The Diabetes Club

Haha, I nearly started this off by saying "So it's been just over three weeks since I was diagnosed with diabetes" but that would have been boring as hell so I didn't.

If I had done though, it'd be true.

It happened at the worst time too. Except that's not true. It could have happened when I'd moved away to live in uni halls where I'd be all on my own, but that's in the future and we're in the present, when the diagnosis happened, and I've had my brilliant mother come over and help me with things, so that's been good.

It did happen at a really bad time though. Having just started a year long Art n' Design Foundation course, with an intensive initial six week Exploratory Stage with weekly rotation of different subjects and media, where a piece of work had to be finished within each sodding week goddamnit a week, and you were supposed to build up a portfolio as you went, getting diagnosed with diabetes half way through was (one dramatic ellipsis leading to an understatement belying ones actual feelings coming right up)... unhelpful.

I missed two weeks wherein I achieved no work, which isn't surprising, not knowing what to do n' all. And there was the issue of having to prong myself. With Sharp Things.

It isn't actually too bad. Sharp Thing #1 is the lancet in my bloodsugar testing kit. The worst thing about using that was accidentally slicing my thumb trying to pull the lil' plastic cap off from the pronger. I'm still wearing a plaster on that thumb. It's healing, slowly, and looking rather sorry for itself.

Sharp Thing #2 is actually two things, a set of things. Two pens, identical, one silver one blue, both with two different types of insulin which I have to take. The needles on each of them are four millimetres long, they barely ever even sting. It's just a weird little sensation where the skin of my stomach or thigh goes "Oh hey, there's a lil' needle in you." and the message travels to the brain who just goes "Oh yeah, how cute." and doesn't kick up a fuss about pain or anything. The worst part of it is accidentally stabbing my thumb trying to get the protective nib of the needle off.

The real stress of it at first was the thought that I'd never get to have desserts or sweet and sugary things ever again. Turns out I can though, so I reckon I'll be able to cope after all. In fact, I've actually got an incentive to eat chocolate.

See, this is what I've learnt. I used to produce a relatively normal amount of bloodsugar. I was relatively healthy. My body produced probably near enough the right amount of insulin to maintain the bloodsugar levels, cos' that's just how insulin rolls, maintainin' the bloodsugar, keepin' the balance, like a hard ass mofo. But then it just upped and left, letting my bloodsugar skyrocket, which is a Bad Thing. Symptoms of such Bad Thing include permanent, unquenchable, drinking-sand-cos'-it's-a-mirage thirst; extreme tiredness at too-early-for-bed time; peeing gallons; and for some reason having unpleasant fungal infections. Having suffered all of these, I took a trip to the doctors, had the pleasure of receiving a blood test, went over to my clinic which deals with my cystic fibrosis, had my bloodsugar tested on the spot by a diabetics nurse (who is now my nurse, I'm just one of 158 other patients she's looking after) and yeah, I was diagnosed pretty quickly when she read the results. Normal bloodsugar levels are between 6 and 7. My result then was 21.1.

So. Poo. Anyway. With me lacking the insulin I need to bring those levels down, I need to inject it externally. This happens, and I can eat food and not worry about my blood sugar levels bursting through the top of my head, which is called hyperglycemic, AKA hyper, AKA too much sugar in your blood system.

Foods which have high carbohydrate counts per gram will send my bloodsuger high, unless it's slow acting carbs, like in chocolate, in which case I don't need to worry about them. So, to the point, I can eat chocolate. Without injecting. Good.

However, I am now restricted strictly to sugar-free drinks. Pepsi do alright, actually. They know their sugar free drinks. Unlike Coke Zero. What it lacks in sugar it also lacks in taste. Buy Pepsi Max (I'm not being endorsed by Pepsi, I don't even know what Pepsi are, is it a taxi service?).

(Can you put punctuation inside a parenthesis and then have it on the outside again so you can complete your sentence, or is that wrong?)?

The next stress came not with having to jab myself, like I said it's not too bad and I'm pretty okay with it now, but the thought of having to keep doing it, for the rest of my life. As someone with cystic fibrosis, I know what it's like to do permanent treatment. But not involving needles. I've never had to do that. That's a daunting thing.

Until it becomes second nature because it's just a thing you have to do to keep healthy and it's better than staying in hospital or not being healthy. It was a daunting thing, and I'm really glad my mum had been through it all already so she could tell me all this. Well I'm not glad she got diabetes and had to go through all this. But it was really great that she was there.

So I took a couple of weeks off from the Foundation course, with me chillin' at home, eating chocolate, helping paint the house (jesus christ it was literally the worst time to paint the house dad, never mind me suddenly being all diabetic, I know it was half term holiday for you but you didn't expect to get it all done in a week did you?! Thanks for the supply of chocolate, btw), injecting insulin and checking my bloodsugar to see if it's lower than 10 yet (I'm sure you'll be glad to know that yes, now, it is).

Stress #3 came with going back to college, trying to start doing work and catching up and finishing off my sketchbook and portfolio for a hand-in deadline two weeks away holy shit cunt flaps whatthehelldoido?? Pro tip: Don't spend an entire week stressing over your work and then not getting it done. Also don't stress over print quality and then accidentally break the sodding printer, that's an absolute no-no. Also don't plan a morning out to buy things you need so you can spend the afternoon getting loadsa work done only to wake up already gone mid-day because your dad switched your alarm clock off when it was time to actually get you up (srsly dad, wth). Twice (double wth).

So. That hasn't been very positive. The deadline, in fact, was yesterday just gone, at the time of writing. I very nearly almost managed to finish, but then I ran out of A2 paper for my portfolio. And the whole two weeks off thing. But, and this is a but and a half, apparently I've done more work than some people who haven't been diagnosed with diabetes or anything half way through the course, so I don't know what their deal is. Then again, self deprecating is the Thing to Be these days, innit? If you're not feeling sorry for yourself, then you're just not cool enough. You have to meet a certain criteria if you want to be an outcast like the cool kids.

Speaking of self deprecation: sorry if this has been a rambling, unreadable mass of stuff from the pit of the arm of a really smelly and unpleasant person who hasn't showered in, like, ages, but that's what it's been and I feel like going to bed soon so that's how it'll stay.

Haha, I nearly ended this blog by writing "I have diabetes now. Diabetes is cool." It isn't. It's a bit of a pain in the arse. Forever.

...And that's how I joined the Diabetes Club! So remember kids, don't do diabetes! Goodbye!

Passport

I found my passport today. It's valid until November. I'm a happy bunny.

That's it.

That's the whole blog post.

The Amazing Technicolour Portfolio

I made this sodding portfolio, a whole evenings work that went with a lack of sleep and a whole bunch of stress, especially for my sodding interview at the Birmingham Institute of Art and Design in Bournville last Thursday, and they didn't even bally-well look at it.

I even put all the images on a DVD and everything.

I dunno, can't get the staff these days.

http://joshstechnicolourportfolio.blogspot.co.uk/

2011

As a sequel to 2010, 2011 delivered mostly as expected.

With the same lead playing the young protagonist as he works from his first year into his second year of college, not much action is seen by way of big changes in this young man's life.

He gains some friends, particularly in the second half as the new students arrive. However, he is portrayed as a very gentle, passive character, who gently lets people drift away from him, rather than a more dramatic stand-off leading to a brief make-up before falling out for good. It's like this throughout the whole year, and makes for viewing better suited to a sleeping audience who don't want to be disturbed rather than an audience looking for excitement. Or anything at all.

There are a few major twists and surprises. Not to spoil the plot, but several characters played up as major villains in 2010 are suddenly killed off in this installment, much to the credit of President Obama making several return appearances, still played warmly by a wonderful Morgan Freeman. However, these big political characters are often kept in the background, having little impact on the protagonist. It's a wonder why the writers decided to kill them off so early in the franchise.

Overall, 2011 is a well acted, solid year, although the cracks do begin to show, for what it lacks in plot it fails to make up for in action. But promise for the much anticipated and long since announced remake of Roland Emmerich's 2012 is very high indeed, the rumours that the apocalyptic elements have been removed entirely (and leaving open grounds for a possible 2013?) only adding to the intrigue.

3/5 stars

December

Bugger me, and that's it is it?

Hang on, no, let's do this properly.



Ahh, the end of the year. These last few months spent winding down from the stress and excitement of ending what we laughingly call a summer holiday and rushing back to work and school and college like headless chickens on tranquilizers (the 70s has been coming back into fashion, right?). And then the past month is spent winding up for Christmas, then the spring broke.

A strange thing: it normally isn't 10 degrees. That's double digits in December. Are you drunk, December? Thanks to major slacking from you and January we didn't get any snow this year. Not a flake.

This month saw me visiting Birmingham's the German Market for the first time. It's exactly what it says on the cardboard sign indicating what it is, which is undoubtedly a good thing otherwise the sign wouldn't be doing it's job. It invades the city centre every year selling souvenirs, beer, food, pretzels, stollen, beer, stollen and beer for no less than £3 per thing. It also gets bigger every year. Birmingham is regularly vaccinated against it but it keeps coming back.

I didn't buy anything. Not out of sheer defiance of its existence to make a statement of shunning the masses to somehow look cool, but because I wanted to save money to buy my family Christmas presents this year. I didn't even go on the helter skelter. I've never been on a helter skelter.

Moneysaving didn't stop me from spending six quid to see the famous Scarlet Creek supporting a Strangle Kojak gig. Followed by a two hour DJ set of dubstep. I was late home.

I think I actually lost several important possessions inside one of the drops.

A bit later on, The Dying Light happened.

That play wot I made with my drama group and stuff. We performed it in the colleges' performance theatre. It went pretty well, apart from when I fluffed my lines and stabbed myself. Except that was part of the play in one of the bits I wrote.

What I'm really proud of is how the script called for "copious amounts of blood", but due to other college related commitments, I didn't have chance to work out a method of making copious amounts of blood. Until the very night before performance when I noticed Dad kept a box of Capri Sun's in the garage. I grabbed one, drank it, grabbed a plastic syringe, painstakingly filled the packet with water, put the straw back in and gave it a good whack, watching to my delight as water spurted out violently.

A plan happened, and all it needed was some of Riess' fake blood -- watered down, so that it would behave like water, like how I tested it -- and some sellotape. Which didn't work, so my tutor provided some gaffa tape and black cloth instead, but I still put a strip of sellotape over the straw hole, so no blood would come out before it needed to.

You had... you had worked out the blood-filled Capri Sun packet was strapped to me under my costume at this point, right? Right.

Naturally, I forgot to take the strip off right before the appropriate scene, but I undid it a bit while the lights were down and most of it came out in the end. It was a one-shot thing at this point, so I'm glad it did. I bent the (plastic) knife, which broke later on (but it was one of the actors who fucked up scene 7 when it was needed on stage, by helpfully carrying its' remains offstage. Brilliant.) And the costume? A pristine white formal shirt. Which I'll never wear again. But the whole experience was the perfect excuse to buy a bowler hat. That's in fact the only reason I bothered with any of this. And now I own a bowler hat.

In fact, fuck Christmas, a bowler hat'll do me. But my parents -- sorry -- Santa got me a HTC anyway, which is exactly what I asked for, so thanks Santa.

I'm gonna go off on a tangent here: Christmas is meant to me a time of sharing, of giving, of family and charity and peace and wine, etc. Giving is said to be more important than receiving. So why, for the love of Blitzen on a spit, why do we hide all the hard work of parents, the weeks of preparation and stress and the hundreds of money spent, behind the facade of a mythical fat bloke in red who'll simply give you presents for nothing? What the hell is that about? And Santa's even sponsored by Coca-Cola!

Anyway.

I ended up buying the annual round of CDs for my family. Coldplay for mum, Machine Head and Turisas for the Brothers. A blu-ray of Banksy's Exit Through the Gift Shop for dad. Brilliantly, in an act of sheer inadvertent perfection, dad also brought me Banksy's Wall and Piece book. It's fucking brilliant.

The Grandparents came round for Christmas, and it was lovely. Despite them having separated many decades earlier, they seemed to get on like old friends. We woke up in time for the afternoon. We opened presents. We had a three hour lunch. We played musical crackers (the Christmas crackers were crazy this year). We watched Doctor Who. We played with our toys. We ate chocolate. We went to bed. Yes, the same one.

No, not the same one. Jesus.

And Boxing Day wasn't bad -- oh wait. It was two days after Christmas instead of the orthodox one day, because of Bank Holiday Monday or some shit. So I spent the Bank Holiday not-Boxing Day playing with my HTC, and we still did our traditional family thing of visiting our dad's side of the family at one of my uncle's houses. We arrived late. We ate lunch. We gave gifts chocolate (for the kids -- I still count as a kid. Which is fine, my Heroes'll do just fine), alcoholic stuff in bottles (for the men), and plants (for the women). We played Pictionary. We lost. We ate dinner. The Brothers played with our cousins recording equipment. We said goodbye. We went home.

And now the new year looms. I've got the end of college to look forward to, with a generous helping of exams, and then a foundation course studying fine art at the Birmingham Institute of Art and Design, and then, if ludicrous Hollywood films and idiots who don't understand Mayan history are to be believed, The End of the World. I think I've lived through at least six prophesied apocalypses now, this'll be seven. Roll on 2012.

-

For those who've read since my January blog this year, well bloody done. Have a biscuit.

Also, I did get round to using Photoshop that my dad brought me last Christmas. And I definitely got drunk this year. Not that it's cool, or impressive, or something to aspire to, kids. Sam, I'm looking at you.

Hella fun, though.

November

Ah! November! Where have you been? We've been worried sick!

Not to worry! Not to worry! Come in, you must be freezing! Lets get your coat off.

I know, I know! It'll be much worse when it snows!

Oh, of course! That's December's thing, isn't it?

Isn't it? Well it was last year! Anyway, December's actually fun... No offence!

Good! Good! Can I get you a cup of something?

Oh you are funny! "I've never tried this 'something' before, is it nice?" Oh you're quite the comedian aren't you! Well I've got coffee or tea, I'm making tea.

Sugar?

How are you anyway? How's the wife?

Oh that is a shame! I'm glad you're holding out though.

Me? Well not much. The usual, you know.

Oh, you know. This and that.

Well, I completed the soundtrack on my play - well not strictly my play, you understand, we're in a group you see - and that took me a week, it's really good, it's got Massive Attack and weird samples and everything, you'd really like it.

Mhmm. And speaking of my play, we've finally thought of a title! I didn't come up with it, I'm not sure who did actually... Rhiannon told us on Facebook, Raj talked about it... Anyway, it's a really good title. It comes from the Dylan Thomas poster that inspired the play. It's called - shall I put this here? Hang on. There, that's it, now you've got a coaster - it's called The Dying Light.

Mmm, I know! We've blocked most of it as well! We've worked out the lighting, the stage, and my costume came the other day as well! It's freaky!

A bowler hat and a white mask.

No not at the same time! It would be great if I did though, wouldn't it?

Well perhaps not, no. It's a bugger to put on though.

The mask, not the hat! Especially since I've got to do it in ten seconds between scenes but there's also a black cape to go with it.

Yes, yes, the mask not the... Speaking of buggery I got a bugger load of art work done over the past couple of weeks or so. I was literally awake all through the weekend doing it.

Well no, not Friday evening.

I woke up at about two on Saturday, but I didn't sleep again until three o'clock on Monday, so bugger off. And I finished the written coursework that goes with it. Five thousand words it is, no exaggeration!

No, really!

I've been doing lots of work! Why do you think I haven't been going out this past month?

Oh well that's just hurtful.

Well I did go out once actually!

I'm doing this film thing for a friend of mine. So there!

I play a dead character.

I'm strangled, apparently.

Yes, the make up is very convincing. If I wanted to look like Gary Numan.

He doesn't wear make up?

I'm not sure either.

What are my plans for December? Well, more of the same I imagine. Except there might be snow and we'll be having Christmas and there'll be no work to do.

Yes alright you've made your point. Shopping, decorating, wrapping, etc,etc. But at least we actually make something out the numbing cold and constant dampness.

Rich coming from you!

Oh, well, I suppose you're right. It must be tough being November. Chin up, eh? Look, I'm really not the person to see about these sorts of things, I'd really rather a nice chat.

Well if you feel that's what you need. I suppose I've got things I need to be getting on with too. Do pop around next year won't you?

Good. Nice to see you then, goodbye!

October

This is how October started with a bang. A good hard one.

It was a Saturday, and it was shite. I was in towns, I was late. I was panicking slightly about being late. It was kinda cold, unpleasantly so. I had just brought a mobile top up voucher from Tesco (it took a lot of guts to admit that, guys), and, naturally, it decided it didn't want to work for me. So I didn't have a phone with which to text one of my friends to see if they were meeting anywhere for this gig, this thing I was late for, so I didn't have to go on my own.

Alas, I went on my own.

This fuck up on Tesco's part made me later, and more anxious. And it started to rain (it might not have started to rain, then again I might be hyperbolising some of this).

Little did I know it, but this gig would change my life.

As a result of that gig I went back to Cadbury's inspired. I immediately wrote the entire script, soundtrack and technical notes for my drama groups production (if by 'I' I mean me and Raj with input from the whole group, and by 'soundtrack' I mean the one we have yet to decide on). I know for a fact, even as we have yet to fully block or rehearse our scenes (or even title it), that it will be more groundbreaking than Waiting for Godot, more memorable than Hamlet.

I also researched, planned, trialed and created a mixed-media-video-sound-botanical high-concept installation masterpiece for my Art class, accompanied by an eight thousand word illustrated essay exploring my chosen subject matter through the work of other artists (none of this has happened yet, except the researching bit).

As for my English class, I've written a four thousand and fifty three page novel, of which my English tutor Mr Green has said is "more adventurous than than Homer's Iliad or Odyssey" and "more complex and linguistically challenging than Finnegan's Wake" (both of those quotes may have been paraphrased, and said paraphrases paraphrased, repeatedly, to the point of each letter being replaced or reordered) (and by 'written a novel' I mean looked at Waiting for Godot).

Perhaps most satisfying; my social status has sky rocketed and my private life hella more interesting. Having nearly impregnated twenty of the girls at my college, I eventually settled down with one, and we're now happily married with two kids. We hit it off proper at a party we went to for a friends eighteenth. At Go Kidz Go (The bit about the party's true, it was the best thing).

I couldn't be happier right now (I'm sure I could be if I tried), and it's all thanks to that gig I went to.

I got there, a pub called The Flapper, right next to one of Birmingham's canals, just in time, picking my way through the crowd of literally some people, to see the band finish one of their songs that I can't remember and fuck up a cover of 'Reptilia'. They actually stopped half way through so they could sheepishly ask the crowd if they could start again. The set picked up though, they delivered an awesome song called 'Vultures' and a pretty cool alt-rocky version of 'Stand By Me'. More people came. The room got sweaty. They left with a whole five pounds more than the headline act. I left enlightened.

So it was pretty all right, all in all. They've got another gig at Birmingham's O2 Academy tomorrow, which I'll be going to. Buzzin'.

The band, by the way, are made up of friends from my college. They're called Scarlet Creek. They're pretty good, lots of potential, I reckon.

They've just released their latest album 'I'm With You' to critical acclaim, and have pledged to perform their now infamous twenty-four hour song, in its entirety, live at their gig tomorrow. They've just announced a world tour throughout next year, and collaborating and playing with the likes of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Lightning Bolt, Neon Indian, Kesha and McFly, it's gonna be a busy as fuck year.

You should check them out here.


Good night.


-


"Vultures circling my head
Vultures circling the dead
something something
Rob's dad's a paedo" - 'Vultures', Scarlet Creek, Nevermind(1991)