Merry Fooking Christmas...

So, it's Christmas again. It's been tough this last year. Nothing is really resolved, nothing majorly interesting is happening, or happened. I've just been trying to ignore the impending depression that always sets in during these times.

Work has been playing Christmas tunes over the intercom since November 12th, and people around me are all happy and cheerful concerning Christmas. They tell me of their family get-togethers, presents they got for children or grandchildren. And I kind of want to beat them for it. Well, not really. On a good day, I enjoy hearing about this stuff. I guess I'm just jealous. I want to feel that..."thing" that they feel. I have no one keeping me warm at night, no family gatherings to go to, no tree, no presents. Some of that is deliberate, some not. I just want to pretend that it's simply another day, in a long (or short) line of more days unravelling to the future.

I've been trying to focus on what I DO have. I have peace and quiet, some music I like, food in my fridge, and a roof over my head. I also gots me internet, otherwise I'd be doing this as smoke signals or something. Heh.

I just wish I had something important to do, or look forward to. I feel lost. I work, come home, eat, sleep, poop. Lather, rinse, repeat. I kill time by watching movies, and occasionally playing games and surfing the 'net. I try to connect to the world, but it just feels like a weird, alien place. I feel almost like I'm waiting for something. I've got to stop that. Sitting here on my ass is getting tedious, and nets me nothing.

When this new year starts, I think I'm going to be quitting this shit. This isn't living. I'll be moving soon, and from there, maybe I can make a new start.

Movin' on up...to the east si-ide!

Well, in an unusual turn of events (as in, some "good luck"), I got invited to move into a penthouse apartment, along with some friends. Given that in the 6-months I had an erstwhile (and semi-deadbeat) roomie/girlfriend, I didn't really get ahead financially as I'd hoped to. The cool thing is, the penthouse is already in the building I live in!!!

*squeals in girlish glee*

So me, a co-worker (and good friend), his wife, and another mutual friend, could all be living in this swanky (and very roomy) penthouse. And the best part is, my room there, is almost bigger than my whole apartment!! Actually, the better part is, split 4-ways, it's $320+ less rent than I pay now. And the patio is SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET! Too bad it's winter.

Now I've got to do up the damned paperwork.

"Oh, Lord...I'm Still Alive..."

Yes, that's a Pearl Jam song reference, deal with it.

Hello, my long-neglected blog. Oh, how I missed you!

*spends several minutes just nuzzling the blog affectionately*

Ahhhhh. Much better.

Some might wonder why I've been away for so long. The answer to that question is simple. I got caught up in a relationship. I met me a girl, she seemed good (and was good) for a brief period of time. We went out for about 2 months, and I foolishly brought her into my sanctum sanctorum, my fancy way of saying "my apartment" and also "my life". I won't delve into the details as to why I did this, save to say that it was a combination of "poor judgement" and "it-seemed-like-the-right-thing-to-do-at-the-time". From there on out, 4-ish months, it was like living with a psychotic, issue-ridden, guilt-powered, cyborg sent back from the future to destroy John Connor. And by "John Connor" I mean "me".

And she was crazy, too. Never have I seen someone so full of issues that they literally went batshit insane whenever you brushed the raw, exposed nerves left unhealed from the years of...er...being her, I guess. She could literally go from saying "I was the best thing that ever happened to her", one minute, and begin hurling obscenities at me, the next. It got to a point where there was nothing I could do or say that wouldn't set her off, so I simply stopped doing anything at all concerning her. Which, ironically, set her off some more. I should probably mention that throughout all this, she maintains that I was abusing her! She also wrote about it on Facebook, and told her friends about it. That dog won't hunt, monsignor!!

For the record, I'd like to state that I have never hit a woman (or a man, for that matter), nor do I come from the school of he/she-who-yells-loudest-wins-the-argument. Hell, When I get mad, I go quiet. But there was no abuse whatsoever going on. But it's nice that she told a bunch of people I don't know alllll about it. Never mind that it's from her extremely-flawed perspective.

Thankfully, she decided to go live with her sister (who is also an annoying bitch, in her own right), leaving me with the remainders of her stuff until she can pick it up. In the meantime, I've been enjoying a kind of bliss the likes of which I can't recall knowing. The absence of a super-crazy bitch.

I remember cracking open some terrible noname-style root beer from in the fridge after she left. She had taken all the food she'd recently purchased (for a change, she was kind of a deadbeat), including cases of pop from the fridge, but left the gross stuff for me. After she left, I remember cracking one of those open, taking a swig, and remarking at how much it tasted like freedom. Well, if "freedom" was a shitty-tasting imitation root beer. But I digress...

All-in-all, I have to admit that it's been very satisfying to not have her around. Much of why I neglected this l'il blog for so long, was because I was wrapped up in taking care of her extra-needy ass. Not to mention that I don't like the idea of her being able to read shit over my shoulder. Simply put, for what she offered, what she required from me was much, much more. I think I'll refer to it as relationship economics.

My next relationship co-conspirator must meet the following criteria:

#1: Have a job. And be able to pay their own bills, and buy their own junk.

#2: Not Be Crazy. Will not abuse the shit out me for issues and baggage that pre-date me and our potential relationship.

I am a bit bummed, though. I miss her cat. He was a cute, agreeable l'il rascal. Not unlike Puss In Boots from Shrek 2. Maybe I should've started dating him. He was way saner.

Ramble-rant over.

Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs?

I just re-read the post I made last night.

Yeah, I don't sound crazy at all.

*rolls eyes*

Fear and Loathing in Las V...erm...Edmonton?

Today's topic is fear, with a heaping side-order of self-loathing. And in no small way I'm a pretty frightened individual. I've been waiting for some kind of word from the doctor I saw last week. So far, no response. I know that lab tests take around a week or so to be processed, but I'm literally climbing the walls in agitation. Patience is not my strong suit.

Erm, back on topic. I'm not fearful about the test results, I'm pretty positive that they'll be ridiculously normal. I'm fearful about my future. Hell, I'm fearful for my present. As the time has passed since my psychological hiccup, I'm starting to remember things. I've been lying awake and alone in my apartment, psychoanalyzing myself. I'm starting to remember hate, and hate of myself in particular. I feel saturated with it. It taints everything, every perception, every other emotion. I feel as if I'm slipping away, with waves of it crashing over me. Why do I hate myself? I'm not completely sure. But I have ideas about it, sensations. I hate the way I look. At times I can barely gaze at myself in the mirror. Sometimes, when I can bear it, I look at myself and sometimes I catch a glimmer of myself beneath the flesh. I almost feel tempted to find something sharp and cut away the things that hide me underneath. But I don't. At least not yet. I remember this feeling well. The feeling of being buried alive, inside myself. It's haunted me since I was at least 16. And now it's back. And I keep trying to find some kind of help, but all I find are dead ends. This will kill me, if I can't get help soon. I'm very afraid and very angry.

This week in review...

I've been pretty busy this last week. I totally forgot to mention that last Saturday, I had the most awesomest Easter dinner I have ever had. It was so awesome that anything I've eaten since then gets compared to that day, and doesn't measure up. Really. I'm eating good food now, and at best, I feel "meh" about it.

Also within the last few days, I've been clamoring to re-acquire my Alberta Health Care.

It only took 2 back-to-back days (after work) of trying to find the damn registry office, wandering downtown like a super-retarded GPS, and getting hit up for spare change or cigarettes by a plethora of hobos. It turns out that the weird address I was trying to find was in the bloody Edmonton City Centre mall! A place I went to get my picture I.D. a year-or-two ago. I felt seriously retarded while waiting my turn in line. I even think I smacked my head as I saw the poster on the wall encouraging re-registration for AHC. It literally took 2 minutes for the very animated clerk-lady to punch in my data and hook me back up with the joys of health care. And then I felt only slightly less retarded on the way home. I got some subs from Subway to celebrate my triumph. Yes, my life is very sad.

Finally feeling some momentum building, I decided to go see the doctor for some advice concerning the weird panic attacks I've been getting recently. After work today, I trundled off to the nearest medi-centre and ended up sitting for an hour right next to a mother and her spawn, who for sickies, seemed to have no problem being little hyper-active dildos. When I finally got to see a doctor, I tried to explain and elaborate on my weird mental state, but he seemed to focus mostly on the panic issues. I found myself unable to bring the topic back to the fact that they are but a symptom tied to a larger issue. An issue for which I'd like to seek psychiatric assessment. So what ended up happening was me getting sporked with needles, getting my heart checked with an EKG, and pissing in a test tube. All-in-all, a far cry from what I went there for in the first place. I can appreciate that the doctor wanted to be thorough, and check for a physiological cause. But I'm fairly certain that any tests done are going to come back pretty normal. Overall, I am very not amused.

I got more subs on the way home, but was much less triumphant about acquiring them. Probably because I think today kind of sucked ass. And by "kind of" I mean "really".

At least I have the next 3 days off, maybe something awesome will happen. Might have H over, and we'll scarf some Edo and watch movies.

Good Friday?

Had a fun day with H, the girl I went out-and-about with, yesterday. She was cute, funny, a bit weird, but quite engaging. It's nice to be around someone who isn't just a plank of wood in terms of personality. I think I now understand what witty repartee means. It's like verbal fencing, or perhaps verbal chess. You make a move, and there's a counter-move. Give-and-take during conversation. It's been a good, long while since I've experienced this. I'd like to hang out with her again, but like with most women, I can't really tell if she likes me in that kind of way. My guess is "no", but we'll see. I did confide in her the weird mental things I've been dealing with lately, and she seemed pretty open and understanding about it. She even gave some good suggestions. At the end of the evening, she was back here in my apartment, being introduced to Rock Band (which was at her request, not mine).

As for today, I'm feeling kind of sick. Not physically, mind you, just sort of...out of synch. I've been pacing my apartment, and coping with the feeling like I need to be moving somehow. Kind of like every minute spent not doing something is driving me batty. Like things can't be moving fast enough. I guess I'm annoyed that I have to wait until next week to hit the registry offices (to re-apply for the card), and then wait 2 weeks to get the AHC card. Just to seek some psychiatric aid.

A Good Friday, my ass.

Bleh.