Archive for February, 2008

Giving the people what they want.

February 28, 2008

Someone searched for ‘things a stalker would say’ and found their way to my diary. I am not one to disappoint.

So, here you go. Things a stalker would say:

1. I’m totally not stalking you.

2. I love you so much, I just want to lick your feces.

3. Hello? Is this the camera shop where the paparazzi buy their equipment?

4. If you don’t marry me right now, the kitten gets it.

5. If you don’t marry me right now, I’m going to cut off my tongue and glue it to your front door.

6. Seriously, why would you take out a restraining order against me? I’m not doing anything.

7. That bitch Judge Judy made me return all her used panties I’d been saving up.

8. You like pizza? Me too. You hate worms? Me too. We’re so in tune.

9. Didja get my email? Huh? Huh? Why haven’t you replied yet? It’s been eleven minutes.

10. Hi, sorry I had to hunt you down at work. For some reason, your phone number seems to not be working.

Have I missed any?


A deceptive quiz entry. AKA sorry for the choppy ending.

February 28, 2008

Another day of mostly-counselling, and I’m feeling fine. Seriously.

My non-paying counselling gig has asked if I would like to do some more non-paying work as an online counsellor. I am quite interested in this; I think I’d be very good. Let’s face it, all four years of being a computer loser in university HAS to pay off somehow, right?

The payoff would appear to be a course – an accredited course. This would be kickin’, smokin’, and every other in’ thing in the frickin’ world. Just have to think about whether or not I have the time. My curent course ends in a week; it’s hard to think there will be a time when it does not exist. Where have the years gone?

TMD has said I should go for this qualification, since I’m obviously in the running for a world record in Longest Resume. I wonder if there really is such a category.

I think I’m quite keen – I like the idea of continuing to study, particularly when I can do it in my underwear at two in the morning. I’m also very interested in the topic, and think I could reasonably incorporate this into my life. It’s not far off from what I do in other capacities (what? an online space I own you do not know about? is it possible?) online and in real life, as well.

But an evening of donated time is an evening I can’t get paying clients. Still, the personal development would be killer.

Next up: TMD wants me to sort out all the problems with the new flat. I do not want to. The end.

Quote of the day: ‘I would like to chastise you. You left one square of toilet paper on the roll earlier, and I’d just shat my ass off and blood was flowing from my pee-pee.’ – my classy wife

My mom called lady’s bits pee-pees. Boys had doo-doos. Girls also had dee-dees, or boobs as we got older. What did YOUR family call your special place??

Please send us prayers or money in regards to the flat! No lie.

February 28, 2008

So. I had pepperroni pizza on Tuesday night. It’s the first time I’ve had meat in about ten years. My ass is still punishing me.

I’m doing okay. Still feel okay, if a bit ‘blah’, on the inside. My outsides are tired.

Tuesday was my first day at the new paid counselling gig. If I contrast how I felt on that Tuesday – content, fulfilled, like I was doing the right thing, on the right path – with how I feel every other day, it’s interesting. Makes Tuesdays brighter and the other days a little darker – sort of like shining a flashlight around in the dark.

It made me think that getting a new job was not just desireable, but needed. I’m unclear if I am mildly depressed, but I suspect I am just plain old ordinary burned out. Boredom and apathy, stress, demotivation. I am tempted to start referring to it as ‘The Demotivation’, in the way people over here say ‘The Menopause.’ I’ve been thinking that as soon as things were given the all clear with the new home, I’d begin to sort myself out in that neck of the woods.

Then yesterday we got the report from the inspector man. There is wet rot on one wall of the property (between bathroom and hall); this apparently means we need a builder and a plumber to give estimates so we can decide if we really want the property after all. I’m suddenly feeling overwhelmed by all the other stuff this flat needs and we can’t afford – because we really WOULD need to sort that wall out asap, and where is the money supposed to come from? I suppse if it’s really pricey we begin the delicate re-negotiation of prices with the owner, but I know we’ve already kinda got him at the lowest price he’s happy to be at.


Today is also going to be quite heavy. I have an emergency appointment with someone I haven’t seen in a few months, and I think it’s probably going to be quite intense and draining.

When tomorrow is over, I am off from Day Job until the 12th. And then I only have two training days. I need me some time off, boyo.

All that aside, I made a really cool piece of art to explore and explain my feelings about integration as a counsellor; I’ll tell you more about it later – maybe, if I don’t copyright this bitch! – but my presentation last night went very well. I wasn’t nervous in the least; if anything, I was really looking forward to getting in front of the group. It went so well I am going to send out my resume and cover letters to the teaching jobs I have been semi-thinking about, because you know what? I’m a good teacher. A really good teacher.

And when it’s talking about counselling, well now. What a nice mix. Man said last night that my art was a great example of integration – he said, ‘Perhaps the best one I’ve ever seen.’ Makes me feel good. Even with my extreme boredom at work, it’s like I have this whole other life bubbling up, a life I’m really good at and excited about.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to clothe myself.

Neck massage, please.

February 25, 2008

What a heavy, heavy day. I really do think therapy has the capacity to take it out of me like nothing else can – conversely, it also fills me up.

Today my energy was completely sapped, and my head was all full of…well, fullness. My neck feels sore from trying to hold my head up. I’m so tired.

 Tomorrow is my first day at the new paid counselling gig. The man in charge has not phoned to confirm it is still happening. I am vaguely excited about the 1.5 hour travel either way; I like trains in a boy-i-wish-i-had-some-good-music-and-was-running-away-to-a-solitary-travelling-writer’s-life sort of way.

Consequences. Perhaps.

February 23, 2008

I find myself constantly repeating the phrase, ‘I’m approaching the limits.’ I don’t know specifically what the limits are or what happens when one zooms past them, but I suspect I might find out.

Twice in the past few days I’ve woken up feeling like I’ve just worked a very long, very tiring day – and am now ready for bed. This after very long sleeps. I am exhausted a lot of the time, and the stress of the long list of tasks is always hanging over my head like shit just ready to drop.

(Do you like that metaphor?)

Three more weeks and this course is done. I still have a lot of work to do for it, but some time will be freed up soon. I originally wanted to flat out work and Just Be Done Already, but think I may try to spread things out as much as I can – if only to postpone figuring out where the limits are.

At lunch today, we were discussing what type of breakdown we’d like to have – or, more specifically, where we would like to go to recover. I started the conversation. After much thought, I’ve decided I would like to remain sane but go live on a mountain in the woods. No contact with other people (except TMD and The Cat).

I cannot wait to move out of this city. I am going to update my cv with three cover letters – one for young people, one for those the psychiatrist today called ‘dangeously nuts’, and one for general places. I want OUT of Day Job. I never knew burnout could mean a sense of extreme boredom, but I could not be more demotivated if I was actually being paid to slack off. Oh, wait, I am.

People-friendly psychiatry.

February 23, 2008

Spent all day in a psychiatry-type training, and going back for more tomorrow. I’m tired. I didn’t really learn anything I didn’t already know in relation to symptoms and human emotions/behaviour, at least until we got to the part on psychosis.  Found it interesting learning about psychosis, depression, mania, etc – all these labels that apply to real people with real faces and real histories. I kept thinking about those I had worked with. I never thought of them in terms of graphs or labels or medical language.

I suppose I didn’t have that sort of specialist knowledge, but you know, I think that’s a good thing. Sometimes you don’t need to know the nitty-gritty details of disorders; the hardest thing, and the most important, is really to know the person.

I may or may not have dyed my hair orange.

February 22, 2008

High school was neither the best nor worst time of my life. I think this sets me apart from people – those still in high school, and those people who are busy remembering it.

I wasn’t distraught all the time. Nor was I busy being head cheerleader, fucking the football team with a smile on my face.  I was somewhere in between, and if I went back to high school now, I wouldn’t change that. The only thing that would be different now would be my level of confidence.

I’m still confused about a lot of things, still insecure in the areas I was nervous about as a teenager. I’m also still brave and risk-tasking and all the other good stuff. The difference is that the good stuff was mostly seen by people at my summer camp, not people at the school I went to. This time I’d be more okay with the bits where I didn’t feel okay. I’d be confused about my sexuality, but not really. I’d be openly bisexual, and no one would care because they would all be in awe of my bravery.

This time, when the principal yanked me into his office to ‘discuss’ my position paper on gay adoption, I’d be ready with more than downcast eyes and polite agreement. I’d still probably have dated That Boy, and maybe I wouldn’t have been so crazy this time around – except maybe I would, because that’s what first love does to you. I’d need that relationship to end so that I could find This Girl, but in the meantime there would be boys and girls – just like last time, except this time it would be okay.

I’d relish sitting outside with Mae more, whether by all night bonfires or on her roof. I would hug her mother and tell her just once, before she got sick, that I loved her. I would keep in touch with Mae after her (our) mother died, instead of leaving it fifteen years until social networking sites were invented.

If I was back in high school now, I’d have more body confidence. This would come from the knowledge (again, gained by social networking sites) that all the skinny, pretty people who were popular in high school would turn into not-very-skinny, semi-pretty people who would never really step out of their high school selves.

I’d get on birth control earlier. I’d have kissed that girl I was so busy fighting with all the time. I’d wear funky glasses and force myself more into the drama scene – perhaps transforming it from the geek squad of shitty actors into a geek squad of people wearing clothes so daring that principal would be angry – because we’d make sure to make sure they were still within the confines of the dress code.

If I woke up in high school tomorrow, I’d make smarter choices about my future. I’d ask MK to join a writing group with me, instead of hating him because he was so good. I’d sniff That Boy’s hair, so I could remember it more. I’d somehow find a way to connect with a gay community, somewhere. I’d be beautiful and blonde and bisexual – only this time I would realise it all. That I was bisexual, and beautiful.

I’d smoke a little more pot, not smoke any cigarettes, and not take that last sip of vodka. I’d hang with Gas Station J more, find some way to create a new social scene that was the best of her friends mixed with the best of my friends. I’d convince her to come back to camp.

I’d still have safe sex, fight with my parents, and get the very best grades. I’d just have more fun doing it.

Yes, high school wasn’t the best (who wants the best when your life has only started?), but it was not the worst. It was worse when I was younger. Every year I get older, it gets a little better. I do not miss high school. I miss university, very much, and the lifestyle and love I was surrounded with then. But high school?

What did I gain, really?

I guess the experiences of how to love and be loved. My first sexual experiences. Finally having a circle of friends. Sloppy kisses in the middle of the night behind Mae’s back. Mae’s mother. The unsettling experience of hating and loving my father after discovering him cheating on my mother. A stronger little unit: me, my sister, my mother. Screaming fights with my mother. Bell choir. The end of bad home perms. Political campaining experience – how we laughed in that little office, trying to persuade people to vote.

What did I gain? Four years of laughing and figuring myself out. Four years of not quite getting it right. Nerves and angst and extreme highs and lows. The first time I thought seriously about being a writer or a sex therapist (and fifteen years later I convert that ‘or’ into an ‘and’).

The question is also: what did I lose? A father. A secure home. My first true love. Myself.

I would like to take that younger me out for a good meal sometime, and just give her a little peak into what was in store. I’d like to look at her from another perspective, see what she was like, who she was. I think I’d like her. I hope she would like me.

Next question:

February 22, 2008

If you want tortilla chips bad enough, do you believe you can make them materialise?

Just a question.

February 22, 2008

Do you think it is possible to actually work from home?

I mean real work, not staying home all day watching tv and eating cereal.

If only we owned L Word series 4, this would all be alright.

February 22, 2008

I am a crazy, jibbering nervous wreck today. But at least I am not a crazy, jibbering nervous wreck who has cut.

Thanks for the small (huge) things in the world, I think that’s the key to not totally going nutzoid. Let’s just say that I’m not good with making choices about things that do not ultimately matter. I am also not good at things involving direction. When you combine the two – and do not return my phone calls – I go c-c-c-c-crazy.

I am also a wee bit obessive. Like, oh-sweet-jesus-that-one’s-phone-number-isn’t-even-a-[insertmycityname]-number-anymore-did-i-really-make-the-right-choice. Nice.