Anywho, I've recently decided to go all retro on my bad self and work my way back through the full workings of a particularly famous vampire slayer we all know and love. I am of course referring to Buffy. Man, every time I watch that programme, it's like I'm falling in love with it all over again. It's pretty much the reaction I have for anything Joss Whedon puts out in the world, slotting him in nicely with the group of Writer besties I plan to make this year: In case you haven't been paying attention, this solid group of people now consist of:
Steven Moffat
Mark Gatiss
Joss Whedon
Neil Gaiman
There are others, but I thought I'd take my family's advice and stop dreaming too big. These four are plenty enough for me to be getting on with for 2014. The others can join the flock afterwards. And I also promise not to talk with them about the upcoming project I'm planning (involving my books, Joss Whedon and Steven Moffat) until a proper friendship is formed. I'm just looking to bond with them tbh... whatever happens after that will just be a beautiful development of epic proportions.
Back to watching Buffy... There I was last night, making my way through the collection, of which I am up to Season 5, and two very monumental and sad things happen. I don't really want to give away spoilers but I will say Joyce and Tara both broke my heart.
Now, thanks to a best friend who lived and breathed Buffy growing up, there really isn't an episode of this programme that I don't know off by heart. Seriously... there was absolutely nothing else we would both do with our teenage years, other than watch this programme... and we spent a lot of time together. There is a video somewhere within her keeping where we both sing and act out the entire musical episode of Buffy, accents and all... we were so cool.
Due to this, I knew exactly what was going to happen within this series, so the particular above mentioned sad moments came as no surprise to me. However, this did not stop me from crying on and off for about four hours as I made my way through these episodes.
It was after the initial cry however, that I began to notice something was wrong. As I started to create tears, my eyes seemed to get quite irate about the whole thing. They seemed to be reacting badly to my bodily eye fluids and started to become inflamed, itchy and irritable. I know there does consist a slight amount of rubbing of eyes when crying, so I didn't think much of it. However, once I stopped crying, I noticed that the itchiness didn't wear off for a while. I finally managed to get my eyes under control, mainly by dunking my face in a sink full of water. I returned to the programme and low and behold, someone else had a breakdown, began to cry, and I joined in with their pain. My eyes erupted. It was like my tears were some form of acid and they were not happy to be in contact with it.
This continued until I finally decided to turn off the most depressing episodes of Buffy yet and try and get some sleep. Although, by this time my eyes had become swollen and red, not unlike how they get any time I come into contact with anything feline. I could not work it out. So, instead of spending time thinking things, I decided to just sleep because, let's face it, that's a hell of a lot more fun.
This morning I woke up with normal eyes again and spent the majority of my day, leading up to this point, trying to work out the bizarre allergic reaction I had been subject to. The only conclusion I could come up with? I'm allergic to my tears.
Yes, ladies and gents, I appear to have found a way to become allergic to myself. Because apparently, after this and this happened, my body didn't already hate me enough, and has decided to come up with a new and fun way to torment me.
After thinking about this for a while, I realised that I shouldn't be really all that surprised, given that I had already identified that I have acidic armpits, and so the fact that I am now excreting acid from my eyes as well, makes perfect sense. What I do have a problem with, however, is that, if part of my body has decided to become slightly toxic, I fully expect the rest of my body to adopt, adapt and improve. By not doing so, it is proving that there appears to be some rivalry going on, and I really don't want to have to have yet another conversation with my organs, flesh and body fluid about getting along again. That last time was just painful, none of them would speak and then they all just started shouting at once and I was all "Calm down!" And then the people at Starbucks started suggesting that I took this conversation elsewhere, and I just hate creating a public scene, so I was hella embarrassed about the whole thing.
The problem is, I haven't even finished with all the sad Tara bits in this series (I'm not even going to mention the Big Sad in the next series), so I know there will be future crying involved and, if my body doesn't start behaving itself, I'm going to come in tomorrow looking like I've been punched in both eyes (true story, my eyes look like that after an allergic reaction, I'll take a picture next time to prove it... (just don't wait around for that picture. It's not like I'm going to go and find a cat, then rub it all over my face, for the purpose of creating photographic evidence. I love you guys, but it hasn't quite developed into a "I'm willing to die for a photo" kind of love (yet))). This will mean that an intervention will probably have to be scheduled for soonish. But don't worry, I've learnt from my mistakes, all conversations had with myself are now made strictly within the comfort of my own room so as to avoid any inevitable committing to a mental health hospital.
I may be crazy, but I'm also clever about it.
Peace out my lovelies.
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