Clarity

Thinking about it, I need to add a little clarity to the miserable post I've just put up. I know it was miserable. I'm kind of wallowing in it for the night. What can I say? Sometimes you just need to curl up on the couch with a vat of chocolate ice cream (or in this case a jar of Nutella). I think a few explanations are also in order.

First up, I am not moving back to the UK. I am not thinking of moving back to the UK. Not in any serious fashion at any rate. I'm back here in Australia, and I'm generally happy enough being here. There are many advantages to it.

So now that's out of the way, I should probably explain a few things. There may be someone reading this who has read my blog for a while, so they will remember that I had what I can only call a dark period for a while there. The bit where a friend who reads this observed that I sounded like I wanted to slit my wrists. Another friend became very concerned for me and attempted a kind of intervention. I'm not in that place. A large part of my completely wet blanket mood comes from two things; I haven't been getting much sleep lately, for one reason or another (mostly stress related, actually; did I mention that thesis deadline in the last paragraph or so?) and on top of that, I've started cutting back on my sugar and caffeine intake, attempting to get it to ordinary levels, which was one of the contributing factors last time I slid into the blackest of black holes. It's Spring, too, which in Melbourne means pollen clogging the nose, and, in my particular case, the type of headaches that can make you forget to breath, let alone to anything else. Add to that an epic collection of stupid people to deal with at work today (clue: if I'm asking you if you've sent me the latest version of the drawings, because I can't see the difference between this lot and the last lot, you're not getting your plans approved. Just a hint), and you have a vat of misery sitting waiting for me. And there was no Hellcats on TV tonight to jolly me out of it (Pretty cast? Check. Cheerleaders doing the physically impossible? Check. Implausible story lines? Check. poorly acted vehicle for a "triple threat" a la Lindsey Lohan/ Olsen twins movies? Check. God I love that show). And I'm having both a fat day and, given the sudden warmer weather and my need to have actual work clothes, wardrobe shortage issues. I'm not without reasons for being down in the dumps. I've decided to retreat into gloom and doom for the night. I live along, I have that choice and nobody is here to complain if I decide to listen to the Waifs sing about being in London Still on repeat. Or if I chose to blog about it. So sue me, because that's the only way anybody outside this room is going to have any impact on this mood, and by then I'll have moved on.

Oh good. Looks like I've made the transition into nasty piece of work. Tomorrow I shallbe all smiles, even if they're sarcastic, with service returned to normal. No need to confiscate pointy things just yet.