discussing about how strictly we have to stick to our character's alliances and personality, and then ended up with a philosophical statement about how the inevitability of how our characters can and can't act could be a metaphor for life. And hastily and awkwardly added "Or not..."
During the actual game, I was absent-mindedly stacking the die up in a colourful tower. Another member of the group and pointed this out, amused. I felt a silly crooked grin appear on my face. "I like stacking things, stacking things is fun."
*Facepalm*
There were plenty of other moments like these throughout the evening, made worse by the fact that I was also trying to learn the rules of the game on the fly, stay in character and remember everyone's real and in-game names at the same time; and as the game commenced, I felt myself getting quieter and quieter. The group was fantastic- everyone was very welcoming and had the same cheeky, slightly avante-garde sense of humour as I did- but I was terrified of accidentally taking the joke too far, or stepping over the mark as the newbie. I started out being super friendly and slightly hyperactive, but by the end of the evening I must have seem very subdued, and perhaps even a little aloof in my awkwardness.
I used to be so painfully shy I wouldn't be able to talk to new people at all. Now I'm much better at pretending that I'm confident and at toning down my eccentricity to begin with, but this sort of suppression results in my eccentricity forcing its way out like water spewing from a cracking dam. Honestly, I'm not sure which one is worse.
Thankfully, the people that have stuck by me after these awkward first moments are both awesome and just as nuts to boot, so I needn't worry too much. After all, life is all about finding people with the same type of crazy as you, and those people become your friends.
I'm really bad at meeting new people.
No no, let me rephrase this: I'm really good at pretending like I know what I'm doing when I'm meeting new people at first, but I'm terrible at maintaining any sense of normality throughout the social situation. For instance, I'll start off seeming like a nice, normal person, and then only a few minutes in of talking to someone, sporadic flashes of crazy suddenly burst through the faรงade, like some sort of nervous reflex.
I visited a friend's house to play my first ever game of Dungeons and Dragons a few evenings ago- my character was a new addition to the campaign, and the group had already had two sessions of play. I already knew my friend of course, and I had already met her husband. It was the rest of the group I had to try to convince that I was 'cool'.
I had been talking like a nice, normal person to my friend's brother-in-law when the subject of what I'd used to make the cakes I brought silver came up (I'd sprayed them silver and gold like loot). Like a nice, normal person I explained how I'd done it. My friend's brother in law joked that he might end up looking like the tin man if he got any silver on him. And then, not at all like a nice, normal person, I cracked that remark about pretending like I'm a robot out.
At another point, we started discussing about how strictly we have to stick to our character's alliances and personality, and then ended up with a philosophical statement about how the inevitability of how our characters can and can't act could be a metaphor for life. And hastily and awkwardly added "Or not..."
During the actual game, I was absent-mindedly stacking the die up in a colourful tower. Another member of the group and pointed this out, amused. I felt a silly crooked grin appear on my face. "I like stacking things, stacking things is fun."
*Facepalm*
There were plenty of other moments like these throughout the evening, made worse by the fact that I was also trying to learn the rules of the game on the fly, stay in character and remember everyone's real and in-game names at the same time; and as the game commenced, I felt myself getting quieter and quieter. The group was fantastic- everyone was very welcoming and had the same cheeky, slightly avante-garde sense of humour as I did- but I was terrified of accidentally taking the joke too far, or stepping over the mark as the newbie. I started out being super friendly and slightly hyperactive, but by the end of the evening I must have seem very subdued, and perhaps even a little aloof in my awkwardness.
I used to be so painfully shy I wouldn't be able to talk to new people at all. Now I'm much better at pretending that I'm confident and at toning down my eccentricity to begin with, but this sort of suppression results in my eccentricity forcing its way out like water spewing from a cracking dam. Honestly, I'm not sure which one is worse.
Thankfully, the people that have stuck by me after these awkward first moments are both awesome and just as nuts to boot, so I needn't worry too much. After all, life is all about finding people with the same type of crazy as you, and those people become your friends.
Saturday, 2 August 2014
Annihilated Knees
"Okay. What about if I move your knee like this?" My doctor twisted my leg this way and that way.
Cra-a-a-a-ck-k-k! My knee made a sound like a small bundle of twigs being snapped in two. The doctor looked visibly horrified.
"Yep, that one hurt," I confirmed as I lay on the examination table.
I'd been doing relatively well, fitness-wise, up until this week: running, gym-ing, dance classes, and a morning exercise routine involving press ups, tricep dips, crunches and squats. Unfortunately I decided to take on the 30 day squat challenge: a challenge in which you do a certain amount of squats almost every day, building up the number of squats each time. Squats are really bad news for knees, but I mistakenly believed that since I'm in relatively good shape, it would be okay.
What I'd forgotten about is that time during a judo session years and years ago when my sparring partner botched a throw and resulted in my left knee being twisted and crushed.
It's easy to forget about a weakness or illness when you're feeling fine, and my knee hadn't given me much trouble in a few years, even through all the exercise I've been doing. However a couple of weeks ago, two thirds of the way through the 30 day squat challenge, my knees- both of them- started to creak. And a couple of days ago, the left kneecap decided it wanted a change of scenery, which resulted in my knee locking every time I bent it for any reason (especially sitting down), and then having to endure a horrible crunching,, grinding sensation to straighten my leg.
Suspecting chondromalacia (the wearing away of the cartilage under the kneecap) and perhaps a torn ligament or two by the nasty way my kneecap was moving, I took myself to the doctor's yesterday morning, who promptly told me to put my left knee in a support for all waking hours, and sent me straight to hospital to get X-rays done on both knees.
I won't get the results back for another week or so- in the meantime my knee's bound up so I feel like I'm walking like a robot (which I'm trying but failing not to find kind of cool), and I'm taking supplement tablets designed for healthy joints, just in case it helps. Whatever's going on with my knees I know it's not good, and I certainly won't be able to do certain types of exercise for at very least a few months. If I'm unlucky, years- if I'm very unlucky, ever again. I can still do low impact exercise with my brace, and be careful when dancing- but no more squats, no more bounding up and down the stairs like a goat, and- alas- no more distance running for a while.
I'm a really active person, so it kills me not to be able to tear around like I'm use to doing. However, if I don't slow down, I risk never recovering and a lifetime of crippling pain, and I'll completely incapacitate my future self (aka Old Lady Tash). So, Old Lady Tash, I'm doing this for you.
Cra-a-a-a-ck-k-k! My knee made a sound like a small bundle of twigs being snapped in two. The doctor looked visibly horrified.
"Yep, that one hurt," I confirmed as I lay on the examination table.
I'd been doing relatively well, fitness-wise, up until this week: running, gym-ing, dance classes, and a morning exercise routine involving press ups, tricep dips, crunches and squats. Unfortunately I decided to take on the 30 day squat challenge: a challenge in which you do a certain amount of squats almost every day, building up the number of squats each time. Squats are really bad news for knees, but I mistakenly believed that since I'm in relatively good shape, it would be okay.
What I'd forgotten about is that time during a judo session years and years ago when my sparring partner botched a throw and resulted in my left knee being twisted and crushed.
It's easy to forget about a weakness or illness when you're feeling fine, and my knee hadn't given me much trouble in a few years, even through all the exercise I've been doing. However a couple of weeks ago, two thirds of the way through the 30 day squat challenge, my knees- both of them- started to creak. And a couple of days ago, the left kneecap decided it wanted a change of scenery, which resulted in my knee locking every time I bent it for any reason (especially sitting down), and then having to endure a horrible crunching,, grinding sensation to straighten my leg.
Suspecting chondromalacia (the wearing away of the cartilage under the kneecap) and perhaps a torn ligament or two by the nasty way my kneecap was moving, I took myself to the doctor's yesterday morning, who promptly told me to put my left knee in a support for all waking hours, and sent me straight to hospital to get X-rays done on both knees.
I won't get the results back for another week or so- in the meantime my knee's bound up so I feel like I'm walking like a robot (which I'm trying but failing not to find kind of cool), and I'm taking supplement tablets designed for healthy joints, just in case it helps. Whatever's going on with my knees I know it's not good, and I certainly won't be able to do certain types of exercise for at very least a few months. If I'm unlucky, years- if I'm very unlucky, ever again. I can still do low impact exercise with my brace, and be careful when dancing- but no more squats, no more bounding up and down the stairs like a goat, and- alas- no more distance running for a while.
I'm a really active person, so it kills me not to be able to tear around like I'm use to doing. However, if I don't slow down, I risk never recovering and a lifetime of crippling pain, and I'll completely incapacitate my future self (aka Old Lady Tash). So, Old Lady Tash, I'm doing this for you.
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