Archive for category Pictures/badly drawn stuff

Hello my name is Mrs MoanyPants and I…

Met a Psychic in A&E!!

She was a bit of a rubbish psychic though, who asked a rude question and made some close-to-the-truth guesses  predictions. It was strange…and, unfortunately there are no other interesting stories of A&E, it was just I lost the ability to walk in town, had no wheelchair, everyone was busy.. sitting in town for 5 hours on my own, unable to move and in pain was not an option so a a non-emergency paramedic took me too sit in a ‘safe place’ until I was collected. Felt as if I needed some sort of badge with ‘Lost Property’ on it. It was not that bad, but I was a bit doolally with the pain & exhaustion so it was all a bit of a blur, aside from the Psychic. I got home, made yesterdays post, and attempted to sleep. Thrilling.

I was all ‘Yay, I will post all the most intresting stuff today ever and be loved, adored and feel clever and a bit more like the writer I want to be’

And…No. Because I am MrsMoanyPants today. Chronic pain is shit. Depression is shit. My hair is shit.

Instead….I wanted to post a useful link for any other miserables. CBT can be pretty magic for pain/depression/whatever. On this site it is free. And there is a man with a soothing voice..that sold it for me really! Self help is a good thing, so I like sites like this.

CBT and a soothing voice (Living Life To The Full)

In other news..

I have a new favorite artist. She is called Katheryn Harvey (I just made boy go squint at the name on the painting on the wall, bless him, he then had to spell it to me about five times…*cough*)

We have ‘Harry’ on our wall & what with being placed on the sofa this morning & being unable to get off it..I have be admiring it. It makes me smile.

Beautiful, isn’t he! More can be found.. Kathryn Harvey. About three years ago she had a small stall on the beach in Aberystwyth..and I saw Harry in my student days, it was love at first sight. I knew my Mum would love him too, so a few years later Kathryn had a shop next to the beach, and I bullied my siblings into going shares on the price as a present for mum.

I have been staring at ‘Reg’ all day and when I Have A Proper Life I will have him.

There..from A&E, to CBT, to Rabbit Paintings. You can tell I just started writing, eh?

 

 

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My name is Alexishere and I am a Wrapping Paper Addict

wow.

I am imagining my poor neglected blog hudled in a corner – looking up at me with BPD style ‘HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME?!’ eyes. I am accused. I am guilty.

I went mad. That does not usually stop me wiritng but it did this time. I think I feel uninteresting. My life drips along. Things happen. I knit. I sit. I stare. I smoke. That is it. But…post-going-mad-and-ending-up-stroking-owls-in-a-psych-hopsital (there really were real life owls) I realised I missed my silly little blog, so I have come back, tail between my legs and rattling with good intentions to Post Every Day. (It won’t happen, but they say it is the thought that counts, right? Does that gets out clause of life work in this situation too?)

This little one was my favorite. There was also a classic ‘Harry Potter Owl’ (obvs a better, more understandable nickname than the actual name-of-breed which I seem to have forgotten) and a massive Eagle Owl. So that was fun..not that I would put myself in hospital just to poke an owl, but it was an added bonus. I also got to make stuff from clay (a very wobbly 5-years-olds-can-do-better filter tip pot).

Where was I going with this?

Ah. yes. I have ultimately decided it is okay to Blog even if I do feel as If my life lacks achievment, worth, and anything remotely interesting…mostly because I feel all that is a Naughty Lie told my Depression Head and causes me to isolate myself more until things get to the pre-hospital stage where I am incapable of talking/moving/thinking because everything just feels so fucking worthless.

Not my hands. Although I am wearing very similar nail varnish.

I am still doing all the crafty things. Phone cases still being my specialism. I still think it is one of the best ‘recovery tools’ I have stumbled across, it keeps my hands busy (important as I am a terrible skin picker, and when anxious I get crazy hand tics that only serve to make me look more crazy which = people staring which = more axiety. An evil spiral. So I have been known to knit while walking..really.) I have also disocvered card making, which I enjoy because it swallows up whole chunks of day in one big crafty lump..but I do not yet feel my efforts are worhty of blog photos. but, when I can afford it (emblellishments are an expensive little habbit) I endevour to become amazing so I can show off my skills to Blog Land. Yeah! Bet you are so damn excited now too. *rolls eyes*

Anyway, I recently made my friend a phone case..I learnt how to knit with alternating colours, and bought a big mutli packet of buttons..the two sort of got lumped together in my glee of having new things to play with. This is the result:

this is my most recent one, for a friend. I know the buttons are sort of wonky. I was having a minor (major) panic attack and button-sewing as distraction. Am hoping she will think it looks ‘quirky and handmade’ rather than ‘shit’. If you know me IRL..or sort of IRL..like..Good Place Friends (you know how you are) feel free to give me and order for colours/style/dimensions and I will happily knit you a case and send it your way. As the people who I keep ringing to buy houses from keep reminding me, it is not like I have a job!

Yes. I am house shopping. Although, I am still a bit disillusioned to find it is so much more stressful than nipping to Tesco’s for doughnuts. It IS a Good Exciting Positive Thing..but it also makes e want to tear my hair out. I have lived in many places…I think i have moved about 7 times since fleeing my parents abode at 17, but they were all tempoary places to sleep at, not really Houses To Live In so it did not matter that they were mouldy shitholes. Now it does and i feel far too grown up for my liking.

We are also looking to buy our own furniture. Buy it! Which also feels Old And Wise as i have always, always managed to find furnished housing that the past. The idea of a blank slate appeals though, partly because I can choose the ugly furniture rather than having it forced on me, and because the metaphor is a nice one. I feel like I am nesting. Me, the Boy and the cat we are going to re-home (even if boy is not yet aware of this.) So, furniture is expensive, everyone knows that..but this is the first time I have even internet-window-shopped for things like shelves. I found an amazing second hand recycled furniture place, that sells perfectly good ‘preloved’ stuff very cheaply. Am literally itching to go there. Asdie from craft shops I can’t really think of a more appealing day trip. (and I do realize that says far more about me than it should!)

On the notes of ‘objects that tell you too much about my personality’ I also seem to have developed an object-crush on wrapping paper.

Seriously. As well as constantly Googling Houses, Stuff to put in house, Stuff to put in house that I will never ever afford, ever and doughnuts I am also addicted to posh fancy wrapping paper. I love it. Possibly more than the thrill of wondering what is inside. I need to send a gift soon & I begun the supposedly simple task of shopping for some gift wrap (online of course, the internet is the social phobics bestest friend) and, I can’t do it. I can’t buy any because I simply want ALL of it. I tried to choose some last night (aka 4 am this morning >.<) and my ‘basket’ came to a total of £20. *jaw drop* I am very worried a similar thing will occur when I actually arrive at shop for house things. Every room will be burting with chairs. There will be nothing by chairs and sofa’s.

Easter. That happened too. I dislike the huuuuge amount of Eating-Diosrder panic that ensues when chocolate is around..but, I did get to wear my bunny ears (which I will happily admit, I have worn in public more than once, and to sevral seminars during my undergrad degree).

Despite apperances I am not actually posing in that photo! I was watching the dog and had no idea that Boy has stolen my camera!

I have run out of words. Which is probably a good thing. But i will be back, hopefully a lot sooner than the last time.

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:) Cuddle, my boys <3

I was making tea for me and Boy and wondered into the front room to find them like this:

They are both so beautiful. He loves that dog and dog loves him.

At the moment every time I look at Boy I feel sad because soon he is going to be fighting, far away from me. But, I know this will pass and I need to spend our time together in the best way possible.

Today will be a happy day, the above photo is testament to that. ❤

 

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Polo musings.

 

Do you remeber that Polo-high? From school, when you’d eat a packet or two of polos and spend the afternoon in graphics flicking rubbers off a non-shatterable ruler, which does actually shatter – and later, the polo come down..and the reminder that is has a laxative effect?

 

Well. It seems that there is a polo-to-age ratio.

It only seems to take half a packet to cause that effect in me..and the come down is faster and worse.

And why, oh why did they take lovely minty treats and make them into nasty fruits O’s? Ick.

I think polo’s are a product of the vending-machine generation. In fact, maybe they caused the vending machine generation. They were the only sweets cheap enough to afford after you had searched your blazer pockets and rooted out the rubbers, the leaky pens and the notes that you had been writing to a friend when you should have been learning algebraic equations.

I wish the spearmint polo’s were still as easily available as the orginal…now, those were just epic. They deserved a cape and a wand. Give me a packet of sperming polo’s and I could turn any boring, depressing Monday lunch time into fun with a capital F.

Wow. I can’t believe I actually wrote that sentence, that is lame.

I need a sign: ‘under influence of polo’s’…

 

 

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A bad picture.

Here is a very badly drawn MsPaint jobby I did in an attempt to explain mental illness.

There is sunshine and balloons. I feel horrible I should be happt. There are good thing but all I am feel is the chains of this..this whatever it is, bad feeling. Chained to the good things too but I can’t appreciate them for the worry, the sadness and the sheer terror I experience sometimes. I know I am not alone. In case you were wondering, this is a bit like what mental illness can be like.

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Flowers, sewing, teapots – is this me?

Well, Valentines day has been and gone, but I failed to make the obligatory ‘He loves me’ Blog post…so I thought I’d givee you a break down of the day in photos…

The Wonderful Fiance did his shopping with Interflora. I was putting war-paint on my face when the door bell went (by door bell I of course mean BigDog barking…) and I looked out the upstairs window to see an unknown yellow car in our driveway.

The following things went through my head –

The Bad Robbers have a yellow car?!

A man with a yellow car has come to kill us with a knife?!

Bananas in Pajamas are making a guest appearance?!!!

Super Ted?!

Bad Robbers, Bad Robbers, Bad Robbers, Bad Robbers?!!!

So due to my mental ineffectiveness which causes me to constantly jump to the totally wrong conclusion is every situation it took me a while to answer the door.

When I did get to it the interfloara man was shivering slighly and I can only sepculate that this is what caused him to look at my lumps-of-foundation-not-yet-smooshed-in on my face and contort his feautures into an expression that could only have meant:

‘Someone is giving YOU flowers?!!..and a Balloon..and Chocolates??!!!’

But he passed them over nonetheless and I proceed to dance around the front froom in joy. Not only was I not being attacked by Bad Robbers I also had a balloon!!! (oh, and really lovely flowers and chocolates..)

I gave The Finace a new coat a few weeks before Valentines…his old one was akin to him wearing a tiny square of my knitting to try and keep warm..so he was happy & surprised when I gave him some stupidly cheap Army toys to keep him entertined while I chased a balloon around the room…

Look at his smile!

Bless him.

That was a good day..and I am happy to report the flowers are still alive and in a vase. The balloon is hidden behind a curtian where it will not terrifying BigDog every time he comes into the room (Wuss) and the army men toys are blancing on the top of the TV Boy uses for his Xbox so they can join in when he kills stuff with pretend guns…My mum did tell me she walked in on him talking to them t’other day though, double bless.

Yesterday was a good day too, whivh is why I have cohsen to replicate it here.

Some uninformed and discriminatory people think that those who are on long term sick and unemployed just spend all day doing exactly as they please….

ONSIE and sewing...

and i’d like to say we do…

although here is the point where I feel obliged to point out that both Helen and Boy have jobs, they just also have days off..and anyone who gets me to sew and also puts up with my exhausting mood-swings, upsets, moaning, isolating, clinging, fighting, and manicness deserves some kid of award. A picture tells 1,000 words..but the situation calls for 10,000..or something..

But lovely days, lovely photos.

It makes me laugh that when I was an angst ridden 14yr old teenager I’d have hated the idea of sewing and knitting..and being proud of engaging in such activities would have made me seethe. The teapot, however, has always been a source of my affections..

That’s it for this post, unless I can think of a witty and entertaining ending…

No, I can’t.

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Not made for Interviews..

When I started this I promised myself (crossed my fingers, toes, arms, ankles and eyes) that I would not just neglect this Blog when my mood took a dip and I became obsessive about something that was not Blogging..

Scary baby - does crossing your eyes cause face pain? Maybe i'm just odd..

 

For days I have been like,

‘What Blog? I have no Blog!’

and then I saw my friends new amusing post with amazing illsutration and was overcome with Bloggers Jealously.

It may now just happen that I rely on above friend for any inspiration to Blog but I promise I shall try harder. (Story of my life, my school reports always said ‘Alexishereidrawlikenick has potential but Must Try Harder)

So, here I am admitting to being an Inspiration Thieving Copy Cat..

Pahahahaha

(Part of me did write the above as I previously viewed the copycat image and needed an excuse to post it. Thanks Char -toothy smile-)

M’kay – onto the actual content of this post.

I have an interview on Wednesday *insert dooms-day muzic*

It is for my much-talked about Masters, it is for Creative Writing. I write stories, I write poems, I write a terrible Blog with coupious grammatical mistakes. I do not do interviews. The boyfriend kindly tells me that my ‘creative personality’ means that I am not good in those one-on-one situations. But he means people. And that I am a loonely.

It is a tad like the clip below, only I may well get out a guitar and use offensive language…

 

A List Of Things I do During Interviews 

1) I twitch. Endlessly. A bit like a Durcell Bunny that is on it’s last three seconds of life. I can’t control the twitch, it is a nervous disorder but it looks a lot as if I am just very cold. It maes people twiddle with the heating until we re all sweating profussely and I am still damn twitching and shivering…uncomfortable for all and I may as well wear a sign proclaiming my lack of mental health.

2) I am the sort of person who cannot get my fringe straight. I worry about it making me look stupid, so I fiddle…and fiddle and fiddle. I do not even know I am doing with it but it does not convey an air of confidence…it also makes me look like I am apperance obsessed, when really I’d happily leave the house in a big ban if only my hair would be straight.

I have many iteams with the Edward Monkton design on as testament to my fringe-woes..

3) When I get nervous I speak really fast. Reallyfastsononoecanunderstand. For someone who is enthused by language this is not a Masters-winning skill…

4) The more important the person is, the higher the authority the less I am able to listen and the more easily distracte……LOOK A RABBIT!

The Boyfriend grabs my hand when we cross roads – and not because he loves me so much he always wants to ber romantic and hold on to me…

5) I am likely to forget my name, age and any interests and, if pushed on this topics I may cry and/or burst into flames…

In summary – I am very glad they wanted a portfolio of words what I wroted as well as seeing me in actual person. I am hoping the will have already decided my writing skill is oh so amazing that it does not matter than I am totoally unable to sit still and reply to any interview questions..

 

 

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