STOP. Think. And Um.. Hammer Time.

I'm upset and anxious at the moment.

I need to move, and go somewhere a bit more peaceful. Without rats, or stupid people, or Pink Floyd playing loudly while I'm trying to write multiple essays.

Or burglaries, or permanently stoned flatmates, or crazy neighbours.

Yesterday a virus tried to attack my computer, I'm afraid that I took it rather personally.

I need to finish writing said essays..and start studying for exams.

I need to start eating properly instead of living off of toast, chicken soup and pears. And coffee.

I need to talk at my doctor until she hands me pills and tells me to shut up. Or just ask nicely.

Think.

About happy things.

I have an email to read, from a lovely person,

and a blanket to be wrapped in, and a used-to-be-pajamas-cushion with penguins and gold sequins (made by baby sis) to hug.

I can never understand why people sit on cushions, when they could be hugging them.

I hug cushions. A lot. Its comforting.

Tegan and Sara,

On Twitter,

And Youtube,

And in my ears.

I have trouser, no, bootleggy somethings from some of their shows, and I've turned the volume up loud enough to drown out my flatmates.

I only like loud music in headphones, so it's inside, instead of surrounding me.

Otherwise I feel panicy and like I can't really see properly.

Their voices still work almost as well as the drugs. They bring me down. Gently.

Anhorse to bring me up, T&S to bring me down..and a serotonin imbalance.

Telling Fran that I was going to go through my blog and change her name to Squiggle Baby.

And then watching her pull faces, and go "Urrgg..do you haaaaaave to". While I giggled.

Nighttime walks round the harbour..ending [of course] with the two us of playing on swings , whilst critiquing society. Squiggle knows about sociologist theories and terminology. I am good at making up words. And passing judgement.

Happening upon a group of Fire Performers (I think they are deserving of capitals) in the park, and watching them for almost an hour. Sitting in the icy-bite air.

Listening to other people talk politics, and somehow being interested.

Deciding that I should maybe read the newspaper, watch the news and form opinions about government policies.

Changing my mind ten minutes later. Boring.

I think it may have been the talker that was interesting. And not the politic-y part.

I am being careful though; I might just place her on a tiny pedestal, a not-very-high one, so she won't get hurt, if she falls off.

I am going to make a sandwich, and drink some herbal tea.

And study. Says responsible Beth.

Or, I might just sit here a while, staring at the wall. And listening to the voices in my head.

It's okay. they aren't the bad kind. They are meant to be there. I invited them.

They run up through wires and spin away into the dark.

There is something in the Oh.oh.Oh. Perhaps in the centre of the middle o.

Something small, I will tell you if I find it.