22nd November

 Busy weekend, one thing and another, MOT, fixing the car, nephew visited, tried to get out for afternoon tea ( failed ).

Didn't feel horrendous. Sunday was harder, very very slow and shitty start. But eh.

I seem to be on the up. Haven't felt too bad today. Dizziness has receded to the faintest of swimminess. Nausea is down, only rarely ghosting by.

Weird. Isn't it.

Up and down and up and down and up and down.

I try to keep it on the down low, but it does sometimes make my brain spin, what's the pattern, what did I eat, what did I do, what time is it, how did I sleep, did I have a cold, did I have an ear infection, hows my ass, hows my head, hows my mood.

And on.

I tend to snip it off.

And breathe. It's fucked. Be zen with it "being fucked". Easy to say when I feel a bit better. Impossible to live with when its bad.

Eh well.

I think I need an endless supply of Cool Movies and Shit on TV / A Screen to watch for and or peaceful bed when I am feeling like shit. And a whole bunch of noodling crafty stuff and pottering around bits for when I am feeling better. Everything else... eh.. no.

Work is work. Today was a non event. Perhaps it's my imagination but Andy is treating me different. And more and more I just get the whole employee thing. I don't belong anymore. Just another bit of work to do. Move on. It definitely greases the wheels of the whole, ok, we're going to quit. There is. Somewhere deep and fairly quiet, the passing thought that I am utterly taken for granted. The golden cash cow. There is a lack of... reciprocity there. Eh well. It is what it is. People are gonna people. It takes an unusual person not to be a dick about money.

Spoke with a friend late last night. Something I really need to be super careful about. Late nights are an absolute killer for me.

She said that sadly, I would not die in surgery and that I would wake up. She named the anaesthetic they use and said it was almost impossible to die from it. Unless you were Michael Jackson.

Uh huh.

You're going to be disappointed she said. You're going to wake up.

Ha.

And you will be fine.

Ok.

I've pretty much decided at this point that I am going to ignore the advice of being babysat for 24 hours. I'll get a friend to pick me up and take me home - that will be good ( and inline with hospital recommendations ). But otherwise. Fuck it.

My nephew related they said the same thing to him when he was in hospital. But he ignored them. Got a bus home. Lied about someone waiting for him.

Not sure what that would have been for. I suspect it may have been post suicide attempt release. I didn't push.

My sister has explained what happened when he tried to commit suicide, but swore me to secrecy. Didn't matter much, because my nephew then related the event anyway. Different perspectives though.

Hmm. Ho well.

I sent him home with armfuls of my old miniatures. He wanted to give me something for them, I said I didn't want the money. But he should feel free to sell them if he could get a better price for  them and wanted to buy other miniatures. I did a quick check online when he left. The individual models were going for £20 - £25 a pop. I musta given him.. 100, 150 of them ? Plus a bunch of vehicles. Stupid prices. I have fond memories of some of them. It's slightly bitter sweet. I give them away knowing full well I am not going to use them again ( or at least highly unlikely to ). But. I Spent many years accruing them. Playing with them. A lot of memories. And a very real part of my.... past... who I was... goes out the door when they go.

But, I absolutely 1000% realise I am not going to use them anymore, and the memories are just that, and there is something perverse about just.. playing warehouse keeper to a bunch of old shit.

I think more than anything it digs up complicated emotions about time passing, old friends, changed world, no longer young, the path you've taken and all that shit. It's a stark reminder of the passage of time. It's not. Super.

I am glad to have given them away. To be honest I'd give just about all my stuff away if I could find worthy keepers. Although my house is still stuffed with crap, I am absolutely a minimalist at heart now. The less stuff I have. The better I feel. Excepting tech. Fill my walls with screens and computers and I am happy. Everything else, less so.

End on a positive.

Feeling better. At times, feeling much better. Which gives me a big lift. I am still noodling with all sorts of crafty bits and pieces. My latest wheeze is I am making a wall. Just a plain, boring, wall. Scratch building it. Why ? Two reasons.

1) I realised I super duper love scratch building. And there is a challenge in me to now build really mundane subject matter, but, do a really goddamn good job of it. Like drawing a perfect circle perhaps. Except it's not. I just like taking garbage and converting it into something beautiful. "Beautiful". Artistic.

2) My... great nephew.. is getting into table top war gaming, via his dad, my nephew. They're getting some miniatures for Christmas - so my nephew tells me. So. I'm gonna make them some pretty terrain for their tabletop. This is the best of all worlds for me. I get to noodle and build and be arty. But then give it away and not clutter up the house and live the minimalist dream. And of course it will be great for the pair of them to use. I think - hope - they will be dead chuffed with it. A win all round really.

So. A wall. Or two. At first. I have a very good idea of what's next too. A futuristic kind of oil rig, kind of pump malarkey thinger.

I am enjoying noodling crafting. Enjoying it so much, I am beginning to wonder if I haven't been missing out on feeding certain bits of me for many years. Just work, work, work, then ill, work, ill, work.

Fuck work.

And fuck people taking advantage of me.

Talking of which. I've seen rumbles of an "anti work" movement online. Uh huh. About time. In our modern ever more automated world, "anti work" should become *the* driving force. Freeing up labour via automation, robots, clever factories and all that is supposed to *liberate* us. Not fucking line the pockets of a few billionaire dick heads and promote a work til you drop macho culture. Fucking Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos, meh. Assholes. Honestly. And once upon a time I thought they were alright. No longer. Dickheads that sit on money and piss money up walls in vanity projects deserve no respect. Do something with your money. Be more like Bill Gates. And less of a money hoarding dragon dickhead. Not to mention the character flaws they have.

Ho hum. 

People innit. Give people the opportunity, and it can be not pretty.

Find the lovely people, and hold onto them. Avoid the dickheads.