Twat: colloquial for idiot, and the female reproductive organ.
Does that mean I’m likening my ex-boyfriend to a place of sensual pleasures, or calling him an idiot? Yes and no. Erm, what I mean is both.
Having today stumbled upon a blog called My boyfriend is a twat, I decided to get off my arse and write an entry in this blog. It also marks another amazing feat: I’m feeling better, in the mental way. I got put on another medication in addition to anti-depressants (mood stabiliser) and it’s doing a world of good. Rightly deserved, I think, given the antics towards the end of last year, pout.
Despite the title of this entry, it is in fact a very light-hearted snark (complete bastards may stop reading…here).
Franz Kafka once wrote a passionate letter to his then new wife about how absence inspires us to create, or to write, write letters, especially. At least, this is what I heard in a brilliant guest lecture in a European history subject I took as part of my French major. Kafka was deeply in love with his wife and not at all happy about being physically separated from her, but still, it only made him think of her more fondly. What does this have to do with ex-boyfriends and twats, you’re probably asking, I promise it’s all connected, allow me my indulgence.
At my parents’ place, in another room of the house I can hear the television is on. I hear these beeps and mistakenly think that my mobile phone is producing some of these beeps to alert me that someone loves me and has sent me a text message. Alas, I am wrong. The thought makes me feel like a loner: I seem not only to be getting a distinct lack of e-mails, but phonecalls - landline and mobile - too.
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In all seriousness, I should point out that Magic the Gathering is quite a nice recreational thing to indulge in because it contains no triggers. For survivors of abuse or those with post traumatic stress disorder, the notion of something being triggerless is indeed very appreciated. Triggers are generally less of a problem with other, lesser psychiatric disorders, but every now and then, they flare up and everything is potentially a trigger, till things settle down.
Golly, you have to REALLY want to comment here…anyway I’ve made it. Imagine it cuts down on Spam!
I haven’t read all of your post as I’m in a bit of a hurry but I would like to thank you for your comment down at mine, which was excellent.
Glad you’ve found Zoe, she’s my mate.
Hi Caroline!
My goodness, I am SO sorry about not seeing your comments, it’s been a while since I logged in so I didn’t realise there were any to approve. Usually I get e-mail notification but for some reason it didn’t work…I hope you don’t mind, I deleted the other 2 comments you made (the ones asking where your comments were, hope you don’t mind).
So Zoe (author of the infamously referred to blog) is your mate? I think I stumbled upon it as it was mentioned as being noteworthy re. the blog awards. So she’s famous
Thanks for reading, I so promise your comments will show sooner! Will have to get my beloved techhie to look into that. Hmmm.
Hey! I’m famous too! I’m a bloggie finalist this year.
*sounds of hyserical laughter*
Glad this is working now, s’fine about the other two rambles….
warmest congrats on being a finalist! You are famous! Good blogging company I keep, heh heh.
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