This new laptop I have acquired is very quirky. It decides when it wants to play movies (the other night it kept playing Bubba Ho-tep over and over again....which I didn't really mind) and it also decides when it will list my most recent music listening habits on which ever web page I am on. Maybe I just haven't gotten butch enough with it.

In the middle of starting this entry, I started talking to my youngest sister on Msn. We talk about boys, and how stupid they are. That of course, is my mature 31 year old self talking. No shit.

We talk about feelings we get sometimes when we meet someone who is so alike ourselves. Then waste away in our bedrooms, or cars listening to sad-assed chick music because it's love of the unrequited variety (I was never too good with returning phone calls). I just listen to sad-assed chick music and smoke too many cigarettes by my bedroom window, now.

Finally got a hold of Craig tonight. Had a quick little chat before dinner. He says funny stuff like: In honour of you, I will eat this Sour Jelly Belly.
I say: Why? Because you think I have a Jelly belly?

I can't help it, the stuff just pops out of my mouth sometimes. I tell him I am thinking about moving to New York a little sooner than I had originally planned. He says: Oh Man, you are SO New York.
Then I say: Why? Because I am neurotic and crazy?

Heh.

I had a late evening drive out to my favourite cigarette store, the sky the colour of molten rock and I wanted to stop and photograph. But I didn't. I just kept driving. Maybe I need to spend more time on the sidewalk.

I remember you. I thought I saw you in the supermarket, so I turned away and pretended to be interested in butternut squash, then made a hasty exit through the nearest checkout line. I'm just too afraid to know you, again.

Time for bed. Job interview tomorrow, and I need to do something with my wild red hair for an hour before slipping into the car and making the drive.

Night, comrades.

This past summer, I've locked my keys in the car. Twice, some kindly stranger saw me struggling and perhaps taking a gander at my large arms, decided to stick their decidedly skinnier arms in through the open window to take a swipe at my keys. The keys would be either dangling from the ignition, or on the passenger side seat.

The other night, I locked them in the car, because I was distracted by my cigarette and the music playing. But really, I may be just saying that because I have no other reason. My mind is constantly elsewhere, and when I am fully 'present' I am still unable to articulate words to questions.

For instance, this afternoon in yet another job interview, I was asked what my idea of Feminism is. Suddenly, I'm at a loss for words to describe this HUGE thing. To me, it's huge, maybe it's even unexplainable because of all the different levels and meanings and ways to subscribe to Feminism. So, that's what I say. Then I say that I think of Feminism as humanistic, that there shouldn't be any assigned roles in Society (meanwhile I'm asking myself in my head, if that's actually true). Then I realise that sounds so familiar, and am able to remember Gloria Steinam's speech from all those years ago....all this while blabbing on about how I can *possibly* practice Social Work from a Feminist standpoint. Which is probably untrue, as I have this thing where I see both sides of every story, no matter what. Which then leads me to sit on the fence on most important issues because I can't make a decision either way.

Don't get me wrong, this entry is not about feminism although it's certainly a good subject to discuss. But damn, if I couldn't answer that question without sounding like some fruit fly off the street that didn't spend four (4!!) years studying Social Work.

Arg.

I can't write love songs on these things....
I know what it is. It's the events of the past 6 months that have taken siege over my brain cells and turned them into moosh. I used to be absent-minded...now I think, I'm just plain absent.

So, I keep losing my keys. I forget what I'm talking about in the middle of a sentence. I also forget that I was going to take Buckley for a walk, 4 hours past dark. My sister is constantly reminding me that Matthew Good will be in London in about 2 weeks (I keep thinking the show is about 4 months away, because that's how everything feels....about 4 months away).

Also, my younger sister who just started University, I am on the phone with her and I know we used to have good, laughing conversations filled with jokes, insider information and what ever else...but now I'm just kind of quiet. I can't think of anything funny to say.

Nothing to be done about it, unless there is such a thing as mental exercises, which sound like too much work. So, I will just wait patiently for the time when I will be just plain distracted as opposed to 'all the lights are on but no one is home' sort of gal.

Oh, let me know if I've forgotten to mention anything.

Hospital Music song (I forget which!) - Matthew Good.

Labels: bipolar, family, forgetfullness, forgot, theory, work

I should be crying but I just can't let it show...
I thought it would be impossible to sleep in my apartment tonight. It's some kind of record breaking temperature today that carried over into this evening. I sat in the hospital sweating and waiting in the waiting room for my sister who has suffered a serious loss of her own. All I do is nod and say yes or no when asked who I am.

I know you have a lot of strength left...
I listen to her. I don't try to tell her it will be better. I usually hate it when someone tells me it is not the end of the world because of one 'setback'. I just listen. I'm little good for anything else since I've not had felt that kind of sorrow before.

I also feel it's the least I can do since she spent so much of her time in hospital while I was unconscious and incoherent in a hospital bed, wishing for the end of days. My wishes are never answered.

In any event, I feel sad driving home and songs come on that I listen to and they resonate with everything that's happened. Such a common occurrence is not something that makes it feel better for her.

And with this, I wonder...when it will get better for all of us. When will life just give us a break. Why can't we have it easy for awhile....

I don't know.


This Woman's Work - Kate Bush

Labels: bipolar, family, miscarriage, sorrow, witness

you with the sad eyes...
I can't be witty today.

Rough day with my nephews, begging me to drive by their mother's house. Too many questions, the asnwers too big for their little ears.

I need a drink.
Better medication.
Less heart.
More coffee.
Being underwater.
Too burnt to try flying.

The flashlight is missing in action. I think it's on tour, slowly going across the nation like a beacon. No, I think 'beacon' is the wrong word, because I gain no comfort from who has it. People need to take care of themselves, is how I put it. It's so true. I never want to be a Gish that broke the camel's back again. It's the worst kind of guilt. Ahhh, the things that live in my head.

Anyway, I had to say that because it was in my head. Playing around with my nephew today in the backyard, he's attached at the hip with my mother whom he calls Nokomi (grandmother in Ojibwe) and we were laughing at his attempts at speech.

At the title 'suggests', I am sad that I wasn't able to go see Ryan Adams in Toronto tonight. He's playing at Massey Hall (amazing venue) and well, there is no one I would rather see at the moment. Hear those words, that music with my own ears. His mouth to my ears. magic, maybe.

Meanwhile, I'm ready to cut my hair and wear a rebel beret, not really sure what the cause is yet. Maybe I could practice being a seed activist. I would have to move: London is very conservative. However, that won't stop me from voting for the Green Party.

Yeah, yeah....I know.
Nightie.

Nobody Girl - Ryan Adams

Labels: Gish, nephews, Ryan Adams, song

Work, I need to work. At least the kind that brings in money so I don't starve to death (tell that to the two flat bread things I ate for dinner). I stared at job adverts all day, sent out a few resumes and now I'm concentrating on setting a healthy example of a full night's rest for my lovely little dog, Buckley. Of course, he's currently in the bathroom, trying to cool down on the floor.

Thinking about social responsibility. How we all conveniently forget that we shop at the Gap, or Old Navy (where most of the stuff is made in Malaysia, I think) and Wal-mart where half of their stuff is made in China. Clothes, strictly speaking.

One thing that bothers me the most is my beautiful camera was made in Malaysia. I hope who made it, got paid half decently for it.

Came across some acting jobs (who knows what I google when I'm bored). Briefly wondered if I could be an actor, thought not as only character I can play is me. And even then might be pretty bad, depending on the day.

Crazy thoughts, trying to think of a place where I could buy Fair Trade tea and clothing. GAH!!

Just a quick little note to the wonder space before I watch Return of the Jedi and fall asleep with my glasses on (not wanting to miss a thing, of course).

At my sister's behest, I went and spent the majority of my awake time with my nephew and my sister. It's for a powerful and unknown reason (who says I can't be cryptic) and we needed to just hang out together today.

This summer it seems, has strengthened our relationship, as well as tested it. I won't bother rehashing my illness, I'll just say that it seemed to surprise me that we both have come and picked up the slack when the other needed it the most.

I don't know where I'm going with this. Maybe I'm just trying to send it out there and leave it at that. Of Course, I'm the one that has my pants on my head.


In closing, I would like to say that I've absorbed a penchant to listening to ancient Bruce Springsteen songs at night, and Carly Simon stuff while drinking coffee in the car, driving past fields, ready for a winter's sleep. Cyndi Lauper is saved for home, while Roch Voisine is in the car on my way to somewhere special.

Funny how those old things pop up again out of nowhere.
Aloha.

I was central. I had control. I lost my head.
Dvd's scattered all over my bed, things I've watched over the past week. I usually fall asleep with something playing, my glasses still on. A pharmaceutical lullaby.

3 or 4 years ago, I was intent on achieving and owning anything and everything I thought I wanted. I bought a house, had a steady and reliable social work-esqe kind of job, some family in the same town I lived in. A stereo system, surround sound blah blah blah. I even rejoiced in buying a hammock for my backyard, where I planned to lay in whilst looking at the cherry tree blossoms floating around me.

Instead, I spent all available time working because I thought that made me a better worker. That led to not my being able to spend any time in the house I lovingly chose out of 4 others. Very little to no time with my family. Leaving the house and coming home when it was dark in all seasons, which meant I had a frozen pizza to eat for dinner while I watched dvd tv, I think it was Millennium at the time. When the Cherry trees did bloom, I managed only a few hours stolen to lie in the hammock reading Hawksley Workman's poetry and talking on the phone. I spent my vacations waiting for the time to come when I could go back to work.

Then I became progressively more sick as time went on.

It's crazy what you coulda had...
Now, having given up or lost every material object I used to hold dear to me, I have this strange and dubious sense of clarity. It's almost like any veil, or pair of sunglasses, blinders I used to fashion for myself have been lost and I feel like doing things that are way beyond any scope of social work or the bare necessities of living that I had ever thought possible.

And I am able to take photographs that remind me of those that are in my life forever. A photograph of my youngest sister and my youngest nephew dancing to invisible music. It's so crazy what I could have had....



Country Feedback - R.E.M

Labels: bipolar, family, Gish, habits, hawksley workman, how not to be an idiot, inspiration, neurotic, photographs, photography, work, writing

God is speaking to Peter about how he's exhausted and would *love* to have some rest. Peter suggests the moon, God says no...there isn't any atmosphere. God says he wants to rest for a bit in a wonderful place. Then Peter suggests Earth. God says, "I went there over 2000 years ago and met a wonderful little jewish girl.....and they are STILL talking about it!!"
(not my joke, just something I heard tonight).

I've been wearing contact lenses for the better part of 5 years now. I occasionally wore my glasses, but for only short periods of time and very far in between. I decided the other day to give my eyeballs a rest and wear glasses for a few weeks. They make me look stern, my sister thinks I look 'smart'. Either way, they are the first things that I grab in the morning.

However, my first thoughts are usually: Oh my god, I'm going blind!
Then I remember the glasses. Everything looks so diminished behind my lenses.

You're wondering if I'm ok...
The nights are cool now, and I relish the breeze that floats in through the windows. Anything to stimulate my skin. Hot water. Buckley's fur, when he's rolling around in my arms like a wriggling fish. Beebeese's fur beneath my fingertips, she feels like a mink resting on the windowsill.

I had big plans for an entry about my efforts to spruce up the shitty little apartment I've rented for considerably less money than I used to pay for my great apartment last winter. So this showerhead I had before (which I have brought with me) is not like a turbo water blaster or anything, it's like a rain fall, which I adore. I can feel like I'm in a rainstorm everytime I shower.

But perhaps it is not to be in this place. My continued efforts to remove the pipe coming out of the wall remain unfullfilled, despite trying a multitude of wrenches, pliers, a hammer and a knife at one point. It could be that I am too weak to do it. I don't mind admitting I have no physical strength.

result: the superintendant is sending a plumber tomorrow. Phew.


Time After Time - Cyndi Lauper

Labels: God, home improvement, how not to be an idiot

ok, I'm by no means an expert on Star Wars and the culture it has amassed since the 4th movie was released back in '78 (I think) but I do know that I have an issue with the whole balance take on the part of the Jedi in Revenge of the Sith.

Why so hell bent on killing all of the Sith? In order to have a balance, there has to be equally good and bad. Duh. Not that the Sith are any better.

Don't get me wrong, I saw every movie in the theatre (as though that makes a difference, if only to prove how freaking old I am) and had a Princess Lia (sp) doll when I was a kid (way back in '79).

And Obi-wan Kenobi needs to stop crying at Anakin about being the Chosen One. He was...just not in the sense they had presumed.

Labels: drama, theory, we all lose in the end, writing

Waking up this morning to my cell phone screaming it's sound for text messages. I had put a Matthew Good ring tone on it to let me know when email came in...you know, just in case I was getting a super sized, time sensitive secret document from Viagra Super Plus store.

I don't know of such a place, of course.

I used to like that ring tone, but it's wearing on me now. I'll probably change it to my old Johnny Cash that I had used for the past 3 years. Sick, I know. But I don't really care about that either, at the moment.

So, awake. Sort of. The movie I fell asleep watching still on, ah the miracle of the 'loop' option. It used to be music that I slept to, but it's been not so the past few months, running around trying to pick up the loose parts of my mind. That in itself not a project nearly finished by any means.

Here I am, hours and hours later, having read all of the morning papers (in one article, my previous doctor gave up his license to practice medicine *anywhere, ever again* for crimes such as narcotics prescriptions, sexual abuse of patients, etc). I can't say I'm surprised, although he was never more than he had to be, when I was seeing him. Mind you, I never needed narcotics, either.

I suppose I should be grateful, to have a place half decent to wake up in, ring tones, cell phones, movies, and doctors that don't try to feel me up when he's dispensing standard medical procedure to all my known parts.

Which is it, thankful or dubious?
I'll decide when I wake up tomorrow.

Labels: cell phone, doctor, layers, neurotic, we all lose in the end, writing

A live with a new laptop, at last. I'm not altogether too sure about the bonding process as there seems to be little quirks this laptop likes to through in at inopportune times. Maybe it's the brand, or the way I'm pushing it around so that it can resemble at least partly my old laptop.

Just dreams. Wishes.


That's Buckley, he's more interested in the ground these days. I don't really know if I have the heart to drag him to New York. All thoughts of Columbia are on the back burner for the time being. I'm half thinking of heading down that way within the next few months. Early, very early.

Or maybe Ireland. I know what it is. I just want to run away from whatever has it's hold on me here. The friends I thought I could count on have troubles of their own and I can't waste anymore of their times with telephone calls and emails.

Dinner with my sister today. We both left halfway through the meal. I'm considered rude and defensive. I think that some things should be left alone. There is no win-win here. It's like we're back to where we were before I had any kind of breakdown.

I knew it. True colours always bleed through, no matter who you think the person is.

Labels: depression, dinner, family, melancholy, New York, run, running