These days…

 

But perhaps that’s already changing. Keep things interesting, 2012.

Running From One Year To The Next, Screaming.

So it’s 2012 already. How did that happen? It seems to be mostly a blur; shell-shock from what came before, perhaps? But it had ups as well as downs this time, rather than downs and ohmygodno’s. Eager as I was to leave 2010 behind, escaping its shadow was never going to be that simple. So what do I have to say for 2011? Well, as far as snappy blogs go… er… yeah get a cup of tea in.

Please Come Round

 

Buy it and proceeds go to CALM

Have a good Christmas.

You Win Or You Die

So I’m a bit late to the party, but I don’t care.

I just finished reading this.

Bam.
Yes, it’s a result of watching the TV series. Hold that against me if you want.
The televised series has been one of the finest to be made, thanks HBO. Personally, I’ve been waiting for television to take fantasy seriously my entire life (thanks, Peter Jackson), and – source material aside – they nailed it. This won’t be so much a book review as it will be comparing it to the series, and an argument to why picking one or the other just isn’t enough. You need both of these in your life.

All Too Brief

The first time I kissed you, I barely realised how awkward I had become. For all the things I wanted to discover about you, I filled the air with my constant talking. Pausing for breath was a cumbersome necessity. The sun shone and the park was alive with spring colours, but there was only one thing I wanted to look at, even though it was awkward to do so sat on the bench right next to you. People often write about a kiss sending a spark of electricity through you, but the kiss itself was no greater an exhilaration than the buzz that ran through me the whole day. It was a very good day.

Father’s Day

A face lined with grooves, the equivalent of the rings in a tree trunk, when he doesn’t move he looks as old an a gnarled oak. In motion, he is far more. He is alive. And however I feel when I look at him now, I must always remember that, because it could have been different.

Shift

My life is changing and I often find it staggering to believe it’s real.

A lot has happened in a month, something I intend to tell you about, but following last year’s tiresome tirade of woes, this change is for the better.

I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t know if it’ll work out, but it has shown me that I genuinely had forgotten what it felt like to be happy. Even if it is just fleeting moments, it’s worth it for that odd sensation of wondering why the sides of my face sting like that – to find out it’s the result of having been smiling so often.

I don’t know where this will go, but I’ve not known where I’m going since I left university. But I’m blundering headlong because life is too short, and perhaps the knowledge of this means 2010 has left something good for me. But, at the same time, I’m not pinching myself to make sure I’m not dreaming, just in case I am.

One Year After Diagnosis

One year ago today, it was confirmed that I had Type One Diabetes.

The time between then and now has passed far faster than normal, which is a pleasing silver lining.  I’m sure I have learnt a lot in that time; certainly – considering the other traumatic events of 2010 – I have learnt more about myself than any other year.  But at the same time, I don’t feel I have progressed enough.  I don’t feel I have as much control over it as I should.  I know Diabetics don’t get a total grip over their condition in a year, and considering the serious distractions that come with a loved one’s serious illness being more than an ample distraction, I still feel I should have done more.  But it still feels like only a few months ago that it was confirmed.  In contrast, the day of diagnosis itself was a very long one.

As it happens

“It feels funny.”
That’s what the little girl said on television.
The half-smile on her face was the perfect example of a child hoping she had given a pleasing answer for a question that’s hard for many adults to answer. That little girl made you well up so much it was like those first days on insulin; differently coloured shapes moving at a no-longer-determinable distance, a a film of watery tears primed like athletes under starter’s orders.
Remember her.  Never forget her.  Repeat it over and over to make sure it sticks.  When self-pity takes over, remember this little girl. Whenever the desire to punish yourself with a torrent of woes gets too great, remember you did not have to face this when you were nine years old.  Remember that you are a grown man, terrified of something a child yet to reach puberty has to face in a world where everything is full of energy, activity and sugar.

Dear 2010

Dear 2010,

I feel it is only right to send you this letter, we’ve not met face to face, and this will be the last time I have any interaction with you.  I think you will understand that I am very comfortable with this fact, as – to say the least – we have not got along.