<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5459782863484273209</id><updated>2011-07-08T12:12:07.000+01:00</updated><category term='self-loathing'/><category term='Depression'/><category term='selfishness'/><category term='weed'/><category term='family'/><category term='Red Alert'/><category term='music'/><category term='school'/><category term='bullied'/><category term='sobbing'/><category term='Piano'/><category term='love'/><category term='work'/><title type='text'>Screaming Pan</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Pan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02491760378380735757</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZjCpkMcaGkI/R1aVXS3VP2I/AAAAAAAAAA4/BtFa3cdvDV0/S220/pan5.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5459782863484273209.post-2172301750314993358</id><published>2009-09-22T22:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T22:33:35.924+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Depression'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='selfishness'/><title type='text'>Selfishness</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px; "&gt;I know it sounds selfish but I'm sure that people are forgetting that I'm suffering just as much as (if not more than) Kaz.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I desperately want to talk to people about how I'm feeling, what's going on in my head, but I really don't want to;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;a) Bum people out when I speak to them&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;b) Bore them about my/Kaz's problems&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;c) Because of the above two, make them want to avoid talking to me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What should I do?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5459782863484273209-2172301750314993358?l=screamingpan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/feeds/2172301750314993358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5459782863484273209&amp;postID=2172301750314993358' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/2172301750314993358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/2172301750314993358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/2009/09/selfishness.html' title='Selfishness'/><author><name>Pan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02491760378380735757</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZjCpkMcaGkI/R1aVXS3VP2I/AAAAAAAAAA4/BtFa3cdvDV0/S220/pan5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5459782863484273209.post-8415214814486702342</id><published>2008-12-10T10:19:00.004Z</published><updated>2008-12-10T10:29:09.469Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sobbing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Depression'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Red Alert'/><title type='text'>Insight</title><content type='html'>I think I've worked out from yesterday why exactly I smoke so much weed; it is to keep me "happy".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I'm stoned I don't think about myself. My mind feels light and free. I know this is an avoidance technique but it works so damned well. Plus I enjoy being stoned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was horrible. I was in a right state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tried to play Red Alert, doing some skirmishes against the computer and got raped repeatedly (which really wound me up/upset me), then I started to do the washing up, gave up after 5 mins because I kept on dropping things, splashing myself, getting water and bubbles everywhere, then tried to go to sleep (at 8:20pm), laid down sobbing for about 10-15mins before realising that there's no hope in hell of me going to sleep so continued/finished off the washing up (with lots more swearing and sobbing), then attempted to do some more gaming. Failed miserably; my attention span on each game was no more than 10-15mins. Managed to "calm down", although I wouldn't call it calmed, I would say more "numbed", went to bed with Kaz around midnight and watched a couple of episodes of Family Guy before dozing off around 12:45-1:00am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now back in work again, feeling a bit "better", wouldn't say that I'm particularly happy, but I don't feel as miserable and depressed as I did last night (either that or I vented a shit load out without really realising it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to everyone who's been helping me with this, I'm sorry, I know it's not nice to witness, especially for Kaz.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5459782863484273209-8415214814486702342?l=screamingpan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/feeds/8415214814486702342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5459782863484273209&amp;postID=8415214814486702342' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/8415214814486702342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/8415214814486702342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/2008/12/insight.html' title='Insight'/><author><name>Pan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02491760378380735757</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZjCpkMcaGkI/R1aVXS3VP2I/AAAAAAAAAA4/BtFa3cdvDV0/S220/pan5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5459782863484273209.post-2512310976917741027</id><published>2008-12-09T14:15:00.004Z</published><updated>2008-12-09T14:44:02.385Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='self-loathing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bullied'/><title type='text'>I'd rather live in ignorance</title><content type='html'>I think I could have a problem...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been reading recently about depression and other similar mental illnesses, and I really do fear that I could be suffering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is crazy. I'm not badly well off (if that even makes grammatical sense), I have people and friends around me (ish) who love me, I have a roof over my head, a job (shit pay, but still a job), yet for some reason I still can't get rid of this crushing feeling inside me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Correction, I can, but through the use of cannabis (and even then it doesn't completely do the trick, only numbs the pain).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep on thinking about when my parents sent me to see a child psychologist. I hated him from the start, so much so that I only had one session with him and never called up to make another appointment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm now thinking; could he have told me something about myself which could explain this? Or am I just a selfish, self-centred little cunt who should stop whining?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I was... probably 14-15, I've hated myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, "hate" sounds too soft and fluffy for it. I despise myself. If I saw myself walking through the street I'd probably spit on me, knowing everything I've done in my life. I want to be able to leave my body, inhabit another, point to 'me' and say "I don't have anything to do with him". Something about being tarnished with a brush? I dunno...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do want to get over this shit, but I'm too afraid to ask for professional help. I don't want to see a councilor or therapist. I don't want to have to go back through my childhood and school days to find out what's wrong with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I was bullied. I was terrorised (again, not as much as some people, but everything's relative). I 'acted out' during school years 3-4 (I don't really remember much of it apart from the punishment; some totally humiliating "colour in the teddy bear box if you've been a good boy" thing). I bullied other people myself (around school years 9-10). I stole (from family and friends). I tried to do anything and everything to be accepted by my peers. I didn't feel as if I "truly belonged" until I left school. Which is really sad because my best years were whilst I was in sixth form.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents... *shakes head* I don't even know where to begin with them. I've lied to them (repeatedly, even when I knew they knew the truth), I've stolen from them, I've disrespected them, I pretty much totally lost them for about 8 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one thing I want to hear from them is the words "I/We love you". Even imagining them saying that now brings tears to my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It also makes me think "Yeah, I know I was bad, I know I was a naughty little shit, but that was 5-10 years in the past. Can't you forgive me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that could be it; I think that they're not saying "I love you" because they haven't/can't forgive me for everything I did in the past. If I could turn the clocks back and do it all right, by the gods, would I do it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tried to have conversations with them about this before, and I normally get the response (because I'll get all choked up and start to cry) "Oh grow up, stop being so sensitive".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my old friends (my very first "girlfriend") from primary/secondary school found a photo of our class. And from the looks of it, even then, it was blatantly obvious that people didn't want to be around me. The comments that appeared connected to the photo were also horrible to read. It was like going back in time and reliving some of those moments. I hated it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things that I used to do because it made me happy but which ended up in being a target for torment (Whenever we used to watch "Oliver!" at school, afterwards I was guaranteed to be in the playground, singing my heart out [and then being ripped for it]).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno... I've got so much going on in my head I can't even see it all straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could I have a problem? Possibly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I do, do I want to have it confirmed and diagnosed? No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could it do more harm not knowing? *shrugs*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5459782863484273209-2512310976917741027?l=screamingpan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/feeds/2512310976917741027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5459782863484273209&amp;postID=2512310976917741027' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/2512310976917741027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/2512310976917741027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/2008/12/id-rather-live-in-ignorance.html' title='I&apos;d rather live in ignorance'/><author><name>Pan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02491760378380735757</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZjCpkMcaGkI/R1aVXS3VP2I/AAAAAAAAAA4/BtFa3cdvDV0/S220/pan5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5459782863484273209.post-2764980658196595226</id><published>2008-12-05T13:51:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-12-05T13:55:23.164Z</updated><title type='text'>Waste of space</title><content type='html'>This is what I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't earn enough&lt;br /&gt;I borrow every month&lt;br /&gt;I can't pay it all back (as much as I'd love to)&lt;br /&gt;I don't handle my stress&lt;br /&gt;I'm not trying hard enough to get a job&lt;br /&gt;I can't afford to get things for the people I want to (and owe it to)&lt;br /&gt;I don't do enough housework&lt;br /&gt;I don't make love often enough&lt;br /&gt;I don't tent to other people's needs enough&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a waste of space.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5459782863484273209-2764980658196595226?l=screamingpan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/feeds/2764980658196595226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5459782863484273209&amp;postID=2764980658196595226' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/2764980658196595226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/2764980658196595226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/2008/12/waste-of-space.html' title='Waste of space'/><author><name>Pan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02491760378380735757</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZjCpkMcaGkI/R1aVXS3VP2I/AAAAAAAAAA4/BtFa3cdvDV0/S220/pan5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5459782863484273209.post-7173057297978915485</id><published>2008-11-01T15:36:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-11-01T15:39:45.997Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Kaz just had her fucking wallet picked out of her pocket in East Ham Argos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are the police going to do about it? FUCK ALL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WHY THE FUCK SHOULD WE SPEND MONEY ON TAXES WHICH GO TO THE POLICE WHEN SOMEONE WHO'S BEEN LIVING IN THIS COUNTRY THEIR ENTIRE LIFE BECOMES A VICTIM OF CRIME AND THEY DO FUCK ALL ABOUT IT??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHY DO PEOPLE HATE THE FUCKING POLICE? BECAUSE YOU'RE USELESS CUNTS!!! ANY COPPER'S GOT A PROBLEM WITH ME SAYING THIS, COME AND FUCKING TALK TO ME FACE TO FACE, BECAUSE AS FAR AS I'M CONCERNED, YOU'RE AS FUCKING BAD AS THE CUNT WHO STOLE HER FUCKING WALLET.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;FUCK ENGLAND, FUCK THE POLICE, AND FUCK ANYONE WHO'S GOT A PROBLEM WITH ME SAYING THIS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5459782863484273209-7173057297978915485?l=screamingpan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/feeds/7173057297978915485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5459782863484273209&amp;postID=7173057297978915485' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/7173057297978915485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/7173057297978915485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/2008/11/kaz-just-had-her-fucking-wallet-picked.html' title=''/><author><name>Pan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02491760378380735757</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZjCpkMcaGkI/R1aVXS3VP2I/AAAAAAAAAA4/BtFa3cdvDV0/S220/pan5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5459782863484273209.post-5506320484298662677</id><published>2008-10-29T17:17:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-10-29T17:20:41.852Z</updated><title type='text'>Loooooow...</title><content type='html'>I feel like fucking crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I wanna rip my own lungs out and smash up my work monitor with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate the way I feel. I feel as if every single direction I turn in leads to a dead end. I feel claustrophobic, panicked, rushed, I can't think clearly, I can't see straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm continuously bringing up bile/acid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to cry more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to move in with Kaz, I want to tell her to fuck off and leave me alone and move back into my parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanna scream so loud that even the gods will hear me, just before I run through the 7th floor window of my office, taking that final sweet lungful of cold air before everything ends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanna live, I wanna die, I wanna get out of this fucked up place.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5459782863484273209-5506320484298662677?l=screamingpan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/feeds/5506320484298662677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5459782863484273209&amp;postID=5506320484298662677' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/5506320484298662677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/5506320484298662677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/2008/10/loooooow.html' title='Loooooow...'/><author><name>Pan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02491760378380735757</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZjCpkMcaGkI/R1aVXS3VP2I/AAAAAAAAAA4/BtFa3cdvDV0/S220/pan5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5459782863484273209.post-7405120304830334655</id><published>2008-10-29T17:11:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-10-29T17:13:29.875Z</updated><title type='text'>Heartburn or heartattack?</title><content type='html'>Every time I get angry now I get a mass load of bile and acid rise up my windpipe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starting to get chest pains with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't want to go to the doctors about it. If I die of a heart attack, so be it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note to others: telling people to "calm down" or "don't stress so much" &lt;em&gt;doesn't&lt;/em&gt; work. It only pisses them off more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5459782863484273209-7405120304830334655?l=screamingpan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/feeds/7405120304830334655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5459782863484273209&amp;postID=7405120304830334655' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/7405120304830334655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/7405120304830334655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/2008/10/heartburn-or-heartattack.html' title='Heartburn or heartattack?'/><author><name>Pan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02491760378380735757</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZjCpkMcaGkI/R1aVXS3VP2I/AAAAAAAAAA4/BtFa3cdvDV0/S220/pan5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5459782863484273209.post-6480137522432135120</id><published>2008-09-11T12:13:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T17:14:49.275Z</updated><title type='text'>No names</title><content type='html'>I'm getting REALLY fucked off with this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the &lt;strong&gt;fuck&lt;/strong&gt; is the point of going there just to be fucked around with, then leave with no fucking answers at all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;REALLY?? WHAT IS THE FUCKING POINT??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How comes I think of things to ask and you don't?? Why the fuck is it always me who has to ask questions?? Don't you give a shit at all?!? Or are you actually happy to be fed lines of continuous bullshit and swallow them like a fine glass of chablis?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I've just realised I've got a meeting with the fucking bank; how the fuck am I going to focus on that when I've got this shit in the forefront of my mind??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;AGHHHHHH!!!!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5459782863484273209-6480137522432135120?l=screamingpan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/feeds/6480137522432135120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5459782863484273209&amp;postID=6480137522432135120' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/6480137522432135120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/6480137522432135120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/2008/09/no-names.html' title='No names'/><author><name>Pan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02491760378380735757</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZjCpkMcaGkI/R1aVXS3VP2I/AAAAAAAAAA4/BtFa3cdvDV0/S220/pan5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5459782863484273209.post-4503353339577282043</id><published>2008-09-11T11:34:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T11:36:36.161+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Piano'/><title type='text'>Music at work</title><content type='html'>ok... This is gonna sound weird, coming from me, but this is &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; starting to piss me off...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone's listening to music at work (not something I'd normally complain about) apart from that it's over the other side of the office, and the only part I can hear are two notes of a piano played in a different order at different timings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're gonna listen to music, please do it so that either only yourself can hear it or so that EVERYONE CAN!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I can hear two notes being played at the same time (not the same two that I could hear before)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WHAT THE FUCK?!?!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5459782863484273209-4503353339577282043?l=screamingpan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/feeds/4503353339577282043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5459782863484273209&amp;postID=4503353339577282043' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/4503353339577282043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/4503353339577282043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/2008/09/music-at-work.html' title='Music at work'/><author><name>Pan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02491760378380735757</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZjCpkMcaGkI/R1aVXS3VP2I/AAAAAAAAAA4/BtFa3cdvDV0/S220/pan5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5459782863484273209.post-2204921785143352797</id><published>2008-09-01T11:00:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T11:01:46.680+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Money</title><content type='html'>I fucking hate money, I wish it didn't exist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish that we &lt;strong&gt;were&lt;/strong&gt; in some Utopian nation where we didn't have to worry about the fiscal value of things. It would make life so much easier...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5459782863484273209-2204921785143352797?l=screamingpan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/feeds/2204921785143352797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5459782863484273209&amp;postID=2204921785143352797' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/2204921785143352797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/2204921785143352797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/2008/09/money.html' title='Money'/><author><name>Pan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02491760378380735757</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZjCpkMcaGkI/R1aVXS3VP2I/AAAAAAAAAA4/BtFa3cdvDV0/S220/pan5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5459782863484273209.post-5875917008482804703</id><published>2008-08-29T09:45:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T09:47:19.549+01:00</updated><title type='text'>London Underground</title><content type='html'>All commuters,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not fucking hard. "Please move right down inside the carriages". It's plain fucking English. You've been crushed up against people before, you're not going to catch anything from them, just be a little bit more fucking considerate and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;actually move, ESPECIALLY if the train is packed!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;COME ON PEOPLE!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5459782863484273209-5875917008482804703?l=screamingpan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/feeds/5875917008482804703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5459782863484273209&amp;postID=5875917008482804703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/5875917008482804703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/5875917008482804703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/2008/08/london-underground.html' title='London Underground'/><author><name>Pan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02491760378380735757</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZjCpkMcaGkI/R1aVXS3VP2I/AAAAAAAAAA4/BtFa3cdvDV0/S220/pan5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5459782863484273209.post-2698563000883120614</id><published>2008-08-28T10:40:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T10:42:05.844+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Haiku</title><content type='html'>Chewing a bullet&lt;br /&gt;       Ideas running out my head&lt;br /&gt;             Want to get some sleep&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5459782863484273209-2698563000883120614?l=screamingpan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/feeds/2698563000883120614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5459782863484273209&amp;postID=2698563000883120614' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/2698563000883120614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/2698563000883120614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/2008/08/haiku.html' title='Haiku'/><author><name>Pan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02491760378380735757</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZjCpkMcaGkI/R1aVXS3VP2I/AAAAAAAAAA4/BtFa3cdvDV0/S220/pan5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5459782863484273209.post-3270885146440326122</id><published>2008-08-26T12:18:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T12:25:39.827+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Why scream?</title><content type='html'>I've been inspired by my friends' blogs to create a new site where I will simply vent at anything and everything that's winding me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been having quite a few problems with my stress recently and have noticed that I'm slipping into a darker and darker place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends have been saying that I'm not myself (and seeing as &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; don't really know who I am, I really must be acting up), I've been short and irritable beyond belief and unfortunately it's starting to have an adverse affect on my relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I scream about you on here, then allow me to apologise now. This is not a page I'm creating to show people up or humiliate them, nor is it for other people to try and remedy situations for myself; this is simply a place for me to vent (and for people to leave comments if they wish!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Definition of "scream" according to the "Wiktionary":&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Noun&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;scream&lt;/strong&gt; (plural &lt;a title="screams" href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/screams"&gt;screams&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;A &lt;a title="loud" href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/loud"&gt;loud&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a title="emphatic" href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/emphatic"&gt;emphatic&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a title="exclamation" href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/exclamation"&gt;exclamation&lt;/a&gt; of extreme &lt;a title="emotion" href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/emotion"&gt;emotion&lt;/a&gt;, usually &lt;a title="horror" href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/horror"&gt;horror&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a title="fear" href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/fear"&gt;fear&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a title="excitement" href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/excitement"&gt;excitement&lt;/a&gt; et cetera. Can be the exclamation of a word, but is usually a sustained, &lt;a title="high" href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/high"&gt;high&lt;/a&gt;-&lt;a title="pitch" href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/pitch"&gt;pitched&lt;/a&gt; vowel sound, particularly /æ/ or /i/, in any case, the loudest and most emphatic sound a human can make tends to be a scream. The term is not generally applied to sounds made by non-humans.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5459782863484273209-3270885146440326122?l=screamingpan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/feeds/3270885146440326122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5459782863484273209&amp;postID=3270885146440326122' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/3270885146440326122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5459782863484273209/posts/default/3270885146440326122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://screamingpan.blogspot.com/2008/08/why-scream.html' title='Why scream?'/><author><name>Pan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02491760378380735757</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZjCpkMcaGkI/R1aVXS3VP2I/AAAAAAAAAA4/BtFa3cdvDV0/S220/pan5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
