Mind Games

Okay, I don't know where I'm going with this one- so bear with me. I've been thinking (too much) about states of mind. The Dis-united States of Mind. I can't think of a better visual metaphor than the glass that is half full / half empty. I am Half Empty Pessimist who is attempting to drop years of conditioning and somehow (?) morph into a Half Full Optimist.

I've heard some people say, 'I can't help it, I'm an optimist,' and I think, (lucky you) what's to help? Instead, I myself have grown up with ethos of 'better watch out' and 'don't get your hopes up (incase they get dashed)'. I realise now that I'd rather be an optimist who could have high hopes dashed and then dust them off, learn from the experience and have the grace to see the good in most things; than a pessimist who steels myself for every possible 'disaster'.

Don't get me wrong - My pals and I in the ME world used to get annoyed by 'the sunset brigade' - i.e. people who said, 'My ME has made me appreciate a beautiful sunset, so it has some benefits...' No need for a sunset badge here.

I suppose I'm trying to create (or uncover?) an inner stability despite the ups and downs of everyday life. It's a long process. Whoops, another negative qualification. Tricky. It's got to be the right direction though. Hasn't it...???

-C

"What if everything is an illusion and nothing exists? In that case, I definitely overpaid for my carpet." Woody Allen

Not the Tremblin' Kind

I've had such a quiet day. Monday is always a metaphorical desk clearing day. I fall back to to my baseline activity level of being able to do very little. There is so much controversy about self-management in ME, I often give myself no peace wondering if I should be trying harder to do more. Yet my body craves rest like a wilted pot plant craves water. On Mondays (more than any other day) I try to listen to it and give my mind a rest too.

I remember once needing to get a taxi for a few blocks and an ex boyfriend saying to me in exasperation, 'Oh, for god's sake, how tired can you be?' And that's it in a nutshell. It's nothing to do with tiredness. It's some kind of cellular meltdown.

By evening I struggled down to the local supermarket. A middle-aged supervisor woman was yelling at one of the check-out boys in front of the customers. He had run out of change and there was a queue at his till.

'Don't stop serving,' she shouted.

'I've run out of change,' he said.

'You should have rung for change. Don't stop serving!'

'I rang before.'

'No you never,' she insisted for all around to hear.

What a sledge hammer phrase 'No you never' is. She really humiliated the poor guy, shouting further about how he was holding up the queue. I wanted to challenge her and say that, as a customer, I found this unfair and uncomfortable. I was a coward though. I thought she'd lay into me too. I wondered if I'd be mature enough in a few years to say something. (I regret being one of the 'neutrals' at school who would see kids getting taunted or bullied, yet we'd never dare to step in).

I paid for my biscuits and told the guy at the till that I thought he had been shouted at unfairly. 'It does'ny bother me,' he said. Whether true or false, I thought his response was stoical and masculine. I thought good on him for not letting his bottom lip tremble.

-C

The Midnight Hour

If you ever book a flight that is due to leave just after midnight, remember that the date changes. So, ten past mignight on 'Sunday' night is actually Monday morning and you get to feel like an imbecile by being 24 hours too late for check in. Your bottom lip will start to tremble and you will be invited to purchase alternative flights to Manchester at 3.20am. At this stage, you may cry to your partner and be very grateful that they don't verbalise or elaborate on your idiot status.

Eventually we got 2.40 am flights to Glasgow - a long night of hassle. Just as well we had a lovely holiday before that - snorkelling in turquoise waters; cafe con leches in street cafes; siestas and more siestas. Nice Man sang at an open air bar at the end of the harbour as the moon crept up from behind the hills. We enjoyed the hospitality of amigos in Palma and we visited Chopin's hilltop monastery. Ah, the smell of the pines and the sound of goat bells ringing out in the dusk across the Tramuntana mountains...alegria.

-C

Hasta Mañana

Who is missing from this breakfast table? Not the three bears but myself, the Nice Man and maybe a couple of German backpackers. However, we may well chew croissants there tommorrow morning. I'm still a bit daunted by the journey but we're off to the airport soon. I have lost my mobile phone (can you believe it?) or had it stolen, so no need to text a ned/robber/confused pensioner to say 'Have a good trip!' Hasta Luego amigos.

-C

Nano Nano

I read an article recently about the potential health risks of nanoparticles in cosmetics. New technology has allowed the creation of nanoparticles that are so miniscule you can get 8000 of them across the diameter of a human hair. Or is it 80000? Anyway - it's mind bending to think of the scale. Scientists are now voicing concerns that these particles could be absorbed by the skin and end up in parts of human cells and organs, where they shouldn't be. Call me paranoid. Wrap me in unchlorinated cotton wool. Tell me a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. But my gut instinct will protest that if I survived 38 years without nano particles in my toothpaste and suncream, then I don't need them now.

Quote- “Companies should stop treating their customers like guinea pigs and avoid marketing such products until nanomaterials are proven safe,” said FoE Scotland chief executive Duncan McLaren. “ In the past, regulators failed to heed early warning signs on substances like asbestsos and DDT resulting in serious environmental and financial costs. Today, they should be taking a precautionary approach.”

I took my suncream back to Boots and explained to the girl that I wanted to exchange it for one minus the nanos. She checked with her supervisor and reluctantly did the exchange while telling me her boss said, 'the papers are wrong.' I didn't reply. Neither of us has a degree in toxicology. I have a school of life diploma in trying to avoid the possibilty of even more vandalism in my cells. It can be quite a lonely classroom when most people think you're just being silly.

-C

This is me since yesterday

July already? Laura Hird has a dynamic website with a monthly showcase for new writers. This month I'm featured in the poetry section beside others whom I haven't read yet. I will peruse when I get time.

I feel wrecked after an enjoyable weekend staying with friends. I'm back to 'catching up' mode. Catching up on sleep. Catching up on unloading the dishwasher and chasing odd socks towards the washing machine. My hair could use a trim but it galls me to pay an average £40 a time when men can get clipped for a fiver. My sister had a business idea to start a chain of hair salons where you didn't have to talk trivia to the hairdresser. Speechless Styles. Sshh Hair. None of this, 'what shampoo do you normally use?'

-C

'Just Call Me Besotted'

Nine days and counting til I'm off with Mr Nice Man on 'wur holidays' to this wee town in Mallorca. I bought a proper snorkel mask today. It wasn't too cheap but when I tried snorkelling once before, I bought a mask from the bucket-and-spade-and-sombrero shop. All the water got in the side. I have learned my lesson! This time I wish to commune with the fish.

It was good to catch up with Stuart this week between his European and US tours. He came snorkel shopping with me and we got a blimmin parking ticket which he kindly offered to pay for. I'll pay him back. I really will.

We sometimes meet people around Glasgow from our shared history when we were both ill. Today we met a guy we called, 'just call me besotted,' as this was what he randomly said to me at a party years ago. It was nice to say hello. I prefer that, rather than pretending not to remember someone. And it was a funny line. We went to some silly parties back then. I once dressed up as a sailor and Stuart was Dennis the Menace. Looking for mischief, clearly.

-C

PS On reflection I think my post may be unfair to 'Call me besotted.' Indeed, just call me, 'She's got a cheek blogger.'

The Cost of the Fight

I was crying yesterday when I read of the case of 32 year old Sophia Mirza who died as a result of having ME. The autopsy found acute inflammation of the brain stem and spinal cord. And yet the line quoted by many reports is that she died of a 'fatigue syndrome.' That useless and inaccurate word 'fatigue'. How can it possibly describe the kind of systemic collapse that leaves people unable to move, talk or chew food? Sophia's was a heart-breaking case and it was her last wish that her mother tell her story to help the fight for research and real understanding of the severity of ME.

-C

Jet Lag x 30 without the Journey

The topic today is jet lag without the plane, hence I can crow bar in a cute photo of my niece on a flight. But seriously folks, a private doctor once took a test to measure my levels of melatonin over 24 hours. If melatonin is high and rising we feel drowsy and jet lagged. If it's low and falling, we feel awake. In true jet lag the body's internal clock (and its secretion of melatonin) gets out of synch. The morning reading of my melatonin was actually off the scale of the test. It was above 30 times the normal range. I still sleep for 8 hours and wake up feeling as if I am under anaesthetic; as if I have flown to New Zealand and back and forgot to get off the plane. It's a horrible feeling of being cheated. The medical books call it 'non-refreshing sleep,' which feels like a euphemism for the more common or garden 'death warmed up.' It's so mysifying and demoralising. I tried a light box, which is supposed to deplete melatonin but it didn't work for me personally;and later I read of a controlled study where it didn't work for other PWME either.

Anyway, I start the day feeling wrecked and if I'm lucky I'll get out for a couple of hours in the afternoon. I'm going for a massage later with the talented Paula who has a great turn of phrase. On the topic of trying to brush back teeth effectively she said, 'I nearly gie myself the dry boke, so I do.'

-C

Do Leave the Light on Baby

I visited this lighthouse on Islay. There were goats with beards scrambling about the rocks, looking alarmed by my presence. I flew back today and realised how my tendency to impatience can overtake reason. The small Islay plane had to abort a take off on the runway. The pilot announced that a warning light was flashing so they would have to run a few checks. The checks seem to take ages. We sat on the runway with engines revving and I kept thinking, sod the warning light, let's just take off, shall we? I'll risk it...

Pilots always have sexy voices - ultra capable and relaxed. This guy had lovely Irish accent.

PS. Font sizes? I'm confused as my new Windows XP seems to make all the screen text smaller. Different computers and browsers show different sizes. I'm making my blog text bigger just incase. Is it too 'shouty?' I hate peering at the screen as if I need glasses. And excuse any spelling mistakes. My spell checker no worky.

-C

The Scottish Hotel Biscuit Challenge

I launch it here and now:- the Scottish hotel biscuit challenge. I can't believe how many times I've gone into a rural hotel, mid afternoon in Scotland and ordered a cup of tea. I'll pause politely, then ask if they have biscuits, or scones or 'anything like that.' They can usually do tea (often with uht milk from a plastic thimble) but the biscuit part leaves them with a blank or mildly disapproving expression. It's as if I'm asking for a cup of tea and some class A drugs please. Eye rolling and intake of breath ensue. You're a HOTEL, for god's sake; not a fishing tackle shop or a sawdust and spit bar. Sort it out.

Apart from that, I'm still on holiday enjoying the nature-fest and conversations with friendly locals. People I meet after 20 years away say, 'you still look the same,' which is nice. They've forgotten the Madonna 80's perm then.

-C

Saponification - I'm Worth It!

This is the Isle of Islay as viewed by the man on the moon. I grew up here from age 10 to age 17 and I'm flying there tomorrow for a wee holiday with my parents. The plane is like a pencil with wings and takes about half an hour from Glasgow. Will it be warm enough to swim in the sea?

Hey - I'm on my new laptop. I thought the experience would be like running through daisy fields naked but it's more like learning to drive a mini bus when you're used to a car. I keep getting security pop ups telling me I need to update my software - and the computer is only an hour old. I haven't worked out how to import all my settings yet. Sorry, this is nerd-speak, mere teething trouble.

I do get fond of specifics and my chosen products though. I use a green soap called Olivio (or is it Olivia?) and the only ingredient is 'saponified olive oil'. God knows how they do that, but it sounds better than 23 chemicals because 'you're worth it.'

-C

PC Plunge

I had to buy a new computer like swimers have to dive into the cold sea in one swift plunge. (Have you noticed how they call them notebooks now as opposed to laptops? Is 'laptop' too close to lap dancing?). I got edgy and indecisive in the shop and then eventually I held my debit card out to the salesman and I just wanted it over quickly. I walked out feeling elated with the urge to spend more money.

The dental hygienist said my gums were a joy to see. She's easily pleased then. It's the best way to be. When I get the new notebook set up, I'll get back to more regular blogging.

-C

Computer says No

Friends, Romans and Countrymen, I have missed you. I still miss you. My laptop is misbehaving to a level that urges me to lob it out the window. I am unable to blog from home. I can send the odd webmail but not consistently. I can't do attachments or myspace. I have done all the spy bot, defrag, anti viral stuff that friends have taught me over the years. Decision time is looming on whether I should buy a new laptop. Major purchase decisions are not my forte. I can take about 2 months to choose a new pair of shoes. I might have one last attempt and phone the local laptop fixer shop where the tech heads start by asking me questions like, 'Could something be covering the air vent?' (What, like a matress? Only if I'm planning on arson).

My car is also broken. I'm off to the dentist soon. Maybe they'll suggest dentures.

-C

Message in A Bottle

Help! My e-mail is malfunctioning. I feel as if I am shrinking like Alice in Wonderland. I cannot e-mail any of you good people. Even my crummy webmail won't respond my insistent proddings. I have been googling error codes and disabling anti virus software all afternoon to no avail. We shall speak anon.

-C

Constant Gardening

I'm back from niece-visiting in Engerland, excited to have a bath in my own flat and to be reunited with my electric toothbrush. It was good and yet hectic:toddler tantrums and car-alarm cries redeemed by moments of unplanned cuteness. I'm amazed at the levels of energy required for the basic maintenance of children. 'The first year is all gardening,' said my sister. Here's to their constant effort.

Tonight I caught up on reading other blogs and I realise that all blogs are better read as they are posted. Catching up on backlogged blogs doesn't have the same appeal. I still worry about the whole self centered-ness of being a blogger. I have converted a few friends to blogging and they haver about it too...we're a circle of slightly paranoid bloggers.

On my trip I arranged to meet an ME phone friend for the first time in person. We went to a restaurant and shared a cheese platter by candle light. It was uplifting to see her feeling better for the first time in years.

-C

Limited Liberty by the letter L

Well, I had such a great time on Arran, I don't know where to begin. I risk boring you all with my you-should-have-seen-this talk. I'll have to discipline myself to one letter of the alphabet. Like L for lambs, log fires, lovely friends who invited me (thank yees), long beaches, local hospitality, lightning and thunder,

lasagne, laughter and leisurely chat, and most of all a luxurious sense of liberty - while it lasted. I'm wrecked again now, but I have happy mental postcards to leaf through.

I feel uncharacteristically busy as I'm away again tomorrow to visit my nieces for a week. Maddy is two and Nuala is a just few weeks old and cries a lot. To remedy this, Maddy offered to 'hit Nuala with a big stick'. Distraction will be required.

-C

PS I'm changing fonts for a while.

Are we there yet?

Some friends have kindly invited me to stay at their cottage on the isle of Arran for a few days. I've packed my tartan rug and will report back later.

-C

Older but only slightly less sinister

Cover stars ten years older feeling slightly less sinsister. I made Stuart do it. We had a nice sandwich in the cafe afterwards, although I felt slightly queasy after that rice krispie cake.

-C

Double Kisses, Single Goodbyes.

Will someone please issue standard guidelines about social kissing? We have gone all European and lots of folks now aim for a kiss on both cheeks..but not everyone. I can get traumatised by one side alone; now we have to do that awkward head jiggle, trying to guess if two kisses are required.

It's almost as embarrassing as 'The Double Goodbye' as cited in 'Curb your Enthusiasm'; when you say a big flurry of goodbyes to someone and then meet them again two minutes later - eg. at the till in Somerfield. (Don't get me started on the shortcomings of Somerfield).

So last night, I enjoyed the miscellaneous social collision in the pub, that was Alasdair Gray , Stuart, Marisa, Francis, and The Tourettes. You can see I've just learned to do links. We talked philosophy and life after death. Or not.

Okay, bye for now. That'll be a single goodbye.

-C

PS Picture is by Francesco Hayez.