Tag Archives: panic

Go away anxiety! I’m busy(-ish)!

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I remember back in high school when my friends would ask me how on earth I stayed calm before tests or exams. The answer, unfortunately, was not magic. Rather, it was a curious of acknowledging the inevitable, compartmentalising and just good, ol’ plain not caring. That last bit especially has helped me through quite a lot of would-be panic inducing scenarios. See, the trick is, that if deep-down you are indifferent to the result then why should you stress over it. I invite students of psychology to tell me how many different levels of self-manipulation, denial and repression are involved in this.

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Ironically that also means that when I’m truly invested in something I…well….I over-prepare. And by that I mean, read every single scrap of information that I can find on the subject. Which eventually will lead me older and older stuff (posts, articles, book extracts… I don’t have a big library at my beck and call anymore, so it’s the terrifying depths of the internet that I turn to). Of course, anything older than two years needs to be take with a big, heaping tablespoon of salt, especially if it’s regulations-related. Doesn’t stop me from reading it. And then privately freaking out about contradicting sources.

But what is the current cause of the anxiety I bemoan up at the title line? Well, to put it briefly, paperwork. Tomorrow is my appointment at the US Consular Office to sort out my visa (and liven up, my so-far boring passport…). Here’s the problem, if it might be called so: I’ve done the prepwork that’s required (application, picture, payment, la-di-da…) and even crosschecked it with a fellow candidate AND the (not quite clear) instructions BA has provided us with. Everything that needs printing has been printed, all the papers I need to have with me are in their neat little folder, heck I’ve even picked out an outfit and worked out train timings! Explain to me then why for the past eight hours my brain has been kinda like….

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Rei on the outside, Usagi on the inside…

-sigh- This is finals all over again. To the best of my knowledge I’m perfectly prepared and (knowing me) will there way ahead of schedule…. There are zero things at my application that might lead to me being denied the visa. So why? What possible cause would my brain have to go down the Apocalypse Now route of scenarios? I sometimes joke that I panic over insignificant things so that when an actual crisis comes up, I’m all paniced-out and therefore able to focus. So maybe my subconscious has delegated this whole shebang under “not Earth-shatteringly important”?

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On top of that there is always the ever-present dilemma of buying the cabin bag I’ll need to get eventually now (when Debenhams has an absolutely beautiful sale going on…) and wreak further havoc to my budget or leave it for later and risk missing the sale and paying three times the amount. And of course some paperwork I need to complete for my medical exam on the 31st which I’ve been putting off solely because I despise filling out forms. They have a magical way of making me feel fifteen years younger than I actually am, and I am hardly old enough for that to mean “charmingly young”. (It’s more like “toddler”).

So yeah…unloading online it is. And probably working out until my joints feel like they made out of half-cooked dough… But on the bright side Infinity Wars’ trailer should be coming out soonish and all things Black Panther and Thor 3 so far look bloody gorgeous. Thank you Marvel for continuing to fire up my little fangirl heart!

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There’s no reason for this gif. I just find it hilarious!

 

-awkward wave-

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Um…hey everyone. I’m back. Um…not sure how long I’ll be able to keep the three-a-week schedule this time, but I’ll try. I mean, my load is a little lighter this semester, so I should be fine? We’ll see. At least I’m no longer in constant panic/too tired to function mode. Sure I’m not much better, but small steps, right?

At any case I have a few ideas on what to post here for the next few weeks  so it’s not like there’s going to be zero content-just rambles. (Or more accurately, I have the ideas but whether they will spawn an avalanche of text or barely a post each is up for debate. After my most recent essay marathon just looking at a keyboard blocks my willingness to type…) But on the subject of rambles and generally stream-of-consciousness posts, there’s definitely going to be more of those. Mostly because I’ve been recently told that dammit I need to talk to somebody before I explode (again. Long story.) and since anyone who has ever met me in person can attest to the fact that my ability to communicate verbally leaves much to be desired (partially because my default mode is “people have their own shit to deal with, I don’t need to add”), I’ll just have to get it out on (virtual) paper. No, I’m not going to go all Dear Diary to you. Just rant every now and then here so that I can continue to fool people in real life into thinking I’m a calm and collected adult. Usually. Hopefully. If there is literature involved. I’m not building a good case, am I?

While I’m writing this post, I’m also trying to sync my account on Bloglovin with zero success. According to them, my blog does not exist. Since I have 2+ years worth of posts that say otherwise, I will respectfully disagree. And according to Google and WordPress Support I’m not the only one with this problem. Unfortunately, the few solutions that don’t go along the “follow the instructions on the bloglovin website” line involve coding, htmls and other scary things that I only recognise as things to stay away from. Considering the love-hate relationship I have with all things computer, if I tried my hand on coding I’d break the internet. And I happen to like a lot of people online so I wouldn’t do this to them…. I don’t know… If anyone reads this and can give me idiot-proof instructions on how to deal with the problem, I will love you forever!

But Lia, you might say, your blog is tiny (and hardly active lately). Maybe bloglovin just couldn’t find you in the tangle mess of the interwebs. Yes, thank you snarky voice in my head and/or comment section. As a matter of fact I thought of that. And so I went of the main search bar of the site and looked myself up. And I did not exist. What did exist was a handy add-a-blog button which I used. And I still can’t find me. I don’t know, maybe it takes a few hours for the thing to go through? I’ll probably check again tomorrow, see if the gods of internet have decided to show mercy. Or call my, by far more, tech-savy brother. And the problem is not my RSS feed because I checked it and it’s valid. So there!

But isn’t this a great metaphor for my life currently? I have all these plans, all these good intentions (Hell has paved a whole new lane thanks to me…), all the willingness to work for my (largely unspecific) dreams and all I ask for is a chance. And a damn guidebook because gods now I’m taking shots in the dark here and hoping the bullets will not come back to be. Yes, I know I’m neither the first not the last to be in this position and you know what? NO! I’m not going to grin, nod and accept that as an answer. I will happily acknowledge that this yet another part of the whole growing up charade but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to sit here and accept that just because my age group doesn’t (mostly) have a frigging clue on where they are going, we cannot have any help. Screw being independent! If I want somebody to take me by the hand and show me the ropes then maybe I should have one.

Universities like to wax poetic on their student support schemes and career development plans and what have you and while I applaud the initiative, I can’t help feeling I’m not the only one finishing their degree and not knowing where to find a paycheck. I chose an undergraduate and postgraduate degree on a subject I love because even as an eighteen-year-old I knew myself well enough to know that I wouldn’t make it long in a career path I was indifferent to (even if it meant a certain job). So here I am with an English degree under my belt and one on the making and next to zero tangible job experience because let me tell you (and I’m not joking now), literature is mentally exhausting. You know all those things you read and wonder, “How do they do that?” I’ll tell you how: hours pouring other people’s work on top of your own writing and world building and scenario exploring. Even my silly little fanfics have an insane amount of backstage work. For every scene or line committed to paper there’s three variants rejected or altered or even saved for future reference. If you want to write good, you need to know everything there is to know about the world you’re playing with, and the same goes to analysing someone else’s work. When I’ve spent seven hours at the library doing background reading on top of my coursework, I don’t have the mental fortitude (or the energy really, library marathons mean less cooking time means less of a chance to eat properly on a regular basis) to go out job hunting. Still, I would GLADLY scrounge the energy to pull a shift or five if someone. would. just. give. me. a. chance. When even the simplest retail job demands experience (even in-university or placements that supposedly are there to help us gain experience) and you know for a fact that you only have to show a measly CV and a shy smile…well, you sorta know your chances are next to nil. Of course they will prefer the experienced person because, come on! Who can be bothered with showing the ropes to a newbie?

I used to joke with some of my friends that when we all inevitably fail to find jobs we should just open a coffee shop together. If I had the capital, that would be my Plan A. As it is, what I do have is a very uncertain future, the understanding that my passions lie on the oft-marginalised Humanities and a terrible case of panic. There are things you cannot study for, cannot possibly prepare for and really would it be so hard if someone, just once, bothered to tell us when we are little that it’s ok to not know what you’re doing, it’s no shame to want to study what you love just because you want to learn more, not in order to get a job. I wish I could be paid to read, write and talk about mythology and the sagas and the Arthurian stories and medieval romances and poetry and all those things that most disregard as useless or irrelevant without even realising how much they have affected the “modern” way of thinking. I wish I could just find a job so that I didn’t lose sleep over how I’m going to support myself from the summer on. I wish it would be more than nominally accepted that not everyone works on the same speed and the fact that I didn’t feel ready to dive right in the job market when I was twenty doesn’t mean that I’m lazy or out of touch with reality or immature or whatever it is that employers think they skim through a two-page CV with little in terms of references and plenty in terms of hopeful willingness to help. I wish….I wish…I wish….

Most of all I wish someone would give me a chance.

Y is for “You said EIGHT, NOT NINE!”

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Oh the terror! Oh the stress!

Oh the indescribable tragedy!

There was a mishap in the invites,

Now the guests are early.

The food’s not done,

I am not dressed,

The place is still a mess!

 

I’m going to kill him,

He had ONE job,

Somehow he botched it.

Time to bring the bottles out,

Hope this will distract them.

Where did my other shoe go?

Is that the doorbell again?

 

Being a hostess is such fun.

Tiring and panicky, but fun.

It’s only once a year anyhow,

I can handle that!

 

Merry Christmas everyone!

K is for Kings

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Kings? Where did that come from? When I was growing up, I knew them as Mages. Which makes a lot more sense if you think about it… What do we know about them anyway? They’re rich, they have a penchant for astronomy and astrology, really loose lips and they come from an exotic country. I suppose they could be actual kings but then again, if they were, would they be able to travel on their own? Don’t think so. Granted the Bible tends to be minimalistic when it comes to details of the non-deeply symbolic variety and they seemed pretty chummy with Herod…Nah! I’m gonna stick with my childhood version. They were Mages. It’s cooler. I mean come on! In that era’s literature royalty was either absolute scumbags or absolute bores. Those of the –shall we say- metaphysical persuasion at least have the ambiguous, whence-hast-thy-power-cometh-from working for them.

 

Loving how these posts swing between honest-to-goodness Christmas things to me panicking about my essay. In my book it’s part of the festive season, but I’m almost done, so, please, be patient with me.