Last week I talked about needing attention to feel loved and this week I was reminded why, in the world of adults, this is just not something any of us can expect. Firstly, I tried an experiment on Facebook. Each night that I rode home on the train I posted that I was feeling lonely. I wanted to see how many people would respond and to what extent. A bit of a mean experiment, I realise, but I thought that describing myself as lonely was an emotion that implied I was down but not so down that people should worry. On the first day I got no response. I left it a day and then posted the same thing again. Nowt! Not even my sister asked if I was ok. On the third attempt someone ‘liked’ my status! Then I threw a Facebook hissy fit and declared that despite posting three times that I was feeling lonely, I’d had no response and that they were all bastards. I was off to Twitter, I announced. And suddenly there was an outpouring. But not of sympathy or care, mostly a steady stream of sarcasm followed friendly insults. I think I was told to ‘suck it up, Princess’ as well as getting a few ‘What’s up with you?’ comments.
I hoped that perhaps this was a one off but I witnessed the same thing this week in work. My colleague Sandra came back from a few days off sick. She’d had a chest infection and was still struggling with it to the point she was wheezing heavily all the time. At one point in the day she got up to talk to our boss and could only walk very slowly. He watched her coming before commenting ‘Cor, blimey, you couldn’t sneak up on someone, could you? It sounds like Darth Vader’s coming to get me! Are you my father?’ The resulting laughter left her in a worse state and she spent the entire conversation whispering between wheezes. At the end of their short meeting he pointed to her desk and said ‘Off you go. Back to the Deathstar!’ So it would appear I’m not the only one who isn’t getting any sympathy in this world. And I can breathe, so bonus!
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Saturday, 16 August 2014
Saturday, 9 August 2014
26. It's ALL about ME!
I’ve been feeling sorry for myself the last few days, I can tell you. It’s partly to do with this story I’m writing and all the stuff it’s kicking up from my past and partly because I’m still feeling very shaky about things in my personal life and relationship. I’m one of those people who is always looking for the next thing that will make me happy. And that next thing never turns out to be enough. I blame my childhood.
In fact, the more I look back at my past the more I realise just how often I was having episodes which could be attributed to bipolar (although mild, I think they were definitely there, and my husband agrees). I wonder now whether I always had it. This is a big deal for me. I was only diagnosed in my thirties and was happier thinking that it was brought on by my nervous breakdown than I was thinking that I was always a bit defective.
I was a very sensitive child. I could over-empathise to the point of driving myself into a worse state that the person I was empathising with. The thought of global warming turned me into a nervous wreck from the age of 8 onward. I even had suicidal thoughts then. What was the point of carrying on, it seemed, if we were all going to drown, freeze to death or perish under a fireball from the sun?
I had terrible OCDs. I couldn’t fill an ice cube tray with water and put it in the freezer if I’d been thinking about anyone I loved because it would mean their essence would be frozen and they’d be in pain because of me! I was terrified throughout most of my childhood of all the man-made issues in the world, not to mention the issues of abandonment I was dealing with when my parents divorced, the loss of people and things that meant a lot to me, a lack of love from my mother, no guidance of any kind from adults in my life and an inability to talk about my problems when there was no one there to listen anyway. Is it any wonder I turned into a little bag of nuts?
http://www.inforum.com/event/article/id/430212/group/Life/ - Half of all lifetime cases of mental illness begin by 14.
My husband says that my need to be adored and desire to be the centre of attention is due to the bipolar but I’m not so sure. I don’t want to be the centre of attention. Not in the way you’re thinking. Yes, I want to be successful and happy, but in an understated way. I want my talent and what I can do to be recognised.
I think all that stems from being a little girl with no one to give her what she needed. I’ve spent my entire adult life, and continue to spend it, fixing the problems that that life installed in me. I think what he actually means is, it’s very easy to fall into the trap of becoming a little self-absorbed when every day you have to be very aware of your own feelings, thoughts, rationale, and logic in order to assess how well you are.
This is why, when I see others suffering, I feel bad that I am this self-absorbed person, always asking that my needs be met no matter how illogical or outlandish they might be at times. I came into work this morning and my colleague is in a bad way. He seems very stressed and exhausted. Because he’s a work colleague I don’t know him well enough to probe so in a roundabout way of cheering him up I asked him to help me with the new software licensing acronyms that we’re going to add to our asset management system. I’m pleased to announce that we came up with the following, and a job well done I might add:
Ass.LicK - Assigned License Keys
U.Ass.LicK – Unassigned License Keys
SNot.LicK – Secure Notes License Keys
In fact, the more I look back at my past the more I realise just how often I was having episodes which could be attributed to bipolar (although mild, I think they were definitely there, and my husband agrees). I wonder now whether I always had it. This is a big deal for me. I was only diagnosed in my thirties and was happier thinking that it was brought on by my nervous breakdown than I was thinking that I was always a bit defective.
I was a very sensitive child. I could over-empathise to the point of driving myself into a worse state that the person I was empathising with. The thought of global warming turned me into a nervous wreck from the age of 8 onward. I even had suicidal thoughts then. What was the point of carrying on, it seemed, if we were all going to drown, freeze to death or perish under a fireball from the sun?
I had terrible OCDs. I couldn’t fill an ice cube tray with water and put it in the freezer if I’d been thinking about anyone I loved because it would mean their essence would be frozen and they’d be in pain because of me! I was terrified throughout most of my childhood of all the man-made issues in the world, not to mention the issues of abandonment I was dealing with when my parents divorced, the loss of people and things that meant a lot to me, a lack of love from my mother, no guidance of any kind from adults in my life and an inability to talk about my problems when there was no one there to listen anyway. Is it any wonder I turned into a little bag of nuts?
http://www.inforum.com/event/article/id/430212/group/Life/ - Half of all lifetime cases of mental illness begin by 14.
My husband says that my need to be adored and desire to be the centre of attention is due to the bipolar but I’m not so sure. I don’t want to be the centre of attention. Not in the way you’re thinking. Yes, I want to be successful and happy, but in an understated way. I want my talent and what I can do to be recognised.
I think all that stems from being a little girl with no one to give her what she needed. I’ve spent my entire adult life, and continue to spend it, fixing the problems that that life installed in me. I think what he actually means is, it’s very easy to fall into the trap of becoming a little self-absorbed when every day you have to be very aware of your own feelings, thoughts, rationale, and logic in order to assess how well you are.
This is why, when I see others suffering, I feel bad that I am this self-absorbed person, always asking that my needs be met no matter how illogical or outlandish they might be at times. I came into work this morning and my colleague is in a bad way. He seems very stressed and exhausted. Because he’s a work colleague I don’t know him well enough to probe so in a roundabout way of cheering him up I asked him to help me with the new software licensing acronyms that we’re going to add to our asset management system. I’m pleased to announce that we came up with the following, and a job well done I might add:
Ass.LicK - Assigned License Keys
U.Ass.LicK – Unassigned License Keys
SNot.LicK – Secure Notes License Keys
Saturday, 21 June 2014
19. Hanging On By Ones Fingertips
Today I was reminded just how easy it is to feel as if your whole world is falling apart. Yes, another one of the many fun and fabulous side effects of bipolar Type 2.
Last night my husband and I had a row. Not a big one. Nothing was thrown, ripped or left in a shape different to the one it had before the row started. You know you’ve thrown one too many hissy fits when you lob something across the room in a rage and not even the cat flinches. One thing that did happen was, my husband mentioned he thought I was going to leave him. And the thought of that scenario didn’t scare me. Which scared me.
I spent the whole following morning in a bit of a flap. Did I want to stay? Could I move out? Where would I go? What about my job? I looked at flats briefly on the internet, not sure what I’d be able to afford. Then the panic seeped out onto Facebook and I started showing a few manic signs. My posts became a little strange rather than the funny I was going for. The thought of finding another husband who would put up with the sort of things mine does seemed impossible which led me to feel even more desperate. Was it really worth carrying on at all, I wondered.
I was so concerned with sorting myself out a new life plan that I didn’t notice my phone ringing at lunchtime. When I finally picked it up it was my hubby calling to tell me he’d booked us a weekend away. And it dawned on me that I was leaving, but I wasn’t leaving without him. And suddenly life calmed down again. The bubbling stress that clouded my vision slowly dissipated and everything began to return to normal.
The moral of the story? When you’re arguing with someone with bipolar don’t deviate from the current reality. If you do you may find you come home from work one day to find your wife has moved out and taken ALL the cutlery, except the spoons!
Last night my husband and I had a row. Not a big one. Nothing was thrown, ripped or left in a shape different to the one it had before the row started. You know you’ve thrown one too many hissy fits when you lob something across the room in a rage and not even the cat flinches. One thing that did happen was, my husband mentioned he thought I was going to leave him. And the thought of that scenario didn’t scare me. Which scared me.
I spent the whole following morning in a bit of a flap. Did I want to stay? Could I move out? Where would I go? What about my job? I looked at flats briefly on the internet, not sure what I’d be able to afford. Then the panic seeped out onto Facebook and I started showing a few manic signs. My posts became a little strange rather than the funny I was going for. The thought of finding another husband who would put up with the sort of things mine does seemed impossible which led me to feel even more desperate. Was it really worth carrying on at all, I wondered.
I was so concerned with sorting myself out a new life plan that I didn’t notice my phone ringing at lunchtime. When I finally picked it up it was my hubby calling to tell me he’d booked us a weekend away. And it dawned on me that I was leaving, but I wasn’t leaving without him. And suddenly life calmed down again. The bubbling stress that clouded my vision slowly dissipated and everything began to return to normal.
The moral of the story? When you’re arguing with someone with bipolar don’t deviate from the current reality. If you do you may find you come home from work one day to find your wife has moved out and taken ALL the cutlery, except the spoons!
Saturday, 14 June 2014
18. Just Who’s In Charge Here?!
Apart from finding myself in situations where I’ve given in to my irrational feelings and behaviours, I also find it very difficult to figure out who, or what, is making the decisions in my life sometimes.
The most recent example I can think of is my last contract. The one at the IT company came to an end recently. That was the one where I dared to call 2 of my team mates old women when the workload got a bit frantic and they started flapping about one week. I politely advised them to join the Women’s Institute, and was never able to live it down with the rest of the team. From then on, every time I received an email request for software it would usually be accompanied by an order for raspberry jam. Anyway, before my contract actually ended they offered me a job... and a scone.
All the while they were talking about the job I was very excited and determined I was going to take it when they made the offer official. My hubby kept telling me to consider my options and think about the benefits of contracting and how much I like the freedom of it, but I told him this was a great IT company and it would stand me in good stead for the rest of my career if I took the job.
Then they actually offered it to me and I suddenly felt bored by the whole thing. I couldn’t be bothered to read the spec, stopped trying too hard, lost my motivation and eventually decided I really didn’t want the job at all. By which time my hubby was trying to convince me to take it because a week ago I’d been extoling the virtues of a career with a steady pay cheque. Poor guy doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going.
It’s this massive swing in opinion, desire, direction, call it what you want, that drives him a little potty. He never knows which me is talking or when the scenery might change. Can you imagine decorating a room with me? You’d start in pink only to find me crying on the stairs because ‘when I said pink I wanted yellow.’ How does anyone stand a chance?
How can you ever be sure that your decision isn’t based on a dip in mood or the fact you forgot to take your pills yesterday or even a bad night’s sleep? And if I can’t answer that, being the one who experiences these swings, how can I expect anyone else to? My counsellor (yes I’m lucky enough to have access to one) told me that when I’m going through an episode of any sort I need to use my feelings to direct me, but not in the actual decision making process. What she was explaining was that it’s useful to analyse your feelings and moods, decide whether you feel you’re in a rational or clear frame of mind based on those feelings and then decide whether now is even the right time for you to be making any large decisions. If you feel you’re capable of making one you won’t regret then you should include logical thought and facts in the decision making process and not let your emotions lead you entirely.
I should think that a lot of us will find it hard to fight the impulses that bipolar sends to our brains but what she is also advising is that we slow down and take our time over decisions. This is good advice I feel. Whether I can do it or not is down to me and the discipline I will need to muster.
My manager once said to me that when dealing with a bully you have to stay calm and outwit them. Bullies work on emotion. Their arguments are based on it and therefore logic doesn’t come into their thinking. This struck a chord with me. Not that I class myself as a bully, but the thought that irrational and aggressive behaviour is born of emotion makes total sense. Emotion has no tether after all, no desire other than to be calmed and the only way to do that is to reason with it.
So there you go. Reason with emotion.
Good luck with THAT!
The most recent example I can think of is my last contract. The one at the IT company came to an end recently. That was the one where I dared to call 2 of my team mates old women when the workload got a bit frantic and they started flapping about one week. I politely advised them to join the Women’s Institute, and was never able to live it down with the rest of the team. From then on, every time I received an email request for software it would usually be accompanied by an order for raspberry jam. Anyway, before my contract actually ended they offered me a job... and a scone.
All the while they were talking about the job I was very excited and determined I was going to take it when they made the offer official. My hubby kept telling me to consider my options and think about the benefits of contracting and how much I like the freedom of it, but I told him this was a great IT company and it would stand me in good stead for the rest of my career if I took the job.
Then they actually offered it to me and I suddenly felt bored by the whole thing. I couldn’t be bothered to read the spec, stopped trying too hard, lost my motivation and eventually decided I really didn’t want the job at all. By which time my hubby was trying to convince me to take it because a week ago I’d been extoling the virtues of a career with a steady pay cheque. Poor guy doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going.
It’s this massive swing in opinion, desire, direction, call it what you want, that drives him a little potty. He never knows which me is talking or when the scenery might change. Can you imagine decorating a room with me? You’d start in pink only to find me crying on the stairs because ‘when I said pink I wanted yellow.’ How does anyone stand a chance?
How can you ever be sure that your decision isn’t based on a dip in mood or the fact you forgot to take your pills yesterday or even a bad night’s sleep? And if I can’t answer that, being the one who experiences these swings, how can I expect anyone else to? My counsellor (yes I’m lucky enough to have access to one) told me that when I’m going through an episode of any sort I need to use my feelings to direct me, but not in the actual decision making process. What she was explaining was that it’s useful to analyse your feelings and moods, decide whether you feel you’re in a rational or clear frame of mind based on those feelings and then decide whether now is even the right time for you to be making any large decisions. If you feel you’re capable of making one you won’t regret then you should include logical thought and facts in the decision making process and not let your emotions lead you entirely.
I should think that a lot of us will find it hard to fight the impulses that bipolar sends to our brains but what she is also advising is that we slow down and take our time over decisions. This is good advice I feel. Whether I can do it or not is down to me and the discipline I will need to muster.
My manager once said to me that when dealing with a bully you have to stay calm and outwit them. Bullies work on emotion. Their arguments are based on it and therefore logic doesn’t come into their thinking. This struck a chord with me. Not that I class myself as a bully, but the thought that irrational and aggressive behaviour is born of emotion makes total sense. Emotion has no tether after all, no desire other than to be calmed and the only way to do that is to reason with it.
So there you go. Reason with emotion.
Good luck with THAT!
Sunday, 16 March 2014
5. Team Talk
Let’s talk work…
...
...
God, I’m bored already.
The thing I’ve found with bipolar and never wanting to let on just how difficult things are for me is that I have to be constantly aware of what others around me think. ‘There’s that weird girl that giggles to herself and talks in riddles.’ That’s not the girl I want to be by any means. I work hard NOT to be that person and it can be exhausting. It’s also upsetting to admit that I feel that way, but how many of us can say the words ‘I work hard not to be me’? How many of us are unhappy with our inner thoughts?
You normal people out there aren’t that far from where I am, you know. You’re one stressful period, one depressive episode or one trauma away, in fact. You think I don’t see you all walking around smiling to yourselves? Laughing at the conversations that take place in your heads? I’m just a little more evolved in that I’ve also developed personalities… some with bank accounts of their own.
I try to be someone else so that I can have the life I want, not the life I could end up with if I gave in to this condition. And I think it would be easy to give in some days. Just stay in bed on bad days and dance around the street in wellies, vest and knickers on good days. People would just shake their heads and thank their lucky stars that’s not one of their kids out there making mud pies and talking to the bus.
Anyway, we were talking about work! I’m contracting at the moment which is exciting because you get to learn a lot and you have no commitment. It’s almost the perfect way to be for someone with my condition. As soon as it stops being exciting you move on, kick them to the curb, run away laughing and mooning the office on your way out… ok, so that’s more of a Janice move. But they definitely wouldn’t be getting a Christmas card from me if I left.
Currently I work for an IT firm. It’s fantastic. I always wanted to be a specky four eyes techno geek and now I’m one of the non-technical variety. I never knew when watching ‘The IT Crowd’ that life ACTUALLY is like that in the world of IT. Everyone here has an amazing sense of humour and I’m not sure if it’s because of the fact they were ALL bullied relentlessly in school but they have formed a band of brothers in which jolly japes and tom-foolery abound.
I was recently integrated into this band when the network team presented me with a mug stating ‘I love Spreadsheets’ on my birthday. I’m telling you people, there were tears.
My colleague Noel is very methodical and thorough in his work. His laugh makes me want to double up. Imagine Baloo (from Jungle Book) meets donkey (from Shrek).
Sean is my boss. He’s absolutely lovely but when he gets stressed he starts swearing without swearing. I’ve never heard so many bother’s, frig off’s and fudges in all my life.
Alfy is my third and final colleague. He’s definitely real. I’ve checked. He knows every place to eat around the city (which is quite big for a short person like me). Unfortunately Alfy ISN’T a short person like me. He’s a massive person with long, gangly legs. I felt like I’d run a mini marathon by the end of lunch when he'd shown me round, and I was so hungry I had to buy TWO sandwiches.
There are many traditions where I work. I know not how many of them started but one of my favourites is the ‘Night, Phil,’ gag. This has been running every evening for some years as far as I can make out but recently a new twist was added to an old favourite.
So, to fill you in on the joke, we have a guy named Phil who is responsible for the Domino Server and email accounts. He sits at the very far end of the office. I’m in the middle and then there’s another team further up from me. Every evening Phil gets up, walks through his department and each and every member in turn says ‘Night Phil.’ The first day I was here I didn’t really notice it but it happens every night and now every night it makes me giggle. ‘Night Phil.’ ‘Night Phil.’ ‘Bye Phil…’ (You probably have to be there).
So anyway, this week Phil was leaving and we had the ‘Night Phil,’ routine, when he spotted someone up the other end of the office and headed off up there. Five minutes later one of his colleagues wandered out of his department, spotted Phil and turned to say to his team ‘Hey everyone, Phil’s still here.’ To which they all responded in turn ‘Hi Phil,’ ‘Hi Phil’, ‘Alright Phil’.
It was very funny… I promise you.
Sunday, 2 March 2014
3. Vanilla Me
So my last post introduced you to ‘bipolar’ me. This time I’d like you to get to know ‘me’ me. I’m the rather boring side of the personality Rubik’s cube that is me. I like chocolate and tele and I love my family and my cats and because I’m the boring, neutral, vanilla part of me, I fear the other personalities might gang up on me one day and bury me in the woods somewhere. I think they’re capable. And they know I have no sense of direction so I’d never make it back again.
Since I was a kid I wanted to be Melanie Griffiths in Working Girl. I wanted to wear a suit, work in the city, earn mega bucks, have MASSIVE hair and use big words like ‘infrastructure’ and ‘acquisition’. That was my idea of success. It was so far removed from my world as a child where I had no control over anything. This world of ‘The City’ was where dreams came true and on top of it all you could be rich and loved by Harrison Ford. Who wouldn’t want THAT?
So that’s what I’ve worked for. However, I have the distinct feeling that depression held me back for a loooong old time. Now I’m not making excuses here, don’t get me wrong, but depression is an illness and if you had flu every day for 15 years your career wouldn’t be as perky as a cheer-leaders butt cheeks either.
I had a nervous breakdown at the age of 29, fought my way out of the well of depression that I fell into only to find that at the top of the well wasn’t the home and the family I knew but a hyped up, slightly insane version of the world which shouted in my ears and made me feel as if I was going crazy every day. I think this was when the bipolar started showing itself. Of course, at that time I had no idea what bipolar was or why I was feeling so unable to keep a grasp on reality at times. I started seeing things (which still happens even today). Mostly people lurking in bushes or hiding behind lamp posts, sometimes other things like animals.
I couldn’t follow people’s conversations if there was more than one person talking in front of me. It was like I couldn’t hear them or my brain wasn’t able to react quickly enough to take everything in. I also felt as if I was 2 inches inside myself, if that makes sense. Like I was looking out of my head and not quite part of my own body. Not attached, just, following it around. Have you ever sat in a noisy school canteen where everyone’s talking but you can’t actually make out anything clearly? That was the state of things in my head.
Life was tough and confusing as well as isolating, but I refused to speak to my psychiatrist about any of what I was feeling. I didn’t want to be put in a straightjacket or carted off to hospital. I’d read so many horror stories about those who end up in mental wards and what they go through while they’re there, not to mention what it might do to any career I managed to salvage after all this was over. They even ask you when applying for insurance whether you’ve ever been committed! So I kept quiet, but the feeling of going mad only grew stronger.
To be continued…
Since I was a kid I wanted to be Melanie Griffiths in Working Girl. I wanted to wear a suit, work in the city, earn mega bucks, have MASSIVE hair and use big words like ‘infrastructure’ and ‘acquisition’. That was my idea of success. It was so far removed from my world as a child where I had no control over anything. This world of ‘The City’ was where dreams came true and on top of it all you could be rich and loved by Harrison Ford. Who wouldn’t want THAT?
So that’s what I’ve worked for. However, I have the distinct feeling that depression held me back for a loooong old time. Now I’m not making excuses here, don’t get me wrong, but depression is an illness and if you had flu every day for 15 years your career wouldn’t be as perky as a cheer-leaders butt cheeks either.
I had a nervous breakdown at the age of 29, fought my way out of the well of depression that I fell into only to find that at the top of the well wasn’t the home and the family I knew but a hyped up, slightly insane version of the world which shouted in my ears and made me feel as if I was going crazy every day. I think this was when the bipolar started showing itself. Of course, at that time I had no idea what bipolar was or why I was feeling so unable to keep a grasp on reality at times. I started seeing things (which still happens even today). Mostly people lurking in bushes or hiding behind lamp posts, sometimes other things like animals.
I couldn’t follow people’s conversations if there was more than one person talking in front of me. It was like I couldn’t hear them or my brain wasn’t able to react quickly enough to take everything in. I also felt as if I was 2 inches inside myself, if that makes sense. Like I was looking out of my head and not quite part of my own body. Not attached, just, following it around. Have you ever sat in a noisy school canteen where everyone’s talking but you can’t actually make out anything clearly? That was the state of things in my head.
Life was tough and confusing as well as isolating, but I refused to speak to my psychiatrist about any of what I was feeling. I didn’t want to be put in a straightjacket or carted off to hospital. I’d read so many horror stories about those who end up in mental wards and what they go through while they’re there, not to mention what it might do to any career I managed to salvage after all this was over. They even ask you when applying for insurance whether you’ve ever been committed! So I kept quiet, but the feeling of going mad only grew stronger.
To be continued…
Monday, 24 February 2014
1. Brave New World
The hardest thing I’ve found about actually starting to write a blog is knowing what to write in the first place. There are so many themes in life that I could tackle, so many things I could talk about but as with most things in life, interest in each one can be fleeting.
I could talk to you about my work but let’s face it, if it’s something they have to PAY me to do to get me here, why would you want to spend your spare time reading about it? I could talk about my private life but there’s only so much I want to give up, being truthful. So bi-polar then. I have some interesting moments with that but I’m type 2, and not severe, so do I really have a right to comment on it like an expert?
So anyway, my plan is to talk about everything, I think. I will do my best to pick out the most interesting or funny aspects of all of those areas and speak honestly…well, as honestly as I dare on an open forum(!). And I hope that you accept me for what I am on here. My mind wanders all day into silly day dreams, fantasies about my next job ten minutes after I started the current one and my friends lives and predicaments. Here is where I will share my thoughts and hope that someone finds them amusing enough to read them and possibly even take the time to comment.
I could talk to you about my work but let’s face it, if it’s something they have to PAY me to do to get me here, why would you want to spend your spare time reading about it? I could talk about my private life but there’s only so much I want to give up, being truthful. So bi-polar then. I have some interesting moments with that but I’m type 2, and not severe, so do I really have a right to comment on it like an expert?
So anyway, my plan is to talk about everything, I think. I will do my best to pick out the most interesting or funny aspects of all of those areas and speak honestly…well, as honestly as I dare on an open forum(!). And I hope that you accept me for what I am on here. My mind wanders all day into silly day dreams, fantasies about my next job ten minutes after I started the current one and my friends lives and predicaments. Here is where I will share my thoughts and hope that someone finds them amusing enough to read them and possibly even take the time to comment.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)