Letter to the Editor

Dear Life,

You were a present to me.
I was apprehensive, a bit unsure, about how to use you.
It was a new experience, trying you on;
Mum and Dad helped me put on the sleeves and fit my feet into your mold.

As time went on, you grew on me, and I into you.
You became like a friend, a companion,
And we were inseparable.

Soon you took up my whole existence.
I lived for you, breathed for you, worked for you.
You took over my whole being.

But it wasn't that bad really, because I kind of enjoyed it too.
I wasn't so much a slave, as a right-hand-woman.

More time passed. I've gotten to know you better.
I understand a bit more, about how you work, what your features are,
How to use your many functions.
I might have even helped some other people fit into their models better.
You are a strange commodity, you are.

So today I thought I'd write to you because I've been thinking a lot
About our time together.
We had fun, didn't we?

I'm glad I got to know you, first meet you, then use you,
In fact, you were probably the best birthday present ever.

One day I hope to pay you back.
About the time I retire, that'll be the day we become just buddies - so I've heard.
Until then, I still strive to be my best,
For you.

Yours sincerely,

*********

Friend of Servitude

Depression - really?

Today, for about 23 minutes, I was left feeling sorry for myself. The act of going into a state of dullness and gentle depression probably happens to a lot of people for a little bit, once or more times in our lives.
For these 23 minutes, I sat somewhere, staring into space for a while, fell half asleep (for want of nothing to do at all, and sleep is the only state of unconsciousness that is actually healthy from as far as I know), checked the time too many times and breathed deeply.
It was extremely unproductive.
I let myself do it because I thought, hey, life isn't fair, emotions do things to humans, I'm a teenager and I'll feel what I like.
And then it passed and I was fine.
Life's not depressing at all, really, because there's always someone worse off than you. Says the person who has it pretty good. (Yes, good, not well, it's not the place for an adverb.)

Ah yes... life. That strange equation summing to 42. What is the question of life?
6x7=

So basically what I say is,
depression is overrated.
Today someone told me that over 50% of all NZers have some form of depression, most just haven't been diagnosed.
Pfft. What a load of piffle.
It's a disease or illness if you give it symptoms and medication. The 21st century might as well be known as the hypochondriac century - everything is wrong, everything needs to be fixed, and in most cases, with drugs.

Ever heard of emotions? Humans having a little down time? Having a bad day? Or has this simple concept been abolished, so that today if you're sad, you're depressed, and if you're depressed, there's something seriously wrong with you and here you go, a nice three month supply of colourful pills that might possibly make you feel slightly better if it works.

From www.medterms.com
The signs and symptoms of depression include loss of interest in activities that were once interesting or enjoyable (maybe I just don't feel like it today?), including sex (too much is actually possible); loss of appetite (anorexia) with weight loss (maybe I'm not hungry) or overeating with weight gain (maybe I'm extra hungry); loss of emotional expression (flat affect) (maybe don't want to talk to you); a persistently sad, anxious or empty mood (it's a bad day, ok?); feelings of hopelessness, pessimism, guilt, worthlessness, or helplessness (all very human, you over-analysing git); social withdrawal (like some alone time); unusual fatigue, low energy level, a feeling of being slowed down (didn't get enough sleep last night); sleep disturbance with insomnia, early-morning awakening, or oversleeping (it's called being a teenager); trouble concentrating, remembering, or making decisions (again, teenagehood); unusual restlessness or irritability (mood swings, anyone?); persistent physical problems such as headaches, digestive disorders, or chronic pain that do not respond to treatment (emotions, dammit. They make you feel stuff physically but it's not like you can eat drugs and feel honestly happy, that's just called being high); thoughts of death or suicide or suicide attempts (Ok this one is not normal). Alcohol or drug abuse may be signs of depression (no, that's signs of stupidity).

So you see?
Don't blow things out of proportion. If you're seriously actually chronically clinically scientifically neurologically depressed, go ahead, get help. Help is good. And sooner is better than later. Yay for help!
But...
If you're having a bad day, get over it.

Arrival of the Relatives (with no ominosity whatsoever) (what do you mean ominosity isn't a word)

The great thing about having visitors over at your house is that you get to go along with the ride. My uncle and aunt arrived today from a 16 or so hour long plane flight and we had pizza for lunch (ok not so whoopdee doo) but then for dinner was a massive minibanquet, I mean 5 different dishes of greens and meat and cashews and awesome stringy salad things and amazing fungi in the sense of the word… laid out in the middle of the table, and nothing goes better with it all than pure beautiful rice, which is what we had, not the weird dry kind where you can pick up a single grain, but slightly sticky and naturally sweet, perfect from our rice cooker every time…

And of course to compliment was both red and white wine. Well – I’m not sure about calling it wine – the red yes, the white, ‘twas Chinese (I believe), fifty-something percent, I had a lick (that is less than a sip) and it felt like I’d just sanitised my lips. All very festive of course.

Ah, beautiful visitors…

On another note, no wait – it’s the same note – same song at least –

There’s the present factor. My sister and I each got a watch. An awesome Swatch watch. My sisters has bunny like creatures, hoards of them, printed on her strap. Mine has a variety of knots and their names. I like it. A lot. It’s better than jelly. The strap actually looks a bit like jelly (the material it’s made of, of course). There’s just one little hitch (haha because there’s a few knots called something-hitches) – it’s flipping LOUD. That little mechanical tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick – tick

– it will keep me up all night.

But I’ve always wanted a watch! (Truth be told I have plenty, they’ve just all run out of battery and I’m too lazy or inexperienced to put fresh ones in. You know what I mean. Don’t give me that look. I saw you. You do it too. I know it.)

Why are there no photos on here from Germany, since I appear to rave on about my trip?

Because technology hates me.

Back to reality?

Term 3 exams are coming up.
They matter.
So I have to get my head out of Germany and back into reality.


Whilst in Germany, I felt like I was in a dream; such a good dream, I dreaded waking up; I could have slept for at least another year. And then the dream ended and I woke up, except that the dream was so vivid, it was like reality, I remember it so clearly and it has imprinted itself solid into my brain.

Unfortunately this means that concentrating on what I need to now, which is school work, is absolutely terrifyingly difficult.

Even my physics teacher noticed that I'm not like usual (usual being before Germany).
My head is never in my work; to even try stop thinking about that wonderful month makes me think about it even more (a bit - no, a lot like doing ICAS English when you aren't concentrating and the more you try to get back into the text, the more you think about getting back into the text, and thus the more you can't get back into the text because you're stuck there thinking about trying to concentrate which isn't actually concentrating because you're thinking about thinking).

It's ridiculous.