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Wednesday, August 13th, 2008
9:03 pm - The Days are Long but the Years Fly By
So, it's been awhile.  My hair is different.  A few other things have changed but the beat goes on. First to the changes and then to the beat. 

I've moved across the country - that's the change.  Same continent, same air, dirt seems to be the same, and that's the beat.

I like my new home.  Vancouver Island on the far west coast of Canada; mountains, oceans, great big trees.  There is lots of oxygen here and water falls out of the air ALL winter long.  Here I am in rainforest country and like everything around me, I've been growing bigger in a svelte kind of way.

Let's see, it all started with the utter disintegration of my life in Ottawa.  That fell apart with some magnificent drama which involved various paramedics and the complete abandonment of a whole bunch of stuff.

I came out here to reacquire more stuff and got sidetracked by a few things.  Like maybe it's time to stop being a desperately sad alcoholic.  Maybe it's time to stop being a desperately sad, lonely alcoholic.  Maybe it's just time to stop.  So, I set the stage for one more mega dramatic escapade and that launched me into the stop.  I started the stop and now it's done.

This is terrific because, as I like to point out to myself, the whereabouts of my shoes, keys, wallet and car are much clearer in my mind when I wake up in the morning.  Awesome, sobriety improved my life by 62%.  At least.   And that's the change, so here's the beat:

I hadn't really changed.  All twisted up, that quivery ball of anxiety and tight that I'd always been.  What to do?  Where to go?  Where the hell did I put that capacity for change?  I just knew it was around here somewhere...So there's the change but there's also that pulsing, rhythmic beat which kept me moving to the same old dance.

So I went to Alcoholics Anonymous thinking:  "a bunch of drunks won't reject me". It turned out that I was ever so correct about that; far more correct than I ever imagined at the time.  Enter  Mr. Had Me From Hello. So, next thing you know I'm listening to Deepak Chopra, being read to in a Queen size bed and doing other things in that bed besides exploring my spirituality.  I was blown away, my sense was (and sort of continues to be), "this can't be happening".  Clear and sober, the love of my life by my side, a stimulating job...

My heart rate became elevated all the time - the beat ceased to be a whispered rhythm and became a big bangboom.  Jean was back to life.  So now I'm in the neighbourhood I never should have left  in the first place - what now?

The beat speeds up .  The awareness that I live in the WORLD, not my ROOM.  This is exciting stuff.  Too bad I'm not 18 anymore. Or is it?

Dusting off my shades; looking into the future. 

current mood: jubilant

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Tuesday, May 10th, 2005
8:52 am
Pass the Robaxacet.

Mmmmm, Robaxacet. I hate the pills themselves because they're big and make me gag, but I have a feeling that without these horse tranqs I'd be in even more agony than I already am. Me, who rarely gets even a headache or a backache - I have the sickening feeling that something is crunching in my spine and let me tell you, sweet and lovely people, Jean's back is becoming a whole 'nother person. I think I'm going to have to strap my computer to my hips and work while walking. Sitting is just killing it, compressing it even further. By the end of the day I'll be so much worse than I am right now.

I love complaining. I am serious, I love complaining. It's such a guilty pleasure, like chocolate.

In other news, my Eskie got into her first real dogfight the other day with a Manchester Terrier. I love the Manchester Terrier, looks like a miniature dobie. The terrier was off her leash and when mine lunged the cosmic forces made her collar snap off - it's tricky putting your hands into a mess of snarling flashing canines, but we did it and both of us laughed when it was over. Couple of crazy bitches! Neither were hurt, they were snapping at air mostly.

Gossiping with neighbours yesterday about the overweight, stupid whiny one who lives under me and has had fourteen, count 'em, fourteen (the super has been keeping track) early Sunday morning hand holding walks with different men in the past few months. Some of them are even acceptably cute, where the hell is she finding them was my query? Apparently she goes to 'singles dances'. I'd rather put a plastic bag over my head and inhale deeply one final time - but you don't meet men while you're driving your car to the grocery store OR at the grocery store, that's just one big lie.

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Wednesday, January 12th, 2005
7:17 pm
Oh boy, did that ever suck.

We've got what's called "freezing rain" here, to all of you Floridian Georgian Californians, I hate you. Anyway it hasn't made the roads icy yet, but they're incredibly slushy and Sean had a hockey game in a remote arena that can only be travelled to through those back rural roads that don't believe in streetlights.

I made it about 1/4 of the way and felt I just couldn't go on. I was literally terrified - my windshield was fogging up, the car was being pulled all over the place by the snow/ice and with all the slush completely covering the lines in the road and my horrible night vision and blindness in my right eye leading to a complete lack of depth perception I felt that I wasn't in control at all. I decided to turn around.

Sean is really pissed off, he loves playing hockey and he had a friend with him, I suspect he was embarrassed by my incompetence. Perhaps I should see his anger and raise him with some rage of my own but I doubt he knows I was having a panic attack on a rural route in the middle of nowhere. Though I did pull over to calm down before turning around.

Did he ever slam the car door hard when I dropped him at his father's.

These little life anecdotes only really work in an interactive journal community if the experience can be connected to something similar in the reader's life. If feeling like an incompetent wreck (though of course, none of you really are, including moi) has ever visited your inner world, then let's hug. We'll do the hug 'n heal thing.

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Monday, January 10th, 2005
6:56 pm
I'm having Kraft Dinner for supper tonight and I'm so freaking excited. I haven't had any pasta for about 18 months (Atkins) but I was just in the mood. I'm going to put way too much butter into it.

Oh man, I'm starving.

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3:15 pm
I've been too busy to livejournalize today because I'm focused on constructing "email broadcasts". This is a sanitized word for SPAM. I rationalize that it's not technically SPAM because all of the people in my database are past customers and therefore, artists, and I think they'd want to know that we've reduced prices on oil paints. Don't you? Then again I'm worried about it because if anyone reports this as SPAM I could get TOS'ed and then I'd lose my internet connection and end up homeless and die.

I talked my sister into lowering prices for January on a see what happens basis. We need more growth and there's two ways - margins or volume. I want to go the volume route. I like the jazzed feeling I get when there's lots of orders in the queue.

Anyway, enough business talk. My son left for university yesterday after a deliciously long break. My daughter and I fought on Saturday (Conor referee'ed.) but all has been resolved. I mean, could any of you tolerate having to watch the ENTIRE Cody Banks, Special Agent movie? I couldn't do it and chose to appropriate the remote with the parental mantra "I paid for the tv, I pay for the cable". I'm so fucking annoying, no wonder she was enraged.

Sometimes I do things that I know are wrong and yet I'm so morally lazy I sally forth anyway. Always end up regretting it. I should take the approach of - don't do it if you know you're going to suffer for it later. An impulsive nature really fucks you in the end.

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Friday, January 7th, 2005
8:29 am
I've got gmail! I can invite four people. Who wants in? It's internet cache, people! (can't figure out how to get an accent on that e.)

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Thursday, January 6th, 2005
7:52 pm
I'm happy. My son is coming to pick me up at nine and we're going to Tim Horton's. I'll be able to escape the carpet crew and spend some quality coffee time with him. He just left after helping me drag all of my living room furniture into the kitchen and with a 6'4" 200lb male around..it was light work. Then we ate Chinese food and talked about a hundred different things.

He goes back to university on Saturday. I guess the bright side of that is I'm getting my car back.

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2:57 pm
Apparently I'm the source of some concern from my sister Kathy and my parents. I'm upset about that but I know that my anxiety levels have increased to the point that I'm having little panic attacks while doing simple things like...driving and going to malls - when my parents were down recently they wanted to take Laura Lynn and I out for dinner and I basically requested that we order in instead. Is agoraphobia in my future? Let's hope not. Perhaps it's time for a trip to the doctor to get one of those nifty new anti-depressant/anti-anxiety type meds. I hate to do it but I think I need a "reset".

There are things going on at work that have been stressing both Kathy and I quite a bit and I think it's "converting" into free floating anxiety.

Damn, I hate being such a "delicate" type, it's embarrassing.

Tomorrow the carpet crew comes to replace my pre-Christmas flooded rugs and the idea of having strange men banging around in my apartment for hours is freaking me out - but going to the mall or something like that wouldn't make me feel any better. We're getting 30 cm of snow overnight. Great. I hate driving in 'weather".

Diana's at physio right now and I'm waiting her for to call me for "pickup". Her back feels better.

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Wednesday, January 5th, 2005
10:44 am
I just got off the telephone with my beloved daughter Diana, an 18 year old goddess of epic proportions, and she is hurting, really hurting and it's driving me insane. Tonight dinner is all about what she wants ("chicken mom, I really love the way you do chicken"). She's going to get xrays and physio in a bit - driven by my son - her best friend and brother - Conor. (He's the one who claims to be the white sheep of this family and it's true, he is).

Apparently one of my proudest genetic contributions is a liability for my poor girl. Did you know that cash registers at retail locations are built for the height of the "average" woman? According to her doctor this can lead the Amazonians among us to put out our backs, and this is what has happened to D. Diana likes to talk about being tall constantly, it's pretty funny - it's her particular "blame Canada" rallying cry.

"Hey Diana, how's it going?"

"Tall, thanks".

You get the gist. There are tall references constantly, it's a family joke. She adores being tall, just as I do (and by the way, she's 5'9" and I win, I'm 5'11") Seeing as how she is doing the take off a year thing to save for university (good girl!) she has ended up working in a walmartesque discount store full time. She loves it. She chatters on about how she can't understand why people hate their jobs there - but she's 18 with a future and probably doesn't understand the difference in perspective if you're 34 and working at the Giant Tiger. Well actually, she does understand it theoretically because we've talked about it....

Anyway. The scary word that the doctor said was "scoliosis". That's what the xrays are checking. Now, I watch the discovery channel. I know the horrifying surgeries that are required to fix this.

On the other hand - the doctor is great and she's being cautious. So let's just sit tight, Jean, and not freak out.

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Tuesday, January 4th, 2005
2:07 pm
I think my animals are mentally ill. The mother and daughter cat team woke me up twice last night with horrible catfight sounds - I thought someone was going to get really hurt. When they fight the dog jumps into the fray - it's just this horrible opera of dog growls and cat howls - the dog's nose is scratched up and there are little bits of cat fur all over the place. Perhaps I should just let nature take it's course? There is no controlling cats obviously - and they're too old (even the kitten is fully grown now) to be adopted at the Humane Society. I worry that someone's going to put an eye out ... Maybe it's because the young cat is now a "teenager" and dynamics have changed. Damn animals.

Does anyone else have a hard time making posts? Like, starting to write stuff and then deleting it and starting again, etc? I do. LJ writer's block? Self consciousness? Maybe I just feel boring. I'm wrestling with an urge to delete all of the animal details above. I won't though. I promise. Perhaps the writing will get easier as I go along. Practice making perfect.

I think there's an undercurrent of horror at all of the tsunami news and images which makes anything I have to say feel irrelevant, indulgent and inane. My son and I were talking about how the numbers, as they grow, make this massive tragedy feel almost surreal, too big to be true. It's like when you find yourself laughing after the death of someone close to you - it takes a while before you can feel happy without immediately feeling horrible guilt. Like you are betraying something.

Oh I have to go now, I just got an email from Investors Insight which I simply must read.

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Thursday, December 30th, 2004
1:44 pm
It's so nice to walk outside and not have my face freeze to my skull like some kind of ancient wooly mammoth, lemme tell you. Today in Ottawa it's wonderful outside - if winter could be like this every day, I'd love it. The environment doesn't hurt and for that, I'm grateful.

Speaking of Tsunamis...I'm looking at pictures of white chix languishing on the beaches of Patong and I'm wondering what the fuck? As well, the news reports seem to be focusing on "tourist" casualties. Pretty disgusting.

In other news, all of a sudden (as in, today) it appears I need new glasses. Am I having a stroke? Can visual decline happen this fast? Aging. Bad.

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Tuesday, December 28th, 2004
11:35 am
Maybe I should start posting again. I'm not into the fancy schmancy theme thing though, so be prepared to be bored by my spartan web design. Perhaps you will be riveted by my words more that way. Uhh huh, riiiiight.

I'll get right into a description of my Christmas. We had prime rib. Wow, is prime rib ever good (and you don't have to stuff it, bonus). After the unwrapping which involved cd's, video games, necklaces, more cd's, lots of nifty shirts and multiple hat/glove/scarf sets, we watched Will Farrell's Elf (oh, I didn't mention dvd's, one of the boys got me Will Farrell's "Best Of", I do like Will Farrell but not that much, son! ). Then we ate, nobody fought. I was happy.

Two days before Christmas my apartment flooded. The carpets were so wet that if you stepped on them, water would well up and lap the top of my shoes. I was in tears thinking my Christmas was a write off, at best we'd be doing it from a crappy Best Western somewhere - then the landlord came to my rescue and got the creek bed dried up and sometime this week or next, I get new carpeting.

It's all good!

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Sunday, June 22nd, 2003
4:35 pm
I just put some windshield washer in my car, and that always makes me strut a little. There I am, a woman under the hood of a car. Yeah!

It's sweltering hot in Ottawa, and this week it's only going to get worse. Right now I'm typing and sweating simultaneously. Ewww. I've had two showers today, the last one about four hours ago, and I'm still damp. I think the word would be "clammy", one of the most repulsive words in the english language.

Here is a thought: people who think they're truly happy aren't concentrating very hard.

current mood: sweaty

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Thursday, May 29th, 2003
7:50 pm
People are seeming to get more and more fucked up as time goes by. Why is that? Is it me, or is it them, zat eez zee question.

I could classify a type that's been getting on my one damn last noive lately, maybe it'll help.

Well no that may be bad, because the measure of one's quality as a human being is a complete and utter lack of critical judgment of one's peers. Bah, screw that, here goes.

The Perpetually Enraged Victim

Here we have a person who, for whatever constitutional deficiency, can't accept being either powerful or weak. They need to place themselves in a "cat who just saw a strange Rottweiller in the Kitchen" state of high alert, magnificently puffied out in outrage for their rapt audience while simultaneously circling said Rottweiller with about a zillion other cats, realizing that a million bites out of a Rottweiller will probably kill it. Well, duh, why don't you just be the TIGER you are meant to be and look after your own damn ass?

I don't like the victim/bully. CHOOSE.Or maybe even, stand alone, do what you want, say what you want, if you're wrong, apologize, if you're right, stand your ground, if your friend fucks up, let 'em. Don't be the psychological receptacle for anyone's self esteem but your own. It makes things soooo much simpler.


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Tuesday, April 29th, 2003
9:58 am
Message Left in the Delivery Details Box:

Dear Mom, Time to start enjoying life again. PAINT!
love, Gary and Fran

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Sunday, April 27th, 2003
1:05 pm
Picking Up Diana

Usually on Wednesdays I have to pick up Diana after work at Wendy's. It's a very difficult night for me because I just can't sleep afterwards. No matter how exhausted I am (and I'm an early to bed/rise type the last few years - so midnight = exhausted for me) spending those 15 minutes with her in the car on the way back from that greasy burger joint always leaves my brain feeling so zapped that sleep is impossible until at least 2 am.

It's the girl's energy, it's too stimulating! There is no way that a human being can be around my daughter for 15 minutes in her pent-up "I have so many things to say to you" mode and fall asleep right afterwards. I defy anyone to do it.

So last night she gets in around midnight ...and both of us have to get up at 6:30 because she starts work early on Sundays...and she starts talking to me in that rapid fire fascinating way of hers and I have to tell her..."Diana, I can't talk to you for one more second if I want to get any sleep tonight."

We both laughed, she told me, "My friends say the exact same thing to me!". She needs a one woman show on Broadway, that girl. Listening to her talk is like watching a grasshopper jump from one space to another, perfect arcs but absolutely different locations in the blink of an eye. I can almost see the sparks flying off her head when she's in her Dianagroove.

current mood: amused

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Friday, April 25th, 2003
3:56 pm
Very Unprofessional but Damn, I feel Better Now

The story is irrelevant, let's just say this motherfucker cost us hundreds of dollars and is an immense asshole. This is the text of the email I just send him.

Ryan - the name is Jean, I see your ability to comprehend even the most
basic, fundamental realities of any particular situation are truly impaired.

The fact that the Customs Documents were in "Candidian" (it's spelled
Canadian, what you have written out is the name of an unpleasant disease) is
completely irrelevant to anything - we are shipping from Canada. All
currency is converted.

But have fun going to the "Consumer Protection Agencies". I'm sure they'll
be extremely concerned, launch a massive investigation and have us all
arrested. You defrauded us and we'll be happy to show all documentation and provide
all relevant details to the crew of 60 Minutes who are, no doubt, on their
way to us now.

(Not that I expect you to have come across shows like 60 Minutes as I'm sure
your television hasn't been off the Cartoon Channel for years, FYI it's a
hard hitting news investigative show. Look it up.)

current mood: angry - but getting over it

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2:45 pm
"I control my hair now, it doesn't control me."

Infusium, a revolutionary new Hair Conditioning product, is emancipating women! Jesus Christ is smiling and I'm overjoyed with my market driven, capitalist lifestyle right now. (Has Gloria Steinem heard, I wonder?)

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9:28 am
Survivor Last Night was a TOTAL BLAST

I don't care who knows it: I watch it, I love it, I hold my head up high. From the vapid Barbie Duo to the weasly Rob, to Pod Person Butch (where is that man's personality?) and wonderful Christy (yeah, GO Christy, GO Christy...) but Matt has to be my favorite so far. That combination of honesty, innocence and psychosis - who could ask for a more charming combination?

I do love these larger than life playouts of human behaviour. I don't think there's much more fascinating then the human animal and the incredible mental gymnastics we are all capable of. From justifying the "wrong" thing with the finesse of a shady politician to those who conduct themselves with dignity..to watch who gets rewarded, how, why..

So shoot me, I'm a vapid consumer of watered down non culture. I'm never bored in airports either.

So which Survivor would you be? Me, I like to flatter myself with the thought that I'd be....Ethan, from Survivor Africa. Or maybe Christy from the current Survivor. With a bit of the edge of a Deena, of course. (but none of that bossy arrogance, eeek!)

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Tuesday, April 22nd, 2003
8:58 pm
Impossible Objects

I like the idea of the impossible object, like the Mobius Band.

You never really grow up.

There's this woman that I met through work. She buys art supplies from our web site. So, we started "talking", usenet affects everything with me when it comes to talking to people through the ether.

It turns out, she was in this horrifying car accident, coma for five long months. The doctors advised her family to pull the plug. They demurred.

She woke up and went about the process of rebuilding, relearning, reliving. She met someone and moved from eastern Canada to California. One day, her grandmother came to her with a framed picture, and Cricket said, "ohhh, that's so beautiful", and her grandmother told her that she had painted it.

She experienced severe memory problems due to the brain injury she suffered during her accident, you see.

So she went to our web site and ordered a bunch of oil paints, they were delivered and she uncapped the first tube, the smell of the oil paints flooded her brain and memories came back.

Now she's painting up a storm. She sends me .jpg attachments on a daily basis. You've got to love the abilities of people sometimes. The ability of people to get back up, to keep on going.


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