Freakouts, frozen food and The Final Cut


I’ve been quietly freaking out since I got out of bed around 2pm. My traitorous brain is on full frontal assault today, no stealth tactics.

I think I’m anxious about my first meeting tomorrow with the psychologist but I’m not sure. I tried some guitar practice, got angry at myself for still not being able to play a C chord and started getting wound up. So I went downstairs to make a sandwich, felt a bit shaky so I figured if I get some food inside me I’ll have more energy and get some decent practice in. I knew I had some nice cheese and some of those quorn fake meat smoked ham style slices (which are lush) in the fridge.

Wait did I say fridge? No, I meant freezer, because my dumb ass put them in the freezer last night when I brought them back from the supermarket. They are not supposed to be frozen, it kinda, ruins them completely. When I discovered this I got an immensely loud cry in my head of “You fucking idiot, look what you’ve gone and done” and that was me off down the rabbit hole. The self deprecating voice, which I have named McCunt, is pretty loud today.

I spent about thirty minutes in the kitchen pacing back and forth, deriding myself for such a stupid act, trying to retrace the steps I took to make such a dumbass mistake. Then realised that the tea bag I had left brewing in the mug had been there for the entire time I was pacing around, the tea was ruined too. That was another thing for the voice to pick up on, and oh boy did he ever: “Not only did you ruin your sandwich filling material but you wasted all that boiled water and a poor defenceless tea bag! Haha, you dick”.

Cue another twenty minutes or so of frantic fretting.

Which brings us to now. I’ve calmed down a bit, thanks to music. Music is usually the only thing other than illegal drugs that can settle me and allow me to try and reorganise my thoughts into a less negative framework. That’s why I want to learn how to play the guitar, I’m sure it would work wonders for my self esteem and give me something to do other than getting stoned when I need to chill out. It just sucks that over thirty something years I’ve trained my hands to be in this position:

handsCan’t play a C chord but can devastate on Mario Kart

…which makes fretting quite difficult as I cannot stretch my fingers enough. Oh well, practice makes perfect I guess, it’s just finding the will to practice that’s the problem, plus not getting angry at myself for not being Jimmy Hendrix after ten minutes practice.

Here’s the album that calmed me down, The Final Cut by Pink Floyd (although essentially a Waters solo album lyrically, it’s still a great anti-war concept album). Time to go play some videogames.



I write nonsense so you don't have to. Although you can if you want...

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