The Bloody Doors Off

You know, I really don’t get it. Have the rules changed so much in the past 12 months? Is there a cheat sheet I can access when it comes to having a conversation?

Here’s the deal. I started a conversation last night with someone on OKCupid. Now, unless you’ve lived under a rock or are completely allergic to the news/Facebook, you’d heard about the guy who set up a female profile on OKC and ended up deleting it after 2 hours because of the testosterone-fueled morons who bombarded ‘her’ with demands for sex and other stupid shit. This woman I was chatting with actually commented how refreshing it was that my profile actually said something, as well as carrying on a decent conversation.

But this morning, it seems, I committed a ‘cardinal sin’. I didn’t finish a comment with asking a question. Yes you want to get to know the person on the end of the tube (the internet is made of tuuuuuuuuuuubes) but I didn’t realize that ‘getting to know you’ talk strictly had to be question and answer. I believe in allowing the conversation to grow organically. Maybe you’ll say something I think is interesting and wish to add to, or have you elaborate on. I don’t want to just discard it to ask what your 5 favorite movies are.

Maybe I’m just old-fashioned that way. I’m not expecting magic overnight. I don’t discount someone because they failed to ask/answer a particular question. Connections take time. Don’t be so quickly dismissive. What’s the damned rush?

It was a story construct in Doctor Who, the idea that a ‘quantum-locked’ statue of a Weeping Angel could, if you blinked while looking at it, send you back in time to live out your years.

I mention this because, there are days I feel like I was born too late in this world and would really love to get sent back to a simpler age. Specifically, the 1940s. Aside from being a huge nerd/fan of film noir, and yes I’d be avoiding as much as possible getting drafted into the second world war, it seems to me (and correct me if I’m wrong) but it was an easier time to live in. After the Great Depression came a resurgence of jobs, people could own homes, raised families, were valued for who they were, not what they purchased.

Second choice: the late 1960s. The summer of love, freedom. The choice to turn on, tune in, and drop out. Again, it just seems like there was more possibility.

I wouldn’t live in the 1980s. I did that already, though I couldn’t appreciate (or hate) how capitalistic and greedy the world had started turning.

Nor would I go back to the previous century. While it’d be interesting to see how the industrial revolution really changed lives virtually overnight, I couldn’t stand the idea of prim and proper (and the lack of proper plumbing or air conditioning).

Bottom line: these days are hard and frustrating, and I’m desperate to escape.

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.