...but I'm not wearing any pants?!

Recently (i.e. Sunday), I found myself caught between two choices which, at the time, seemed incredibly important and life-changing. Twenty minutes before this, I had ordered Nandos, and the delivery man had just phoned me to say that he was downstairs. This seems very normal, I'm sure, and usually it would be; except for the fact that I wasn't wearing any pants. I won't go into the reason for this, but shall instead swiftly switch the focus to my dilemma: I could put on pants, go downstairs in agony (we'll get to that) and retrieve the food of the Gods; OR stay upstairs in comfort and warmth, but go hungry - the delivery guy would get the hint eventually. A third option was presented to me today on Facebook - I could have gone downstairs without pants. I do have plans on getting arrested at some point in my life (it's on my bucket list), but I don't want it to be for indecent exposure - I feel like I can aim higher. I feel like that was an unintentional double entendre. Oh well, I won't tell if you don't.

I have found myself in many a similar situation over the years - the dileemma-thing, not the indecent exposure-thing. One such one was just the other day after doing laundry: I could fold my clothes, put them away and languish in a tidy bedroom. But then I started thinking (a dangerous endeavor - don't try this at home, kids), why should I give them the satisfaction? They don't own me!!! In fact, I OWN THEM! Yes, yes I do. And so this is how the clothes-shuffle came about. When I need to sleep, the clothes go on the floor. When I need to walk across the floor, the clothes go on the bed. Except that things got confused and I once slept on a pile of clothes - did you know that it actually incredibly comfortable? Although, I suppose anything would be in comparison to res-provided beds and mattresses...

Oh, and re: the agony mentioned above; I went gone to gym EVERY DAY last week. Impressive, no? My thighs hurt.

Here's the expected video accompaniment to this post!:) This might seem random to everyone except to Jess, Adelle, Karen and a few other peeps from Camp Jaycee - here are our videos from America. I couldn't post them on Facebook because apparently my right to post vids has been blocked due to posting copy-righted material. I don't know why. Must have been the Rebecca Black vid. And the Lonely Island Stuff. And all the other stuff.

Okay, first up - our drunken, personal version of the hit of that summer. Yes, I know it's upside down, but I think the 'drunken' pretty much explains that:

Next is Karen's trauma and Jurjen's method of comfort:

And then we have some dancing:

Aaaaand some presenting of the Grand Canyon by Karen...

Lastly, breaking it down in SanFran:

Enjoy your week kids!

The Depression vacation - Seratonin has never looked so good...

Why am I depressed? I don't know. And I swear to god, if you ask me if it's my "time of the month", I may just have to retire my moral standing on violence. I'll blame it on the depression.

I do know, however, that sometimes it's hard to know how to react when someone you know has  depression. Scenes like that can be illustrated by picturing the expression of the face of a man-beast presented with a crying woman/child. At least, that's always how I imagine it.

It wasn't clear, at first that there was a problem. I can't remember how it started; but I do remember the first time I realised something was wrong. I woke up one day and realised that, through a process of various excuses and good use of procrastination techniques, I had managed to miss an entire week of lectures and tuts. I can't even remember what I did that week. 

Depression is a strange beast. The symptoms are so contrary that it can be excused as something else entirely - if you eat too much, or too little; if you sleep more than usual but wake up feeling tired, or suffer from insomnia; feeling fidgety/can't sit still, or else you move at a slower pace than usual. 

In my case, it's all the first ones, besides the last - fidgety, I am not. Once you know what the problem is, it is easier to deal with. I was ecstatic at the thought that the wet wool blanket constantly dragging me down wasn't just laziness. That the antisocial preference for the sticking my nose in a book, never to emerge; rather than the family friends over for dinner, wasn't the beginnings of agoraphobia. That I didn't have to worry as much about the conflicting feelings of the enjoyment of doing work for subjects such as Mandarin versus the tendency to mope around hating all the deadlines piling up around me like a cracked dam wall.

There was a huge sense of relief that took all the pressure off - it wasn't just me! This is all Seratonin's fault! Huzzah for antidepressants that made me feel like my organs were rattle-shaped and  in the hands of a very enthusiastic baby; but more importantly - that made me feel excited about things towards which I had previously only felt apathy.

There are two things I learnt very quickly, however:

1. Medication can only do so much
2. Food can only do so much 

I haven't really paid much attention to no. 2 though - I'm pretty sure I should now be a major stockholder in Nandos, Lays, Coca-Cola and any company that is selling chocolate products.

My social life is still a mess. I'm sorting out my university work, although it feels a lot like chasing dropped R200 note flailing around in the wind evading capture. My res room is STILL a mess, complete with unpacked boxes, an unmade bed, unknown amounts of takeaway-container debris, shoes and clothes. I still feel like a failure 5 days out of 7 - and the other two days are kinda hazy so I'm not too sure about those. I still feel the need to sleep until 10 (13:00 is my record). I still eat enough to feed a large, over-populated country. I still fall into slumps where I feel hopeless and resigned. I still cling to ridiculously stupid things that only serve to clutter up my life and my room. I still berate my traitorous body and mind for being so weak - for not fighting harder. I still don't know how to fix all the damage I've done to my life and those in it.

Every now and then, I wake up and the sky is overcast; everyone I meet coming down the stairs is hungover; Jacob Zuma did something dumb and the dininghall has run out of Bovril. Sometimes these are the days when I'll wake up feeling like I just had a vitamin B injected into my butt. These are the days where I do all my assignments in a couple of hours. The days when I wake up at 8am feeling refreshed. The days I love everything about myself. The days when I can sit on my window sill and stare at the view for hours in awe of the sky. Whatever the cause, these are the days that save me.

Because I sound like I swallowed five self-help books, I'm going to end off with a link to someone who expressed her depression in a far more satisfying way:
Hyperbole and a Half - Adventures in depression

A quick note (30/09/2012):
I'm far from being an expert - medical or otherwise - on depression; but I do know what it feels like, obviously. If you or a friend are going through this too, feel free to comment below, I'm really interested to know how others handle it...

The Top 5 WORST things to say to someone with Depression

5. You know, they have pills for that now...
4. I have a friend with depression so I know exactly how you feel!
3. Stop making excuses
2. You have depression? Just try get over it/Lighten up/Get a grip/Well, everyone gets depressed at some point.
1. What do you have to be depressed about?

Just don't say it.

"Bronchitis is fun" said no one. Ever.

YEEHAH, I am now nurturing bacteria in my lungs - organs that, due to a lifelong affiliation with asthma, were never too strong to begin with. Now, I'm not normally a pessimistic person (HAH!), but when I'm sick, all I want to do is curl up in my pjs with the furry wall (see image below) and about five tons of junk food. Now, logic dictates that to get better, lots of vitamins and fluids are necessary for, well, stuff. But I'll take a bag of light-green Lays and an order of chicken strips and spicy rice (lemon and herb - yes, I'm a wuss) courtesy of one Nandos, Grahamstown.

So essentially, while my body tries valiantly to cough up my last remaining lung, I attempt to poison it with sweet, sugary goodness. If I'm going to die, it might as well be while munching on a slab of Lindt's Creme Brulee milk chocolate. And one lone naartjie. I love naartjies - they're pretty much one of the only fruits I will deign to allow entry into my sacred temple.

Another reason for why I'm so much more cavalier about all the rubbish I eat is that I've recently acquired a personal trainer. As one does. I was actually worried about what he would be like, but as it turns out, we're quite a good match. He pushes me, but without getting to the point where I wish the treadmill would actually start moving and run him over. Although when he found out that I used to be a sprinter in high school, there was this gleam in his eye that's been there ever since. Considering he's the head coach for the University's track and field section of the athletics club, I'm somehow not surprised. I now know what Hansel felt like when he was snacking on witchy junk food and shoving chicken bones through the bars.

I could write more, but my attention span is slipping rapidly. Just a quick note - I started this post  a while ago and so I still have to get to my mom's wedding and other news. Knowing my propensity for lazy posting, I wouldn't hold my breathe. Unless you're an Olympic swimmer or professional breathe-holder. Then go for it






  

My Obituary

Okay, so before I just post my obituary all willynilly, I suppose I should explain. Especially seeing as I'm still alive. I hope. Touch wood.

Anyway, for a journalism assignment we had to write an obituary for our partner, and as weird as this may be, I really liked mine. So, without further ado, my obituary dear readers!

Second Year B Journ student at Rhodes University, Kelly, died this week at the age of 21.With her lower lip piercing, genuinely friendly smile and her brown hair, Kelly fit in with the low key lifestyle Grahamstown had to offer.

Muller was born in Pietermaritzburg and grew up in Bedfordview in Johannesburg, where she finished high school at St Andrew’s School for Girls in 2009.  She lived with her mother and her soon to be step-father. She was an only child between her parents however she did have two older step brothers and a younger half-sister.

During her time in Grahamstown she was a voice over artist for audio books at the South African Library for the blind. Kelly was studying Journalism and Media Studies, Chinese, Sound Technology and Art History had had plans to major in Chinese and Journalism and Media Studies. She had hoped to further her career through Chinese as a translator or through Journalism and Media studies, a subject she had hoped to specialise in TV or Radio.

Although not much of a member of the partying student culture, the self-proclaimed introvert had preferred to be with her small group of friends at someone’s digs, as opposed to hitting Grahamstown’s various student filled pubs and bars. While she seemed fairly reserved, she did voice her opinions out on what seemed to be a rather entertaining blog called kellywellyjellybelly on blogger.com. 

Gone too soon, she had been able to travel all over the world, and had grown comfortable in herself. She surely will be sorely missed by those who knew her.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, my death somehow involved bananas. Bloody bananas, I knew I hated them for a reason...

Beam me up, Captain America

Chris Evans in tights YET again! Bigger than ever before - what a gift to the big screen. Okay, both of the movies were really good; actually they were BRILLIANT. I watched the Avengers with a friend a couple of weeks ago and it was hilarious. The scene with the Hulk flinging Loki around was great, I got the giggles for ages - I still laugh every time I think about it.

I also watched Captain America the other day, although I probably should have watched them the other way around. I actually got pretty emotional towards the end (SPOILER ALERT) and I even cried when he's flying the plane into the ground; and yet AGAIN at the end. "I had a date." DEAR GOD, I just wailed - it was ridiculous. I'm pretty sure my neighbour thinks I'm a complete freak. Just an FYI, I never cry - except in the Lion King; but honestly,if you don't cry when Mufasa dies? You have no soul.

After the two movies, I was still in Chris-Evans-fever mode and also bored. What does one do when bored? Why one goes onto sites such as Youtube, of course! Well, then I howled for a different reason altogether - in one interview Chris Evans and Hemsworth are waiting for it to start while this woman is giving her little intro speech; and what does she say to get them started?

"Hi, I'm Carly Steel for Epix news and it's a battle of the biceps as Chris Evans and Chris Hemsworth reprise their roles as Captain America and Thor in The Avengers. Has there been anything you would like to avenge in your real life?
Evans: I got dumped at my senior prom." 

Um, I'm sorry what? Before we get into the fact that whoever broke up with Chris Evans probably regrets that decision just a tad; can we go back that neat little phrase. Battle of the biceps? Really? Please do yourselves a favour and watch the expression on their faces when she says it, Hemsworth literally facepalms:

It was great though, they did a great job in pairing those two together, they're both funny and they have a good dynamic going on. Even when it came out that Hemsworth had been on Australia's Dancing with the Stars (and didn't that just set off the howls of laughter again - my neighbour might not be living next to me anymore), Evans was just like, "Actually that wasn't too bad." Far too nice, that blue satin shirt alone is enough ammo for AT LEAST a good few months.

What a great bunch of people those Avengers actors are; that must have been an awesome film to work on. I'm not just saying that because of the aforementioned biceps either - although those make things quite nice and easy on the eye. I do prefer Chris Evans in Fantastic Four though; the rangier build and short, dark hair suit him better. So basically the looks of Fantastic Four, but still as Captain America. Yes, I KNOW it wouldn't work, but it's MY dream - bugger off. Chris Evans, if by some slim chance you read this, don't hate to much on this glorious author's ridiculous ramblings - you've got the muscle, prepare to be ogled. Ah yes, sexism at its most hypocritical - love it! And on that note, I give you Chris Evans' soft side; one that loves jelly beans and the Goonies. Oh, and did you know he's a Buddhist? Interesting...

I try really hard to be cool. Emphasis on the 'try'

Okay, so along with the hipster influence virus (yes, I do realise that spells HIV - how naughty of me) going around these days, I'm feeling way too much pressure. Peer pressure - the social STD. All the faux *cough lenseless* ray bans, the expensive, strategically torn jeans and the too large tank tops showing off that little hint of bra. Okay, I'm sounding spiteful, that's just my jealousy talking - all I wanna do is be one of the cool kids.

I'm not fashionable though - at best I'm a copy-cat. I like to think it's because I'm too much of an Everyman. Quick aside: If you don't know to what I'm referring when I say 'Everyman', go get some culture you heathen beast. <---see peer pressure, I just gotcha!

Getting back on track though. I feel like I have to try hard to be cool. And random. It honestly doesn't come naturally - I bet you didn't know that one. Being completely random in an ironic yet funny way is really hard, and I do try, but it's just sooooo much work damnit. The self-deprecating though, now that's a big ball of fun.

See...Even in this blog post, all I've done is be random about being random to get your attention and make you like me. Dear God please like me. You know all I want is your approval. And a couple hundred Facebook likes. And money. Actually, just money - you can just give me lots of money.

I was going to go about the attention-seeking another way though. I used to daydream about being an actress. I even took Drama to Matric. Then I realised how much effort it takes to be a 'Thespian' rather than merely just an uncultured fool in tights on a stage. I got over the effort. Definitely did not get over being the centre (okay FINE, slightly off-off centre) of attention.

I also got over the admin of sticking - and excelling in - one sport or hobby. In my long illustrious life, I have participated in no less than 50. This includes (but is not restricted to) hockey, diving, gymnastics, ballet, tapdancing, kickboxing, athletics, chess (dear GOD I was bad at that) art (now THAT I kick ass at) and many many more.

These days, I just give in and realise that my talents lie elsewhere. Namely watching my flavour-of-the-week series, eat constantly student-style (i.e. lots of fat, carbs and general crap), pick up some uni work, put it down again, and finally after a long internal debate ending in a resounding "Screw it" - order Nandos.

So basically I've just wasted 10 minutes (depending on your reading speed - you should really work on that) of your life that you will NEVER get back telling you that I'm uncool, unmotivated, uncomplicated, undedicated (I just made that a word, shut up) and lazy. Whatta day for revelations. You must be so proud Mom.

Love and peace my oh-so-(sometimes)-faithful peeps.
Comment on this post or die. I've been watching horrors this month so I have new torture techniques!
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