Imagine being in a room filled with people where the joy is infectious. You are in a permanent state of giddy excitement, laughing and hugging and feeling like you will all never run out of conversation.
So sleeping is quite possibly the best part of my day. Or it was until I started getting dreams every. Single. Night. This wouldn’t be an issue if they were nice dreams, where I get to eat lots of chocolate or fly about the world. No, the dreams that I get are, more often than not, nightmares, and as a result I usually wake up several times when I’m meant to be sleeping. They’re usually about something chasing me, or missing work and getting fired. I don’t really see the point of these dreams; they do nothing to help with problem solving, which is what dreams are supposed to do. Instead, I find that my ability to avoid and solve problems is made so much worse by the lack of sleep I’m getting on a daily basis.
Dreams are pretty neat, when you think about it. While I also enjoy the ol’ deep sleep, unconscious blackout, dead-lite slumber, you can’t deny how cool it is that our brains regularly put on shows for us while we sleep. It’s like a free ticket to a cinema built solely for you, with no one sitting behind you to kick the chair or munch nosily on popcorn. Yes, sometimes things get weird – you think you bought a ticket for a rom-com and end up instead watching meaningless horror, but isn’t that part of the attraction? Spinning the roulette wheel of dreams keeps things spicy.
Recreational drugs and mental health problems; two things many people have experience with separately, though some together. I am part of the latter group. For the past few years, I’ve been using MDMA, smoking weed, and taking 40mg of Citalopram a day to manage my depression.
As is the case when any underground activity enters the public consciousness, a stream of sensationalist media is sure to emerge in response. 2016’s moral panic of choice has been over chemsex; the use of certain drugs to facilitate and enhance sex for gay and bisexual men. Chemsex has been the subject of a number of headlines and thinkpieces recently, following a number of deaths where chemsex is thought to have been directly implicated, and comes after the release of the documentary Chemsex for Vice, involving harrowing testimonials from those involved in the scene. What is needed most though, amongst the horror stories and fearmongering, is open and honest information about chemsex, and how to partake in it safely and responsibly.
Type 1 diabetes is an incurable autoimmune disease, occurring when the body attacks part of the pancreas and its insulin-producing cells. Insulin regulates the amount of sugar in the blood, so if these cells are destroyed, the body can no longer produce insulin. This results in a dangerously high sugar level, which, if left untreated, leads to a life-threatening complication called diabetic ketoacidosis (or DKA). Because I have type 1 diabetes, my pancreas produces absolutely no insulin, so I must administer my own through daily injections.
Guðni Jóhannesson, the President of Iceland (not the shop one) has launched a whirlwind of controversy after he claimed he would like to ban pineapple on pizza. The comments, made at an informal Q&A at an Icelandic secondary school, prompted international backlash, and the President – who holds a largely ceremonial role – had to clarify that he did not have, and did not want to have, the power to ban the “delicacy”. Banning Hawaiian pizza would be a serious overstep of the President’s power, and potentially threaten the Icelandic political system as a whole – yet, isn’t it worth it?