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This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

Part 2. Monday, November 26, 2007 |

beebs looking out at passing scenery.
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

That's my cat, Beebs. She's looking out of the van window on our way to the North. I felt bad for her as it feels as though I've dragged her all over the province. She was born on the island and I moved her to Ottawa with me. Then from Ottawa to Sudbury. Sudbury to London. London back to Sudbury. Then back to London again. This trip was from London to the Island. She's as well travelled as I am, in the province of Ontario at least.

I had more dreams last night. This time I was in Hong Kong and all I could think about was where to get some noodles. I was checking into a flash hotel with some cranky people behind me. We slid off of the plane as if we were on a snowy hill, sliding down with abandon. Hands up, red faces from the wind.

Then I was in my bed, the cat was sleeping on my right hand, Buckley off to my left foot and Marble under the covers as usual. The bed I sleep in now isn't mine, but it's so soft like a feather bed. I sleep well, when I do sleep.

Is it odd that the only things I packed when I came here are the dvds I've been collecting for a couple of years?

Is it even more odd that the only person I feel like I can talk to is a rock star? How did that happen? Where are all the friends that I used to talk to? Oh right. They were jettisoned when the going got rough. Oh, the things I do for what I think is sanity.

In any event, it's time to let the dogs roam the yard, which consists of 200 year old oak trees and a bunch of angry squirrels. Bob Dylan plays in the background, my current soundtrack.

Good afternoon, readers.


The North, part 1. Thursday, November 22, 2007 |

New Post.

I've been safely transported to the North of Ontario. I haven't unpacked anything other than to do laundry. Shortly, I will be leaving to see a new doctor since my old one doesn't think it's a good idea to attempt treatment 600 kilometres away. Silly doctor. Nervous about new doctor, but then these things have to be done.

Anything to stay even.

Am I even? I don't know. I fill my evenings with old episodes of Angel and sleep (when I can get it). My mother and stepfather try to fill my days with lists of chores and household work. Neither seem to be working. I was bored before I got here.

Maybe I just need to accept that I'm not supposed to have fun. That I'm just where I need to be. I fall asleep to old Matt Good or whatever is playing on my laptop.

It's not all bad. It started snowing last night. Silver pieces of frozen water that drifted to the ground and stayed where it fell. One centimetre worth. And the quiet. It's quiet here. I don't know if I like it, but there it is.

Also, Buckley loves it here. He gets to go outside 50 times a day and prance around in the snow. He gets to sniff out dead bats and play with Marble. And Marble. He sleeps under my covers every night, just like we used to.

Anyhow. It takes an hour to get anywhere around here. So I'd better get going.
I bought a wireless router but would you believe....I forgot it in London.
Yeah...I'm a smartie pants.

Friday, November 16, 2007 |

My older sister told me to put Vicks Vaporub on the soles of my feet, and then I will feel better. So I'm laying here with socks and greasy feet, Vicks on my chest, a cigarette burning to my right and American Beauty playing in the background.

I have a terrible cold/something that has me down for the count.

My bedroom window is still wide open (stuck open) and the landlord has stopped taking my calls. I suspect the cold and my cold are somehow related. My mother is on her way as I write this. She's coming to gather me in her arms, to take me back to my psuedo childhood home, where I will convalesce for a few months in order to find my head.

I listened to Weapon by Matt Good last night on repeat. I missed that song. Music always sounds so much better in the car. Without a car, I don't know where I will hear what I love. Something to think about, I suppose.

Things creep into my mind, things I think I could live with. A little ramshackle house in the woods, steeping tea, and three ancient cats. A music room. An art room. A dark room.

Maybe after the Master's.
Bed time. Sick people get to sleep a lot. Someone should tell that to the insomnia god. Ha.

light and strings Tuesday, November 13, 2007 |

light and strings
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

One of the most freeing things in the world to possess is the ability to make a decision. Decisions based on choices. At this time, I have run out of choices. It seems that I am unable to manage. Manage daily life. The little things that might cause an ordinary person a moment of discomfort, or a tiny headache. These things throw my entire stride and I'm unable to recover from it.

I thought I could do it. I thought I could live like an ordinary person, as long as I kept on going and kept trying. But it looks like I can't. And realities like that bring me back to the beginning. And I'm floundering in the water, about to go under.

Thoughts slip into my brain. And I realise that no matter how many emails I send to someone I thought would be there for me...I realise that sometimes you care more for someone than they do for you. That's not meant to be read in a 'mean' way, it's just fact.

On the other hand, there isn't anyone out there that can help me. Or make things better. If any help at all is to be found, it's supposed to be within me. I just don't think I can find it.

So, I'll go back to Manitoulin Island. I'll barricade myself behind the doors of a harsh Northern winter and pretend I'm there resting, or getting better or whatever it is you tell someone when the prognosis isn't good.

I don't know.

I don't know what the answers are. I am going to have to buy heavy duty oxygen tanks for this session underwater.


beware, pissed woman ranting Friday, November 09, 2007 |

It's rare that I get angry anymore. By anymore, I just mean maybe the past few months. I haven't been any extreme emotion, one way or the other. But today. Today I'm pissed.

Pissed off that I can't seem to get a break in this wonderful work place I have seem to have landed in a few weeks ago. I was so excited to start and be a real social worker again practising and helping others, and all that other good stuff that I rarely pontificate about.

It seems that I've been passed over, not once but twice for a position in my office. Regardless of the fact that I am more qualified, and well....no nice way to say this: INDIAN, working on a reserve, I was passed over for a non-native woman with no degree, no experience and no idea what child welfare is like on a First Nation reserve. Score one for the team, I guess.

Then again today, they interviewed outside applicants (illegal since they did not first offer me the position being I am already employed by the agency), and no response when I ask 'what in hell is going on here?'.

I'm pissed because I have to share an office with the unqualified non-native women, 4 years my junior who acts like her youth outreach work has prepared her for this sort of job.

I'm pissed because my manager is frighteningly incompetent and I just wait for the day a child will truly suffer for our lack of accountability, qualifications and basic ability to do the job.

I'm pissed because I've been almost killing myself in order to get a job so I can be one of those ordinary people in Society who are able to care for themselves and I can't get a break.

I'm pissed because it looks like I will have to either go back on Welfare (yes, fucking welfare) or move in with my parents if I am not offered a job by the end of the month.

There's more. But what's the fucking point? I'll still be in the same post I was before I started typing.
Gish out.

Thursday, November 08, 2007 |

Dear Chicago,
I've come to find that it's not the big things the topple me. It's the little things that trip me up and make it harder to get back up again when I fall down.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007 |

Can't you just get over it?

In my recent freak out to find a job after my current contract is over, I plastered my resume all over the province in the hopes I would continue to be financially independant. Since that brave (har, har) day, I've had a few bites but nothing interesting until this morning. I'm intrigued by an After-Hours program they have in south-eastern Ontario. I'm going to interview for it and if offered the position, it's likely I will accept.

For two reasons:

1.) I can work from home *during the night* and stay in my pajamas unless an emergency call comes through and I need to leave the house.

2.) The salary is the same any other agency would offer me, and I do not have to carry a case load AND still get to stay in my pj's.

So, I'd theoretically have the days free to do what I please (sleep, sleep and more sleep) and work through the nights, and sleep (if I want) and have a good salary in order to save money for the big move next summer.

Having said all that, I must not count chickens before they hatch. I'll wait until next week, before I start pontificating about what a fabulous job it would be. The catch being it's in Belleville.

In any event, I'm just slowly putting in more time in the game of life as it is. I used to wait with expectation for what would come at me next, around the corner. I don't do that anymore, I guess I got tired of waiting. Watching. And I don't necessarily believe that anything could come around the corner at you. I think it only happens to others, by chance.

The weather is fierce. The wind was whipping through my window last night (currently covered in blankets because the landlord has not come by to fix it...still stuck open) and I listened to it howling around the corners and plastering leaves onto the window and sides of the building. I was slipping further down underneath my blankets, watching Terminator 3 for the 1000th time (mostly for the Nick Stahl feature) and wondering when it woud settle down out there. Then it snowed on my way in to work this morning. It may not necessarily look it, but it really feels winter is making an attempt.

Only 2.5 hours left of work here, and one week and 2 days of contract. Noone thought I was counting.

oh. But I am.

Are you loving the way your life has turned out, my dear?

rantings of the employed Monday, November 05, 2007 |

Oh. Are the days back when I post more than once per day? Unlikely. It just appears that I have a few more moments on my hands than normal.

While I'm not privately stewing about the fact my current employer doesn't seem to want to offer me (styling social worker extraordinaire) a full time position here, I am scanning the newspapers for daily news tidbits and amongst other things, any new job postings.

I've even opened up the rest of the country to be available to my daily newspaper scrounging activities. As well as some parts of the United States. I'm willing to relocate, I have skills!! Why aren't I being snapped up like brand new pastry in a New York City Bakery?? And you know, I'm kinda cheap.

Maybe it's my resume. Or my cover letter. Maybe, the hiring people can see through my brave facade and they realise I'm really kind of desperate to stay employed and will stop at nothing to get work....just maybe.

But...not really. I have a back up plan. And truth be told, I'm really not all that cheap.

Little light of mine |

I've had this song in my head all morning after I read about Bruce Spingsteen's concert at Madison Square garden the other night. It sounds like it was something between a two hour long song and a lot of exercise. I still dig Springsteen, so I didn't mind the read.

My dreams have been bothering me the past few weeks. In every one, no matter what the current theme is, my ex boyfriend pops up. He's there for a little while, then he's gone. No matter how insignificant his role, I wake up right away. I sit in bed and smoke a cigarette, trying to ignore any feelings that rush up into the back of my throat, then attempt sleep again. Usually, I don't get to fall back to sleep. Especially since it's so elusive to begin with, in my house.

I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the Fall weather. Or maybe it's my breakfast (lack thereof, to be honest). Or the way I make a cup of tea in the morning (or order it from the drive through because I'm usually late for work).

I do know that I'm not sorry for the way things have unravelled between us. And both of us have moved on in ways we've thought appropriate. I'm also not begrudging his happiness or anything like that.

The thing that bothers me the most, is that even subconscious thoughts still come to mind, and I can feel....what I used to feel. It's like living parts all over again, and having no control of the beginning or the ending.

The John Cusack Situation and Gish Friday, November 02, 2007 |

These days I only see my movies through a wine glass. Red wine is the new thing. A glass at dinner and I'm done for the evening.

I had my evening all planned for tonight. I was going to get home from work, change clothes and head out for a movie with my older sister. I was all ready to go see http://www.martianchild.com/ and eat a box of popcorn before coming back home to collapse into my lumpy bed with, you guessed it, another glass of red wine and a familiar dvd.

I've heard mixed reviews on this movie, from totally sappy to totally awesome. To be honest, I'm not expected something fantastic, because of the 'feel good movie' feel that I've gotten from the trailer and the reviews. I just want to go stare at John Cusack for a couple of hours and that's about it.

Robot heart...gotta...
I've had this little crush on him that's lasted a couple of years. I read somewhere that one should always have a fantasy that's unattainable; this is mine. I'm not the marrying type of girl, but if he asked, I'd do it in a second. It's not his looks, or his soft spoken voice (although that is nice to hear), it's the way he carries himself. He's smart, and funny and private. The end. There aren't any thoughts in my mind about skipping along the river in Chicago, holding hands with Mr. Cusack, or otherwise.

Anyhow, it's just about time for me to get back to work...and secretly plan a trip to Chicago. Just kidding. I don't really have anything worthwhile to read from my brain this cold, Fall day. Maybe I'll think of something for tomorrow.
I miss myself...

Everything is Automatic - The Matthew Good Band

Thursday, November 01, 2007 |

Drinking tea as hot as I can stand it. It burned my tongue earlier, but I can’t get enough. When I was driving in this morning, I could see the fog snuggled against the ground, not rising and burning off the way it normally does. I was cold, so I left the window closed and listened to Josh Ritter until I hit Brantford, changing over to Matthew Good.

I keep waiting to slide into the routine of working, and living life like an ordinary person but I guess maybe I’m too eager to get back to it. Listening to really old music in the car on the way home last night, I realized that I missed who I used to be. I used to be in control. I used to have fun sometimes. Now I just look for it, where it used to be.

I left my window open last night, the wind brought the rain in onto the edge of my bed. I fell asleep like that, watching the final episode of Carnivale and Buckley under my hand, his nose tucked beneath his tail. My new hospital green sheets are lovely. They stay in place and keep me warm under my flimsy duvet.

One of the things about my new job is that in the event I get a full time position lasting more than a few months, I will move to the Brantford area and live in a motel until it's time to flee the country for New York City. I can just picture the entries and the photographs now....seedy little neon lights on the strip street in the city. Cigarette butts and non-smoking rooms. Me and Buckley languishing in free cable t.v and bad t.v dinners.

Ahhh...the things I do to stay employed.