I think about my family every day. At some point during the day, one or a number of my family members will cross my mind. I might wonder how things are going for Em at school, or how one of my nephews are faring. Just little thoughts that plop in. I took that photo a few years ago, when the boys were willing to listen to what I was saying when I said "stand still!!".

Now, though. Photos aren't coming so easily. I couldn't figure out for the longest time what it was that was different. Then I figured it out. Turns out the Arctic isn't so inspiring most days. I mean, unless you're out at the floe (flow?) edge or gliding on a boat past huge glaciers....there isn't a whole lot to photograph. Especially in Hall Beach. I could point the camera in all directions, and it would look the same. Flat, white, blowing snow. I imagine it will be even more difficult once the dark descends on us full time.

Speaking of dark. Since we turned the clocks back, I am cranky that I am sitting in the office when the sun sets and I have to have a lamp on to see what I'm doing (I abhore flourescents). It's almost dark out there! It just feels weird. And of course, the village is alive with people and kids walking around and doing stuff.

Even though I'm not supposed to be eating this stuff, I made fried bread again last night. It didn't turn out as awesome as the first batch but it still tastes like home. In fact, all I want to do now is go back to the house and eat fried bread and watch a couple of episodes of CSI. Bailey is currently upset because I ran out of his favourite dog treats (but to be fair, so did the store) and so he has to settle for dog biscuits which I suspect is hard on his teeth (I think he has lost a few).

News on the CBC about work conditions right here in Nunavut:http://www.cbc.ca/canada/north/story/2008/11/04/nu-social.html

It will be pretty stressful for the time being. In the meantime, I'm doing my best to lower my blood sugar count so I don't go blind by the time I'm 40. I stopped drinking regular pop and switched to diet. I've also been trying to make better food choices (although I sometimes slip hence the fried bread). I don't know if it's doing any good since I don't have a blood sugar tester yet, but hopefully it is doing something. It's a day to day thing to deal with, and kind of tricky, from what I gather from other's blogs.

I guess we just have to wait and see.
Until then, I suppose I'll see you later,
G.

Labels: Arctic, Arctic Circle, blood sugar, diabetes, family, food, photographs, photography

I keep getting hit in the head by lines from different songs I'm listening to. They stick in my head, I use them for titles of blog entries, or for memory joggers in my day planner. People are going to think I'm seriously demented. If my stuff were to be examined by CSI, they'd never figure out who offed me...too much cross contamination of evidence.

Work is gonzo. Interesting developments that keep me intrigued, listening at the door for more information. Suddenly, I'm more interested in what's going on than I am in what I'll be making for dinner. And we all know food consumes me. Most days. It looks like I could be bouncing between two communities for work related issues, which will a.) increase the amount of air miles I collect and b.) change up scenery for my brain. So it might not be such a bad thing.

My parka arrived the other day. It's called the Resolute parka. It's by Canada Goose and a maroon colour. It's actually quite nice. And warm. I never thought they made coats so warm. I can tell that I will be toasty all winter, even in the -50 weather that's expected in December/January.

an old photo from a couple of years ago.

I got a few things in the mail yesterday. Mail day for me is always fun. I like getting stuff, even if it's pretty useless. A Chapters card came in, the Hawksley Workman album I won on Facebook, and a book by an author I thought I would try out (so far, it's pretty darn good).

Hawksley's new album is called Los Manlicious. I'm only on the 5th song and it's awesome. Reminiscent of (last night) We Were the Delicious Wolves. So snarky, nutty, cabaret-ish. It's really great. I can tell this will be an album I will listen to a lot. Very loud. It sound kind of European, if that makes any sense. It's really great to get excited about music again.

I did take a couple of new pictures lately. The problem is getting them uploaded to Flickr since I don't have an internet connection at home (well, I do if I take the modem home with me) and most nights I just leave it at work since it's easier. But I'll probably start taking it home more often just to stay caught up on the photo front.

I'm looking forward to my Christmas vacation. I've bought the ticket, planned where I will be and I can't wait for a month and a half to go by so I can be in Ontario and near my nutty family. I also can't wait to see my new nephew who is currently being hot-housed in my sister's belly (at least for another month or so) until he's ready to join us.

Anyhow, time to get back to work. God knows I'll be kept busy over the next little while.

Labels: Arctic, Arctic Circle, family, flying, Gish, hawksley, hawksley workman, holidays, job, music, music opinion, nephews, Nunavut, photographs, vacation, weather, winter, work

there's a town in North Ontario...


I love the scent of the blossoms that floats around me when I'm sitting on the front steps of my parents house. It occurs to me that I took everything around for granted. Everything. The sharp blades of green grass, the budding leaves and the falling-open blossoms of the apple trees and lilac bushes. I knew that nature was happening around me, but I didn't pay any attention to it. And how much I liked it. Especially flowers. I just can't get enough of the scent of fresh lilacs in the vase in front of me.

I'm just enjoying it now.

I even cooked dinner for my family this evening. I never cook, anyone who has read this journal knows I'm no genius in the kitchen. It was just burgers and pasta salad with sugar peas but it was good and it was satisfying to sit down to eat. When we were at the grocery store, I had to force myself to not buy too much, reminding myself I could come back to the store and all the fresh produce would still be there. Crazy how much my perspective has been scewed since moving to Very Northern Canada.

In a fit of I-Don't-Know-What, Chunk and I bought a big box of fireworks. Stay tuned for either a very sad accidental dismemberment or fabulous photograhs.

Labels: family, food, homesweet home, music, nature, Northern Ontario, vacation

Truth be told, I'm so sick of whining about being sick or sad, or 'not feeling so hot', that I could die. It's not as though those are the only parts of my life. Maybe in the moment, they certainly feel that way. I should update this blog somewhere other than bed, really.

This weekend, I guess I'll be the 'sad girl on the ferry' when I go home for Thanksgiving. You know what I mean; you notice a lone figure standing on the deck of the ferry, smoking cigarettes. She has windswept hair and sad eyes. Maybe her little dog is pulling on his leash to go elsewhere....but that's where she stands, looking out onto the painfully blue water. Maybe she's in deep thought about her lost love, or the fact she can't cook. Or perhaps, she is mourning the fact she never bought those trendy Gucci sunglasses at the Half-off store and now has to face the others on the boat with bare eyes. And you know just by her luggage that she must feel somewhat cosmopolitan for appearing at her family home in time for the holidays. Able and eager to leave after dinner. Slick sunglasses or not.

Yep. I'll play that part in public just because maybe I have nothing else to do. The only thing that sucks about it is they do not allow smoking on deck anymore. Must be all the cigarette butts that are floating in Lake Huron. Or maybe the seagulls finally got together and made a stink about the tainted air they have to deal with as they fly in tandem with the boat as it crosses from Tobermory to Manitoulin Island.

We call it a boat, not a ferry. Unsophisticated. But I don't think the locals care. Or the tourists, for that matter.

Nuts man, we're all just nuts. Excuse me, I must go and listen to Bruce Springsteen now.

Labels: acting, Bruce Springsteen, family, Ferry, Gish, holidays, music, New York, smoking

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

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

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

my hospital room
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

I've been purposly ignoring my ailing laptop these past few days. Save for checking email and a friends' website, I've mostly been watching tv or re-reading one of my countless books. And thinking. Always with the thinking.

Sometimes, thinking can take me to places I used to dream about. Sometimes, thinking can land me in the right place when I've done a wrong thing. For instance, taking your life. Ending it all. Offing yourself. Whichever phrase you use, it means the same thing in any language. And I've been known to try stupid things. Lots of stupid things. But I've also been lucky in that it only took until I was 31 to find out what the answer to all my stupidness *and* greatness stems from. I mean, I'm not a rockstar, nor a famous painter or photographer.

But I've got this brain that never seems to stop. From that, good and bad things happen. At this point in time, I'm focusing on the good things. Like this photograph of my nephew:

taken but his Aunt Niibin.

I also did a lot of thinking in the hospital. Not really much else one can do when they aren't allowed to leave. I've been thinking about Bipolar and my creativity. Or what to do with the issue of school. My family wants me to wait until I'm more 'settled' which seems silly to me. Why would one get settled only to up and leave again? Or a job. Or a real life, instead of the half life I was living.

I don't know the answers to anything small. I just have one big answer that I have to break down into something more manageable.

And dammit, I want to see some new live shows.

Labels: Daniel Johnston, depression, drama, family, how not to be an idiot, job, Matthew Good, nephews, neurotic, New York, photographs, photography

out of gas
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.
The level of fuel in my car is usually low, and now that I don't have a job, I've noticed the 'out of gas' light light up more often than as previous. But this time, I think I hit an all-time low.

This is where one can say, ah she's hit her plateau. What I would say in response is that there is no plateau for me. Not yet. I'm not running around with a sticker on my forehead that says I'm crazy, but on the other hand, close friends of mine know what's going on. Because there are quite a few hours I spent on my own, but do not recall, no matter how hard I've tried.

It's morning time, where I am. The air is a bit spoiled from the brewery behind my house. I live near the Labatt place and sometimes when the wind is right, you get a wiff of something that just makes you want to retch. The sun is out, and it feels like a cool Spring morning. The weather online say it is to thunder and storm later on. But looking out of my bedroom window, one wouldn't have any idea.

lying on the gurney, staring up at the blinding light. Thirsty. So thirsty. Nothing floating through my mind, with the exception of getting home as soon as possible. You weren't there, and neither was the other one. None belonging there, I suppose. It's been awhile since I've felt there was someone below to catch me with a net, like all those silly Saturday morning cartoons from 1983.

Only it's not 1983, it's 2007 and I have no excuse for my behaviour. I need to take responsibility for my actions, not my family and/or friends.

Oh, Interpol was just playing on my clock radio, and I had a sense of Deja Vu where it felt like I was living in the house I bought 2 years ago, but sold one year ago. Early mornings spent in the hammock with coffee and cigarettes. The knowledge that no one knew I was back there unless they came through the back yard.

I miss that house. But its just a material thing. And lately, there isn't much room for fancifull day dreaming.

Labels: depression, family, Gish, Matthew Good, underwater

Ok, so I don't want to make a big fuss about anything, nor do I expect anyone to fall at my feet because of what I am about to tell you.

ok, first things first. It's a cool Monday morning, and I've just brewed my first pot of coffee in my new coffee maker. Not a big deal, huh? It is to me when I realise I've never owned a coffee maker before, nor was I ever interested in the subtle differences in french roast, columbian picked, or fair trade coffee.

I wanted the Fair trade coffee but because of the price, settled for something a little different. French vanilla roasted beans that I ground up in the gorcery store while my older sister watched me with my new treat. I'm enjoying this cup of coffee now, even though there isn't an cream to be found in the house, so I must drink it black.

Bold, hearty and robust, and french vanilla-y, is how I would describe this coffee. Tasty, even without cream.

Ok, so I was diagnosed as being Bipolar type 2 last week. It took me a few hours to get used to the fact that I am now labelled as having a potentially serious mental health problem. When I say hours, I mean that I drove around saying 'holy shit' to myself in the car. Clutching a new bunch of prescription notes, I went to the pharmacy and had them filled. The bottles rattled around in my backpack like a new song.

As Mattie would say: I felt like I could potentially open my own pharmacy with the amount of prescription drugs I now take. This is bothersome for me, because apparently I will have to take this stuff in order to avoid any serious 'episodes' in the future. The language of Bipolar is interesting, as well. Episodes, disease, hypomania, 40% of Bipolar type 2 population attempt suicide.

So that's it. I have Matthew Good as a friend who understands what I'm going through, he knows the lingo, he understands about the drugs. He *gets* it. It's hard for me to explain, but I could be saying something and he'll finish the sentence. And that's comforting. I also have the goodwill of my family, mostly because I think for them it explains why I do a lot of the things I do.

And you know, I was going to make this a friends only entry, but now I'm saying Fuck it. I'm bipolar, big deal, so is half the population.

the end (for now)Love,Gish

Labels: bipolar, depression, family, Gish, habits, how not to be an idiot, inspiration, Matthew Good, neurotic

Jeans and a t-shirt or t-shirt and jeans?

Rose and I are *supposed* to go out tonight, but it's getting later and later and neither of us appear to be anywhere near ready to the meet the exceptionally high standards of downtown London, Ontario.

I felt the need to clarify 'Ontario'.

I'm also debating high heels. If I do heels, I'll have to stay reasonably sober so as to not fall flat on the finely arched eyebrows of my face. If I choose a lower heel (most are 3 inch or higher) then I can rest assured that I won't end up tasting concrete tonight.

On the other hand, I look freaking *HOT* in highheels, and with the black bustier I was sort of planning on wearing...I'd be like...molten. Molten something, anyway.

And also I'll admit here that I will use the slow and sleazy comfort of gin and tonics to wash away the day. I saw my nephews Riley and Danny for the first time in over 2 years today. We spent 6 hours laughing, eating and driving around looking for yard sales. Eating ice cream. Their father has finally agreed to contact and access. And I know it's good. It was good to see them, parts of my heart must be scabbing over while I type this, but the look in their eyes when they asked me I didn't come back for them sooner, nearly did me in.

I guess they dont know I'm emotionally fragile. Not their fault.

So, now I am listening to ancient Daniel Johnston songs and wondering what the hell 30 years old women wear to clubs. I'm afraid of the answer and will likely show up in a black tshirt and a pair of blue jeans. I'm not a club girl, never will be and can't even imagine the TIME it takes for one to get ready. I slap on some makeup, make sure my teeth are brushed and my underwear isn't showing (long story) and I'm out the door.

I called A friend in B.C to say hello, then answered the telephone like I was Alice in Wonderland or something. Keep thinking of falling down rabbit holes. I guess the advertising worked, Matt. I bought an old rotary phone at a yard sale today, its sitting proudly beside my bed. It rings oh so gently when someone calls me. So I'll go out tonight, with two 50 dollar bills wrapped around my Driver's License (I'm a cheap drunk) and see if I can consume enough to dance in public.

For some unknown reason, I'm struck with indecision this evening.
I guess I'd better get on with it.
Love,
Gish

Labels: Apostle, Daniel Johnston, drama, family, gin, girls, girls night, habits, how not to be an idiot, Matthew Good, True love

Mother
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.
I took this photo a little while ago. The word 'mother' stood out to me. My mother is worried about me. I adore her, and it hurts me when she is worried. I'll talk about my mother in more detail at some point.

I've been listening to a lot of Matthew Good (for night time music) and Ani DiFranco (to get my Bitch on). Instead of cursing anything that has gone wrong the past month, I'm in the unique position (again) of concentrating on getting even, and looking at things to do that I would normally pass on.

The evil nasty down mood hasn't been around for a couple of days, I actually feel like my old self today. Yesterday was a little manic, I did some things pretty impulsive. I got two two new tattoos (small ones) for a very reasonable price at Addictive Tattoo here in London. I also bought some new skirts as the plan is to remain in skirts, tshirts and flipflops all summer. I also splurged on a manicure and pedicure (30 dollars) and some Starbucks coffee (which I normally don't bother with). I was a buying machine yesterday.

Today, I will see my two nephews, Riley and Danny for the first time in 2 years. I was able to work out an agreement with their father who used to be quite unapproachable (I think the court papers I prepared had something to do with it) and now, I and the rest of the family will have regular access to them. So, later on today I am sure my mood will change as I will have a lot of questions to answer.

The weather around here is on crack. 35 degrees one day, then 18 degrees the next. Consistency would be nice.

There are a few concerts I would like to attend this summer, but with having no job I doubt I will get out there. Buckley likes to eat watermelon, which I usually snack on before bed.

And thanks to Mattie, I have a thing for cheese now. Freshly grated Parmesan and asiago on top of any pizza I'm eating. I can only hope I do not move on to Tapas after this addiction, as I'm currently broke and can't afford such things *grin*

Anyway, my youngest nephew, Nicholaki is having a birthday party tomorrow, he turned 2 earlier this week. I got him a ball he can jump on. I better put a helmet on him, just in case.
Love, Gish

Labels: coffee, depression, family, Gish, habits, layers, Matthew Good, nephews, opinions, relationships, spending

My thoughts and energies for the past few days since I got out of the hospital have been directed toward work and the high school politics, manager's meetings, and defense of my character and my competance in my work which I hold such pride in, to the degree it can affect negatively on other areas of my life, as some people know. I don't really want to talk about it, but felt the need to mention it.

Coming home this afternoon, I gently ejected an impromptu houseguest that had appeared back in my life after a long absence. In truth, I already knew what the outcome of this psuedo relationship would be, given that truly in my heart and my mind, I do not have anything there to offer anyone. Just try explaining that to a guy who wants to do nothing but spend all available time with you. So there's the what I call 'empty husk' feeling I have along with the fact that he's been in my personal space the past 2 days, and I truly felt myelf not liking the level of intimacy that forms between people from spending a lot time together.

Which makes me a little sad, because I would like to believe that I some day I will have something to offer and not be turned off by the intimacy factor. I just like my 'alone time', always have, always will, I suppose.

When my younger sister, Wasse had her first child, Riley, my older sister B. was there from day one. B and Riley formed a close bond, and she was one of the most consistent things in his life up until his father decided that we didn't need to see our nephews anymore, about 2 years ago. We have not seen them since, Riley and Danny.

Then today, B was volunteering at a waterpark for environmental solutions for water usage. All kinds of fun stuff for the kids to do with water, etc. School aged children came in droves. Riley was one of them. And he didn't recognise her.

She's devastated. I can't do anything other than call Riley's father and leave another message asking that we be allowed to see the children on a regular basis. And miss having these two little guys smiling up at me when hunting for Easter eggs or splashing in the bath (although I guess they are too old for me to bathe them now). Lost times, moments.


Danny and Riley in my old apartment about 4 years ago.


In other news, take a look at the below link to see how Matthew Good writes about how underneath it all, we're just the same after all.
http://www.matthewgood.org/2007/06/down-some-lonesome-street/

Labels: cry, family, Gish, job, layers, Matthew Good, nephews, photographs, we all lose in the end