You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Profile for Trijian:
Profile Info:

none

Recent front page messages:


none

Best answers to questions:

» The nicest thing someone's ever done for me

Not really sure where I'm going with this, but oh well.
I apologise in advance for any potential long-windedness, I've been mulling this over a few hours.

I've been a B3ta lurker for about 4 years now, and *very* occasional poster. Every week I look forward to the QOTW Best page, to cheer up my Thursday. I love the feeling of community you guys have here, the closeness felt in the posts. Which is why the nicest thing people have done for me is share their stories, to make me laugh, wince and cry, sometimes all at the same time.

Here's my tale:
I'm 22, last year I moved to Canada on a general whimsical idea, I was fed up in England, going nowhere, had dropped out of Uni, was stuck working in a shitty call centre job where abuse was the main subject of discussion. I had dual nationality, as my mum was born here, so decided to take that up and make the shift. Going to cut out all the boring details, but I ended up living with my Uncle and Aunt, who had moved out a couple of years previously. I got yet another shitty call centre job, for a pizza company, again on their customer service (read: abuse line, for stuck up assholes calling because their precious Jeremiah and Tarquin didn't get enough pepperoni on their pizza, and were now demanding free pizzas for life. I digress.) The stress of the job, combined with the times of operation meant I became somewhat reclusive, sleeping through most of the day, and never going out.

In time, I get friendlier with a guy called Kris, who'd been in my training class for this job, and was really the only person I connected with there. We'd meet for lunch, often with one of us 'being on a long call' or just simply 'forgetting to go' to reschedule our lunches to be at the same time. I took the plunge, asked him to come to a baseball game with me, even though he'd just moved into a new place with a random roommate (more on her later), he said he'd love to, but just couldn't afford it. So I said I'd pay. I had a kidney infection at the time, and the drugs I was taking for it put me way under the weather, and could barely eat, but fucked if I was missing this. I think I spent about $300 on that night out, dinner and the game, and souveniers, but it was nice to get out of the house for something other than work for once.

A week later I moved into his apartment, against all advice from other people, it just kinda felt right. I moved in with the 2 of them, it was a nice enough place, plenty of space for 3 and all that, and we worked out a way of splitting rent 3 ways, instead of 2, on the agreement that I'd be helping over the summer, but planned to go University in the Fall. Uni didn't happen due to insufficient funds, and at the beginning of August, the job finally took it's toll. I'd been diagnosed with depression way back in 2004, but it's one of those things I've tried desperately to ignore, and any drugs that I've been given generally haven't worked. The 3 of us agreed that I could quit my job, to focus on getting better. By this point my doctor had referred me for counselling too, which is still yet to come through, 6 months down the line.

Fast forward to now, still not working, but trying to get a job, as I feel like such a burden on my bf, as he's been paying for both of us through these last couple of months. The roommate leaves us a big stinking note telling us how we're crap roommates, making her pay half the rent, etc etc. I won't bore you all with the details, but basically I'm sitting here with the prospect of her kicking us out, the only family who actually care about me are 3500 miles away, and just can't help, even though I know they'd want to. I think about how much I miss my mum, miss my friends, and all the little things too. And then I read through here, it's now 7am, and I've read every single post in this QOTW, and each of it's replies tonight, and it makes me realise that, no matter how much I feel like it sucks, and that maybe it would be better if I was gone, that there really are worse things that could happen. I read the stories of people losing their parents, and it touches a nerve, and makes me realise that I still have my mum to talk to, and that she is only a phone call away.

So I'd like to thank you b3ta, for making me realise that lifes problems may consume you, but there is light at the end of the tunnel. This is the best counselling I could have hoped for, you're all wonderful people, who've really helped me get some perspective on things, to try and work through these issues, rather than hoping they'll go away. So thanks for sharing your lives with me, I've now shared mine with you.

And as a side note, I have the most awesomest friend in the world, who is also b3tan, but more lurker like me. He'll know this is me if he reads this, but I'd just like to thank him for always being there as a friend, not in the traditional, shoulder to cry on sense, but when I'm feeling crap, staying up all night with me to gank Horde on WoW, and linking me all sorts of shit from StumbleUpon to make me giggle. This escapism, and his filthy sense of humour get me through. I'm going to end this waffling now.

Length? Enough to 'splode a puppy.
(Sun 5th Oct 2008, 12:07, More)

» Cheap Tat

Birthdays
Way back in the dark depths of the past, 2002 I think, I'd just started hanging round with new people. This was April, and one of this group, Will, was due a birthday. An 18th to be precise. Now my best friend, her boyfriend and I were making our way over to his, where there was to be a Party of Epic Proportions(TM). On the way there, we realised that we hadn't bought him a present, so we were making stops at every trashy junk shop Portsmouth has to offer, us being in the 16-18 age demographic at the time, and skint.

His present from us: A Jesus Action Figure. With moving arms!
(Sat 5th Jan 2008, 4:33, More)

» The Police

Actually officer...
Just to give this story a bit of context, it was a couple of weeks before one of my mate's 18th, and being skint we knew we couldn't get him a present. He told us that no present would be necessary, but we would have failed him as friends if he didn't wake up on the day of his 18th with a traffic cone in his bed.
We soon located a worthy cone, and to make it look more celebratory, a couple of days before the event, we tied balloons to it.

Fast forward, and its the day before his birthday, as his actual 18th was to be spent in the pub, but he wanted to include the underage folk in the festivities. We arrange to gather at a beach shelter-type thing. I bring the birthday cone, but for fear of all things illegal, decide the best course of action would be to bring it in a bag, a bloody big camping rucksack to be precise.

Upon arrival I present him with his masterful present, but he leaves it in the bag for safekeeping, and also I give him another balloon with "I'm 18, get me booze" written on it, in biro, which he ties around his neck (not in a deadly way, he just needed somewhere to keep ot out of the way for his drinking). My own, limited, stash of pre-bought booze is placed somewhere in a random backpack. At this moment the police decide to appear from nowhere, and ask us all to empty our bags. The older ones of the group claim the alcohol is theirs, so as to avoid trouble. Then they see the big camping bag.

Thinking they are obviously going to get somewhere with this they pompously ask my friend what is in the bag. Or more to the point they assume the bag is brimming with alcohol. My friend, not wanting his birthday ruined simply replies:

"Actually officer its a traffic cone with balloons tied to it, and the some of the alcohol is mine, see it's my 18th birthday!"
He shows them the balloon, and according to Hampshire constabulary this is sufficient identification of age, so they plod on their merry way.
(Sat 24th Sep 2005, 20:17, More)

» Have you ever seen a dead body?

Grandfather/Uncle
My grandfather died in July 05, when I was 19, and this is the first close member of my family to die, and as such was the first funeral I attended. He'd been sick for ages, chronic diabetes, then pancreatic cancer, then a stroke. In the few days up to his death, he'd been begging my nan to let him home, but we'd all been told to prepare for his death. He died about 5am, my mum got the call about 6, from my nan. I'd not long been in from work, so I was awake still. By 7, we were in Poole (living in Portsmouth at the time).

He looked like he was sleeping, those of us present, my nan, mum, aunt, uncle and me, we all expecting him to let out one of his little snores, grunt and roll over. The thing most troubling was in the week leading up to his death, he'd developed a problem with his foot, some kind of circulatory issue, and by the time we'd got there, it had turned bright fucking purple.

My mum and aunt were cut, my uncle was taking it in his stride, and my nan is a sensationally strong woman, and was helping my comfort the others. I remember not crying too, even at his funeral I didn't cry. I was upset, but I never had a particularly close bond to him, it was a sad loss, but an inevitable one, he was at peace.

The other significant story occured in August 2006, Bank Holiday Weekend. This was my uncle, Alec. Not technically my uncle, he was my grandfather's (dad's dad) brother, but we all called him Uncle Alec. He'd had lung cancer, and every time I went to see my grandparents, they'd say how weak he was becoming, and in the end he passed. Now this goes against QOTW principle, because I didn't see his dead body, I couldn't face it. At his funeral, I stayed in my seat, unable to stand through the weight of the tears.

This man was the thing legends are made of. He was the one who took fatherly responsibility for my sister and I, when my dad lacked this ability. He was the one who taught me how to fish, camping stuff, how to play, and cheat at, board games. He taught me half the rude jokes I know now, even though I was too young to really know what they meant. It's really hard to describe how much of an impact someone has on your life, but he just did. Nothing I say here will ever do him justice really.

Even though it's been a while, I still don't deal with this too well, he was supposed to be the crazy drunk at my wedding, with all the fun stories to tell. The thing that saddens me most, is I learned the coolest things about him, at his funeral, stuff like him knowing Swahili, from serving out there when he was younger. I'd give anything to chat to him about that now, just because there's so much stuff I never knew til it was too late. But the thing that sticks out to me is my last conversation with him, and as such my last words were, me hurrying to get off the phone, as I had to go meet my mum for lunch. Nothing shakes that guilt.

Apologies for length and all that, but hey, it's a story at any rate.
(Fri 29th Feb 2008, 6:13, More)

» Cheap Tat

Another Birthday
Just remembered another birthday one.

Twas a friend's 17th Birthday, and as such, we wanted to do something special, and make him feel special too. In the worst sense of the word.

At the time, I lived above a cheap tat store, creatively named Cutprice. So myself and 3 friends went in there to pick presents, because we're cheap. Instead of presents, we decided to be bastards, in the way only good friends can. We put our pennies together, and bought our goodies, plotting our devious scheme.

The evil plan was unleashed the next day, at college, sneaking our goodies out of our bags, we got the one of the group to pin the poor guy to a chair, while two of us attacked him with MASSIVE pink pants. Once we'd wrestled these onto him, we made sure to duct tape him to the chair so he couldn't escape the undergarment nightmare. To top it off one of us brought forth a plastic tiara and fairy wand, made sure the wand was taped in hand, and tiara on head. That's how he spent the rest of that lesson, and our lecturer couldn't keep a straight face. Neither could he, which was great, he was always up for a laugh, so we abused that.

So there it is, making a tit out of someone in the middle of a classroom on their birthday, for the cost of 3 whole english pounds!

We did bake him a cake too, to make up for it, but we're not that nice, so it was iced with 'Happy Birthday you smelly cunt'. That's friendship folks.
(Thu 10th Jan 2008, 8:06, More)
[read all their answers]