Procrastination

Today I am preparing to go home for Christmas, tonight, on the bus. A 13 hour trek. And instead of frantically doing laundry, and wrapping presents, and cleaning the house, I am on the internet, writing. Why? Because this is what I do when I am stressed out. I procrastinate. I'm ridiculously good at it, in fact. Travelling really brings out the anxiety in me. Even just going home. I don't know what it is, but it makes me physically sick. Like right now. So in response to my anxiety, I have developed this very unhelpful coping mechanism - procrastination, or what I like to call, prolonging the agony and making things worse. I have so much to do before I leave tonight. I need to do it. Like now.

Anyway.

Despite the whole being alive thing, I can't really report much. I haven't done a lot. Nothing in my life has really changed. I'm still having health problems. And it wears me down. It feels like my body hates me. I guess that's fair, because I hate my body. Maybe it's a revenge thing. It seems every time I try to make a healthy change, my body rebels.

I was doing yoga. It was going well. For eight weeks. Then I started another class, and was feeling really good about my decision to continue with yoga, and with this particular instructor. I mean, really well. I would leave there, and actually smile to myself, and think yes, this was a good decision. Well done. Two lessons in, my body would not allow me to continue. I've decided to take an indefinite leave of yoga. Not sure where to go from here. I thought yoga would be the best form of exercise for someone like me. I'm thinking in the new year I will join a beginner's running program, see how that goes.

On the music front, I haven't been out much. The last show I went to was with Drummer Boy, and we saw a great reggae band with a powerful, dynamic female lead. Souljah Fyah, with Fendercase opening. It was not bad, but we were both in a pretty subdued mood.

I hope to see Sarah Harmer in the new year, also with Drummer Boy. But I'm feeling awkward about that. Other shows we've gone together, have just been last minute decisions, something that just happened. This would be an actual plan to go together. I shouldn't feel weird about it. Friends do these things, right? But because I'm still in this weird, limbo relationship, I feel like it will be...misinterpreted by the V. And then I have to ask myself, why would I rather go with Drummer Boy? Am I really not at all interested in doing things with the V? I know that part of it is simply that bringing the V to a show, feels like a chore, because he's not into it like I am. He's just going for me. Whereas, attending live shows is how I met Drummer Boy. It's a mutual interest, and what our entire friendship is based upon. But, a little voice that I won't allow to the forefront of my mind, tells me it's something else. Like maybe I just don't enjoy his company. And that makes me feel guilty.

Well, I think I must face the inevitable now. No more procrastination for me. I'm really hoping this trip home will be worth the anxiety.

letting people in

so i finally officially came out of the book closet yesterday and let everyone in on my writing habit. i posted my first blog post on saturday, then another one today, and announced them both on facebook and twitter. it was an odd feeling, i was scared, letting people in like that, but it also felt like a load was lifted. like, i don't care quite as much if people think i'm cheezy, or if my blog sucks, or if my writing sucks for that matter. because it's just me. take it or leave it.

No Whedon, No way.

I learned some distressing news the other day. Apparently, the WB has decided to go ahead with a reboot of the Buffyverse via a new movie. The only thing is, they're going to do it without the involvement of its creator, Joss Whedon. WTF?

This is wrong on so many levels. It's not just that I'm a HUGE fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. True, this show has meant more to me than any other TV show, movie, maybe even book ever made. But it's more than that. It's bigger than my obsession. It's about what's right and what's wrong.

As someone who has spent about three years finishing the first draft of a novel, this really bugs me. I couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have someone come along and throw up chunks of what I've created, and exclude me from the process entirely.

I for one, am going to try very hard not to support this movie in any way. It will be difficult, because I know there will be a morbid curiosity to find out what kind of monstrosity she created out of a masterpiece. (I'm referring to Joss' vision of Buffy and not the flop that was the movie).

I've included a link to a petition to the WB. Sign it. Please.

http://www.thepetitionsite.com/1/no-whedon-no-buffy---boycotting-wbs-buffy-movie/

Book n' Blogging

So I got as far as signing up for a new blog, figured out my name, and my little tag line, chose a template, added widgets, and now...I'm stuck. I have no idea how to start this thing. I mean, how much can I say about my writing process? I was thinking of other things I could write about. It's surprisingly difficult because this is a blog that I would advertise to my real-world "friends", so I guess I'm just feeling nervous. Like preparing a public speaking presentation for my classmates.

I have definitely not been very consistent with the time I spend on my novel. I can go months without working on it, and then if I'm lucky, have months of writing. I've been trying to do a little bit of editing every week though. I obsessively calculate what percentage I've finished. For example, as of now, I am 66% into editing my first draft. Not that accurate a measurement I know, because I'm just basing it on the number of pages I've gone through. I've deleted A LOT of scenes and added a few more here and there. There are times when I absolutely despise what I've created, and then there are times when I become quite involved in just reading it, like I've almost forgotten that it's my story and I know how it ends. I love those times. I know there's still a lot of work left to do, (probably 50 more drafts), but I have to admit that I am a little excited at the progress, however slow it has been.

Halloween Let-Down

Well it's Halloween night and I'm sitting here in my Hit Girl costume writing a post. This was a really lame-o Halloween weekend. I guess I only have myself to blame. I should have arranged something long before-hand so that I wouldn't be able to back out at the last minute. (Sometimes the only way for me to get out and socialize is to trick myself, you see).

This weekend I pretty much just let V take the lead. Which meant spending Friday night with his sister in the Den of Smoke because it was her birthday weekend, going to his friend's house afterwards (Den of Smoke #2) and sitting around with a beer watching boys play video games, stopping in on the pseudo-in-laws again the next day for cake, and then doing nothing Saturday night. I will take the blame for Saturday night. V wasn't in the mood to do much it seemed, and usually it is his friends who have a party, but this year nobody did. I had a few options and I backed out of each one with the excuse that I would just feel awkward and out-of-place. I need a little push if I'm going to do something social like go to a party, and V was in a mopey mood so he didn't even try.

So today I thought we would take his friend's daughter trick or treating but that didn't happen. So I suggested we go to this crazy haunted house event geared to teens and adults. No kids allowed, so I'm sure it would have been freaky as Hell, but we didn't do that either. So basically, after handing out candy, we just went out for dinner in our costumes.

I was so proud of my costume this year too. I guess I could always use it for next year.

Because there's always next year. Right?

The Writer's Book Closet

I have a blog, but it's a secret blog. I like the anonymity of it. I can talk about work, and friends and the boyfriend and his monster family. I can vent. And I do. Probably too much. It is perhaps even the reason why it seems nobody reads the damn thing. I have a blog, but it's not fully satisfying, and I realize it's because, despite the fact that I like the anonymity of it, I also want something that I don't have to keep secret. I crave a place where I can talk about my writing and connect it to my self, my real self, not my MaryPoppins self. And so, I'm considering starting a new one.

I think I might try out a new site. I want it to be interesting, have pictures, have video and all that jazz, but I am severely and hopelessly technologically challenged. And since I have the attention-span of an Aphid on meth, I'm not too keen on sitting myself down and trying to master it, you know?

I think about starting this new blog, and then I become all insecure because, if there's no interest in this anonymous blog, why would anyone want to read a blog from the perspective of the real me, or rather the public me? I don't have any specialized knowledge about anything (which is quite the accomplishment in and of itself considering the amount of education I have), I don't really lead an interesting life, and most of all, I will feel all exposed.

I want to blog about my writing. I want to come out of the writer's book closet, because up until now, there's only a handful of people that I have told about my book writing adventure. (On that note, I am 60% through my second draft, and wow is it tedious. But more on that later.) Over time, I've bashfully admitted to more and more people, that I have a "little hobby". I try to downplay it as much as possible in order to hide its importance to me. In order to hide the fact that I've wanted to be a writer since I was about seven years old. That I actually am writing a book, and it's a fantasy novel. That yes, once I am finished, I will try to have it published. And why do I want to hide these facts? Because I feel embarrassed. Embarrassed for thinking it's even a possibility. Embarrassed for being a cliche, for being one out of a billion people that wants to write a book. Embarrassed for having something I still daydream about. Embarrassed that I'm still a completely lost soul. Embarrassed to be me.

Coming out of the writer's book closet means exposing myself, letting people in, showing them who I am. And that scares me to death.

And that is why I have to do it.

One Page Per Day?

So I heard about this neat little program from Twitter. It's called "One Page Per Day". You sign in with your Google or Twitter account and it presents you with one blank page for you to fill in a day. I'm curious what options there are once we have filled the page or finished the book. Is it easy to transfer the files to something that we can edit and use? I've decided to give it a try.

I'm at work (and so loving it as you can probably tell by the way I'm doing something completely irrelevant to my job), and there's a box of Timbits sitting seductively in front of me on my desk. My co-worker bought them for me on her lunch break in order to cheer me up. Or, here's another theory: said co-worker, who is very much aware that I would love to lose weight and be a healthier version of myself, is actually trying to sabotage my efforts. Yes, that's right folks, I have reached a new level of paranoia.

I would welcome a snack break (even though I just had lunch, and McDonalds at that), but the emails that bombard my inbox keep me here (mostly) with my eyes glued to the screen that slowly but ever so surely sucks the life out of me.

This filling the page thing is harder than it seems. I think I'll take a break, check some emails, do my actual job, you know, fun stuff!

Cakeless

So it's happening again - It's October. My birthday is this weekend and I am turning 33, (not 34 like previously stated in one of my posts and oh my God I am already going senial).

It's Friday, and I have no plans for my birthday, which I kind of prefer but it is also kinda making me sad. There wasn't even a work-cake for me today, unless they are waiting until Monday? It's not like I enjoy the spectacle of having a cake at work and doing a really sad-ass job at cutting the pieces, but I do feel that my lack of a birthday celebration is depriving my fellow co-workers of some well-deserved sugary-goodness, dammit.

I can't wait to leave work today (there is 15 minutes to go!) but not having any plans is making me a little anxious. Chances are pretty good that doing something for my day will be just another obligation - punishment for living another year if you will - most likely, an evening spent with the pseudo-in-laws. Oh, life is grand.

But maybe, just maybe, this year will be different,and good times will be had. Stranger things have happened, right?

Slogging and Nazi Yoga

I fear I'm starting to be a blog-slacker again, a slogger if you will. Maybe not,
that sounds kinda dirty. Anyway, here I am at work again, being driven over the edge by the Beast, who is so unbelievably incompetent that nobody can get a straight answer out of her about anything. Anything at all. It's gotten to the point where she doesn't have to do anything specific to aggravate me anymore. Just the sound of her voice sets me on edge. But enough about that.

I have a couple of friends who claim that yoga helps with "everything", and since i pretty much need help with "everything" i figured i should give it a try. so i am taking Beginner's Yoga for the first time in my life. I have weekly sessions on Monday nights at a yoga studio, but since one day a week doesn't seem like enough, I decided to do some drop-in yoga at the city fitness centre once a week as well. i have had three yoga sessions with three different instructors so far. i'm hoping this will be a good thing, to experience different teachers and different styles. I will at least have the consistency on Monday nights with the same instructor. i did drop-in last night and left with a vow to plot revenge against my instructor. i didn't know there were such a thing as a nazi yoga teacher. i thought they were all about flowers and energy flowing and being gentle and loving and...

i guess that was naive.

Slow Boiled Frog

today is one of those days i feel the need to justify my time here at this dream job by using it do something else, like hey, write in my neglected blog.

so i went on my supposed vacation. i drove 11 hours with my bf. at ten o'clock the night before, one of his thoughtful family members told us she is catching a ride with us. i was so happy. she was then to catch the greyhound to her final destination. but as is typical with anything planned by his family, this didn't work out. supposedly the bus was full and she had to spend the night with us at my sister's, a rather uptight person who doesn't like unexpected visitors, likes it even less than me in fact. but anyways, it's done now. not surprisingly, i ended up wishing i had gone alone, as the V (my bf) and I didn't get along too well. i was a little surprised at how i missed him when he was gone though. he took a bus to visit his family in the next city over after spending a couple of days with me. i could go on forever about this but i think i will stop here.

it saddens me that it is already September. How did that happen, really? And then September leads to October, which leads to me turning 34 (oh God!) and then October leads to winter time torture. for the next 5 bloody months. every year i say i don't think i can take another winter here. i need to move south. maybe this will be the year that finally does it.

i've been neglecting both my writing and my exercise but I'm hoping to change that this week. i finally nabbed an evening alone last night, so i started back on the drudgery of editing my second draft. and tonight, will-power willing, i will go to my first class of drop-in yoga. at least, i think it starts today.

it's strange how crisis seems to develop into routine. with each emotional breakdown comes the almost-comfort of knowing that this is it. i can't take anymore. this breaking point will inevitablely lead to change or death. change or death. but then everything calms down, and nothing changes. and death doesn't come. but i keep going. i feel like that slow boiling frog only i am more self-aware than a dying frog. i know i'm slowly dying but i don't do anything about it. i just sit there and let it happen.

A New Day

The loud buzzer signals the start of a new day. I groan into my pillow. I want to punish the messenger. I briefly contemplate the damage I could do with one blow. The carnage of plastic that would litter my bedroom. The feeling of satisfaction at having destroyed the bane of my existence.

But it's not the alarm clock that makes me feel this way. It's not the alarm clock that whispers in my ear every morning upon waking "why bother?" It's not the alarm clock that pries its way inside my chest and replaces my heart with poison.

I drift back into blissful sleep until my enemy returns. I hit the snooze button two or three times more. Until it's inevitable. I must get out of bed. I must begin my day. I must put out of my mind, at least temporarily, the Thing that wants to steal my future and poison all that I hold dear.

It's a new day.

Some days...

The Hell Beast that is my boss has returned from her vacation. She was back one day and someone was fired. It seems that just when I think this place can't sink any lower I am awed by another ridiculous scenario. After messing around with this guy's hours (he worked as a printer upstairs doing signs and banners) he is then dragged downstairs and told to do Reception. This happened because while the Beast was away, the incompetent girl she hired to replace the competent woman who worked here for 20 years and finally quit because of her, also quit. He was doing fine when she returned from her vacation. She was back one bloody day before she fired him, saying she gave him a chance and it didn't work out. She is a liar. She tried to justify it to one of my coworkers by saying that "a man shouldn't be doing that job and I gave him a chance". I was not here when this all went down, but apparently, this very quiet, very soft-spoken guy just completely lost it. He even called her the 'C' word. I can't say that he wasn't justified. He called her on her bullshit, told her she is a horrible human being, and that he feels sorry for everyone who works here. She was apparently too shocked to respond. Kinda wish I had been here to see the look on her face, but knowing her like I do, I doubt any of it seeped into that thick skull of hers.

My two days off were pretty uneventful. I think I just wanted to delay working with my boss again. I will be going on my actual "vacation" to see my family in a couple of weeks.

I think I get migraine headaches. I always just assumed when I had a nasty headache like this one, that it was part of the flu or something else, but I do have some other symptoms. My dad and my sister also get migraines so I guess it runs in the family. I just wish I had inherited one good thing from my parents, but it seems like I only inherited the bad. I really thought I was going to have hair like my mom. She didn't discover her first grey hair until she was like 50 or something. I was pretty put out when I discovered mine a year ago. I always said that I wouldn't give in to the pressure to dye my hair once I started going grey. I said I would just let it all go naturally. I also said I would not give in to the pressure to cut my hair short once I hit a certain age. I'm still holding on to that one, but I don't know if I can picture myself with long grey hair. I feel old enough as it is, you know? It's funny how something so natural can feel so...wrong. It doesn't seem right that I am aging. It doesn't seem right that everything feels like it's going downhill before my real life has even started.

It may be pretty obvious from my blog, but I'm having a hard time finding anything to be happy about. And some days, it just doesn't seem like it's worth it. Some days...

What to do...

So, the disaster waiting to happen never happened. I was freaked out for nothing. And my bf didn't get to see his brother. Or meet his nieces and nephews. They came all the way to this province only to do their thing in another city, and turn around and go home. They were only three hours away as opposed to fourteen, and his brother didn't even bother. I can't say I'm not enormously relieved that they didn't come. But it sucks that my bf cancelled his holidays so that he could stay here and see them, only for them to not show. Now it's too late for him to book holidays.

And then there's me. I was so stressed about this for two weeks. Everyday I would learn something different about the situation, and if I was going to go home I had to ask for the time off sooner rather than later. So I have the time off, starting really, really soon, and I do want to see my family, but now it's a bad time. I feel bad for taking off on the bf when he is apparently unable to go anywhere, and to top it off, my hometown is on Evacuation Alert due to surrounding wildfires. There's an air quality warning because of the smoke, and my parents don't want to leave anytime soon to come here like I suggested. They were also disappointed about the timing of my potential visit because apparently what they actually wanted, was a little family reunion with my sister and brother-in-law in another city, at the end of the month. Now I have no idea what to do. I don't know if I can change my vacation time and I'm not sure I want to change it even if I can. I want to go home, but I don't want to breathe in smoke.

I am going to scream. I want a vacation. A real vacation. Where I do stuff. And have fun. But all I ever do on my time off is go home to visit the parents. I was hoping to make the best of it this time, and try to arrange camping and hiking and all sorts of outdoorsy-type stuff. But that's out due to the air quality.

What to do...

Much Needed Rant Otherwise Known as FML

I've been in an anti-social-loner-rut for as long as I can remember. I sometimes wonder how I got this way. I was always the odd kid who didn't talk. I've been told to smile more since pre-Kindergarten. I've been terrified of social interaction since pre-Kindergarten. This made school stressful. I was horrified at the idea of public speaking. Of being called on in class. I know where the expression "painfully shy" comes from, because the anxiety experienced from social situations was actually physically painful at times. The sweats, the stomach cramps, the racing heart beat, the shakes. I had it all. Over time, these reactions dulled a bit, but never really went away.

The fact that I don't play well with others, posed a problem in college and university. At first, the roommate arrangement was not too bad. There was an adjoining bathroom with one other person. This was how I lived at the college dorm for two years. But then I moved on to university, where living in the dorms meant sharing everything but your toothbrush with three other people. This was a predictable disaster. The building I lived in happened to be THE place to party, and it just so happened that our dorm in particular, at the end of the hall, was party central. Plus, I couldn't stand my roommates. The situation only lasted one semester before I absolutely had to get out. So I rented a tiny basement suite off-campus and lived by myself for the next five years or so. Though it was a little cramped, it was pretty much perfect for me.

I miss my solitude. And I'm living with one person. It's tolerable, Except that he comes with a lot of baggage, and that baggage is what some normal-types like to call "family". Every summer I dread the day that some faction of his family will impose themselves on us. And they always do. But it doesn't even need to be summer. The last incident was a few months ago. His sister, her husband and their son and daughters and their boyfriends came for a surprise visit. They showed up in the middle of the night to say "Surprise! Ten family members are here and will be staying with you for a week and a half!" It was 3:00 in the morning. Is it unreasonable of me to find this ridiculously rude and imposing? I could not imagine doing that even to my parents. By myself. Just showing up in the middle of the night at the Greyhound station or something and saying "surprise! now come get me and oh, by the way, i will be staying at your house for a week and a half."

So the latest drama that is my life is this: my bf has a brother that I've never met. I have only heard about him. Mostly horror stories. He lives with a woman who has been described as a crack-whore. Seriously. They have five kids, and a drug and alcohol habit, but are supposedly clean now. The only time big-brother calls (and at all hours) is to bum money and he is a notorious mooch. My bf hasn't taken a real vacation of any kind for a long, long time. The closest thing resembling a holiday would be accompanying me to my parents place for Christmas, and trust me, that is no holiday. He hasn't even done that in the last few years. So, he finally decides that for his birthday, he is going to take a road trip with his dad, to the city that holds the rest of his family. He called his brother to tell him this. The next day his brother calls and says, "oh, you can't come here, I'm coming to your city and staying with you." His whole freakin' family is going to stay at our house. My bf et al are betting that once he gets here, he won't leave. That they will stay for a minimum of one month because he will be between "pay cheques". My home will no longer be my home.

I don't know what to do. I feel I don't have enough alone time as it is, living with my bf. I cannot handle having his whole family here. Maybe it would be different if they weren't so imposing. Maybe it would be different if I didn't know his brother was a mooch. Maybe it would be different if I didn't know the mother of this guy's children was a thief. Or if the kids were well-behaved. But everyone knows this is going to be a disaster. I've been mostly keeping my mouth shut on the matter because I don't want to say something really hurtful that I will regret.

I feel angry. And trapped. And every time something like this comes up I feel like I'm being hit over the head by Captain Obvious saying "Hello! This is not your life! This is not how it was supposed to be!" But do I ever listen?

I'm left feeling like I just want to run away. In fact, a co-worker has offered for me to stay with her during this fiasco. I was thinking that maybe I would try and take my vacation days for when they are here, and visit home. I've been thinking of going back for a while now. I have to figure this out soon though. Supposedly, they will be here on the 31st.

Summer Panic

It is mini-Friday at work and as per usual, I am wishing I were just about anywhere but here.

I'm beginning to panic about summer. Because well, it's already the end of July and I feel like it hasn't begun. Then I start thinking about how autumn is just around the corner, and while I really like autumn, I do not like the not-so-subtle reminder that winter is on it's way.

I am the world's worst planner when it comes to my personal life. For some reason, the idea of making plans for the future, of any kind, even the fun kind, like vacation plans, practically has me breaking out in a sweat. I think it's because of my inability to make decisions. Anxiety takes over the decision-making process, every time. Every decision I'm faced with becomes life or death. What if I make the wrong decision? Take a different route home and get stuck in traffic? Order something unfamiliar from the drive-thru and not like it? Make vacation plans and then something better comes along? Such trivial things but decisions, big and small, leave me feeling trapped. In my own little bubble of course.

Life is passing me by. I know this. I feel it in my bones. Yet, I haven't been able to make a change. I was discussing my ambivalence with a friend last week, and she asked when the last time was that I was absolutely sure about something. And sure enough to do something about it. To act on it. Moved to take action. And I realized it was seven years ago when I knew it was time for me to leave the small town I had called home for seven years. It was like somebody had just flipped a switch in my brain, or like the light finally came on. Everything clicked at once. I was finished university. I was finished the short-term contract job I had been working. There was still the matter of a relationship that was going nowhere, but my sudden urge to leave town eventually took care of that. I just knew that I had to get out. Unfortunately, this sudden clarity only had negative consequences, but still, I want that clarity back. I left town, I met somebody new, and I started over. And everything fell into place so easily, like the universe was telling me, "yes, finally, you have done something right. This was how it was meant to be." And then the universe gave me the finger, and said, "what are you stupid? i was kidding."

Transformative Thunder

The weather seems bi-polar this year. It will go from being extremely hot and humid to a rain storm in the same day, at least a couple of times a week. Today, it is thunderstorm weather, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to let up. I wonder if that is why I keep dreaming of tornadoes. I do like waking up to the sound of the rain pounding on the rooftop, and the sound of thunder rolling in as if from a whole other universe. Like it’s going to bring with it something new and amazing - something out of this world. That’s why it’s all the more difficult to wake up and go to work - just another mundane day. This morning, I just wanted to lie there and soak in this new energy and hope that it will transform me into something new. Something better.

So here it is Friday again, and so far, I have no plans. Last weekend, I decided on Plan A: OK Go concert with drummer boy and a bunch of people I don’t know. I had fun for the most part, though I’m still a little confused about drummer boy’s motivations. Every time I think I know, he does something to make me question what I thought I knew to be true. I am back to believing that he has no romantic interest in me whatsoever. He’s just really, really affectionate. If it were any other guy, I would say he’s giving off some pretty strong signals. But this is drummer boy: he who hugs a lot and rubs shoulders and places hand on smalls of back, a lot. Some might even say excessively. After the concert, four of us went out for sketchy Chinese food in sketchy Chinatown. I didn’t feel very well so I didn’t eat much. But let me just say, Black Pepper Beef is the shit. It doesn’t seem to be on the usual take-out menus. So, after Chinese food, I was Shanghai’d into driving drummer boy home. He talked my ear off for probably 45 minutes as we sat parked in front of his house. And in this 45 minutes, I would say there was a good 8 minutes of hugging. It was because he said he was leaving three times, and each time he needed a hug. A very long hug. He did explain that he likes to see people’s reactions to his extended hugs. But it does make me wonder if he ever gets into trouble this way.

Okay. Enough about drummer boy. Geez.

Like the weather, I can’t seem to make up my mind about a lot of things. Most importantly, I can’t decide whether or not to give up. Sometimes I feel a sense of hope, but then I always snap back to what seems to be my reality: despair. There is not a single area of my life that is satisfactory. If our lives are divided into four equally important areas - spiritual, physical, social, and emotional, I am lacking in every one. I feel spiritually empty, or confused at best, I have chronic pain and no energy, I’m socially awkward, and we all know I’m emotionally unbalanced. So where does that leave me? I will have to write more on this later.

Weekend Anxiety

So the weekend is here (it's less than an hour to closing time) and I still don't know what I'm doing tonight. I feel I should go out but I don't really want to, and I feel like I have to go out because there's a certain someone whom I live with that I really don't want to spend time with this weekend. Soon I will have an anxiety-ridden meltdown.

I can a)go to an OK Go concert tonight with people I barely know, if there are still tickets available like they were last night, b) go bar-hopping all over the avenue to check out a bunch of mini-concerts, but by myself, or c)spend a miserable evening at home trying to avoid talking about why I'm in such a pissy mood.

I'm so tired right now, and I have a headache, I really just want to sleep it off. But I'm pretty sure that's out of the question.

Everyone I know is either camping this weekend, or is involved in the infamous and oh-so-cliche bachelor party shenanigans. Of course, if I had more friends, (real friends, not co-worker friends or friends-with-my-boyfriend-friends) then I wouldn't be having this dilemna right now.

I think maybe that's my attraction to drummer boy. I want a real friend. All my own. And he is sweet. And obviously caring. He's a music-lover. And a musician. And I just want him to make me feel better. Is that pathetic? He is going to this concert tonight. He's going with a bunch of his friends, and it just sort of came up last minute on Facebook last night. Now I'm not sure I will be comfortable hanging out with just him and his friends. I will feel like an intruder. Like I'm imposing myself. (Would that make me an imposter?)

And to top it all off, I have nothing to wear. Seriously. I need to go shopping. But I'm afraid there won't be time.

Why do weekends have to be so complicated?

Surreal

Tomorrow after work, my boyfriend and I will be visiting his aunt. Her husband was Bill. Just thinking about her last night brought me to tears. I can't even imagine, and I don't want to imagine being in her shoes. It was so sudden. People always say that but it's true. He fell down a few stairs, hit his head, and was in a coma. His brain was bleeding. There was no hope of recovery. The decision was made by the doctors to take him off life support. Apparently the accident happened around two in the morning on Saturday night/Sunday morning. My boyfriend and I were at the hospital with Bill and the family from about 5:00 AM. It was the worst 9 hours of my life. I can't imagine what it was like for his wife and children, and mother. His elderly mother took a flight here to watch her 55 year old son die. Bill's wife loved him so much. She was wailing and crying so hard she couldn't breathe. Her chest hurt. Because he was ripping her heart out. That's what she said. She leaned over his body and cried over and over, "don't do this to me, I can't do this, don't leave me". The most heart-wrenching thing I've ever seen. Thinking about it now is making me really cry. It was all so surreal. He was just lying there, but there was no visible injuries and his life support kept him breathing regularly and his blood pumping, so he looked...healthy. So it was hard to accept that he wasn't really there anymore. I heard the doctor say that only his brain stem was functioning. We were all there when he took his last breath. That was hard. Really, really hard.

His wife is not handling this so well. When people come over to see her, she just stays locked away in her bedroom and she won't stop crying. I don't know what to say to her. How we can make it better for her.

I didn't know I was going to write about this. But I don't really talk about it with anyone.

My Unattractive Tardiness

So here I am, bored at work again, and wisely using the time to do something other than be productive.

Last weekend, on the Friday, I met my proofreader and her boyfriend at my favourite music venue to watch a friend and his band. They left early because she was way too drunk, and after the bar closed, I went with a bunch of dudes to Denny's. I have not been to a Denny's since my college days. It brought back fond memories of going out to the bar with friends, and then needing to satisfy the munchies when nothing else was open. It's an interesting cross-section of society that ends up at Denny's in the middle of the night.

So as I mentioned, I've been having more difficulty getting out again and Friday was no exception. I was literally dreading it.

It doesn't make sense. I had plans to go to one of my favourite places, to do something I love doing and meet up with people I genuinely like. So why is it when the time comes, I always just want to hide under a rock and die? When I came home from work on Friday, I took one of my "I-don't-want-to-be-alive-right-now-so-I'm-just-going-to-take-a-nap-and-hope-the-world-goes-away-naps". This of course made me late and I missed some of their performance.

I didn't expect to see this guy, who is a drummer in another band, but he was sitting at our table. Here I was, trying not to be too hard on myself for being late, when this guy, we'll call him D, gave me a hard time about it. I told him, that was just me, it's my thing. His response? "Tardiness is a very unattractive quality", to which I responded "Did you just call me unattractive?" Despite my apparent unattractiveness he was extremely affectionate all night. He is probably the most flirtatious, affectionate guy I have ever met. Now I have people reading too much into his behaviour. And it makes me wonder. And it makes me think of things I shouldn't think about. Did I mention that he is actually a really, really good boy? Like hypothetically speaking, his only motivation for wanting to be with me would have to be to save me? I can just see him asking me out on a date, to his church, and me having to explain why I musn't enter for fear of bursting into flames.

So this weekend there is a music festival taking place along a popular avenue. There will be concerts of all kinds going on all day and all night at pretty much every bar along the avenue. You pay thirty bucks for a wristband for the whole weekend. I'm still not sure if I'm going. But it sounds pretty fun.

I guess we shall see.

The Devil's On Vacation

The Beast is on vacation from the Hell Mouth, as of today. The Beast is of course, my insane boss, and the Hell Mouth, well, it's been my fond nickname for my place of employment for a long while. Words cannot describe how much less tension there is when she is not around. Her office is directly behind mine, and there is a window. She of course has blinds that she can close any time she chooses, which is never, so pretty much everyday I feel like I'm in a little glass box for her to keep an eye on. Since she's not here, I figured I can find better use for my time than work. (It's really slow today.) It sucks that anybody has to be here today at all, as yesterday was Canada Day (a stat holiday). We have to come in for one day before the weekend. Unless your're the Beast. She's in Shanghai.

I've been having difficulties with being social again. Well, truthfully, it didn't really get any easier, but I was kind of on a roll, you know? It's so easy to just slip back into a loner-rut. My co-worker wanted to do something yesterday for the holiday, but I didn't text her like I said I would, so we didn't do anything. The best part of my day yesterday (other than not being here at work)was going for authentic pizza. Oh my Goddess. It was so delicious. The thin crust, the homemade pizza sauce made with fresh tomatoes, the sizzling and spicy Italian meat. Heaven. I will definately have to eat there again.

Other than that, it was kind of a dud. We didn't take in any of the festivities. Not even the fireworks. Guess I'm just not that patriotic.

Tonight I'm supposed to see a band at my favourite music venue because a co-worker is the drummer. I've tried to obtain something resembling a commitment from my significant other as to what we will do tonight, but he has not given me his answer yet. I don't really feel up to going, but I know if I do not, I will end up having a really boring, guilt-ridden night. Guilt-ridden because, in my head, I will use my writing as an excuse to stay home, (hopefully alone), but in reality I will eat junk food, watch Stargate Atlantis, and possibly end the night early by falling asleep on the couch with my contacts in.

So yeah. Guess I'm going out tonight. Look at that, I just made a decision.

Truth

The funeral was on Friday. It was at the Legion. The most important portion of the service was the contributions made by family and friends who shared a little piece of how their lives had been touched by this man.

We heard from a son just how much his father meant to him. We heard about those lectures that went on and on, every weekend, and how they always ended with "I love you" and then were forgotten about - until next weekend.

We heard from a step-daughter who couldn't speak without sobbing about this man who was no longer here. Who let us all know how lucky she had been to have had two sets of parents.

We heard stories from a friend about how this man never complained, ever. Not about living with one arm paralyzed after a run-in with a moose. Not about his night-blindness that he knew would eventually steal his vision altogether.

We heard humorous stories from more than one person about how he would walk into inanimate objects and apologize to them.

And we heard from the man that was first married to his wife. We heard how this man called up "the ex" and directly asked where he stood with him. How he always asked for his input on raising his step-daughter. And we heard how grateful he was that this man came into his ex-wife's life. How grateful he was to have found a new friend.

This was Bill. I met him when I was a teenager. He was my best friend's step-dad. But it wasn't until I moved to this city that I came to know him. I was apprehensive about spending time with him because most of what I knew of him came from the angst of a teen. To be honest, I was pretty sure he was a bully and a big jerk.

Many years later I would see him again at my best friend's wedding. This also happened to be where I met her close cousin, now my boyfriend of six years. I was completely taken aback at how welcome Bill made me feel. I wasn't in the wedding party. I didn't hold this against her. I was living in a different province after all, and honestly, we had grown apart over the years. But Bill seemed to take it personally, and he just wouldn't let it go. He could not understand why I was not the maid-of-honour. I was secretly pleased.

I will never forget how he tried to shelter me from his nephew. Everybody watched and laughed as my best friend's cousin would inch closer and closer to me on the couch, and I would inch closer and closer to the edge of the couch until there was no where left for me to go. How Bill, half joking, half serious, told him to "leave her alone! She's a nice girl!" How he told me over and over how beautiful I was, inside and out. This changed as he got to know me of course, but he always let me know that he cared. He always made me feel like I was a part of his family.

Even on those bad nights.

Over time, my opinionated-nature came out around Bill, who was also very opinionated. And stubborn. And sometimes a little belligerent when drinking. I was not the only one left with memories of arguments, some more bitter than others. I remember one night, we were all drinking at his house, and somehow Bill and I got into it over something I don't even remember. Whatever it was, it resulted in Bill saying something pretty mean, that really touched a nerve. I locked myself in the bathroom and cried until Bill somehow unlocked the door and hugged me and took it all back.

It was impossible to hold a grudge against Bill. It's true that I had once again become a little apprehensive about spending time with him. You just never knew what would come out of his mouth next. But this didn't change what I had come to know as his truth.

And his truth was love. Whatever else happened, you always knew that one fact.

That he loved. A lot. And he was loved. A lot. And that's a truth that will never die.

We love you Bill.

Cosmic Failure

Okay, I haven't written in a while. So here goes.

It's 9:08 in the evening. I am currently listening to Blue Foundation. I'm considering leaving my office chair to purchase some items from the liquor store: vodka and triple sec. Yes, that's right folks, I am considering a Cosmo thanks to my Savi friend ;-)

So what have I been up to other than moping, crying and generally freaking out? Not much. On the music front I've only been to one event - a fundraiser featuring a co-worker in a great local band. We stuck around for their set and another band's but didn't stick around after that.

Tomorrow I'm going with my co-worker B, to watch a different friend participate in Round 3 of a province-wide battle-of-the-bands type thing. He's a great musician and has agreed to give me beginner guitar lessons! Yay! I decided to ask him first before going somewhere else. I think he will be a great teacher and as a bonus I can help support a friend. So it's a win-win.

I had a huge blow-out with my insane boss the other day. I knew it was coming. I don't feel like delving in to the boring details but I left her office knowing that I am finally ready to move on from the nut-house. Course, the anxiety I am going to experience as a result of this revelation may send me to an actual nut-house, but whatev. At least I will be out of there.

-

So, here's the thing. I made my Cosmo last night. Had a few sips and fell asleep. With my contacts in. And the lights and the television on. I woke up at 6:00 AM feeling like crap. Slept for a few hours more.

So my Cosmo was a completely fail. I will have to try harder tonight.

Anyway, I'm still plugging away at my second draft. I once thought I would really enjoy the editing process. But I have to say, I was wrong. It's slow and tedious and frustrating.

And it's how I'm spending my day.

Off to editing drudgery.

Stake Through the Heart

I'm sitting in my favourite place to go for lunch and have ordered a vegetarian stir fry. I left a little earlier than usual because I honestly think if I stayed another minute I would have had a melt down. I guess I already had a little one. I sat in the bathroom for 10 minutes alternating between crying and trying not to cry. Finally I just said "fuck it. I'm getting out of here".

It was very difficult to get out of bed this morning, like it is every morning. I even got more sleep than usual because I know being really tired amplifies everything. But it didn't help. I open my eyes and the first thing I think about is why do I bother? The first thing I think of doing is putting a stake through my heart. One that's long enough to go right through my chest and pin me to the bed I feel so trapped in.

Well my food is here now. One of the reasons I like coming to this place is because of the Thai radio station they usually listen to, which I find oddly soothing, and the fact that I'm usually alone in here. The ambience is different today.

I think I'm listening to The Backstreet Boys.

Okay. Must eat. May write later.

Things get better with food, right?

Automatic Thoughts

My monster is back with a vengeance. All I can do is look around me at the people all going about there day like there's some kind of point to it. But there isn't. Not really. At least not for me.

I don't know how many times in a day I have those automatic thoughts of death: suicide, horrible accident, just plain giving up and turning to dust. But they seem to be my constant companion now.

The Social Experiment Continues

The MP3 Experiment was...interesting. Good wholesome family fun. I think it would have been more enjoyable if I had been drunk. Or at least a little tipsy. But I would definitely be interested in doing something like that again. It was this improv group that was involved with the Public Library, in an effort to recruit more patrons I guess. We had Edward the Omnipotent voice on our MP3 players giving us strange instructions. We did it in the Square and it was a lot of pretending to be a statue and shaking hands with strangers and the like. It was funny. It would have been funnier if we had spread out around town so that we could encounter people who had know idea what in the Hell we were doing. But, it was a fun hour or so.

The same person who conned me into the MP3 Experiment, B, has me going paddling with her next week. Can't wait. I know my arms are going to want to fall off afterwards because I am so out of shape. It's not that I'm not trying. It's just the universe always seems to want to mess with me. I get into the working out thing, and then I get sick for two and a half weeks, or my boyfriend's insane family comes to visit and stays forever...then I'm out of my routine and it feels like starting all over again. Speaking of, I'm on Day 2 of starting all over again.

So, on April 26, I went to Band of Skulls. It was amazing. I love these guys. I mean really love them. I may have a girl crush on the bass player. She rocks. Opening for Band of Skulls was Saint Hotel and Silver Starling. Both were pretty great, though I favoured the latter. And it just makes it all the better that they apparently are connected to Arcade Fire. Yay! I love Arcade Fire. According to the paper, "Frontman Marcus Paquin engineered and mastered albums for the band, and his wife, Marika Anthony-Shaw — Silver Starling’s keyboardist/violinist — played viola on Arcade Fire’s Neon Bible tour." I had so much fun that night. I was a little worried my mood wouldn't make way for the awesomeness that is Band of Skulls, but by the second opening act, my mood had greatly improved, and by the time BOS got on stage, I was all smiles. Literally. I couldn't remove the giant grin from my face. I was pretty giddy. Too bad for me it was a Monday. Work the next day was Hell.

Next on the Social Experiment agenda:Paddling with B on Tuesday, then my friend from university days is coming to town and staying with me for a couple of days starting Thursday. I hope to drag her to an event on Friday, called Funky vs Fresh, as someone I use to work with is going to be playing there with his band.

Book Update: I have made a little more progress on my second draft. I am now on page 53. Out of 318 pages.

Check out Silver Starling, my title links to "Ghosts".

The Social Experiment

Today I puked just before leaving for work. I decided to call in and say I'm not feeling well just in case it happens again. So here I am at home, making playlists that remind me of my story and writing. The title of the blog links to my latest playlist.

I am happy to say that the last couple of days I have been working on the second draft of my book. The down side is, I'm on page 16 out of 318 pages, and it took me hours to get that far. Oh well, at least I feel like I'm making progress. I decided to work on the stuff that doesn't stress me out and overwhelm me first. Then at least it will be more coherent before I start really dissecting it.

On Friday I went to my sorta friend's place and stayed the night there with her and her four year old son. I was worried that it would feel really awkward because we have only hung out once and it was because we had a mutual friend who came to visit from Toronto. But it actually wasn't that bad. I'm not really that comfortable around kids, so I was also worried about that, but this little guy was such a charmer. It was a relaxing time. I came over after work and supper was ready for me. We had a pasta and vegan sausage. We went for a walk and went out for ice cream then we watched Dr. Horrible because I'm obsessed and will eventually be able recite the entire three acts. We had a couple of glasses of red wine and discussed how crazy we are. In the morning she made organic vegan orange poppy-seed pancakes with sunflower seeds. Yum. We went for a long walk and then I was on my way home.

On Saturday we had a friend and his daughter over for supper. It was the first time we lit up the BBQ this year. Nothing is better than the smell of BBQ. I love it. It's funny, I think it probably has the same effect on a lot of people. Like everyone has at least one happy memory associated with a barbecue, and this feeling is conjured whenever we smell sizzling meat. I find it comforting.

This upcoming Friday I am taking part in something called the MP3 Experiment. Should be a good time. I heard it was something that started in New York? Basically, everyone involved downloads an MP3 off this website and we're not allowed to listen to it until a certain time on Friday. Then in a public place at a specific time, everyone listens to the MP3 with earphones and has to do whatever it says. Should be pretty funny. The co-worker I took to see Matthew Barber sucked me into it. She's always involved in these funny little projects. It's my first time.

So that's where I'm at right now. Still taking part in the social experiment. Trying to spend time with actual humans, trying to have fun, trying to make some sort of progress. Not sure what to think of it all right now.

I'm going to do some editing on my book, and then if I'm feeling better I will go to work. I swear it. Seriously.

Ugly Truths

So the free tickets for Bare Naked Ladies fell through. I should have known that anything arranged by my boyfriend's sister wouldn't work out. I guess that's okay, since I haven't really listened to them since high school. I just thought it would be nice to take in a free concert of a band that I don't normally listen to. My co-worker asked if I wanted to go see The Cat Empire in July. I'm not sure I want to yet. Their music just seems so happy.

Today, my work day started out with my insane boss screaming her head off for about 45 minutes. I'm not even exaggerating. This guy admittedly makes a fair amount of mistakes at his job, but there is just never any excuse to yell at an employee as if they were five years old. It's humiliating, and she's done it to us all at one time or another. Well, I don't think she's actually yelled at me while we are alone in the same room, she seems to know better, to know that I wouldn't take that shit from her. But she has yelled at me amongst a group of us lucky employees. It just makes me so angry.

There's nothing fair about the way things are done at my place of employment. Some employees seem to get away with a lot, and others, like today's victim, seem to be constantly bullied, picked on, singled-out and used as the scapegoat. It's just such a ridiculous place to work. Absolutely ridiculous.

So why don't I look for other work? Well because that would be logical, and I am nothing if not illogical, at least in the decisions I make. My thoughts are actually very logical, at least I think they are. It's my actions that don't make sense. Basically, what I've realized is that I stay in the mouth of Hell (as I like to call it), because I do benefit from it in some way. Despite the stress, despite the unfairness and the craziness and the ridiculousness and the lack of professionalism, there are some benefits to staying. I have internally weighed the pros and cons (see, very logical): the stress of staying in the mouth of Hell, versus the stress of looking for another job and starting again as a new employee. Also, I do get away with some things that probably wouldn't fly elsewhere. For instance, I am constantly late, my lunch hour seems to be pretty flexible, I can roll my eyes and glare at people all I want without being reprimanded, I can dress as casually as I want, and most people seem to be able to take a month long vacation every summer. I haven't tested that last one out yet, as I can't afford it. These silly little perks are all I have. If I had a job that I actually cared about, none of those things would matter of course.

The thing is, when it comes to real life, I am really, really bad at it. I can't emphasize that enough. I can't even give all the details of how badly I have sabotaged my own future. Even though this blog is anonymous, I can't admit it in writing, how much of a failure I am. This relates to my job situation because I have a mental breakdown every time I have to look for a job, and I'm not sure I can do it anymore. I make myself physically sick over it. The anxiety is too much. Just the thought of sitting in a interview makes my hair stand on end, and gives me a sick feeling. My resume was decent at one time, but it was always the interview that got me. I have never been good at faking it, and I feel that's what I have to do at interviews. Because really, who wants to hire a moody, depressed loner?

So there you have it. I would rather stay at my dead-end job than look for another. This has been at the back of mind for a while. I didn't want to admit to anyone, or myself, why I stayed at this job that I'm constantly complaining about. But that is the ugly truth. I stay because I want to.

Points of Light and Everyday Life

What was the most interesting thing about my day today? That's hard to say, there's just so much to choose from: there's being at work and checking emails, assigning dockets, answering really stupid questions on the phone; being late for work as usual, not taking a lunch break, having a pounding headache....

Today, like a lot of days, was pretty much boring, boring, boring. I would have to say the highlight of my day was having Japanese take-out for dinner, though I didn't have much of an appetite, and making this playlist for my blog.

It's strange. My life is like a movie (a really odd, boring, pointless movie). The moments that I spend outside of myself, the movie is on play: I feel kind of okay, I may even be having fun (something I'm trying to have more of lately), but as soon as the event stops, I slip back inside myself and the movie is on pause, and I'm left holding the remote control, unable to do anything but stare blankly at the unmoving image on the screen.

I don't know if I'm making any sense. But lately I've been having brief moments where I feel okay, and you would think these moments would break apart and start to infiltrate my everyday life, but they don't. They're still just isolated points of light.

Dead Tired

I was dead tired today. Actually, I'm dead tired just about everyday. I don't understand it. At work today, I was actually contemplating just spreading out on the dirty floor and closing my eyes, and I knew that I would be able to just pass out right then and there. Did I mention I hate Mondays?

In other news, I received free tickets to go see the Bare Naked Ladies this week. I haven't actually listened to any of their albums since high school (which is way way too long ago), but hey, a free to ticket to a concert is not a bad thing.

On Friday, I am going to visit a 'friend' I have only really hung out with once. And since she lives way out of town, and has a four year old child, I'm heading there after work for a little sleepover. I've been promised pancakes so I'm hopeful it will all work out. Of course, I'm not really looking forward to it.

I've been trying to force myself to be more active these days in the hopes that something will ignite inside me again. I don't get it. I have been doing some things right. This past 6 months I've been exercising more, this past year I've been eating better, I've been trying to do things I enjoy, which is basically concerts, I've been trying to be more social, and I've been trying to release some of my feelings via this blog. In the last couple of years I've completed a first draft of a novel, which is at least something.

But here I am, still me. Still depressed. Still paralyzed with indecision and fear. I guess I will just keep trying? It's either that or lie down and die, right?

I Just Wanna Get In The Sun Again

This is a song called Fix My Brain, by a one-man-band called Brad Sucks. The title links to the song. It's a great song; it makes me think of my own brand of crazy. Officially, I suffer from Major Depression, with a bit of anxiety thrown in there for good measure. Unofficially, I think I have just a little piece of every mental disorder there is. And when you put all these pieces together, it's my brain. It's what makes me, me.

I have to wonder, if my depression were ever cured, would there be anything left? Because the thing is, I can't tell it from me.

rubber rooms and taking funny pills
filling up on notes and dollar bills
it’s the price you pay for feeling okay
you’re the strangest girl i’ve ever met
sending weird signals to my head
i’ve been thinking about fixing my brain
but i’m afraid i won’t feel the same
cause baby it’s all i do
i’ve been thinking about fixing my brain
but i’m afraid i won’t feel the same
cause baby it’s all i do
spending more and more time up in bed
thinking ‘bout the things i think you said
it’s been on my mind and it’s hard to find
bad habits come and come and go
i’m afraid my mind is getting slow
i swear it’s not so hard to understand
i just wanna get in the sun again sun again
i swear it’s not so hard to understand
i just wanna get in the sun again sun again

Doppelganger

So a couple of days ago I forced myself to ask a coworker if she was interested in going out on the weekend. I went and bought the tickets yesterday, and tonight we went to see Matthew Barber, with guests Zachary Lucky and Amy Seeley, at this little hidden gem of a music venue. Just before leaving for the show, when I was desperately trying to find something to wear, I thought, why did I do this? I just wanted to crawl into bed and stay there. But I'm glad I went. Matthew Barber was delicious to listen to, and not bad to look at either. The only unfortunate thing? In person, he looked uncannily like my ex.

I have not seen my ex since we broke up six years ago. I was just thinking about him the other day. My boyfriend had asked me if I still loved him. I gave him an awkward but honest answer, which was, how can anyone be sure until they've come face-to-face once again? A person could go years pining over someone they have loved and lost, and then suddenly come face-to-face with Him and realize that all this time they had simply been in love with a memory; that when it came to the real thing, the magic that had held them together was gone. I believe it goes the other way too. A person could go years believing that they are over it, that they are no longer in love, and then suddenly come face-to-face with Him and in that heart-crushing moment realize that moving on was only an illusion brought on by absence.

My reaction to His doppelganger up there on that stage, when he sat down to the piano, and sang his beautiful songs, with the beautiful face and hands and body of Him, took me off-guard. I couldn't help but cry, just a little bit, as I tried ever so hard to look anywhere but at Him. Worse, was that I seemed to be in his direct line of vision. It felt like we kept making eye-contact and every time we did, I wanted to hide under my table and cry like a baby. Well, in all honesty, I alternated between that, and wanting to jump up on to the stage for a tackle-hug.

What does it mean? That I'm still being stalked by His memory? A not-so-subtle hint that I haven't really moved on?

Or something more?

Deep Breaths

Ever have a job where it feels like everything you do is for nothing? This is where I'm at. And not just because essentially all I really do is shuffle paper all day long and have my soul sucked out by my computer, but because most everyone around me is doing something counter-productive.

Seriously, one day I will record this shit and make millions out of the weirdo antics of my co-workers, or more specifically my multiple bosses. I swear to you, it would be more entertaining than The Office, and dare I say it, more hilarious than Office Space.

Of course, it's only funny in retrospect. At the time, these antics are less funny, and more provoking of homicidal thoughts.

Deep breaths...

Hope & Chocolate

I don't remember the last time I went home for Easter. I miss Easter. I find myself wishing I were back home. Beautifully coloured eggs, chocolate bunnies, and of course, the most important part, the Easter egg hunt. It was always a competition between my older sister and I. And after our own little family hunt, we would go to my grandparents, and my crazy uncle Bob would be our pretend Easter bunny, and he would hide countless golf balls on the property, and me, my sister and my cousins would have another hunt before the grand Turkey Dinner. Such amazing times I took for granted.

I really miss being a kid, and what I miss most about it is the mystery. The feeling that anything could happen, that anything is possible. The excitement of going to sleep one night to find that something magical had happened, right in your own backyard. That a mythical creature that should not logically exist, DOES exist, and the proof is in the chocolate. I miss those days when I truly believed that I was something really special. In fact, I believed I was a superhero. I believed there was some untapped resource inside me that would just wake up one day and change the world.

Only that never happened. I'm not a superhero. I haven't saved the world. I haven't even saved myself. I want that feeling back. Hope. I've lived without it for so long. But lately, every now and again, a little something wakes up inside and tries to ignite. But it doesn't take. Not yet.

Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life. ~Berthold Auerbach

Okay. Here's my Spring Resolution: I will write something everyday, no matter how mundane, right here on this blog. So what shall I write about today?

On March 30th, 2010, I had the privilege of seeing my musical heroes put on the most amazing show EVER. Muse. The concert was EPIC. I loved every moment of it. There is just something about their music that is so stirring. Their music is larger than life and so was the memorable performance they created at the concert. Matthew Bellamy's voice was absolutely flawless. I was jumping up and down like a teen at a Twilight convention. Why can't I feel that good all the time?

One thing I've learned about myself is that music makes me happy. Or sad. But always...sort of... satisfied? I've been trying to get out and go to more concerts, preferably small venue shows, because it seems to be one of the few things that makes me feel good. I was so happy to see Band of Skulls in September and was introduced to a wonderful and unique band from Saskatchewan, called Violent Kin. I am stoked that Band of Skulls is once again coming to my city and I can't wait to see them again! I think Violent Kin is also coming back this summer.

A couple years back I was blown away by the awesomeness that is Sea Wolf. I've listened to the album Leaves In the River many, many times, and one of their songs on that album reminds me so much of my story, (the one, I pretend to work on now and again). I love that music can do that. Just take you into another world, that may not even be the one they intended for you to see, but still acts as a portal to something out of your own imagination. The opening band that night was a band from New York called The Jealous Girlfriends. My favourite song of theirs is Secret Identity.

I've been sick for a week and a half, and am considering legally changing my name to the Magically-Mucous-Producing Monster. Yeah, that's right. It's a hyphenated name. Seriously though, where does it all come from??

I watched Clash of the Titans today. Though I was perfectly happy to sit and watch a movie instead of work, I think when you find yourself getting bored between action sequences, it's a bad sign. I suspect it has something to do with my lack of a penis, as the three boys I was with today seemed to thoroughly enjoy it.

I've decided (if I ever save a bit of money) that I will finally take the guitar lessons I've been meaning to take since I picked up a guitar seven years ago. My dad actually made me a guitar. His first attempt. It was this really heavy, but really tiny little thing that was made just for me. I no longer have it. He took it back. He claims he wants to fix it up some more, but I think he just wants to keep his baby home. He has since made several guitars, and mandolins. But I have one of my own again, and I don't seem to have the motivation or self-discipline to learn past a certain point on my own. I like to write music. Lyrics. Melody. And it's frustrating when I can't go beyond a certain point when I know the sort-of-song I've created, demands it.

So, yeah. Guitar lessons. Soon.

Disturbed

So... I haven't tried editing my book since the last post.. (Isn't there an embarrassed Emoticon on this thing??)

Anyway, in other news....

Sharon is still in a flux of confusion. Will there ever be anything else? I'm in a relationship, that I have finally decided is going nowhere. I can't see a future with us together. Hell, I can't even see a future with myself. What's really sad is, we have gone from being a couple that fought constantly, because we were incompatible, to a couple who has given up even the fighting. We don't really argue anymore. It's like we've both just given up. He is miserable, I know. Why does he stay with me? Is it because he feels he can't have anybody else? Is it the pressures of getting older? I don't feel insulted by this, the idea that he might be staying with me because he feels he has no other choice. I feel I deserve this. I feel responsible for his misery. I feel that if we break up now, and he doesn't find anyone else, and start a family, that it will be my fault, for wasting his time. Never mind the fact that I have the same fears. Never mind the sick reasons that I must stay with him. And what are these reasons? I have become such a weak person. Ironic. I have aways had such a complex about being weak. Because of my size, maybe? People would always look at me and say aw.....so cute, and so fragile! I took offence to this. But it turns out to be true. I am weak. Emotionally. I am such a recluse, and yet I am afraid to be alone. How fucked up is that?

In addition to this, I seem to have an immense guilt complex, and I seem to feel guilty about this, because how arrogant is it of me, to feel so guilty about the idea of leaving him, that I just stay in this miserable relationship? I mean, people get over it. He would get over it. Where does this arrogance come from? But the fact remains, I cannot stand the idea of hurting him in the short term ... to think of it, makes me want to stab myself. Disturbing? Well, I sometimes think I am disturbed, so that fits. With every day that passes, I feel another step towards the end. And the worst of it is, I'm dragging him down with me. Why won't he just leave me?

My Really Ugly Baby

So this weekend I finally cracked open my novel to begin the painful editing process. I feel relieved that I am back to work on it, and somewhat encouraged, but in all honesty I have spent most of this "editing" time re-reading advice in various books and correcting the minor flaws that don't really worry me. But I guess I have to start somewhere, right?

I'm really struggling with point of view. I wrote my entire first draft in first person, past-tense point of view, but now I'm wondering if this is the best route to go. My character undergoes some pretty heavy changes, and I wonder if it would be best to change point of views so what she is thinking at the time remains a mystery, and also I wonder if maybe the real action is with some of the other characters...I don't know.

My sister tells me I should join a writer's group. And I do like the idea of a writer's group, but I'm pretty sure when it comes down to it, I would feel too awkward and insecure about my ideas. I would feel like a fraud. Then there's the irony of being over-protective of something I don't really seem to have faith in in the first place. My novel is like a really ugly baby: hard to look at, but I still love it and am afraid to let it go; afraid it will be judged unfairly by others who haven't loved and nurtured it as I have. Okay, maybe that's rude to ugly babies everywhere. Maybe I should compare it to a totally evil baby, but that's just plain creepy.... Regardless, it would still be nice to receive feedback and advice from people who have been there. Sigh.

Automatic Writing??

Sipping on a Caesar. It's not helping. I've been staring at my binder and my keyboard for approximately three hours. I have written three paragraphs. That's a paragraph an hour. Really? On top of that, I'm pretty sure I'm throwing those out. No, I'm not working on my novel. I'm working on a writing exercise given to me by a friend. These are the instructions:

Complete a page of automatic writing to one of 10 opening phrases.

Out of the ten, you're supposed to decide what jumps at you. The ones I chose were:

The most frightening person in my childhood was...

Was I anxious to grow up?

If I ever get a chance to avenge myself...

The person I wish I could bring back is...

You then brainstorm any ideas, images, words etc. and write them down in circles around the sentences. Then you make connections between those words, and then you write your story. Sounds simple right? Automatic writing....

There's nothing automatic about my writing. I don't know how to do that. I once heard Sarah McLachlin say that writing doesn't come easily for her, that it's like getting blood from a stone. I am somewhat comforted by this, because of I love Sarah McLachlin's music. The difference is, at the end of a hard day/week/month's writing, she is left with a piece of art. I am left with a piece of crap.

What to do, what to do...

Where To Go From Here

So...once again, it's been a very long time since I wrote last. I'd rather not give an update on my boring life just now. What I want is to rant about my lack of writing skills.

I've taken a long time off from my little book project. Did I mention that I've basically finished my first draft? Yeah, that was how many months ago? I've lost track. I decided to take some time off before I started working on my second draft. There was of course a completely logical reason for this. I've read that it's a good thing to do, to take time off between drafts, to clear your head, come back to your story with a fresh mind. Only, I'm not sure that's the real reason. What is the real reason? I don't know. That I'm a slacker? That I'm lazy? An under-achiever? Or maybe just not smart enough, or talented enough? Not creative enough. I felt hopeful for a little while, that maybe I had finally realized what I am meant to do with my life. I'm 32 and I still haven't come close to figuring that one out. Everyone I know has their shit together more than me. Okay, maybe not my drug-addicted cousin. But at least he's figured out that he needs rehab. I have no idea what I need.

My lack of motivation aside, I also have no idea how to go about working on my second draft. It needs a LOT of work. You can barely call it a story as it is now. It's a collection of scenes and when you put them all together, it's like a 500 page novel. But I'm not sure it even makes sense. I know there's a lot of scenes I need to add, and probably a lot of scenes I need to delete. I also know how I can re-work sentences to make them better and check my spelling. That is all obvious stuff. What I don't know, is how to make this story into a work of art. I don't want it to be just be some mediocre story. I want it to be brilliant. And then I get scared. Because then I start thinking about how not brilliant the premise of my story is. How not brilliant I am.

My anxiety and insecurities aside, I really don't know what to do! I feel so overwhelmed with the idea of re-working my story. There's too much information. Too many pages. Too many words. How can I keep it all straight? Then there's questions like, was it the right thing to do, to write this whole book from the first-person point of view of my main character? Or should I have mixed it up a bit? How much backstory of my major characters do I give? Did I give too much? Not enough? Did I deliver their stories in a really unimaginative way? I really just want to scream.

And speaking of wanting to scream, why do I feel so RESTLESS? I feel restless, but I feel tired. Always. I need a change, but I'm so afraid. And on that depressing note, I am going to sign out.