... or to put it less horribly, I have been to some other places beyond the recent quest to Australia, New Zealand, and Various Places Invaded by the French. I think calling yourself "well travelled" is a colossal deference to pig-headedness and I'm also acutely aware that I've been to substantially fewer countries than a lot of trust-fund teens named "Allegra" or "Euripides": whose entire lives are a string of Instagram poses and post-champagne and cocaine blackouts. But whatever. Here's three places (in no particular order) that I've been to that might be worth your time—for very different reasons—if you're really stuck for ideas and can't go back to Thailand because of that one incident with a condom full of heroin. Turkey: Turunç
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The Calendar Gods have spoken and decreed that it is, once again, Mental Health Awareness Week. This isn't going to be a particularly consistent super-article so starting as I mean to go on (with a sidenote): I've always found it weird that sometimes an "awareness week" seems to be for negative conditions of which we need to be made aware, and sometimes it's used by organisations to bring attention to their cause for ostensibly positive reasons. It leads to the amusing situation that one week you need to be aware of the dangers of dementia and the next week being aware of the dangers of seafarers. Watch out for the Navy. You can't trust them. The Theme of 2018For better or worse I'm nearly at the end of my stint living in this 'ere Antipode, and I thought I'd collect some of the ways trying to blend in with these kiwi-types has wrecked me and my ability to live anywhere ever again. Which... I guess is a good thing? Note this isn't one of those "Things you'll learn living...". Your experiences may differ OK? What, were you expecting me to predict your own personal development in this country? Get a grip man. 1. My vocabulary is ruinedUntil October 2016 I had spent my life referring to these items as "flip flops".
Happy New Et Cetera. In case you mistakenly stumbled on this barely-understandable cavalcade of miserablist mediocrity while searching for a "Travelling Miser-List", I occasionally partake in making artistically vacuous comics to try and encapsulate various aspects of living both with depression and the application Pages®. I'm not sure how much there is to be gained from explaining these in any depth, since if I have to do this then obviously I've categorically failed in communicating the message in the comics themselves. However since they're largely monochrome doodles of stick figures I think this is probably a reasonable precaution. I shan't do all of them because honestly I should vacuum at some point. Did you know that according to The Internet®, all you need to cure your depression is a good walk and some fresh air/company/to man up/to consume copious amounts of narcotics (delete as appropriate)? Wow! I sure love easy answers, and since the internet is populated exclusively by well-meaning experts, I shall immediately burn all my medication and defer to their expertise. Truth be told, as with most conditions what works for one person may not work for another (as I'm sure you all know already): but something more often overlooked is that certain things that can help depression/anxiety one day might be the catalyst for a spontaneous descent into misery the next. So here, in no order at all, is my list of five things that might be good things but might be bad things for those with broken brain chemistry. Enjoy... OR DON'T... 1. FoodWell since the previous post was somewhat heavy and the last time I did this it went down pretty well, here's some largely inconsequential disjointed nonsense usually thought up while being bored in an airport or on an Airbus. Yay? Air NZ have cool outfits
Don't eye my three seats you greedy bastard: you be more careful booking next time. This is my bed, my domain. MINE. Mashing the touch screen is fun. I just love smashing my digits violently against an LCD because it only interprets my inputs as vague suggestions. My God Suicide Squad is a special kind of incompetent. Can't read any of the text. Audio is trash. Colour is rubbish. Costumes are bad. This film is bad. So bad. Do planes make films worse? I think they ran out of bread rolls and the fat Mexican next to me smells. The two are unrelated. This toilet has some great books. It's a shame they're all photos: There was a guy once, who lived in the Canadian wilderness, who made something of an enemy of a particularly grumpy bear. It used to follow him, usually from a distance, when he was out in the woods. Once or twice it even sat outside his house (one of those log cabin jobs). Allegedly it followed him for something like five years, until one day the guy was heading back to his truck after going fishing. He was pretty exhausted and especially upset; he'd lost sleep and the bear had been (to his mind) more aggressive and adventurous. And on this day, in his somewhat dazed state, he'd left his keys on the jetty.
The bear was behind him before he'd even finished searching his pockets. His truck was right in front of him and he knew it'd provide enough of a measure of protection to save his life, but half a ton of fur and teeth and muscle was sat between him and the keys. Now class, simmer down, it's time for something a little more serious.
Within reason. I offer the following as just a few things one might consider when travelling with depression (or, broadly, other mental illnesses). As usual, I'm not remotely an expert in this beyond my own experiences, but hopefully nothing in here is contentious enough that I'll be pelted with rotten fruit for being a charlatan. As anyone who stalks me on Facebook knows I've only recently had my flat connected to the internet and subsequently become a genuine member of society again instead of some kind of hermit-luddite hybrid that lives in a ditch and screams at cars.
So for my triumphant comeback post I thought I'd change things up, and grace you with some timely (and thoughtful) political commentary and an exhaustive description of my favourite brands of milk. ... Or I'll just churn out some disjointed paragraphs on things that don't warrant a whole post. Good StuffAnd so to New Zealand, and meeting up with my lady friend's sister after a short stay in Auckland. From there the Coromandel peninsula, and then to the famous Waitomo glowworm caves. Sun! Sights! Strange mutilation of vowels!
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Author28 year old computer scientist/physicist with major depressive disorder, a need to write, and a deep-rooted mistrust of beetroot. Categories
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