Another WTF Moment…
The last few days I've had a lot of downs to go with very few ups. I can't remember the last time I was so frustrated with my own situation... It was probably nine years ago... If you have read the last couple of posts, you'll know how unbelievably dense my Handler is, well this morning it got so much better...
I received an email at twenty past nine this morning from my Handler. When I saw her name appear in my inbox, I felt a sudden twinge of hope wash over me. I honestly thought for one second she had taken a little bit of notice and was going to give me some good news for a change. Then I read the subject line which pessimistically stated: 'a new suggestion'.
I'm going to quote verbatim what she wrote, because to make light of it, or to 'translate' it would put my shiny VAIO at risk.
Good morning!
Just wanted to add a little thing to your journal! (and as well to do at home)
I want you to everyday write down what has been better with this day than the day before.
I want you to really think about it, and not only write down the same thing every day but something new. Really try to see what has been better with that specific day and write it down in your journal.OK? Good luck!
I will apologise now for my upcoming language ...
WHAT THE FUCK?
As I write this post, I am curiously at a loss for words, well all words that don't contain four letters... To be my age and be treated this way is so bloody demeaning that I find myself at well past boiling point. And, even though it's probably not a very good idea, I am going to refuse to do this. I don't mind keeping a journal of my experience whilst attending the pointless work training sessions, mainly because it gives me something to do. But to spend my time writing a journal for a person that has little to no understanding of me and my situation ... well, I think my refusal will go through many draft phases before it's sent...
Life Wasting…
So yesterday I went to see my G.P. to chat about pain management. With my condition seeming to deteriorate progressively as the days pass, and with me having to attend a life wasting two hour session of bullshit twice a week, I am beginning to get a little bit fed up with the whole thing.
After explaining to my G.P. that sitting at a desk for any length of time longer than ten or so minutes ends up with me needing a frontal lobotomy to forget the pain, he said that he would sort this out because there's obviously some underlying problem (!! No? Really? /sarcasm).
He suggested that he and my Handler have a chat to sort out the 'Work Training' situation and then he said that he wanted to do a few more tests. I'm all for tests, me, so I readily agreed to be poked and prodded in the usual places and then he did a reflex test on my arms.
Now, a year or so ago he took my blood pressure and his exclamation of "Wow!" after taking it was one of the more worrying things that has happened to me in a Doctor's surgery, so when that old familiar exclamation of "Wow!" resounded as he tapped my arm with a little hammer-thingy, my stomach cartwheeled - and not in a good way. In his pidgin English he explained that my reflexes were hyper-exaggerated (whatever that means), and there could be some sort of neurological problem. So that means referrals, of which I am to expect two of... to two separate specialists. Oh, the Joy.
After this awesome Doctor's appointment, I had to attend a meeting with my Handler and the two people that run the 'Work Training' office that I attend on Tuesday and Wednesday. I'll be honest and say I had no expectations prior to the meeting, in fact I have stopped expecting anything from my Handler any more.
During the meeting I explained what the Doctor had said, reiterating the point that he thinks that me sitting at a desk is obviously not a good idea. I also told them about the referrals to the specialists and the possibility that I have some sort of neurological damage (again - whatever that means), and the response I got was this, and I have no better way of explaining this other than to transcribe it from my (slowly decaying) memory:
"Let's talk goals," said the Handler, "I think what we should be pushing for here is for you to try and stay for longer and that you should start to say hello to people when you arrive."
"Say hello to people?" I quizzed, and her response was even more astounding than her initial statement.
"Yes, the more you say hello to people, the quicker you will get better."
"Okay... Er, I'm sorry, I'm not really following..?"
"The important thing is to get you socialising..."
This is in response to my Doctor's recent diagnosis that I suffer with a mild form of Asperger's Syndrome, in which my phobia of social situations causes me to shut down. I of course understand what he means, having lived forty years in a body and mind that 'shuts down' in social situations. However, I have survived the last forty years without having to socialise to any great extent so... I really don't see it as a problem. My Handler seems to be on a mission to 'cure' me of Asperger's - of which there is no cure, of course, and this mind-blowing assertion she has now has made me resent the hell out of her even more. I mean, talk about losing focus. Instead of the crippling pain that she's putting me through twice a week (for no apparent reason that I have seen), she's more concerned with me making nice with my 'work' colleagues.
"You should even say hello if they are busy and not looking at you... that's a good thing," she said.
At this point I think I visibly zoned out and just started agreeing with her to get it over with. She obviously has no clue how to deal with nut-cases like me...
Definition of ASPERGER'S SYNDROME
: a developmental disorder resembling autism that is characterized by impaired social interaction, by repetitive patterns of behavior and restricted interests, by normal language and cognitive development, and often by above average performance in a narrow field against a general background of deficient functioning—called also Asperger's disorder - Merriam-Webster Medical
Souljacked
It's probably just Ryan Air-lag, but after getting home I am absolutely wasted. An early start, yes, but not exactly a deal breaker as it was about 9:15 when we left for the airport.
This trip went quickly ... and when I say quickly, I mean really quickly. And as the end of the day approaches, it feels a little bit surreal that I was ever there in the first place.
I managed to stay awake until about six this evening but then I dropped off whilst watching ESPN - and for the life of me, I cannot remember what it was I was watching either. I woke up a little after ten and I feel crap for the rest, but I have enough energy to eat some food and then call it a night. I stick my AppleTV on and hit random and Eels' Souljacker comes on ... unbelievably fitting.....
70 Years Young
Dad reaches the seventy mark on Monday. I am stunned at how quickly life is passing ever quicker as we all get older. I can still see Dad in my minds eye with thick black sideburns protruding from beneath a Police helmet, a packet of Lambert and Butler cigarettes in one hand and a can of Colt 45 in the other... I want to say T Rex is playing on the radio and everything has a sepia edge to it but that's probably just fanciful fantasy...
Anyway, the long plotted surprise party finally happened today. I think that living in another country I was spared from the drama that was involved in keeping it a secret. From what I understand it was a lot more difficult to keep under wraps that you would have thought. Especially as Tracey knew about it way in advance!!
The party was held at my cousin Sarah's place. An outdoor event, full on BBQ and lashings of Pimm's readily available. And Dad was genuinely surprised and seemed to have a brilliant time. He even played Swing-Ball!
I'm not sure if there was a vote, but if there was I wasn't included in it. The results were that I was picked to do the BBQ... Now, I'm not a bad cook but I have never in my entire life used a gas powered BBQ and made food for fifteen people. The results were pretty much what I expected, and I can't see me being picked for a BBQ duties again any time soon...
The Hits Keep Comin’
Ryan Air is in the business of making money. In fact, more so now than ever before has it been so obviously apparent. Not only do you have to jump through hoops to make a simple online booking, but navigate those hoops incorrectly and you could find yourself with some brand-spanking-new Samsonite luggage. I found to my dismay that another hoop has been added to their number with the 'useful' function of being able to pre-book your seat number - for another £10 a sector. The utter bedlam this causes whilst trying to take your seat is another matter that I am just too cranky to write about...
What passengers fail to realise is that after you've added your luggage, your golf club, your guitar, your poster carrier, added priority or seat number, insurance (the list goes on...) you still end up getting on a bloody Ryan Air flight! Stop handing over the money and they'll stop thinking of more ways to get it out of you..!
Low cost budget airline? Not any more. On my particular route I worked out that I could get the train to Arlanda, get on a BA flight to Heathrow and then get the Tube home for practically the same price as a return flight on Ryan Air. And I'm not including luggage and extras that are built into a BA flight, either. Obviously, this depends on the date and route chosen - but unfortunately for me, it's a matter of ease and comfort(!?!) over cost. Spending a day travelling rather than a couple of hours means less back/neck pain, so I'm pretty much stuck with Ryan Air out of Vasteras. Which is a shame because sometimes I'd like to get on a plane and have a coffee served to me with a smile instead of having to take out a mortgage for one on a Ryan Air flight, only to have it be instant coffee in a paper cup. I mentioned comfort. I found that it didn't matter when I boarded the plane, I was usually lucky enough to get the exit seats in the centre of the aircraft. This meant that my back didn't go into spasm and I was relatively comfortable for the short flight. Now, because of the seat number debacle, they stick a photocopied note on the seat stating 'RESERVED', which I found out today to be complete bollocks. After one of the cabin crew realised that the exit seats needed to be used (the plane was at capacity), she quickly removed the reserved notes and seated the passengers that got on the plane last. Not me, I was told I couldn't sit in a reserved place unless I had actually reserved it... I was a little pissed off with this after the twelve late arrivals were seated in extra legroom - without reserving the seats. It also meant that the shit-kicking seven year old in the seat behind me played penalty shoot-out with my chair back for two and a half hours. This last thing isn't Ryan Air's fault, of course, but I'm bitter and today I'm putting it squarely in their lap...
I used to love this way of travelling from Vasteras. There were two flights a day, seven days a week. Now there are only five flights a week for about a 1200% increase in fare. I remember a few years back, I got a return flight to London for 2p..! Those deals are long gone and Ryan Air obviously needs to remain competitive in a market that is dying a slow and painful death, but I think that if the company doesn't do something about quality of service instead of speed (that bloody fanfare on arrival has got to be the single most annoying thing, ever), then it's going to go the way of other budget airlines. Although I get the feeling that it's circling the bowl already...
Neighbours from hell…
I had new neighbours move in at the start of last month ... every other day they open their windows and blast out death metal... Today, I take a stand, and I'm currently counter-blasting 70's Disco ... I have no idea if it's working though, as I can only here Barry White just now...
Chuck Lorre’s Vanity Card #387
Every show that Chuck Lorre produces ends with a vanity card. These cards can range from funny to downright hilarious. Last weeks episode of The Big Bang Theroy (5x23 -- The Launch Acceleration), ended with one of the best ever...
He appeared normal. He spoke and behaved just like anyone else. The fact that he had no heart was very well concealed. Well, that's not entirely true. He did have one. It was just not in his possession at the moment. And this is where the story gets complicated. The woman who had the darn thing was blithely unaware of the fact. Well, that's not entirely true either. She knew that she'd left the relationship with more stuff than when she entered it, she just hadn't bothered to do a proper inventory. (Had she done so, she would have found several other hearts, as well as a few sets of balls.) Regardless, his dilemma remained the same. A woman had absconded with a vital organ and the gnawing emptiness he felt was a direct reflection of that vacancy. Well, that's not entirely true either. The gnawing thing had actually been with him since he was a child. He just liked to assign blame for the condition.
Direct link to this card and the rest of Chuck's cards here.
Strainious
My second week of Work Training is done. I didn't fair too well this time around though, I left after an hour on Tuesday due to severe back ache - caused mainly from travelling in on the bus (I reckon), which was made worse by having to stand on the bus on the way home too.
Wednesday I managed to do two full hours of duty, I was pretty out of it though. Before I left I took a few Codeine and one of Dad's post-op pain killers and sat for the duration in a semi-comatose stupor.
I was introduced to someone called Sophia, who's accent was so London I felt it necessary to mention. Turns out she spent a lot of time in London and also Maidstone... I think I may have freaked her out a bit and she was gone before we could converse at any length... being stoned obviously has its drawbacks...
Today was like a holiday from it all... a nice breather. I was up early, watched some TV, went to the Physio, watched some TV... not exactly strenuous but I needed a day like today to recover from the stress and pain of the previous few.
Email in my inbox: No.1 is due for renewal at the end of May ... luckily my tenants want to hang in for another year, but I lose half a month's rent in the process. So it looks like I'll have to put off buying a new bed for a bit longer...
First Day at AMA Arbetsmarknad
... or Work Training to you and me...
After a dismal night of fettered sleep - rout with dreams, nightmares and cold sweats, I get up at about 8 and after a cup of tea go straight back to bed until 10. My laboured morning wasn't made any easier knowing I had to be in town at 13:00 for my first day at Work Training.
A bowl of All Bran and a banana, a quick shower and all was right with the world. I watch the first half of the Wildcats Championship game from last night - knowing that it would take my mind off of the anxious feelings that had started to well up from my gut. I set the second half to record for when I get in later.
The bus journey is uneventful (apart from it being 10 minutes late) and after a few wrong turns I manage to find where I was supposed to go. I had hoped to get into town earlier to see if I could find somewhere that sold a bus pass but I'll save that until after two hour term on the Fourth Floor.
My contact on the Fourth Floor is Kent. He meets me and explains that for the next two hours I am to do what is expected of me... That being exactly nothing... The Social only wish to know that I'm not sitting at home - being paid for nothing (in their mind). I can understand the sentiment but after 20 minutes of sitting in the same place, my back and neck is roaring and their sentiment means nothing to me.
===============================================================
I buy my bus pass on the way home, painless. Unlike my neck by the time the bus arrived. I can only think that the fact that I was sat in an unusual chair at a desk at a different height than I'm used to caused the stiffness. But either way, it's necessitated the taking of copious amounts of pain killers (of which I'm running out of very quickly).
Anyway, I'm home by 15:40 with a cuppa in hand and the second half of the Championship game on TV.
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