I wrote in my blog earlier this week about making the most of each day, and I'm trying to. Sadly today is a bad day. Yesterday at the football I was feeling good, even better when Stanley's win put us four point clear at the top of the league.
Last night I lay in bed listening to the radio for seven hours before the alarm went off to remind me to take my first tablet. I then fell asleep for two hours until the second alarm went off.
I'd made plans for tonight, but knew because I was shaking and my muscles were painful and rigid, I'd be unable to make it. I hate letting people down, but I guess it's just something I'll have to get over. In the last year I've missed out on countless things I'd been looking forward to. A couple of talks at QEGS I'd been asked to do, two childhood friends fortieth birhtdays. On the otherhand I've had some great times as well, so it all balances out. I'm just a little afraid that people will get bored with me when I'm unable to do things I've agreed to do, and will stop asking me.
I saw Mez who was picking up my neighbour to go for lunch at Auberge. I said I hoped they had a good time, which I'm sure you will. She reminded me that the meet at the Stag is themed 'Speak Easy', and there will be no jeans, and you have to wear a shirt and tie. I don't do dress codes very well. My life in London for seventeen years was all about clothes, and I feel people should be able to wear what they like. I've never been a sheep and I can feel denim calling me, with a twist of course. Perhaps the old me is still there somewhere in this bloody shakey body. I've never been one for playing by the rules. Sheep I ain't, though if other people want to dress up in feather boas fine, and if it doesn't suit fine, I'll go somewhere were you can wear what you like. It's the same with dress codes at nightclubs. Jeans, blazer and Gucci loafers= no. Naff crimpelene trousers, and a patterened v-neck sweater=yes. Walk on by. I'd rather not come in at all, thanks awfully.
Sieze the day tomorrow, for today I'm playing a let on this one.
Last night I lay in bed listening to the radio for seven hours before the alarm went off to remind me to take my first tablet. I then fell asleep for two hours until the second alarm went off.
I'd made plans for tonight, but knew because I was shaking and my muscles were painful and rigid, I'd be unable to make it. I hate letting people down, but I guess it's just something I'll have to get over. In the last year I've missed out on countless things I'd been looking forward to. A couple of talks at QEGS I'd been asked to do, two childhood friends fortieth birhtdays. On the otherhand I've had some great times as well, so it all balances out. I'm just a little afraid that people will get bored with me when I'm unable to do things I've agreed to do, and will stop asking me.
I saw Mez who was picking up my neighbour to go for lunch at Auberge. I said I hoped they had a good time, which I'm sure you will. She reminded me that the meet at the Stag is themed 'Speak Easy', and there will be no jeans, and you have to wear a shirt and tie. I don't do dress codes very well. My life in London for seventeen years was all about clothes, and I feel people should be able to wear what they like. I've never been a sheep and I can feel denim calling me, with a twist of course. Perhaps the old me is still there somewhere in this bloody shakey body. I've never been one for playing by the rules. Sheep I ain't, though if other people want to dress up in feather boas fine, and if it doesn't suit fine, I'll go somewhere were you can wear what you like. It's the same with dress codes at nightclubs. Jeans, blazer and Gucci loafers= no. Naff crimpelene trousers, and a patterened v-neck sweater=yes. Walk on by. I'd rather not come in at all, thanks awfully.
Sieze the day tomorrow, for today I'm playing a let on this one.