Tag: panic attacks


Tales to tell

June 10th, 2005 — 4:32am

So, you wanna hear about Fiji huh? Well, I guess I don’t blame you. There’s a lot to tell, but if I write it chronologically, it might not work. So maybe I’ll put it under themeatic sections and alphabetise them.

ACCOMODATION
We stayed at a place called Club Fiji, which was nearish Nadi Airport, but had the added distinction of actually being on a beach. Sure, Nadi Bay was really shallow, and when the tide was out the sea was miles and miles and miles away, but it wasn’t too bad to look at. The pool was salt water, which was nice, and there were sun loungers all around, and lots of pretty thatched permanent umbrellas everywhere to sit under, and palm trees and flowers and it was just lovely. Our bure was the futherest away from everything, which meant big long walks to and from the bar & pool, but that’s okay. It was a really nice bure too – wood floors and wood lourves, a big high ceiling, a mosquito net over the double bed which lovely Kate let me have, and a little frige that we filled to the brim. The bathroom was quite spacious too. One night there was a three inch spider in it, so I screamed, but Katie bravely put it outside. I was quite suprised at her coolness in the battle.

The man in the other half of our bure wasn’t quite so cool, however. Oh no. In fact, he told us to turn off our music at 5pm because he was trying to nap (wanker!) and then came and yelled at us when we came back from dinner at 11.30pm (slightly more justified – he should have knocked on the door and been more polite, however). We hypothesized like mad about him, since he appeared to be by himself, before deciding that he had been jilted at the altar and had decided to come on his honeymoon by himself. The fact that a security guard told us that he’d complained another night about the fact that we were LAUGHING, (because how dare we enjoy ourselves on holiday?) seemed to solidify this theory. When we had to get up at 7am to go on a day cruise, I walked ahead of Kate, and he came out and hurled buckets and buckets of abuse at her, saying that we sounded like a pack of drunken hippos, and that she was a fat piece of shit (I don’t know if you’ve seen Kate, but suffice to say that she really isn’t) and that he recommended that she didn’t eat for a year. After that we told the reception staff that we wanted to change rooms, but we didn’t get around to it. We just stalked the guy at the restaurant instead, making loud remarks about how hippos come in herds, not packs. If he’d said something to me instead of Kate, i was going to play Good Cop, and invite him in for a drink and a hug, but he didn’t.

AIRPORTS
I hate airports. Especially if they’re not airconditioned. Or your parents (apparently) think you’re coming back the next day and no one is answering their phone and you are outside in the freezing Wellington wind and you don’t have any house keys and you’re supposed to be at Jessie’s party soon and it’s so cold and your flight was so delayed and you’d already waited for hours the night before at Auckland Airport for a bus and oh I just hate you airports. I’m always crying at you.

BOATS
I was thinking last night that before I went to Fiji I hadn’t been on a boat since January 2nd, 1998 (post The Gathering), but that’s not true cos I went on a ferry between Russell and Paihia, and also on the Hokianga ferry, but we took a lot of boats in Fiji. We went on a Sunset Cruise which we thought would be a big boat, but it was just a rowboat with an outboard motor that we had to cross the sandflats to get to, carrying glasses of wine, and then the guy asked us if he could go faster, and it was great but all the wine flew out of our glasses. Then there was a catamaran out to South Seas Island, and a little boat to get to the island & the submariney boat, and a smaller boat to get to Malamala and their little boat and that’s about it. Well, it certainly felt nautical to me. This is a boring thread.

BOYS
It seems that there is some appreciation for the curves in Fiji – or perhaps because of the heat I was wearing lower cut tops than usual and it would have been the same in NZ. But I’m not sure. One night Kate and I were sitting out on the porch of our bure having a drink, talking shit about the next door neighbour and just generally enjoying ourselves. Kate went inside to pee, or get more drinks, or cheese, or something, when along came the security guard. No, he wasn’t there to tell us to shut up, he just wanted to hang out. Okay. So we made chit chat, and blah blah blah, and Kate came back out again, and we talked some more and then he was boring us and we wanted him to leave but by that stage he was already sitting on the steps of our bure smoking. Since Kate and I had already discussed whether or not we were going to go to mysterious Hell bar that only appeared at night and blasted out bangra til all hours, we asked him if there were any good places we should go to if we were going to go out in Nadi. He was like “you want to go to nightclubs? I know some good places. I’ll take you out tomorrow because I finish my shift at 10pm, so you can get some dinner and I will meet you here”. We were like “oh okay, that sounds okay” before he was all “but you can’t let my bosses know, we’ll have to go secretly, blah blah blah” and “my friend is a taxi driver, I’ll get him to take us” and it just seemed a little more dodgy. And he was staring in the bad way, not the good way. After he finally left, we decided we’d wait and see if we were still keen to go out the next night. After an early morning and a long day on South Seas Island, we decided that no, we weren’t particularly keen to go out, and so we debated all the ways that we could get out of going out – like pretending to be sick, or hiding, or going out by ourselves. He was waiting in the dark for us to walk past though, so we just said we were too tired and he said maybe another night, he’d get his friend to take us out and join us when we finished at 1am. Well, we certainly weren’t very keen to be passed around like that, so in order to get out of it, on another night, we got a guy from the bar to walk us back to our room….

Our waiter at dinner the first night very coconspiritoratorly asked us if we smoked, and I thought he was after a lighter, but then apparently he said somethign about Bob Marley, and I was like “ooooh. No.” but he kept asking, like he wanted to sell us weed, and then he kept touching me, always patting me or stroking me from then onwards and it seemed like he’d go for wherever my sunburn dejour was. I don’t like being touched so much, dammit!

One night we were sitting at the bar having a drink when three local boys asked us to play pool with them. Being obliging young ladies, we said yes, and so we ended up playing two games against them. One of them decided that the best way to pick me up was to talk about how fat I was, first touching my upper arms and saying “powerful muscles!” and then when they asked us if we smoked (dude, what the fuck is it with everyone trying to sell us pot?) and I said no, he was like “oh, I thought you were so fat because you smoked so much”. I was like “I think you’re the rudest boy I’ve ever met. I didn’t say anything about how bad your skin was, you know, where are your manners?” He didn’t get it. Turns out they didn’t get a lot of things. When they kept trying to force their beer on us, telling us how great Fiji Draught was, we asked if they worked for the brewery, or if they were doing viral marketing. They didn’t get it. The guy that was trying to pick Kate up apparentlyl taught web programming, so she told him that I edited websites. He asked me what I did, so I said that I wrote the content for the site. He didn’t understand what content was, and asked me if I wrote in php. It’s nice to know that programmers universally don’t realise that websites actually have to have content! The other guy that was trying for me, who kept touching me got really nasty and competitive when he thought he was losing, while the guy with the bad skin got really bitter that I was playing with his friend. We had to call it a night right about then. They were just toooooo pushy.

Another night at the bar we were talking to everyone there, including Marilyn from Blehiem who we’d got to know on South Seas Island (her and her husband had been coming to Club Fiji for twelve years, twice a year – they took one holiday together and one holiday apart each), and a couple of expats. One of them said he was developing a new resort, and he said he could get us tickets to go out there. Well, yeah, we’re oppotunistic, so we did talk to him for a long time. We got to talking about the upcoming election, and he said he wasn’t voting, so I (of course) went off on a speil about how you’ve got to believe in something and stand up for it (but only if it’s something that I believe in, of course!) and we got on to the civil unions bill – which he thought was wrong. Homos are unnatural. But lesbians are okay – are you guys lesbians? He asked about three times. I told him the say thing every time, that I wasn’t gay with Kate, but yes, sometimes I like women. And then we went into a loooooooooooong speil about how it was perfectly natural. His arguement of course came down to “anal sex with men is gross”. I felt a little bad saying in front of the bartender “so when you’re with a woman, all you ever do is put your penis in her vagina and that’s your whole relationship there?” I think he was too drunk at that stage to get it. He started going on about the bible, so Kate asked him to quote specific passages that spoke out against homosexuality, and I was waiting for him to say Levidicus, but oh no, he didn’t even know that, so we told him that there wasn’t a single mention of it in the bible but boy that was a nice shirt he was wearing of mixed thread. Then Kate said “I’m a scientist…” (which anyone who’s ever heard the story of how outrageously angry she got when we were playing headbands and she was Einstein and when she found out she yelled “BUT YOU SAID I WASN’T AUSTRALIAN!” and we were like …………… until Simon said “are you thinking of Young Einstein?” should know means that she is full of crap, but I was too drunk to hear her say that bit) and launched into a story about how in Africa, there’s been studies done that show there are gay lions who are totally welcomed, because they don’t represent a threat to the leader’s authority, but they help to protect the female lions. Hey, it seemed plausabile at the time, the guy totally believed her – probably partly because he was still hoping we were lesbians together with him. In retrospect, if Kate ever tells that story about the lions again, I told her she should said it’s been written about in a book called Gay Pride. I am hilarious. Anyways, eventually the bar closed, and we realised that the creepy security guard – who had periodically been asking Kate where I was would be lurking around our room wanting to go out with us. We asked the guy to walk us back to our room, and his eyes went !!!!!!!!, so when we got back to our room I said “you do realise we’re not going to have sex with you, right?” and he said “do you have anything to drink?” and then peed in the bushes while Kate went back to reception to get them to unlock our room cos we’d lost our key (inside, we’d left our room open but housekeeping must have locked it). Charmer. Eventually I got bored, and he hadn’t given us tickets, so I went to bed. He asked Kate to go for a moonlight walk on the beach, but strangely she declined, so he finally left. I hope that our gay lions have changed his outlook on life.

COMEDY DUO

Apparently Kate’s dad has suggested that her and I together are a comedy duo. Once she told me that, it was a phrase that I heard many times in my head, when Kate’s suitcase weighed 30kg at check-in, or when we lost our room key, or when we couldn’t get out of the water on Malamala Island because of the undertown and slippery sand, or when we got caught up in hammocks etc…. Possibly the biggest mistake this comedy duo made was to try to walk through the field between our resort and the next. It was dark, deep and full of infectious mosquitos, ditches and streams. No snakes though.

FLIGHTS
The flight to Fiji was much more spacious than I thought it would be. I loved the tan fake leather seats. We asked if we could be upgraded, and they checked, but apparently it was full. The continental breakfast was quite good. I didn’t have champagne. The movie was Lemony Snickett so I didn’t watch it. The flight back was much more squishy. I drank some wine. The movie had Vin Diseal and kids in it. What was Lorelei thinking?

FOOD
I ate a lot of rib eye. The food was mostly decidedly average, but the steak was good.

INJURIES

  • My many mosquito bites that I scratched have now turned white and black, with raised red areas around them. They feel warmer than the rest of my legs. The pharmacist suggested I should go to a doctor. I think my legs are going to fall off with gangrene.
  • Have you ever had to put peroxide on a whole heap of nasty coral scratches? MOTHERFUCKING STING OUCH. I used vodka on them (and in me) for the next couple of days after that.
  • Nasty heat rash type thing across Mary-Kate & Ashley. Sure, hit me in my
    one pretty spot, you bastard.
  • (25 June: I’m still on antibiotics that they had to put into me via drip at first because the mossie bites were so infected. Nice one Jo, way to get to the doctor in time).

    ISLANDS
    South Seas Island has a tiny little backpackers’ on it, but we were just there for the day. It’s very pretty, but the beach is very sharp. Luckily, they have a pool! And they take you out into deep water for snorkelling. I heart South Seas Island, only 25 minutes from (horrible) Denerau.

    Malamala Island was suggested to us by the tour desk, who said that the beach wasn’t rocky at all. She lied. I hate Malamala Island. It’s pretty, but the beach is ridiculously sharp, and there’s no pool to cool off in, and the reef is too shallow, and the snorkelling is freaky, and there aren’t any sun loungers to sit on, only tables with benches.

    LIQUOR
    Kini had told me that Fiji has the cheapest liquor prices at Duty Free, and the travel agent had recommended to us that we take a couple of bottles over if we wanted to have pre dinner drinks and the like. Fijian Duty Free shops were horrible though, with really really pushy sales attendents. I like to be able to at least set foot in a place before people are trying to get me to buy things. Nevermind. We got a bottle of vanilla vodka and a couple of bottles of overpriced bad white wine (White Label Corbans was everywhere) on the way in, so that we could have pre dinner drinks in our bure. At the bar our drink of choice was generally frozen (and sometimes not yet frozen) margaritas from a slushie machine that cost F$5.50 a piece. Banana coladas were also good. Our trip to South Seas Island included all drinks – but that was cask wine (which they sold for $66 a cask, mind you). On Mala Mala the wine was in 2 litre bottles – which they served in plastic cups with ice cubes in. We took photos of it in all its icey glory. Fijian Draught beer which the horrible boys we played pool with kept trying to force on us (we asked them if they were in viral marketing for the brewery. They said huh?) tasted really bland, as did both Fiji Gold and Fiji Bitter, even though they were free! Despite all the liquor flowing we only got really drunk one night.

    READING MATERIAL
    I read four books and Metro and Q and the Sunday Herald cover-to-cover. Late one night when it was too hot to sleep, I was sitting up reading Heavier Than Heaven, even though it seemed strange to be reading about cold rainy Aberdeen and heroin when I was in the sun with a cocktail in my hand most of the time, and it was getting to be the start of 1994 (in the book, not in a time machine, dumbass) and I got to feeling the same way that i did when I first watched Romeo + Juliet ie: “fuck I hope Hollywood has put a happy ending in here, fuck artistic credibility”. Of course, they didn’t, and so Kurt still shot himself in the head and I cried.

    I’m glad that Kate didn’t read Fin because it was all about a fear of sharks (and it was fucking great). Exhibitionism was short stories that made me think of the zine that I really really wanna have finished by next Friday. Hmm, perhaps I should get on to that. And I can’t even remember the name of the yellow book, except that it was about someone called Melody who was trying to put on some kind of hippie festival but she was a great big fuckup. It was very entertaining anyway.

    RELAXING
    I feel bad because I am complaining about quite a few things, but really, that’s because it makes a better story than just saying “we sat in the sun, read books, swam lots and chilled out”.

    It would have been more relaxing if people had left me the hell alone though.

    SNORKELLING

    At South Seas Island, they take you by boat out into the deep water, and it’s AMAZING! Sooooooo many schools of fishies that you can swim amongst, and parrot fish everywhere, and gorgeous coral and yayness, and they let you do your own thing, and it’s just great.

    At Malamala, they take you within the reef for the snorkelling, so it’s so shallow you can stand everywhere – if you can find a patch without coral, that is, and so you’re about a foot over very very sharp things when you’re swimming, and if you’re fat, it’s much less than that, and there aren’t very many fishes, and if you picked up a dud snorkel without a blow valve, and you can’t clear it, and you’re afraid of getting cut, and you have a panic attack, and you signal the boat to come get you, well it’s damn slippery getting in, and you’re going to cut yourself up really badly and sit in the boat freaking out and crying for a long time while strangers look quizically at you.

    SEEDY UNDERBELLY
    Resort staff are weird.

    • Comment » | Journal, Really long stories

    30 November, 2002

    November 30th, 2002 — 3:23pm

    I think I’m menopausal, cos I am full of hot flushes. Although the fact that I’m currently bleeding might suggest otherwise. Oh well.

    Today I went to Rumba! It was hilarious, and also super choice because of the following reasons:

  • I went with Brad and Maree, both of whom I haven’t seen in far too long and both of whom I wish that I could see more of.
  • We got there in time to see Abs play, and he was funny, and needs to smoke less pot so that he can have more breath to sing/rap properly amongst all his dancing. And all the girls at the front chanted for him to take off his shirt, and he didn’t, and he did 5ive songs, which made us all Garland nostalgic.
  • Che Fu fucking rocked. He did lots of fat improvs rather than just playing his singles, which was choice. And his little kid was running all over the stage, and you know I’m a sucker for little brown babies.
  • During Che, I started to feel all funny, like I was dizzy, and then there were hot flushes running all over my body, and everything felt strange and my vision got a little blurry, and i started to freak out, suspecting htat I was having another acid flashback, but I just kept smiling, and reminded myself that it wasn’t that crowded, and maybe my vision was just funny from looking at the big screens and then the stage, thus fucking my depth’o perception, and that I was probably dehydrated, and eventually I remembered that cipramil does occasionally give me random dizzy spells anyways, so I calmed down some.
  • It was fabulous to see lots and lots of people getting down for Che, but the loudest cheering of the day was when they put a pashing couple up on the big screen, and all of Western Springs was roaring until the couple finally looked up and saw themselves and had the grace to laugh and clap.
  • (Sorry Katie but…)Natalie Imbruglia has almost as little charisma and presence and talent as Atomic Kitten. She was awful. We sat off to the side and ate mediocre food instead, laughing at people walking past, such as two girls who bumped into each other and they were both wearing the same top, and oh lordy did they give each other dirty looks.
  • Mazzy went home then cos she had to drive to Hamilton, and so me and Brad went to the main stadium bit again, and had long-trying-to-spot-KateH style cellphoneness, but eventually, we got to see her and say hi and get some goss, and hugs, and then she left, and we went into the crowd to see Bic Runga.
  • When she’d just started playing, I noticed a small cluster of little girls ahead of us all excitedly grouped around a guy who Brad said was the singer from Taxiride. They were takign his picture, and then some of them walked off with him – DODGY James Reid blowjob styles. Dirty dirty dirty.
  • Bic! Oh my god! Oh my god oh my god oh my god. She was AMAZING. Wow, she made it all look so easy. I am madly [in love with her now, and I gotta get her second album, and I thought maybe I could send it but no, and yeah, she was just fucking amazing and gorgeous and beautifl, and then Brad, who was wearing his glasses unlike me, pointed out that Milan was playing drums and singing backup vocals and I almost puddled right there on the grass. Wow. Yeah, go Bic.
  • We’d promised Bo that we’d watch Shaggy but since Pink canceled, we decided we’d leave on the high Bic note instead. I had a stupid big grin plastered over my face after all. And we’d got to complain lots about how we’d paid good money for this and then stop and go “oh wait a minute, we didn’t, oh ho ho ho, brilliant!”. Tom’s calling me a hep Auckland Socialite right now, and maybe he’s right, cos thinking about it, many’o my friends never pay for anything that they do cos it’s all about the connections. (Sometimes I say it’s all about the Benjamins Baby, but, well, that’s another story or four altogether isn’t it?)So yeah, that was brilliant, and then Brad and I came back here and I made more Sangria with Bo and Leo (last night we each bought a bottle of bad red wine cos it was only $5 adn this makes it far more drinkable) and got changed and chilled adn showed Brad bad 13 year old angsty stuff I’d uncovered in my room clean the other night (although that clean was kinda interupted when the lass that i pashed a couple’o weeks ago showed up with Bo and stood in my door and said “are those my shoes? oh no they’re yours” all bashful adn then ran away and I was like “????”) and then we went to Lumiere. I love Lumiere. I took back my drink cos it was flat, adn they gave me a fresh new one all politely so I can continue to recommend it. Mmmm Skky Vodka.

    What else? Oh, my therapist yelled at me yesterday! Yelled at me! Or rather, she shouted at me. It was funny, she said later she’d never ever done that before. The explanation for it is that I was talking about how I think the reason why I tend to hate having people stay with me for more than a night is that I constantly feel on edge, because I believe that people have an expectation of me that I’ll entertain them, and that being an entertainer is a role that I play just so that people will like me, and one of hte only people that I don’t feel like I have to play the Entertainer Role for is Fatty Si, and I can be myself around him but I don’t know who “myself” reallyu is and maybe I should ask him, and then Kalpana went “NO! Don’t do that!” and her point is that I really have to figure out for myself who I am, which is basically the whole point’o my therapy sessions, because I think I’ve realised that my chief problem is that I don’t know who I am and therefore I can’t know where I am going. But Kalpana did go on to contradict herself a little bit when I expressed to her a desire to have someone else photograph me a lot, so that I can see what they’re seeing when they look at me, and she agreed that might be good. Like, I’m not talking about casual snapshots. You may have seen all my webcam photos – well, I took them all, and so I got to make sure that my hair looked good, and I minimised my double chin, and there was lots of my eyes and all that, so basically I think I look good in most of those photos, or as pretty as can be being me, but then in other people’s snapshots I generally look terrible, and it’s just so weird, the contrast, because normally, other people might say I’m pretty (or beautiful, if they wanna cause me problems) but I really have terribly low self esteem when it comes to my body although I try not to focus on that, because that’s a guaranteed way of making myself even less attractive. My point was, if you’re like, a photographer or something, you should take some photos of me. Thank you. You’d be helping a crazy lady.

    Blah blah blah. See how I’m all “Kalpana says…” when she tells me off for reiterating other people’s opinions too much? It’s a catch22.

    Oh, did we talk about my housing situation yet? I don’t think we did. Ammy and I are looking for a flat together, and anyone who knows anything about Auckland is probably aware that the housing situation is FUCKED right now. Bleh. Bleh bleh bleh. I hate househunting. Also, Clay and I will be breaking up after almost four years together. This is progress.

    That’s probably it eh, with some inclusion of hte killer migraine that I’ve had for a week that’s meant that I can’t even wank cos when I come close to orgasm, the most godawful throbbing headsplitting pain kicks in from my neck and radiates out to my temples – EVERY TIME. And even my closely guarded codiene stash doesn’t help. Grrrr. It’s either my new glasses – but I hope not – or that old prosgeteron problem that I got when I first started on Estelle35, which hopefully will go away now that i’ve finally got my bleed and can start taking it again (i’ve been off it for a couple’o months since I didn’t pick up my prescription in time, which you oughta remember if you pay me enough attention). Or maybe it’s OOS, which isn’t cool at all, given that I’m now The Computer Guy at work. I’m rereading all my Narnia books instead’o masturbating since I couldn’t sleep in the lead up to my bleed (as usual), but even though they’re great, it’s no substitute. I’ve just got the last battle to go in ‘The Last Battle’ and then I dunno what I’ll read. I have some more books from Karen – she gave me a fucking great book called “Negative Space” in which I felt much like the main character, except that I don’t have a brother that i’ve had a slightly dodgy relationship with. But it did make me think that maybe I should become a life model, like the girl in the book, after all, there’s plenty’o me to draw. But that thought mostly had to do with the whole “image of myself” trains of thought that i’ve had to think lots about lately due to the whole trying to find myself process. So don’t worry, I won’t be taking off my clothes for the general public any time soon. Oh, unless you happen to be at parties at KateM’s dad’s place anytime soon and I end up going skinnydipping, again. Nevermind.

    • Comment » | Journal

    28 October, 2002

    October 28th, 2002 — 3:57pm

    Monday 28th This is what happened yesterday, and it’s not quite the full story cos I’m not quite ready to go there, because, sweet fuck, there’s a lot of explaining I have to do, but here’s part of it anyways. And if you wonder why I’m only ever writing bad shit these days, that’s because mostly, that’s all there is. And yes, I am taking steps to change things. We were hungover, we’d been watching Anne of Green Gables and eighties movies and other such stuff, and KateB wanted us to watch The Very Brady Sequel, and I had my doubts, so when our other friend suggested we have a smoke, I was very willing. After all, this was supposed to be my last weekend of drinking and so forth. The pot was strong, really strong, and my head started spinning very quickly, and I coughed a lot. KateH rang and I couldn’t string together a sentence. The characters in the movie seemed to be walking around in front of cardboard, and of course, because it’s a remake I wasn’t sure if they were the real Bradys or not. It kinda seemed like they were all laughing at me, and I felt really fucking strange. The other girls didn’t seem to notice it at all. I said “fuck” a lot as the room started spinning, and all of a sudden, the walls were melting into each other. I tried lying down, and that made it worse. I sat up, and it was worser. My vision seemed to have about a thousand layers to it, so I ripped off my glasses and my eyes cleared for a second, and then clouded again. Because the other two were so quiet, I began to suspect that they’d laced the pot with something, and I asked them again and again if they had and they denied it. I couldn’t breath, and I knew that I was having a panic attack, but then my whole body felt strange, like it was seizing up, and they wouldn’t help me, they didn’t think that anything was wrong with me, and they were ignoring me. I realised Bo was asleep in the next room and I knew then that she’d take care of me, she’d make it okay, she’d make it go away. In her room, I lay down on her bed with her and tried to tell her what was going on, but my legs kept twitching, and I was overwhelmed with this massive massive fear, and I just couldn’t communicate what was going on with me. She reminded me to keep breathing, and stroked my arm, and said I could stay with her for as long as I needed. I figured that maybe the pot was reacting with my meds, but then I realised that I’m not actually on any, so then I decided that maybe it was kicking back in the half trip I took in Wellington, although that was just a warm happy speedy smile trip at the time. My whole body was twitching involuntarily, so I thought maybe I was cold and got under the covers, but it kept going, and I was afraid to open my eyes in case of what I might see. Bo told me not to focus on the fact that Iw as having a bad trip, which of course meant that I could hardly think about anything else, except for the fact that i always end up dumping on her, and she has problems of her own. She tried to get me to keep drinking water, because I was getting dehydrated, but I couldn’t, because my breathing was too erratic, and because the water felt too weird sliding down my throat. Parts of my body would feel like they weren’t there anymore, so I’d reach to touch them and other parts would disappear. I tried to keep my hand on my stomach, so that I could concentrate on my breathing, but sometimes I couldn’t feel it. She told me that as I inhaled, I should feel like I was getting in goodness from the world, and as I exhaled that I was getting rid of the bad vibe, and I could visualise it very clearly. I asked Bo to keep talking to me for as long as she could, because she was calming, but at the same time, all conversation semeed like a strain. I just wanted to hear about puppies and kittens and soft things like that that can’t harm. She fetched my teddybear for me, talking while she left the room so that I wouldn’t be too scared. I was a fucking basketcase. All I could do was try to ride out the trip in the fetal position. I wanted something to sedate me, hospital styles, but I also thought that would be even more traumatic. I was just so afraid that I was permanently fried, what with the physical shakes, and the vision and the all that crap. Eventually Bo fell asleep, despite my constant twitchings, and I guess I dozed in and out. I woke up at one stage and felt totally blissfully happy, while being still rather shaken, and then went back to sleep until I woke up again, feeling normal, so I went to sleep in my own bed again. Dawn was breaking. I dunno if I’ve managed to convey the absolute fucking terror that i felt throughout the whole experience or not, but it was probably the scaredest that I have ever been. To be so completely out of control – the fact is that all I had taken was a little pot, which I had expected to just make me able to laugh at the Brady Bunch movie – to go from there to fearing that my friends were trying to fuck me up, and that the walls were melting, adn that I would be in a permanent state of fuckedupness, like my body had been infected with a computer virus like Pig in The Ecstasy Club, to be afraid to call Tom in case he made me feel crazier when I’m so used to calling him so he can talk me down from drunken misery styles – it was FUCKED UP. And I’m not going to be doing drugs again. I’m so fucking glad Bo was there – I have no idea what I would have done otherwise. Today I went and bought her assorted Cranberry paraphanalia (cran & blueberry juice, craisins and cranberry cracker sauce) but that’s just sheer tokenism. I still feel pretty fucking shakey though, and I’m so fucking tired of being damaged.

    Comment » | Journal

    4 October, 2002

    October 4th, 2002 — 3:58pm

    So, while I’m drunk enough and also happy enough, I might give you a brief heads up. I’m really tempted to not to though, because oh for fucks sake, can people misunderstand me just a little bit more? Am I really that obtuse? I’m considering shutting down Hubris once and for all. I thought I was clearer and easier to understand on paper, but apparently not. It just really fucking bugs me, eh.

    BUT! Here’s another list:

  • If you search for “Wellington Gay Drum’n'Bass Massive” on Google, my site will appear second. This explains some things.
  • You won’t remember this, unless you were in my class with me, but when we were in Second Year, we always used to use the computers in the Journo room for our assignments, except sometimes this horrible 3rd year Journo student used to lord it up over us and kick us out really bitchilly. Guess who got Terri’s job at work – you know, the one I applied for, for the role I have to work with every day that I’m in the office. Oh yes. 
     <!-- and she's even more annoying in person in real life. the next two months are gonna be HELL -->

  • I wish I could write little semi invisible comments all over other people’s sites. This goes for a whole universe of people
  • My computer has decided that it won’t connect to the Internet unless I have hooked it up to Bo’s computer first, despite the fact that this is my dialup machine. Hi, anyone wanna do a reinstall for me?
  • Diet Coke with a lemon twist tastes really nasty and rancid, because the lemon makes it smell like industrial cleaner. Other than that, I think I can pretty much make the switch to diet coke – the regular kind, that is. If I crave Vanilla Coke, I can just add vanilla essence.
  • I thought for a while that maybe I fucked up really badly, and that’s why we weren’t friends any more, but it’s really you that has no concept of friendship and loyalty and stamina, isn’t it? One strike and you’re out.
  • Actually, I’d been seriously thinking of putting in to place a “three strikes and I give up” policy on people who don’t return texts or emails or phonecalls. I make allowances for people on prepay though, and people who I know who are really busy. But actually, that’s really lame isn’t it? I might just revert to being introverted instead.
  • Today was Terri’s last day, and so we drank bubbly in the sun in the Domain at lunchtime and proceeded to the pub just after 4pm, while I was still dazed (my job has been officially acknowledged to be “Sit and Look Pretty” after I reported back in a team meeting that really, that’s all I’d done all week and everyone just laughed and said well, it’s a hard job to do) and I just got home just a little bit ago, sometime around 10.30, and there was a photo of a nekkid snow-woman in my letterbox, and I was SO confused cos there was no return address on the envelope, and then I figured it out – thanks Cous – hope you enjoy the zine. The pub was great, especially when strange boys from Warkworth bought me drinks, maybe in an effort to redeem my opinion of their town but probably not. But hey, free liquor is free liquor. Doesn’t mean that it’ll win my heart over when it comes to the new girl in our office though.
  • Some of the people in my Faculty are actually really cool, but FUCK I will miss Terri. She said I was a sweetheart and had been really good to work with when I left. Bridget and her both cried a lot. So did Gayle.
  • OOS is back with a vengence along with the big capital D and all that other fun stuff. Oh, new this time round – smell-induced panic attacks. Choice.
  • I’ve managed to come to grips and terms and stuff a little bit, and I’ve decided to drop my PR Practice paper, because it was that or fail all my papers, and that’s the one I’m already credited for.
  • I am trying to take better care of myself. I am trying to take better care of myself. I am trying to take better care of myself. I am trying to take better care of myself. I am trying to take better care of myself.
  • Inspired by insomnia and also a little bit of a “grrr!” feeling caused by people over-rating themselves, one morning around 3am, I sat down and wrote a list of all the people that I have had crushes on in the past five years. There were four boys named Daniel. There were three boys named Mike. There were boys and girls. There were people I’d scored. There were various Internet layabouts. There were over 50 people on the list, some who would freak out if I told them that I had a crush on them, and many who wouldn’t. That included a grand total of one person that I’ve been in love with, who left me, and one person who I fell for, who thought that I was good enough for a fling but not a relationship. And a whole bunch’o other flavour’o the week or night or hour people.
  • Actually, maybe I would be able to get away with my own brand of being totally straight up if I was skinny and pretty.
  • Actually, I’m fucking cold.
  • Actually, I think Bo really is a crack whore, and we ACTUALLY use the word ‘actually’ far too often.
  • We went on a crazyass hypo mission last night to Briscoes. Consequently – I HAVE NEW BED LINEN! YAAAAAAAY! She claims that bed linen will be the downfall of the Western Society. I like the way she thinks.
  • Love and respect and thoughts out to LP. <!– i hate that bad things happen to the best people –>

    • Comment » | Journal

         

    ↑ Back to top