Hey Day, It’s Not You, It’s Me.

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Not You, It's Me

Now and again people like to pass the buck along. Blame someone else, if something doesn’t go our way. Lately, I’ve gone down an alternative route. I have taken to blaming stuff on the day. ‘Mondays are brutal, so slow.’ Followed the next day by…‘What? Another slow day?!’ Today started off not so bad. Unfortunately in the last few hours it has turned into a slow night. Watching the most mediocre game of football I’ve seen in years, followed by a failed attempt at going to the gym. When your car is blocked in by another car, and the keys are not here to move it, you could easily blame the day. ‘Here we go again, another slow day.’ Not anymore. I’m taking it as a sign that the day is sick of me blaming everything on it. Not the day that is slow. The day has done nothing to me. It’s me. I’m the slow one. Acknowledging it is my first step on the road to recovery.

If you have ever read The Road Less Traveled, you will know it is a savage source of self help. One of the sections describes all about therapy. Describing the stigma that if you go to a psychiatrist, it is generally frowned upon, or looked down on. You must be a loop. However, the truth of the matter is that at least you’re admitting you have a problem, and you’re actually trying to fix it. As opposed to denying you’ve any problem, and just letting it get worse. A basic description really of the section. Anyways, ever since reading that, I’ve kept my eye out for free advice, or sessions I might somehow be able to bunk in on for free. Good old television therapists!


Now that I’ve acknowledged the simple fact that it’s me who’s slow, and not the day, I’m hoping I can move on from it. Still half the week to save my slow start. Apparently, acknowledging your mistakes is the way to leave them be and get past them. Forget worrying about trying to fix everything. Apologise. Move on. Great advice. Which I got from my new source of psychiatric help… House. Great show as it is, now it’s peppering in bits of psychiatric advice. Which is generic enough for you to mould to your own desire? Bellisimo!

Back in the day, I used to mould Tony Soprano’s psychiatrist’s advice to suit my own needs. For example, when I lived in Germany for a year, I used to sleep a fair amount during the day. Little kips here and there. Get up, go to college, back home and go to sleep for a while. Back up again for dinner, and then find a way to kill off the boring nights. Konstanz. Fine for a weekend. To live for a year though? They have a different definition for fun. I would not recommend it. Anyways, I remember in one of Tony’s therapy sessions, he described similar symptoms. Always sleeping. No urge to get out of bed. Bored. Signs he might be on the verge of depression! Brilliant, that’s what I had. T.V therapy had supplied me with the diagnosis I needed, which put my mind at ease. Better than not knowing!

Here. Sign Me in!

Unfortunately, in the end I figured out it was something else. We had a certain class, four times a week, that we could pass purely on attendance alone. Couldn’t miss more than six classes in the entire year though. Problem was, in my first two weeks I think I missed about four classes. The class was from eight in the morning, until nine. Meaning I had to get up at seven, to catch a bus, that would get me in on time. Which was tough. However, seeing as I couldn’t really risk missing anymore after the first two weeks, I had to keep getting up early every morning. Just to make sure I didn’t fail the class. Added to this, for the first half of the year, there was usually some sort of party on, most nights of the week. Even if the majority were absolutely horrific. So, there were a lot of night where I was getting only about five hours sleep. Which, to make a long winded explanation that little bit longer, was actually the reason I used to have so many daytime kips. Seeing as most of my afternoons were free of classes. Great story!

(Now that I re-think about it, I also think having only a bedroom and shared kitchen area contributed to the sporadic kips. Lack of a sitting room meant I would watch t.v in my bedroom. On my bed. Where one might easily dose off. Two great stories in a row!)

Look, maybe Tony Soprano’s therapist didn’t give a diagnosis that was exactly related to my needs so after all. However, at least it was supplied, thrown out there. And I could pretend to myself that I was on the road to sorting out my problem. The initial signs of depression. Which were actually signs that I just needed to get a proper night’s sleep. For the time being, in relation to the advice House got, I will apply it my current predicament. Stop worrying about the last two days. Acknowledge that they were slow and horrendous. Apologise. Move on. Overall today wasn’t too bad. Or, to be specific, I wasn’t too bad for parts of the day. Just a slow ape tonight. Although, I did just churn out this wonderful blogaruu to make up for the gym! Halfway there to a good, productive day, c’mon tomorrow!!!

Three songs. Wuu. Why so many? Because. One for Konstanz, one for yesterday, and one for tomorrow…

Neon Indian

Should Have Taken Acid With You – Neon Indian

Grizzly Bear

Slow Life – Grizzly Bear

Lupe Fiasco

Fire – Lupe Fiasco

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