Advice Part 89- The joys of complaining

In recent weeks, I have not been feeling my best, and, in an effort to improve my mood, I have decided to spend more time doing the things I like. And top of that list is complaining (yes, I understand that this probably isn't the first thing that people commonly think of as a "fun" activity, but bear with me....).

My advice to young players is that if something is annoying the hell out of you, then you should really consider making a complaint. But remember, complaining is a SERIOUS business, which needs to be done with aplomb and justified outrage; it is not be be attempted lightly or frivolously. 

How do I know this? Read on.....

I have always been someone who has a tendency to be, how shall I say it, "a bit negative". But for most of my existence, I have not made a fuss when things have gone badly, or when I feel that there is something wrong. However, earlier this year, for some unknown reason, a switch must have flicked in my brain, and I decided to start complaining when I feel I have a legitimate cause. 

This was a revelation for me. I realised that I actually ENJOY complaining and am quite good at it, if receiving apologetic answers is a mark of success. (I just realised that sounds REALLY arrogant- that's definitely not the tone I intended!)

In the past week, I have complained to the following organisations:

•  My local council, because someone has dumped a big bag of junk outside my apartment block, and I want it cleaned up;

• The Opera House, for insisting my mum cloak her handbag at an event we attended, whilst men with bigger backpacks were allowed to take theirs in with them (I even squeezed in a two-for-one "bonus complaint" with this one, because in the drop down list of titles on the complaint form, they did not have "Dr", and so I decided to whinge about that, too. SHAZAM!);

• The bus company, for changing the timetable so that the bus leaves at EXACTLY the same time the train arrives, meaning that you always miss the bus, and have to wait 30 minutes for the next one;

• The pathology lab, for not rostering enough staff on during morning peak time, resulting in a TWO HOUR WAIT for a simple blood test.

And it's only Thursday, so there's plenty more scope for complaints to come!

Sometimes I do worry about the fact that I get considerable enjoyment from penning outraged letters about issues that other people may consider to be petty. But I like to think of myself as providing a community service to businesses, by letting them know how they can improve. Although I will admit that those I complain to may not see it that way..... But if they're annoyed, they can always make their own complaint.

Advice Part 88- On being depressed....

Aah, yes. This is a difficult one.

I figured it was about time to update my blog, which has been distinctly lacking in posts for the past few weeks, but, to be honest, I have very little urge to do so because I have (yet again) fallen into a depressive hole/been visited by the Black Dog (thank you, Winston Churchill)/taken to my bed/whatever other euphemisms you wish to use for feeling rather "under the weather". So to speak.

But, ever the model citizen, I have decided to turn my bad experience into advice for others! (my generosity knows no bounds today!)

That being said, my advice for young players is that if you are depressed, it is NOT YOUR FAULT! And there is ABSOLUTELY no shame in admitting that you are depressed. Why do I say this? Read on.....

If I think about things honestly, I have probably suffered depression in some form or another for most of my life. As a child, I was never exactly full of verve and vim (to the brim or otherwise), and I would say, in retrospect, that I was more than likely clinically depressed throughout the vast majority of my teenage years.

However, it wasn't until I enrolled in uni that I decided to see a counsellor about my general dissatisfaction. She asked me to fill in a Depression Scale, and I scored in the top 5% of depressed entities (amusingly, this is the highest score I have received on any test- as Charlie Sheen would say, "WINNING!").

So how does it feel being depressed? I'm sure it's different for everyone, but for me it is

• not being able to get out of bed in the morning;
• having absolutely no motivation;
• seeing a week pass at work and realising I've accomplished nothing;
• not caring about eating or drinking (yes, it's true!); 
• pulling out my Leonard Cohen, Elliott Smith, and The Smiths CDs for a bit of "light listening";
• leaving dirty dishes in the sink for days on end;
• getting (even more) short-tempered and snappy than usual; and
• feeling annoyed when my cat jumps on my lap and purrs (poor puss- the travails of feline life in a depressed household).

This is how I feel at the moment.

I went to the doctor yesterday, who advised me to up my dosage of anti-depressants, make some "life changes", and see a therapist. So that's what I've decided to do. Will I recover from this? I would like to. Will it be easy? Probably not, for me or for the people around me who have to suffer these things. Will I have a relapse? Almost certainly. But I can at least hope that it's later, rather than sooner. And that has to be something, right?

Advice Part 87- Why everyone needs a Top 10 Albums List (otherwise known as a pathetic excuse to publish my own)

Perhaps it's just me (and I imagine it probably is), but articles such as this immediately pique my interest. I absolutely love reading subjective lists, by apparent authorities, passionately purporting to be the definitive judgement on the best albums ever released.

I enjoy these lists so much because they invariably make me furiously angry.

"Why ON EARTH did they include THAT?! It's RUBBISH!"; "Four albums by the same artist are not allowed, surely?!" and "Look at the blatant attempt to be cool by including a punk offering amidst the detritus" were some of the reactions I had to the linked list.

Anyway. Enough sniping.

My advice to young players is that regardless of the criticism you are almost certainly bound to receive, NO person should be without a Top 10 Albums List (I sound more and more like the character from High Fidelity by the day- but don't worry, former boyfriends, I will not be revisiting "my desert island, all-time, top-five most memorable breakups").

So, without further ado, here is my own Top 10 albums list....

1) Elliott Smith. Either/Or (1997)

2) Crowded House. Temple of Low Men (1998)

3) Neil Young. Harvest (1972)

4) The Smiths. Strangeways, here we come (1987)

5) Nirvana. MTV Unplugged in New York (1994)

6) Leonard Cohen. Songs of Leonard Cohen (1967)

7) Peter Gabriel (1977)

8) U2. Achtung Baby (1991)

9) R.E.M. Automatic for the People (1992)

10) The Beatles. Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (1967)

To be honest, I'm not completely happy with this list. Why?

• The top nine are fine, but I'm really not sure about Sgt Pepper's. It's a good album; I wanted The Beatles there; but sometimes I feel it's a little, err, cheesy.....
• Choosing albums is different to choosing songs. I wanted to put Prince in somewhere, but I like random songs from different albums, not one single album.
• Not including the same artist more than once was DIFFICULT. But if I had, my top ten would have featured five albums by the same person.
• The albums I like the most aren't necessarily the albums I think are "technically" the best. I think OK Computer is a technically amazing record, but I don't love listening to it (sorry, but it's true)
• I wanted to justify why each album is included, but it would have taken me a whole day, so this will have to suffice. But if you're interested in hearing my ravings, always happy to oblige!
• The most recent album on my list is 15 years old. Make of this what you will.

Advice Part 86- Professions where you SHOULDN'T talk

If you're anything like me, and have spent a fair bit of time looking at job ads (quirky fact- I was once unemployed for 2.5 years!), you will notice that having a "bright and bubbly personality", "good verbal communication skills" or a "friendly and approachable manner" are often listed as key requirements for jobs.

This is all well and good for certain professions. However, my advice for young players is that if you like engaging in a bit of small talk with your clients, then being a dentist probably isn't the job for you.

Case in point.

Yesterday, I went along to the dentist for my regular check-up. I've been going to the same surgery for the last couple of years, and, like David Sedaris, I actually ENJOY my visits. (Well, most of the time....Except for when I need to virtually remortgage my apartment to pay the bill....Or when the dentist discovers that half my tooth has decayed.....).

The reason I like going is because my dentist (let's call him Neil) is VERY nice. Aged around 70, he resembles a friendly grandfather. Albeit with a drill.....

The only problem with Neil is that he likes to talk. A LOT. This would be fine and dandy if he was engaging in monologues (dramatic or otherwise). Or if he was talking to the dental assistant. But no. Neil enjoys talking to his clients, whilst he works. Consequently, this situation regularly ensues.....

• Neil (reclining the chair): So, what have you been up to lately? Have you had a nice weekend? How's work? 
• Me: Oh, not a lot. Just this and that. On the weekend, I......
• Neil (reaching for the descaler): Open wide. I'm just going to give your teeth a clean. So, you were saying....?
• Me (mouth wide open): Gurgle gurgle gurgle
• Neil (attacking my molars): Oh really? That sounds like fun! And did you enjoy that?
• Me (attempting to make my indistinct mutter sound "positive"): Gurgle gurgle
• Neil (reaching for some other instrument of torture): Now, keep that mouth open. (Avuncular chuckle) Nothing like the weekend, eh? I had a great time, too. I bought a new phone. I love it. Do you have a smart phone? What type? I should have bought one ages ago!
• Me: Gurgle gurgle.
• Neil (smiling encouragingly): Oh, you have an iPhone? Me too!

I don't know if Neil is a) just guessing correctly; or b) is bilingual in English and the dentist language of "indistinct open mouth noises", but he seems to decipher my mutterings with success a fair proportion of the time.

Nonetheless, I can't help feeling that dentistry maybe isn't the ideal job for him. Although he certainly makes it a diverting experience......

Advice Part 85- The part-time exorcist

As I've become older, and ever more wizened, less and less things surprise me. Whether this is a result of experience, or a gradual increase in cynicism (I suspect the latter), I'll never know. But on Wednesday night, I realised just how little I've seen.....

Hence, my advice to young players is that you should NEVER believe that your credulity has been stretched to its absolute limits, because, more than likely, there's something even more bizarre out there......

What do I mean by this? Read on.....

On Tuesday, my boyfriend, "Ricardo", had a blocked ear. He went to the medical centre to have it syringed, but the nurse didn't know what to do. Instead of heating the water up (first rule of syringing), she decided that cold would suffice, and proceeded to attack the unfortunate Ricardo's eardrum with her icy jet. Needless to say, this only made the ear worse.

By Wednesday, Ricardo couldn't hear out of his troublesome ear, but he decided to come along to Spanish class that night anyway. Needless to say, he wasn't able to hear very much, and in the break, when the classroom was empty, he went up to the teacher, Julio, to explain what had happened.

At this point, I should tell you that our teacher is, err, "a bit odd." Understatement of the century, as I've recently discovered....

The following conversation ensued:

• Ricardo: Hi Julio, I just wanted to explain why I haven't been speaking in class today. My ear is blocked, and I'm having trouble hearing.
• Julio: That's no good. Have you been to the doctor?
• Ricardo: Yes, the nurse syringed it, but it hasn't helped. 
• Julio (thoughtfully): Interesting. It didn't help at all?
• Ricardo: No. It made it worse. The wax is all built up inside the canal.
• Julio (decisively): I don't think it's wax in there. If it was, it would have come out at the doctor's surgery. No. It's clear to me that you have an evil spirit in your ear. It's obviously built a home in there, and when the doctor tried to flush it away, it decided to hang on even tighter. That's why it's so sore.
• Ricardo (gaping): Err, right.
• Julio (starting to become very animated): Yes, there's definitely a demon in there. Or some sort of bad spirit. And it's in a very dangerous position, so close to your brain. You're going to have to do something quickly to get rid of it, before it tries to take over. I am a spiritual healer. I can help you to exorcise it for a very cheap price.

Julio then waved his arms near Ricardo's head, as a bit of a spiritualism try-before-you-buy and asked if Ricardo could "feel the demon struggling." Ricardo decided it was best to agree, and nodded gingerly. Obviously believing he'd won the unfortunate Ricardo over, Julio gave him his business card (Julio Lopez, Spiritual Cleansing Service) and urged him to call ASAP.

Needless to say, Ricardo has decided not to take up his offer. But if we're ever in the market for an exorcist, we know where to go.......Though god knows how I'll ever be able to keep a straight face in Spanish class again.

Advice Part 84- Visit to the vampire

Maybe it's just me, but visiting the doctor is something I view with great trepidation (sorry for any medicos out there reading this- it is not a personal offence to you!). Whilst I do enjoy having a chat with my GP, and checking out the cool giant microbe toys hanging around on her desk, I have noticed that after almost every visit, I am told to head to the pathology lab for a blood test.

This fills me with absolute horror, because I am REPULSED by blood tests. Yes, I do have diabetes, and I see my own blood every day. But taking a minute finger prick sample is VERY different to having your unfortunate veins assaulted and robbed of tubes of the stuff.

My advice to young players is that if, like me, a visit to the pathology lab makes you feel sick to the stomach, there are a few small tricks that you can use to survive this experience intact.

How do I know this? Read on....

This week, I wasn't feeling too well, so off I trotted to the GP to see if she could find out what was wrong. I explained my symptoms in great detail, and launched into a discussion of my tiredness and lack of will. The following conversation ensued:

• Her: Hmm. It sounds like it could be an iron deficiency.
• Me: Oh right. Should I just restart the iron tablets?
• Her: No, no. I'd like you to have a blood test first. Here, I'll write you a request. And we'll get a few other things checked at the same time.

These were just the words I didn't want to hear. Not only a SINGLE blood sample, but MULTIPLE TUBES would be taken. 

To steal Joseph Conrad's line "The horror! The horror!"

So, off I went to the pathology lab this morning. And here's my advice for surviving.....

• DO NOT go to the pathology lab as soon as it opens! It will be chockers with people who are doing fasting blood tests. Unless you have to do one of these, wait until later when there's less people.
• Try to minimise the amount of time you spend in the waiting room, as it will just make you nervous. Especially if there are children having blood samples taken, and you can hear their shrieking....
• DO NOT LOOK when the pathology person inserts the needle and takes the blood!!!!! I can't emphasise this enough!!!!!

• If you begin to hear your heart beating in your ears, this is a BAD SIGN that you are about to pass out. If you feel like you are about to faint, then ask the person if you can lie down.
• After the pathology collector (aka "the vampire") has taken your blood, you will have to look at the tubes, and potentially touch them, to check that they have your details right. I find this part particularly gross, especially if the tubes are warm from the blood (yuk, yuk, YUK!!!)

I'm going to have to stop here, because I am starting to feel ill just writing this stuff. 

All I can say is, if anyone can invent a machine that analyses blood without needing to take a sample, I will be your biggest fan.

Advice Part 83- My cat's vendetta

So, human beings are supposed to be the "smartest" animal species, are we? Certainly, we can talk, think abstractly, and have the ability to spend an inordinate amount of time worrying about non-essential activities (such as updating our blog....ahem.....).

However, my advice to young players is that human intelligence is NOTHING compared to the power of the feline brain, especially when it comes to forming and enacting devious plans.

How do I know this? Read on.....

My cat, Polly, does not appear to be a mastermind on first acquaintance. She is elderly, overweight, and spends a disproportionate amount of time eating and sleeping. But I have started to realise that the innocent exterior is simply a facade.....

EVERY evening for the past week, the following has occurred:

• It's around 10 o'clock at night. I change into my pyjamas and nightcap, brush my teeth, and then hop into my nice, warm bed to read my book for a while. At this stage, Polly is on the couch in the lounge room, apparently "fast asleep" (it is a ruse, I tell you!)

• After 30 minutes or so of reading, I switch off the light, and settle down to sleep. There is TOTAL silence from the lounge room. Polly "sleeps on."
• After 10 minutes or so, I begin to drift off to sleep. All is well.....
• The peace is suddenly shattered by a barrage of scratching, digging and burrowing. It sounds as if I've stumbled onto the set of The Great Escape, but without Steve McQueen for company.
• The burrowing continues for 5 minutes or so, until there is a LOOOOONG silence. I know EXACTLY what this silence means- my cat is leaving me what could euphemistically be described as "a gift" in the litter box.
• My room is enveloped by a fetid odour, before the scratching and burrowing starts again, as "the gift" is buried.

At this stage, I try to ignore the stench, but it's no use- I must depart from my warm bed, clean out the infamous "gift", take it to the garbage, and then try and get back to sleep.

This DOES NOT make me well pleased.

Sure, I should be glad that Polly elects to use the litter box, rather than going on the floor. And yes, I am grateful for this small mercy. But I never cease to marvel at the fact that she somehow knows PRECISELY when to time her midnight toilet run in order to cause maximum aggravation. Five minutes earlier, and I wouldn't be dozing; five minutes later, and I'd be fast asleep.

I have tried to trick her into using "the facilities" at a more reasonable time by pretending to go to bed a couple of hours earlier. I close the door, jump into bed, read, then switch out the light.

To no avail.

All I can say is, if anyone is looking for an instrument of torture, I am very glad to lend you my cat.

Advice Part 82- "So lovely to see you!"

If, like me, you are not exactly a star performer at starting or maintaining romantic relationships, then you may very well have an ex (or two) lurking in your past. And maybe it's just me, but I would like my past relationships to stay EXACTLY there.

In the past.

Not popping up for a "hello" in the present or the future.

If only things were that simple....

My advice for young players is that sooner or later, you are probably going to run into one of your exes (unless, of course, you or s/he moves to Antarctica/becomes an astronaut/or some other similarly unlikely event). And this meeting is likely to be rather uncomfortable, so you had best be prepared.

How do I know this? Read on.....

Last night, I finished work early, so I decided to relax by going to yoga at the studio I have been attending for the last four or so years.

I got changed into my "uniform" of sweaty, smelly pants, and horrible free T-shirt, removed my glasses, and headed up the back of the yoga room to collect a mat. Being semi-blind (and, I will admit, a bit self-absorbed), I didn't really notice any of the other students, until I heard someone say "Hello (insert my name here- not sure why I'm so intent on maintaining the guise of anonymity, as I think everyone who reads this blog knows who I am, but please humour me)."

I looked up to see who the speaker was. It was my ex, the famous Mr X, who I have mentioned previously here and here. Mr X looks quite different now, having grown a beard and some head hair. This only compounded my surprise.

I was absolutely mortified, and muttered a "hello." But (uncharitable though it may be) I was incensed- what the HELL was HE doing in MY yoga class?! OK, OK, it's a free country, and he's at liberty to go to whatever yoga class he wants. I accept that. But there must be at least 10 other classes within a 5 km radius of mine. Why didn't he go to one of them instead? Or even if he wants to go to my yoga school, there's classes on at other times i.e. 6am in the morning. Surely that would be an option? SURELY?

Humph.

Let's just say, having an ex that you REALLY don't like in your yoga class is not exactly conducive to relaxation.....

I spent the first half of the class studiously avoiding looking at him, and hoping that he wasn't watching me doing the downward dog pose with my backside in the air. The second half of the class was no better, as I plotted my best route for leaving the studio ASAP so as to avoid any further conversational opportunities at the communal shoe rack. Shudder.

Maybe I should be more like my mum, who loves socialising with her former fiancé and his wife. But at the moment, I'm just hoping that Mr X finds a new hobby that isn't yoga VERY, VERY soon.

Advice Part 81- How NOT to complete your PhD

I am probably the LAST person who should be offering tips on completing a PhD, given that I was not exactly what you would call a "model student." However, my advice to young players is that if you're trying to finish your PhD, there's a few things you probably shouldn't be doing. Or at least not if you want to survive with your sanity intact.....

How do I know this? Read on.....

A few months ago, a new staff member (let's call him Edward) moved into the office next to mine. Edward told me he was nearing the final stages of his PhD, and that "if (he) didn't submit by July, (he'd) be kicked out of uni." "How long have you been writing it for?" I inquired, trying to be friendly. Answer: almost 10 years.

This didn't bode well.

However, Edward explained that he was now "REALLY committed" to getting things finished, because he wants to move to Greenland to be a "house husband" for his girlfriend (who met at a bar in Turkey whilst watching the Eurovision song contest- but I digress).

At first I watched Edward's progress with "interest."

Then I watched his "progress" with interest.

And now, I'm not watching at all. It's too depressing.

But with that in mind, let's just say, if you DO want to complete your PhD, you probably SHOULDN'T....

• Take on a full-time job, with a HUGE teaching and marking load, and expect to work full-time on your thesis as well;
• Decide, at 1 a.m. in the morning, that the Introduction chapter, which your supervisor was HAPPY with, needs a TOTAL rewrite;
• Realise, at 6 a.m. the next day, that rewriting the Introduction wasn't such a brilliant idea, and you need to change it back;
• Wait until 2.5 weeks before you hand in before sending your FIRST DRAFT to your supervisor; 
• Go out "relaxing" (i.e. massive drinking binge), and then expect to both start and finish your discussion section the following afternoon (well, at least it wasn't the next morning, I guess.....);
• Neglect to check the date that you're due to submit, and then realise that, hey, it's two weeks earlier than you thought;
• Listen to The Wu-Tang Clan so loud that the whole building shakes, and then maintain that you're "working really hard." 

Sure, everyone's different. And maybe Edward will produce a thesis which sets the academic world on proverbial fire. It will be great if he does. But all I can say is, I have NEVER been more glad that the thesis writing part of my life is done.....