The Bloody Doors Off

This is me.

I think it’s time we had another talk.

It’s been 16 months since I lost my job. Since then I’ve had to downsize considerably in many aspects of my life. A humbling experience. But even at what I considered my lowest, I didn’t quit. I went to the hospital and got help.

Well, I need more help now. I need a job. Part of it is obvious: to pay the rent, prescriptions, food and other expenses. But there’s another part. I’ve noticed that working ties into my self-worth. Yes, many people will say that’s ridiculous, that it shouldn’t. But for me it does. By contributing to a larger goal, I feel accomplishment. I connect with people. I learn, not just about the industry I work in, but myself.

So I’m putting it out there. It can be full-time, contract work, or part-time. Temp work even. Something that I look forward waking up each day for.

Whaddya say?

There’s something about this time of year that doesn’t agree with me.

The days are shorter; my temper is quick.

The sun is sparse; I feel grey.

But how much is it of my own doing?

I recognize the pattern. I tend to suffer some kind of burnout in winter. I thought it was due to overwork and poorly spaced out vacation. But from last year to this, my opinion’s changed. Seasonal Affectiveness Disorder. I knew I had it in some form. But it seems more pronounced. I have a light therapy lamp (thanks to my brother Kevin, a lovely Christmas gift) and I’ve been using it pretty much daily. But I feel like I need more.

If only I knew what that was.

I really don’t have anything tonight.

Enjoyed a chance meeting with a friend on the SRT on the way to meet my brother at the Lawrence East station, as well as hanging out with my family over at Wayne’s in Oshawa. My family is so passionate over football, you have to wonder sometimes how I’m related to them. I root for the New Orleans Saints but that’s through association with the city itself. When I was in my early 20s I visited during Mardi Gras and it never really left me.

I should go back sometime.

It’s quiet in the apartment at the moment. The roommate is out and the kitties are resting up on various spots of the couch (and computer chair). I’m sure they’re just waiting for me to go to bed so they can pin me down. Mels’ favorite spot is between my feet and Izzy without fail will rest on my lap (if you can call it that when you lie down). Hannah usually ends up on my side. Inevitably each night I’ll wake up enough to want to roll over on my side and it’s a production number because they’re still there. And once I do extricate myself, Mels is right behind my knees.

What I miss right now is a view. My old apartment may have faced other apartment buildings but at least I could also see the sky. Having windows at ground level offers pretty much zero landscape.

I woke up (the first time) around 7am, and struggled to sleep until the alarm went off. Every little noise jostled me. Dreams were horrid.

2 hours later and I’m hating the idea of being conscious. Hopefully a visit with family will lighten my mood.

If I were to lose one sense, by choice, if it made my life 50,000 times better in all aspects? I’d choose sound.

I’ve always been a visual person, and while I would miss the shit out of music, I could still deal.

But taste. That would hurt.

And for a couple of hours, I couldn’t taste anything tonight.

Started with the eCigarette. Things were fine, nice and tasty 5-star chilli. I filled up a second with beaver drops. Only I wasn’t getting any vape out of the second one. Which made no sense. And I noticed the battery was dying, so I swapped out the tips and put the second one on charge. Still couldn’t get anything out of the beaver drops, not even the vapour. So I think that cap is defective. But then I put back on the 5-star chilli and couldn’t taste a damned thing.

Even water tasted like… nothing. So I grabbed a tangerine orange and peeled it. (Okay, it felt weird.) And again, no taste whatsoever. So I tried a second one, and could taste the orange on my tongue.

But that was panic.

And that would’ve been one push too far this week.

What I’ve been noticing, or at least finally catching up on, is how counter-intuitive I’ve been for the past year or so. Actions and decisions that came naturally to me are second-guessed, analyzed to the point of a Woody Allen monologue (without the wry humor) and dismissed.

Used to be, I’d instinctively know the course of action and do it. I could act on some things, rather than react, which has been a recurring problem. And sure, sometimes I’d get it wrong, but it wouldn’t flame out in such spectacular fashion. Only now…

Today was a day I tried to say ‘yes’ to something. I hesitated, for close to an hour. Debated whether or not I could just jump without a safety net and enjoy the ride. Finally my brain said “this could be the best fucking thing to happen to you in years, and if you don’t, it’ll haunt you”. So I took the leap.

And, then it fell apart. I get why; and I’m okay with that. But I went against the way my brain’s been feeding me, my emotional roller-coaster has been jerking me about, hoping this was the start of a change. It wasn’t.

So now, I really don’t know what to think or do.

That scares me.

I’m still a dreamer. You can still get me to hope.

And when I crash, as I’m always going to do, it’ll hurt that much more.

Took a spill today on the ice. Which, you ask yourself, after so many days (what, 2 weeks?) after the ice storm, who still has ice on their sidewalk? The answer is: way too fuckin’ many.

I was on the Danforth across the street from Greenwood Station. Had been out to drop off my monthly bankruptcy report and dropped by Mollie’s restaurant to pick up liquid for my eCigarettes. She’d gifted me 2 new eGo devices (which are awesome) as well and yeah, I have great friends. So I’d taken the subway to Greenwood (and seriously people, it’s 4pm, when did rush hour get pushed up so early? when I was on the Yonge line at 3:30, it was packed) and decided to walk to the Tim Hortons for a coffee.

Boom. Flat on my ass. I was stunned more than anything else (feeling a little stiff and bruised now but it’s not so bad) but jeebus, the fact that the owner of the barber shop didn’t react… A teenager came up and asked if I was okay (thus restoring my faith that a few of the future generation holds promise) but the owner of the shop? Nothing. Even after I opened his bloody door and told him to take care of the ice. That if I’d hurt myself he’d have been liable. (It was nearer to the door than the sidewalk itself.)

Kinda wished I’d waited until tomorrow to make the run. We’re finally going to get above 0C Friday, and the ice will finally be headed south (to the gutters).

Yeah, boring blog post today. I’m avoiding thinking about work (the lack of) and finances.

Okay, lemme tell you about my day. No, is too long. Lemme sum up.

Was at Second Career (sponsored by TDSB) from 9:30am-4:30pm, learning about how to put together a grant application to go back to school and upgrade my skills. Honestly, it was fucking intimidating. It’ll take me a couple of weeks to really put it all together. I know there are courses that would do well for me. AND if I can get in, I would get tuition and school fees paid for, as well as rent, food, some utilities, travel, covered during the period. (But even if I get approved, it might not start until summer.)

While I was there, I got an email from a client. Needed a couple of ideas for an advertisement in a Gala programme. So when I got home, spent 3 hours working on that. (The one day I wasn’t sitting on my hands begging for something to do.)

And right after that finished, I got a link to a job posting from my friend Lisa. And I’m entirely qualified for it. Even more fun? Given my ongoing questions of mental acuity (read: I had a breakdown, might be bi-polar, etc.) I qualify, by their standards, as having a disability (which hey, works in my favour — for ONCE).

Hello. My name is Indigo Montoya Paul Koster. You can’t kill my hopes. Not tonight, anyway.

Prepare to dance.