The thing about me is#1....(And, how I broke the Bus System)

What's all this?!

This, my dear reader(s), is what I'm calling the "Thing about me is" segment of my blog. It is dedicated to telling you more about me so that my rants and ramblings are far more fascinating with astound, amazing...CONTEXT! Man, how I love context. You can take context out of something and make it all dirty. For instance: "Gee that's big!" can be taken as some great, classic, crude double entendre. Man, what is it with me listening adjectives tonight? S'very strange. I'm running low on sleep due to my lovely book being lost on my pen drive. While my greatest friends, who I cannot begin to say how great they are here for it will take up the entire blog never mind this post, spent time scouring everywhere for it but the thing never turned up. 14K. Gone. I was distraught.

However, last weekend, I slaved my ass off living on a diet of Tea, Mochas, Cider, Chocolate and my lovely Mother having made some meals of some sort between all there to try to return to my former glory: a wannabe writer with a 14,000 word story. I didn't quite get there but, 10.8K isn't that far from it, right? That was due to staying up until the early hours of Sunday morning and then continuing the second my body managed itself from bed. Which was surprisingly easy, as this ranter seems to struggle to like his sleep at the moment and spending a lot of his time up instead of down. (Yes, I think that's a good way to put it). But anyway: what the hell does this have to do with 'contextualising' myself/blog?

Well, I'm beginning to talk about something that defines me: extremity. That sounds like an odd, disturbing thing to say. You could probably expect like, several Extremist Anarchist views or something now but no, I think it's best to say that I'm not like that but, emotionally, I seem to not have 'normal feelings'. I either am really happy or really down, really calm or really tense. And you could blame over-active hormones pumping through my bones, not to mention testosterone and pressure of exams and what not but other people seem to have more of a control of these "whimsy mood swings" of theirs. I, on the other hand, shoot from one end to the other. And that can be a bad thing.

Why isn't it a bad thing all the time? Surely being a figurative roller coaster of emotional is UNBEARABLE. 

(I want everyone to take note that I avoided saying "emotional roller coaster" in this latest heading. Because man, I hate that term).

No. Well, yes. As you can imagine, the highs are good. The lows...not so much. My former ways of dealing with them was not pretty. S'not something for the blog, even with this new sparkly comic-styled section. [Author's note: the only thing that makes this comic-styled is having "#1" like an issue. This is probably very uncomicbook like, unfortunately]. But it's not that bad. See, I use to think it was. Being hurtled from happiness to sadness, vice-versa, it can be daunting to get out of bed sometimes. But my emotional extremity can be used in constructive ways: I seem to write an awful lot of poetry because of it and generally have a good creative flow. A good way to vent.

But, generally, it comes with its perks. My eccentricity and interest can be fiery and passionate, I can sometimes be unstoppable. However, if blown back by the blues (there's so many Bs in that it's like: woah--) then I am weak and rather fickle with little motivation for anything. My brain, forever an active place, will swing from one to the other if I allow it. When you live like this for most of your life, for though I believe it's a definite hormone-based thing I have had it before all those things started stirring, you kind of learn slowly how to deal with it. For me it took some help of a lot of forgiving friends and family members and not to mention a hand-dose of therapy.

While I haven't rid of Emotional extremity and that does mean really grim times it is not unbearable, for the good has begun to definite be more frequent/outweigh the bad. On top of that, the bad isn't that unbearable now because I have different ways of approaching it. Which is why I write blog posts and what not.

But, what does you breaking a Bus system have to do with any of this??

This is partially a "The thing about me is..." post and a rant.

It's an example, I guess, of how my fragile emotional state gets through the day. I had devised a plan to go shopping into the local town before my choir practice, which also takes place in the local town. The idea was simple: catch the school bus from my school (several different buses head from my school and my school is in the awkward-third-cousin-village of the entire county) so I would just get on that, go to town then to Choir. IF I couldn't get on that bus for whatever reason (missing it, not enough space, zombies, etc.) then i would just get the Choir bus that leaves at 4:10. To explain in brief point:

-I would get a school bus to the local town at around 3:50, school finishing at 3:30
-If refused entrance then I'd get the normal Choir bus from my school at 4:10, which would mean not time to get my shopping errand done.

In the past, I've just gotten the Sixth Former bus. There are three buses that go to this town as a large portion of the school attend from this town and they can't all fit on one. I don't like getting the one for the younger years as I'm well known by everyone and would be pestered by little'uns. The other one, for Years 10-11 (where I'd be regularly) was full of my year/people I was avoiding. So, I thought: I know, I'll get the bus my Ex is on. I use to do it all the time when we were together and we're getting along so she tell me where to get off, etc.

But, the school started to freak when my friend 'Sion' came out of my regular bus dopely going: "Doi, why aren't you on the bus??" Thus, the school went into full-panic. Now, I go to a Welsh school and the majority of the time, it's easy to just speak Welsh. But when surrounded by panic, they could be Spanish for all I care. I tried explaining my situation but, some Teacher I don't particularly like was the first to begin and she had a tendency of treating me like an idiot. And this links into the Emotional Extremity part of this, for all you young whipper-snappers who think you're all clever because I just seem to be going on a tangent.

Sometimes, I'm difficult to approach. Ask my family, friends. Anyone. People aren't always sure how I'm going to react because on the off-chance I'm going to react like a bloody monster from the deep blue sea. The truth is: I'm going to probably debate your point with you but, I'm going to be fine most of the time unless I specify. I mean, maybe that's an interior look and on the exterior, it doesn't look like that whatsoever. Who knows, I'm just making observations/statements that make me look like a saint. It's my Blog, I can do whatever I like, damn it!

Anyway, Teachers know this about me. That emotional extremity is why I get away with a lot and why I get pushed harder sometimes. So, in the defence of this Teacher who I do not like that much, she was probably expecting something like this:

(Though, minus the hair. It's not that long any more and I'm far from being Aaran-blonde).

Thus, I stopped any bus from moving before putting my hands up in the air and leaving in a storm and resulted in not getting errands done, around three teachers having a go at me but a cracking story and realisation that one person can simply destroy the apparent "order" set up by the school. And that makes me come up with several evil plans for future use...

So, people the thing about me is: I'm an emotional basket case and simple things such as trying to run an errand can be a bit stressful for me and everyone around me.

But it makes me passionate, aspiring and sometimes jolly enough to be able to make me so confident in myself that hopefully, I can even brighten other people's day. And in times like that, it makes the gloom and doom seem rather small.

(Current word count is iffy, everyone, as I'm floating with two drafts. But that might be explained later, see y'all next in "Why, as a Romantic, I hate Valentine's Day!")