I was going to whine another entry out around how I was feeling today (not great but all in all not freaking terrible either) and how I am surrounded by a bunch of sucky ass psuedo social workers that have no clue how their practice is supposed to be the result of a shit load of theory you are supposed to have learned in your undergrad career.

But instead, go read this thread....it's always so fascinating to me when people get really zealous regarding international politics.

http://www.matthewgood.org/2007/05/open-thread-the-chavez-debate/

No wonder there are witch hunts and burning crosses littering half of this continents' history.

sanctuary
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

I haven't had anywhere that I would particularly like to be. Not for a long while. No place to rest my head and feel that I was ok, normal, loved and most importantly, safe. This past year has meant a lot of changes for me. The first, obviously moving to this new writing space. Which I am still not sure I will maintain, future food for thought.

When I lost it, my mind I mean. I never thought I would have any kind of meaningful support other than an imaginary kindly old nurse that would pat my knee reassuringly while I was being fitted for the straight jacket. I know that in myself, in my speech and some beliefs I have, I perpetuate the old myths of mental health. I know this, it's not intentional, at the same time it's not something I can see changing any time soon.

Given the events of this past week, I now know a few more things. That when you check into emergency by sliding a note stating "I'm going to kill myself" across to the receptionist behind the bullet proof glass partition, they whisk you away only to make you wait in a chair next to a drunk throwing up what seemed like gallons of red wine two seats over.

From then on it was completely "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest". You can all cheer and think it was a great thing when the indian guy broke the water fountain and walked away from the institution, but shit like that doesn't really happen. Instead, I was held in a room painted blue, they told me to put on the gown, I declined until further notice. I hadn't yet seen a doctor. The door, I remember, had a round fishbowl-like window in it, and they locked from the outside.

I lay down on the gurney, wrapped a sheet around myself and tried to be as small as possible until the ordeal was over. This is the latest in events that have been my effort to seek help for the severe depression I've been suffering.

I hear things like 'bi-polar', 'crazy', 'she's just one of those that are never happy people'. In ways I can't even explain, moods come over me and I'm helpless to stop or manage the emotions. It feels like I'm crazy, so I often refer to myself as such. It could be a lie, who really knows.

My family is angry and hurt that I didn't reach out to them for help. But even if I had, I wouldn't have had the words to tell them what's wrong.

I still don't.

Until then, I'm floating on a very thin carpet. I eat icy green grapes for dinner and pet Buckley whilst reading old Margaret Atwood books in the hope I make it through another night in my sanctuary.

Labels: cry, depression, how not to be an idiot, insomnia, layers, lockdown, lorazepam, Matthew Good, melancholy, neurotic, pharmacology, Sylvia Plath, writing, zopiclone

I smoke cigarettes by my new perch at the window. I installed a sliding screen in order to let in some fresh air. I also read from the weather report that it was supposed to rain last night, and I wanted to be sleeping next to that sound of water hitting the ground.

Now, of course, Buckley and Beebs hang out on the window sill as much as possible thus I have to often jockey amongst them in order to have a place to smoke. I can lay on the pillows and feel the breeze from outside on my face. This makes the mood shift a little. Then the other things fighting for attention in my brain crowd out the nice stuff and I'm back to trying to figure out my life.

I'm convinced that the doctor's (save for my family doctor) here in town are out to lunch. No one is listening to me. The only people that are listening is some guy in Vancouver (you know who you are), my friend Rose and my doctor. But all of them are limited in what they can do.

I guess that is what it comes down to in the end. Our own limitations.

I am a married man magnet.

I hate them, I hate when they don't wear their ring, I hate when they are smarmy, and I definitely hate being the girl they think they can just fuck around with behind their beloveds back.

ugh.

It seems surprising to me how real those little men in white coats can be. I mean, I haven't been around any of them, but the possibility that they truly exist....surprises me. Same thing with hospital pj's and bland food.

My laptop is slowly dying. Everytime it is booted up, it tells me that there is a fatal error and a hard disk failure is imminent. I've tried to back some things up like photographs, and art, and attempted with the music as well...but there is just so much crap I've accumulated in the past year that I don't even know where to start. Music folder, obviously...but being so large, it kinda scares me.

Doesn't take much to rattle me, lately. Like hour long phone calls with rock stars, which I am almost certain I imagined. The real world and the one I dream about when I fall into a fitfull sleep are very similar. Which is a real rip off, as far as I'm concerned....dreams are supposed to be wishes, not like real life, dammit.

I can't face the morning newspapers right now. I ignore the television and reread novels that I've had in my possession for over 10 years. I put my stack of Calvin n' Hobbes books on the end table so I can see them, which in turn reminds me that I need to reread them, as well.

Sleeping long hours on 1000 thread count cotton sheets with a fan pointed in my direction. Buckley barking at the fireworks people insist on setting off (Do they even know what they are celebrating??? No, of course not).

Trying to, as advised, relax and take things one hour at a time.

I've just noticed that I have a lot of movies from the 80's in my meager collection.
But I can't find my copy of Pride and Prejudice. I guess I am lonely for Mr. Darcy.

Reruns of Six Feet Under, The Ice Harvest and fevered hours staring at the Documentary channel have been how I've passed the time. Tried to back up my system a few times, but apparently it's idiot-proof, I can't figure it out.

A really long hot shower, and the guy who lives upstairs thumping on the floor because my music was too loud. I may complain here about his penchant for Shania Twain at 2 in the morning during the week, but never have I thumped on my ceiling for the volume let alone for his bad taste. I left it on. Let him call the police on a sunday afternoon on May-long weekend.

No matter what I do, I can't shake the bad taste friday night emails have left in my mouth, it's my own ego that won't stop telling me what a moron move it was.
Wish I had some ativan left.

Labels: lorazepam, neighbours, neurotic

I have a terrible memory. I try to remember things; I make lists, I write things down in my day book, I have constant reminders around to...remind me of what to do. This could be a character flaw in that I am too damn lazy to make an effort to remember things. Or it could be that my brain is sometimes on the lam, in that area of functioning.

Regardless, this brings me around to the point of my day. In some instances, I am reminded that other people's egos are extremely fragile. I am reminded by someone's words to me, how unprofessional and just plain 'mean' some people can be.

And it never ceases to amaze me. I'm all for advocating world peace, however I love it when things click on a micro level in that people in each other's environments (as opposed to the larger scale of the world) are kind if not respectful to others.

I mean, if we can't get along in an office....then it's really no wonder why we're constantly raising arms against each other on a global scale. Call it what you will....but can't we just fucking get along for a change?

It could be that my social worky side is showing. But I don't see this as a touchy feely kind of discussion. I see it as something that is entirely possible. To have peace with each other in our own environments.

Done and done. Next: world hunger.
*grin*

*Fearless
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

As I approach my 31st birthday, I wish for the kind of self confidence that Meg Ryan has in In The Cut. That shameless 'this is the kind of girl I am' sort of way that she moves around. If I were any kind of fan, I'd be watching the movie right now but it's actually bed time for me and thus, I am sitting amidst fire engine red bedsheets and contemplating a photograph of myself from a few months ago.

I can't help it, though. I know I'll never have the arms of a 25 year old model, or the legs of a racehorse, or the flat belly of .7% of the population. Instead, I'm forced to refer to myself as 'rubenesque' much in the way John Cusack refers to, as in the 'fuller figured' end of the spectrum. That's me. On the end of that spectrum.

But what escapes me, is the common sense that I'm not going to morph into a sylph-like figure with perfect proportions and my sense of humour. The body I have, is the one I'll take my last breath in, and somewhere deep down, I just have to say 'alrighty then'.

I hate that phrase. But do you see what I'm trying to say? No amount of listening to Ryan Adams with endless glasses of red wine are going to make me into anyone other than who I already am. The mold has been cast. Gish baby, this is it.

Now, I just have to write that on my bathroom mirror and everything will be 'alrighty then'.
Love,
Gish

broken house
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

Dear Chicago,
It's difficult for me to get 'over' the stupid little things like breathing and opening your eyes. I had a long sleep this evening, but it didn't put me in a better frame of mind.

In my dreams, I was wearing a cobalt blue dress that dragged behind me when I tried to climb fences to get away. Like a circus, nearly everyone from my current and past life coexisted seamlessly in the place where I grew up.

I didn't see you, though. Not even in the made-for-tv section of my dream where I played real life video games for my life. I thought for sure you'd be in the audience, booing.

Things are getting lost in our secret translations, and I'm both too powerless and apathetic to stop it. Like a bad movie, it keeps going. You want it to be over but the ride keeps going, and you're strapped in, no matter what.

I wish I knew where it was going. I wish I had someone to consult with on a daily basis of my merit, but you're where you are and I'm where I am.

I'll spray paint this on one of your sidewalks, hoping you'll see it and know what it means.
Love,
Gish

Out Now
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

I'm not a positive person. In that I don't look for silver linings, or rainbows, or expect the best from people. This hinders me in some areas, however it also saves me the crushing disappointment I may suffer as the result of someone's lack of....follow through, if that makes sense.

I've been on the Lam for quite awhile, ignoring both Flickr and my journal, as though they are simply more places I need to report to. But today, the sun is out and it's warm on my skin. I ate an apple this morning during my commute and for some reason, things do feel like they are looking up.

I was applying for a new car, I had decided on a Ford Escape Hybrid, however due to financing issues it's not likely to happen at this point. And right now, I'm ok with it. Earlier this week, my electricity was cut off because my landlord failed to pay his bill. However, the deal was that I would have the bill in my name and make the payments. Genius-guy, however never closed off his account and thus, I was not able to set up my own. Then he just decides to not pay the bill at all, resulting in two nights by candlelight. And thawed groceries in the freezer that had been bought the day before.

I was livid. Now, I've paid the bill *for* him and deducted it from the rent, have the utility in my own name and things are running smoothly again (for the time being). But then my laptop decided to have a fatal error and while it was nice enough to give me time to TRY to get some documents from it (mostly music and my art), it is slowly coming to a stop. The good thing: it's still under warranty. The bad thing: potential loss of my entire music library, and it will take about 3 weeks for the company to ship me the repaired laptop.

I know, when it rains, it pours. Instead of sitting here and being a big baby, I have decided to go to the Island and surprise my mother for Mother's Day. It's a long trip and only over night, but I might as well do something lovely for her.

Work is still work, and I'm still doing it. Buckley was scheduled to meet with a trainer for his bad behaviours this weekend but that will be rescheduled. Unfortunately for him, his neuter surgery is scheduled for Tuesday. *grin* Poor guy.

In the meantime, I've misplaced Mrs. John Cusack (my iPod) and I have to go out and buy a bag I can pack with weekend essentials. I know, I'm the best of the drama bitches. There's more to it than this, I just can't seem to scratch the surface.

Labels: how not to be an idiot, late night, melancholy, music, relationships, work, writing

a wish before dying
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

A lack of sleep and the influx of prescription drugs has left my mind as mushy as a bowl of soft serve vanilla ice cream. Just not as tasty, I suppose.

My horoscope told me to to 'blog my feelings today'. I'm not sure how that is any different than any other day. I feel CRAPPY. I feel SICK. I cannot stop COUGHING.
There, done and done.

Yesterday, I felt well enough to grab some 10 dollar jeans at a local discount store. Of course, they are too big. But I don't have it in me to care. And they will be perfect for dog walking and other kinds of leisure activities I am supposed to be engaging in on the weekends.

I should also mention that I am trying to kill time until the second last Sopranos episode is on at 9, then I will really sink into the lower levels of consciousness with the help of Tylonel Cold and Flu Nightime formula. I'm hoping that it will help me sleep through the night without waking up to uncontrollable couching fits that last about half an hour, and still won't let me sleep afterwards.

I know, I know...If it weren't this, it would be something else. In any event, I have to go prepare my nest in the bedroom. So, aloha.

the border
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

Dear Chicago,

It seems that some of us live our lives, aspiring or thinking of....'one day'. I have to admit that I'm one of those people. It's not a an issue, but the problem with that is...I'm not really sure what I want my 'one day' to look like.

I talk about these things with my friends. They tell me (which I think is a huge injustice) that it's ok, everything will work out and I'll be happy with whatever I end up with. One of my biggest fears is that I will wake up 10 years from now with 3 kids, a dog, an SUV and wonder what the hell am I doing. I'm afraid that I'll hate my choices. Afraid of boredom, the sense of having settled, the sense of not doing or being all that I can be.

Scary, heavy stuff. But, what the hell. I'm nearly 31 years old. At some point, I will have to stop thinking and start doing. Sometimes, I just don't know where to start.

I cross borders and look for new things, carrying on my love affair of maps.

I wish I could believe that my future lies in wait with one who has walked your streets before. Maybe he was shopping, or working, or just loving the way your concrete meets the ground. But, I stopped believing in fairy tales and fantasies in my 20's. I know there are those who, unlike me, are nursing hurts and broken hearts. Such luck to have held it for that time, and such luck to have another chance to find it again. And so much thought and effort devoted to and building up of achieving a single emotion.

It's foolish. And inspiring.

Labels: drama, fools gold, habits, how not to be an idiot, inspiration, layers, melancholy, opinions, photographs, relationships, underwater, writing