June 24, 2006

I am waiting for tinymce to upload (yawn) and listening to a CD my dear friend, let's call her Lindsey, made me.

Yesterday I went out with Lindsey and another friend... named ummm Crytsal, I don't know whatever. Anyways, the three of us went to a nice small show, a benefit for Breast Cancer Action Montreal and had some dinner, all good times.

Then just before we all went our separate ways, something went a little weird. I won't go into the deets, it's too personal, but basically I let the fact that I think Lindsey is a) super-hot, b) super-confident, calm and collected, c) a lot more secure and happy than I am etc... get in my way, and said some things that were kind of mean, and selfish.

Of course, since I am a big girl I caught myself immediately and when Crystal and I biked away I explained my mistake, and said "I will apologize tomorrow, god I feel like a chump. Why do I still unload my shit on my friends, it's totally uncool?" the last was more of a rhetorical question, and Crystal and I some jokes on the way home about how now that cellphones existed insecure faux-pas repairs could happen almost instantly etc.. etc..

When I got home I wrote a quick apologetic email and turned in.

In the morning/early afternoon I was greeted by not one, but two aplogetic, and heartfelt emails, one from Lindsey, who said she was doing the same thing to me, basically (although I had not registered) and one from Crystal saying that she felt badly at joking about my obvious discomfort, an dmaybe was jealous of me for some other trivial reasons. I am convinced she is just jealous of my swank-dank wireless grovelling machine. ;)

Anyways, what the hell is wrong with us girls?

Why are we all so jealous of each other, if we are all equally awesome and lovely and obviously self-aware to an almost uncanny extent. We shouldn't be jealous we should be smug and self-satisfied as chessy cats with tits.

But we aren't, we are just constantly worried about measuring up to each other - when we are each the others biggest fans. It makes no sense.

I for one accept all the apologies, extend heartfelt apologies of my own, and now, lets' get over this weird Bridget Jones-esque rut of self-criticism, and start appreciating ourselves as much as we should.

Phewf..

Okay tinymce is done. goodbye.

Oh.. nice, listening to KD Lang singing Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen - this is the perfect song to end the friendship revelation I had today.

May 9, 2006

I met with my investment counsellor Nectarios again today.

It didn't go so well as our first date.

When he asked me what kind of investments I wanted. I said;

"I don't know, I want the kind that have strong/stable growth and large returns."

Then I said;

"I guess that's like asking for someone who loves you for your personality but is also incredibly good looking, right?"

We worked out a 70/30 split in the direction of looks over stability. I mean, growth over stability, right.

Poor Nectarios, I asked all sorts of questions and unfortunately our metaphoric approaches to finance were completely at odds.

He said; " It's like, you know when you're driving you should always check behind and in front when you stop. That's why you want to be aware of your portfolios future and historic growth trends."

I said;

"Nectarios, I just got my learners permit two weeks ago."

He said;

"Oh."

Oh. That's my kinda answer.

What else? I caved and bought a cellular phone, not because that many people call me, but so I have something to do now while I am waiting in lines. And so that when I hear other people being obnoxious on their phones I can whip out my scarlet bad-boy and obnox right back at them.

Oh yeah it was free (the phone) and it came rght to my door, that helped a lot too. When you're screaming down the land-line; "Talk louder my phone is broken!" and the doorbell rings and the nice young man from Telus is standing there holding out a bright red video phone for free. 70/30 rules.

Speaking of obnoxius, I am trying to divorce my grief counsellor. I am evidently not grieving anymore. Most of what I whine about these days has the definite odour of belly-ache about it, and frankly, ever since the dancing frog episode I have wondered at the actual use-value of our sessions.

I forgot I had an appointment yesterday, she met me outside and we sat on the buildings stoop and a session.

Frog Lady: "So do you think you still need to refer to yourself as a bisexual?"

Me: "What!?"

Frog Lady: "Is it still important to you that you define yourself as a bisexual"

Me: "Well, yes, I am still interested in both sexes, so why wouldn't I?" (Note of mistrust enters voice).

What I should have said was, "So the fact that I am not seeing a girl means that I must not be interested in girls.. The fact is I am not seeing anyone right now, so by your logic I must be asexual. Personally I prefer the word picky, but hey I am not a mental health porfessional, now am I? Oh and FTR I prefer the word queer, it's so much more inclusive."

Which was just the tip of the iceberg.. fer craps sake.

Two minutes later she's asking me to describe a particular habit of mine that I think contributes to some not insignificant moments of self-criticism and low self esteem. Sensitive stuff this, I mean, not 10 hanky material, but the kind of information that I assume a qualified therapist may perhaps be able to help me out with.

Except that half-way through my second sentence Frog Lady stops me and starts waving maniacally at someone coming up the street. It's a young lady, my age, maybe little older. Frog lady and young lady launch into an animated discussion about a fundariaiser at which Frog Lady met the young lady's parents. Frog lady loves them, she wants to sail with them. etc.. (Unfortunately Frog Lady though a fan of sailing has no boat and thus cannot rightfully claim the title sailor, bien non?)

Of course I am such a wimpstar I didn't interject at any point to say; "Ahem we were discussing my self-esteem issues, I am paying you, I don't care what fershnicken fundraiser you saw blondies family at, we're on my dime. NO! of course not, I just sat there staring at the buds falling off the trees feeling like a badly strummed guitar. That's why I am in *therapy* for craps sake. Because I
have trouble standing up for myself and dealin with conflict in a proactive self- affirming manner (I take it all out on the blog obviously).

(self-dialogue)Relationships have died for lesser crimes than this, I haven't learned a damn thing. sigh.

Anyways.

Blondie finally walks away. She has the smile of someone who is either heavily medicated or perpetually insincere. I hate that.

Frog Lady turns to me, and says "I love that girl, she's so pretty, so cute, nice too, and smart, she's amazing. She an dher husband just had a little baby, just incredible, and her parents! Such nice people, her father is incredibly wealthy, but her mother was really simple, I mean her jewelery I have never seen such diamonds, but still really simple, and that girl just has such a good heart...It just goes to show you that it isn't money that makes a person good or bad.. it's "

I didn't catch the rest, the twangy guitar had turned angry power chord.
Not because of this girl she can be and probably is whoever she wants to be, (although her smile was totally obnoxious) because of my redonkulous *therapist* sitting there name-dropping on my nickel.

For fecks sake I don't care if the rich are nice and simple, I just want to feel good about the person I am, the rich can take of themselves.

As Jen said that's a couple a thousand bucks well spent.

so yeah, I'm in the market for a handpuppet that looks like Freud and can speak in a german accent.

April 19, 2006

Tomorrow morning, I have my first step in the process of becoming driver, the theory test.

Ask me, hey Flink did you forget about the test until just a week ago right before you left town, and have now crammed all 5 chapters of the book into your fairly forgetful head?

YES!

Ask me hey Flink do multiple choice tests admnistsered via 8 bit moniter make your eyes bleed, your brain choke up, and your hands reach up to automatically throttle yourself?

YES!

Ask me hey Flink did the girl at your driving school listen to a Bollywood meets Chariots of Fire mash-up for the entire two hours you were trying to memorize the chapters on road signs, the highway code and your class 5 license?

YES!

Ask me Hey flink, are sure you are going to pass ?

FUCK YEAH! At least I hope so..

What are my chances kids?

I 'm gonna say 75% in favor of passing as long as they don't ask me too much about the white and green signs with the arrows on them, or the different types of highways, I can't keep those straight to save my life.

April 11, 2006

I just found out my neighbour was a counsellor at a Jewish progressive summer camp.

How cool is that! I was a camper at a progressive Jewish summer camp!

He started singing "Oy vey I want a banana..' and I just about went... (c'mon finish the sentence I know you can do it..)

It's too busy to blog. Interesting things have happened. I got a haircut (I look like a flapper version of olive oyle). I got a GP, which is akin to finding the dodo-bird in montreal.

She asked me if I had any other health concerns following my check-up. She asked like she wanted to know, as if she were my doctor or something, not some harassed nurse-practitioner at a university clinic or a walk-in. I almost heard violins playing, I almost went out and bought her flowers, then I realized a GP is supposed to do that.

Okay but here's the thing. I've been having the skin misery of a young adult lately, and it's not so cool. I mean, I ain't shallow (okay I am kind of shallow) but I don't like looking like my hobby is playing b-ball out by the pool and collecting ninja turtle figurines.

So I asked my new GP ( I get a shiver every time I say that) if she could recommend something, and she handed me two sample packs of birth control lyte.

So.. what am I to do. I won't bore you with my political hatred of birth control (It makes women sole custodians of any pre-natal responsability. It turns the hormonal wonderfulness/scariness of my body into a factory farm for ovum etc..). I will mention that the list of risks is insane and includes things like partial blindness, liver tumours, dizziness and depression. So many risks in fact, the little sheet that came with my blister-pack was printed in about four point font. How small is that you ask?? It's about this small.

But, if I take these pills maybe I won't feel like a walking before picture anymore, which come tank-top season is going to feel mighty good.

So do I give up my rather more practicial long- term health concerns, and my ethical hatred for fertility science so that I can get back my milk-maids skin. Or do I live up to my political chops and throw the pills out while chanting "Free to be you and me" or "Up with people!"?

Help please.

I will take any comments but none that make me feel worse than I already do about the kind of person I am thank you very much, kindly. Ie; don't be judgin'

March 23, 2006

I went to a Drupal meet-up today, and it was hella-fun. John, Jen and I went together and put on name-tags and got all enthused about 4.7. What a trip. It's like an Elks Lodge for geeks. Is it weird to say I am looking forward to the next meet-up? I am. Thanks to koumbit for organizing that.

I had to leave before the beer and pizza to meet with my accountant who collects birds. She has a love-bird who lost it's mate, it's been picking out it's own feathers for two years now, poor thing.

Small things make me appreciate how much I love being in this city. Having an accountant who is also an ornithologist, sitting at her table covered in bird-seed talking about how to build up my business expenses. I wonder if that is typical of Montreal, no-one is just one thing.

Later I walked home and saw the AA sign up outside the rectory. All the AA'ers were outside having a smoke break. This is something I love about St. Henri in particular. AA is supposed to be a discreet entity, you go in anonymous and come out anonymous, no one has to know who you are. Not so in my neighbourhood. Everyone knows it's an AA meeting due to the giant AA sandwich board up outside the doors every thursday night, and during breaks all the AA-ers stand on the porch making loud crowded smokey conversation.

Okay I just got some spam and the title is "Loves conquers all things except poverty and toothache" forget this contextual title that's going up there right now.

Also on the way home I stopped to buy some toilet paper, and realized that it might be over-thinking things to get so incensed about tp that is NOT MADE FROM RECYCLED FIBRES. What the frig people, it is not a good startegy to kill trees to wipe your bum repeat after me, TREE=hundreds of years of growth HUMAN POO= at least once every 24 hours which is gonna run out first you do the math.

Okay I know Charmin just feels better, but if you make one sacrifice in your day to day life why not let it be yours sensitive little rosebud okay?

I know I am overreacting. I could stand by the side of the raod and cry fat tears over car-clogged arteries, but you gotta pick your battles and apparently, the family obsession with scatalogical issues and the environment has come home to roost.

Jen says I should start one of those one woman crusades that makes me look like a weirdo. Were I less concerned about looking like an utter spaz, I would. I would call it "Don't Cut Down Trees For Your Pees."

The logo would be a giant bum floating over an old growth forest.

This is a KA post.

March 10, 2006

Anti-abortion law passes, and apparently "We're ordering lobster and having a party."

February 28, 2006

I went for another driving lesson today.

I watched a video called "Turning left...right!"

I won't lie, it scared me. Especially the part where the narrator said: "It is important to remain focused on the task at hand and check for every possible outcome."

That's *so* not my style. In fact, I usually wear headphones with loud music blaring because in my life the task at hand which requires my concentration usually happens between my two eyes and behind my cranium.

The video was made in the late 80's so one of the characters had a car-phone, the kind with a cord. The risk being illustrated with Mr. Carphones story was the obvious; "Do not talk on your car phone while performing left turns". I wonder if the SAAQ had any idea that eventually pedestrians would also become oblivious to their surrroundings due to telephony. Does that change Mr. Carphones obligation? You know, if he's about to plow into Mr. Cellphone who crossed on a blinking green because he was paying more attention to his conversation then the traffic signals?

Also, is it entirely neccessary to treat me to a montage of accident victims as the video opens? I don't need to see a blood-stained engagement ring to know that driving is serious business, and that marriage is a trap from which there is no escape.

It would do me good to remember right now that my entire raison d'etre w/r/t getting this license is that I want to listen to road-music while driving on the desolate highways that separate the populated bits of Canada from each other. There's no other reason. Once I get my class 5 license I will not be taking anyone to Ikea (ahem, Jane..) and I am not going to drive in the city. So I should be able to keep any head-on collisions with fiancees to a minimum.

Anyways, Jen sent me this yesterday it's a metro map of montreal turned into anagram poetry and is super-awesome-beautiful-smart etc...

Let's all say a quiet word of thanks to public transportation, it's kept me off the road for 10 years, and if it weren't for bands like VHS or BETA it could have kept on doing its job and we'd all be a little safer.

Okay I just went and looked at the anagram map again, and it turns out that I live at "Penile Anarchist" station.

...
...
...
...

BWAAH HA HA HAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!

February 12, 2006

Observation #1/

I am funnier when I am in misery

Observation #2/

Many of the people I know between the ages of 26 - 32 appear to be experiencing some kind of of adult adolesence. Like the, What am I doing here? Why is nothing fun anymore? How come I have zits on my arm? type shit. I include myself in this category wholeheartedly.

Observation #3/

Cats are good for you when you are irritable and sad. Dogs are just annoying.

Observation #4/

Stevie Nicks is very good for you when you are experiencing #1 and number #2 concommitantly

Observation #5/

It is not immediately apparent to my best friend that I am the poster child for the song "tears of clown" and thus deserve a decently rendered conceptual velvet paintng of myself portrayed as the songs heart-rending subject as a birthday present. I don't know why my *best friend * disagrees with this demand - she is blind to the obvious parallels between me and smokeys notorious sad clown I guess.

Observation #6/

The Winners valentines day mix features exclusively love songs like the Bryan Adams song from Robin Hood: prince of Thieves or "You're My Inspiration".

This means that when you are trying to find cheap #7's to replace your old favorite #7s that are getting a hole in the butt you have to just go in there like a mentally deficient emotionally damaged kamikaze wearing the pith helmet of irony and try really hard not to cry to that Celine Dion song from Titanic. Especially the part where she starts screaming "my heart will go on..." and you remember poor little Leonardos frozen fingers slipping from Kate Winsletts grasp as he sinks into the Atlantic ocean. Or that scene with the poor old couple spooning on the bed as it gets subsumed in water - eesh..

Observation #7/

There are other holidays that occur close to Valentines day. These holidays include st Paddys day and Easter. That being said, do *not* spend too long staring at st paddys day decorations trying to decide if leprauachauns are monogamous or libertine, and whether you should maybe buy a clover shaped candy dish as some kind of consumer protest to all the heart shaped candy dishes that are piled up around the check out stations. Also, absolutely do not buy a large automated leprauchaun that you call Leppy and bring him home under your arm singing it's just you and me baby, just you and me against the world.

Observation #9/

If you do bring the leprauchaun home, do not actually believe he will bring you luck. He will crack nuts in his jaw though, so he's good for something.

Observation #10/

Always remember when you feel this way to say I brought this on myself. I totally just brought this on myself. Then go buys some beers for you and Leppy and sit by the window trying to figure out what olympic event your neighbours are watching on their wide screen television.

Observation #11/

The best way to avoid doing neccesary and important work is to drag up really old heartbreak and try it on just to see if it still fits. When you find out it does, the hair shirt is really a bitch to take off again.

phewf.

I think I have officially entered that part of my life where as a word eccentricity doesn't quite do it justice.

Kicking my own ass never felt so good though.

February 11, 2006

So Ned sent me a link to this song possibly before I became blue.

I am less blue today (I told you I would be).

I figger he found it on said the gramaphone.

I have to go get my laundry. I hate depression. It takes the juice right out of life. The thought of warm clean pants doesn't even excite me today.

What is it to be strong - what does it mean? It certainly isn't telling the truth. I think it's shutting the fuck up and learning to be thankful for what you've got.

Oh if you want to hear more Regina Spektor it's here.

February 2, 2006

that spells shitty duck.

It's not actually pms this time because I managed to skip that part. It was like "do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars" over here.

Last night I wrote this awesome post about how I didn't get pms this month and it was really funny and wicked and then i accidentally emptied my cache while typing (baroo) and erased it and this morning I woke up with tears in my eyes and an invisible claw hammer in my belly, and was like uh-oh here we go.

Then I went to meet benoit and allison and wasted all my good blog humor on them and now I can't say a funny thing to save my life except that at some point during the day while re-linking broken french pages (over and over and over) I kind of lost my mind and started called benoit benzo... I don't think he cared, or by that point he was sufficiently frightened of me to pretend he didn't care.

After that bit of fun, I still didn't want to be alone with the simmering soup of my hormone infested soul so I went to school where lauren was also feeling cruddy and bought us both thai dinner. Except I thought lauren would want hers spicier and asked for it medium, forgetting that the little old lady cook at bangok has totally burned out her own taste buds without realizing it. So if you ask for anything medium when she's behind the wok you actually get something that tastes like sucking on a flaming coal coated in green curry.

Which is what I bought for Lauren, vegetarian styles.

Then I walked home and started crying to Veda Hille, when she sings "I want something I can't break / a stronger ceiling in a house when it rains."

I would have sung out loud in the park except there were already people singing *and* they were singing James Brown I feel good. The irony of the whole situation did not escape my notice.

Then I thought wouldn't it be great to live in a place where sing -offs were the rule? Yes like as in a musical. They could sing their insufferably happy James Brown and I would totally round-house song them with some sad cowboy junkies or something. No holds barred sad music.

Anyways I really wanted to write this about a quote from the 10 anniversary special edition of Bitch magazine. Which I did in fact buy while I did not in fact have PMS.

Here it ges more words to live by for 2006;

As far as I'm concerned, being any gender is a drag."

- Patti Smith in 1975

.. but especially being a girl who is having her period that's the suckingest gender to be. That's like - the suck. Although Patti Smith would never say that, she's way way to punk rock to admit she gets lame on her rag - she tells people to fuck off and die regardless.

Oh yeah, and on a completely unrelated note. I was talking to Ruth about her life up north.. And she was really stressed because the chickens had gotten too cold and angry due to a sudden shift in temperature, and they had started to attack each other. Apparently tense chickens turn into cannibals -watch out now! and you thought they were harmless dumb birds.. not so much.

Worse yet, do you know what stressed out chickens go for? Unike most animals, who go for the jugular (ie; Patrick Swayze in Roadhouse) when threatened, a chicken will peck another chickens anus until it dies.

GRODYPANTS BARFERAMA YUCK. I can't believe I eat an animal that attacks it's brethrens anus? Also, is that where the term "pain in my ass" comes from?

Cuz if so, I renounce it. From here on in you are all pains in my jugular.

January 27, 2006

I showed this to Lauren and she freaked right out.

So I thought I'd share.

I cut off all my hair right before I moved to mtl. I think it was because the long hair was adding to an already incredibly confusing gender/sexuality thing I was going through.

This photo is from when I was 18 years old and at my little brothers bar mitzvah. I wore a three peice suit.

I wish someone had something about the image I was projecting at the time. When I found this photo the other day I felt crazy sympathy for the confused queer 18 year old I was.

I remember having the idea to wear a suit and not some rotty dress and thinking I would be so attractive and stylish, more so than if I had worn a dress. But when I arrived at the event no-one said anything, and I think they were all kind of embarrassed.

My 28 year old self is saying to my 18 year old selfs ghost "hey guess what, you were hot... too bad it took 10 years for you to understand that.."

Look at me, what a mensch I look like a jewish gangster.

I can't believe how hard it was growing up. I wonder why I am thinking about all this stuff now?

ps; what makes me feel even weirder is that my body language in the photo is so male. Man.. I must have had such chutzpah to try and wear that, and then it was like this scandal..

It makes me kind of angry and sad actually.

So yeah - if anyone wants to know why I am growiwng my hair - it's because I want a little of the Jewish gangster courage back in my life.

January 26, 2006

There used to be this tv show called "Just like Mom" on Ontario television. It was a quiz /cooking show and kid/contestants had to demonstrate how well they new their mothers and the mothers how well they new their kids..

I watched it all the time. Mostly to laugh at the part where the kids had to make cookies without a recipe, and then the moms had to sample all the cookies and guess which one belong to their little mini-me.

Now that I think of it -- what a crazy bit of social programming.

Anyways, when I was 8 I used to sit in front of the tv thinking; "I would make such better cookies then those goons." And wishing I could be on the show and maybe win a trip to Disney. Or a montha t the summer camp with the rope swing into the water.

Except, and here's the kicker- I think I actually would have won on a different show called "Just like Dad". Where I and my dad would have been tested on how well we knew each other.

I only think of this because today for lunchfest I made myself a sandwich of liverwurst (meat you don't have to cook that you can spread with a knife yummy!) and a fried egg. I would have added a slice of cheese had there been one present.

Once the sandwich (open face) was assembled I took a good long look at it and thought to myself - "Self, that is one disgusting sandwich - where in gods name did you learn to appreciate a heart attack on bread like that?"

And then I remembered my dad building his brown bread and liverwurst sandwich towers at the kitchen counter - and his fried ham and egg sandwich and thought;

Genetics is some crazy business.

January 21, 2006

Not en e- mocracy as in the internet

An emocracy as in an emotional-ocracy.

All my feelings sit in a wood panelled room in my brain and argue about who should get to take precedence.

Right now my incredibly giddy joyful feeling is arguing that I should take the dog out to the canal and run up and down and throw up my hands and sing or something.

But then my ambitious practical feeling is saying - "You only have the good fortune if you do the work associated with all the kudos (real and imagined ) you think you are about to recieve."

And then the lazy self -destructive feeling is saying why not just go and lie down for a bit and find something to feel sad about and worry, all this work and activity is really overwheming and scary and the best thing to do right now would be to let something slide so that people don't expect too much of you, so you can never disappoint them.

And then the part of me that likes to micro-manage is saying go and take a shower and then come back to the computer and write a steps-list.

and then the part of me that likes to panic is saying "YOU DON"T HAVE TIME FOR STEPS LIST WHY ARE YOU EVEN WRITING THIS YOU INNEFFICIENT BLABBER MOUTH?" The panicky feeling is generally shouting which gets annoying for the totality of the e-mocracy so the panicky feeling is the least effective of all the members of the house. Panicky is the Stockwell Day of my emotional arsenal, everything panic tries completely fucks up.

However right at this second panic is sort of carrrying the day...

January 14, 2006

This one is pretty over the top - but funny, especially the comment;

"I threw up a little inside my mouth.."

"Feminist Men": Oxymorons, or Simply Morons?

While I read it I remembered that to other people I am a hysterical pessimistic judging sarcastic asshole who never listens - so I/we should all go easy on each other.

But still it's funny.

Oh and here's my contribution;

How many feminist men does it take to change a light bulb?

None. They won't. Hey..It's not that they are lazy, they just don't want to disempower anyone.

January 9, 2006

My other cousin is applying at Concordia !!!

In her email she said; "guelph is white bread and i think i am more like that rye
bread that has a swirl of dark rye."

Which I am totally stealing, because if ever a week was like a a nice piece of rye bread with a swirl it was this.

I walked home from my now monthly appointment with the counsellor like a wet wiggling nerve ending and had to counsel myself firmly not to do an Axl Rose impression at the corner of Green and Maisonneuve.

Oddly enough reading about Irving Laytons funeral cheered me up. I thought to myself "Leonard Cohen's in town, maybe I should take a day off and go hang around outside the Zen centre trying to get a look at him." Instead I went to Laurens where Jerry told me he's already tried it last year - and it never worked.

While reading about Arial Sharons coma I found out there is this place called the Schlesinger Institute Which is a Halacha-based medical ethics institute.

An example of how the Midrash can be used to interpret present day medical emergencies is this: Brain death is classified as being when the processes of the limbic system (Which is a region located near the spinal column) cease to function. Since according to Jewish law someone who is decapitated is said to be *unquestionably * dead. Then someone who is brain dead can be said to be legally dead, even if other processes can be kept running by machine.

This of course is disputed by other Rabbis who argue that the heart is at the seat of Jewish life. So if the heart can be kept beating then life remains in the body.

Luckily if you are waffling over whether to bury your beheaded lover or to to hang on until their heart stops beating there is the IRP - International Response Project.

I am going to send an email and find out how the Schlesinger Institute views Jewish Melancholy (or the swirl of dark rye) Is it Genetic? Or is it Environmental.

I know a lot of aethiests who have Jewish blood and they certainly suffer from the JM, so I am certain it is genetic. That means,that when I walk home from my therapy and want to sing sad songs - it is not (as she says) that I enjoy my sadness, it's that I don't really have any other blueprint. My nerves are tuned for sadness.

I would love to give you some sort of indication that when I talk about sadness I am just making light of something, but it's not true. I am sad today. Several things are making me feel sad. It's not the kind of sadness that has no end or offers no hope, it's the kind that is rooted in past dissapointments and present day hopes and fears. It's the worst kind of sadness because at the very very root lies something that could make me happy if I could find out how to stop letting it make me so sad.

January 8, 2006

I did not work 10 hours a day, this week.

I know you are all shocked.

That's okay. Because I did file my 2004 taxes and I did.. What else did I do?.. uh file my taxes, no I said that. Oh, I did send off a pathetically short entry for the She's Such a Geek compilation.

Next week, with the exception of Tuesday, which is full of meetings, I will work um 8 hours a day. Like a normal person would.

Tuesday I am starting a mini start your own business course at YES, which I worry will not be as helpful as a; "find yourself a russian bride stat." workshop could be, but is intended to help me maximize my time and my efficiency.

I think all it would really take is less alchohol - but if I want to fool myself into thinking I need a business course, it's my own damn money isn't it.

Why does the dog follow me around the apartment ALL THE TIME. She is standing right next to me whining high up in her throat because I didn't drag her bed into the computer room and she feels NEGLECTED. Forget it dog I am going to take a bath in 4 minutes.

Why do the ladies at the laundramat always tell me when I have left my clothes in the dryer for too long. There were like 9 other dryers free it wasn't like anyone was desperately waiting for my dryer. Nevertheless the little old women who guard the wash n' go have to tell me "Ta laissez tes vetement dans le secheur trop long" I'll decide when's too long okay.. - and btw why are all you laundromat ladies so short. DO you crawl into the dryers to delint them or something? Is midgitude a requirment of the profession?

Last minute resolution.(largely based on a re-read of the above contents);

No more back to back nights spent at watering holes on the Plateau. I can't afford it, and more to the point the next day I feel like a sea sponge that slept in a gin-bath.

Goodnight moon.

Mk leaves Tuesday, but our second last night together is a wash-out because I am a total hurtbag. When she goes I will get the orange couch-boat back, but there will be a giant empty place in my heart (and no more free cigs).

December 21, 2005

Oooh..one of my bosses just signed into messenger, marry christmas to you too.

Wait what am I doing online.....

Oh yeah, I bought some flannel cowgirl pyjamas and I put them on when I got home to wrap presents and was galloping around the apartment yelling yee-fuckin-hell-haw motherfuckers, when I realized, cowgirls don't wear pyjamas dummy, they sleep nekkid except fer their holsters.

Oh well, I got dork pyjamas.

Also why can't I wrap presents? I had the whole set up going on; tape, scissors, fancy ribbon. The wrapping paper was plain and cheap but I thought the ribbons would make up for it. I even got tiny little christmas stamps for decorating.

As if. Everything looks like it was wrapped in a mixture of dog-hair, cat-hair and rug lint. I used to be crafty what happened?

December 14, 2005

That's right.

But I 've decided I'm totally cool with it.

I should really be writing this mental health action in my paper journal but pens are so - late nineties style.

Anyways I had this revelation today while talking on the phone with a dear friend. I realized I judge my own emotional health/strength against hers. Like if she sounds better than me at coping with the curve balls of life while I'm like a rookie at bat who's taking a bunch of fastballs to the shin. Well obviously that's cuz I suck right?

No, no more. I am going to stop doing that today. But not by faking some sort of stoicism in the face of my emotional realities. I have already written at length about the difference between being strong and faking strong. I think it's time to achieve some sort of resolution.

I am not strong, not in the ways I often would like to be. Not in the ways where I get over things. Not in the way where I can keep my feelings to myself (obviously). It's too bad, because those are traits I admire in my friends.

But maybe I am strong in other ways, and I need to stop blaming myself for feeling like a jellyfish in sea of spiny urchins.

This doesn't make the feelings feel better all the time, but maybe I can stop holding myself up to yet another set of principals to be a failure at.

Being a jellyfish is kind of neat- I get to cry at sad songs and laugh too loud at bad jokes, and feel the knife when I watch somebody getting stabbed on tv.

Being an urchin would be neat too, I would have clear and spiky boundaries, and I could probably turn some feelings off at will.

We'll sea, (ha ha that's one of those bad jokes - eh) maybe on day I can buy myself an urchin coat or take some urchin lessons.

Fellow Jellyfish I am up for making a support group - I don't know, we can cut cardboard spines out of old refrigerator boxes and decorate them with sparkles and pictures of superheroes, it'll be largely a symbolic gesture but what the heck - kinda fun I bet.

Okay maybe I am not cool with it yet. But I will be one day, I can feel it.

This is dedicated to my mother who had a giant cardboard spine hidden somewhere in her apartment and to my dad who is a champion at applying the sparkles to his.

December 9, 2005

I was reading a blog I should never read for my own mental health and I found link to a blog about called Overexitable;

Blogs stated intention:

...reduce prejudice against gifted/high IQ people by daily exposure to one such individual. Humble aim: stop annoying family and friends.

Since I have already annoyed a couple of friends with pointless phone calls, I'll just take this to the world at large.

I have a question for the author of Overexitable.

What about when gifted people get PMS? What to do except crawl into bed put the covers over the head and ignore every clamourous intention to self critique because that's what I do while in this state of mind.

Is PMS worse for smart girls? or is it because I am at the age where my body is of the opinion that I ought to be pregnant and not bleeding. Is it louder more virulent or have I turned into a wimp in the face of my own hormones.

I know this is a shitty topic to post about no one wants to hear about PMS. But I am so frustrated that I can't manage my own emotion 5 days out of every month.

I kind of think it would be appropriate if I were to separate from the normal flow of life on these days. If I am going to be reflective and moody I might as well give myself the time to do that in a warm bath with a journal. Instead I force myself to think competitively about deadlines and workflows. My body is just a horse my brain rides to get to the destination.

Only apparently my brain is not the best equestrian.

Okay since the real world isn't going to follow the lunar calendar I need to go make some chamomile tea and get my shit together.

Solutions

So I just got off the phone with Lainie, and we decided that the obvious answer to the working with PMS issue is to scrap the idea of the four day work week, and replace it with a 26 day work-month. This would mean working it doesn't matter how many days a week for the first 22 -26 days of a cycle and then taking the days you need off, to follow your cranky little egg machines cycle.

Luckily I work independently so I am not going to have to go talk to my union rep about this or anything. I just need to start figuring out my cycle in advance so I can make the appropriate adjustments to my calendar.

Coming up another post about uterii....

June 17, 2005

"Speaking up about her feelings, no problem at all for Jesse at eight, and of some concern for her at nine, is now, at eleven, the basis for real trepidition. If a girl doesn't like another girl, Jesse says, she "should pretend that [she] likes her." The source of this new fear is the "perfect girl" - the girl who has no bad thoughts or feelings, the kind of person everyone wants to be with; the girl who in her perfection, is worthy of real praise and attention, worthy of inclusion and love. Jesse describes her as the girl who is "so good in math."She is the girl who speaks quietly, calmly, who is always nice and kind, never mean or bossy. The girl Jesse implies, she wishes she could say she hates. And sometimes Jesse says, "your attitude just goes bonkers because you are really jealous of [her]."

from: telling her life self-authorization as a form of resistance, by Lyn Mikel Brown

Literary examples;

Susan Swann - Wives of Bath

Margaret Atwood - Cats eye