Does Anyone Else Do This?

Evening, nosy bastards.

I could think of many words to realistically describe my current mood as I type. First, allow me to set the scene for this blog post. Yes I am doing one. No I am not consistent. No It probably won't be groundbreaking. Yes it is really funny and probably explains my temperament.

In the dull drone of the afternoon, I found myself at the Give Blood centre. The place I go is a little church that they temporarily fancy up to look like it's welcoming enough for humans who are giving selflessly (I'm not sure I find leaflets and posters about taking God's hand particularly comforting but it's a nice building). Name called, I saunter in and the old lady, who looked like she'd been hitting the shit since the 60s, pulled me into a booth and did the test to see if my Iron/Haem levels were good enough. Although her composure no doubt reflected her years of experience, the placid look on her face soon changed when she asked me why I'd ticked that I was a male donor who'd had unprotected oral or anal sex with another man. Theeeeeen, a whole load of awkward stuff happened and at one point I lay in the middle of the donor room, legs elevated because I felt faint; who knew I solicit sexual favours AND have such unyielding nerves of steel.

Although a good laugh, that put me in a bad mood. I really value giving blood and I hated being told that I couldn't do something selfless with my time.

Which brings me back to describing my mood. It's nice to sum it all up in a realistic word. I don't want to think and worry in circles about things, I just want to reassure myself that I am merely an adjective and that my theatrics will roll over.

Manic. As I type, it's cascading into indifference but for the sake of pessimism we'll stick with manic. It hasn't been a great day guys. It's like the things I worry about are separate pieces of a pie, regulated by wires linking them together in a logical, manageable system. When I get panicky, a pair of malificent hands tangle all the wires and some are hanging out of their sockets and some are put in the wrong order and I'm trying to think about every single worry at once and sort it all out and then the system fails. 

I don't know if this happens to anyone else but to accompany a sour mood, I often like to rise daggers at myself. Why don't you have a car? Why aren't you saving more money? Why haven't you moved out? Why are you writing this shitty blog po....

Spending time on my own can be most therapeutic and quite equally an absolute ballache. Not that I have said appendage.

A warm embrace to fellow worriers out there who are feeling these things too. We all know that it'll end up being okay, and if it's not okay, it most certainly isn't the end.

Holiday offer: half price oral and/or anal packages upon presentation of large latte!