Sunday, 15 August 2010

'What's wrong? Is it your dysmenorrhea? It's your dysmenorrhea right? '...

Erm (with stressed emphasis on the r'...). Hi.

It is probable that whoever stumbles upon this blog/ masterpiece of articulated nothings will think of me as none other than neurotic. Thank you, if that's what you think! You have officially, made my day.

Unless you know, you really do think I have brain problems, a la the real meaning of the word neurotic. Of which I don't. And thanks for listening to that unnecessary prologue to this post.

Anyhows. I shall begin by (kindly) telling you what 'dysmenorrhea' means. It is the lady's monthly friend, that three - to- five days inconvenience  (yet vitally important for ze baby making) known as our PERIOD. 'Dysmenorrhea', is simply the scientists' way of making 'artistic' people (that is, all people who are not excited about DNA and electromagneticism. Yes, all you hardworking lawyers and the like are artists) feel inferior at our ability to use such irrelevant words on a daily basis when words such as 'period' would suffice. Unfortunate, isn't it? 

What is even more unfortunate is that after hearing your professor use the word 'dysmenorrhea' infinity times during one lecture (whilst making a litany of grammatical errors), you find yourself telling jokes that include the word. And it saddens me that this is what my life is to become in the years to come.

At least this time, the dysmenorrhea joke wasn't mine! No, it was my friend's attempt at making me smile on my 'this is not a good day, why-is-life-so-skittles-and-how-come-no-leprechauns-can-give-me-lucky-gold' day. And did I LOL! So much, because i'm sure he was semi-serious when he asked, more so because a) he   most likely did not want to know about my 'dysmenorrhea' related problems and b) he's just nice and caring like that and was willing to factor my feminine cycle into my unhappiness. And the whole thing got me thinking about the good ol' days when all life was about was;

Playing outdoors half-naked, smothered in Dusting Powder with the neighbours. There were no baby - snatchers or child fondlers to watch out for (Thank God for that... what with me naked and all!)

Waiting for The Flintstones to be on at 7pm and hoping to sneak in two more cartoons before bedtime.

Playing shopkeeper with empty tins and biscuit boxes AND old magazines and newspapers right down to making the damn money to buy our 'goods' with. *Gosh that shop had it all... Hot chocolate, Coffee, Milk... you name it... So who cares if it was in my mother's well kept sitting room? *

Teaching my teddies and dolls how to spell and write their numbers... And beating the crap out of them when they weren't listening *Do NOT even attempt to judge*

Deciding what colour hair bubbles were going to beautify my afro puffs for Sunday School...

Watching Tom&Jerry with such avid concentration for HOURS(I can't watch it for more than ten minutes these days), and wanting to go to Looniversity. Yes.
Well... Enough of the nostalgia. Just writing this is reminding me of the immense, childlike happiness I felt back when there were no 'I wonder if he knows I even exist/why do I like him so much' thoughts on my mind, or 'why the heck am I not in Peru fulfilling my life long dream of grooming dolphins and studying to become a boring 9-5ing pharmacist?'. Or even freaking 'dysmenorrhea'  problems. 


The other day, I spent the better part of two hours talking with a six year old about her favourite things in life (said kid happens to be dysmenorrhea- joker's sister, btw), which includes everything Disney Channel has to offer, and then some. So, the conversation, as you've guessed was of the 'Troy - Gabriella' persuasion... And she told me every. single. detail. about the movies, all three of them, right down to the part where Troy's stuck in a tree talking to Gabriella. And that happiness I'm going on about was so very evident in her voice, that I wanted to be that little kid again, who watched too many cartoons and begged her mother to buy her Oliver Twist when she was seven.  I miss that aspect of my life!

So now, i'm determined to get back to that happy place. Enough of the wallowing, of the feeling sorry for myself and those poor dolphins who could be getting some of my lovin', and all the crap life has to offer in SPADES. Starting from today, hopefully. Yours truly shall get back into society, and actually talk to real people, not just talking to myself on Twitter. 

Amen. Thus, from this, I have decided that i'm going to paint pictures from my happy happy times... Like Tom  & Jerry and all my other favourite cartoon characters for my room at university! So that whenever I feel crappy, I have Wilma's face staring down at me... Or Blossom... Or Shaggy!

I guess the point of 'THIS' is to encourage you to find your happy place as well... or something... Okay? Look for it and have fun with it! Because life is way too short to wallow. Trust me.

Yeah. I should get going now. Too much talkations... Not good eh? Sorry.

Bisous and escargots!


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