I Blame You, You Blame Me

I want to go back to bed. I must be ill. There’s definitely cold sweat, definitely. Is it a fever? I just want to go back to bed. Slowly creep underneath the covers, noone has to notice, and just lie there in the warm and safe envelope that is my bed. I have a special bond with my bed. Even though the bed changes, sometimes night after night, it always seems to be the same bed. My bed is where I’m home, no matter where I actually am. Sometimes it fails me, my bed. It fails to protect me from that person in the hostel room whose snores are drilling into my skull. It fails to muffle the sounds of my friend and her boyfriend making out next to me.

Somehow, my bed has also become my enemy. It is like I’ve betrayed it. I have to resist its constant almost magnetic pull and I hate it for the strength this requires. Strength I need for other things. I also curse it for being so possessive. Why can’t it just be happy with having me in its arms during the dark of the night? I’d like to spend the day without it, I need some space. There’s nothing to it. The chairs I sit on, the streets I walk, the things I lean on, they’ve got nothing on you, dear. We’re just friends. Yet, its jealousy ruins my relationship with the chairs, the streets, the things. And I, annoyed and exhausted and resentful, deny you my company when it gets dark. At two or three in the morning we make up reluctantly, because we rely on each other, we need each other. And when the sun rises, the whole ordeal begins anew.

Why, why can’t we escape this truly vicious cycle? We are slowly ruining each other, day after day, as the anger and the contempt grow ever and evermore. Of course, I blame you, and you blame me, and there is a nice symmetry to this. But we can’t go on. Maybe we need a break. But we can’t break, can we? You follow me wherever I go, wherever I sleep. You are home. And I’m still happy when I’m with you. Our nightly reunions are such a relief and pleasure that sometimes I think, maybe it’s worth it, maybe all the drama is worth it, just for that moment of unity.

But it’s not, is it. My unhealthy relationship with my bed poisons my waking hours. It makes me hate myself and sleep through what could have been my life. It is my own version of meth. It fills me with regret and resentment and brings me sadness and frustration. I will never get away from it, it will be there, no matter where I sleep, on heavenly futons, dirty sheets and disappointing roll mats. But maybe we should just be friends.

B x

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An Apple A Day Keeps The Doctor Away – If Only!

So, strictly I have already broken my resolution to blog daily, but hey, my day hasn’t ended yet, I’m still awake! Although I could easily go on about myself and my little failures for hours and hours on end, today, we have a specific topic. And, no, I haven’t even looked at today’s Blogging101 assignment, but the again, if I had, there wouldn’t be anything to catch up on during the weekend…

May I introduce today’s topic (*drum roll*): doctors! Not the PhD kind of doctors like in the Big Bang Theory but the ones in the white coats: GPs, dentists, orthopedics, orthodontists, surgeons, radiologists, gynecologists, urologists (while we’re at it),… All of those. The idea came to me (surprise!) while I was in the doctor’s waiting room this morning. I have a lot to say about doctors. Well, less about doctors, but about going to the doctor’s, which I intensely dislike.

Let me start at the beginning. If you want or need to go to see a doctor, you have to make an appointment. Not so many years ago, I used to be terrified of speaking on the phone. Answering the phone was bad, but calling someone or somewhere was way worse. While my social skills have improved drastically since then, calling to make a doctor’s appointment is still one of those few occasions that I am not entirely comfortable with. Firstly, they often let you hold the line for ages and then when you finally get through to them, you speak to some brash assistant nurse. Then you have to coordinate schedules, which is always a bit stressful (I just made a doctor’s appointment three hours before an important exam…, huge mistake! I’ll have to cancel that one and get a new one, another phone call!). And they might suddenly ask you loads of things which you are meant to have on hand, like the name of your insurance and I always get terrified of getting something as easy as my own birthday wrong when put on the spot like that.

Assuming you have your appointment now, the trouble isn’t over, it has just begun. If you want to see a specialist, for example, be prepared to wait three months for that 10-minute appointment. But let’s not dwell on this minor detail, after all, there is a ton of social awkwardness awaiting you when you arrive for that appointment that we haven’t even mentioned yet. You enter the practice and there it is: level one, the counter that you’re meant to register at. Usually, the assistant nurse secretary person is either talking to another patient or talking on the phone or altogether absent. If you’re particularly blessed there will also be a little ‘wait here’ line like at the post office or the airport. If there’s no one there, what do you do? Do you stay awkwardly behind the line? Or do you intrude? If there is someone there and that someone is talking on the phone or to another patient, even if you stay behind the line it will be impossible for you to not listen to their conversation. You know that and they know that and it makes us all so very very uncomfortable.

Of course, making it to the waiting room (level 2) now seems like a major relief and magazines often save you from awkward stares. The absolute silence that is so often characteristic of these situations makes taking your coat off or grabbing a magazine a huge event though and you will be guaranteed some disapproving looks. And is it just me, or is anyone also afraid that they might not hear their name properly when the assistant nurse person calls your name? Longest I have waited at a doctor’s was four hours! But then, in comparison, longest I have waited in a hospital was seven hours, so not too bad then.

Say you do hear your name properly then you make it to level 3, where you are assigned to a consultation room (sometimes there is also an intermediate level where they make you sit in another waiting area before pointing to a consultation room). Here, the wait continues. And you can’t even use the time and concentrate on your reading because chances are a doctor and/or a nurse will pop in and look for something, take something from the room or type something into a computer (again you can’t help to read what they’re writing!). Ideally, when you reach level 4 you have made it: You are talking to a doctor and he/she will help you.

Of course now you might have difficulties describing your concerns, or you might wish you had worn more conservative underwear or whatever, but the long wait and the difficulties that you have mastered on your way here have made you brave and strong and you can deal with these problems now. Congratulations! You’ve made it. Get well soon.

Unlucky of course if you have not made it quite yet and the doctor wants to take a sample, a swab, get an x-ray, a CAT scan or an MRI or whatever else might spring to mind. Then you can prepare to do the whole ordeal again, maybe repeatedly even. Good luck!

Another side effect of these long processes is naturally that whatever the doctor tells you when you made it to level 4 feels like a victory at first, you’re just happy to be able to talk to a goddamn doctor, no matter how serious and shattering the diagnosis might be.

Hallelujah to that!

B x

(Soz to be such a downer today…)

Crisp Eyebrows Are The Best Kind Of Eyebrows

As you might remember, one of my resolutions as part of my happiness project was to get down with all that make-up business, that, until now, has largely remained a misery for me.

So, though I can still not say that I have mastered the art form and make-up tutorials bore me to death, I think I might have made some initial progress, and I’d like to share that with you. So, the beginning to solving a problem is often admitting that you have it and then working with that. Now, the whole make-up thing is not really a pressing problem, but it is one of life’s annoyances. Acceptance done. I also know that I will never enthusiastically spend hours in front of the mirror painting shadows on my face. So, that is already heaps to work with: My make-up should be quick and uncomplicated and preferably not require a lot of skills. Still, if I do make the effort I’d like to know that it is worth it.

As a consequence, I spent my last few days keeping an eye out for make-up and tools that seems like it is made for people like me, people who don’t necessarily know the ways of the trade but want a piece of the cake (aka the benefits). This is what I came up with:

Eyebrow Gel – My friend, who is one of those make-up people, is manic about her eyebrows. And it pays off, they are bloody impressive and make a huge impact on how the whole face looks. However, she uses a multitude of powders and pens and brushes and combs and things that I could never handle. I already know that I’m hopeless with an eyebrow pen (I’ve tried, believe me). So, the other day, I stumbled upon this thing in a magazine – eyebrow gel. It was part of a feature about how to look like a model (whatever that my mean) in five minutes and they mentioned this gel by some kooky very expensive brand. But, when I went to my local drugstore, they did have a cheap version of it. Luckily, it was “one colour suits all”, meaning I couldn’t even make any wrong choices in terms of eyebrow tone.  And, I’m telling you, this stuff is magic. You just kind of put it on your eyebrows (it has a little mascara-like brush thingy), nothing much you can do wrong, and it shapes and colours you eyebrows. YAY! Such success. The only thing that is a bit odd is that the gel dries up and leaves your eyebrows a bit crisp, which, let me tell you is a very very strange sensation.

Lip Stain – Now, same article, same feature, also mentioned lip stain. Now I was instantly intrigued: I never managed to handle lipstick (it just looks odd) and lip gloss is so sticky and annoying. Enter: Lip Stain, which is like a felt-tip pen for your lips, which means it also eliminates any problems that might occur due to the handling of lip liner. Again, I found a cheap version at the drugstore and I now use it all the time. Usually I apply the stain in the morning and then I moisturize my lips throughout the day (they’re extremely chapped and I cultivate a habit of practically chewing on my lower lip…) and it’s all just mighty fine.

Please, I would love to know: What is your make-up secret, your favourite tool, your most-used item?

B x

Good lecturers, bad lecturers…

So, yes, it’s been a while. The internet has been mostly working for the past month, and it seems I am way more compelled to contribute to this blog when forcibly offline.

Anyways, it’s time for an update. Looking back, it seems funny how excited I was for courses to start. I signed up for the whole lot of lectures and seminars and vowed to go to all tutorials as well. For the first two weeks I did it. Attended every event on my self-enforced timetable.

Things are a bit different today. I dropped out of all of my lectures and most of my seminars. And, believe it or not, this is a good thing. Why would I attend a boring lecture if I don’t want to? Clearly, my chances of learning something are inversely proportional to how much I dread getting up in the morning. But there are some seminars left over. Also a very good thing.

My beginners’ Danish course, for example, is a delight. Yes, there are the irregular words, there’s the pronunciation that continues to puzzle me. But it is heaps of fun and very rewarding. As always, this is largely due to my Danish teacher, who is amazing. It is refreshing how personally engaged she is and how proud our progress makes her. And I myself love that after only two months of learning the language I was able to watch a film entirely in Danish (also organised by that lovely teacher, outside of our lessons, in her own free time) and I managed to follow the plot!

The other seminars I still go to include academic writing, an introduction into Spanish Literature (although these are both quite dull, but academic writing might actually prove useful someday and if I dropped out of Spanish Lit, I would have dropped out of Spanish entirely…), an introduction to Scandinavian Medieval Studies and a presentation skills workshop.

That last one is the other delight of my week. It is the only seminar I have in English and it’s very much an interactive course. We are only five participants, which makes it really cozy and personal and the teacher is a lovely lady that provides biscuits and tea and coffee. Yet again, she is probably the cause that I find this workshop as enjoyable as I do. With a background in acting and teaching English she’s just lovely and cares for each and every one of us.

Well, that’s enough from me for now, I have some festive spirit to generate (I find writing cards, buying presents, mulled wine and Frank Sinatra very helpful in getting me in the right Christmas mood) and a risotto to cook (yes, that phase isn’t over yet).

B x