I Can't Believe I Finally Get To Write This,

A couple of days ago I finally got an appointment I was waiting to have for a very long time, and the result of it is finally getting some meds to try and help me manage the symptoms of ADHD that have been causing me a lot of problems recently. But saying it like that feels like glossing over some of what happened so I'm going to take a step back. 

I have been trying to get a diagnosis for what I struggle with for a long time, definitely since I was 16, but possibly longer than that as well without me remembering the details. In places I feel like I have had little support on this, and other times I've had support that hinged upon conditions. We can help you if it's this, but since it's not that, the support has now gone, and you need to look elsewhere, but we're not going to tell you where. It's not what we thought it was, but we're not going to tell you what we think it might be. Maybe that's because specialists are very focused on their own areas, and anything outside of that is kind of just the void. It was difficult and there were times I struggled with it a lot more than other times and plenty of times where I thought just accept that this is your life. The idea of advocating for myself wasn't something I really understood for a while, and it's something I haven't always had the energy or capacity for. 

I walked into the appointment that I had a couple of days ago with a coffee in my hand and a splitting headache because I had barely slept due to worrying, and because I needed to get up rather early to get there. I thought I was going to have to advocate for myself to be able to get the medication that will hopefully help me. Without trialing the medication I have no idea if it will work, but I honestly thought I was going to have a fight on my hands to get to trial it, because hey, there's a lot of other things we can try first, but then the clinicians pretty much told me that they know that trialing the medication is the best thing, that for eighty percent of people it works and the hope is that I'm in that eighty percent. They needed to run a couple of tests to make sure that my physical health could cope with the type of medication I would be prescribed, and then they got me the prescription. I honestly didn't expect to feel disappointed at not needing to fight, but I guess that I had worked myself up to it so much that I couldn't comprehend not having to fight. I guess that when I have spent so long feeling like I was banging my head against the wall, getting somewhere without having to argue, getting support without having to demand it just feels weird. It's not bad, of course, but it is weird. And unexpected. 

I'm writing this on the eve of beginning the medication, because I needed to drive today and I couldn't start a new medication and then drive, and on the day that I got the tablets it was too late when I had them for me to be able to then start them that day. (I also wouldn't have started them and then been driving the next day because that sounds like a recipe for disaster, not knowing how they would impact me overnight.) Obviously, I'm probably going to write something when I've had a few days or weeks to settle on them, but I guess that is dependent on how they make me feel and whether or not they realise my biggest fear, which is that the medication to help me function stops me from being me, or it limits me in how much *me* I can be.

Please Try Not To Laugh,

Because right now I am serious. This is an issue and it becomes an issue every camp. And what is immediately obvious or what I should make immediately obvious is that I have sensory issues. I react to a lot of things a lot of the time and my skin has what can literally be thought of as an allergic reaction to stress when I am unwell, struggling, not coping, whatever you want to call it. I get what Americans call Hives as a reaction across my body, as such I stick to things I know, I stick to what I like, I stick to washing liquids I know I am okay with and sadly it still happens, but whatever, that's life, right? 

Okay, so what the hell do I wear to a sleepover with the Cubs? 

I know, it's that whole joke of having a wardrobe (or several) full of clothes and sitting there saying you have nothing to wear. Why do you own it if you don't or can't wear it? It's not always I can't, sometimes it is just an I can't *right now* or I can't *when I'm away from home and can't change*, or the fun one I can't *wear that in a semi-public place*. At home, I can sleep in whatever because the only person at risk of seeing me is the dog (who doesn't care, I know, she told me) or the delivery guy and that's with me wearing some form of dressing gown or coat over the top, and hiding behind the door. (Seriously, don't laugh, I'm not in the minority of people, most of us have done it even if we don't admit to it.)

When you're in a tent all by yourself then you are able to just wear whatever you want even if that is just your sleeping bag, but what you need to keep in mind is that if, in the middle of the night, one of the kids has an emergency or is sick or sad or whatever, the time it takes to respond is not just, let me wake up slightly and put a hoodie or something warm because it's cold outside of the tent and leg it across to where the kids are and becomes something about getting on a whole set of clothes. In the dark. Because I often lose things in the middle of the night because I kick them so they move, or I move and I have ended up waking up having somehow rolled so my head is where my feet were when I went to sleep so trying to sort myself out to be able to get dressed, particularly without getting too cold by getting out of my sleeping bag. 

Staying in a building can actually make it more difficult as well, because some of the buildings we stay in, all the leaders are in together and my Pack has a majority of male leaders. I'm not saying that as a bad thing, but it is something that needs to be taken into consideration when thinking about what to wear. All guys being in together and sleeping in their pants or pants and a t-shirt is one thing, but it's a bit different when it's a mixed room, or a room with people you don't know overly well or at all well. I've been on a couple of camps where I have shared a tent with someone else or have planned to share a tent with someone else, and honestly, for me it only really works in the sort of tents where there's a divider down the middle and either with older kids who are unlikely to have an issue overnight or with a significant plan of what to do if one of the kids wakes me up and needs me. 

This isn't even really a new thing. 

When I was in Scouts myself I went to a sleepover and was having an issue with pyjamas - I didn't know about the ADHD at the time, and I didn't know it was going to become a lifelong issue, which I guess I'm just assuming it will be at the moment because it's not got better since then - and I needed to get up in the middle of the night because of an asthma attack, and the only thing I could find to wear whilst being around my leader was my camp blanket. Thankfully she had known me enough years to know it was me and I'm a bit weird and the best thing to do is just ignore me and let me do whatever weird thing I am doing. 

Anyway I managed to find something to wear, took my giant fluffy hoodie with me not because I thought I would be cold, but because no one could say this thing is inappropriate (except if I want to wear it into the office, which I don't do) and thankfully, I didn't react to anything clothing wise, and whatever it was that did upset some my skin was calmed down by Doublebase before it got too bad.

Jesus Freaking Christ,

...I know I need the pressure of a deadline, but this one takes the biscuit. I'm in bed the night before returning to week after a... I was going to write blissful week of annual leave but I think that's wrong... we'll say complicated week of annual leave and I'm exhausted because of the lack of sleep from the last two days and everything I've done in between the two nights with little sleep (yes, it is possible to be exhausted after two bad nights of sleep, particularly for someone with insomnia and ADHD) and my feet somehow feel like blocks of ice despite the fact the electric blanket is on and I only took my slippers off thirty seconds before getting into bed, and there are a myriad of other reasons why my focus right now should be sleep, but I'm writing this blog, and why? 

Because my cognitive functions have chosen this moment to spit out a somewhat logical framework by which I can write one of the projects I have been trying to write for the last couple of years. The characters have been there, bit's of storyline have been there, there has been joy, passion and other emotions that have ebbed and flowed, but nothing has come out right, and AS SOON AS I SHOULD BE ASLEEP ahead of what will be another busy week, something in my head shouts coo-ey, have you thought about writing it like this? So. Bloody. Useful.

I need sleep. I need it, now, immediately, but I also know in the time it took me to walk from the bathroom to my bedroom that I lost parts of what I was thinking about possibly never to be seen again. I know that writing this blog is a distraction, but I committed myself to posting more and I'm determined to do it. And I know I need to be up at half past 8 in the morning because my car needs to be serviced, and it took me a while to get an appointment at the garage that I trusts so missing it is not an option. But I really want to write!! 

You might think I could just quickly scribble down notes and then that would prompt everything to come back to me in the morning or some time tomorrow *when I have more time* (jokes, I will not have more time tomorrow, tomorrow is going to be mental. And Tuesday is going to be even worse, presuming my car comes home from the garage fine tomorrow. (It not coming home tomorrow isn't really an option, but it is a possibility which is giving me anxiety and may be the reason I currently have a horrendous stomach ache.) Here's the problem. Memory prompts do not work well on me. I'm like the character from my beloved The Monsters of Gramercy Park: wake up in the night and scribble Ardilla on my hand, wake up in the morning and wonder why my nocturnal ponderings included Spanish squirrels. Imagine the kid from Paulie refusing to speak. 'Can you say but- ter- fly?' and all you get is a shaking head? As soon as I ask a question or start trying to recall something, it's like a little egg thief thing from Spyro grabs it, runs off and I'm having to choose between charging after it at high speed, use special flame throwing capacities (we'll say that's asking my mum... or Alexa...) or try and find another way to the same thing, because sometimes I just get frustrated because I can see what I mean, but I can't find the word and I can't draw to save my life so it's not coming out that way... The problem is, much like Spyro with me at the controls I end up banging my head into walls. Not going to lie though, liking the example where I am a dragon.

I don't want to spend some time, where I still don't sleep, writing something which turns out to be useless to me, but I also don't want to stay up all night trying to write it the way I want to write it, even just as a framework, because I already feel like I need match sticks to keep my eyes open. Sadly, the next time I have annual leave booked is also my birthday and I have plans to go and see Mr Big then (though whether that is on the day of my birthday or the day after is yet to be decided. Other than the fact the gig on my birthday is in Nottingham and that's a bit of a drive, I would be (am) really tempted to go to both since it is the final tour, and honestly, I'm not ready. I'm not sure I ever will be or would be ready for it to be their final tour, but I'm certainly not ready for it now. 

Is It Still A Sleepover If You Get No Sleep?,

You would think after the last couple of years that I would be used to not getting a lot of sleep when doing Scout camps, but hey, it's not something I apparently am getting used to.

I went into the sleepover last night already feeling tired, because I hadn't slept properly on Friday night after a busy day and then had a busy Saturday before it all started. 

We had planned to do the first sleepover for the pack (or at least the first in living memory) before Christmas and it be super Christmas-y themed, but I'm actually really glad that we didn't. For one thing, the run up to Christmas is always a busy period, and trying to fit something like a sleepover in can be absurdly difficult, but the more important reason to me is that not having Christmas to 'address' meant that we were pretty wide open for plans. 

Sometimes being completely wide open with plans makes me slightly panic because it feels like there's so much to choose from and I just can't decide, but not feeling like we're required to stick to something like Easter, Christmas or something like that gave us this brilliant opportunity to throw a bit of a mad combination together where the Cubs were practising skills that they have learnt this year, or just notch off a few different bits of Challenge badges or other badges that they have missed.

Some of it is little things, like getting a couple of them to make a cup of tea for a leader to wash their pots up and others are bigger and more abstract like leading a team, and realising it's not about just yelling at other people and stamping your feet. 

It's the sort of thing where we always learn a lesson - don't forget the extra speakers because if it's too quiet, they won't listen, and glass jugs break when dropped - though the important things were everyone (including the leaders) had fun, everyone was fed, everyone got SOME sleep and everyone wants to do it again at some point. 

When I got back to my own house though, I thought I felt pretty good on about four hours of sleep, even whilst I was putting away kit and throwing clothes into the washer, but then when I went out of the house to get on with my Sunday and I realised I was actually dog tired, and it makes me wonder how I've managed a few months where I've camped more weekends than I haven't and I've camped on three or four weekends back to back. It's not even as though that was so very long ago really, but hey, it's not stopping me, is it? 

Thinking About Cars,

I can't remember if I've written before that I was thinking about getting a new (to me) car which I think would suit me better with all of the climbing and camping I like to do, and am hoping to do more of, as well as the paddle boarding that I've been doing, because it would better accommodate my board and the rest of the stuff I bring with me. 

Sadly I made the decision not to change my car, because I looked at the cost of insuring the car that I want to get instead of my current car, and honestly, the price was astronomical. The cost of insuring it for one year was something like a quarter of the sale price of the car and more than double the cost of the insurance of my current car. When I first decided not to have the new(er) car I was really disappointed and thought about it in terms of being 'stuck' with my current car, but for one thing I know that is really ungrateful because I'm lucky to have a good, steady and reliable car that doesn't cost me much in tax and fuel, even if the insurance is ridiculous.

I've been told by other people before that you will always miss your first car, and I think that's definitely going to be true of mine when she has to go, because as much as I want a bigger one and the car I have isn't what I would have chosen had I really sat and thought about it, it was only when I was speaking to someone else about learning to drive and about first cars that I realised the one I have is actually pretty great.

For a first car, it was a bit expensive, but not really especially not given the fact there was only thirty odd thousand miles on it, it had a full service history and it was little, which was what I wanted. It also was only up the road, which was a good thing, though it wasn't me that drove it home the first time. I did have to take it back for a couple of little issues and the fact it was so close was a blessing at those times. It's sturdy, which is good since someone intentionally reversed into me in a car park, and thankfully it did no damage, and I've scrapped it into a bush more than once, because country lanes are not my friend, but the damage to it has always been pretty minimal. I love the body of the car, because closing the door doesn't sound like slamming a lunch box shut, but at the same time, I always knew it was likely to get a little bit banged up, because it was my first car and I was sure I was going to prang it off of something. I'm actually quite proud of myself because I've been a lot better with it than I thought.

As much as my car being a Kia means it's solidly built and it's pretty ace, there are things I want in a new car, such as heated seats and cruise control, which I think having driven for a few years without you are likely to start to want to get, but there is something almost like a rite of passage of driving a slightly crap car for the first couple of years you spend driving. I guess it's partly because of the risk of bumping into things and also whilst you live up to the saying of, you've passed your test, so now you can learn to drive. I'm likely to keep hold of this car for another couple of years whilst I save more towards buying a newer car and also whilst I wait for my insurance price to go down a bit, but honestly, I'm dreading that the car will develop some sort of fatal fault before I am actually ready to replace it.

I guess this is the reason I wish I had learnt to drive before I moved to London though, instead of waiting until I moved back. As much as I'm at the age where people enjoy cheaper car insurance (given I could have been driving for about thirteen years by now) I've only actually been driving for two years, and in that time had a no fault accident because someone chose to hit my car. (And it was a choice.) I realise you can't go back and change these things, and there is no sense regretting things you can't change, but man, I kick myself daily about this one. 

It's Not About Money,

 There has been a lot of coverage recently of the Post Office scandal and it honestly took me back to a conversation I had with a friend a few years ago when we were talking about Windrush, other scandals and what it should look like. Neither of us work in the area now, nor have we ever, but we were discussing what compensation should look like. 

Whilst the two situations are wholly different, the impact that it has had on people's lives has been similar in that people have lost their livelihoods, their savings, their freedom, their retirement and some of them have lost their lives before ever seeing justice, some at their own hands, because they couldn't take what a situation which was completely outside of themselves and their control.

We discussed what monetary compensation should look like and we both agreed that financially people should be put back into the position they were in prior to it happening, which is the generally accepted position, but we discussed how that should be 'in real terms'. When we talk about something using the phrase 'real terms' it's often talking about real terms pay cuts, where pay cuts are below the rate of inflation, so although you receive more money, you get less (for want of a better word) stuff for that money and so you didn't really get a pay rise. Even though it can be difficult to prove the position people were previously in, or it can be difficult to put a number on what that looks like, if someone was getting ready to buy a house (which is a really bad example in some ways, but not in others) then they should be returned to the position where they are able to buy a house. Now, obviously it is unlikely that they would be able to buy the same house that they had been looking at, but if for example they were looking at a three bedroom house in a 'nice' area, then we're not compensating them if after any form of payout they're having to look at buying a one bedroom flat in a tower block or something similar. In effect, we should be looking to put them back to where they were or better. 

As much as I don't like the idea of the Americanisation of the UK, and the fact that people will sue each other over anything these days, when we talk about compensation we can only talk about money, and that is rubbish because more often than not, what people have lost is not money. 

A different friend was in an accident, and the impact of that accident has undoubtedly shortened his life. It has changed his appearance, his ability to cope, even his personality to an extent, and whilst he 'got a payout' we had a discussion once where he said he would give all of the money back to have a body that works, a normal life span, and not to be exceptionally close to a panic attack every time there's a dicey moment in the car (which with the way people drive, happens a lot). The money that he was given, the money he was deemed to be owed, won't extend his life, nor does it remove all of the difficulties he has, and it hasn't allowed him to course correct and get back to the life he had planned and was working towards, but nothing really can. The money does mean he can do things like paying for cleaners so he doesn't have to struggle with it, and he can pay for taxis so he doesn't have to drive. To some degree he could choose to spend that money pampering himself, like trips to Bali every year or something, which might not be the life he planned, but it's a pretty good life.

It seems to me that what is being discussed for these former Post Masters and Mistresses is one fixed figure, as though the experiences of everyone is one fixed thing. There is some acknowledgement that that isn't true, because there's one figure for those who weren't convicted and a higher figure for those who were, but again this suggests that the experiences of each, and what each lost is either one or the other. There's something impersonal about it, and that doesn't feel right. Whilst anything more wouldn't be quick, the whole thing hasn't been quick. It's been going on for so long, and it's been such a long fight that I think it would be better if these payments were more of an interim whilst a better assessment was made so that those who were impacted even more significantly are able to receive a sum that 'makes them whole' as though anything ever can, but without having to wait for all of the sums to be done. They should be able to get their lives back on track from now. By rights, they should have been able to do this a lot of years ago. 

I Stopped Posting, But Didn't Stop Writing,

I've managed to stick to the whole thing of writing every day, but I haven't been posting because life got busy and I couldn't write in a coherent way I was happy to post and I always didn't want to restrict myself from writing about the things that I wanted to write about which I couldn't post about because they're not just about me and my life. 

So I've spent the last nearly a week off of work - on planned leave - and as much as I had a list as long as my arm of things I wanted to do, I haven't done a lot of it, and I honestly have to say that I'm kind of glad. As much as it means those things are still sat there waiting to be done, I've given myself time to rest, sleep and deal with how tired I have been feeling. 

It made me realise that I was struggling to get enough sleep and it is also making me really glad that I am going to be going to see the ADHD clinic soon, because the hope is that I can be prescribed some medication that will make things easier, but I also know that there are no magic pills that make life easy and that 'fix' every 'problem' I have. 

Anyway, as short and sweet as this was, I'm going to try and get back to posting every day without punishing myself if I can't. 

Why Don't You Just, (It Puts The Lotion on The Basketcase,)

There is a quest I really hate when it comes to me saying I'm having a bad day and someone trying to make a suggestion. I'm not sure if it's the question itself that annoys me or if it's the inclusion of the word 'just'. Using the word 'just' in this sort of context makes things seem little or simple, and the problem with that is it can really minimise what is happening for another person. Whilst de-escalating someone from catastrophising is a good thing, making something that seems huge to them seem small can actually really undermine what you're trying to do because you make the person feel small or you make them feel stupid or, and I would argue that this is the worst one, you make them feel misunderstood. I will admit, I also hate being made to feel like I'm being melodramatic about a small thing when it's really upsetting me, but then again a big thing to remember is that it's not just that seemingly tiny moment; it's everything that has gone into that tiny moment. 

Yesterday I felt like I was close to ripping my own skin because I couldn't stop scratching where a particularly irritating label kept prickling at my skin. I was at home, I was trying to focus and I was trying to work, but every time I moved in a certain way this label took another swipe at my skin to the point where I felt sick, because I was just too overstimulated. I chopped the label out of the t-shirt but still felt like I could feel it, because it wasn't just about the label; it was everything else that added to the overwhelm I was feeling. Ridiculously, I have owned that shirt for a lot of years. It has irritated me before and I've considered chopping the label out before but I didn't because it has the washing instructions on it and I might need them, but yesterday I decided to do it anyway because that was one of the problems I could solve. And because I don't own a tumble dryer anyway so it's not like I'm going to accidentally put it in one because I forgot that it won't go in one. (Saying this, I don't look at the labels even when I have access to a tumble dryer - I effectively risk assess on what I am happy to risk in the dryer. Do I care if it gets destroyed? Yes. Am I sure it can be dried? No. Guess it's not going in. Do I care? No. *Fling in.* Neeeeext. That kind of thing.)

I've been told, why don't you just wear something you don't react to? Funny that. Maybe because I wanted to feel like there was something not quite scratching at my skin all day to the point that it makes me want to scream. Sound reasonable? No. Well that's because the answer is I have no idea what sets it off. I don't know if I have a reaction of my skin feeling like it's on fire because of something physical (other than wool. Proper wool and I are not friends) like maybe detergent, even when I use fairy or sensitive or safe for babies kinds of detergent, or if it's something mental and the way it comes out is the compulsive need to scratch an itch that is more mental than physical. 

Yesterday I went into the office in a t-shirt that is so soft I don't think I have ever had any sort of issue with it, other than being cold in it when it was one of the only things I could wear and my favourite sweater, which I've worn a lot of times before and been fine in. Was it something I ate? I don't think so. Or drank? I don't think so, but who the hell knows? 

Sometimes saying 'why don't you just...' makes it feel like it's my fault. It's like, you're feeling stressed out, overwhelmed, upset and generally a bit s**t because you were not prepared enough. Ridiculously, I had a change of clothes in a bag ready to go into the car (though I can't remember whether they made it to the car or not) in case something like this happened, but honestly, I can't make any guarantee that whatever I changed into wouldn't have been just as bad because I was wearing some of my favourite clothes which are my favourite because they are comfortable and not just because I like the colour or the design. To some degree it's the fit and to a bigger degree, it's been that I have been comfortable in them before. Even my snow boots. Ninety nine percent of the time they are fine, but on very odd occasions they pinch on one toe. 

I know people are trying to help, I appreciate people are trying to help, but sometimes, it really doesn't help because saying 'just wear something you don't react to' is not a simple problem to solve.

(The brackets were added after the original title, and the reason I had to add it is because it's the second thing today that made me laugh more than expected. It's not a term I generally use, other than in the colloquial sense of a barely-functioning or non-functional person and only ever towards myself, and partly because it launches me into something else I wanted to say. Is lotion (Brits, read moisturiser) one of the biggest hoaxes going? I've always been told I itch because I have dry skin. I really don't think I do, and if I did, moisturiser or 'lotion' would make it better, surely, but the vast majority of the time, I put the stuff on and it doesn't make anything worse (as in, I'm not having a reaction to the cream) but it doesn't make things any better, which makes me think it's either got to be some form of allergy or intolerance that I am yet to figure out, or it is all in my head. Or, lotion, moisturiser, body cream, whatever, does nothing, and Christ only knows why I have so many bottles of it in the bathroom and why it is forever included in any holiday gift sets other than to make the present look better than just a couple of bottles of things like body spray and body wash.)

Doing That Thing I Hate,

Yeah, I know that could be a very, very long list of things but I really do hate writing about not writing, but sometimes that is what it comes to. 

I wanted to write this, because even though I have been writing every day it hasn't been a blog, but I have managed to publish a blog every day and that's been feeling pretty good. Even though I haven't necessarily been publicising them every day - even when I have had photos prepared to post with them since I HATE wordy Insta stories! - because there has been a lot going on. Which I'm not going to talk about. 

Today was my first day in the office this year and it was A LOT to say the least. It meant getting up a lot earlier than I am comfortable with, trying to leave the house with what I needed for the day (and failing not because of forgetting anything, but just not being able to anticipate everything I was going to want or need) spending too long driving and that not being hugely pleasant, realising in the middle of the day something was itching and I wasn't sure if it was my skin or something that just felt itchy in my mind, or in my soul or whatever, and so even though I took my laptop with me to the office (I don't mean the work one, though I obviously did take that one) with the vague intention of writing something on my lunch break, I didn't even take it out of my bag whilst I was there. I was trying to think what I could write whilst I was on the way home and honestly, it was honestly the least inspired I have felt for the whole of this year. I felt empty; devoid of all thoughts and opinions, and let's face it, that's not like me at all. 

What changed was the closer I got to home, once I had collected the pooch from my parents, the more I felt I was getting my groove back. That's not to say I walked into the house and felt like I could write a novel in five days, or crack out a poem in under twenty minutes, but I felt a bit more like my normal self. I'm still overwhelmed and I still feel like there's an army of ants crawling across my skin, but there's a bit more "Charlie Flavoured Normality", not to be confused with the regular kind, mixed in there. I've sent the pooch to bed early (and yes, I feel very guilty for that, got into bed with a thermos-type tumbler of tea (I don't have anything against mugs, I just don't like drinking cold tea and it's too cold at the moment for me to drink hot tea, because I forget about it), my pjs on and my electric blanket keeping me warm, and I'm writing from my bed. It's not the best idea in terms of sleep, but it does mean I will get this published before midnight and I think that will soothe some of my ruffled up feathers as well.

I even thought about outlining the plot of another novel (yes, I know, finish those you are currently writing before getting distracted by any more!) before I realised it was a bit like a film that I love, without the intention of being, so decided not to bother. 

Language,

No, this is not going to be one of my lengthy diatribes about how the English language fails us on a daily basis, making it more difficult than it should be to express a point of view for no obvious reasons, but something of an apology, but also not. 

I've oscillated between swearing and not swearing on this blog, and it can be tedious trying to keep up with the should I, shouldn't I argument of it. I tend to try and either switch words out for something else that makes it obvious what the intended word was, or remove letters and put in *s in their place, but sometimes, I don't want to do that. And for anyone who has met me in person, particularly lately, I am a bit of a Sweary Mary. 

Over Christmas, this has been a point of contention. One of my parents says (or yells) Stop f***ing swearing, and I say no. It's either an instruction or sometimes a question (can you stop, will you stop) and the answer is still no. It was a topic of conversation that an elderly relative doesn't like it when I swear, but they let the men in the family swear like sailors (and blames it on a lifestyle - I can't help but roll my eyes). I was told they think 'it's not lady like' to which I replied, 'have they met me?' The times where I act like a lady are few and far between and I will also add that one of my favourite memes (and occasionally sayings when people get on my nerves about it too much) is 'I do not spit profanity, I enunciate it, like a f***ing lady.' 

Firstly, I'm not actually sitting (or standing or lying or anything else) calculating what I'm going to say and then peppering it with swear words for good measure - what comes out of my mouth is the way I have thought it. I'm mostly not offended by swear words though there are some I try and use more sparingly, though lately with more limited success. I try and be a little more contained around aforementioned relative but that's less to not offend their (quite frankly ridiculous) sensibilities and more because I do not have the energy for the argument, nor do I fancy the headache from the nagging. The excuse that they don't want to hear it often gets trotted out, but I don't want to hear a lot of the things that they say either because of the nature of what it is, however arguing on that one is also always my fault. (And sadly - I'm not sad about it - I'm not very good at just saying nothing and lettig it all go.) 

But the more important thing for me is this. Language is a personal thing. There are plenty of things which make me uncomfortable about the way that people use language - particularly when it changes so fast I have no idea what the young people I work with are talking about - but that's life. As long as people aren't swearing at each other, being racist or sexist or anything else of that ilk, trying to police the way that other people express themselves really p*sses me off. I've been in a situation where people have tried to tell me that I shouldn't swear because they don't like it, and a lot of the time, I want to response by just saying, I don't care. I'm not generally a person who wants to make other people uncomfortable, but that doesn't mean I will willingly let other people police my behaviour when it's not actually harming people. 

(When I'm in charge of children, I obviously behave differently, though sometimes that means walking away, and making sure people know if I'm walking away, not to follow me, unless they want to deal with an angry me, which is likely to include me swearing. The children just know not to follow me and are looked after by someone else whilst I work whatever it is that's winding me up out of my system.) 

I'm Not Actually As Disorganised As I Look,

 It would be very easy to walk into my house, you know, if you were invited, and think, jees, you have no organisational structure to your life at all, and honestly, you would be forgiven, at least to some degree, for thinking that. I am a bit scatterbrained. I forget things a lot, I get confused a lot and inevitably I walk out of the house with the feeling that I'm going without something literally every time I go anywhere, and sometimes, it's a whole list. Most of the time, that is okay, because for most things you can replace them pretty easily where you're going. I regularly get to camps early because I know I will need to drive off and find something that I have realised I have forgotten. I'm also good at remembering things other people will have forgotten and other people do that for me and generally, we all muddle along pretty well. There will always be a time when you forget mugs, well, there was that time I forgot mugs anyway, there will always be someone who forgets a chair. There will always be multiple people who forget chairs.

Organisation is something I try to achieve but unfortunately there is no one linear way to do things, so inevitably things go missing not because they're stored illogically or in the 'wrong place' but because I can't remember what I thought the right place was when I actually stored it. You know the old joke of keeping something so safe even I don't know where it is, that's me, a hundred percent. I was recently looking for the other book by Dr Richard Shepherd 'Unnatural Causes' whilst reading 'The Seven Ages of Death' - ridiculously I started reading this because I had to wait for Christmas to get the next Bridgerton book, and this was the next "logical" choice - and I was somewhat obsessed with the idea that it was on one of the bookshelves, effectively filed with other books which were the sort that aren't best sellers, but almost like current W H Smith most recommended or something, which would have put it in the same place as 'The Hate You Give' and Hibo Wardere's 'Cut'. I kept looking in the same place, partly because when I last thought I had lost a book, that was where it turned up. Annoyingly, I could see the previous missing title - my beloved 'Before I Go To Sleep' by S J Watson, but I could not find 'Unnatural Causes'. I'm pretty impressed though because I knew I had it. Like, I KNEW. There have been multiple occasions over my life where I have ended up with two copies of the same book because I forgot I had it already, so I impressed myself knowing I had it, even though I was irritated as fluff that I didn't know where it was.

This isn't just some lengthy thing so I can go on about all of the wonderful books that are taking up the shelves of my library guest room merge storage area, but just simply trying to explain that I was looking in a very logical place for it, not just for one reason - it was one of those books that was highly recommended at the time - but also because it was a place I had previously located something which had been missing. It turned out that the damn thing was in the equally logical position of being the opposite side of the room in a stack which sits atop the books which are properly shelved - I refuse to believe I have too many books, I just don't have a proper way to store them - with the likes of Adam Kay's 'This Is Going to Hurt'. Why? Because I sorted the books on that side of the room by genre, or at least started to, and so there is a whole section on crime fiction, there is a whole bit on serial killers, there's all the war time stories like 'Bread, Jam and a Borrowed Pram', everything animal related, Jojo Moyes has her own section, there's the LGBTQIA+ fiction stack and there is the pile of medical books. There's a few different nurses' stories, there's a prison doctor's story, and there is one of the most recent books that ripped my heart out, 'When Breath Becomes Air'. 

Somehow, despite the fact that there was some emotional turmoil deciding where 'When Breath Becomes Air' should live because I was torn between putting it with 'The Fault In Our Stars' to have a little epic books that made me cry hysterically section, having it with the other medical books where it ended or putting it on one of these gorgeous house shaped shelves that are above the guest bed, because that's where some of my very favourite books are. A few NaNo novels live up there - yes, including the proof copy of mine - 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' is up there, there's a few Jodi Picoult's and the only reason Jojo Moyes didn't end up there is because she's written too many books for me to put them all up there and I can't bare to separate them. 

Okay, that did turn into a bit of a tangent. 

The point is, even when I am very deliberate and very specific with trying to be organised, it doesn't always work, particularly when it comes to issues with object permanence; if I can't see it, it doesn't exist, but it becomes an, if I can't see it, I can't find it, because who knows what system I filed it by. So many things come into this and it's also one of those 'if I put it down it is lost' situations which is why I need to figure out what I'm doing with something when I'm looking at it, or I need to do a task when I pick it up, because if I put it down, God only knows when I will find it again to sort it, and some things just don't work like that, do they? 

In A World Full of the Word Yes, I'm Here to Scream,

 I cannot emphasise enough how entranced with Fall Out Boy I am at the moment, and I love the song that they performed with Elton John, so much I quoted it for a blog title. And honestly, it's applicable both in its current form and with the next word. (No.) 

On my list of bad habits there are two significant entries. I get super into things, like baking, chocolate making, climbing and all sorts of other things, and I am obsessed for an indeterminate period of time, and then I kind of stop having time for it. It's not that I go off it as such, but just that it stops being the centre of my life. It's not always because I've found something else to do, but almost like the motivation has left me. I've also got a bad habit of buying everything I think I will ever need for sad hobby very early on and being a bit all the gear and not much idea. 

Tonight, after logging off of work I decided that I was finally going to get around to starting making something I've been thinking about for literally years. It's going to be a bit of a long process, but right now, I don't care, I just wanted to start. A few years ago I saw an awesome chocolate mold that was shaped like Christmas trees and I thought I could make something which is effectively a riff on a walnut whip, without the walnuts and with some special Christmas-y ingredients. It took me a while to find the mold again on eBay when I eventually decided to do them and this last year, I forgot that I had the mold until too late in the day to make them for Christmas 2023. If I don't at least have a go at making them, not using the word crack because I don't want to curse them when they come out of the fridge, I don't know if I'll do it this year. 

I wanted to make them with tempered chocolate, but tempering chocolate is a process which requires more patience than I actually have, so I gave up in the middle. I wasn't convinced the thermometer was working right, I wasn't convinced I had guessed the amounts of chocolate right (God only knows where I have put my scales) and I wasn't convinced that I could keep a bowl of tempered chocolate at the right temperature once it was done for long enough for me to fill the bottom of the molds and then brush enough chocolate for a shell up the sides. Honestly, I think it might need to be done in layers next time, because there is going to be quite a tough piece of chocolate at what will form the top of the whip from where it all dribbled down inside. (Though this won't necessarily be a bad thing, because I was thinking about blow torching the top ever so gently and quickly so I could stick a star in the top, though now I think that that might be a little too delicate, so I might just melt some white chocolate in a piping bag and pipe a messy star not the top. I'm also debating icing sugar snow over the top as well, but that's going to have to wait for me to see how they look when they come out. I've also considered putting tiny coloured hundreds and thousands into the melted chocolate before putting it into the mold but I'm not sure it will work out properly.)

I've also considered where I can make them as tea cakes and also considered whether I can make green chocolate, but the easiest chocolate to colour is white chocolate, and white chocolate is probably going to be way too sweet for the other ingredients I want to put into the middle of them.

Anyway, tangent, I would normally be considering something like getting a chocolate tempering machine, but for one thing, I'm well aware of the fact I will likely get bored pretty quickly, but also, they're really expensive and I'm not sure that tempering chocolate is ultimately worth it. Yes, it makes it shiny, yes, it makes it stronger, but it's so much effort...

But I'm proud of myself for not doing my ultra impulsive thing of just going for getting something that will just take up space in my house. Even if doing the tempering without a machine makes me want to scream. I think I just need more practice. (And more chocolate). 

I Got My Wings,

 Full disclosure, it is not Friday the 5th when I'm writing this. I'm writing it at twenty to two in the morning because one of the dogs is stressed from the fireworks and it's taking a lot to try and get him to go to bed and get some sleep. I used to love fireworks, but as I have said countless times, I don't love the impact they have on my animals.

Anyway, onto what I was actually going to be writing about. It turns out I might actually be full of shit. Why am I full of shit? Well, because I said I'm not really a resolution person and I said I wasn't going to try and do any of these things of do X every day of January, but instead, I'm doing something... worse? Better? I guess that depends on your perspective. I'm going to be trying to write every day. I'm part of a writing website called 4 The Words, I've written about it a lot before and it's something that I get very passionate and overexcited about and have zero awareness of when other people's eyes glaze over about it (thank you ADHD) and I have a streak which has been live for a consecutive one thousand, four hundred and sixty days, which is four whole years. Technically, I joined at the end of November 2019, but I didn't keep my streak fully after the end of NaNoWriMo, so my consistent one has been since 7th January 2020, but it's calculated by number of days not calendar years. It was a very different time.

One thing about streaks is that if you log in on the day, you can 'fix' a streak even if you don't write, because at least you thought about writing, and there is the facility to 'book time off' with planning ahead of you can 'buy back' days onto your streak, but only for a very limited period. There's a theory that I thought was called nudge theory, but I believe that's actually something different, which states that doing something small towards your goal each day is the best way to achieve it, so actually even logging onto the website and clicking a button to say I can't write today, whether it's because I'm busy or I'm ill or because I just feel like an empty vessel, it's okay. To some degree, the system allows me to take that further, but something I'm aiming to do this year is to actually log in every day and write the small amount of words (four hundred and forty four) that I need per day to pass par for the site. By the way, I'm spelling the numbers out for two reasons. Yes, long hand the words are worth more than a number written as 444, but also because I have realised recently that even though I'm good at maths I do struggle reading numbers sometimes, mainly between 3s and 8s, but the words generally behave a bit better for me.

There are going to be days where that is not physically possible, so I'm planning to email myself my words on those days so I can make sure I am writing every day, even if it's only a small amount, and even if it's only essentially me dictating my own internal monologue to myself. I don't want to lose my love of writing again because I'm trying to force myself into it, but I cannot lose this part of myself because I categorically do not know who I am without it, and part of the reason I felt as bad as I did during November was because it felt as though this part of my personality was crumbling, based on the complete and total misconception that my identity as a writer started with NaNoWriMo and couldn't function outside of it. 

Today I, well, my avatar of a slightly different name (character restrictions on usernames so it's CharlieWrite, having been charlwrite for a number of years due to even tighter character restrictions) will get a set of gold wings as soon as I hit my four hundred and forty four words, and you better believe I will be putting them on that tiny, dweeby looking facsimile of me, because I am proud of the achievement. Even if it means I was full of shit when I said no resolutions, and no joining in on do something every day things, this is something I really want to do, and I sat with it for a while to see that it was that, rather than something like parkrun that I carried on with because I wanted to want to do it, which is not the same. And if it does make me full of shit, well, a lot of people are so I guess I can make my peace with that. Hopefully in four years time I will be sat here ready to get my 8 year wings that are the coolest pair (in my less than humble opinion) and this year will be one which I look back on as a time of peace and focus, though I realise that might be asking a lot of a brain that like shiny new things and behaves erratically. We'll just have to see.

I Don't Hate Vegans, But,

 part of the "vegan messaging" I've seen recently is really annoying me. 

Something I have realised since moving out of London is that vegetarian options elsewhere are more limited and that's really frustrating a lot of the time. Generally the landscape of vegetarian food has been making some really interesting changes, partly because bigger organisations are trying new things and some of them are great, but smaller companies are not really surviving or being stocked in large places because when costs are being squeezed, the cost of faux meat is pretty high and it is the sort of thing that actually, dietarily, it's not integral, but it's a nice to have. If you know vegetarian cooking, you can make good food without it, and if you don't Margherita pizza and chips is way cheaper anyway.

Particularly around Christmas I struggle because the typical vegetarian options tend to be things like mock-beef wellington or some form of pie and I have a real aversion to pastry, and it can make me feel quite sick. A lot of places are doing better vegetarian options than when I moved to London, but the problem that I have currently is this idea that comes from vegans where it's being suggested that restaurants and eateries of all varieties make all of their vegetarian options as vegan options, because all vegetarians can eat vegan, but vegans can't eat everything vegetarian. Whilst I understand it, I completely disagree and that's for a number of reasons.

The first one is dietary autonomy. 

Anyone who has ever been to my house, since I bought this place, will know that I'm actually pretty open to people bringing whatever they eat into my home. I did used to be a bit more of a pain in the ass about it - mainly because the idea of anything with meat contaminating my food was enough to make me want to be sick - but these days as long as no one is trying to get me to eat anything I don't want to, I kind of don't mind, although if there was raw chicken involved I am a bit manic about cleaning. It's my choice what I eat, and for that to include eggs and cheese and honey, so I don't think it's really fair for vegans to decide that vegetarians should be eating vegan just because that works better for them. 

The second is that there are things in vegan food I just hate. 

Most vegan cheese includes coconut oil, and honestly, it's disgusting. Mostly with vegetarian food it's the exclusion of a relatively small list of ingredients, but with vegan food, the number of ingredients which can't be used is a lot, and not being able to use things like butter, or eggs to bind things, means the use of other ingredients which not everyone is used to, not everyone likes, and that make it exceptionally difficult for people with sensory issues to cope with. Even things like vegan cake have a different consistency and texture, so being forced into that being potentially your only option doesn't seem fair. 

The third this is that this argument isn't adding options to a v/ve menu at all. In most places now there are at least two to three v/ve options on the menu, but arguing that all of these should be vegan doesn't expand the number of dishes on offer, making there be three or four choice or more, it just means that there are the same number, or actually, for some there would be less, because you can't make vegan halloumi fries (or you can, but they would be expensive and most probably made of coconut oil) and there are a number of dishes which would go through the same. Whilst it would be lovely for chefs and cooking schools to value vegan cooking as highly as 'normal' cooking, and to make sure that staff are equipped to produce decent meals which are suitable for people with all dietary requirements, I think that's something which is a longer term goal than just offering the easy fix of 'make all the veggie options vegan'. We're only on day 4 of Veganuary and it's already getting on my nerves. 

Clinically Naive,

Trying to write this sodding blog has been a classic example of my not being able to organise my own thoughts, partly because I'm trying to put it together in a way that makes some form of sense to other people and also because bits and pieces keep popping in and out of my head and it's a nightmare. I also keep getting a little, I don't know what the word is but some form of uncomfortable, that I mention the ADHD diagnosis a lot, and I do, but I also know that it's something that is a big part of my life right now, it's a big part of me trying to learn about myself, so I guess I have to suck it up through the bad feelings and just get on with it.

There are some terms that people use about those around them and you just kind of get used to and they're effectively ways of describing your ADHD or autism traits before you realise that's what it is. I've been called clinically naive, I've referred to something my assessor told me isn't dyspraxia (but I forgot the name of it) as my 'clumsy dumbf**kery' and I'm sure there are plenty of other things as well. Once I thought of myself as an eternal teenager, because of a few things, but since the ADHD diagnosis I kind of had this moment where I was like ooooh, that makes more so much more sense now. 

Some of these terms are really useful, and they really help to make some sense of the, quite frankly, mess inside of my head, and I'm sure it's the same for others. Some of these terms help to kind of describe what it feels like to deal with who we are and how our heads work, or don't as the case may be, and some are just other people applying phrases that might seem well meaning, but actually point out that we're different, or try and minimise those differences and make them seem like things we are lacking. Like, my 'eternal teenager'-ness was always blamed on an inability to grow up. 

I get that I can miss social queues, I believe in people for longer than I should and I try to see the best in things, even though it is really difficult. 

One of the things I really struggle with is I take the things that people say, even in off hand comments, to heart. I get upset about it, I get hurt by it, I have had to deal with people treating me like crap for standing up for myself against these comments before, and so I just kind of absorb them, I take them in and I effectively use them as a stick to punish myself with them. I don't do it on purpose, it's something I'm trying not to do, but it happens. 

I think the reason that I wanted to share this - that might be overstating it because I can't say it's the most comfortable thing in the world - is because whilst people think that saying things about ADHD being a band wagon, everyone having it, or it just being lazy girl syndrome for those of us who are just being diagnosed, it's harmful. It's really harmful and sometimes you can hurt people even when you mean well. And hey, that's okay, but if that person tells you that you hurt them, maybe just try to understand them rather than jumping on why it's not your fault that they're hurt. 

Antisocial Media,

 Truth time: I don't remember if I wrote about why I turned my Instagram private, so I'm going to do that here and if I'm repeating myself, well shit, it happens and I'm sure we can all get over it. 

As a volunteer with [I'm not actually going to put the name of the organisation because they would not thank me for swearing] I work with youngsters and the age range we as an organisation work with is vast. I haven't worked across the full span of the age range, but I'm only short by two years and that's youngsters so small I'm not sure I wouldn't trip over them. As these lovely young people grow up, they get social media accounts and they sometimes like to find stuff out about the people they interact with - it's fine, we all do it - but there are photos on my Instagram of university nights out, utter rubbish I posted years ago and never deleted because who scrolls back that far anyway (trust me, they do) and there are photos of me at Rocky Horror Picture Show. It is a photo I'm proud of, do not get me wrong, but it's not something I would share with them, it's not an outfit I would even consider wearing around them and the God's honest truth is I forgot it was there until someone said, oh, they found your Instagram and were sharing screenshots between themselves of different photos on there. And it was like alarm bells going off in my head, and the only thing I could think to do was shut it straight onto private mode. 

In some ways, getting rid of my public profile of Instagram was actually really positive, because I didn't feel the need to post on there, and I wasn't concerned about the idea of 'if you want to be a writer you're going to have to get better at promoting your own books' and I didn't have to think about content production or all of those things that I was starting to think, hey, if you actually want to do this writing thing as more than just a venting to yourself thing, or just a written version of a Sims game, effectively, you're going to have to get better (not even better, get less shit at) using social media. I know the theory of it, but I'm not good at consistency, I don't want to spend hours on it because it's not the bit I'm good at or that I like doing and honestly, although I knew it was going to affect things like readership to the blog I had already kind of fallen out with writing and started the mental health episode that I had (though it was only bubbling under the surface at that stage). 

At present, I have a Facebook page I rarely use, I use my Twitter (and hate it), glance at my Blue Sky (not yet loving it) and that's about it. I had to learn how to embed links into stories on Facebook - post it from Instagram - so that I could get the blog out to my friends lists and hope that made some impact (and it clearly worked, though I'm sure the Google Analytics for the blog are broken given that it recorded a ludicrous number of views from Singapore over a few days this year (though having looked at it, I originally thought it was 2 days, and then it turned out it was over quite a few more days than that, so who knows?) I'm not necessarily thinking I want to try and build the readership of this blog massively, because that would be insane pressure to actually consistently write something worth reading, but I know I will have to go back to having more of a public social media presence, however uncomfortable that might feel, if I'm going to think about publishing anything this year, and I would like that to be the plan, but will have to see how I get on. 

I go through fits and starts of using stories, but I think they're going to have to be a bit more of a feature of my life so that I can actually put the links to these blogs out, and then hopefully, eventually, announce a date for the Fairies sequel and a couple of other things I have been working on, but I will be honest, it's doubtful if either of them will make an appearance this year, let alone both. 

But Do You Actually Believe in Fairies?,

 This is actually a really hard question to answer, so maybe I should start with why am I asking it of myself. 

For those of you who don't already know this my original online ID was Cynical Chick. Yes, I was once one of those Emo kids and I don't think I ever really grew out of it if we're being a hundred percent honest, but some time around the age of 16 or 17 I decided that, or realised that, not sure which, a big part of my identity was being a writer, and so I created the original CharliesWrite blog, got a new email address, changed social media handles and since then I have been CharliesWrite on pretty much everything. Don't remember the moment it came to me, but it is a big part of who I am, despite the fact my dad has regularly got my email address wrong, called me CharlieWrites and emailed someone else random things like photos of flowers I bought my mum. It's fine; it's not like it's a big part of my identity or anything... 

Not that long after CharliesWrite became a thing, or I became CharliesWrite, or however you want to think of it really, I wrote Fairies and it was another thing that became a big part of my identity. It's kind of one of those Inside Out 'core memory' things, I guess. Now, maybe the reason it has stayed as such a big thing is because I haven't self-published anything else, but I think the fact that it was this whole other world that came out of my head was something massive, and it was the first thing I ever wrote that I felt truly comfortable letting other people read. Or as close to truly comfortable as I thought I was going to get, and have ever gotten. In some ways, CharliesWrite and Fairies are indivisible, and that's why most of my social media and online presence has me listed as being a 'fairies believer'. I've also used the term 'general cloud head' because I didn't know that I wasn't just a little helium balloon of a personality bobbing around and talking in a high pitch squeak. 

On a couple of occasions, I have been asked in earnest if I truly believe in fairies, and it's not a question that has a simple answer, because the truth is I don't know. 

Do I believe in fairies that paint rainbows and run the world? No, that was just fun to write.

Do I believe in fairies at the end of my garden? Well, I'm not someone who believes that they are definitely there, but I would be open to the possibility.

Do I believe in fairies at all? I guess what I believe in is the possibility of fairies. I think that's the best way to describe it.

In my teenage, emo era I was definitely someone who was philosophy mad and a staunch believer in science and only the things that we can evidence, but nothing is that black and white, is it? I thought evidence had to be something that could be measured, or seen down a microscope or telescope. I thought the only things that mattered were the tangible and then I did a bit of growing up and I realised that there is more to heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. He meant science, but I think it kind of applies to both. And yes, I realise that quoting Shakespeare makes me seem a bit like a pedantic pr*ck but it's important. 

I went to a Jesuit university, and there were a few lecturers that liked to teach badly. Actually, no, there was one. She had this habit of teaching the scientific arguments for things in such an awful way that then the religious (Catholic) arguments seemed to vastly overpower the scientific arguments and it was almost like trying to prove that all scientists were idiots and honestly it just made the religious arguments look even weaker to most of us. But then another lecturer explained St Thomas Aquinas to us, and it was all about how there's always something at the start of the domino trail (not how he phrased it, but some of the language is a bit archaic). If the dominos are things like evolution and the Big Bang, you trace your way back and there is this idea of In the beginning, there was nothing. And that could be the start of the Bible or any religious text, but it could also be the start of a textbook when we talk about the Big Bang, and essentially, something happened, and then the dominoes fell and here we are. Effectively, whatever that something is, that's what Aquinas called God. And honestly, I'm on board with that theory. From minute one, that made a lot of sense to me. 

That wasn't even a tangent; essentially, I believe in that, whilst not knowing what to believe in, but feeling pretty comfortable that there was something, that in our darkest moments (or our happiest) we look to something other worldly, and I don't know what that is, but there's nothing to say it isn't fairies. There's nothing to say that whatever that something is that it is an is, and not a was (as in there's nothing to say it still exists) but if leaving the wildflowers to grow for the fairies makes you happy or comfortable, if praying to something or someone is what works, or if feeling we're alone in the universe and nothing matters is your bag, then hey, you do you. Maybe that's not the belief in fairies that people would think I have, but maybe fairies were just a way to understand butterflies, because people couldn't understand something so beautiful without it being magic? I don't know. And unlike that much younger me, I'm actually very comfortable with not knowing, though that's not to say I wouldn't be curious to find out. Come on, it's me after all.

I was about to click save on this, and then realised I needed to add that Ben Folds wrote a song called Philosophy, and it's brilliant, and. the chorus is basically about how [your] philosophy is what keeps you grounded and keeps you going, and it's so true, and whilst I wouldn't say it completely doesn't matter what your philosophy is, because let's face it, there have been some pretty harmful ones, if it helps you without hurting others (and I don't mean just people getting offended because you believe in fairies and they think it's stupid), well, there's really no problem in that, is there?