Hello December

I've been really sick, and really depressed. Those are my only two excuses for the blog lag.

Happily all went well with the neurologist appointment. He was a very kind doctor. Kind and compassionate, and intuitive. I found myself wishing he were my therapist rather than Dr Truth. But at any rate, he acknowledged/diagnosed my condition and told me I would be seeing him once a year to monitor its progress, and assured me that it's no cause to worry, and I do not display the symptoms of Parkinson's or MS. (Which were what I was largely afraid of.) To say I was relieved is putting it mildly.

Today was the first day this week that I went to work, but I left early because I'm still pretty ill. For 5 days now I just can't seem to feel comfortably warm. The weather's turned cold since the weekend and took my blood with it, it would seem.

So right now I'm wrapped in a blanket (doing battle with the wheels on my desk chair) and waiting for my laundry to finish, so I can throw it all in the dryer. I really had no desire to venture into the cold basement, but given the alternative of running out of clean underwear, I have braved the laundry room in the name of Joe Boxer. The real trick here, will be resisting the urge to bury myself in toasty-warm clothing when all that laundry comes out of the dryer. I may do just that before I do any folding.

On the Scooter front, we had a date on November 29th. As per usual, not as planned. Originally, he had said he'd take me to some great restaurant he loves (his treat) but when it came down to it, we went to Subway because he spends all his money on weed and his Christmas shopping has only just begun. No matter. All I've ever wanted is time with him. I got to meet his 3 month old kitten, Zoey. I took pictures of her with my new camera, that I got from Airmiles that day. We spent the evening watching The Munk Debates which I both fascinating and frustrating. I loved that they could have SUCH a civilized discussion with opposing view points for one. But I found it frustrating that such a poised and eloquent man as Tony Blair could be arguing in favour of religion. I don't know if someone less civilized would have satisfied me more, or what. But I found it strangely non-gratifying that his points were (in my opinion) so lame and candy-coated. Christopher Hitchens barely had to speak at all to debunk everything Blair said. In itself, I should find that rewarding given my stance on religion. I'll just leave it at that. I really enjoyed that Scooter wanted to watch it though.
By the end of our evening, he was of course high, and I was rubbing his feet. Putting him to sleep with a foot rub was preferable to getting him sexually aroused with a back rub, which he requested and I declined, knowing it would only lead to more mixed-messages and time apart. When he did fall asleep, I kept rubbing his feet for a while, watching he and Zoey asleep in his chair, and reminiscing about nights we've spent together in the past, that I'd probably sell my soul to repeat. Then, I gently woke him and told him I was going home.
We hugged. We kissed. We nuzzled. And I headed for my coat and shoes.
We kissed again, more passionately, which he ended.
I said good bye.
He said we'd talk soon.
I left, feeling more sexually aroused than I've ever felt.
We have not spoken since then.

And that... leaves me thinking yet again, with little doubt, that he is fucking with my heart yet again.

I don't understand it. I don't want to delve into it. I just know that the pictures of Zoey I sent him on the first (before the appointment, I expressed so much fear over - to him as well) is the last e-mail I will send him. There was no reply. Not even a "thanks". No inquiry into how I am after seeing the neurologist. And no discussion of further plans to see one another.

Long ago (weeks) was the last text message from me, and weeks before that was the last phone call from me. I just can't try anymore.

He doesn't contact me. He doesn't reply when I contact him. He does... not... care... about... me.
I can only conclude, that he invited me back into his life after almost 7 months of silence, just to show me yet-again, how little he cares about me. And I let him do it.

I can flip-flop between indignation, and determination on the head of a pin. Excuse his behaviour because he's just so fucking dysfunctional and damaged, and condemn his behaviour for the same reasons, but in light of what would seem a pretty cut-and-dried decision that he doesn't deserve anything I have to offer... I still love him. And though for my own good, I'm not going to try anymore, I will be here for him if he needs me. At least that's what I'm saying in this five minute interval. Ask me again in the next.

I guess I did want to delve into it. Of course I did.

Move on Johnny. Move on. Don't just walk away. Run.

There is nothing he could do at this point in time to make me believe he loves me in any capacity, as a friend or lover. I just can't give up on him. WHY!!!!!???? Why is my learning curve so long and slow? Why do I value this broken boy over my own self-worth?

Ugh.

If I've never mentioned before, my bedroom is aligned with the building's elevator shaft. I hear the movements of all 3 elevators diving and raising, night and day. Over the past few days, much of which I've spent in bed, I've noticed one of them making the most disconcerting noise. It's alarming. Almost like a metallic "yelp". I don't know which one obviously, or even whether it's ascent or descent. But is that the kind of thing I should report to the superintendent? I think I just answered my own question. And I think I'll do it right now. ...There. Did it. And the super, (ever-charming) said with a sigh, he'd call the elevator company tomorrow. Whether or not he does is another thing entirely, but at least an accident won't be on my conscience.

In other boring news, I'm quite pleased with myself that I replaced a CD/DVD burner in my computer. This is noteworthy because I have never opened a computer casing before, much-less removed or installed any hardware. I wouldn't have done so at all, had I not been tutored and assured by "Totty", our computer engineer at work. I did it, perched high on my balcony on Saturday, before I was feeling so deathly ill. (catalyst perhaps - 'cause it was so fucking cold.) I had to do it out there because "Totty" told me the casing would be filthy, since it was a dusty tomb that had never been opened in four years. Which it really was.
Since I did the deed though, and got it all back together successfully, my computer has been running so QUIET - Holy cats man! The fan has either been disabled (not beyond the realm of possibility) or doesn't need to run anymore because the circuit boards were cleaned with a can of compressed air. It's made talking on Skype with Lion so much more easy. (because I don't have to mute my microphone after everything I say to drown out the sound of the fan) - Nice.

Though I still haven't taken it upon myself to burn a CD to see whether the hardware works. *blush*

Tonight I may just finish off Season 3 of Arrested Development and go to bed early. I've cruised through so many episodes, so easily because it really is as good as it's acclaimed to be. Hysterical really.

I leave you with a song by Canadian indie artist Peter Katz, whom I first heard on CBC 2 months ago. There are no (written) lyrics for me to share with you (if only because I'm too lazy to transcribe it.) but he sings with great clarity, so you should be able to hear the words pretty well. This video contains a story of how the song came to be and the recording of Peter's part. It's pretty touching. 'Something I needed to finish a "why not give up" day with. I encourage you to give a click and listen to "Oliver's Tune" (this link contains the finished song) (but use the mp3 player in the top right hand corner, not the video, which is a tutorial of how to play the song).

Be Here Now

I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned "Dr Truth" in this particular blog. I think I've written about him elsewhere, but at any rate, he's my therapist. I meet with him every 2 weeks or so, and I've been seeing him for about 3 years or more now.

Only in recent months have I felt like I'm actually exploring useful territory with him. For the longest time I thought he was a pretty cold fish. Not very emotional and certainly not as empathetic as I'd like, but he chose his career path for some reason, and because I can't afford to choose my own therapist, he'll do.
But as I said, in recent months, I've really felt like I've had nothing to lose and things to gain from just pouring my heart out to him. Why not? He gets paid to listen to me, and really, no one else in my life hears the things he hears, because I'm a ghost. Meaning, people don't know nearly as much as they think they do, and I feel quite invisible most of the time.

Today I was talking to him about how different I feel I am. And how lonely I am. And how much I miss being touched and held and hugged.

He told me perhaps it's time to start dating.

It's the first time he's ever suggested it.

Most of the time over the past few years, he's been on the side of me taking time for myself and working on my issues and removing the complications - and remaining single. Lo and behold, all it took was 4-plus months of keeping to myself for him to change his tune. And his say-so wouldn't really deter me from dating if I wanted to, so I'm kind of inclined to not let it be an encouragement to begin again at this point when I really don't think I've spent enough time alone.

How do I know?

I figure it'll be time when I don't mind being alone anymore. That is not now. 'Cause truthfully, I don't want to be alone.

I miss Lion. I know now, he's not the one for me, but he's the closest I've ever come to being happy with a romance. Had Scooter not been ever-present in my mind while Lion was in my life, I might be writing this blog from Madrid. But things are as they are, and I still need to get over Scooter, and if Lion were the love of my life things would have turned out differently.

He was a sweet, sweet, picture-perfect romance to remember when I'm withered and old.

The affections and attentions of a 24 year old Spanish boy were mine for a time.

*sigh* I'll be Skyping with Lion tomorrow morning at 6am. It'll be noon in Madrid. We still talk a lot. I miss him. He's always going to have a place in my heart. I love to hear his voice.

I miss him singing to me off-key. I remember some humid days laying on his bed in his little apartment with him on top of me singing and speaking Spanish lyrics in my ear while he played me songs he loved.

Lion is a terrible singer. He knows it too. But he knows all the words, and he always has a song in his heart, so it makes his singing a very joyous and enjoyable thing. He doesn't really sing to me over Skype.

I love to watch him. I miss hearing him speak Spanish and watching his lips move unintelligibly to the beautiful sounds that came from his mouth.

Anyhow... enough reminiscing for today. At least thinking about Lion is more fun than recounting my visit with Dr Truth.

Song of the day, a song I've taken some solace in. It's gorgeous.

Be Here Now - Ray LaMontagne

Don't let your mind get weary and confused
Your will be still, don't try
Don't let your heart get heavy child
Inside you there's a strength that lies

Don't let your soul get lonely child
It's only time, it will go by
Don't look for love in faces, places
It's in you, that's where you'll find kindness

Be here now, here now
Be here now, here now

Don't lose your faith in me
And I will try not to lose faith in you
Don't put your trust in walls
'Cause walls will only crush you when they fall

Be here now, here now
Be here now, here now

Best Keep Moving

Heaviness is all I feel today. It's remarkable how I can feel sadness like a weight and yet ignore it. It's a new skill I think. Mind you, saying I "ignore" it isn't quite succinct. I feel it. I acknowledge it. But it's almost like I say to myself, "Ok... today's a sad day... best keep moving".

I've described it in conversations before but I don't think I've ever actually written anything down about it. For me... depression is just something carried around.

Some people are really angry all the time. Some, negative. Some bitter, critical, aloof; you name it. Some people are more one mood than they are any other. I just happen to be a sad sort. Chances are, even when I'm hiding it well, there's a sadness at work in me. And it doesn't even have to be over something tangibly mood-altering. I guess that's called depression. At any rate, I feel the heaviness today. For no significant reason.

I mean, yeah, I miss Scooter. I miss Scooter all the time. I'd be with him every day for as long as I could if he wanted me to be. But I tend to think that's influenced by the fact that he doesn't want me to be. Though he does contribute to my sadness, it's not even him that's weighing on me today. I'm just plain down.

And to that I say "oh well".

My latest homework assignment for The Artist's Way, is to write a thank you letter to the champions of my creative self. I don't think I mentioned that the previous assignment was to compose a list of champions and describe how they got the title. I was supposed to come up with 3, and I stopped at 8. It took me pages of writing. And all of it, had me welling with fond memories and admiration. I may be taking this course at my own pace and doing it slow, but I have to say it's really good for drumming up gratitude, and finding pride in myself. Even when I'm trudging through hurtful things.

On another note, I (with a few other co-workers) got a tour of our new office today. The move won't be happening til the end of January or beginning of February, but it's kind of nice to get a look at where we'll be. It's going to be a shorter commute for me. I have mixed feelings about that. I enjoy my commute. But I guess it will be a lesson in taking the time that I need for myself from other time, and not just because I have nothing better to do. ...That or I'll have to move farther away.

Ugh... just had a huge verbal scrap with a co-worker. I overheard him picking on someone and tore a strip off him. He went back to his desk fuming, and called me to tell me that it was none of my business, so I tore another strip off him and told him how "unliked" he is in the office. I think it was news to him. The truth hurts. I've had a rotten relationship with him for years now, but I've kept my venom largely at bay. I think it's on now. And I really don't care. If there were an HR department here, I'd haul his ass. His interpersonal skills suck. That boys-club-bullshit-I'm-just-teasing attitude burns my ass. One of my co-workers (the victim of abuse) has been growing his hair for months and it's been driving him crazy. I know he's self-conscious about it, because we've talked about it, and I have to listen to this other jack-ass tease him every day. I've told him to stop, and he doesn't listen.

It amazes me how often I'm willing to charge into conflict these days. I think I'm just tired of letting people behave like assholes unaware.

Song of the day... a lil hip hop. I won't bother with the lyrics, but I do like the word-play. I apologize if it's offensive. In all honesty, I just heard it for the first time today, so I haven't listened all that closely. Jeremiah "Down on Me". I just really like it. : )

A Life Full of Ticky Tacky

Quite obviously, Facebook is bad for my blogging.

Not to mention... I can't quite put my finger on it, but I have a theory that Facebook depresses me. Perhaps it's that other people appear to have more eventful/meaningful lives than I do, or perhaps it's all that activity and interaction going on, knowing full-well that people aren't really "thinking" about you, or wanting to spend time with you. They're just slapping a post-it note on your head to let you know you're still friends.

At any rate... I'm having a rough time of things this week. And "that" is also bad for my blogging. 'Cause nobody wants to read about how sad or lonely you are. I know this, because I don't want to "write" about how sad and lonely I am. And furthermore, I want to be one of those people who's perfectly satisfied with his own company, and uses the solitude to accomplish fulfilling things.

I just can't seem to get a handle on that yet.

Anyhow... anyhow, anyhow, anyhow... in much more enjoyable news, I have discovered just how much I thoroughly enjoy the show "Weeds". I've had the first season on DVD for literally years now and just this weekend, decided to crack the plastic and give it a whirl. The result was a 6 hour marathon to watch the whole thing because it was just that good. I just couldn't stop. The show in general is quite clever and volleys back and forth between provocative and humourous, but there are moments of incredible tenderness. One episode in particular ends with "this scene" (clicky clicky) where Nancy (Mary-Louise Parker) is watching a video of her and her husband Judah while they were making love. Poignant because Judah, is her deceased husband, and the entire premise of the show is her trying to care/provide for herself and their two sons after his death. Prior to what you see here, she has just gone through many things she never thought she'd do, and questioning her decisions with regret and takes a moment to reflect and allow herself to miss him. Her grief is not something they dwell on throughout the entire season, but when they do...
...Yeah... I cried a lot. It's unfortunate this particular youtube clip cuts off the song before it finishes throughout the credits, because it really is perfectly fitting and heart-wrenching.

"Ballerina" by Leona Naess (this link contains a rough recording of a live performance)

I'll never feel the weight of your hands
Inside mine, like diamonds
Lace so fine, ballerina
Cupcake and my earthquake
Wakes me from my sleep that
Never comes, are you breathing?
Waiting for me

I didn't really want you
But I want you now
Was so foolish of me
Feel you tumbling down
Into that empty room
The lights went out
I want to rescue, want to scream out loud

I didn't think I needed you
But I need you now
Was so empty, in me
Feel you crashing down
Into the empty world
The music stops
I want to rescue, want to scream out loud
You will always be mine

The room spins
Pull you from me
My body burns
Tell me all the rainbows
The colors that the rain throws
Ballerina dance softly
She knows when to come only
When she's called on, slowly coming to

I didn't really want you
But I need you
Was so foolish of me
Feel you tumbling down
Into that empty room
The lights went out
Want to rescue, want to scream out loud

I didn't think I wanted you
But I want you now
Was so empty, in me
Feel you crashing down
Into the empty world
The music stops
I want to rescue, want to scream out loud
You will always be mine

So, so sorry
Just come back for me now
So, so sorry
Just come back to me now
Or soon

I didn't think I wanted you
But I want you now
Was so foolish of me
Feel you tumbling down
Into that empty room
The lights went out
Wanted to rescue, want to scream out loud

I didn't think I needed you
But I need you now
Was so empty, in me
Feel you tumbling down
Into that empty room
The lights went out
I want to rescue, want to scream out loud
That you will always be mine...

Never Done

I'm not sure why I did what I did tonight, but nonetheless, I've turned down plans to get together with an aforementioned superficial friend in favour of being alone this evening. So here I sit on a Friday night with nothing in particular to do, and feeling rather mopey.

Of course I've been feeling mopey since Wednesday night. A likely side-effect of going off the meds I suppose. Which causes me more than a little bit of dread, because I'd hate to have to go back on them and endure the zombie state of reintroducing them to my system. *sigh* It's very difficult to admit to depression as an actual "illness". Even now, after enough years (taking pills) for me to lose count, I still feel like antidepressants are a cop-out for me. Like they're an excuse to shut-down and not deal with my real feelings. I have to remind (and justify to myself) that depression isn't "merely feeling sad". It's not some event that happens along that you have to mourn to overcome. And yet, I perpetuate my own stigma, by feeling the need to be pill-free. Truthfully, I don't like them. I don't like the sexual side-effects more than anything else, but I also hate the muted colour they help you see the world in. It took a year of suggestion from my doctor to get me to go on them because I just didn't want to. And I perish the thought of actually admitting to her that I've taken my own initiative to abandon them. I honestly think I'd rather drown in emotion than monkey around with different varieties as replacements or alternatives. I want to accept my sadness as a part of me that I can control and subdue and occasionally revel in when things get too hard to bare. It's one of my design flaws. Something I have to learn to love about myself.

Facing facts though... I'm crying... a LOT. Like every day. And that can't possibly be normal. In sticking with my cognitive therapy I do try to limit myself to a short period, and then just letting it go by rationalizing my grief and sadness, and countering it with gratitude for all I have to be thankful for. Gratitude is empowering and humbling. And I do have so much to be thankful for, that's it's really an exercise in blatant "assholishness" to dwell on everything that makes me miserable. My life is good. 'Better than good. I just have to keep my sight set on that.

I'm just so affected by people and things. I find it virtually impossible to not be. People are really awful to one another... and you don't even have to pay attention to the news to see it manifested in so many things. Malice and cruelty, selfishness and greed, fear, hate and just plain ol' apathy.

Of course that's not my only source of woe. I'm lonely. Mind-numbingly, aching for companionship, and someone to just take a genuine interest in me. But then, that could be labelled ego I suppose. Since this past 8 months has been the first time in so many years that I've actually been alone I think I'm feeling the isolation with a little more magnitude than I would otherwise.

Anyhow... woe is me... boo hoo hoo... just venting and giving words to some unexpressed thoughts. I will be ok. I always am. And with good reason. I am blessed and thankful. No more dwelling.

Incomplete - Alanis Morissette (live video in link)

One day I'll find relief
I'll be arrived and I'll be a friend to my friends who know how to be friends

One day I'll be at peace
I’ll be enlightened and I'll be married with children and maybe adopt

One day I will be healed
I will gather my wounds forge the end of tragic comedy

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time
Of being forever incomplete

One day, my mind will retreat, and I'll know god and I'll be constantly one with her night dusk and day
One day I'll be secure, like the women I see on their 30th anniversaries

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time
Of being forever incomplete

Ever unfolding
Ever expanding
Ever adventurous and torturous
But never done

One day, I will speak freely
I'll be less afraid
And measured outside of my poems and lyrics and art
One day I will be faith-filled
I'll be trusting and spacious authentic and grounded and whole

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time
Of being forever incomplete