Saturday, 30 May 2015

Different Views

I thought this was an interesting contrast:

God's Universe (a comic by a Christian)
Not Perfect (a song by an atheist)

Night-time Wonderings

It's 3am and i woke up as i thought it might be a good idea to piss on a cane stool from my childhood home as the Violent Femmes played in the background. Conveniently i made it into wakefulness before i actually did any pissing! Maybe it's about how i haven't done the schoolwork that i should?

I'm wondering about how to write about my illness experiences. There's this double-edged feeling about whether it's a good idea or not: what if it inspires someone else to experience such terrible things? But what if it helps someone who already is not to feel alone, and provides insights into the psychotic mind? I'm leaning toward the latter. My other worry is: what if i slip back into that kind of thinking? I don't think i will, but it's a scary proposition.

I'm supposed to have been conducting a study on mental health and have failed miserably to get anything done. I think part of it is because of fears about my own health, but there's another procrastinatory issue too: some problem with doing what i think i really want to do. That perversity again. Maybe i have more in common with my two-and-a-half-year-old niece than i think?

Friday, 29 May 2015

Fish and Chips #2

So basically the grilled fish still seems to have batter on it, but it gets grilled instead of deep fried. I'm not convinced it's actually good for me, but i still like it better than deep fried!

I ate some chips today too, in addition to the salad. Think i'm gonna need a serious walk tomorrow.

Eternal Sunshine is playing in the background again:

"My crotch is still here, just as you remembered it!"


I actually had an experience when i was very sick, back in 2011, when it felt like my memories were being erased. I don't know if i can explain it tonight, but i will say that there's a couple of memories that i got extremely upset about the possibility of losing. It seems so much simpler in the movie, compared with what i experienced. Anyway there's a memory that i still seem to sort of have, despite my fears of losing it. It was very special.


I mentioned in another post how it seemed almost icky to think of being intimate with someone after having been single for so long. Thinking about having children, i was reminded how one of my friends had thought about babies as being icky. She now has two children, so i guess she got over that, too. It's interesting what we find to be icky!

Actually, with babies, i do have some fear... but it's mainly the fear of being left alone by the father. It's not something i want to do on my own! I was also thinking today about situations where i would have to be the breadwinner. That strikes me as being really hard... not the ideal scenario. I suppose some couples -- and single mums -- make it work.

Before my last relationship, i believed that relationships with anyone could be made to work. I don't believe that any more!

I still hope to get back to St Louis, and i like to imagine getting together with somebody there; someone who shares my beliefs. Perhaps it will be too late to have children? I would also love to adopt.

It's odd to talk about such a responsible thing after having that bender. I don't know what's going to happen. There are clearly some basics to get in place.

Thursday, 28 May 2015

Too Much

I don't know what to write tonight. Didn't want to talk to my mum at dinner. Somehow i have gotten through the day. The rash around my eyes is getting pretty crazy.

Smelling smells in the city, shaking, i wondered for a moment if i had crapped myself without realizing it.

I hadn't.

I'm feeling a little angry with myself for presenting as so pathetic. Sad that instead of making progress i've been having the biggest bender of my life. It's perverse, and it's too much.


Feeling pretty amazingly terrible.

Wednesday, 27 May 2015


I keep trying to post, with a topic, and it keeps not making sense.

Because i am a genius, this topic will make perfect sense of what i write :-)

Paul Simon sang about angels in the architecture and i'm thinking tonight about the angelic nature of a couple of my friends. It's pretty stunning, and entirely different in their cases. You couldn't get two more different people. Together they have made my life something entirely different from what it would have been.

Naivity and purity.


Really, though, i think something may be rotting in there. I haven't stopped belching all day. Better than Saturday's farting i guess (yep, that was my social outing for the week).

I went to the employment agency in the same clothes i vomitted on the other day, so things are pretty classy around here. I did manage to not pick my nose or hump my chair while i was there. Interestingly i talked to myself about the same amount that the other people did, and none of us felt like we were getting a whole lot of help. We helped each other a bit, so i felt okay about the visit. It's amazing what a bit of human contact can do to lift the spirit.


Something in me seems sated. I don't have the same urge to write, but i kind of want to record that, too.

What comes out when there's nothing to say?

Last night i watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind for the umpteenth time. Re-watching movies is something i started doing the year that my boyfriend left, i think. 2008. There was something very comforting about having my mind guided along by a movie as i cried, rather than letting it do its own morbid thing. Movies became friends, of sorts. Eventually i didn't cry so much, but still found it comforting to watch familiar films.

I think my guts are rotting from all the vodka. Or maybe it's the diet coke? Neither seems very good for me.

I have been single and celibate for seven years, and i'm starting to get used to it. Recently i've been thinking about the possibility of dating someone and it feels foreign, even a bit icky (though i imagine i'd get over that fairly quickly!) For six years i've had a crush on the same guy, but it's run a very complicated and convoluted course of feelings, as i suppose marriages do over lifetimes. Something feels different lately... I think it's from being faced with the possibility of losing a friendship i cherish, but actually trusting, in a small way, that it won't be lost. Believing that there is love, no matter what. For some reason that makes it easier to let go. Not easy, but easier.

I'm wondering if i might even get something done today. That'd be cool.

Tuesday, 26 May 2015


It's simple, really, isn't it? It's the need to confess.


It's nice having my mum to talk to about how it's so crazy that things are twenty years ago, now. She says, for us, it's forty years, and sixty. That seems like quite a few years.

She tells me too about how childhood memories are coming back to her as she spends time with her grandchildren. I'd like to think that it's not all just lost.

It is 6am and i seem to be done with sleeping. A little more vodka and diet coke. Some water, too.

The words of the song "Wonderwall" are coming to me and i am reminded of being at the Chelsea Hotel in London in 1996. How is it possible that i have lived this long? I have been self-destructive for 20 years.

I don't believe that anybody feels the way i do about you now.

I liked seeing a facebook post about the things that kids have tantrums about. Apparently i threw some pretty good tantrums, and i can believe it. I don't think i've grown out of it, actually. That's not so cool. The book i was reading last month talks about automated sequences of behavior that we develop as a result of having to work things out for ourselves as children. I wonder if it's true? My friend talks about not getting what he needed as a child. He certainly seems to have some automated stuff going on. I wonder, does any of us get what we need? My niece is a terror about putting her shoes on when it's time to go home. Just Won't. Such defiance. Seems like the only way to deal with it is to make like we don't care what she does, but it doesn't feel right to me.

Oh yeah, here is a cool comic about depression and anxiety:

I need a haircut.

When i think about how sick i was when i was in the States, it is miraculous that i survived. He saved my life. He saved my life. He saved my life.

Why am i throwing it away? To get attention?

I have been doing this thing where i touch my fingers in turn with my thumb. I'm doing this thing where i write. Maybe it's okay.

* * *

That signifies that some time has passed, but it hasn't really, or not much. I dunno. I wanted a break. Maybe that's how he feels. That's what she said.

* * *

I'm not drunk, but there is something about this time of day.

Monday, 25 May 2015

What am i doing?

Looks like my robot audience has gone. I seem to be doing well at being offensive!

Got the vodka. Cancelled my appointments for the evening.

I don't know what i'm doing, really. Part of it was a way to potentially talk to him without direct contact, but it's not just that or i'd stop now. There really is something about putting my thoughts out there... and i know a lot of people do it... and i've thought of it with disdain at times... but i'm doing it. There is a deeper need beyond the immediate situation. I am unwell, but it's so much better an unwell than i've experienced in the past that it seems trivial, like i'm making weak excuses. I suppose we'll find out what i'm doing, but i don't know yet.

I have had a couple of scares lately. Like yesterday, at the restaurant, when i was paying. The cashier asked what account and my inner voice said "credit" and i actually said "savings". The cashier then seemed to have a negative tone when he mumbled something about my in voice. Space deliberate.

I used to be on high alert all day, every day, experiencing stuff like that. It really strikes me how witty and clever it all is, but usually i'm too busy having the crap scared out of me to find any joy in it. At one point i wondered if it was the Holy Spirit. There's that bit in John that still puzzles and fascinates me, about how He does not use His own words. Hmm, lemme quote:

But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come.

That was the NIV. I think the ESV actually clarifies:

When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth, for he will not speak on his own authority, but whatever he hears he will speak, and he will declare to you the things that are to come.

John 16:13

Suppose the simple thing to say about all this is that for somebody experiencing the odd parsing of other people's words the way i do from time to time (and used to all the time), it wasn't too much of a leap to imagine that Jesus, in John, was talking about this. The ESV seems to clarify that the Holy Spirit speaks the words of God, rather than implying something about twisting or using the words of other people...

Yikes, i'm not sure if i'm making any sense here, but it feels good to get this off my chest. It has been festering for years.


Well, now i'm hungover and scared to go out of my room. I want to, though, because i want more vodka.

It really was good to listen to that music. Hot passionate pain, and now i'm spent.

Suppose it's myself, making myself feel like dirt, but i want to blame him. I want to ask how he can possibly complain to me, endlessly, about the very thing he does to me... but all it is is indifference. Why should anyone care?

I don't actually believe he is indifferent, but i think he is all at the same time. It hurts that he can just shut me out like it's nothing, but i admire it, too. I can't do that. I need my friends, and feel indignant that i'm supposed to not, and that i'm not needed. Ack. So many mixed up feelings. I do think it's reasonable to miss somebody when they've been a daily presence in one's life. Who wouldn't be hurt?

I know, i know it, that i've over-reacted. I am very needy right now.


I noticed that talking about my pain made it into a comedy. And i kinda liked it :-) If i never say anything else on this blog, maybe keep that in mind.


This Femmes album is quite cathartic to listen to, screaming silently in the room next to my mother's. Every song. Thank God. It's weird to be helped through the pain by the same person who has caused it. It's probably why i'm in pain, but whatever. I feel thankful for even this.

*heh* i vomitted when i said that.

Sunday, 24 May 2015

Sunday #6

Well, i only lost a kilo again, so i'm at 86. I didn't exercise that much this week. Suppose i can't complain. My clothes are visibly looser, but i'm still fat!

This choir sang at church this morning. It's an Aboriginal women's choir. They are going on tour to Germany -- the land of the missionaries who learned their language and taught their ancestors Christian songs in the 19th century... that seems quite special actually. I was moved when they were obviously interested in seeing some of the descendants of those missionaries who are members of our church... All very apt for Pentecost Sunday, though it did feel more like a concert than church.

What else can i say? Salmon sashimi is becoming a Sunday special. I like how it feels like it has ritual built in. Savoring. Learning how much wasabi is nice. Loving the ginger.

Saturday, 23 May 2015


I finished watching The Nativity Story, tonight.

I liked seeing how Mary and Joseph's relationship developed, their trust in God and in one another. How it never would have worked without trust in God.

It was also kind of interesting -- i don't think i'd been aware before of the significance of the gifts:

Gold, for the King of kings.
Frankincense, for the Priest of all priests.
Myrrh, to honor the Sacrifice.

Finally, i thought about the words: He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich He has sent empty away. Truly i have been both the hungry and the rich, even at the same time in different ways, and He has been true to this. My trip to America was a good example, and living with my mother is another. Should i tell these stories? It hurts so much, but i've been deeply blessed.

I broke my diet today as a guest at a church gathering. It was magnificent to eat cheese. And potatoes. And eat enough. That's not really what i meant in the above comment!

Friday, 22 May 2015

Fish and Chips

Two posts in one day? Who knows where this will lead? I just know it fulfills a need that i can't quite define, and it's working for me at a time when i feel... abandoned? No, not really. I think it's more like empty. My illusion of being a giving person has gone. That actually makes it easier not to fret.

Today i got to help my mum with her new computer, so that was something. It also helps to help care for my niece and nephew once a week. Oh, i know we're not saved by works, but works righteousness is in my blood. I'm actually pretty lazy and i see it in my mum a lot more. Or maybe it's stewardship that i'm seeing, in her work around the house? Something i can aspire to? I find it harder to feel valuable doing housework than something for someone else...

Anyway, i don't think it's a Catholic thing that we've taken to eating fish and chips on Fridays. She liked it a lot more than i did until, in my dieting, i discovered grilled fish. Wow. I like it ten times better than the fried stuff... So, Friday night fish and chips is kind of joyous! I have salad instead of chips. We drink two standard glasses of wine. It's nice.

It seems important to notice joy when it happens.


Well, i'm not very proud of those last two posts, but what's to be done? The wheels are in motion, and i'm not deleting posts!

(i don't think i will, anyway)

Part of my trouble has been that, not eating, i haven't been taking the medication that's supposed to be taken with food. It's hard to say how much of a difference it makes, but now i am eating an apple for breakfast so that i can take the meds. Things are probably looking a bit depressive when one tells one's mother: "I want to die."

It also seems like a pretty rude thing to say to the person who brought me into the world.

Wednesday, 20 May 2015


I would like to have someone to talk to, but i've never really trusted anyone i did pay to talk to me.

Suppose that's natural.

When i think about gay marriage, i think it's like the emperor's new clothes. You say it's the same, but it's obviously not. You wouldn't be doing it, if it was the same. Why do you want to downgrade your identity by calling it something it is not?

I think it's an ugly compromise.