Definitely the latter.
So yeah, apparently, it's a holiday tomorrow. I think my work manager was pulling my leg. Got Monday off, too. 's all good.
Forgot to ask about the costume party, too. Durhurhur.
Thursday, 28 April 2011
Wednesday, 27 April 2011
Birther Movement and Costume Party
I laughed at Obama's press statement when he presented his birth certificate. That's pathetic, America.
Oh, and one of my work friends invited me to a costume party. I'll find something, no doubt. Or I can go a Welshman. That's pretty damn scary, though.
... wait, I don't know when it is. Er.
Oh, and one of my work friends invited me to a costume party. I'll find something, no doubt. Or I can go a Welshman. That's pretty damn scary, though.
... wait, I don't know when it is. Er.
Tuesday, 26 April 2011
Another Envelope - "Seek"
That title seems almost ominous. Simply put, that envelope. The outside of the envelope is pretty much the same, except there's a new word in the lower-right. "Seek". Do note that for the first shot, I forgot to turn the flash off. Shiiiiiiiiiine.
God, I'm tired. I would laugh at this, but I'm really, really tired.
Don't expect me to be posting as regularly as I have been. I don't think I'm getting enough sleep... however, I am intrigued by something.
The Envelope
It's the same as the first one, except it says "Seek". I'll retake this later, if anyone's interested.
Back of Envelope (Open)
It's all the same as the other one. I just took a shot of how it looked when I opened it. This sheet is smaller then the other one, I think.
Paper in the Envelope (Front, Outside)
"Janus". It's all standard here, not like the funky letters on the other page.
Paper in the Envelope (Reverse, Outside)
Another poem. Can the interested parties make this out?
Paper in the Envelope (Front, Inside)
A triangle with a line through it. Better drawn then the circle, slightly, although I'm wondering what the obsession with shapes-with-lines-through them is/
Paper in the Envelope (Reverse, Inside)
"Aporia". And "II".
God, I'm tired. I would laugh at this, but I'm really, really tired.
Don't expect me to be posting as regularly as I have been. I don't think I'm getting enough sleep... however, I am intrigued by something.
"Janus". I learnt that name in school. It's the Roman god of doors. Now, isn't that interesting? Considering my run-in with the hallucination? So, mystery sender, how did you know about that? Or did you just think it was a good name and slapped it on?
I want to go over these. Now, readers of the blog... do you have anything? Do you, in any case, care? I doubt it. But if you know what anything in this blog means... tell me. I want to know about this. "Janus". Janus, Janus, Janus...
Monday, 25 April 2011
I Hate my Relatives -Part Two-
Listen up, kids, 'cause this is where it gets weird.
From what I can remember, I walked away from the station. I think the idea was to walk to the nearest town so I could use a payphone to get a taxi or something. It doesn't matter. As divulged previously, I got lost.
So, I ended up wandering the woods. I'm not sure where they were, exactly, but they were fairly large. I kept wandering; I was in a lucid state of mind, so the noises I heard probably didn't bother me. I kept wandering, wondering when I'd reach the town.
For all of my foggy memories when it comes to important stuff, this next bit is... well, preserved on my brain. I don't plan to throw it down a drain. I walked into a clearing, and saw some curious trees in front of me. Even though the fog had rolled in, I knew that most of the trees in this forest were tall, strong; not these ones. They were tangled and gnarled; they twisted together at some point, leaning against each other to raise themselves higher.
And between the trunks of these trees, I saw a Door.
Now, you may ask why I bolded that, and gave it a capital letter. That door wasn't like normal doors. It just... it seems like something you'd use a capital letter for. Something that sees it's name spelled with the lower-case d and slaps you for it. As for the bold... it seems fitting. It seemed... real. More real then things that are real.
That doesn't make sense. But it seemed to stand out, to jump out. Like compared to it, the rest of the world was a dimension behind it. Now, I can list off some little things about the Door. For one, it was made of solid wood; like, a really expensive wood, the name of which escapes me. Not like the rotting wood of the trees at all. Secondly, it was a double-leaf door. As in, there was a vertical divide between two panels. I noted, here, that there were no door handles, but that I could not see the door's hinges, so you'd push the Door open. Thirdly, the moon was behind it. The trees beside it cast shadows, but the Door did not.
So, I, in my addled state, walked towards the Door and pushed it open. Beyond it... I can't really remember. Lots of white, large, shining buildings; I was, I admit, quite entranced by them. Holding the Doorframe, I put a foot into it, and then another. I was almost ready to let go of the Doorframe, to walk into it...
Then I came to my senses, and took two steps back. And then my memory goes really foggy again. The next thing I know, it's morning. I'm sat in the dirt, looking up at the sun rising. I'm in a forest, no fog.
I began walking again, and find a road. I look at the sign.
I won't say where I was, but it was pretty damn far from my planned train route. I spent most of Sunday walking along the road to a town, asking where the train station is and if I can hire a taxi, and stuff like that. Got back pretty damn late.
What happened? I've got a pretty damn good guess. Given my faulty memory, lucid state and obvious hallucinations... presumably speaking, I must have accidentally taken some hallucinogenics when I was at the funeral, or the house afterwards. I didn't take anything but money with me, and it's all there (besides taxi fare). It's just annoying to interact with my extended family for a couple of hours, then find myself hallucinating about doors. Simply put, I think it's likely that I hallucinated the Door, then got lost. I might well have gone back to the station and caught a train to the place where I woke up.
I found another envelope this morning. Musta been posted before I woke up. I haven't opened it yet. I'll do that tomorrow, after work. I still feel tired from all that walking.
Fuck my relatives. Painfully.
From what I can remember, I walked away from the station. I think the idea was to walk to the nearest town so I could use a payphone to get a taxi or something. It doesn't matter. As divulged previously, I got lost.
So, I ended up wandering the woods. I'm not sure where they were, exactly, but they were fairly large. I kept wandering; I was in a lucid state of mind, so the noises I heard probably didn't bother me. I kept wandering, wondering when I'd reach the town.
For all of my foggy memories when it comes to important stuff, this next bit is... well, preserved on my brain. I don't plan to throw it down a drain. I walked into a clearing, and saw some curious trees in front of me. Even though the fog had rolled in, I knew that most of the trees in this forest were tall, strong; not these ones. They were tangled and gnarled; they twisted together at some point, leaning against each other to raise themselves higher.
And between the trunks of these trees, I saw a Door.
Now, you may ask why I bolded that, and gave it a capital letter. That door wasn't like normal doors. It just... it seems like something you'd use a capital letter for. Something that sees it's name spelled with the lower-case d and slaps you for it. As for the bold... it seems fitting. It seemed... real. More real then things that are real.
That doesn't make sense. But it seemed to stand out, to jump out. Like compared to it, the rest of the world was a dimension behind it. Now, I can list off some little things about the Door. For one, it was made of solid wood; like, a really expensive wood, the name of which escapes me. Not like the rotting wood of the trees at all. Secondly, it was a double-leaf door. As in, there was a vertical divide between two panels. I noted, here, that there were no door handles, but that I could not see the door's hinges, so you'd push the Door open. Thirdly, the moon was behind it. The trees beside it cast shadows, but the Door did not.
So, I, in my addled state, walked towards the Door and pushed it open. Beyond it... I can't really remember. Lots of white, large, shining buildings; I was, I admit, quite entranced by them. Holding the Doorframe, I put a foot into it, and then another. I was almost ready to let go of the Doorframe, to walk into it...
Then I came to my senses, and took two steps back. And then my memory goes really foggy again. The next thing I know, it's morning. I'm sat in the dirt, looking up at the sun rising. I'm in a forest, no fog.
I began walking again, and find a road. I look at the sign.
I won't say where I was, but it was pretty damn far from my planned train route. I spent most of Sunday walking along the road to a town, asking where the train station is and if I can hire a taxi, and stuff like that. Got back pretty damn late.
What happened? I've got a pretty damn good guess. Given my faulty memory, lucid state and obvious hallucinations... presumably speaking, I must have accidentally taken some hallucinogenics when I was at the funeral, or the house afterwards. I didn't take anything but money with me, and it's all there (besides taxi fare). It's just annoying to interact with my extended family for a couple of hours, then find myself hallucinating about doors. Simply put, I think it's likely that I hallucinated the Door, then got lost. I might well have gone back to the station and caught a train to the place where I woke up.
I found another envelope this morning. Musta been posted before I woke up. I haven't opened it yet. I'll do that tomorrow, after work. I still feel tired from all that walking.
Fuck my relatives. Painfully.
Sunday, 24 April 2011
I Hate my Relatives -Part One-
I really, really do.
So, I went to the funeral. It was actually late in the afternoon, so I was cool to drive up there with a cousin. Said I'd catch a train back, since I hoped to be out of there in the near future. Anyway, got there, went to the funeral. Very emotional, as I'm sure you'd think. I didn't shed many tears for someone who was, to me, a complete stranger. And they don't come much stranger then my extended family. Actually, they do, but.
Now, here's the problem. My memory gets spotty after the funeral.
Anyway, went back to... some house with most of my family. Presumably to catch up or something. I spent an hour or two there, avoiding the drinks being passed around. I wandered around a bit, before walking into a room on the first floor, and was immediately basked in noxious fumes, followed by a shout of "get out or get in, close the damn door". I got out, on the basis that whatever I breathed in made me feel more than a little sick. Presumably, some of my family were getting together to smoke some new illegal drug. Or something. I know more about the symptoms of drugs then I do about the things myself (on the basis that I can do permanent brain damage to myself very easily without help, thank you very much).
Anyway, I said my goodbyes (probably) and headed out. I think I went straight to the nearest train station - I'd memorised the trains I'd need to get back (or at least which platforms I'd need to get out at). Waited for a train, caught one, proceeded.
It got dark pretty damn fast. I'd forgotten my watch at home, and my mobile phone was out of battery. My head still ached from the stuff I'd breathed in, and I honestly can't recall checking the time at any point (even though I'd need to look at the times to recognise the trains). Maybe I did and just forgot.
Anyway, an announcement came up, saying that the train had reached the end of it's line. At some train station in the middle of goddamned nowhere. I sighed, got out at the place, and sat down. A lovely fog had rolled in here (wherever it was), and it was dark, so the lights by the place were blaring. It looked like something out of a horror film... why can I remember that image so vividly, but not the goddamn time?
Whatever. After some time, I... well, I think I got up and walked away. I think I planned to walk to the next station or something. But I couldn't stay by the tracks for obvious safety reasons (plus, fences), but I knew the direction, so I went in that direction.
I think I got lost. Actually, I know I got lost, as I'll later divulge.
Right now? I'm really damn tired and want to go to bed. Some things just don't make sense with what I remember.
So, I went to the funeral. It was actually late in the afternoon, so I was cool to drive up there with a cousin. Said I'd catch a train back, since I hoped to be out of there in the near future. Anyway, got there, went to the funeral. Very emotional, as I'm sure you'd think. I didn't shed many tears for someone who was, to me, a complete stranger. And they don't come much stranger then my extended family. Actually, they do, but.
Now, here's the problem. My memory gets spotty after the funeral.
Anyway, went back to... some house with most of my family. Presumably to catch up or something. I spent an hour or two there, avoiding the drinks being passed around. I wandered around a bit, before walking into a room on the first floor, and was immediately basked in noxious fumes, followed by a shout of "get out or get in, close the damn door". I got out, on the basis that whatever I breathed in made me feel more than a little sick. Presumably, some of my family were getting together to smoke some new illegal drug. Or something. I know more about the symptoms of drugs then I do about the things myself (on the basis that I can do permanent brain damage to myself very easily without help, thank you very much).
Anyway, I said my goodbyes (probably) and headed out. I think I went straight to the nearest train station - I'd memorised the trains I'd need to get back (or at least which platforms I'd need to get out at). Waited for a train, caught one, proceeded.
It got dark pretty damn fast. I'd forgotten my watch at home, and my mobile phone was out of battery. My head still ached from the stuff I'd breathed in, and I honestly can't recall checking the time at any point (even though I'd need to look at the times to recognise the trains). Maybe I did and just forgot.
Anyway, an announcement came up, saying that the train had reached the end of it's line. At some train station in the middle of goddamned nowhere. I sighed, got out at the place, and sat down. A lovely fog had rolled in here (wherever it was), and it was dark, so the lights by the place were blaring. It looked like something out of a horror film... why can I remember that image so vividly, but not the goddamn time?
Whatever. After some time, I... well, I think I got up and walked away. I think I planned to walk to the next station or something. But I couldn't stay by the tracks for obvious safety reasons (plus, fences), but I knew the direction, so I went in that direction.
I think I got lost. Actually, I know I got lost, as I'll later divulge.
Right now? I'm really damn tired and want to go to bed. Some things just don't make sense with what I remember.
Friday, 22 April 2011
Leaving
Forever!
... nah, sorry. You aren't getting rid of me that easily. Heading up to Scotland in the morning, so I won't be updating until, like, Monday. I've arranged for some leave off work (even if it meant, basically, changing my shift days around for the coming week, so I won't have any shifts on Monday, but will on Friday).
Unrelated, I'll be going back to five-day shifts the week after next, which means more money. Which is cool.
In summary, off to Scotland so I can talk to some people on drugs while trying to look sad. See ya Monday.
... nah, sorry. You aren't getting rid of me that easily. Heading up to Scotland in the morning, so I won't be updating until, like, Monday. I've arranged for some leave off work (even if it meant, basically, changing my shift days around for the coming week, so I won't have any shifts on Monday, but will on Friday).
Unrelated, I'll be going back to five-day shifts the week after next, which means more money. Which is cool.
In summary, off to Scotland so I can talk to some people on drugs while trying to look sad. See ya Monday.
Wednesday, 20 April 2011
Photographs
Anyway, here it is. Obviously, it's already been taken out of the envelope, but I put it back in while taking shots.
Yeah, whatever. 2/10 for effort, kids, but I could do better then this in my sleep. I don't even know why I'm posting this, but it's a welcome distraction from other stuff. Took the photos this morning, and personally handed it to the recycling-truck-guy. I'm gonna ask the other people in the street if they had some similar ones, just to check. If any of you care, I have go more shots of the thing on my camera... these are just the ones I grabbed off it.
Front of Envelope
Er...I can't find my picture for this. It's blank, except for the below symbol in the upper-right corner.
Front of Envelope (Zoom)
Not sure what this is meant to be. It looks a bit like a stickman with his legs on his head, doesn't it? This is where the stamp should be, which is odd - it won't get delivered without a stamp. Or an address, for that matter, and it has neither.
Back of Envelope
"Sincerely", I think. Aren't you meant to put that stuff inside the letter?
Back of Envelope (Opened)
No text but the upside-down letters on the paper. This was how it was orientated when I opened it.
Paper in the Envelope (Front, Outside)
Sorry, bit blurry... couldn't get the camera to take a good damn shot. Anyway, it says "Epic"... well, that's what I thought it said. The p looks a bit off, the i doesn't have a dot and the c's got a little five on it. Dunno what that's about.
Paper in the Envelope (Reverse, Outside)
Crappy poetry. Pretty sure you can make out all the words, despite my camera being a mess.
Paper in the Envelope (Reverse, Inside)
Second example of "kids have terrible handwriting" (and more shaky camera, whoa!). It says "Eunoia" (note the dot over the i). Well, either that or "Evnoia"; I'm not sure if that's a soft dipped v or a pointy u... and then a big "I" underneath.
Paper in the Envelope (Front, Inside)
Now this is abominable. That really is terrible penmanship; it looks like a damn diamond with a wonky line through it, and the curved corners make it look like it's meant to be a circle. That's just awful.
Yeah, whatever. 2/10 for effort, kids, but I could do better then this in my sleep. I don't even know why I'm posting this, but it's a welcome distraction from other stuff. Took the photos this morning, and personally handed it to the recycling-truck-guy. I'm gonna ask the other people in the street if they had some similar ones, just to check. If any of you care, I have go more shots of the thing on my camera... these are just the ones I grabbed off it.
Spam Mail from Moron Kids
Yeah, I found this stupid envelope through my letterbox this morning. Probably from kids, I heard 'em running around until all hours last night.
I've got nothing to talk about that I'd want to, work-wise, so I guess I'll upload some pictures tonight.
I've got nothing to talk about that I'd want to, work-wise, so I guess I'll upload some pictures tonight.
Tuesday, 19 April 2011
BBC iPlayer
Is an awesome idea, no matter what anyone says.
Have I Got News for You is a cracking show.
Have I Got News for You is a cracking show.
Monday, 18 April 2011
Note to Self
I should not be watching Internet psuedo-horror things in the early morning when I have work in the morning.
Last time I take a recommendation from this friend. Marble Hornets is no great shakes, in my opinion. It's not bad for an indie thing, but...
Last time I take a recommendation from this friend. Marble Hornets is no great shakes, in my opinion. It's not bad for an indie thing, but...
Sunday, 17 April 2011
And the sun will still keep rising, always deflecting, always disguising...
Here I am; here I remain. This is no sham, there'll be no refrain.
My shifts start again on Monday, so my last day off is Sunday. I'll try and do a post on that day, and a few more as to not go astray.
Anyway, this was going to be about me. Again - did you expect different, maybe?
My shifts start again on Monday, so my last day off is Sunday. I'll try and do a post on that day, and a few more as to not go astray.
Anyway, this was going to be about me. Again - did you expect different, maybe?
Saturday, 16 April 2011
Well, damn. Looks like I'll be spending next weekend in Scotland; had a phone call, saying that some aunt had died and that I was needed.
Whatever. I'll go to keep up appearances, but I'm not hanging around. My extended family is... eh. Most of them have been arrested for various crimes; for a few, it's been many times. Most likely, I'll head to the funeral on Saturday morning, begin heading back in the afternoon, maybe stop in a hotel for the night if I can't make good progress.
Thrills.
Whatever. I'll go to keep up appearances, but I'm not hanging around. My extended family is... eh. Most of them have been arrested for various crimes; for a few, it's been many times. Most likely, I'll head to the funeral on Saturday morning, begin heading back in the afternoon, maybe stop in a hotel for the night if I can't make good progress.
Thrills.
Not what I want to Spend my Morning Doing.
As trite as it is, kids these days have no bloody manners.
Just had to tell one of 'em to piss off out of the next door neighbour's back garden, since they're not due to be awake for another hour.
Good way to start the weekend.
Also: wa-hey, I have a follower. Who follows a bunch of weird blogs. Uh, 'kay.
Also: wa-hey, I have a follower. Who follows a bunch of weird blogs. Uh, 'kay.
Not looking for something is the best way to find it.
Spent five minutes poking around my room, and I found my watch and my camera.
Fiddled with the exposure a bit. Kinda surprised that this thing is still dead on time.
Friday, 15 April 2011
You know so little about me... what if I turn into a werewolf, or something?
Only a god can bruise,
Only a god can soothe,
Only a god reserves the right
To forgive those who revile him
"Journal for Plague Lovers", Journal for Plague Lovers
Fair play, this is a pretty damn good album, eh? Picked it up today, so I'm not too so far away from the modern day as to be a stray. Purchased Postcards from a Young Man; why not, when I can? Not as good as Journal for Plague Lovers, but beggars aren't choosers. I have been meaning to see my cousin, since he has my CD's, all dozen.
Remember you, stretched out in the sun,
All alone forever, conclusions forgone,
Will you find some kind of nothingness?
Still and lonely, like an old-school photograph...
"Some Kind of Nothingness", Postcards from a Young Man
Only a god can soothe,
Only a god reserves the right
To forgive those who revile him
"Journal for Plague Lovers", Journal for Plague Lovers
Fair play, this is a pretty damn good album, eh? Picked it up today, so I'm not too so far away from the modern day as to be a stray. Purchased Postcards from a Young Man; why not, when I can? Not as good as Journal for Plague Lovers, but beggars aren't choosers. I have been meaning to see my cousin, since he has my CD's, all dozen.
Remember you, stretched out in the sun,
All alone forever, conclusions forgone,
Will you find some kind of nothingness?
Still and lonely, like an old-school photograph...
"Some Kind of Nothingness", Postcards from a Young Man
Around an Axle
I'm not a person inclined to philosophy, but I have been thinking.
People cling to life so desperately. Trying to escape the crushing wheel of fate, as it cuts the rightful path through history. "I don't want to die". It's almost pathetic. I don't believe in predestination; I don't believe in the Grim Reaper.
All of life is a wonderful, blessed shared dream. You enter it, you exist in it; you don't even know it. But the wheel of the world's fate does not stop - it moves forward. But the wheel of your fate? It turns and turns, and the dream continues. Until it stops - when it stops, the dream ends. And when the dream ends?
You die.
People cling to life so desperately. Trying to escape the crushing wheel of fate, as it cuts the rightful path through history. "I don't want to die". It's almost pathetic. I don't believe in predestination; I don't believe in the Grim Reaper.
All of life is a wonderful, blessed shared dream. You enter it, you exist in it; you don't even know it. But the wheel of the world's fate does not stop - it moves forward. But the wheel of your fate? It turns and turns, and the dream continues. Until it stops - when it stops, the dream ends. And when the dream ends?
You die.
Thursday, 14 April 2011
I am...
A title that is almost ominous; but don't worry, stay with us!
Since I've made this blog and I'd rather not talk about fog, I may as well talk about myself - if you don't want to read, suit yourself! I'm twenty-one years old; I work in a hospital in Wales, which is pretty damn cold. I would have gone to university, but universities are hardly centres for economic diversity. Medicine has always fascinated me, although actually working in the medical industry...
I've never kept a blog or personal diary - I'd sooner go to a priory. That should say plenty, and it costed not a penny.
In school, I was always one of those students for whom a B was a disappointment. Yeah, one of those; I do admit that I managed to fail two GCSEs (Music and Welsh, to be accurate), largely because in them, my heart wasn't content. And I wasn't very good at either.
In other academic areas, though, I had a lot of interests, which helped; I wasn't one of the class clowns. In fact, I despised them - "fail your education, if you will, but don't drag me down with you, cretins" and things like that. It was wrong of me to think of myself as superior to them (after all, it was incredibly likely that I was not), but I did. "All humans are not created equal" indeed. It's, obviously, not a particularly good mindset for someone who works in a hospital. But, simply put, it's a job. I get money for doing it.
That's all.
Since I've made this blog and I'd rather not talk about fog, I may as well talk about myself - if you don't want to read, suit yourself! I'm twenty-one years old; I work in a hospital in Wales, which is pretty damn cold. I would have gone to university, but universities are hardly centres for economic diversity. Medicine has always fascinated me, although actually working in the medical industry...
I've never kept a blog or personal diary - I'd sooner go to a priory. That should say plenty, and it costed not a penny.
In school, I was always one of those students for whom a B was a disappointment. Yeah, one of those; I do admit that I managed to fail two GCSEs (Music and Welsh, to be accurate), largely because in them, my heart wasn't content. And I wasn't very good at either.
In other academic areas, though, I had a lot of interests, which helped; I wasn't one of the class clowns. In fact, I despised them - "fail your education, if you will, but don't drag me down with you, cretins" and things like that. It was wrong of me to think of myself as superior to them (after all, it was incredibly likely that I was not), but I did. "All humans are not created equal" indeed. It's, obviously, not a particularly good mindset for someone who works in a hospital. But, simply put, it's a job. I get money for doing it.
That's all.
Last Shift for the Week
New blog post later tonight, then.
I'd forgotten that I'd made this thing. Almost regretting it, but it's a bit soon for that.
I'd forgotten that I'd made this thing. Almost regretting it, but it's a bit soon for that.
Wednesday, 13 April 2011
I'll Sleep When I'm Dead
The time is 2:30AM. I have to be awake and at work by seven o'clock.
Dammit.
While it may very well be my extreme tiredness talking, I am incredibly cynical about this. Hundreds of blogs must be made by people every day; how many of them last a week? How many are read normally? Not many, I am sure - and why should I be any different? I'm an untalented idiot.
... you know, it is only when I wrote that down that I realised how childish it made me seem. How foolish of me.
Perhaps a "proper" introduction is in order. My name, as you can see, is Concordia. You may think that this is hardly a real name: and indeed, it is not. It's a pseudonym; I have no intention of revealing my name to you all. Google is not hard to operate; if one of my co-workers found this, I would probably end up out of a job.
Speaking of my work, that is largely the problem. To put it lightly, I do not work in a field that is conducive to good health: indeed, it is in the health profession, which could be considered an irony. It is... stressful. I work shifts that are too long for comfort for too long a period of time.
... that seems so damn childish of me. Let us ignore this; I must apologise for the whining inherent in this post. I'm very tired. I wasn't even going to do this, but everything seems better when you haven't slept for this long. Whatever.
I am planning to use this blog as something of a stress reliever. While nobody will read it, perhaps somebody will, y'know? Maybe they'll sympathise, maybe they'll offer some emotional support.
This is reality, though. The advice I get will be useless, and certainly without merit.
And there goes the cynicism again. Sod this, I'm going to bed.
Dammit.
While it may very well be my extreme tiredness talking, I am incredibly cynical about this. Hundreds of blogs must be made by people every day; how many of them last a week? How many are read normally? Not many, I am sure - and why should I be any different? I'm an untalented idiot.
... you know, it is only when I wrote that down that I realised how childish it made me seem. How foolish of me.
Perhaps a "proper" introduction is in order. My name, as you can see, is Concordia. You may think that this is hardly a real name: and indeed, it is not. It's a pseudonym; I have no intention of revealing my name to you all. Google is not hard to operate; if one of my co-workers found this, I would probably end up out of a job.
Speaking of my work, that is largely the problem. To put it lightly, I do not work in a field that is conducive to good health: indeed, it is in the health profession, which could be considered an irony. It is... stressful. I work shifts that are too long for comfort for too long a period of time.
... that seems so damn childish of me. Let us ignore this; I must apologise for the whining inherent in this post. I'm very tired. I wasn't even going to do this, but everything seems better when you haven't slept for this long. Whatever.
I am planning to use this blog as something of a stress reliever. While nobody will read it, perhaps somebody will, y'know? Maybe they'll sympathise, maybe they'll offer some emotional support.
This is reality, though. The advice I get will be useless, and certainly without merit.
And there goes the cynicism again. Sod this, I'm going to bed.
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