August 5th, 2006



In an attempt  at sanity, (the excursion would have totalled about £25-30 all in...) and due to the returning humidity and too-hot for me-ness, plus the fact that I'm still 'iffy' and gobbing up gunge between sneezing paroxysms, I  didn't go to CAPTION.
Because I wasn't there, it probably was a really, really good one. 'Everyone' certainly seemed to be going. I particularly fancied the Al Davison workshop, although (surprise!) I'm rather scared of him. I hope someone writes it up in detail. Even if I'd gone, though, I doubt if I'd been able to stumble out of my pit around 6:45 to make it for the early start, though.
My VCR seems to be going mental again. I definitely have been checking to see if the timer is set right, but I still keep taping  the wrong station and/or time. Mucho aggro. Why this happen?
I schlepped to dismal Streatham (What a bad karma place!) for CBT again. My therapist's name seems to be Babawawa, and for the second time I've had to reprise half-forgotten details of my excuse for a life . I did about two hours of that drek months ago, when I applied for the course. She still hasn't finished. I also had one of those 'How depressed are you, really?' forms to fill in. She looked shocked when she calculated the score, and said. 'We'll come back to this another time...'
Next week, maybe we'll actually get a few minutes of  therapy in, although I'm afraid it really does consist mostly of making lists about  what you like/don't like about yourself, and learning to pretend that your negative thought patterns can be changed. Unfortunately, in my experience this is bollocks, you can keep telling yourself that you're  a fine, talented worthwhile human being , not even all that hideous, and not phobic about dozens of things/situations, but  it simply doesn't change the grim reality. Still, I do feel it's a good idea to keep trying, though, however futile the exercise. Eh...

I just missed bagging a set of 4 Pentel brush pens on Ebay for £4.50 too. Bum.
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