The Bloody Doors Off

Over-cooked the pork roast.

Now that’s out of the way…

Today sucked. Too much time on my hands, no motivation to write or go for a walk. Goddamn but I’m not happy. I worry that it’s this place. I’m half underground. I’ve got windows but a grey day like today, there’s no sunlight coming in and… the windows just aren’t big enough. The last apartment, I had a wall of windows. Granted, there was another apartment building across the way, but it felt better. More light, even when the sun was behind cloud. And it was more fun walking in Greektown. Even in my micro-neighborhood, there was more to enjoy. Yes, there’s a coffee shop opening a block away, but given that I’m in bankruptcy, and still unemployed, I need to count every penny. So the joy of going out and reading the paper while sipping a dark roast isn’t feasible.

I dunno man. My psychiatrist gave me his ‘light glasses’ a few years back. They’re frames with infra-red LEDs on the sides that help with seasonal effectiveness disorder. He’s got a lamp in his office; I’d love a lamp but, broken record. I should throw in new batteries and start wearing them again.

You know what I’d really love? WARM FEET. Because of the type 2 diabetes, the circulation in my toes suck. My old apartment kept the heat in (broken record) This place is nice but it’s gas heat, which costs (broken record) and even with thick socks my feet are cold. I’ve got three blankets on the couch, and guaranteed I’ve got one of them on my lap at any given time. And it’s December. I’m dreading March at this point.

And yes, while I’m at it, I’d like to rant about phone etiquette. I had someone call today about air duct cleaning. Now, my first thought upon hearing the name of the company (which included the words ‘air’ and ‘duct’) was “scam”. I mean, who in 2013 gets a phone call from a company claiming to be air duct cleaners and think “why yes, I’ll take this faceless company up on their offer without checking their credentials online, such as a website and such”.  At the very least, it was an outsourced call. But jeebus. The moment I said “sorry there are no air ducts here” he didn’t say “okay, thank you” or “thanks for your time”. No. He hung up. Just a fucking click. And you KNOW is was a random call because I only get 1% of my phone calls on my home phone now and it’s not registered to any property. So whatever mood I was already in, that just made it 10% shittier. The only reason I don’t get rid of that number is what would happen if my cell phone got wrecked. If I was working and could afford a replacement? Sure. But not now. But that also means paying $30 for a landline I may need if the cell breaks. So either way, it’s a waste. Ugh.

Now it’s after 10pm, I’m feeling like crap and even ranting like this isn’t helping.

I need to eat someone. Because the pork roast is dry. But only with permission first.

Because I’m a fine, young cannibal.

Sadly I’m not referring to the Crash Test Dummies song (which is okay, but I never really took to). No, this is more of a gut feeling that comes on when things are too quiet, when my hands are too idle, etc.

I got up at 9:00am, and by 10:30 I was bored to tears. Not working sucks ass. I must be doing somewhat better because I’m chomping at the bit, I just wish I either had a job or a project that was currently motivating me.

Haven’t even had lunch, I’m not hungry. Which also tells me that something’s up. Aside from a minor runny nose (which I’ve had for a week), I’m healthy. I’m not getting sick. Can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something not right. I’ve had this feeling before, and when the shit hits the fan, it hits. And it’s not necessarily a personal thing either.

Eh. Maybe I’ll get inspired later. Even this post is lame.

I’m a lapsed Catholic.

I was baptized and took communion, even going to Catholic school on Saturdays (only this year did I learn my mother only agreed to this because it was either going on Saturdays, or Catholic School proper). Given my falling out, I think I dodged a bullet. I’m far too liberal in some respects: I believe in a woman’s right to choose, contraception, etc. When I saw how my father was ostracized after the divorce, I think that was the last straw. I’m aware of how far the Vatican has come since I was a teenager; hell, I’ve been impressed with Pope Francis.

When I’d started my descent back in the spring, a good friend recommended talking with God. I explained my views on the Church, and she pointed out the difference between religion and belief in a higher power. So one sunny afternoon in April, I walked into a United Church on the Danforth. I knelt on a pew and opened up. I cried; holy fuck, I cried. I asked if anyone was listening. Of course there wasn’t a verbal reply; hell, if I’d heard one I’d have thought I was going insane and would’ve checked myself into the hospital right then. But I did flip through a book of hymns and opened it to a random page. And it said:

When you call me, I’ve already answered
When you call me, I’m already there

No. Seriously.

So after that, I started talking with God again. One sided, but nightly. Before bed. Mostly about what had transpired that day, some hopes for the future, and to look after my friends and family.

I stopped a little while ago, when things really got dark. It just kind of… slipped away. And then there was the hospital. They had a service on the Wednesday, but I couldn’t get myself to go. I felt like it’d be bargaining.

It’s occurred to me that I should start again. I do think there’s more out there; some kind of unifying force, a presence… I dunno. Something. I’m not sure why I find it hard to talk to her/him. There’s a United Church in my neighbourhood that I keep thinking of going into. And while I’ve been waking up earlier on a daily basis, I still haven’t gone to a service on a Sunday. I actually wanted to go to one last Wednesday, as I’d seen there were services then as well, but when I passed by during the day, that sign had been taken down. So I’m not sure if that’s changed.

The church has always intimidated me. I need to turn that around.

Saturday didn’t go as expected.

In some ways it was better. I wrote a very trippy scene with my friend Kate, a tale of two friends who had a conversation in dreams that spanned lives lived, lives yet to be experienced, and alternate planes of existence. It reminded me of what we as a writing duo are capable of: informative, whimsical, touching. It also helped kick start my engine. Let’s hope I write more every day.

I also got out to St. Lawrence Market today to get some groceries. I haven’t been there in ages. I did a ‘hit it and quit’ approach because I wasn’t up to wandering, but I should next time, especially as the Christmas season draws near. I think I also want to get out and see more Christmas light displays. This is a good thing.

On the not so great side, I was supposed to have a date tonight, but she cancelled without word of why nor an indication if she wanted to reschedule. I’m not bummed about it. We could be a good fit, but it’d take a lot of work. I’m 47; am I stupid for thinking at this point in my life that I should be able to find the person who fits like a snug puzzle piece and fills out the missing parts? Dunno.

Spending the night in, where it’s warm. Debating tomorrow.

I was talking to a friend today who is going through their own issues. And as much as I want to help them, all I can really offer is an ear to listen. At one point I was going to say “you only get out of life what you put in”, but didn’t. Because it wasn’t what they needed to hear.

But while I was out, ruminating on what I’ve been dealing with, I’ve realized it kind of applies to me. Not that I’ve been half-assing it on purpose, When you’re fighting depression and anxiety, among other things, it can make doing shit near impossible some days. But “you only get out of life what you put in” is a good mantra, even on the dark days. Because maybe on a day I’m struggling to get out of bed I can think “put in the effort to get up and go for a walk”. And who knows what that walk will provide? Fresh air? Yeah. Exercise? Sure. And maybe more. Because it might twig an idea for a story. (It spurred some pretty awesome Song for Rachel rewrites.) Or remind me to pick up bloody lightbulbs. Or I dunno. Maybe someone will smile at me, and I’ll smile back and that will brighten my mood, and that will make me feel better through the rest of the day and into tomorrow, where I get more done.

You only get out of life what you put in. I like that.

I get why, on the 6th floor of H-Wing, they played music videos when everyone woke up. It’s the least offensive noise at first light. It’s not the news, which can anger or depress you. Nor is it a couple of “hosts” making ‘witty banter’ and talking with C-list celebrities.

But Justin Bieber singing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”, and including the lyrics “shake it, shake it baby” would be enough to set anyone off.

I need the music after last night. There’s a guy crashing upstairs who isn’t supposed to be there. He was supposed to be gone a while ago, but just this week was found out by the landlords. He’s been ordered out today. So last night he made a fuck ton of noise, starting around midnight, packing his shit. I banged on the ceiling at 12:30 because I was trying to sleep. He yelled that he “was moving” and “fuck off”.

At 1:45am, I called the cops with a noise complaint. Do you think that sat well? (It did for me.) So at 8:30am, he dropped something heavy on the spot above my room. Such a nice way to wake up, don’tcha think?

The landlords are taking the extra steps of changing the door codes and putting up a ‘do not trespass’ order today. Not sure I want to know what the history with this guy is, just glad he’s leaving.

It’s been a very grey day, in every sense. Despite the warm weather (we hit 15C around noon), I couldn’t motivate myself to go outside for a walk. And I wanted to. Mentally. In my head, I kept thinking, despite the lack of sun, that it would be a lovely time to take a walkabout. But I couldn’t get the damned shoes on. I barely made it out to get the mail.

I got other things done. A flyer for a friend’s business for barter, finalizing a poster for another. I even updated my job search profiles on two different websites. Updated my portfolio with the flyer (really proud of that one). But that was all done from behind a keyboard. It’s easier to live anonymously, the subconscious says. It’s wrong. I know it’s wrong. But today it held firm.

Wish I had more to write about tonight. Hell, I wish I was writing. I’m stuck; haven’t worked on the new play in days. I need a serious kick in the pants, metaphorically and literally.

I’ve never done crack or heroin. My last ‘drunken stupor’ episode was … years ago. I’ve been to strip clubs. I’ve smoked pot, but so has Jack Layton, and he was the federal leader of the NDP.

There’s no sex tape. Yet. I make no promises on that front. I just pray that, if I ever do, it never goes public. Nobody needs to see that.

So much to process right now. EI problems are fixed, I think. I called yesterday after discovering on Sunday that there was still an outstanding issue on my file. I may been approved for the full 15 weeks of the medical extension (instead of the 9 originally quoted), that is, if the person I spoke to was correct. It’d be nice if I didn’t need all 15 weeks. But it’s a learning curve. But by receiving this I don’t get OW (makes sense). So, no drug card. However, I did speak with Trillium and they’re sending me a form requesting a new audit. I’m confident this will reduce my deductible, hopefully by January.

My psychiatrist made a great observation today about how being proactive, even by offering to be a listening post to another person who might be struggling, even during my own struggles, can strengthen my core. I need that feeling of being solid. Mentally it’s been a little bit jell-o from September to November. Things are getting better, but I’d be happier if the progress was a bit more pronounced. I know, you can only go at the speed you’re supposed to.

As opposed to past years, I’ve already loaded a few Christmas tunes into my iPod. Usually I can’t do this until at least half-way through the month. Especially last year, that was brutal. Even considered hauling out the tiny Christmas tree today. My only concern at the moment is Mels; I don’t know what that insane cat will do. I have the water bottle at the ready but I don’t think that’s enough. I think I shall buy a bottle of apple bitter beforehand and liberally spray it up front. Cats hate that shit. Pre-emptive strike, yeah?

Speaking of the holidays. I’m preparing myself for the difficulties. The depression hit me last year at this time. Knowing I couldn’t afford to give gifts, hell even Christmas cards, was a blow to my psyche. I feel so damned guilty when I get gifts and I have nothing to offer in exchange. Sure people will say, “your company is enough”, but I like giving; finding that perfect something (no matter how big or small) that reflects how I feel about the other person, that encapsulates who they are.

But I’m working on changing my mindset for this too.

And also working on the resume, and going to go to Second Career (Ontario program) before the 20th. That’s a goal.

It’s early, and I may post this again. But I want to share this because my brothers rock and I want to dedicate this to them.

Does working on your resume count as writing? Because it’s the only writing I’ve gotten done today.

I’m not complaining. I’ve gotten some great feedback on the content and I’m hoping that I’ll have something that shines soon enough. I know I’m not ready to start looking for work this week, but I need to be forward thinking. (Plus, I just found out I’m getting 15 weeks on the medical extension, and not 9, so there’s less panic there too.)

I did find out another tidbit today on the upstairs drama. As it turns out, while Junior left (pretty much in the middle of the night) there is a guy crashing in the apartment who was ordered out previously. The landlords found out about it today and he’s been told to get his ass out by Friday or things won’t go well for him. They’ve also asked me to keep my ears open and if there’s any shenanigans during what should be ‘quiet hours’, to feel free and call the local cop shop. Whheeeeeeeee.

On the plus side, I got through that self-defeating bit from last night, woke up at my ‘new normal’ time and got a fair bit accomplished today (including laundry). Now I just need to apply Jane Espenson’s 60 minute writing sprint to my daily routine. I think that’d go a long way to keeping up, creatively.

Oh, and if anyone wonders about my posting music videos. It reflects my mood. I tend to think musically, and sometimes they say what I feel when I can’t sort the words in the right order.