Ambition

S.N.I.P.

Smile. Nod. Ignore. Proceed.

An acronym I've used before in this blog, and something I have been using all too much recently. It's come to the point now that I pretty much live my life according to the Snip religion. Why is it there are so many ignorant, miserable and self-centred people here? People who's sole purpose in life appears to be working in a call centre and belittling people, both inside and outside work. People who would rather resent you for having dreams and ambitions than sort out their own monotonous shallow life.

Of course, smiling, nodding, ignoring and proceeding is probably detrimental to my anxiety. I bottle everything up because I know I only have to put up with these people for another 9 months. I appreciate I'm going to find assholes wherever I go, but the sheer volume of them here is just obscene. Again, I go back to a point I've previously made: people in Medway are completely content with squashing their lives into a tiny box, and then they resent you for not doing the same.

My anxiety has been rough the last week. What if this doesn't clear up by the time I leave? Can I realistically travel with this? Right now I can barely hold a conversation. Breathing is hard enough, and trying to sleep is torture. I must have woke up ten times throughout the night last night. 

I really need to get into 'naked butler' shape in time for Boston. It's very difficult to get motivated right now when you're worried you could have a panic attack at any minute, but I'm still squeezing in 3 to 4 sessions a week, albeit less strenuous and thorough.

--- Next Day --- 

I've just found out my laptop will be sidelined until at least Friday. Fuck. I hate blogging on my phone.

I went to see the doctor today. My usual guy wasn't in and I had this completely useless numpty who didn't seem to understand that I had had next to no sleep in 48 hours and that I could barely breathe. So no progress.

If this truly is anxiety and the Echocardiogram thingy comes out fine, then I'm determined not to let this beat me. I WILL go travelling. If I'm stressed then I'll find a way to unwind. Some people recommend yoga. I've tried copious amounts of alcohol and fags, and I can categorically say that they do not work. Maybe I should start a new hobby. Maybe I should start sleeping around abit; I don't think anyone can argue that that's a pretty bloody awesome stress relief. Maybe I'll start playing whale music throughout the house, or panpipes...

I'll beat this thing. Thailand is calling. Australia is calling. America is bloody well screaming. Time to look old Mr Anxiety Disorder in the eyes and say "Get the fuck out of my face". Does he not know who the fuck I am?! 

Luke

Cutie

Last night was absolutely perfect. Death Cab were stunning. I was blown away by how good they sounded live, and the atmosphere inside Brixton Academy was brilliant. To be surrounded by so many people with the same taste in music was surreal considering almost everyone I have spoken to since have never even heard of Death Cab for Cutie. They literally took my breath away and it was by far the best gig I have ever been to. 

Today was spent trying to keep my head up at work and trying to find someone else who knew who Death Cab were. It's 1900hrs and I still need to eat, but I have every intention of getting to bed by 2000hrs. I am exhausted. But just physically at the moment. Mentally, I feel good; I don't feel stressed or angsty (is that even a word?!) and I am relaxed. Probably the Beta Blockers, that. Tomorrow I'm up at stupid o'clock for 8 more hours of double-rate overtime and then a session in the gym. No rest for the wicked. 

Annie brought up an interesting point last night. She mentioned the engagement ring I bought her, which she still has in her safe. I have always said to her I don't want it back, I wanted her to keep it. You know, think of me in five or ten years time when her life is miserable and lonely and remember how good she had it. Yesterday, she said she was thinking of asking me if she could sell it, and split the cash 50/50 to put in our respective savings (she is leaving for Australia in December). It's a difficult situation. The ring itself is worth around £1200 retail value. I'm not sure how much we would get selling it, but I can't decide if I'm comfortable with selling it. A ring isn't just an expensive piece of jewellery; it's a memento in the same way a photo or a family heirloom is. I'm not sure you can put a price on that. 

Or is it? Maybe it is just an expensive piece of jewellery. Why keep it when Annie and I have very little emotional attachment? Perhaps it's just an unnecessary reminder of the past and how much has changed. 

Windows leading to the past

Think it's time I broke some glass

Get this history off my mind

You know, it's kinda cliché to say that music means the world to me. Everyone and their Nan seems to say this. But there's something about good music that helps you escape the stress and routine of everyday life. No matter how bad my mood is or how rough my day has been, a good song can change everything in an instant. Certain people can always put a smile on your face, but in the same respect, certain songs can do the same. Last night, not only did Death Cab melt my face and rock my world, but the supporting act also wowed me. That feeling when you discover a new artist and instantly fall in love with them is incredible and it happens all too rarely for my liking, but it happened last night. The band are called 'The Head and The Heart', and I instantly fell in love with their chirpy folky sounds. I also instantly fell in love with the blonde and her violin. As much as I would love to end on a Death Cab song, I think it's only fitting to end on this quirky beautiful little number. 

Luke

Heart

Sheesh. I sure know how to jinx this Blog. There's me talking about a lack of life-changing revelations, and then BAM. Crazy things start happening. It's like the big man upstairs is reading this Blog and fucking with me. You crafty one, you.

So last Friday, at around 3pm, I had what I believe was a Panic attack (or Anxiety attack, I'm still not sure if there is a difference). I couldn't breathe and I felt like I was going to pass out. I was sent home and spent the whole weekend gasping for air and struggling to catch my breath after the most basic of activities such as eating a large meal or speaking a long sentence. But, being a Mitchell, I soldiered on assuming things would just get better in a few days. But they didn't.

So I get home from work yesterday to find the whole block has no electricity. After the initial excitement of the potential of an impending Zombie Invasion, it became clear this powercut was not one of the cool kind, particularly when the pneumatic drill decided to wake me up every ten minutes at 3am. Then, at just before 5am, the street finally lit up. And then the shit really hit the fan. The burglar alarm had reset and starting going off. And I couldn't find the reset code. So after 5 minutes of one of the most horrificly peircing sounds I have ever heard, I decided to cut the wire.

Stay with me. There's more.

8am. I'm outside the Doctors to book an appointment.

9am. I'm in Tesco replacing the defrosted contents of my freezer. The entire freezer. Did I mention I'm on a real strict budget with saving for travelling?

10am. Doctor's appointment. She whips out that crazy stethoscope thing. Turns out I may have a heart murmur. I'm sent for an ECG and a blood test, with the view to having an ultrasound next week.

1pm. I'm at the hospital. The doctor nearly had to shave my chest because the little sensor pads wouldn't stay on. IT'S NOT EVEN THAT HAIRY!!

2pm. Back to the GP to give her my results.

And now I wait, which is probably the worst part. I want to know I'm alright. I feel like I'm in limbo at the moment with the holiday a little over a week away and my attendance looking less likely by the day. No gym, no protein shakes, no beer, no cigarettes, no caffeine, no work. Just me, at home, with 6 One Tree Hill Boxsets to keep me company.

Wait. Why am I complaining again? :D

I'm trying to work out why I had the panic attack on Friday. I've come to the conclusion that it was lots of different thing. Stress from working so much overtime. Stress from breaking up with Annie last year and dealing with her mess. Stress from saving every penny possible. From worrying about what I'm going to do with the house, the furniture. Physical stress from the gym and the strict diet of massive amounts of protein and as little fat as possible. And that's just scratching the surface. It's weird though, I actually felt happy. The last few weeks I've been in a glorious mood despite all of the above. Very odd.

I miss Ella. She is in Istanbul this week. I think I'm going to go and see her in September in Boston. I figure, free accommodation, free cooking and free beer is too good an offer to refuse, especially when I'll be sharing that bed, food and beer with the girl I DEFINITELY AM NOT INFATUATED WITH. Definitely not.

Alas, I sit here with my green tea watching Red Dwarf feeling sorry for myself. I need cheering up.

Luke