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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

I can only apologise

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I really don't know why I'm writing this, but you know when something is just so ridiculous you can't believe it's really there?  Well it is, and I have to write it somewhere before I can reload the page...

I've just been deleting my facebook wall - I hate it to have stuff on it, though I realise that comes as an irritant to many people, especially when they've made attempts to be witty.  I really only use it to get pictures off my mobile onto my computer because it's the only way I know how to, complex as that is.  Oh and to put up status updates when I'm drunk, but there really is a reason for deleting them fairly regularly.

Anyway, straying from the point... on the right hand side of the page there is always a pile of either bizarre adverts, or boring facts about people you don't know, but might like to for some reason.  On this page, it was adverts, and the one that caught my eye read as follows:

"See what your baby will look like by combining pictures of you and your boyfriend, for FREE! (100% accuracy)"

WHAT??!

Permalink 2 comments (latest comment by ROSIE Rushton-Stone, Friday, 11 Feb 2011, 17:50)
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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

Boredom

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Today is one of those days when everything is boring.  I can't spark any interest in anything.  It is not for a lack of stimuli - I've achieved a lot already.  It's just all slightly fogged.  And dull.  Dull without reason.

Is it laziness that creates boredom?  I'm not unhappy, it's not some sort of mild depression.  It's what it is.  I have even achieved all my study goals, which is unheard of, and I'm not bothered.  Total and complete apathy.

What is even more annoying, is that it's escaping out of my mind and into my vocalisations.  My boyfriend asked me earlier for my opinion on whether prisoners should be able to vote.  I answered him, and when I had finished talking, there was silence.  He had stopped listening.  My boredom transformed into boring conversation that bored him and switched him off as well. 

So now there's two of us who can't be bothered with the day.

Even the cats have stopped moving.  They are alive, incidentally, just unresponsive.

I can't claim to be correct about this, but I think I've narrowed the cause down to eating too much stew yesterday.  Though what's wrong with the cats I don't know.  Probably just our boredom rubbing off on them.  Quite sensitive to these things apparently.

Well, I guess while I search for stimulation, I might as well carry on studying.  If it hasn't lifted by the evening then I'll have to find inspiration in a final bottle of mulled wine that a friend is bringing round tonight.  I've never had mulled wine at home before.  So that can't be boring, surely.  I hope it's not some herbal variety, though that would be in keeping with the rest of the day.  Boring alcohol free wine, on a day built on boredom.  I wonder if there are boredom waves, and they are bouncing off the walls and round the house, and back into me.  Maybe if I went outside they'd wiggle their way into someone else.  I'll have a think about who I want to inflict my boredom waves on, and then go for it...

I'll probably walk outside and be greeted by some post apocalyptic scene, after my boredom waves, unbeknown to me, have escaped into the street through an open window...

Permalink 2 comments (latest comment by ROSIE Rushton-Stone, Friday, 11 Feb 2011, 15:11)
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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

Got to laugh

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My mum came up to visit last night, and I found out in the early hours of this morning, that she and I really need to start talking abnormally.  We keep missing out on good times together because we act as though we're on the same wavelength, when it is becoming apparent that we aren't.

For years, I have found it SO irritating when my mum asks me to tell a joke, particularly in front of other people.  The reason being, that she's always hated the majority of my jokes, rarely found them funny, and usually told me they were rubbish.  Occasionally she will say a joke is brilliant.  Mostly though, she'll say the joke is crap, but then the next day ask me to tell it to her again.  What madness!  It instantly enrages me, and often, it makes me so angry that I do enter into a bit of a blind rant. 

So, after a lovely evening, that crept into the early hours, she did it again!  'Go on Rosie, tell that joke again'.  ARGH!  'Why?????  You didn't like it - why would you want me to tell it to someone else, so that they can tell me it's awful too?'  It's always seemed to me to be a form of humiliation.  If a joke doesn't work, stop telling it, right?  But she always does this, and we always end up fighting.

Well, following a very normal argument, a very strange conversation emerged.  We actually talked it through.  I managed to calmly express why it angered me so much.  If only she had told me years ago, that when she says a joke is terrible, or awful, that she actually likes it.  But if I say that someone has died, and she says that it's terrible, then she means that it is terrible.  If I tell a second joke, and she says 'that one's even worse', she means that it is even better.  If she says that she is worse than me at maths then she means that she is worse.

We spent a good two hours, running through hundreds of different situations.  I have misunderstood so many of her responses; it verges on the ridiculous.  And I have kicked off at her so many times, when there was no need.  Luckily, we had drank enough to be able to see the funny side.  It was weird waking up today though, and speaking to her again.  It feels like nothing she says is quite as it seems anymore, and much as it's good to know that she does actually have a sense of humour, it has changed our future interactions in quite a big way, I think.  The world has gone a little topsy turvy temporarily.

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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

Complicated beyond reason

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Edited by ROSIE Rushton-Stone, Sunday, 6 Feb 2011, 17:28
I have to laugh at the bizarre logic of some people.  I'm meeting up with a few friends, for a few beers.  One of them isn't coming, because they called in sick for work this morning, for a shift that finished at half past two.  Now they feel they can't be seen out in public, at eight o'clock in the evening.  What?!  Really, get some perspective!  It's not like calling in sick, and then being seen having lunch with a bunch of work colleagues when you were meant to be on shift.  People do feel differently in the morning, to in the evening.  By that logic, if you are feeling well in the morning, then you can't be feeling ill by the evening... surely it must work both ways?  I cannot understand why a perfectly normal situation has become weirdly fraught with unnecessary stress!  For them, not me; I'm just bemused.
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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

Forgot this one

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Really for the SK124, another interesting read by a mother of two children with autism.  Guessing I can't post this stuff to the forum.  Strangely strict I feel but hey ho.

http://hammie-hammiesays.blogspot.com/2011/01/just-because-it-rained-after-you-put.html

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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

How can you ever be sure that you're not just normal?

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Edited by ROSIE Rushton-Stone, Friday, 4 Feb 2011, 17:42

This has been bugging me for about four years on a personal level, and longer on a general level.  Some of the (very interesting) forum chats are heightening my awareness of how easy it is to be misdiagnosed, both in physical and mental health.

I am loathe to discuss diagnoses that I've recieved as a rule... for the most part, my friends and family are unaware.  I have never seen the point.  The odd time that I have shared, it has either caused worry to people that I care about, or led to a lot of questions that I have no desire to answer.  So I keep it to myself.  Also, once again, these are issues that are highly emotional for some, and I feel far more comfortable writing in the confines of my blog, where people need not wander!  But for the purposes of this ramble, I need to base my opinion on some sort of factual evidence. 

I think people that know me would be quite surprised.  I am known for being the happy joker of any group.  I like to entertain people, and it is very rare, even when I am on my own, that I feel unhappy.  I have two basic emotions: happy and angry.  Not ideal, but there it is.

As a child, I had an endless number of amusing troubles, that caused no end of problems for both me and my mother.  Luckily, I was academically very able, and was able to compensate for the vast majority of them, by thinking everything through.  Aside from the occasional slip up leading to extreme anger and violence at whoever had exposed me for not being like everyone else, I made it through to adulthood basically unscathed.  And then it all changed.  I couldn't stand to be at home, and left very young.  I got a job; I got a flat, and then I lost the plot.  Not being in my little world that I had learnt the rules for, made me suddenly very aware of how ill-equipped I was to cope with the outside world.  Over time, it led to much support from various non-drug but mind-altering therapies, that eventually reached the conclusion that I had lost the ability to react naturally, and the level of brain activity required to behave in this 'programmed computer' way, was too high.  This led to various medical terms being thrown into my doctors' notes.

I have had two brilliant doctors, both of which left the practise after only a few months, so my time with them was brief.  They understood that I understand myself extremely well, that I have no desire to have labels put upon me, and have no wish to have an excuse to miss out on any aspect of life.  I love my life, and every label holds me back... if I share it.  So I don't.  On a personal level, it is useful to have a professional opinion, and in some ways, this aids the self-analysis that I love to engage in.

The thing that intrigues me now, is the latest diagnosis, that I think will stick actually, has removed THREE other life changing and serious mental health diagnoses.  Removed them.  I never had them.  Or so says my notes.  Now in my case, it happens that I have got through without getting involved in any form of medication.  I have worked through them all well enough to 'pass the test' by thinking.  Working out how I can get around the feelings, working out what to do when I experience them.  There has been no huge impact on my life, or the lives of others around me, as in these cases I have chosen to leave them happily unaware.  I wonder though, how many people have been sucked into a wrong diagnosis, and become the illness.  Filling the box that they've been put into... how sad is that? 

I know a man who was recently diagnosed with bi-polar disorder.  Now I'm not disputing that he has it; I'm disputing the benefit of the label.  While he was busily seeing doctors, he was certainly depressed, and initially was diagnosed with clinical depression.  At the same time, he was drinking a bottle of whisky most nights, and smoking herbal roll-ups, as it were.  He's been doing that for several years.  But he had maintained his job, and he was a likeable character. I have to say I never saw anything more than depression in him, until he met a girl with bi-polar, at work.  Within a week, he was having manic episodes.  He went back to the doctor, described this girl's symptoms, and was rediagnosed: bi-polar.  Again, I am not actually disputing that the diagnosis is correct (I know it sounds like it).  It is 6 months on now, he is no longer in work, he has bought many text books, and has developed a whole range of symptoms.  Noteably not one is atypical of bi-polar by definition.  He is now on a high dose of lithium, and spends his days talking about his 'disability' and how the world doesn't make enough allowances for him.  It has ruined him.  The girl on the other hand finds the knowledge of her illness to be helpful in understanding herself.  Prior to diagnosis she thought she was losing the plot, and although she still has episodes every six months or so, she manages her mental health extremely well.  She loves life; she has no desire to have mental health problems, and she never feels the need to discuss them with strangers, and rarely with friends.  The difference between them is remarkable.  Her diagnoses saved her.  His diagnosis destroyed him.

Now I realise I never went into mine, as I had planned.  I was going to, and then I thought better of it!  Rest assured, the girl I mention is a friend, and not my way of getting things off my chest.  My personal example was closely linked to a current forum discussion, but I think I have made my point well enough without entering such territory!  Chicken!

So I have to wonder, what would happen if the man I mention had not been diagnosed as such... if he had never met my friend, if maybe he had been told to stop drinking and smoking, to get a new hobby... I just wonder.  And it bugs me, because I guess I'll never know.

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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

Waiting...

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Waiting for someone to phone me and say they'll come to a gig tonight.  With 4 hours notice I've tried just about everyone local, now moving on to the people who live on or near a late night bus route. 

Another hour and I'm going to have to accept spending the night in with my study books...

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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

Not us!

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_2lGkEU4Xs&feature=player_embedded

 

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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

It's in, goodbye B3 no.2 , you were knackering

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It's been a long night.  And unfortunately it is now too late in the day to catch some sleep.  That's the first all-nighter of 2011 I believe.  Caught that bloody midday deadline though ;)

Rock on

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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

Midday or midnight

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When did this come about??  I wonder how long I must have been away from OU study.  It was always midnight.  And now it's midday.

In fact, someone posted a link that said you should strive to complete 3 days in advance, the cut-off was midday, and there was a 12-hour grace period.  3 days in advance?  What?  One moment.

Deadline: the time by which something must be finished or submitted; the latest time for finishing something.

Really?  I would have thought that was self explanatory? Why not just say midnight?  We're all adults here, we understand the meaning of the word deadline, don't we?  Is there any need to make what was a very simple rule, into 3 separate, contradictory and therefore confusing statements??  I'm not having a grumble, I promise.  I was going to be up all night on this whatever time I had to submit.  I just can't see what the point of changing a deadline from midnight to 'midday with a grace period of 12 hours' was exactly.  Is the implication that we're a bit stupid?  Perhaps that the 24-hour clock could cause some confusion, 00:00 could be mistaken for 12:00... but of the following day then?  They wouldn't be concerned about an earlier submission.  So that implies confusion about dates.  If you can't get a handle on the date, then there's not a massive amount of scope for success with a full-blown degree anyway I wouldn't think.  I think perhaps I resent the notion of a grace period.  Especially as it just used to be there, to use, nothing gracious about it.  I feel like my tutor will be sitting there from midday checking his watch, feeling forced into graciousness against his will.

All it means is that I am consumed with concern about submitting after midday (although my tutor has confirmed it can be after that, provided it is before midnight).  Still, I have 9 hours before I miss the second of the three deadlines (something I believed to be a nonsensical statement until tonight).  Plenty of time to reorder 6,000 odd words, delete a few thousand, and replace with a few thousand different ones.  I have some cheese and crackers, a jar of mustard, and aside from a brief moment of weakness with a crabbies ginger beer, I have had a focused night.

I have promised myself all sorts of unnecessary but delightful rewards tomorrow.  Not that I'll be awake.  I think this is one of those times, when if someone was awake to speak with me, they would gently tell me that I am becoming ever so slightly repetitive.  The trouble is, I'm trying to do quite an in-depth business analysis, and all I can think about is why they changed the deadline.  As the saying goes, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. It's a terrible curse to be plagued by such dull anxieties.  I have a friend who worries a great deal about being abducted by aliens.  I should strive to get to a more interesting level of broken record syndrome.

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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

Revelation

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Throughout my life I have been told (on and off - not daily or anything so worrying!) that for someone who appears intellectually very able on most levels, I can be incredibly stupid.  And they are right.  Every now and then, I discover something that is so obvious that I can't believe I have been unaware of it for so long.

As a child I was years ahead of my peers in all the factual subjects, yet I couldn't learn to read analogue clocks, could never find my lecture theatres, and often couldn't even recognise my own friends, despite having 20/20 vision and what was otherwise a very efficient brain.  I am so lucky to have been well liked for the most part, or I don't know how I would have survived school.  I only made it to lessons because friends would meet me in places they knew I could find, and walk the rest of the way with me.  I avoided catching the bus to school whenever I could, as it frightened me not knowing where it was going, and even after years of practice I could never ever recognise my stop.  I used to get on, and my heart would pound and pound as other kids got on.  There were 2 schools that caught the same bus, and it was mainly kids from the other school that got on.  I would watch out the window at each stop, shaking all over, hoping against hope that someone with my uniform would get on so I'd know when to get off.  Real terror.  I used to get in so much trouble if it was discovered that I had 'chosen' to walk (4 miles, just over an hour = late).  Chosen?  Then when I did get into school I'd complete the whole terms textbooks in a lesson, no problem.  No one ever believed it was for real.  How can a child be simultaneously so brilliant and yet so incapable? 

A few years ago I discovered that banoffee pie is so called because of the banana/toffee mix.  That couldn't be more obvious.  But I always just thought it was a nonsense word, or possibly even a place, like Missisippi.  That certainly does not give the impression of intelligence.  What makes it worse, is how excited I was when I worked it out (by myself!), and chose to phone people to pass on the exciting news.  People thought I must be joking, but I couldn't have been more serious.  It was a very very exciting day for me, and I was disappointed to discover that most people had had the same knowledge from when they first learnt to speak.

Today I had a similar revelation.  The way the OU codes courses.  The first number corresponds to the level of study.  How obvious.  Yet how useful to know.  So now if someone says they are studying a T3 course, or an S2 course, I can pretty well guess at a technology level 3 or a science level 2 respectively.  And that's really as much as I need to know.  Saves a bit of online searching. 

This time, however, knowing that it is not so much a revelation, as a commonly known fact, I'm posting my glee here.  It saves me phoning round friends and boring them with the details.  They get quite enough nonsense from me.

Happy days!

 

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What is the most popular owl in the British Isles?

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I shouldn't really acknowledge having even heard the question should I?  Rumbled.
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For the interest of those studying SK124 particularly

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I'm unsure as to what links I can and can't post on the forums.

I've posted this one to the study advisors, but just incase they say NO! then I thought I'd post it here.

It's a link to a really lovely blog, written from the perspective of Clive, an assistance dog for a yound lad with autism. 

http://assistdogautism.blogspot.com/

They talk about the difficulties as well as the successes, coping strategies, behaviour management, and sometimes his sister puts across her memories of growing up with Murray (the lad with autism).... have a look, it's easier than me going into too much detail.

I thought/hoped it might be of interest to someone!

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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

Reaping the rewards of avoidance

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Someone replied to a comment I put in a forum yesterday, and it got me thinking...

How many aspects of my life are a direct result of avoiding writing an assignment for the OU?  On reflection, it seems that over the past 5 years, the influence of the OU has been (at least) two-fold: gaining qualifications, and haphazard repercussions.  Some of my procrastinations have proven to be quite fruitful in strange twists of fate. 

The story starts when I first arrived in Cheltenham, with only a backpack to my name, after living in the States for a year, and not having given much consideration to my return to England.  I had a friend who could put me up for a short period, but the day after my arrival, I went to a letting agent, got the cheapest flat there was, and moved in the next day.  The only thing I had other than my back pack, was my mac pc (that I had shipped to the States and back!) and my banjo.  I decided that the best way to spend my remaining cash was on a phone line and internet, and then the rest in the local pub.  It was only a matter of days before the realisation that a bed, or a heater, would have been better choices.  So there I was, sitting on the floor, wearing all my clothes, hat, scarf, gloves, trying to maintain a living body temperature, with the internet at my fingertips.... and here I discovered the OU!!!  Herein lies the first 'side effect'.  I needed a job.  I knew I needed a job before, as remaining funds were running low, but in my not-yet-wise brain, I felt that sacrificing basic necessities (hot water, food, blankets...) for a further few months was an easier option.  But now I wanted to study - study from home?!  Awesome!  So I got a job (again without due care and attention), got paid, and started studying.  So the OU takes part responsibility for me starting this job that I was to have a love-hate relationship with for the next 6 years. 

So I got to thinking about some of the other odd cause and effect situations that have stemmed specifically from avoiding writing an assignment, or revising for an exam. I won't bore the world with 6 years of my personal nonsense, but as a recent example, if I hadn't avoided one particular assignment 'til the last minute, I wouldn't be studying 2 of my current courses.  I also wouldn't have discovered whisky liqueur, joined the gym or quit my job (a redemption from earlier).  In fact, were it not for the stupid things that I do as avoidance strategies, my life would be a lot more boring!  So, stress levels to one side, the OU not only gives me qualifications, but enriches my life in ways I hadn't even been aware of.

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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

Back

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Yup, back home.

What a fantastic weekend!  The highlight was hearing Rachel Sermanni sing and play.  She came across as a really likeable person, as well as fantastically talented.  New music discovery - always welcome!  Oh, actually seeing Omar Hakim drum was also pretty cool.  I love listening to drumming, and he did one of the best solos I have heard in ages.  I wasn't enthralled by the rest of that particular gig though, disappointingly. 

Seems a bit boring back home now, after being so busy having fun.  My liver is probably grateful though. 

Got back to a package of course materials.  I am so daft in my decision making sometimes.  I spend hours making decisions to do things that bear a remarkable resemblance to the impromptu and ill-considered actions of a complete idiot moron.

Having had a phone call between the last sentence and this, I have to amend the former.  It is more the actions of a fool, given that I have just discovered that an idiot is a person with a mental age below 3 years, and a moron is a person with a mental age of 7-12 years, while a fool is simply a ridiculous person. I can't imagine how I could have pulled off both the others simultaneously.  Some kind of scary pre-teen toddler hybrid.  Imagine the tantrums.  Incidentally, yes, it was a boring phonecall that I did not feel required my full attention.

So the next few days are dedicated to writing my B assignment.  Then, I will have 2 S courses on the go.  So they will have to have new references.  SK124 is S1, and SD329 is S3.  So then February til April should be used to get ahead in both B and S3, because this fool starts 2 more courses in May.  Both are short courses I am pleased to say, but nonetheless, appear quite time consuming for their brief 10-week existence. 

Still, clever as I undoubtedly am, I felt that given the excessively stressful time constraints, that the best course of action would be to write my blog.

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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

Glasgow

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Without question, one of my favourite places to be. So, this is my first ever blog entry by phone, so I hope it comes out normally. I did my 2 weeks hard study as promised. Pretty much up together on the B course now, just gotta write the assignment when I get back. And I did the next iCMA for the S course. I regret that in some ways as I was so excited about Glasgow I didn't take it as seriously as I would normally do, and did not take much care... So there were a few stupid errors, like clicking enter before I had even attempted to answer a question, d'oh. Still, who cares, I'm in Glasgow!!! Leaving home is always very stressful for me, and it takes a huge amount of strength and will power for me to leave my comfort zone. This particular trip is one of the few that makes it into the category of being 'worth it'. I arrived yesterday. The train journey was pretty manic, though in the 5 hours I only entered into panic twice, and I managed to keep it entirely to myself, so I am pleased with that. Last night, went out and got nicely drunk, in order to acclimatise to my new surroundings. Wine, lager, drambuie and ginger beer (a new and wonderful discovery), and cointreau to finish. An unusual mix for me, but all good. Fully acclimatised, today I went into town and bought a coat. Acclimatised to the surroundings, but not the temperature y'see! Bumped into an old mate from Bath who is staying in the same hotel (that's not a total coincidence as he's playing at the festival Sunday night, but it's still fairly cool). Off to the cinema in a bit to see Black Swan. Then out on the town tonight to catch some music, somewhere. Two gigs tomorrow, more drinking, then home Monday. Oh and I also found my favourite whisky, which I will be bulk buying before I leave. So far, everything has been perfect. I am happy happy happy!
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Zumba

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What??!!

Ha ha, well what can I say?!

I struggle with the vast majority of social situations, and for this very reason push myself as much as is possible.  If I don't want to do something, I don't consider it to be personal preference (and thus a reasonable excuse), but something that perhaps I should just 'give a go'.  Unless it is something that I actively dislike, I always try to do something at least once.

So... I was invited to a zumba class.  My first instinct was to run away.  BUT...!  It is a class at my gym, and the purpose of joining the gym was to relieve anxiety whilst having to socialise a little.  So although I tend to go at (precisely) 8.30am, - because it is always quiet then - I always make sure I acknowledge at least one person (psychological trade-off).  And when I'm feeling super sociable I try to acknowledge someone in the changing rooms too (if they're dressed).

So, when this invite was given, it was given as a negative invite... 'you wouldn't cope with zumba would you? Do you fancy the spin class?'

Hmm, why wouldn't I??  Maybe I would!!

So I went.

Once I had accepted that I am not a 'shake your booty' kind of person (even for the sake of sport), I took to doing a sort of tigger version of what everyone else was doing.  I was quite proud of myself for joining in at all, hugely proud of myself for attempting to do some wiggling (this is most definately a sober first), and more than anything, for keeping it up for the full hour.  All through the session, I kept thinking to myself 'look how happy the instructor is - she can't stop smiling and laughing... it must be good' - and each time I thought it, I tried with renewed effort to grin and shake.

Turns out she was actually just laughing at me smile

 

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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

Two admissions

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I have always felt that there is no luck, no fate, no chance, and that facebook is a waste of time.  In fact I only just reactivated my facebook account last month after closing it for over a year.  An account that had only been open for a few months!

I have to go to London tomorrow, and I don't want to.  I don't like busy places, and I don't like shopping.  The only thing I don't mind about the whole day out is the lunch that I would normally be bought, and the wine I would normally drink with my lunch.  This time though, said food and wine funds are being spent in the shops.  This news came as a grave disappointment.  But I'm going as a favour, and as a friend.  The sales in London... just typing it fills me with horror.

The first chosen destination is Liberty.  Oh joy, material shopping.  Probably the worst form.  Could be placed a little above furniture or carpets I guess.  Could be; we'll see.

I have an old cousin who I adore, and have done so since I was tiny, and who I haven't seen for 10 years.  I haven't seen the vast majority of my family for 10 years, out of goodwill.

The goodwill is no longer necessary, as all parties regained contact in September, and I am now permitted to speak with whoever I choose.

So I went onto facebook today.  Here is my first admission.  I searched for this cousin, found him, and invited him as a friend.  I have always claimed that facebook serves me no purpose other than to waste my time.  This is an exception to that.

He accepted.

My cousin sent me a message asking what I was up to.  Aside from a general overview of the past 10 years, I told him about the impending trip to London (excluding the bit about the food and wine!).

He messaged me back earlier today and said "My office is on Great Marlborough Street about 100m from Liberty!  I can take you for lunch..."

So this is my second admission.  Perhaps, maybe, possibly, everything is not completely random.  Though, to be honest, neither are completely true admissions, as I still don't believe what I have written to be anymore than coincidence, and I believe this particular facebook experience to be highly atypical.

Perhaps a better title would have been "Some words: an avoidance of an inaccurate title".

Still, I like to think I have considered here the possibility that my opinions are open to dispute.

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Supporting my old banjo teacher!

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For anyone who likes a bit of old fashioned bluegrass, I have been asked to spread the word... (I didn't think of putting it here until just now!).  If you don't like bluegrass (and specifically folk for the first two links!) then don't click any of the links, you will hate them!

A few tracks to listen to...

http://www.thescovilleunits.com/

Free download...

http://thescovilleunits.bandcamp.com/track/angeline

And my personal favourite...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2MgAmEZlnUg

This was one of the first 'proper' songs Leon ever taught me, and never fails to make me feel happy.

Hope someone enjoys!!

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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

Thinking

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Edited by ROSIE Rushton-Stone, Tuesday, 11 Jan 2011, 01:37

I have spent a long time over thinking about writing this, but I conclude that as it is my blog, then I can if I want.

And this is what I want to say, which out of decency I haven't posted to a forum....

People are people.  There must be a trillion traits, of which a million (may) make up an individual... it makes no odds how able you may or may not be, physically, mentally or otherwise.

The main thing that concerns me with any disability is 'the label'.  I resent it. 

Anybody can achieve anything.  As far as I'm concerned, there are no disabilities, unless you are literally at the point where you can't argue with me, and then, at that level, it's a very different issue.  For the time being, assuming all the negativity that stems from this is informed, then I believe it to be worth discussing.

Ergh, ok, anybody can't achieve anything. But nobody is bound by anyone.  Not really.

Everything is a matter of opinion.  As an example, when I lived in Bath, there was a bloke who drew very poor pictures of half empty beer and cider glasses... ended up selling one and getting a barge... and he had no talent, I am more than certain... I even tried to give him sandwiches from time to time and he quite clearly wished I was dead, and tried to instigate the event.

I've worked with (more-than-me) able-minded people who despite their inability to move unaided have shown incredible levels of inhibition and gratitude, plus much wit aided with sarcasm.  I cannot respect someone more, than the people who have been forced to cope with me through a physical disability.  (I won't give them the link to this blog because believe it or not, the disabled community are not at all PC!)

Still, it remains today that society very much likes to label everything.  When I was a child, I was labelled ADHD, but my (charmingly demanding) mother said NO!  She's just a pain!  Well, whether it was true or not is irrelevant in many ways, the point is that no exceptions were made: I was treated in a very strict manner, and though I still have to do a toe dance when I have to sit still... I do manage to stay put for a period of time.  I just think that a person can be further messed up by people bowing to their every need.  Opposition is not always a bad thing.

I have also worked with complete wankers, who are just that.  They may have every mental and physical disability under the sun... they are still human, and I am still able to like or dislike them. 

When did it become a fact of our inner selves that we were judged on ability rather than personality???

I can honestly say that I would rather spend time with someone that intellectually stimulated me, than someone who can't, yet can play cricket...

I have conversed with so many people who are physically disabled over my years, and it seems we share the same bugbear... Why don't other people just speak their mind?  Without question, the first joke I make to someone in a wheelchair will be about drinking and getting legless.  I don't mean offence, they don't take offence.  Random strangers take offence.  I can't even be bothered to discuss it anymore... until we start to accept that people are people (individual personalities) as opposed to boxed disorders and 'additional needs'... then we're going nowhere.  Change is slow, but all change starts with acceptance.

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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

1 month ago today

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Today is day 31 of my first ever month of blogging.  Could be the end of an experience, or the beginning of a new era for me, hard to say. 

I am spending the next two weeks in self imposed solitary confinement, with only my B text books, the pc (an unfortunate necessity, given my propensity to stray from the course materials) and an excess of pens, all boring colours, and paper.  I have put my sensible head on, and I am dedicating the next two weeks of (previously booked for pleasure) freedom to my studies. 

I will be rewarding myself with a trip to Glasgow to see some bluegrass greats.  That is one of the very rare types of reward that will focus my wayward mind... I can't wait smile

And so to study...

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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

Happy New Year!

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Ah, my favourite week of the year has begun.  The week where I genuinely believe that my study behaviour will change: I make promises to myself that there will be no more last minute panics, and that assignments will be finished weeks in advance.  I'll be organised and maybe do a timetable.  I'll buy brightly coloured post it notes to stick all over the house, and I'll type up all my notes into a logical order, and print them out to carry about with me.  Plus all the things in normal life that I have decided will be different about this year to last year.  I float about all week in happy oblivion and then come crashing down to deadlines and mess.  Still... I've got all of today left, and then at least six more days of happy cloud hopping, I love it!  Anything is possible!  And all the while I keep this fantasy alive, I see no reason to open my books just yet because the imaginary timetable can handle any workload... a few days won't make much difference. 

I wish everyone a very happy 2011, and success in their studies.

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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

Procrastination over, for one day

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Today went well, I read the next two chapters of the SK book, and then did the iCMA.  Woohoo, don't need to open those books again until the New Year!!!

The next hurdle is the B course, but I think I'll revel in my achievement today a little longer, before acknowledging how comparatively inconsequential it is (compared to how far behind I am now in the B course).  Still, a second deadline looming at the end of January will force me into action at some point, I just hope it's further in advance of the deadline than before, as the last marathon nearly wiped me out, and was a reactant for the following 15 day holiday.  I have broken the cycle today, at long last.

There's still one deadline looming this month though... Christmas.  Ergh.  I had vaguely accepted the possibility that no one was going to make it as a fact... which turns out to be highly likely to be proven incorrect... and consequently I am going to have to buy gifts.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not a mean person, but I cannot stand buying gifts to demand.  I like to buy things as and when I see them, that people will like, and then give them to the person straight away.  The thought of walking around the ice rink that is the town centre, searching through all the crap for a glimmer of originality, or indeed gifts that are beneficial to the recipient in any which way, fills me with horror.  It's only 22nd, there's plenty of time right?

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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

Fit for purpose

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I have just used this blog as a blog.  I have been logging my occasional attempts at study, without being aware of it as such, and I have just looked back and discovered that I have been trying to motivate myself since December 6th. 

Before Christmas comes I have to at least get the SK course up to date.  I still haven't started Chapter 3, although at least I've read the forum discussion around it.  The forum discussion for Chapter 4 (I guess) seems to be about theory of mind...  I had a minor panic attack reading that, thinking it was a much disliked topic for me, but I was thinking of philosophy of mind... phew.  Though, inevitably these subjects always merge.  It brought back to me exactly how much I love and hate philosophy.  More hate than love.  I'm compelled to read it, and then become instantly irritated and frustrated by it.  Funny how it works like that, much like being compelled to look at something that I know will turn my stomach, or watch something that I know will scare me.  It seems to be a common human feature to be compelled to behave in ways which will ultimately make us uncomfortable in some way... it seems that in terms of evolution this is a strange and unhelpful trait to have held onto.

 

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ROSIE Rushton-Stone

Snow

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Much like the 'which came first' scenarios (the chicken and the egg), there are the 'which would be worse' situations - this used to apply to the 'having a cigarette but no lighter, or having a lighter but no cigarette' conundrum.

This week it applies to Christmas.  My mother is supposed to be travelling up from Devon.  She is an extremely particular person, and as such, I have had to order lots and lots of extravagant food and drink, at least by my standards - acting more as a buffer, than to fulfil any nutritional requirements - 'have another drink!' 'have another snack!' 

Now I can't decide which would be worse... If my mother doesn't make it, and I'm landed with an excessive bill for food and drink that I don't want... or if my mother does make it, and then the food can't be delivered.

I continue to make no progress in my studies.

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