Why do the Crazies Pick Me?

Okay, so usually in a first post you would say Hi and tell everyone how great a blogger you're going to be and why they should vote for you and what-not, but anyone looking at my blog probably knows me because let's face it who else would be interested and frankly even those who know me will probably get bored! So I thought I'd start by telling you all about my interesting week so far. I am currently doing an SSM (special study module) in Respiratory medicine - wow, sounds exciting, no?! However, I just finished a 5 week stint in a psychiatric hospital - yeah, that always gets them chomping at the bit (let met tell you, there are some really crazy people out there, not that they can help it, but wow, some of the things I've heard - confidentiality prevents me from disclosing)! Anyway, I must have gotten some of their crazy germs or something because (are future doctors allowed to be so un-PC?) ever since then strange people have started accosting me in the street. On Sunday a nicely dressed, freshly coiffed lady in her late 30's began screaming (and when I say screaming I mean her face was turning purple with the effort) at me from about 50 yards away as I walked to the grocery store. At first I could not make out her words because of the ferocious way she was gargling and the bustling foot traffic ahead of me (why wasn't she yelling at them, huh?), but when she got right up in my face she screached 'I'm not fucking off my head' several times and hit me with her large, but mostly empty handbag. And yes, she spat her saliva all over my face. I wanted to tell her to go get a top-up on her antipsychotic meds, but upon further reflection I thought better of it because she was way bigger than me! Apparently she had read my mind, because at 50 yards I was thinking just that - 'she's off her head'. I could barely hold my face straight and pissed myself laughing once I was round the corner. When it rains it pours because yesterday I was walking down Byers Rd. (the sort of main street near uni for anyone who hasn't visited me - ehem, everyone). Well, this skinny old guy in about 10 layers of clothing and using one of those proper institutional metal walking sticks stoppd me to tell me he liked my outfit - my first instinct was to say thanks politely, which I did as I trotted past picking up the pace. What, might you ask, is so weird about that? Well, I thought so too, but then i looked down and I was wearing what might be classed as the most bland and boring of hospital attire on the planet - librarian doesn't even begin to describe it- no one in their right mind would compliment it. And then i glanced back to see him nodding his head at a trash can and cackling madly. Then last night as i was walking home with Emily when another strange man who reeked of unwashed hair homed in on me a started jabbering under his breath. I could only make out the word 'knickers', but I'm guessing the rest was lewd. So I must have an aura or something. Anyway, I would just like to send a message to anyone with a mental health problem - be it personality disorder, mood disorder, or otherwise - please don't try to date me (those i refer to know who you are), don't yell at me, don't talk about my knickers, don't invade my nice peaceful mostly-sane little bubble in any way. Thank you.