Fear and Loathing in Lislea

I'm so fucking bored! I think I have become an emotionless android, going through the predetermined steps of a program code. Recently my life has been existing primarily on my laptop, making my social life a digital one. Actually, this can be a good thing for a little while when you really need to get some work done. It's just that one day you wake up to the fact that it's all just so utterly tedious. Fear clasps hold of your hand for a second and you realise that time spent in boredom is time wasted.

"Himmelhoch jauchzend, zu Tode betrübt" 

It's a famous quote from Goethe, by way of Anne Frank in my case. It translates basically as "On top of the world, or in the depths of despair." The significance of the quote, for me, is derived from its bang-on description of how I used to live, back in the old days. Back in the old days when my emotions oscillated between self-destruction and euphoria on a daily-basis. When I didn't ever want to get out of bed, except on days when I was fuelled-up with hyper-activity. When I was a twisted wretch, pining over any woman I'd meet.

I am so fucking bored! Bored with an exhaustingly monotonous college course and a job which revolves around the toleration of stupidity. Sometimes I feel like the job is crushing any spark of intelligence I may have once had and that the college thing is simply a means to an end, i.e it gets me paid. On the flip-side I get money every month to sustain my inactive lifestyle and I know I will have a first in electronic engineering if I put in just a little work for the next two months. These are good things but it just doesn't seem like enough to make the road worth the walk.

Life before venlafaxine was a little more noteworthy, a little more exciting. At least that is the sense I retain in my memory. In spite of the time spent in the aforementioned depths of despair, I had some fun times during my depressed youth. But now it feels as if in settling into the role of a relatively focused student I've lost a bit of something. Like now I am just the watered-down version of myself. Maybe I have become even more introverted and androgynous than before. Maybe I'm dead inside like a big rotten old oak tree. Maybe I exaggerate a touch.

Perhaps I am doing myself an injustice. There is after all a lot to be said for the quiet life. I am more tangibly productive than I have ever been and I've gone from absolutely despising electronics to making plans for doing an add-on year after I finish. I am fairly stable at present, a positive in light of previous catastrophic meltdowns. I've even managed to save money while going to college! This I could classify as a miracle. Still, it's all so very dull.

I shouldn't complain too much though, life is pretty good on the whole. Perhaps as good as it has ever been by some measurements. And even though I think I am suffering from an atrophied sense of humour there are some people who can make me laugh more than ever. There are enough good things to do too, if I can find the time away from the boring shit that I just have to get done.

As the pleasures of this life are transitory we should all attempt to enjoy them while we can. With this in mind I shall make a list/mission statement:

There are so many good books to read and so many beautiful women to fuck. There are so many great roads for me to cycle, so many songs to hear. I have so many places to see and awesome people to talk with. There are so many languages I could learn and so many bad ideas I can criticise.

It is a shame that I should ever say I am bored.

Badly expressed thoughts

I haven't written anything down in a while so let us see if I can't string a few lucid sentences together. Stephen Fry said once that a thought badly expressed is a lie so going by that standard I would not take any of this too seriously.

How can I express an uncertain emotion or vague yearning? With words for sure but I'm out of practise. I seem to have forgotten how to make the dance. I feel like there are a lot of things I am unable to make dance these days.

Lately I have been stirred by restlessness and unsettled by the trajectory of life. Waking up from dreams truly disappointed to find that the brief moment of perfect excitement never really existed in the first place. Waking up from dreams to drag my feet through the muddy water of the set routine. It's not all bad, it just isn't living the dream.

This life I lead now, the transitory phase between old and new, was meant to be an exciting time in itself. That was my expectation anyway. By now I was expecting a thousand fold increase in intelligence and roadmap all laid out. Things rarely work out how you expect, especially when expectations are so often unrealistic.

Tell me Mr Cooney, what exactly were you expecting?

I expect to be high all the time.

Feeling like I'm the passenger of a train with the sensation that the station is moving rather than the train.I haven't even begun to make my mark on the world yet and I am floundering. This life I lead, Work-drink-study-work-t.v.-dream-run-standstill, seems good to many people, perfect to a few more. It just seems a little unambitious to me. I am not judging though.How could I when I comply like all the rest.

I understand that there is comfort in the monotony. From an evolutionary or even anthropological point of view I would imagine it all began as a way of prolonging survival. Every animal wants to survive and the most effective way to do this must be to make it a matter of routine. For many people this is the only way to live. Everyday predictable and boring but safe. Flip it over and it's soul-destroying, imagination restricting and a graveyard.

Here we stand together, a few of is in the wrong time and place. Frustrated and jealous and grasping for something that just isn't there. Pining for something different without understanding what it is. Sometimes wondering if it isn't a what but a who. Whatever it is I need to satiate my yearning heart it isn't in anything I see everyday.

So once again I sit here staring at a computer screen unsure of my conclusion or what even lit the fuse for me to start writing at all. Perhaps it's just a part of my personality. An hereditary gift that leaves me in an almost constant state of longing. But then I think believing that would be nothing but a cop out.

My genes are sealed but I still have time before my fate is.

Just the weekend

I've got nothing. Seriously cannot think of one interesting thing to write about from my weekend. Maybe that is just because I didn't drink. More likely not. Sitting in front of a computer screen with still fingers when all I have to do is stick down a few events and lessons learned. It's daft, but right now my memory doesn't appear to be working correctly. My brain is fried. Tonight is a night for tv and nothing else. I'm not fit to read never mind write.

Fuck it. Three things from the weekend to talk about. anything. Yeah I got it. Pick three things, say something about each, make it seem emotional and interesteing. Tidy it up, check the spelling(apparently i'm good at that), hit post and there you have a blog that looks like at least some substantial effort was put in. But remember Cooncash, don't let anyone know how lazy you've been this time

Friday
Appointment with my therapist or whatever it is they're called. I honestly don't know. This wasn't fun. Being told that if I continue to live as I have up until this point that theres the very real possibility that I may cross the line you can't come back from. I wasn't loling this time. The thing is, it seems the booze is putting me in a position of danger where I may not be able to control myself. Don't I sound edgy and dark. Moviestar cool.

Saturday
Worked. Went for coffee with two mates this evening. Saturday nights ain't what the used to be. Of the two lads one I'm always happy to see, the other I could probably have avoided for another month. Sad to say, but true. Some babes in grounded tonight too. I wondered could I pull in a coffeeshop and thought probably not in Newry. When I relayed this to someone else they told me they couldn't even walk up to a girl without being drunk. Sounds good to me.

Sunday
Worked. So blame work for this shitty post. You know what? blame work for everything. I was born to be an hereditory playboy but never recieved my yacht. Oh well, back to work. Laughing today at how I am the most unscroupulous gossip in history. I can't hold my piss. It's hilarious though because I keep getting told all the dirty little secrets. Even more amusing when I tell everyone else what I know. Yes I am a gossip whore. Could have been the Max Clifford of that place. Now I'm just a 3am girl.


No drink. Whoop. But really not that bad a weekend overall to be honest. Strenghtened some friendships. That'll keep me happy. A comment wouldn't be missed either but I know how hard it is thinking of something to write