Sad @ MindSay

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------


There's one easy way to tell if a session with Dianne was meaningful: I'll end up crying.
I try so fucking hard to stop myself, this time I was bending my fingers and squeezing my wrists - but as I said to her, if I start, I don't end up stopping.
I spoke to her a little bit about "5 to 15" - I recollected a few events. Those that I didn't think were majorly important, or that I don't think would have affected me that much in the future - but Dianne seemed to think they were useful information.
 
I got my first draft of the film studies coursework back today - Sarah said it's A-grade standard, but the fact I missed out a few chunks of information in places, it's only a C/B. So I'll be adding to it shortly - she's told me I ought to get an A overall for the coursework. I hope so. I want an A for film studies, seeing as how I managed to get one in media studies last year too.
 
I sat on the 2nd floor of the LRC in my break between the session with Dianne and my English lesson. I listened to Spieluhr on repeat for a while, until it started getting on my nerves - then swapped to Silverstein and Blind Guardian. I updated the blogs I'd left blank for Tuesday and Wednesday and had a mooch about on some randomers' blogs.
 
I've always hated English since I came to college - loved it before I came here, then it suddenly just got shit. I despise it even more now that Adam has been put into D block with me. He sits with Siobhan - he was sort of adjacent to me on the tables today, I was in a shit mood and he kept saying random shite to make me smile. I did smile at some of them, but I didn't feel smiley inside. I feel uncomfortable in that room as it is with all the arseholes in there, but it's gotten worse now Adam's there too. Sigh.
 
Hannah pissed me off too. I was simply asking Angela what it was we were supposed to be making notes on, and she goes: "We did the pragmatics yesterday... YOU KNOW, THE STUDY OF SOUND?"
I just gave her my psycho glare and growled: "I KNOW WHAT FUCKING PRAGMATICS ARE."
I'm surprised she didn't retaliate, she looked more surprised than offended at my response. Oh, I fucking hate her. She's always riles me because of her fucking ridiculous nasal-voice, but as soon as someone treats me like I lack intellect, they become hatred targets. Inconsiderate shit-sniffers!
 
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
On the bus home, I was listening to Blind Guardian louder than I should have done - and this random old woman kept turning around and giving me weird looks. Fucking slag. You'd think sitting behind an aged person, they'd be too deaf to hear your music. I don't have it THAT loud!
It just sounds louder in small spaces, such as lifts... :)
 
I'm a proper arsehole in the bus station though - I was bounding off to catch up with the bus that was due to leave the bay - and there was this huddle of dirty chavs standing by the railings that just didn't want to move - so I just SHOULDERED one out of the way - the look she gave me was proper funny. I didn't even look at her, I just carried on, fueled by my full-blast Rammstein. :)
 
When I got in, I made myself some of those chicken & bacon motzarella wraps and ate them while I watched Spongebob Squarepants. Nickelodeon seriously couldn't time it better - it always seems to be on whenever I get in. I like watching cartoons after college, it re-fills my happy levels. My happy levels are usually always below centre, but they drop to negative figures when I'm at college. The shithole that it is.
Well, not the building or the tutors or even the lessons - it's the arseholes that are there.
 
I went upstairs, set up my Wii and I finished off Spyro: Enter The Dragonfly.
Good fucking riddance, that's one game I'm not re-playing in a hurry. Thankfully, it was only £3.50, so I didn't waste that much on it. It's not a TERRIBLE game, but compared to the other Spyro games, it just doesn't even compete. And they're on PS1 - this is a GC/PS2 game!
It's just the overall glitchiness that ruins it. All the disappearing floors, voice lags, control reversals, camera freezing and general jumping about makes it a chore. It's also WAY too easy. Having different breath attacks instead of power-up portals is NOT Spyro! The time limits on the power-ups is what makes it fun!
 
And the lack of the locate gems feature doesn't make it harder - it just makes it goddamn tedious. And WHY do you collect DRAGONFLIES? Not eggs, not baby dragons - ach.
I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks it's wank though - GameFAQs reviewers all only give it 2/10 and 3/10.
I've completed all of the PS1 Spyros at least twice each, because they have excellent replay value - but as per fucking usual, as soon as a mint PS1 series gets ported to PS2, it FAILS.
It happened with Crash, it happened with Parappa The Rapper - it was obviously going to happen to Spyro. :(
 
Tee hee, bad game rant is over. :D
 
 
So, with that pile of crap removed from my to-be-completed games wallet and put back into the box at the bottom of the stack, not to be played again in a hurry - I replaced it with Resident Evil.
Now is the time for me to complete the scenario with Chris. Seeing as how Chris is supposed to be hard mode, I'm very surprised at how easy it is. I'm not sure if it's got to do with the fact I already know my way around due to completing it with Jill - but when I played her scenario, I must have died a good 10 times. I'm at the guardhouse currently and I've not died once. The snake didn't even hurt me, and Chris only gets a shitty shotgun, Forest's bazooka just doesn't seem to be present.
 
I still shit myself when Lisa Trevor came in the outside hut - even though I knew she was coming - she scares the shit out of me. She's what makes the Resi 1 re-make so much scarier. That and all the graphical touch-ups, crimson heads, insane puzzles, extra rooms and the general darker overtone and detailed environments.
 
I should stop talking about games, otherwise I'll just end up turning my blog into a games review. :)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------


I seriously fucking scared myself today.
I was reunited with that blackened, blankened emptiness in my head - the very same one I had when I spat on Ash from the top of the wonky stairs, when I punched her in the face by construction and the several major arguments with Shelly where I came close to strangling her.
 
I don't even remember what the build up to it was - I can only remember the during and the afterwards.
I remember getting more and more frustrated with her, knowing she was being a fucking stupid cunt as usual - being so damned selfish, self-centred, self-important, spiteful and generally immature - to the point where I ended up leaning over her, pinning her to my bed by her shoulders - actually not using a massive amount of strength, but she wasn't able to fight me off.
 
I wasn't violent - I didn't hit her - but I spoke with that incredibly sarcastic, patronising, calm-yet-very-violent tone - making no effort to swallow excess saliva - so when I said my harsh consonants, she got my wet rage on her cheeks. And I said a lot of harsh consonants.
 
I wanted her to be scared, and I knew when Shelly gets  that scared, she has accidents. I wanted her to piss herself - I wanted her to be humiliated, ashamed - I wanted her to have no control over herself.
I spoke to her like this for about 10 minutes, then went to sit at my computer for a while. What I did, I don't remember - but she didn't move - she stayed on my bed, laid in the same position.
 
I went back over to her afterwards and returned to what I was doing previously - but harsher.
At one point, I saw her flush red and she started crying hard - as opposed to the watery eyes she'd had for the rest of the time. I had a feeling I may have accomplished what I set out to do - but I made her admit to it to humiliate her further.
 
There's another gap in my recollection - but after this, I went to lay in my special space - between my bed and drawers. I took a pillow and laid on the floor, my head by the boiler and my feet by the desk. I cried a little bit, because I felt guilty. Then I cried a lot, because I was depressed and ashamed.
I couldn't apologise for a very long time - nor could I bring myself to look at Shelly. She made me eventually and I gave a sort-of apology. I don't think it was good enough, but she assured me that it was.
 
She made me tell her some events from "5 to 15" that I don't like talking about. She insists that they have some answers to why I feel the way I do now.
 
Well I'm willing to bet they do - but not as significant as she makes out. She fucking assumes wrong all the time. How dare she fucking assume and then go ahead to state that I ENJOY feeling depressed all the time. No, I'm not fucking content in my own depression. If that was the fucking case, I wouldn't have agreed to more sessions with Dianne. I wouldn't fight with myself every fucking night to stop myself cutting.
She is the fucking stupidest cunt I know. Who the fuck would say I enjoy being depressed? You can CLEARLY fucking see that I don't! Anybody could fucking tell you that!!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------


If I was at college this week, I'd have been seeing Dianne today.
Since I've agreed to attend another block of sessions, I really need to think about some issues I'm going to address.
As much as I'm going to despise it, I'll have to talk to her about that period of time that must not be discussed - 1996-2006. Or "5 to 15" as I call it when it's mentioned.
 
Regardless, there's a lot of things that are bothering me.
Though I'm starting to realise causes behind some of them - I'll get an idea, but then I'll doubt it - I'll ponder if it truly is the real reason behind something. Despite the fact I'm right about virtually everything, I have doubts if I'm right about this or not.
 
If only I could express my feelings through my creative assets like I used to.
I can't write, I can't draw - I haven't made any wav. mixes for ages, I'm starting to suck at Photography - the only thing I really have left are videos. Yes, I haven't lost my skill when it comes to writing scripts - but all these ideas I have, all the scripts I've written and planning sheets I've done - will they all be wasted?
 
If that's the case, I won't have anything left. Sigh.

I am feeling a tad depressed today.

Stressed out about too many things...*sigh*

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------


In today's "coursework research and planning" lesson for Media Studies - I'd announced to Sarah I'd just about finished off the script for the Spieluhr music video - so I said I'd be working on the script for my film sequence for Film Studies. She didn't seem to mind - so I got around 1/3 of it written.
Last night I'd had a dream about it, which had given me a fair few ideas - involving a young Abigail scene. I'd originally planned to have a young Abigail bit in our trailer last year - but we hadn't been able to pull it off. This time though, I sent a message to my aunty on Facebook, asking if I could borrow her kids - and mam had asked on my behalf too - so whenever we're ready to film it, I have my little cousin Lauren to help out as young Abigail (it helps that she looks a little bit like me) and Nelly to play the role of a bloody Brandon Henry - if he doesn't mind being dragged backwards down a path, spreading blood everywhere of course. :)

I actually don't hate English now anywhere near as much as I used to.
The start of the course was so tedious - but I'm actually starting to realise all the work I did last year at AS has rendered the A2 so much easier. A lot of it is simply applying your common sense and flinging in some theorist names. And of course, Angela gets us to draw baby heads and gingerbread men - and everything is colour coded. Being a visual style learner (or so they told me), this apparently helps. :D

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shelly had promised me that when I went into college to get this HPV cervical cancer jab - she'd come in with me and hold my hand.
We had to go there before 2 - and I waited for her IN PLAIN VIEW on the tables by the clock tower entrance. I waited until 1:30 before I gave up - I went in to get the needle by myself.

I was reasonably composed up until I was about a metre away from the door.
I couldn't stop myself crying for long. Shelly wasn't there to comfort me or to hold my hand like she said she would have been. The only comfort I had was from these dozy AS students who asked me like the stupidest question ever: "Are you scared?"

And then the fucking nurse who gave me the needle was a cunt and a half. She saw the cuts and scars on my arms and asked: "Do you have a cat or a dog who scratches your arms?"
I lied, taking the chance and said simply: "Yeah."
She looked at them again and said: "They're not a cat or a dog, are they?"
I shook my head and answered: "Nope."
She gave me this proper weird look and said: "Is there something you want to tell me?"
I glared at her and said straight: "No."

So naturally when I went up to Photography - dozy Shelly was there, she said she'd been looking for me - well clearly she hadn't been looking fucking hard enough.
I was all set to punch her for lying to me - but the needle had scared me into crying - and because it's so difficult to let myself cry for all the other reasons, I sort of used it as an excuse to cry about other things - so she was sort of lumbered with me soaking her hoodie for a while.

And that's the first needle of THREE.
For fuck's sake!