Can you believe it’s been a year already!

I just got Christmas and the New Year out of the way, I still get annoyed at myself for not being able to enjoy the social gatherings that go with it.

While most are looking forward to and always chatting about going out for drinks, dinner and night clubs, I’m spending my time thinking about how I’m going to get out of it.

I’ll turn up and go through the motions, make an excuse and leave early. Never drinking, I gave it up years ago, so I can always drive there and more importantly know how I’m getting home.

All through the night I’m in pain. Pain from controlling my anxiety to keep it all going. Keeping it all looking good on the outside.

But this is how I survive. And I’m not overly unhappy about it. At least I’m now a functioning anxious mess as opposed to the static blob I once was.

So roll on all those awkward gatherings to celebrate annual milestones, I’m ready to take you on. In my own way.



The human signpost

Is there really a need for the guys who sit at the side of the road holding the signs telling us the leather sofa place has a sale on anymore?

With today’s technology it seems like it shouldn’t need to happen. And who’s reading this sign and then rushing to buy a bargain sofa anyway?

As soon as I reckon I have this figured out as being a stupid idea (I mean really couldn’t they just bash the sign into the ground or tie it to a tree or something?) I think that there’s no way a company who can offer such great discounts would pay a guy to be a human signpost unless it brought in revenue. Right?

So the only explanation is that we’re all to blame for this poor guy sitting out in the cold and rain, we’re the idiots still responding to this out of date advertising practice.

The sofa guys don’t want to do this! They’re probably worried sick every day for the guy down the road with his little sign and old deck chair with very poor back support. They most likely  have to send down a constant stream of refreshments so he can make it through the day. They don’t want to do this anymore.

But they have to do it. They have to send the guy out there everyday because of us and our discount lounge furniture needs.

Stop obeying the human signpost. Give a guy some dignity.

Over thinker: The Haircut.

The other day while having a shave I noticed my hair was at its most perfect. Or perfect for me anyway. It’s been about three weeks since my last cut, which means I’m going to be due my next in about a week or so. This got me thinking about how long a haicut lasts.

After some concerns about the junk that fills my head I proceeded to break it down into some kind of timeline.

I figured that for every haircut you spend the first week getting a bit of growth to get over that ‘just cut’ look. The next week it’s just starting to get somewhat manageable. Coming into the the third week it’s starting to look good. By the end of the third week it’s looking awesome, its like hair nirvana, you’re thinking this is so good wouldn’t it be great if there was a pill that would just keep it like this.

The fourth week it’s coming off its peak, you think you can use an extra bit of gel or just dampen to make it look respectable. But its all in vain, from three or four days into that week it’s beyond your skill level. You need to reset the timeline with a trip to the barber.

According to my calculations you only get one good looking hair week for every haircut. That’s not great value now is it?

I (heart shape) Flying

I love a good burger. I love making them. I love buying the ones in the gourmet burger places. Mostly I love stealing their ideas so I can recreate them at home. I’ll even take my chances in one of the well-known multinational burger places that have an obsession with uniformity and giving their menu items specially branded little names. That’s how much I love burgers, but do I go around shouting about it?

At this point you might think this is a social anxiety related post. But it’s not. This is about my love of something. Mind you, making gourmet burgers at home does facilitate my not wanting to mix with other humans.

No, this post is about bumper stickers of all things. Yeah bumper stickers. You know, those little badges some people put on their cars to tell us how they’re feeling about a certain subject or to warn us about their hilariously loud singing while they drive.

But what sparked this idea off today was the bumper sticker that read: I Love Flying. Complete with the love heart symbol just so we get how much they love it.

Now here’s information I don’t need to know. So what if you love flying. You’re not flying now. Am I supposed to feel happy for you that you love flying? Or sad for you because you’re driving in front of me in a car?

To be honest what it made me feel was joy. Joy that you probably love flying so much that you absolutely hate driving and yet here you are, down on the road with everybody else. But just because you feel superior you want the rest of us to know that not only do you fly, but you love it!

Some of my joy comes from the feeling of hate I now have for you. I’m now hoping you never fly again. In fact if I see you heading for the airport I’m going to ram you off the road. What do you think of that, fly boy? Love flying now?

OK, I’m possibly over reacting, it would seem now that this post probably was about my social issues after all. This isn’t the normal reaction you’re supposed to have after seeing a bumper sticker. Even the most elitist slogans such as I Love Flying should not be met with such contempt, even though, I know this person was just trying to rub it in. Probably.

Now; if it was a bumper sticker that said I Love Burgers. That might be different. Lets throw in the word gourmet to give it an edge. This could be a sticker worthy of my bumper.

It’s design would obviously have to be classy. I’m thinking it would be in the shape of two buns with the burger bit in the middle carrying the slogan, I Love Gourmet Burgers, add a heart-shaped cocktail stick through the middle placing it in such a way as to replace the word Love, and I think we might have something!

Now who’s going to be upset by that?

(Vegetarians, get your own God damn sticker!)

Why why why why why? Bloody why!

I’ve gotten used to panic attacks occurring when I’m tired or feeling under pressure. I’ve learned to control them, or even pre-empt them so they don’t affect me too much. Don’t get me wrong it’s still pretty hard to cope with, controlling them can be tough. It can actually hurt. Physically. It uses muscle power to keep them at bay, draining you of energy.

My ‘why why why’ outburst comes from an episode I had today at lunch. I’m still hurting from it now. I had an anxiety attack while eating and conversing with some colleagues. And I don’t know where it came from! It was one of those out of the blue attacks. No warning. The worst kind.

What the hell is going on here? I just got this urge to get the hell out. An overriding feeling that something bad was going to happen. I don’t even know what. It’s this sense of impending doom, it’s just so over-whelming.

I’m so well practiced that I can hide an attack very well. So well in fact that, I even impress myself with my cloaking abilities.

I made my excuses and left. The walk back to the car was horrendous, I thought I wouldn’t make it. The second I sat into the car I started to feel normal again. It’s infuriating.

I was having a good time then that happened, now I’m outside, there’s no going back in now. Why why why?

Awkward conversations. How do they happen, again and again?

The other day I was in conversation with someone when half way through a sentence my mind went blank and I completely forgot the point I was trying to make. It wasn’t that it was a boring conversation, I simply didn’t want to talk to them.

Don’t get me wrong it’s not because I disliked them, it’s a social anxiety thing, I basically hate talking to people unless its planned. At least then I have time to think about what I might say, know my exits, research the location and so on. If you’re a sufferer of this you know exactly what I’m saying here, if not it just sounds mad!

Anyway, long after I should have said my goodbyes I persisted in talking and talking, making less sense as I made my way through this syrupy conversation. I don’t know why I didn’t shut up. It’s like I was in so deep that I couldn’t give up on it, I had to keep going and try to turn it into something good. Somehow. But I couldn’t, it was like I was under some kind of spell and it was intent on making me look like a total moron, it was torture.

I think what makes it even more stressful is you can tell the person you’re talking with knows you’re in trouble. But because of social protocol they let you continue, out of politeness they allow you to make an ass out of yourself. They know you’re out of your depth. It’s as obvious as the beads of sweat building on your eyebrows.

Christmas still runs on batteries


It’s 2015 and we’re still reminded at the checkout to get batteries. Do you have batteries? Would you like to buy batteries with that? Did you see we have a special on batteries?

Enough with the batteries. Don’t we have some sort of mini nuclear power pack that lasts for like a thousand years yet?

Now after the stress and anxiety of trying to find the right present I’ve discovered a new do I have batteries disorder. Great.