| you know you're over-extended when your to-list includes "sleep" |
[Jun. 27th, 2008|10:02 am] |
Things I did not manage to get accomplished this week
The to-do list that was supposed to be finished by last weekend
Slug-proof my garden
See my girlfriend
Call my mother
Catch up on my email
Start my mix-tape
Cook snails
Clean off my desk
Run
Get enough sleep
Things I did manage to get accomplished this week
Remembered to take all the proper medications at the proper times in the proper amounts
Finish my first week of pushups
Fill the freezer
Get my resume in for new job
Renew the mortgage
Got 50% of the way through everything on the to-do list for last week
Clean the bedroom & bathroom enough to host Australians
Work a six-day week
Not fall asleep on my desk
Not hit Axel
Not hit anybody else
I've decided I'm designating August as an appointment-free month. No doctors, no specialists, no tests. If it falls off I'll just staple it back on until September. |
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| things I do not want |
[Apr. 10th, 2008|10:33 am] |
| [ | Tags | | | braaaains | ] |
| [ | mood |
| | beaten at the starting gate | ] |
What the fuck good is it to have the super power of being able to tell what's coming if you don't have the super power of being able to effect the outcome? |
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| The Haiti option |
[Nov. 9th, 2007|05:05 pm] |
Maybe I just won't go home. |
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| not dawn yet |
[Oct. 22nd, 2007|12:43 am] |
Follow-up to my previous post I'm not actually depressed right now. (at least I don't think I am) But my evil brain-sucking monsters are hanging about in my house eating my food and drinking all my beer and leaving the toilet seat up. They're acting all smug and shit. You know. Like the evil relationship that you are just about to kick to the curb only maybe you should give him/her one last chance, really he/she did say he/she was sorry.
I hate it when they are in the fucking house. Go live out on the railroad tracks where you belong, you bastards.
Things are not bad. Not bad at all. In fact I hazard to say that I have not small amounts of potential good looming over me. But what always happens when there is a chance that things might be turning up Siobhan is that the slimy things that live in my hind brain make themselves comfortable in my living room and start pointing out the less than stellar parts of my life. And they tell me how the Universe Works and how Good Things Never Happen To People Like Me and how I Am Just Kidding Myself. And they leave stains on the couch and blow their noses on the towels and I keep finding half-eaten souls in the fridge.
Fuckers.
Fortunately, they hate really loud punk rock.
So do the neighbours, but you gotta know when it's time to bring out the big guns. |
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| side-flanked |
[Oct. 21st, 2007|11:50 pm] |
When I was fighting my depression I read The Art of War. I thought I was being clever.
Unfortunately my depression read it too.
Cunt. |
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| i got the poison, i got the remedy |
[Sep. 13th, 2007|02:30 pm] |
This is me stressing about my meat stuffs again, so hit the downspace key right now if you're tired of it.
One of the instructions that seems to be pretty much universal for dealing with my acid reflux issue is to eat more frequent and much smaller meals. Which I've been trying to do, while working around the fact that the breaks at work aren't really long enough to do much more than grab a coffee and skate back up to my desk.
The problem with this is that to deal with my teeth issue I have to spend 10 minutes cleaning up my mouth every single time I eat or drink anything other than water, no exceptions. This has resulted me having oh, at minimum about an extra hour a day devoted specifically to the task of how I feed myself.
Add that to the fact that I'm trying to avoid grains this week as part of my "figure out how to make at least one of my physical problems just go the fuck away and stop pestering me" strategy and yesterday I didn't eat breakfast at all. I honestly just could not come up with one single thing that I wanted to eat badly enough to have to deal with doing all that scrubbing and flossing and rinsing afterwards.
As you could probably have predicted, physical issues are turning into enough of a resource hog that they are starting to leak heavily over into the realm of mental issues. This whole situation is twigging my eating disorder Stuff like you would Not. Fucking. Believe. And I'm not kidding, my main defense? My full-blown anorexia was in 1985-86, so I keep visualizing going back there by picturing myself in leg-warmers and headbands and teased bangs.
So what I am essentially communicating to you all is that the knowledge that a 45 year-old women would look like a complete 'tard in leg-warmers is the only thing that stands between me and bugfuck crazy.
This is one of those situations where I'm honestly not sure which is worse, the disease or the cure. |
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| an apology and an explanation |
[Sep. 7th, 2007|07:48 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | braaaains | ] |
| [ | mood |
| | maybe I'll just go get drunk. | ] |
First of all I apologize for worrying people.
I'm ok, really. I'm just - upset. And I really really hate crying in front of people. And it occurred to me to be rather wry about the fact that I never used to cry when bad things happened to me because I was so numb all the time I didn't feel much. So now that I'm (comparatively) mentally healthy I'm all over the place with the tears and I hate it.
I guess it's not something that translates well in a short LJ post, and I'm sorry for doing that to you.
Long story short, the stomach thing is driving me nuts, I have Axel pointing out to me that I have been getting more frequent and more debilitating migraines lately, I'm starting to get a little concerned about the fact that have been dizzy every day for the past three weeks - and then today I got told I have advanced periodontal disease and I'm going to lose all my teeth.
And that was just my last fucking spoon. |
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| the down side to mental health |
[Sep. 7th, 2007|05:14 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | braaaains | ] |
| [ | mood |
| | honestly? I've had better days | ] |
You know, the one advantage to being emotionally stunted and completely cut off from one's feelings is never having to break down in tears in a doctor's office. |
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| you will kill me young, and i will die pretty |
[Jul. 8th, 2007|12:54 am] |
I had a rough week both emotionally and physically. I came home from work today literally tipping over with exhaustion - I fell asleep on a busy crowded bus and almost missed my stop.
And now my house is full of people. I didn't really plan it that way, and it's loud, messy and chaotic.
Having a bunch of people I love - especially those who I don't see as often as I like (is there anybody I see as often as I would like) - reminds me that I am one wealthy motherfucker.
(And I (drunk) just told my daughter (drunk) my cock-or-walk story.)
Paris Hilton wishes she were me. |
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| just sayin' |
[Apr. 23rd, 2006|03:17 am] |
| [ | Tags | | | braaaains | ] |
| [ | mood |
| | eels in the hovercraft | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Boomstick: Custom Call | ] |
I have been convinced for some time that I am crazy. Eels in the bucket. Not right in the membrane. Completely batshit insane.
But today is the first time that I've really felt that this is going to work out to be okay. |
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| prickly-boat |
[Dec. 18th, 2005|12:36 pm] |
The icon is what I saw when I looked in the mirror this morning.
I made an offhand comment about making a happy post a couple of days ago. I've been trying to come up with one ever since and it's not been working so well for me.
Thing is, I'm not particularily unhappy. My house is warm. My partners are lovely. There are plans for a couple of trips[1] in the works. People are visiting[2] for New Years, and hopefully for Capricorn-fest.[3]
Mostly I am under assault by chemistry again. I am completely dependent on exercise for normal brain function and I am just not getting it because my back hurts all the damn time. Add that to hate-the-job-that-is-causing-me-pain stress, is-Workman's-Comp-going-to-cut-me-off worries, fuck-I-hate-Christmas blues, another-year-older-and-deeper-in-debt angst and mix in the arrival of my twice-yearly bout of kill-everybody PMS, and I've been feeding the quagmire pretty hard in the last couple of weeks.
So as a result I've been both weepy and cranky a lot lately. But oddly enough it doesn't feel like it's really affecting me all that much. I'm still functional, I still have fun hanging out with people, I'm getting just as much done. I moan about it for a while, or burst into tears at complete random - then I just kinda get back to normal life. It's like it's all on the surface and I'm sitting below it impatiently waiting for it to get out of my way.
It's all very odd.
So yeah. Haven't been feeling like posting much about life lately and that's the primary reason why.
I do plan on picking up ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) crazy_boat again. After Xmas.
[1] My favouritest thing ever.
[2] My second-favouritest thing ever.
[3] It turns out that meshu, 2ndaryairplane, elixxir, bellafiga and I are all born in January. Therefore, we are planning to drag everybody into the same room at the same time to drink copiously. Brace yourselves. |
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| denouement |
[Nov. 22nd, 2005|04:25 pm] |
Ah, self-loathing. Haven't seen you around these parts for a while.
Can't say I didn't expect you. You always were one for showing up when I'm at my most physically run down, when the party is over and there is nobody else here to catch you spreading your poison into the quiet.
Don't get comfortable. You won't be staying. |
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| meta-brains |
[Oct. 13th, 2005|05:07 pm] |
So I've decided that I'm going to write about my childhood (and beyond, if I get that far) for Nanowrimo.
I'm trying to decide if I should create a new LJ just for the story, or if I should just post occasional excerpts here.
What do you think? What do other people do?
I'll definitely be locking the stuff that might be erm, somewhat critical of or embarrassing to people not here to defend themselves. So anybody who is currently on my braaaains filter who doesn't want to be subjected to that, let me know and I'll create a seperate filter for those.
(I suspect most of the triggering material will fall into the category of squirmy-unpleasant rather than violent. but I'm still remembering stuff, so I no promises.)
EDIT: Looking at the original formation of my braaaains filter makes me realize just how totally different the posts turned out to be from what I was expecting - so if anybody else wants to be taken on or off, let me know. |
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| Lost in translation |
[Jul. 29th, 2005|07:06 pm] |
I've lost a month.
I'm not kidding. The record I use to keep track of my finances cuts off at the end of June. My scratch-pad, where I scribble all my "don't forget to" lists? It has a page with "July" written on the top, and nothing else. My wallet is empty of it's normal stack of receipts. Even my desk calendar is still on last month.
And I've just noticed this today.
It's possible that I stumbled onto a party of the Sidhe when travelling through the tangle of backyard that seperates my house from the composter, and during the revels one-twelfth of a drop of dew was allowed to pass across my lips. I've certainly been more spacey than usual. But the_axel hasn't assumed me dead and replaced me with another woman, so that doesn't fit with any of the stories my dad ever told me.
It's also possible that I was abducted by aliens and false memories of my presence were pasted onto my friends and co-workers. If this is in fact the case I would very much appreciate it if my alien captors could continue to paste said false memories onto the people who provide me with a paycheck, 'cause that would save me from having to deal with them. But my bum isn't sore, so I must regretfully assume that isn't the explanation either.
I think maybe I've just been sleepwalking.
For four weeks in a row. |
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| wrong place, wrong time |
[Jul. 20th, 2005|06:34 am] |
This isn't one of my funny stories. It's an incident I've been thinking a lot about for the last couple of days, and it makes me go WTF? so I decided to write it down.
When my sister and I were both teenagers (or so - I might have been 20) she was dating a guy who grew up in Uxbridge, a town about an hour north of Toronto. One weekend my sister, the boyfriend, her best friend and I went up there for a party.
The trip there was just one of our typical stupid roadtrip stories. We went up in the best friend's parents' station wagon, and she managed to lock the keys in the car while we were stopped in town for lunch. We spent 30 minutes trying to get a coat-hanger through the window so we could get the door open, during which time she revealed that she had no licence, insurance or ownership with her. While the boyfriend hid out in the restaurant because he had a warrent out for him. While we were parked across the street from the local police station.
But I digress.
So the point of all this is something that happened at the party itself. I had met the host once before, but everybody else was new to me. It was a typical party, everything seemed to be going pretty cool and I was having a good time. At one point I was playing some table-top game that involved knocking your opponent's discs off a polished surface - buggered if I can remember what it was called - and as well as the other players there were a bunch of people hanging around just shooting the shit.
During the game there was one guy there who was a part of the crowd but who never really spoke to me directly. He was just there, making loud jokes and drinking along with everybody else.
That was -- what, 22, 23 years ago? I still remember his name like it was yesterday. Ian MacDonald.
So the sister's boyfriend was somebody I got along with fairly well most of the time, but he was one of those guys who liked to poke at things that he knew would bug you. Stupid stuff usually, like jabbing you in the ribs until you yelled at him. We were always getting into these stupid sparring matches that usually end up with the two of us punching each other in the arm. It was never serious, just goofing around. Kid stuff.
I'm not sure how we got into it this particular time, but I remember we were on the carpet of the basement rec room. We might have been kneeling or something. We were definitely pushing each other. And we quit, and we both laughed and he got up and walked away, and I started to get up as well.
And something hit me from behind, and the next thing I knew I was upside down and being dumped onto my head.
I have no idea how long it lasted, but for some time that felt like forever, I was wrestling with this MacDonald guy. And he was hurting me, and I wanted him off. At one point he had me pinned to the ground on my back and I had managed to get a good grip on his ears and I was pounding the top of his head repeatedly into the television set just behind us - and that's when the guy who lived there came downstairs and pulled him off of me.
I don't remember what he did to me. I remember that was stiff and sore all over the next day. I remember that the waistband of my jeans were torn and I had to borrow safety pins from somebody.
And I remember that the party just went on like nothing had happened.
Later I asked the sister's boyfriend why he hadn't stepped in. And he said, "Well, I was going to. But then you were winning, so I sat down. And then you started losing, so I stood up. And then you started winning again, so I sat down."
When I talked to the host about it later, he told me he had come downstairs to find what he thought had been two guys beating the crap out of each other, and he had broken it up to protect his parents' house. He was shocked to see it was me.
He also told me the guy had been previously accused of rape by two separate women. This was common knowledge in town.
I wonder how much of peoples' normal reaction to a guy jumping a woman in public was short-curcuited by the pushing match I just had and how much by the fact I had fought back. I wonder if I had cried and yelled for help if people would have stepped in.
How much was just because the whole thing was just so fucking weird nobody knew what to do.
I heard later that he had gone around telling everybody that we had snuck off during the party and made with the wild monkey sex. For some reason that was the part of the whole incident that pissed me off the most. |
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| Waiting For Impact |
[Jun. 1st, 2005|12:28 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | braaaains | ] |
| [ | mood |
| | surface tension | ] |
| [ | music |
| | History of Guns: Break | ] |
I stumbled into work today with my shoes untied, my tshirt on backwards and my knapsack flapping open. I did make it on time though, which is better than I manage on most days.
Change is coming again. I can feel the pressure building up in the base of my skull. Whenever this happens I think of a watermelon seed, pressed tighter and tighter between thumb and forefinger, until the surface tension lets go and the seed is spit out into an unknown direction. Usually to thwack some poor slob in the eye.
The things I know can't be learned from books. |
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| braaaains |
[Mar. 29th, 2005|01:32 pm] |
Holy crap, you guys.
OK, so everybody who responded should be on my braaaains filter. I just posted something there, so wave if you don't see it and I'll check the settings. |
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| landscape of a mind |
[Mar. 28th, 2005|07:42 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | braaaains | ] |
| [ | mood |
| | is it time to go home yet? | ] |
I'm thinking about starting a mental health filter for my LJ.
Public talking about my brain chemistry will likely involve a lot of me pointing at my butt and saying, "Hey, kick this for me, wouldjah?" The f-locked talking will be that - plus a lot of body-image stuff. I find the two issues travel together for me like siamese twins. I know there are people on my f-list who are squicked by body/weight/gender/self-image stuff, or who have strong opinions of their own so don't necessarily want to read about mine.
So. This is completely opt-in. Say the word and I'll add you to the filter. |
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| note to self |
[Mar. 22nd, 2005|07:03 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | braaaains | ] |
| [ | mood |
| | insufficiently peppy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Superburst 11 | ] |
"If I knew then what I know now."
OK. So how about if you know now what you know now?
(This has been your daily pep talk. So go get pepped already.) |
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| Happiness is a warm gun |
[Mar. 8th, 2005|01:04 pm] |
Today I want to kill something.
On the one hand, it's kind of fascinating to watch the progression of my mental state as my endorphin dependancy kicks in. I could chart it if I wanted to; count the number of times I've thought about violence and plot it against days since I last worked my body to a hard sweat. I fantasise about taking blood samples and measuring serotonin levels, testosterone, the dance of chemistry as it plays my psyche like a piano. Wiring myself up to electrodes and watching my brainwaves as they respond to images of running, of hitting, of explosions, of zombies!
On the other hand, I just want to kill something. |
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