God Save the Pigs

So last night while most of us were nice and comfy dreaming about the next episode of Coronation Street, and while the night working population of Britain was in process of earning taxable income, pig fucker David Cameron was tormented again. Dave and his private crowd of happy hobbits found themselves in a position to make wise choices for the greater good (again!) and spread joy to the world by lighting up the Middle Eastern sky with...

... with...

... JOLLY GOOD FIREWORKS!!!!!!!!!!!

You know that feeling when a certain type of people rush to put up firework displays three days before New Year's Eve, right? Well Merry Fucking Eve of the Eve of the Eve of New Year's Eve.

I'm normally apolitical, but right now I feel like having something close to an opinion.

And that is:

Bit impulsive maybe?

Clumsiness of the day (3)

Tonight began with the usual work routine in a healthcare setting. Everyone was really quiet so I thought it would be nice to replace the water jugs in the early morning to help the day shift.

As I entered a lady's bedroom I spilled the entire jug of cold fresh water on her, waking her up in the most brutal way possible and almost giving her a heart attack.

She survived. My faintest hope that I might not be a clumsy idiot, however, didn't.

In my early apprentice days I also caught someone's balls in a slide sheet. But that's probably too much information.

I beat myself with a plastic ladle as penance. I cried.

Depressed

One more listicle about depression and I'm gonna go mad.

Depression is one of the most abused and misunderstood mental health issues on social media, for the simple reason that everyone everywhere claims to have it - the variety of causes includes hormones, PMS, loss, social rejection, parents from the deep depths of hell and, last but not least, the new iPhone. This variety suggests that judging self-diagnosed sufferers could be a slippery slope.

Do they know what depression is? I don't know what depression is. I'm not even sure I have it. Is anyone? My brief encounters with counselling were fruitless to the point where the frustration of throwing money out the window to hear things I already knew was outweighing the benefits of having someone listen to me ramble on about my shit.

It always begins somewhere

I was happy for the first 15-16 years of my life - possibly because I used to be significantly more stupid back then. Then a sort of emptiness began to develop, and has been growing continually - thankfully, my ability to stand up against it has evolved as well, albeit it was a tight competition.

I've always been very determined about everything I want to do in life. I know exactly what I need and lack. I'd continue to live in the joy of ignorance if it weren't for the constant self-scrutiny, overthinking and the obsession with unfairness that I remind myself of everyday. Oh, and the uselessness of humanity and everything around it. Including you and myself.

People

I like to keep busy and that's probably the only good distraction that keeps whatever this emptiness is from taking over. My job is pretty damn awesome for a student job, uni is great, volunteering is also great. I can be god of multitasking and productivity if I'm stimulated enough to put my mind to it. Distraction ultimately leads to ignorance, and ignorance is bliss.

The human brain is the most complex cognitive machinery known to life, the result of millions of years of evolution. You and I are massive, conscious blobs of matter, yet the complexity of our neural networks means we can only ever understand the way our brains work in tiny, tiny steps. We are conscious, yet unable to answer simple questions like what it is and where it came from.

We are one of nature's greatest works of art.

And then there are these people:



Are stupid

Their brain is similar to ours. They eat, sleep and work just like everyone else; some of them can even read. Yet they seem to be more brainless than a dead jellyfish (sorry, jellyfish) floating aimlessly in its own little tank.

Furthermore, the both of you are equal by the laws of the universe on a galactic scale - you are a conscious blob of matter who will inevitably die, decompose, be forgotten and return to the stardust from which it came. Alas, what a noble fate for an idiot :)

The black dog

If I'm never going to get anything close to a meaning in the universe, then at least I could be understood, cared for and loved by someone just as mundane as myself. All of my attempts so far have failed in the most idiotic ways possible. I'm probably not the easiest human to care for, and if I am, it's always the bad timing. People are always too busy finding meaning in life.

I really liked this. I find myself in it quite a bit.

Shit.

Clumsiness of the day (2)

Today I was very excited about some ordinary bits of DNA I was going to analyse using restriction endonucleases and Southern blotting.

The pipetting of DNA and marker into the first five of the six agarose wells was flawless and immaculate. My hands were as steady as the hands of a world class neurosurgeon. The laboratory was filled with my contagious joy.

While filling the last of the six wells I accidentally poked the agarose gel with shocking brutality. The entire experiment had been ruined. The whole of my gel turned blue, and so did my cold broken heart.

I cried in frustration and anger.

Science.   

Clumsiness of the day

Today I was carrying my cup of coffee down the stairs.

I accidentally hit my elbow on the banister, spilled the coffee all over myself and splashed the wall in front of me.

"That is some really good skill", I thought.

I cried.

Top 10 most inappropriate things to say when viewing a house as a potential lodger

1. What time of the day are you usually not home?
2. Do not touch my stuff. Do not move my stuff. If it being in your way would lead to imminent injury or death then simply ask me to move it, otherwise do not touch my stuff.
3. Would it be a problem if my cat shat on your doormat every time your activities interfere with my state of peace and tranquility?
4. My long showers are not to be questioned. I am a highly hydrophilic creature, unless I have to swim in something larger than a bath tub. (I would so drown in a jacuzzi)
5. Something in your vacant expression tells me that your bath tub's IQ isn't very far from yours. Are you related?
6. I prefer adult filters switched off - I'm volunteering to teach sex ed and they're blocking my... well, research websites.
7. I will cut bits of your hair in your sleep.
8. "All-inclusive bills" is not something I like to pay when I'm away for the month. But let there be greed.
9. It's not comfy.
10. This isn't a double room. It's a room with a double bed in it. And look, I can even shit while I shower!

Choose homelessness. Pavements are true, faithful and free.

The internet will turn my brain into an overcooked barbecue

Last week I managed to spend a day off without Facebook, morning til evening, while still using my phone for the odd text and, of course, photo taking excluding selfies. It's been a good start to No Selfie September - less so for No Treats September and No Fucks Given September. Hey ho, there's always next year.

It worried me somewhat to realise that cutting myself off from the psychologically addictive side of the internet would actually make my daily life a lot less functional, and therefore quite miserable.

Out of sight, out of mind - most people I care about would probably find other ways to find out if I'm still alive, but carry on forgetting me anyway if I were no longer part of their daily news feed or contact list. By "forgetting" I mean gradually less interested and motivated to start a conversation or meet up. Also, vital parts of my charity and uni work are discussed on Facebook groups so I could probably kiss that goodbye too. I was born an extravert, yet that would make me more of an introvert than I've forcefully become over the years, which I don't feel would be healthy. Confusing.

I can't help wondering if the author of this fine reflection paper could be the only one who truly understands how my mind works without having ever met me. That's still a brave thing to say for someone who's never understood themselves to begin with. I've been on this planet for a while so really, what in the world am I? :)

There's more than a handful of personality types and expecting to fit a description perfectly is a bit extreme. People are different in a both fascinating and frightening way, and one's personality type usually depends on a sum of general traits that are most specific to them. As for me, I'll always be an IC - the Impulsively Confused :)

I was a very social, talkative kid who literally would not stop blabbering and made friends with everyone; teachers' bitch whenever poems had to be read out loud or a presenter was needed for school events. I wrote and acted in school plays. I loved the attention and lived for it, which is not unusual for children; however, I still feel the need for social acceptance in present and my not so modest ego demands its praise. On the bright side, this has never led to impulsive or self-destructive behaviour. I think...

All the way through secondary school I became very anxious and withdrawn due to bullying and family issues. I've always been unusually sensitive to both positive and negative emotions, which was more overwhelming than ever in my teenage years. I'd be sat in a classroom for hours without speaking a single word to anyone, which continued later on in high school, the most significant and stressful change in my life up to that point.

University and my gap year turned things around again. I deliberately put myself through the social pressure I hated, hoping to overcome the issues I felt were keeping me from being myself again. Looking back at it four years later it seems like everything paid off. What doesn't make any sense is me becoming more and more of a misanthrope with the improvement of my social life.

Personality wise, I now consider myself to be a weird mix of the above. I love getting to know people and spending time with them. I will challenge myself for the sake of winning, possibly knowing I'd regret what I'd have to do to get there (never anything promiscuous as I know where to draw the line; licking toilet seats and downing bottles of spirits are not acceptable). I can be the life and soul of the party and wear my heart on my sleeve...

...but all of it makes me tired after a while. The most draining thing I could possibly experience, though insanely satisfying for the part of me that needs it. I need regular breaks from people and the world. I sometimes feel too mentally worn out to answer the doorbell or write up an email, become unusually self-critical and worry about, well, everything. I've solutions to problems that don't even exist, or solve them long before they appear!

I'm basically the most confusing human being I know. Who loves cats and is falling asleep on her laptop. Sweet dreams, simpletons!

Britain, go back to your own country!

In response to today's headline of the Sunday Times, read briefly and nearly vomited on during my binge shopping sesh in Sainsbury's.

With the ironic exception of being unable to choose the circumstances of our birth (and often death) in this world, human beings aren't equal. To even think about the misery and inequality on Earth is rather sorrowful and burdening (unless you're fairly selfish or a sociopath); however, some parts of the world managed to secure a higher quality of life for their people sooner than others.

While we aren't granted the choice of time, place and family to welcome us into this upside down, inbred (pun intended) sandwich of culture and values we call society, each and every human being should be offered the freedom to better the circumstances they were thrown into by default, provided the means to achieve this are morally acceptable. No one has the right to deny this choice to another human being, or any other choice for that matter.

By extension, within reasonable restrictions, no institution or authority should seek to deprive anyone of this - not even England, in its teeny tiny cloud of delusion and xenophobia raining tabloid headlines over Drowning Street.

Tonight's rant sums up four issues:

1. Freedom of movement and a sense of security in your country of residence are basic human rights.
2. There will always be people with bent moral standards who can and will cheat to get free money. Duh. 

3. Doing a basic amount of research will reveal it's almost impossible to live on any benefits as an EU/overseas national who's lived in the UK for less than five years, isn't disabled and has no children.
4. Given the consequences of a lenient benefit system, who is responsible for the damage - the claimant applying for benefit, or the ones who granted them it?

Britain's "migration problem" roots in the incompetence of those who couldn't identify the scroungers in an endless backlog of applications for financial support, years and years ago. It roots in the incompetence of authorities who issued British passports to people who can't even speak the language (many of whom are native UK citizens).

While it's true the benefit system used to be too generous long before it became a concern, many abusers have easily gone unnoticed until today. Dear Britain, these are neither the Poles, nor the Romanians and Bulgarians or the Pakistani. The benefit scroungers of the most foul sort are your own kin, feasting on precious taxpayer money right under your nose. They are the teenage English mums with infinite clusters of progenies whom they use as meal tickets, and who like to eat £1,000 home cinema tellies from Asda seasoned with the latest gadgets from the budget chain store iBenefit.

The feared "migrant crisis" is a product of our government's own incompetence. Migrants haven't stolen, but earned their jobs - the jobs other people are too lazy, arrogant or stupid to do. They pay hundreds of pounds in tax for the poor English mums to clear the outstanding bills, coz dat flatscreen ain't gonna feed on air.

The foreign job stealers cook our food, mop up our messes, treat our ill, lead our scientific research and look after our elderly. There is no real migrant crisis. There's xenophobia and people fickle enough to swallow everything they read on toilet paper, including the ingrained fallacious assumption that Tories accurately reflect the views of the average Englishman with regard to this matter.

If more of us pulled our heads out of our arses then maybe we'd come to realise that most countries with an open-door policy to migration and cultural diversity, like Germany and Canada, aren't doing too bad. I hear they've not turned the Brandenburg Gate into a mosque yet.

Adventures in the land of Whatnot

I know I've been really bad at finding interesting shit to discuss lately (but was there ever a time when I wasn't?) and I don't blame you for neglecting my random online blabber. Not even I take myself seriously.

I've not been too bad. Had several attempts to leave my old life behind for the sake of fulfillment and it went really well until my new lives became mundane or tarnished again for reasons more or less stupid. I've changed a fair bit myself. I'm a lot of different people, most of whom are reasonably happy at the moment.

Also, my innate ability to drink like a true Russian is slightly worrying me. Sending greetings from my holy mission in the land of cheap booze:

Tornado a.k.a. The Shit, in preparation. Kahlua, rum, vodka, whiskey, absynthe. 

A mission to help orphans that is, and get closer to God by drinking holy spirits - so holy I might have been 40% purified.

Wishing you a very good whatever. Please exqueeze my brevity ;)

Bit of a photo diary

A few good ones from my week in Edinburgh.

Panoramic view of the city taken from Calton Hill

Beach, bitch

Scotland. Where I, according to my family, went to do drugs and get a lot of dick.

Which I am, auntie, as you can very well see in these pics.

Today's top tips on how to be an egocentric bellend (applies to women as well)

Knowing the way I used to see the world until recently, it would have made sense to assume that the higher the exposure to the raw idiotic nature of sub-intellectual humans (also known as chavs in certain parts of the world), the more resistant one would become to it, and ultimately immune.

Wrong.

Stupidity is like radiation. It weakens healthy individuals to the point of insanity depending on the level of exposure, and the damage is almost always irreversible, or manifests itself in bouts of debilitating headaches and draining emotional outbursts. Just like the kind of mental illness that slowly turns its sufferer into a physical and emotional shipwreck.

I'm slowly getting there. I've estimated a few more years, give or take (manageable with no anti-psychotic meds that is - last time I checked I was too stubborn to kill myself because of that but who knows).

People are egocentric bellends but there are a few types I find particularly irritating.

Bellend no. 1

Booo animal testing, fuck science, scientists are cruel, animal testing is wrong, you insensitive beasts!

Three months later...

Oh shit, I have cancer. How many monkeys did you say you need before you can start that very promising clinical trial on humans too? You scientists are geniuses and I expect you to do this one miracle for me, I can provide any number of rabbits and cute kittens you ask for if it helps. Roadkill any good?

Three months later...

I'VE BEEN CURED OF CANCER!

Now can we please leave the entire population of Bucharest get rabies and die to save those cute stray puppies?

Bellend no. 2

Bellend no. 2 is doomed to work a minimum wage job forever because he or she does not possess the intellectual ability to achieve more in his or her life. Bellend no. 2 works in a healthcare setting. Bellend no. 2 doesn't understand the danger of poor infection control and thinks it's okay to leave an infection hazard like soiled sheets on the floor - because taking it straight to the laundry basket is a few steps more hassle.

Bellend no. 2 is a fast and efficient worker when it comes to wiping arses, and refers to other female colleagues in the setting as "that fucking see-you-n-tee".

That is a very nasty word to say out loud here in the UK by the way. Americans got used to it quicker so it's not a big deal now.

I'm weak, in a sense that I can't resist things. One of them is chocolate. The other two are unfairness and incompetence. I stand by my opinion that idiots shouldn't be allowed to get involved in the welfare of living people, nor be put in charge of actions and decisions that may affect someone's life directly. If I work in healthcare and feel like shooting the life out of every single motherfucker in the building, then what would I do in politics?

I'd probably buy a gun and actually do it, or mastermind the world's most cold-blooded mass murder of people who actually deserve to die. The consequences wouldn't be worth it, but at least I'd be remembered. People want to be remembered.

Fuck you bellend no. 2.