Downwards

You know, I tried to hold out on writing a post simply because life has been the fucking shits and I’m using whatever energy I have left to not pack my bags and flee to somewhere warm like New Zealand. But right now, I don’t care. My blog, my rant and if people don’t want to read a foul mouthed person, then don’t read it. I AM WOMAN, HEAR ME ROAR.

Where to start... Oh yeah, how about May Long camping? Bullshit is what it was.

Our escape from the city to a place where there were no televisions, no phones and no computers turned out to be a fucking rave party of some goddamn sort. I knew there would be partiers, but are you serious? We had two groups beside us playing their lame trance crap until six-in-the-goddamn-motherfucking-morning. I shit you not.

And then, coming back home, made me realize even more how badly I’ve been feeling like shit. It was at that point that I fully understood Talking Shit About a Pretty Sunset by Modest Mouse.

I’ve been feeling like there’s something missing in my life. Don’t get me wrong, I do have wonderful friends and a wonderful fiance... but... something just isn’t right.

I’ve never been one to want to travel the world, but lately I feel like I’ve missed out on some glorious places and people. Most people would think, “Just go out and travel!” but it’s never that simple. It’s called a fucking stable job and a mortgage. Maybe it’s just because I miss my sister so much, who’s currently traveling Italy. Again. For the second time. Ugh.

Oh and about this job? You know, it’s not pleasant having to wake up every damn day feeling like you’re living a lie. Dead serious. I feel like I’m living a lie. The business world is not me. A desk-job, office life is not me. The attitude these people have is not me. THESE FUCKING CLOTHES I’M WEARING IS NOT FUCKING ME. The fact that I can’t wear skirts to work because of the tattoos I have and the fact that I have to now remove certain piercings (eyebrows, earrings, etc.) is not me.

But then what the fuck is me? Over the last decade, I have been one of the unfortunate people who’s had their creativity and ambitions crushed by depression. I envy those whose mind is only fuelled by their depression to the point that they are able to come up with creative works of art. I’ve lost myself over 12 years ago, and I’m not entirely sure who I am. So how the hell am I supposed to figure out what I want to do? I’m only bringing myself further down by working in this career.

But maybe all this is brought by the shitty weather we’ve been having. It has been raining non-effin-stop, and the moment the sun shines through the clouds it goes back into hiding and it starts pouring again. And this has been going on for weeks. FOR WEEKS. I CAN ONLY HANDLE SO MUCH FUCKING PISS FROM THE SKY.


Seriously. I received that in an email this morning. It isn’t a lie.

Now, let’s get into my issues my body is going through from all this crap. I’m not sleeping well so I’m always tired. I’m beyond irritable and on edge. I’m lacking an appetite. I’ve got the runs. Oh, and occasionally my eye will start twitching like a lunatic who just got sprayed in the eye with lemon juice.

I’m too exhausted, mentally and physically. I’m feeling like a lost child in a massive department store crying for help but there’s no one around to hear the cries because it’s after store hours and I got locked in.

Yeah, that’s right, locked in.

God, I’m losing my mind. I need to figure things out, but I need to figure out where to start.

Cheap Treat?

I think it’s fairly clear that I’m in a slump. I feel the need to treat myself to something.

I want to get dolled up and go out. I’m tired of the same old jeans and t-shirts. This seems like it’d be such a simple task, but I don’t feel like being the person who is all dressed up with no where to go and the person I’d like to get all fancy with is not a fancy person at all (aka the Future Mister).

I’ve thought about maybe dying my hair and getting a nice hairstyle, but hair colouring is expensive and I wouldn’t know what sort of hairstyle would look good for me.

I’ve thought about going on a small shopping spree. Then I remembered that, too, involves money and God only knows I hate shopping for clothes.

A spa visit would be nice, but damn those cost quite a bit of money.

Money seems to be a huge issue for me. Not only do I not like the idea of spending money on myself, but money is tight when you have a mortgage, bills and a wedding to save for.

I do have a tattoo gift certificate that will treat me nicely, but I’ll still have to wait months until I can actually get an appointment.

If only treating myself were cheaper.

The Getaway

I’ve been busy. Lame excuse, I know. But seriously, I have been busy.

Since the beginning of March, I’ve been finding that there aren’t enough hours in a day to get things done. This has caused me to be severely irritable, impatient, annoyed, frustrated, tired and I could go on, but I won’t. Even the weekends aren’t long enough to get shit done. I guess it doesn’t help that we had ANOTHER snow fall warning and had a full week of snow. In May. “April showers bring May flowers.” LIES. ALL LIES.

Last week, I took a flex day from work. I normally despise taking time off, but I was desperate. Desperate mentally and physically.

You know it’s time to take a break when: you start muttering obscenities under your breathe when your phone rings or when coworkers approach you; you start taking old school wooden pencils and snapping them just so you can break something; you break your computer mouse because you are so goddamn frustrated and have to bullshit to the IT department on why you need a new one; you freak out at the senior manager of your department because he’s making you so fucking angry.

Yeah. Enough was enough.

Work still has not slowed down, especially with our largest event quickly approaching (this also does not include the few other events that we’re hosting that are also extremely large), but I’m trying to pull through as best as I can.

Presentations! Meetings! Corporate World! Screw you.

I swear to you Internets. This May long weekend I best be going camping. For the last month, I’ve been itching to escape. Anywhere, but here. A place where there is no television, no phones and no computers. I realize that it’ll still be cold, but I don’t give a damn.

I just need to get away from it all.

The Funk

This just fucking sucks.

What the hell is wrong with me. A funk. That must be it. I’m in a funk.

My mood is getting worse with each day and I have an idea why, but really? An idea why doesn’t help solve anything.

Girls’ night out last night SUCKED. Well, it started off okay. But the music played, the atmosphere and the crowd at the place we were at? SUCKED ASS.

Ugh. Just thinking about last night is making my head hurt.

Holy fuck. It’s 3 degrees Celsius outside. Old Man Winter, take a fucking hint – GET LOST. Until I gain about 100 lbs of pure fat to insulate my body, don’t come around here.

I’m refraining from going through a box of pencils and snapping each one in half.

What the… One of the guys I work with just answered his work phone with, “Hi, Dominos Pizza.”

OOH. HAAAH. AND, get this, last night I ate a small piece of chocolate in hopes that it’ll make me feel better. Sure this doesn’t seem like much, but people, I’m allergic to chocolate. The last time I ate chocolate, let alone had a craving for it, was seven months ago. I WAS DOING SO GOOD. The worst part? THE FUCKING PIECE OF CHOCOLATE DIDN’T HELP.

That, alone, made me want to cry.

I think I’m going to take a short break from writing on here. I have nothing productive or good to write about. I need to seriously figure out what the hell I’ve got to do to get me out of The Funk, BEFORE I go into PMS mode.

Should Have Been Called Mad Cow

Well, I may as well admit it. I mean, it’s not as if it isn’t obvious enough.

I am in a foul, foooooouuul mood.

These last few days I’ve been on the edge. Angry, irritable, frustrated.

And let me tell you; it certainly does not help The Mood when it is a fucking 6 degrees Celsius outside. It is September 14 – I SHOULD NOT BE WEARING A WINTER JACKET RIGHT NOW.

Actually, that last part is my fault. I seem to have forgotten my jacket-wind breaker-type thingy at a friend’s house last night. BUT STILL. It should not be that cold outside that I have to resort to a winter jacket. It’s raining a hell of a lot and it is damn cold.

I HATE the cold.

I seriously cannot stress that enough. Seriously.

I do not like dressing in layers. I do not like wet shoes and socks. I do not like frozen body parts. I do not like nipplitis. I do not like putting away my summer clothes and skateboard.

I’m seriously thisclose to stomping my feet.

It is that bad.

And I can’t help but wish that I could go on vacation. Again. Even though I just had a vacation two weeks ago. Or something.

It is becoming far too difficult to refrain from punching someone in the face.

I should have just stayed home today.

I have a bad feeling that when I go through my menstrual cycle for this month that it’s going to be ugly.

Maybe my body is just preparing me for the wretched PMS to come.

Perhaps my body is all, “Watch out bitch, ‘cause it’s gonna be a rough week this month.”

I am so not looking forward to that.

Barely Surviving

Geezus. Okay. Quickly folks, while I have a few minutes.

IT HAS BEEN G’DAMN, FUCKING INSANE.

I’m still alive. Barely.

It is Day 7 of The Madness and I still have three more days to go. Will I survive till then? Doubtful.

I’ve got stuff to write, but no time to write. Tonight will officially be the first night I have to myself. ALL TO MYSELF, NO ONE AROUND. What will I be doing? Leaving the computer off, not answering any phone calls, eating healthy, maybe go for a walk aloooooone, sitting on my ass watching television and possibly passing out from exhaustion.

Only three more days.

Only three more days.

Only three more days.

Just keep telling myself that and maybe I’ll manage to pull through.

It's Safer If You Stop Reading Here

Absent. Or something. That’s what I am: absent. Or, (insert really long pause)

I can’t even finish that thought or sentence or whatever you want to consider it.

That is how tired I am.

In exactly a week, the organization I work with will be hosting our largest event. This event comes around every year and is known world wide. And have ONE DAY, I SET YOU DAMN OUTLOOK REMINDER FOR ONE DAY, NOT ONE HOUR, BEGONE BEAST. Geezus. As I was saying, have I mentioned how tired I am?

One week to get every thing set up and organized. One week to ensure that, aside from my regular work type stuff, that the committee I assist is good to go for the parade. And I’m sleepy. And maybe because I only got four hours of sleep last night. And the night before. And before. And before. And rinse, wash, repeat.

Yes, I know. Shut up. Stop complaining. Wah, wah. JUST GET SOME DAMN SLEEP ALREADY, WOMAN.

This is where I start whimpering. Yes, I do have a trademark whimper. No, seriously, I do. It’s rather cute, so I’ve been told. But then again I’ve also been told that it’s cute and HOT when I get angry. Maybe that’s why my friends purposely try to get me angry. Little do they realize I BITE! HAHAHAHAHAHAOAH0H0AHA0.

Fuck.

Anyway.

Wait, I need to scroll back up to see what I was writing about.

Haha, oh yeah.

So, yes I know, just get some sleep already. But I try! I really do try! In fact, I even have a cute bottle of prescription sleeping pills that look like orange squishy Tic-Tacs. So what is my problem? And more so, why am I still never getting any sleep?

Simple answer to such a complex question! Or… is it simple question and such a complex answer… I have no clue.

I try to avoid taking these orange squishy Tic-Tack-like magical pills because I am fearful of forming an addition to them. C’mon, don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about. Do I really want to be writing from a rehab centre as a pill-poppin’ sleep sedative addict? No. Not really. May be amusing, but no. And yes, it is something I’m worried about and would rather not risk.

So instead, I opt for ridiculous NONSENSE because I cannot for the life of me form a thought or sentence that makes sense. Or keep my eyes open.

BUT! AH-HAH! A BUT! It is the Canada Day long weekend! Which means lots of rest and relaxation before the MADNESS begins. And fireworks! Oooh, this makes me want to write about my pyro days! As a wannabe pyro! And how I couldn’t be left alone with anything that could start a fire! And how I accidentally almost lit a male’s crotch on fire! Oh and how I almost accidentally lit a boyfriend’s room on fire! And my high school Light-A-Fest fiesta! With the Doors coming to light my firrrrrre! And how after this I’m going to be thoroughly disgusted with exclamation marks!

And how I better quit now while I’m ahead. Period.

Oh and by the way, get this. From what I've been told, how I write and express myself (whatever you want to call it?) is exactly how I am in real life. I don't do the whole, OH let me write something and go off into whateverthehellitis and really it's a disguise. No. Nothing like that. So you all should be grateful that you're not around in Cowtown to witness the insanity that is Me right now. I'm seriously considering hiding at home today from the outside world.

Slowly Being Drained

I’m not feeling up to par today. I’m so exhausted and still sick as hell.

My dad called me at work today to see how things are going for me, whether or not I’m feeling better. I simply told him no. After telling my pops what symptoms I’m feeling he proceeds to tell me that it sounds more like a flu virus than a cold.

Great. < /sarcasm>

Part of the reason why I’m feeling so lousy, aside from the cold/flu/whichever, is that I am being completely drained by the NHL playoffs. I am not kidding when I say that it is extremely difficult and tiring being a hardcore fan.

Since April 21, I have watched every Oiler game religiously. By doing so, this has caused me to lose many hours of sleep. It is also exhausting when you’re not a superstitious person but suddenly you are. For myself, I am not a superstitious person. I believe in one superstition and that is “knocking on wood three times”. That’s as far as it goes for me. During the playoffs, though, and every year in the past that I can remember, I turn into a psychotic irrational freak. Each playoff and occasionally during the regular season, I find myself coming up with new superstitions.

So far this playoff run, this is what I have come up with:

1. For a few games, at the beginning of the playoffs, my sister and I noticed that the Oilers would always score a goal shortly after we spoke with each other on the phone. When the game was on and either one of us felt like ohmygod! the Oilers may get this damn puck in the net! we would call each other up and BAM! Just like that, they’d score. This superstition was short lived due to one particular game where we tried this trick and instead of the Oilers scoring, the opposing team would score.

2. Having my MSN left on during the game and having a specific nickname and specific picture display. On game day, I am henceforth known as ‘GO OILERS GO!’ and my display picture is the one of me in my favourite Oilers’ shirt. If this routine is not done, I fear for the worst.

3. Oh, and if I miss a game and they lose? I will fully hold myself responsible and beat myself senseless. If I watch a game and they lose? I will curse the Lucky Panties and stop wearing them.

4. Ah yes, the Lucky Panties. I had worn my Lucky Panties during the Anaheim and Calgary game and it was the game that the Flames lost and were officially out of the playoffs. However many days later, I happened to be wearing the same Panties during an Oiler game. It was at that point that the Edmonton Oilers started their winning streak. Since that point, I have worn my Lucky Panties for every game. This brings me to the exhausting portion of being a hardcore, superstitious freak. Because I am sooo not disgusting, I make sure the Lucky Panties are washed before each game. Since each game is every second day, this requires a hell of a lot of washing. I either find myself scrounging for laundry to do an entire load or I’m washing the Panties by hand.

5. After I get home from watching the game, I must then change my MSN nickname from ‘GO OILERS GO!’ to ‘Thank YOU, Lucky Panties!!!’ (with the exact number of exclamation marks). This here must be done because heaven forbid the Panties are not thanked and clearly appreciated.

6. Lastly, I firmly believe I have to have numerous beers during the game or else it’ll bring bad luck. And yes, I am totally serious about this one.


As I was finishing up the phone call with my dad, he told me to be sure that I get plenty of fluids to aid the “flu” and that NO, beer does NOT count as a fluid.

I’m almost certain he was shaking his head on the other line as I told him that it would be a curse if I failed to drink tonight.

Intermission

Well, I’m proud of myself. I managed to last almost a week without breaking down, but I guess last night was the last straw for my emotions. I’d been doing so well trying to forget things and trying to think of the things that make me smile. It must be the complete lack of sleep, my poor appetite and the constant reminders that brought me down; in fact, I know it’s all those things. Right now, I need to try -again- to recollect myself. Until then, until I continue with my idea of venting and letting it all out, here are Parts 1 and 2.

Thanks for the support, y’all. (Please note, honestly, that’ll be the last time I use “y’all” – ugh.)

Until Next Time...

Tuesday, late afternoon, may have been the hardest point in my life in a long time. I can’t say just yet… I’m still trying to comprehend and let it all sink it. In the end, I hope I’ll be okay. Since then, it has been very difficult. I’ve lost all appetite and sleep is worse than what it was. Concentration is none. And just when you think that you’re all out of tears, it comes back, creeping up on you, like it never left. I’m trying to be strong. I’m keeping my friends close by. It’s times like these that I know who will be there for life.

Right now I am focusing on moving on and figuring out how I’m going to get there. I will try my best to not fall back on my most despised resort. Soon, I can only hope, that I will have two simple, but incredible words when put together, tattooed on my wrists. With these two words, one word on each wrist facing me, I hope that I can be reminded that when things seem overwhelming and that it feels like there is no escape or hope that I need to Stay Strong and not give in.

Stay Strong

in the most beautiful, cursive writing.

Until I can figure things out and try to get by without crumpling into a sobbing puddle, I will not be able to focus on anything else (aside from work, which has been very difficult just to get through the day). I hope that sooner than later I will be back to write of my stories that bring back such wonderful memories and that I’ll be able to share my tales of stupidity, excitement and if I can muster up enough strength… maybe even my tale of loss.

I’ll be around. You, the Internets, help me to take my mind off things. Whether it’d be for a minute or 10 minutes, your stories help. So don’t stop writing because I’ll be here reading.

Until I return…

Technical Difficulties

Issues, folks, I am having issues.

Sleep? It’s nearly non-existent. Yeah, hi? I’m just the girl in the back of the training class who’s dozing off because she can’t keep her eyes open.

Absent-minded? Yes! Forget your work shoes at home because, you know, it’s cool wearing business attire and then wearing your fucking muddy DC’s around the office.

Procrastinator? Of course! Because it’s okay to wait six months to submit a health care claim at the last minute. Literally.

Chicken shit? Naturally, that’s me! I’ll just keep putting off the phone call to my dad because I’ve been too lazy to check up on that website he has been asking me about so that I can put my two cents in.

Lazy? Hahaha. You folks obviously haven’t seen my place. In the words of Xtina? Dirrrrrrrty.

Confused? Oh so very confused. Blogger? Yeah, I can’t seem to figure this and that out. Comments aren't commenting. Posts aren't posting. Screw it I say; I’ll leave it as is!

Focusing skills? NONE. Who am I kidding, I can’t even finish this entry because I’ve seriously got to get my ass into gear and phone my dad.

[Edited to Add]

Okay, Blogger, it's just you and I. Let's fight it out and start working together. You see all that text above? Yeah, that was supposed to be posted LAST NIGHT. Currently, it's the NEXT DAY and you are not showing. To make matters worse... it's St. Patrick's Day. WHERE IS MY GREEN?! NON-EXISTENT.

Thank God it's Friday.

Pointless Ramblings of a Monday Morning

I have no idea what is wrong with me today. I.can.not.seem.to.focus. Maybe my problem is that it’s 10:30 a.m. and I haven’t had any coffee yet. Or maybe it was the fact that my weekend sucked, my desk at work looks like its been struck by a tornado, I’ve got a crap load of projects/presentations to do and I can’t even remember what they all are, another friend of mine is getting married (I’m extremely happy for her, but whatthefuck? what about me? Sorry, jealous side), or maybe it’s because I AM SO FUCKING SICK OF WINTER I WANT SUMMER AND SKIRTS WITH FLIP-FLOPS.

Why hasn’t a hot pot of coffee appeared already?

Dab-But-Try-Not-To-Pick

Fucks sake. I’m sick with a cold.

For the last week I could feel myself becoming sick, but I tried to ward it off by OD’ing on vitamin C, drinking lots of fluids and attempting to rest. Well, yesterday was the day that my body decided to give in. I’m sneezing, I’ve got a sore throat, I feel horrid and the worst part of it all? my nose is runny.

I hate, hate, having a runny nose. I hate runny noses as much as I hate the sound it makes when it’s being blown. Horrid, horrid sound. It disgusts me even to hear other people blow their nose. I have no idea what it is about it that I dislike so much.

I can’t blow my nose like a “normal” person. Because I have three piercings in my nose, all that jewelry gets in the way of a comfortable blow (as if there really is a comfortable blow). So instead I do the Dab-But-Try-Not-To-Pick. I dab my nose, but dab enough so that I get rid of that nasty snot while making sure it doesn’t look like I pick my nose.

Too much detail, I know.

So now my nose is bright red, stinging and sore. I’m deep down in the dumps and I’m going to bring everyone down with me (like I was going to suffer alone!).