Month: June 2012

Can you tell what it is yet?!

A few days ago the lovely Sailor asked me to draw a picture of a bird and then post it on my blog. I’m not very good at drawing things but she did ask very nicely so I said I would despite my misgivings about making a fool of myself on the Internet*

Did I mention that I’m not very good at drawing? I can describe what something looks like pretty well but I can’t seem to put it into an actual picture – I guess that’s just the way my brain works**. So, because I had no idea how to draw a bird I set myself the challenge of learning how to draw one using the interweb and the materials available in my flat. The materials available in my flat were:

  • A4 narrow ruled paper
  • 4 flip chart markers in assorted colours***
  • 2 highlighter pens also in assorted colours
  • A pencil

Anyway the long and the short of it is that I am pleased to report I have now learnt how to draw a bird (but please do note that I have not, by any stretch of the imagination, learnt to do it well).

Here it is:

I’m quite pleased with myself even though it is a bit rubbish because it does vaguely resemble a bird/woodpecker (to me at least).There will be no further adventures in art from me but I did rather enjoy this one because I’m simple like that.

Ta ta for now, Wee Gee x

 

*More accurately, I had misgivings about making a fool of myself on the Internet again

**I don’t think this is anything to do with being mental though

***I say assorted colours. There were actually three. And I’m not sure why I have flip chart markers in my flat because there are definitely no flipcharts.

A game to play

Funny how things sometimes turn up at the most opportune moment isn’t it? Yesterday I promised that I would write a better post today but then I got to today found the whole flat and empty thing continuing. I had no inspiration whatsoever and I was just starting to think I’d have to break my promise when Hello Sailor popped up and tagged me in a very exciting game of tag. I’m still quite new to blogging, so you’ll have to forgive my excitement here, but this whole game of tag thing? I totally love it!

Rules

  1. You must post the rules
  2. Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post
  3. Create eleven new questions to ask the people you’ve tagged
  4. Tag (eleven) people with a link to your post
  5. Let them know they’ve been tagged

Here are my answers to the questions posed by Hello Sailor:

1. Do you think you could survive a zombie apocalypse and if so what would be your weapon of choice? If there was a zombie apocalypse I’d shit my pants and then probably hide in the wardrobe. I’d only survive if the zombies didn’t think to look in the wardrobe or if chucking miscellaneous items of clothing was enough to scare the zombies off*.

2. If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be? Okay. So I’m assuming I don’t have to worry about nutrition? I’m tempted to say balsamic vinegar because it’s one of my favourite things in the world but you really have to eat it with something else (preferably olive oil and bread) to get the full effect and I’d probably get fed up with just balsamic vinegar on its own. Plus, technically I would have to drink it so I don’t think it would count anyway. The second thing that comes to mind is a full English breakfast but I’m worried that might not count because it’s more than one thing. I also really like pickled onions, Milano salami and cheese but, much like balsamic vinegar, they don’t work so well alone. Anyway…. having weighed up all the options** I’ve decided I’m going to live on the crunchy loveliness of sea salt and balsamic vinegar kettle chips for the rest of my life. Because I love them and because it means I won’t have to miss out on balsamic vinegar altogether.

3. Do you think Noah had woodpeckers on the ark? If he did, where did he keep them? Noah must have had woodpeckers on the ark because I don’t think he was mean enough to leave them behind just because they were a bit noisy and might sink his boat. I expect he wrapped their beaks up in cotton wool or something soft like that and let them think they were pecking away when really they were just banging their heads against the wall***

4. If space flight was affordable, would you go, just because you could? Do you know, I don’t think I would. I like the idea but a) I’m not very good in small spaces (like spaceships for example) and b) sometimes I get someplace and decide that I want to go home IMMEDIATELY. I don’t suppose you can change your mind like that once you get to space.

5. Would you very kindly draw me a picture of a bird and post it on your blog so I can add to my collection? Oh no…. this one has made my blood run cold because I’m really not very good at drawing. At all. Can I have some extra time to do this part of the homework please Sailor?  It’ll probably take me like a squillion attempts and then it still won’t be very good. But, as it’s you, I will try my best.

6. Do you think unicorns exist? My take on unicorns is almost the same as my take on God. No-one can prove that they exist but no-one can prove that they don’t; which in my book means they might. The only difference (to me) between unicorns and god is that I kinda hope that unicorns do exist but I don’t really mind about God but not in a blasphemous way****.

7. Why doesn’t Tarzan have a beard? Were there razors in the jungle? Erm… who says Tarzan doesn’t have a beard:

8. How old do you think you would be if you didn’t know how old you are? Well. I think I would be the age I am now even if I didn’t know what age I was. Then again it would probably be quite easy to convince me I was a different age if I didn’t know what age I was. But double then again it wouldn’t matter what age I thought I was because I would still definitely be the age I am even if I didn’t know what age I was or if I thought I was a different age. My head hurts.

9. Will you be joining me on my boat when I win the lottery? Sounds fantabulous to me if you’ll have me. I’m not very big and I’m good at tidying up so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. But I might have to bring my cat and he’s quite special. That okay?

10. What makes you, you?

All the stuff that ever happened and all the stuff that will; all the books I ever read and all the songs I ever heard*****; everybody I ever met and everything they said to me. Oh, and the fact that I’m not very big (meaning you’d hardly notice me on a boat) and I’m good at tidying things up (especially boats). Did me and Gryff make it onto your boat?

11. Did you like my questions?

I loved your questions apart from the one that made my head hurt.

*It might seem unlikely but you haven’t seen some of the fashion disasters I’ve had over the years

**As you can see, I’m taking this game quite seriously

***I am familiar with this feeling

****I’m so going to hell

*****Even the really crap ones like Candle in the wind

Here are my eleven questions:

  1. What’s the best advice you’ve ever been given?
  2. Are you a dog person, a cat person, or some-other-kind-of-animal person?
  3. What is your opinion of mushrooms?*
  4. Could you recommend a good book please?
  5. What’s your motto?
  6. Is it okay to lie to spare somebody’s feelings?
  7. What’s the best thing about blogging?
  8. Could you tell me a joke or share something funny?
  9. Is there something that you don’t like but wish that you did?
  10.  What would you do if you found a ferret in the street?**
  11.  What should I ask if I really want to get to know you?***

*I personally think that they are evil

**I ask for a reason

***For future reference

And here are the bloggers I’m tagging (note to people I’m tagging, no need to feel obliged to take part I just thought it was good fun)

Adverse Universe

Nothing in my noggin

Hello Sailor (sorry but I do so want to hear your answers!)

The Quiet Borderline

Garry Williams Blog

Minutiae

Anxiery Adventures

Alma204

The Mirth of Despair

Undoing Crazy

Another Battle

A post about nothing followed by a lame joke

I hope you won’t mind but I really need to get this out of my head. I’ve been swimming around in it for a few days now and I’m tired. Before I go any further I should say that this is a post about suicidal feelings. Reading about suicidal feelings isn’t everybody’s cup of tea so you may prefer to sit this one out.

Let me be frank* I wish I was dead but, just to muddy the waters, I also don’t want to wind up dead. Makes perfect sense, eh?

For a very long time I’ve had a strong feeling that I’m not going to live to be an old person. I don’t know where it comes from or when it started I just know that it’s there and that it sits in my head. It’s one of the many things on the list of things that Wee Gee will never do for one reason or another**. I mentioned it to Mr Friendly once but he just thought it was a) sad and b) silly. It’s one of those residual feelings that never really goes away. And then I have a few days like the few days just past and it becomes clear to me that it isn’t silly at all because the longer I live, the more likely it is that I won’t live to be an old person. And yes, I know that statement makes no sense whatsoever except in my head.

I don’t often think about suicide – I sometimes go to bed willing myself not to wake up, but that’s a different thing altogether – and I don’t make plans to take my own life. By all accounts that should mean that everything is fine and dandy but it doesn’t.

The thing is it doesn’t matter that I don’t think about it, plan to do it, or want to do it; what matters is that once in a while I just snap and decide to try and do it. Thus far I have always been okay but one of these days I’m going to wake up dead and to say that would be an unmitigated disaster is something of an understatement.

Saturday was one of those days. It was a day of nothing – you know the days when nothing matters, nothing makes sense and everything feels like nothing? Nothing is the thing that I struggle to deal with the most of all – it’s unspeakably heavy and just as loud. Nothing is the reason that I do so many of the things I do to hurt myself and is the thing that sends me into hiding. Some people seem to think that having nothing on your mind is a good thing, but I wonder if those people really understand what nothing feels like? Waking up in the morning to find that everything that was your head yesterday – the little plans, the promises you make to yourself, the things you like, the stuff you care about – has fallen into a giant hole of nothingness taking you with it is no fun at all.

I’ve tried very hard to work out where nothing comes from and what happens to make it rise up and take over but I just can’t figure it out. Sometimes I think there must be a little chink of nothing at the heart of me that has to come up for air every so often, that I’m simply built around nothing and that I am empty at my core even if I pretend not to be. That’s when I jump off the cliff because I might get well enough to get out of bed without thinking about it, to banish the maddies, the jitters, fanatical food stuff and all the other crazy nonsense but I’ll never get well enough to fill the nothing up and it’s the nothing I can’t live with.

I don’t know when or why nothing is going to strike which makes it hard to go about keeping myself as safe. I’ve got my safety plan and I try to follow it to the letter but, in the grip of nothing I find it quite easy to stray from the plan and end up in all kinds of trouble. Bottom line of all this is that I’m mostly terrified of myself which is absolutely exhausting. I’m afraid I’m going to go and do something that I won’t live to regret without even meaning to do it.

Phew. It’s all getting a bit heavy here. Somebody should tell a joke…… Okay, I’ll do it: Q What’s invisible and smells of carrots? A. Rabbit farts. Boom boom {hangs head in shame}

Meanwhile in other news I slept right through until 6am this morning and I worked out that I spend about £300 a year on purchasing beverages from the coffee bar at work today. Nothing further to add save that I did squeeze a couple of asterisks in, so things must be looking up despite the rather gloomy nature of this post.  Oh. And I’m writing this in my lunch hour at FOUR O’CLOCK IN THE AFTERNOON.

Sorry about this one folks – the next will be better, promise.

Take care, Wee Gee x

 

*Whenever someone says that I can’t resist saying ‘okay… who shall I be’?

**Other things on the list of things Wee Gee will never do: get married, have children, understand why anyone would voluntarily eat a mushroom

Down with the kids

I’m a little lacking in inspiration today. Truth told, I’ve been a little bit lacking in inspiration all weekend which is why I’ve had nothing to say for myself. Everything’s feeling flat and empty for me at the moment, like someone stole my brain and replaced it with cotton wool. I bet you can’t wait to read this one.

What can I tell you about this weekend then? I have continued to wake up at ridiculous o’clock, in fact, I’ve now seen 4am 4 days running. Sadly I haven’t been leading the kind of rock ‘n roll life that statement might imply – it’s more a case of being up with the mentals than being down with the kids. How life changes…. The thing about four o’clock in the morning is that there isn’t actually anything to do. I guess that’s why most people have the good sense to be asleep. Still, to put a positive spin on it I have used the time wisely and read the Internet. All of it.

Who knows what this waking up at ridiculous o’clock is all about. I guess it must be the medication which is also causing me to have some particularly vivid dreams – I feel like it really happened, and it’s mundane enough to have really happened so at the moment I have this odd sensation that I can’t be sure what actually happened. Does that make sense? Anyway, as far as I can tell I appear to be achieving a whole new level of dementedness that I didn’t even know existed.

Did I mention that the jitters have mostly passed? Well they have. The only time I ‘go a bit weird’ now is when someone creeps up on me, which happens reasonably often. It’s not that people are in the habit of deliberately creeping up on me, it’s just that I work in a very long office with my back to the door so people often appear without me noticing them on the approach. And then I jump right out of my skin and squeal in a comedy fashion. Nevertheless I’m glad to be mostly rid of the jitters  – I find that being flat and empty is much easier to manage than all that bonkers jittery stuff.

Saturday was a gruesome day for me. I spent the evening teetering on the edge of the cliff thinking about jumping off. I think my brain is trying to murder me which is a royal pain in the backside because I don’t especially want to be dead. Gawd only knows what I’ve done to deserve this from something which, by rights, should be fairly attached to the idea of me not being dead but there you go. The main point is that I didn’t wake up dead on Sunday so I make that Wee Gee: 1 Brain: 0. Round two will doubtless follow at an unspecified interval. Pah!

Sunday was about putting things back together after Saturday, buying a replacement hairdryer after my existing went pop and started making a horrid burning smell and watching a soccerball match that I didn’t care about because a) I’m Scottish and b) I just didn’t.

It’s Monday today and Project Rubbish has kicked off in more ways than one. Turns out The Man Who Knows is not the project sponsor and he does not like it one bit, primarily because he is The Man Who Knows who knows everything about everything. He’s sulking and refusing to talk to anyone at the moment which makes this whole working together thing difficult to achieve. What a giant arsehole. He is so getting a poke in the eye some time soon.

Meanwhile in other news I think somebody lied to me on Saturday – a pause before an answer and then a comment later on that didn’t stack up. This person had no reason to lie to me and, more to the point, I have no reason to care that they lied to me but they did lie and I do care which means I have to work out how I feel about it. I hate having to work out how I feel about stuff.

I’ve nothing further to add today save that I haven’t included a single asterisk in my post which is a shame. I’ve tried to remedy it, I really have, but I’m coming up with zilch. I guess that’s just the kind of day it is today.

Tatty bye

Wee Gee x

This is really happening, isn’t it?

I don’t really like Radiohead anymore – I lost interest somewhere around OK Computer – but I do really like this song. I think it sounds like how I feel a lot of the time:

The line in the song that goes ‘this is really happening’ is a notion that strikes me every now and then, usually in the wee small hours when I can’t sleep and there’s nowhere to hide from all the things that are happening in my head. Sometimes I feel incredulous about it all because how very dare this be happening in my head, but most of the time I feel frightened because this is really happening and what if I can’t figure out how to make it quieten down again?

I had 11 whole years when I didn’t have to struggle very hard with myself. I had to struggle a little bit because I don’t think the voices* ever go away you just get better at answering them back, or ignoring them, or both. I think of my difficulties as a dark passenger** because they are always there at my side. I’ve carried my dark passenger everywhere I’ve ever been – sometimes it’s heavy and sometimes it isn’t so heavy; sometimes it’s almost silent and sometimes it’s very, very loud; sometimes it looks out the window as we travel and sometimes it takes over the driving.

For the past year or so my dark passenger has been in the driving seat and I’ve had to struggle very hard with myself. Compared to the 11 years where I wasn’t struggling much, the past year feels like it’s lasted for a lifetime. Sometimes, I get sick and tired of it all and I just wish that all the nonsense would disappear out of my head. Other times, I remember that it will never disappear completely and so I start to wonder what the point of struggling very hard with yourself just so you don’t have to struggle very hard with yourself is. Right now is one of those other times.

Today I feel a bit small and insignificant and, above all else, frightened. I’m wondering what would happen if I just stopped struggling and gave my brain over to the darkness. I don’t much like being in the dark, but I can’t help thinking it’d probably be a little easier on me.

Still, tomorrow I’ll be all brave again. Thoughts pass eventually because that is their way.

Wee Gee x

 

 

*I should point out to you that over the years I have learned that you need to be very careful when you’re talking about the ‘voices in your head’.

**If anyone watches Dexter, mine is not at all like that dark passenger – just for the avoidance of doubt!

That joke isn’t funny anymore

First up, I love the Smiths. So here are the Smiths singing ‘That joke isn’t funny anymore*’

I’m not an earnest person. In fact I’m probably whatever the opposite of earnest is. I don’t take anything particularly seriously, which by the way, is not to say that I’m irresponsible or feckless**.

I laugh a lot (more often than not at myself), I poke a lot of fun at things (again, more often than  not at myself) and I tell a lot of jokes – not knock-knock, boom-boom type jokes though; I always mess the punch lines of those up. I like funny things – not necessarily shiny-happy-people funny things, but funny things nonetheless***. Maybe that doesn’t sound like somebody who suffers from depression, but I’m yet to find the rule that says somebody with a mental health problem has to have a compulsory sense of humour bypass.

I often make a joke of my mental health difficulties because they are quite heavy enough without me adding a ten tonne weight by being oh-so-serious about them. That’s not to say I don’t know that they’re serious, or that  I think it’s funny being me: they are and it isn’t – I think I try to use humour  to get a bit of perspective when it feels like the sky is falling in. To be honest, I think laughing at myself might just have saved my life, so, in celebration of that fact, I’m going to end  this post by telling you something that I thought was funny…..

Last night I was having a ‘bit of a moment’. I knew I was heading for trouble because I started doing the whole pacing/curling up in  a ball thing. Thankfully I was mindful. I tried to find somewhere to put the thoughts, but the ‘shelf of stuff Wee Gee can’t think about’ was full so I decided to distract myself with something positive by writing a list of ‘all the reasons Wee Gee has to be cheerful’. In reality, there are a few reasons for me to be cheerful but last night the single solitary thing that I could think of to put on my list was:

“I don’t have one of those stupid Jimmy Hill moon shaped chins”

Why on earth did I think of that?! Where did it even come from?! It’s not as though I’ve anything against people with moon shaped chins by the way…..

Anyway.  I gave up making the list and I didn’t do any more of that pacing/curling up in a ball thing.

Take care, Wee Gee x

*Granted, it isn’t the most cheery song in the world, even by the Smiths’ standards, but it is at least marginally more chipper than ‘Last night I dreamed somebody loved me’ and ‘I know it’s over’….

**All of the time

***I like to think I am witty and rye**** but I might just be sarcastic and sneering.

****Of course I meant wry. I was just testing you there. Ahem 😉

I did not see that one coming

Okay, so the first thing I should say is that this post discusses self harm. If you think that might put you in a dangerous place please look away now, because it’s important to everybody that everybody stays safe.

{Pause to allow people to look away now}*

The second thing to say is that I’m currently on step number three of the safety plan**. I used to have three ‘real’ people I could communicate with if I thought I was in a risky situation: Mr Wise, Mr Hilarious and Mr Friendly, but now I’ve added my blog to the list of ‘people it is safe to communicate with’. The aforementioned Mr’s*** are otherwise engaged, and (as daft as it sounds) I’m not in the right place for crisis intervention so I’m writing this post in an attempt to communicate all this crazy stuff out of my head.

{Pause for a few deep breaths}

Here’s what happened. I sat down to write a post (it’s a funny story about me at a party so I’ll probably get round to posting it another time) and then I had a nosebleed. A proper, massive, wouldn’t stop nosebleed.

I don’t think I’ve had a proper, massive, wouldn’t stop nosebleed since I was about twelve years old and although I know it should have been a tad distressing, I actually really liked it. I liked it because all that bright red blood on a white tissue felt like the most sensible, meaningful thing on earth and I thought to myself that if my nose stops bleeding there would still be lots of other ways to get back to the most sensible and meaningful thing on earth.

I haven’t cut myself since last November. I didn’t really remember doing it but the evidence suggested that I made a pretty serious attempt to actually cut one of my legs off. To be fair, that was an isolated incident and it’s a very long time since each morning has been about working out what I’d done the day before with reference to the bloody rags and sharp implements scattered around me. I was in an awful, painful place, I have some pretty hideous scars and would do anything, anything, anything to go back in time and make it not happen. So why should it make any sense whatsoever to think that slicing myself open and watching the blood ooze out is the answer to a question that I haven’t even worked out yet?

Nowadays, I tend to work on the assumption that I am a grown up, and that I have therefore found grown up, subtle ways to hurt myself. As if that’s some kind of achievement! I know it’s a load of blinking rubbish, because most grown-ups don’t spend any time what-so-bloody-ever thinking about hurting themselves. What’s this thing about hurting myself even more than I’m already hurting? What’s this thing about bright red blood on white tissues? Roar, roar and triple roar. Can I start again please?

I’m sorry if this one is a bit rambling, but it was more about getting thoughts out of my brain than achieving a coherent post…..

Meanwhile in other news I have managed three meals and a trip to the outside world today, and my cat has just about got used to the new voile panel in our flat. Oh. And I went to a party yesterday.

Take care, Wee Gee x

*I hope you won’t think I’m being flippant because I’m really not – it’s just my way.

**At the moment my number one mission in life is to be well enough to be able to cope without a safety plan.

***I know perfectly well that Mr’s is not an ideal use of the apostrophe, but according to the OED style guide it is acceptable to use an apostrophe to ensure clarity of meaning. If I’d put Mrs it would have looked like I meant a married lady person, rather than the plural of Mr. (What can I say? I’m the grammar police so I’m getting my alibi in early….)

Wrong again, Wee Gee

I’m not okay at the moment, and I know I’m not okay because I am doing a very good job of pretending to be okay. It seems to me that the less okay I am, the better I get at pretending to be okay and I think this might be yet another way that my brain has found of doing exactly the opposite of what’s expected of it. Pah!

On the surface, I suppose things aren’t too bad. I’m eating enough and sleeping enough to mean that I only need to apply a half tonne of blusher before I can leave the flat without fear of frightening small children; the bills are paid and the post is being opened; there are groceries in the fridge; I’m keeping appointments and taking my meds; I’m clean and my flat’s clean; I’ve done nothing to hurt myself for a few weeks; I’m sober. But inside, it’s all just wrong. I really can’t think of a better way to put it – wrong pretty much covers it. I’ve tried explaining ‘wrong’ to all kinds of people before – friends, family, doctors, counsellors and once a bloke I met in a pub* – but people don’t seem to be able to get it. They want to know ‘what’s’ wrong and all I can say is that ‘it’s just wrong’.

Apart from feeling wrong I’m still a jumpy, jittery mess and I don’t like being jumpy and jittery. It’s the opposite of what being me is usually like and I feel kind of dangerous with it. Feeling like you want to smash your whole world up is manageable when all you have the energy to do is lie face down on the bed, but when you’re wired and full of restlessness you begin to be afraid of what you’ll do next. Energy and thoughts of flinging yourself under a bus really don’t mix too well together, do they? Does that make any sense at all? Or have I gone ‘wrong’ again?!

If I’m honest there’s also whole lot of stuff that I need to work out – how I feel about some stuff and what I’m going to do about some other stuff – but I can’t seem to work any of it out with the world continuing apace around me. A bit of a breather would be just super right now, so if anybody out there has worked out a magic way of making the world stop for a little while, I’d be forever grateful if you could let me know. In the meantime I’m going to listen to Belle and Sebastian singing about stopping the world, because I want to and because I can…..

Lots of love from (a slightly overwhelmed and tired) Wee Gee x

*It wasn’t one of my finest hours

Lots of loveliness (an award? Who moi?)

While I was in Nottingham Hello Sailor went and nominated me for the One Lovely Blog award. I’ve not been blogging for very long so I’m really touched to have been nominated, plus, this one is super exciting because I get to share seven random things about myself. Hurrah!

Step one is to thank the blogger who nominated you:

Dear Hello Sailor. I proper love reading your blog because it is truly one of the most fab blogs ever. Thank you very, very, very much for nominating me for this award – it has made be smile and right now that is a BIG achievement. I’d have liked to nominate you back, but I thought that was a bit weird. Love and kisses Wee Gee x

Step two is to share seven things about myself:

Here are seven things about me which may, or may not be very interesting depending on your take on things:

1. I was hit by a Double Decker bus and lived to tell the tale. Not only did I live to tell the tale I would have stood up and walked away if the nice paramedic man hadn’t forbidden me to stand up.

2. I was the head girl at my school which is a rather unlikely achievement for so many reasons, but not least because I was a full blown comedy mentalist at the time.

3. Some of my friends rather hilariously refers to me as ‘the three degrees’ because I have three degrees.

4. I become obsessive about things and therefore have an ever growing list of things to obsess about. The current list includes: Frank Turner, Crime Watch, Monk, Dexter, Blogging, my new voile panel, making guacamole and eating manuka honey.

5. I’m Scottish but I don’t speak with a Scottish accent unless a) I’m speaking to someone who also has a Scottish accent or b) I feel like it. Part b allows me to confound people at will.

6. I have had the same iron since 1997 and it works perfectly well thank you very much.

7. I don’t do a lot of ironing.

Step three is to nominate ten blogs you admire:

It took me a while to whittle it down to ten but in the end I settled on the list below. I’m nominating these blogs in particular because I admire them (obviously) and also because I thought it would be a good way of thanking the bloggers in question for writing such lovely blogs for me to read. Some are funny, some are sad; some are brave, some are vulnerable; some remind me of who I used to be, some of who I am now, and some make me think about who I want to be when I grow up; all are marvellous in their own special way.

Anyway, in no particular order, here are the blogs I’ve chosen:

1. Sparrow in the snow
2. Its a beautiful disaster
3. Another battle
4. Halfway between the gutter and the stars
5. Anxiety adventures
6. Diary of the princess of tides
7. Everything but the kitchen sink
8. Struggling with the elephant in the room
9. Pialosophy
10. Adverse Universe

That’s all from me folks.

Take care, Wee Gee x

Goodreads book review – The Alchemist

The AlchemistThe Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

It seems that everybody has read the Alchemist and it seems also, that everybody loves it. For my part, I can at least say that I have read it now.

When I started reading this book I thought I was going to love it. It seemed sweet and simple and quite enchanting but as I continued reading the sweetness became a bit sickly and the simplicity a bit insulting.

Perhaps it’s me, but I can’t accept the idea that everybody has a destiny and that to achieve it all you need to do is listen to your heart. For a start, it’s all well and good if your destiny is love or happiness or untold treasures but what if your destiny is to be always hungry, or always in pain, or, for example, to be raped and murdered during a civil war or to be tortured to death by your government….. Should you also follow your heart towards these things? Or is the idea that terrible things only happen to people because they didn’t listen to their hearts? As far as I can see fate and destiny just don’t stack up when you start to think about them logically.

Aside from having a problem with the premise of the book, I also found the Alchemist a bit flat: the characters are flat, the scenery is flat and the narrative is flat; the ending is one of the flattest, laziest and most disappointing I’ve ever come across. I wanted to love this novel – I really did – but in the end it left me feeling a bit irritated and underwhelmed.

In conclusion, I suppose I’m just too cynical for fate, destiny and the Alchemist.

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