I don't always have either the energy or the inclination to involve myself in other people's lives - particularly when it requires being in the same room as them, because it makes them far trickier to switch off. Having the freedom and distraction of the World Wide Web is an acceptable compromise: and one that presents my mind with the opportunities my body is otherwise so fatigued by. To have that connection severed serves as a reminder of how addicted to online entertainment I actually am, and how limited I would be if I were without it for long. I'd either have to interact with the real world more than I like to, or closet myself away like an embittered hermit-luddite. I'd hate either option, and as the M.E often affords me an unfortunate propensity for apathy, I think I would probably begin with the former choice, but soon descend into the isolated second option.
I say that the apathy is "unfortunate" - but it has also been beneficial, in an odd sort of a way. Because I don't have the energy for grand emotion, I have managed to avoid too many extremes of temperament. I think that's why I have never been terribly depressed by the illness - it's because I can't care as much as I probably should. I accept it because anything else would require too much effort. Even with my recent technological troubles, I was frustrated and did have a few minor temper tantrums where I considered tossing the laptop out of the window: but to actually get terribly cross with it would require me to apply myself - show some dedication to the infuriation - and I surrender to apathy long before I reach such levels of temper.
Speaking of surrender, I may have to accept a little assistance with my mobility again for a while. Although I am healthier since my weight stabilized, the effort of recovery from last year has taken it's toll and this flare in severity of the M.E is proving somewhat stubborn. I'm accustomed to the joint pain and fortunate that it doesn't affect my mobility as it does some people (I've known others of my age with M.E who walk like pensioners crippled with arthritis. I've never had that problem.) My trouble is weakness when I'm exhausted, and of course the complications with my back (after the medication I was on as a child damaged my spine). Anyway, I think it may be necessary to call my old physiotherapy department and get a pair of crutches again to stabilise me a bit. Falling over because of my daft shoes would be embarrassing enough, but hitting the deck because I am just pathetic and knackered is unacceptable! If I must have crutches for a bit then it will be under one condition: that I may spray-paint them black and use a gold marker pen to detail them. I am undecided if I would decorate them with a sort of combination-animal-print, or if I will copy a designer logo such as the intertwined Fendi 'F' or the little symbols synonymous with Louis Vuitton.
Alternately, I have toyed with the idea of leaving them sprayed black - and only using the gold marker to detail the screws etc - and then attaching coloured voile scarves to them like rock stars do with their mic stands - a la Steven Tyler of Aerosmith.
Tyler and the veils:
Not convinced about that idea yet, as I would need to change them to match whatever I was wearing because I am obsessive compulsive about colour. It's either a side affect of being creative or just another sign that I am a little mad, but I even have to change my jewellery in the evening to match my nightwear. I'm so OCD about colours that if I am wearing bottle-green Russian Diopside pieces, and about to change into a lilac chemise, then I have to take the gems off before I change. Then, once I am redressed, I can then wear something complimentary such as a tanzanite ring. I think that's why I love my plain gold and diamond pieces - because they require less careful attention to insane detail!
I paint a terribly screwed up picture of myself, in a bonkers-and-broken way, but I really am neurotic about colour and style. It's because I have to be if I am to design with any flair. I must notice the shapes and tones of the world that others overlook if I am to create fine works myself. It's as much of a handicap as it has been an advantage though. I was taking my nail varnish off in the ridiculously early hours of this morning, because it didn't match my sleepwear and I couldn't ignore it any longer. I was testing myself, and I lasted three hours before it bugged me so much that I had to get rid of it.
I am aware of how incredibly stupid that all is, by the way. I'm not naive to my eccentricities, but as they are usually benign I am reasonably happy to ignore them. At least I'm not certifiably mental. While watching last weeks edition of Have I Got News For You - and trying not to shout at my computer again - I learned of the peculiar story of a Swedish woman who married the Berlin Wall. (Yes, really. She has MARRIED the BERLIN WALL. What's worse is that she's now cheating on it with a fence.)
No one I have told this story to believes me until they Google it, so I won't be offended when you do the same. Whilst Google is loading, allow me to explain. The woman in question - Eija-Riitta Berliner-Mauer, 54 - has revealed that she has been married to the Berlin Wall for 29years. She is purported to be suffering a medical condition called "Objectum Sexuality," which means she has an uncommon fondness for inanimate objects. The practical application of her madness was that she held a 'wedding' ceremony and 'married' the Berlin Wall in front of a small gathering of - I imagine very understanding - family and friends. She has anthropomorphised the wall to the extent that she refers to it as a "he" and calls him her "husband."
From The Times: Mrs Berliner-Mauer, who lives in Liden, northern Sweden, said: "I find long, slim things with horizontal lines very sexy. "The Great Wall of China's attractive, but he’s too thick – my husband is sexier."
Since the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989 - when she believes they "mutilated [her] husband" - she has switched her attentions to a garden fence. (One word: Splinters.)
She also says she is "a virgin with humans." No? Really? (I do suggest that the RSPCA not let her have a dog though. Noone who specifies that they "don't have sex with humans" should be allowed a pet.)
Herr und Frau Berliner-Mauer:
There's really not enough medication in the world to cure that, is there? I suppose living in blissful ignorance of her own insanity is the best option available to her now - as if she were to be cured of the affliction and confronted by how completely bonkers she is then she'd probably die of shame. (Contrary to any sensible medical opinion, it isactually possible to die from shame: I know because I came very close to it when I bought a Smurfs album for my Dad.)
At least my ever-so-slightly mad tendencies can be cured by giving myself a talking to and making a cup of tea. Actually, talking to myself and then indulging in my other OCD behaviour of tea-making is probably not the best treatment for being a bit mental, is it?
I'm quite possibly making it worse.
Maybe I should just concede and betrothe some trellis.
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