I think the Anti-deps kicked in this morning

I was coming home from work feeling happy. And I noticed that it has been a while since I've been happy. Nothing major has changed in my life, I have worked the same job since March, and I've been living in this coop for about a year and a half. My dog is the same dog, but somehow all these things combined suddenly made me feel good. And a little grown up even. I spent all my twenties doing jobs that paid ten bucks an hour, and suddenly I am making just a titch over twenty dollars an hour. I have health benefits and a company pension. In other words, a real adult job. I'm living in a much bigger nicer 1 bedroom apartment than I have ever lived in on my own. When I think back to my apartment in bad manors I realize how squalid a life I lived there.

When I was a teenager Vancouver was the promised land, I would get a girlfriend and a nice apartment and be a famous video/filmmaker and walk on the beach everyday. Instead, well, you can just read my early entries in this blog to see what my life was like there. I was poor and hungry and didn't have good psychiatric care, as in an actual psychiatrist. I felt depressed every winter and felt very alone. And I could only have pet rats. Now I can't have pet rats, but my dog has a longer lifespan than a rat and I needed the commitment.

I think the antideps kicked in. I've actually had a very good life here in Saskatoon and now that I am on Wellbutrin in addition to my Celexa I can appreciate it more.

I've also realized, after being single for so long, that I don't NEED a relationship. I would be happy if I fell in love with someone who loved me too, but I'm coming to a point where I have discovered I can be perfectly fulfilled on my own. I miss sex with a partner, and I miss cuddling, and other things, but I have enough joy in my life that it's not painful to be without it.

Anyway, I feel good, and I'm doing well, and I am hoping that this signals the start of some extended stability.

The Sufferin' Dufferin

When I lived in vancouver in the late 90's early Oughts, I used to sometimes go with friends to the Sufferin' Dufferin. I saw drag shows there. I saw some naked men dancing with elastics for cockrings and white tube socks. I mean, does that count as naked though? I mean, they were wearing socks. Can you be naked with socks on? And do cockrings count as a piece of apparel, even if they are just rubber bands?

I'm 31 years old and I still have these questions.

Anyway, I have heard all kinds of wild stories about the dufferin and people's adventures there. I never saw anyone have their dick out for very long. It was such a funny place. I once caught a poster of a naked man and ended up giving it to a grateful 'mo friend.

But my crowning glory, my supreme achievement at the Dufferin, was on their pull tabs. One night I went out to meet a couple of friends at the Sufferin' Dufferin and one of them was trying so hard to win at pull tabs. And then I went and put in two dollars and won a hundred bucks.

I don't often win. Usually I lose all my gambling money. But once I won.

And he was so pissed off. I bought us all a beer.

It's long gone now. The money and the Dufferin. And I haven't been to Vancouver in months and months.

The Lotus is gone too, or at least, the lesbian version, I remember they always used to play that Spin Spin Sugar song while I was looking for The One. Out of a lot of drunk lesbians in the blacklight. Now they just have Lick upstairs? Do they? Heck, I don't even know anymore.

I never found a girlfriend at the Lotus. I found three at school and one at a festival through a friend and once my mom introduced me to someone I slept with a few times. I have never picked up in a gay bar. It's always nice going for the view though.

And I never picked up at the Dufferin. It was mostly the enclave of boys. Maybe that's why it was so fun, I could watch other people get all sexy with each other and not have any pressure on myself. Boys and Boys is hot. Why else do so many lesbians like gay porn?

Purple

Did you know that I wrote a blog on here last night and it vanished, probably because I was drunk and never hit publish before I shut my computer down for the night.

I've gotten to the point where I don't care about getting a girlfriend anymore. The ones I had weren't the nicest, except for a couple, and I don't even know what a relationship would contribute to my life. I haven't ever been in a monogamous relationship either and the longest relationship I had was only a year and a month.

Maybe I'm not suited for relationships. I am kind of used to the single life.

I don't really remember how I got into relationships before. I think it all started by asking to kiss certain beautiful women.

I just finished watching Coffy. Coffy Baby, sweet as a chocolate bar!

It's drink a straight bar gay tonight at Whiskey Jacks. I am going out to see if I can meet anyone cute, smart, and funny. Or just to be among homos! I even dressed up for it, I am pumped, I have no pink but there is some pink on my purple shirt. And I am wearing rainbow cuffs. And as usual I have tattoos and stretched earlobes and a secret hood piercing that GLITTERS! And short hair. I look like a dyke in other words, so I hope that makes up for the fact I'm not sporting a pink item of clothing as per the instructions to build queer solidarity in the midst of a normally straight enclave of drinkers.

Besides, Lavender/Purple is much more a lesbian color than Pink. In old timey days lesbians used to wear violets to signal to the other sapphic sisters.

So maybe I will ask to kiss someone tonight. I don't know!

The smell is mostly gone

Hello again. I think I have successfully linked fit of pique to my newer google account. I am getting tired of signing in and out of that account just to blog here.

I have been cleaning my apartment and making significant progress. Took out some trash and threw out smelly stuff and picked up in the bathroom. I might stay up and do more, like the kitchen. I'm actually getting really inspired by the idea of cleaning up my home.

I am definitely feeling the stress of realizing I am 31 years old and need to get my shit together. Like doing my taxes. And taking better care of myself and my surroundings. I feel like I have been failing at being an independent adult, and I definitely don't want to end up in The Home again. Or worse, Mum's Basement. That really sucks, you can never just be roommates because you've gotten locked into one dynamic.

I am boiling water for dishes because I need a plumber to come in and look at the hot water heater. And I won't get a plumber in until I can get this place looking decent again.

But really, I think I am doing some kind of nesting so that I can start to make some changes in anticipation of the next big romance. With . . . well who knows? But I really feel like I am not the best girlfriend in the world when I'm letting these small things get out of control. Seemingly small things. They add up.

And it takes away from my ability to create. So I need to nest and edit this winter. Well, I hope the editing won't take much longer.

Minor Mood Fluctuation

It's not SO BAD. It's just a minor feeling of sadness. I will be okay. I forgot to take my antidepressant this morning, and didn't take it on Sunday morning because I had to go to sleep and it would have kept me up. So here I am feeling low. LOW. Poop. But I think I will just try to do one thing this evening that will make me feel better.

I am going to clean my apartment.

I should! It's such a nice apartment and I need to get it in order. When I come home I sit and sit and sit in the living room or throw my clothes on the floor in the bedroom and crawl into bed. My bed sheets are dirty! i am a dirty girl! The bathroom is gross and the kitchen has dirty dishes and the living room is strewn with papers and XLR cables and other detritus. I am a detritus girl!

At least I am not a horder, otherwise there would be serious trouble. No, I have stuff, but not immense amounts of it. I don't come into my apartment and tunnel around to the bed and the tv and the toilet. I am not a lesbian gopher. I just sometimes have trouble seeing the floor! And I can't do tarot card readings until the place is cleaned . . .

and till I get the cards from Mum's house. I should recharge them, or whatever that is when you clean the energy and make it yours again. Recharging? Like a battery?

I am wanting to make some new short low/no budget video! I am fishing for ideas out of the ether. So far I haven't come up with something solid. That's what you get for sniffing ether.



There must be something I want to say, besides Hi My Name is Thirza and I am a Pot head. I mean, that's a really boring idea for a video. It's boring enough living that life without devoting five minutes to it! Ha ha! No, I need to think of something entertaining and political and intelligent and hopefully lesbian because there is more queer girls at those festivals. I'm still seeking a mate, I am expanding beyond Saskatchewan.

A blog as Suggested by Friends

I asked folks on facebook for some topics to write about. And this is kind of what came out of it.


The Engineering students at the U of S used to have this annual event where they would get a sex worker and have her ride a horse naked across campus, it was called the Godiva ride and it ended sometime in the late eighties. While I was looking this up I also found that other universities do or did the Godiva ride.

And I always wondered about the woman, like who was she, where did she come from, and what was her story, was she safe?

Next topic: DRUGS!!!

I don't have much to say about drugs today. I am taking about four psych meds a day, in various pill formations. Along with iron and some other medication. I think I am happier now, which is good, and still stable. Having strange dreams though. I had a dream I attacked this guy who tagged me out during an army entrance lazer tag competition. I threw him to the ground and then bashed his head into the ground twice and then was shocked I did such a thing and feeling guilty and evil and yucky for the rest of the dream. And everyone in my dream told me it was a bad thing. And then I somehow stumbled into the bedroom of my sleeping ex girlfriend and freaked her out and there was a party going on in her living room for her birthday. BUT her heels were too high. It was a STRANGE dream, and even she told me I was evil, not only for smashing this guy's face, but also for coming into her bedroom when she doesn't even talk to me anymore. I'm glad it was all a dream.

If you want to help change the world sign up for the AIDS walk here in Saskatoon on the 20th of September and the link is HERE. Proceeds go to AIDS Saskatoon and The Avenue Community Centre for Sexual and Gender Diversity.

Hide Under the Awkward Stairs

It is my night off, having worked from 7 am to 2:30 pm. I almost saw a movie, but didn't. I went to the fireworks show at the riverbank and was impressed. I also went to the local gay bar, Divas, where I danced a bit and mostly sat in the corner drinking various alcoholic drinks and thinking what it would take to bust up the cute lesbian couple grinding in the corner. Or to join in. Such are the dirty thoughts going through my mind.

I do have some kind of novelty going on with myself, what with being into some pretty hardcore sadomasochistic practices like bloodplay and electroplay. I don't know if I could do bondage though. I'd have to really trust the person. And PLUS the sparkly hood piercing I have in. That has to win me some glamour points on the sexual scale of awesomeness.

It glints and glimmers in the light. It's truly a work of art. And my sex drive HAS gone up, so I think it might be working. AND my Wellbutrin is supposed to pick me up too.

Anyway, these two laydeez were so hot, I would have gone home with both of them, but they looked like they were deflecting other's sexual energy all night. Sometimes when they danced these boys would come and try to dance with them, and then they would lean over and say something in the guys ear and he would dance away looking semi dejected. But if a woman had danced up to them, would something different have happened? Maybe not, but it was enough to keep me curious.

There was ANOTHER cute girl at the bar too, and then ANOTHER after that, so I am feeling a bit better about the prospects in Saskatoon.

I still miss my one BIG love, but it's over and no matter how much I try to fan the ashes, it cannot be revived. I BROKE it!! And it wasn't even that committed in the first place, she was living with her boyfriend after all! I mean, breaking that kind of tenous forbidden bond doesn't really take MUCH, and I broke it big time with all my fucking manic emails. Dammit dammit dammit!

If you could see me, I would also be stomping my foot about this point.

Like a little Rumplestiltzkin kicking my own way into hell.

Such is the drama of a butch with bipolar.

Look out! It's bipolar butch! And she has been celibate TOO LONG!

But it was nice getting out and watching some women far younger than I bump and grind and generally put on a show while being totally into each other. But it did make me miss relationships. I've never had a girlfriend I could bump and grind with, they all had various issues attached to it. One didn't like PDAs, one had a boyfriend and didn't want to make him jealous, one wanted to keep her "options" open. It was all pretty miserable. I just wanted someone I could hump on the dance floor and not have to use a dental dam with. And not have to worry that my toothbrush at her house was being farmed out to other nocturnal visitors of dubious hepatitis status.

Posters of the Missing

My cat is still missing. It will be a week on Tuesday. I really miss him. I keep thinking about him and hoping he didn’t meet an ugly end at the hands of some cruel twisted individual(s).

There is entirely too much evil in the world. I was reading about the highway of tears and how now they think they have a suspect in the murders, although so far they are only looking for one woman’s body, and that one woman is white. For those who don’t know what the highway of tears is, it’s a stretch of highway running from Prince George to Prince Rupert where for the last 40 years primarily aboriginal women have been going missing while hitchhiking.

The suspect is in prison for murdering his brother. The police are digging up the property and looking in a well that smells like diesel and might have been used to burn something. They even have special dogs that can locate remains, and a ground penetrating radar device.

I could never work in forensics or criminology. I think it would be a very bleak feeling dealing with that kind of evil day in and day out. Bleakness is a terrible feeling. That kind of loss of belief in human goodness.

There ARE good people in the world still. I know this. My cat could have adopted himself into another family of nice people. But I still think he would come home because they wouldn’t know him well enough to know he likes Friskies.

A missing cat and a missing woman are not the same things. I know this. There won’t be an investigation into where my cat went, and if someone did do something to him, he or she (but probably he) will most likely get away with it. But then it makes me think about all the unsolved cases of missing and murdered Aboriginal women and how sometimes it seems as if our lives are equal to those of cats. Just more faces peering out of faded posters, dotting the landscape, reminding us that we are not safe or protected.

I wish my cat had been an indoors cat. I feel guilty for letting him go outside this summer at mum’s. And now I’m in limbo, wondering if I will ever see his sweet face again.

Schrodinger!!! :(

My beautiful Schrodinger cat is missing!! He could be alive or dead, we really don't know. In the meantime we are keeping check of the cats at the SPCA and handing out flyers and putting up posters and going up and down alleys calling his name.

I know I always talk about my dog Mister here, but Schrodinger is like the salt to Mr's pepper. He was a best friend of mini dachshunds and played so well with them. He would wrestle and kick and grab them by the head and he could be sweet too, bathing them or just snuggling with them. And he was very intuitive about illnesses, one time I was sick for a week and he stayed right next to me nearly the whole time.

I'm really sad about my missing kitty. He was my first pet when I moved from Vancouver, I got him as a little kitten when he would try to kill me all the time. I just about strangled him! And then he got snugglier over the past couple years and now he is missing!

I feel like a bad mom for letting him go outside at my mum's for the summer. But he really did like the outdoors life. I hope to god he is on an adventure and will come home soon.

Internetted and Recovering

I finally have the internet again. And I am also recovering from one of the worst colds I have had in a while. I was a ball of snot, coughing and coughing and just drenched in mucus and sweat. It was godawful!

I also recently got pierced, again, the same piercing I had when I was nineteen, a hood. I haven't been able to do anything with it besides clean it and wince when I bump it wiping my bum. So I can't really report if it is improving my sex life yet. But it did the last time I had this piercing, so I'm pretty excited. The procedure of getting pierced itself was obviously very painful. Having a large needle and then some jewelery shoved through your privates is never very fun, unless you like that sort of thing. I don't so much but I do like the results.

Some things have changed. I've started taking Wellbutrin in addition to my Celexa, and it seems to be cheering me up at any rate. It's supposed to bring back my sex drive, so far the jury is still out on that, especially since I can't do much with a healing hood piercing. I've also been seeing a counselor for the past few weeks, and that's been helping a bit with some issues I've talked about here.

I shot some more footage for my video and now need to finish writing the narration and record it, and then finish editing, and then write my final report, and I'm DONE! My first half hour video. I must say I am nervous about keeping attention for half an hour. It seems like an unruly time period for a short video artist. Rather, a video artist that makes shorts. Although I'm not super tall either. I really want this done soon because I would like to get my next grant. I'm working hard on it!

Oh man, at least I am finally feeling better. My nose isn't running so much anymore either, which is a relief. I was getting tired of snuffling and blowing it all the time. Thank god for kleenex with lotion!

Either way, I have to go to work today, so I should probably go meet my mom and do some stuff and get to work. I will write more when I have some time.

Praise for the Chubby Girls~!

A close friend whose body image has changed since gaining weight feels bereft of possible companions. I have been trying to explain that sexuality and sexiness is not tied in with weight as much as this friend thinks.
Fat girls are yummy and delicious and I am saddened when I hear big girls feel like they won't be able to have a sex life until they are 20 pounds lighter. Sex can happen at any size!
I am a fat girl. I got teased by my family when it started, because of the meds I have to take. But I grew to love my body, and see it as a beautiful thing. And the great thing is I gained a cup size!
Seriously though, sex is not exclusively the domain of the young and thin. Great sex can happen to anyone!

I just wish it was me having sex. I have been celibate for half a decade, to be completely honest, and it makes me feel inadequate. And not having as much experience makes me feel embarrassed, at this advanced age. I've had a number of partners, but not much experience in long term relationships.

I like big butts and I cannot lie!

Been a long time since I got flogged too, I really should do something about this stalemate.

Before the Sun runs away again

I have a good feeling about the lottery numbers I picked. I think I will win something with them eventually.

I am currently looking after my mothers house and all it's many occupants. I just had to feed them.

I'd like to be a little less stupid sometimes. I feel like I keep making mistakes with my life. All kinds of mistakes. I guess that is what it means to be human.

Ew, there is dog slime all over this table from Arthur!!

I want to get married dammit, and I think I want kids. I have been hemming and hawing about it for years, always kinda like Mmmmmnnnnno. No. But then the last year its been a maybe. And I think I am getting close to the day I can say Yes.

As to how I will end up with kids, well, it is a little more complicated because I am a lesbian, and don't have a nearby supply of semen like a boyfriend or husband, just the sperm bank and possible donors I know. And then I have bipolar, which makes it even more complicated. I would have to get off my meds to have a baby, and boy oh boy was that bad the last time I went off them. And I'd rather not be recovering from a manic episode AND look after a newborn, just because I would be so tired!

So the next option would be for my partner to have a kid. The trouble is I DON'T have a partner. I'd rather raise children with a partner, even though I was raised by a single parent and know it can be done. I just don't want to be like Angelina Jolie and have a bazillion children! I think two would be the max I could do.

I think it would be about five years from now, when I'm a bit more ready. A kid! OMG! I am seeing all these little babies sprout up from my friends loins and it's a bit intense! Everytime I turn around it seems like someone else I know is pregnant.

The weather is really nice these days, we had some rain earlier today, but the sky is clearing up.

Well, I was going to write more, but I got distracted by things, and now I have to go out into the wild city to forage for some grub!

My grandparents used to have a grub box. I thought it had something to do with grubs, ew!

Beautiful Mess

There are things I need to change in my life in order to move on and become a better person. I've let things bother me to the point of wanting to die just to avoid my circumstances, and that's never good. I need some help, it's rough.

I think dying just to get out of this rut is a dumb idea, just for the record. I know it's dumb but in the past whenever major problems loomed, suicidal thinking was always there to entice me in it's cruel grip.

But it's a cruel thing to do to myself, and especially to the people around me.

I'm tired of being so depressed. And I'm tired of being down on myself. I really have to just get off my ass and start becoming the person I want to be. It's hard to do that! Why is change so hard? I would like this to be instant, but I know it's not to be yet.

The hardest part about having these addictions, pot and tobacco, is that it's everywhere and so easy to get and I am ambivalent about quitting altogether. I'm not so ambivalent about tobacco, I know I need to quit that, but the pot, just the idea of saying No More is so scary! I've come to depend on it to relax, and I need better coping skills for life.

I am a mess, it is true, but I am a beautiful mess.

Heart Aches

Having a mood disorder makes me doubt my perceptions at times. Especially if I am in a mania. Those are no fun. Actually they are fun, but the ramifications of that much fun is quite staggering.
I knew one woman who tried to buy ten cars while she was manic because she thought she had an intense amount of money from the mania money fairies.
And that's the thing about mania, is that there's all the witnesses and evidence afterwards! And losing important friendships, and self respect, that's always hard. I hate losing control and writing whatever is coming out of my deep dark subconscious. Linking up all kinds of things in new ways that don't really make sense. Coming to conclusions that are totally wrong. Inventing stories to try and find out why things are happening and getting lost in them.
My guilt over my actions during mania has kept me in a mini self destructive loop, and the most upsetting thing is knowing I can't make things right, at least not between myself and the person I hurt. I feel badly about this, like she's a casualty of my insanity. Not like I was sitting next to her on a bus and stabbed and ate her. But still, bad. Just bad.
Shitastic!
I shouldn't be beating myself up as much as I have been though. I am going to try and move beyond it!
On a totally different note, I've been reading all this Gossip that Michael Jackson had boyfriends. I feel badly that he felt he had to stay in the closet his entire life, not able to share who he loved. That is a sad way to live your life!

Detoxing from marijuana

I'm currently housesitting with my mother's menagerie and mine. There are three dogs in the house right now and two cats milling about. It's pretty crazy here yo.
I don't know if you have noticed, but I have merged posts from Bipolar and Disorderly into Fit of Pique. It now looks a bit more sensible, with the old posts from when I was crazy nicely merged with my recovery posts.
I miss my mom already! She's left me to go up north and fish, I wish I could fish! I like fishing. Fishing makes for entertainment and good dinners sometimes. We used to catch SO many fish! Mostly Pike. And the occasional pickerel.
Until the go barbless campaign came along. We debarbed all our tackle and from then on barely caught any fish. Pretty sad.
I'm in the process of change this year more than any other year, and it's been really HARD on me! Personal change is so difficult to achieve. I know I will grow more if I abandon the ways of doing things that have hindered me. But it's so scary to leave behind my crutches. I realize I have become dependent on certain things and that makes me upset. I never wanted to be dependent on anything. And it's not good for my health.
I am especially realizing that I need to be better to myself to deal with my bipolar disorder. I am better about getting the right amount of sleep, I go to bed earlier and I don't miss medication often. But there are other things I should be doing, like not drinking because it makes me depressed, and quitting the marijuana for a while, for long enough to see what difference it makes anyway. I really have questions about my potential without it, and I think those questions need to be answered.
And smoking, I really need to quit it. I started up AGAIN! Fucking hell, but then I am depressed and it is hard to quit while one is depressed. I hate depression.
I have an appointment to see my old counsellor next week, right now my psych nurse is checking in every week except she's on holidays, so it's back to the old counsellor.
I liked the old counsellor.
I'm worried I would make a bad girlfriend for someone at the moment just because I do need to learn how to live my life differently than I've been doing it. I have to admit some suicidal feelings were around a couple weeks ago, but I think the idea of living life DIFFERENTLY is preferable instead of crumpling it up like a scrap of paper and throwing it in the garbage. I can change, somehow. Starting with today. I can get to work and figure out why I've been allowing myself to fall so far short of my own expectations.
Anyway, I'm off to read some motivational online literature. I am thinking of going to an NA meeting this weekend. I might really need it. I smoked my last bit of pot and am going to detox and try life without it starting with one sober week.

Mad Pride

It is not Mad Pride here yet, I actually might have missed it, but the day, July 14, hasn't crept up on me quite yet.
It is hard to have Pride sometimes, especially in relation to being bipolar. It's a very unusual illness to have. The first thought after a manic psychosis episode for me is always "Oh my God none of it was REAL!"
The second, more depressing thought is "But some of it was, OMG! What did I do?"
And a third, more eerie thought is "But how will I remember what was real and what wasn't?"
For the most part I have it figured out.
Except for two things I heard. I'm pretty sure one was a hallucination. But the other one, I will never know.
I was walking home from the bar wearing a top hat and tails and as I walked through a residential area I heard a woman scream and then a gunshot, and then silence. I have no idea if it was real. I didn't stick around to find out, I just kept walking, and I think part of me knew I was crazy and not to pay attention. But it was weird, and I am still haunted by it. Was it real?

The other thing that happened is I was listening to a song on the radio, which had just come out, and this voice said "The story goes that in the end you'll be normal." I was just recovering from my episode and still thought "Fuck, was that real?" I've listened to the song many times since and never heard those words uttered, so it probably WAS a hallucination.

And then there were so many things that I wrote while I was going under, and I did this the first time too. It's pretty weird. Still I erased a lot of it, and some remains here. Like all of April. I forget the day I went in to the hospital, but I think it was around April 20th or so. And my birthday was shortly therafter, pretty glum birthday. I got a cake and some presents, and cards, and some of the patients scrounged change to get me a strawberry sundae from DQ. We got to get passes to walk to DQ or the store (usually for cigarettes). And even though we were supposed to stay by the ashtray, a lot of us went on walks down the meewasin valley trail. It was pretty weird. One time my friend was depressed and outside having a smoke on the trail when some uber tanned fit white women came running by and one said loudly "And that's where the FREAKS sit!"

I can't help much about my brain, well, actually that's not true. There's my cocktail of mind altering drugs I take, which are prescribed thank you very much. I have heard of people abusing some of the meds I am on. Which seems ridiculous to me because they are just psych drugs. Like the risperdone, who would take that if they didn't have to? It's a freakin antipsychotic!

I am not proud of all the things I do or say while I'm in such an altered frame of mind as a psychotic episode. But I am proud that I can stand in the company of other people dealing with similar issues who still find ways to thrive and build community and make glorious works of art and other contributions to society. And I am proud when I look at a friend with similar issues to me, and be able to say "Don't you hate it when . . . " And they can say "I know exactly what you mean."

Today I quit smoking, again,

and it's been 9 hours of no smoking. I have been wearing step one of the patch and just waiting out the few cravings I've had. Mostly I have them whenever I start doing something that I have usually smoked while doing. Like writing. Or walking. Or waiting for the bus. stuff like that.

I updated all my quit meters and dates and times. I have no more cigarettes in the house.

Zzzzzzz

I'm sleepy. I don't have much of anything to say today. I slept all afternoon and then did some family things for a couple hours. I'm home now, about to go to bed. It's been a long day, even though I slept in the middle of it.
It was hot here today too!
The depression's going away, I can feel myself getting better everyday now.
Damn, I really have to go to bed. I hope to have a good day tomorrow, no work til later in the day! Yippee skippee!!

Update on my Guts

Well, as it happens I do have gallstones. I have to switch to a low fat diet (NOOOOO!) and wait and see if I have more problems. IF I do have more problems then it's surgery for me.

But that wasn't all, I also got a pelvic ultrasound and it turns out I have fibroids in my uterus which accounts for the heavy bleeding every period, and will get worse as they grow. NOT ONLY THAT! But I also have a cyst on my left ovary. I have another pelvic ultrasound scheduled for August, they expect it will go away because it is a simple cyst.

Anyway, oh joy! The funny thing is what freaked me out about the fibroids was worrying about not being able to be pregnant, which is so BIZARRE! I can get pregnant and have a normal kid even with fibroids in there, not that it will happen. But the idea that maybe I couldn't, that scared me. It's fine though. But funny that I panicked about it.


So there ends the medical mysteries of me. THANK GOD FOR Ultrasounds.

Anyway, it's almost time for bed but I wanted to update yall.

I am slowly recovering from the depression. It's feeling a lot better.

Phases?

Strange that I left this blog as being written by Thirza instead of Sarain, which is the name I went by for a while during my crazy time when I was still struggling with deciding to be a boy. I decided in the end to be a boy in a girl body, which is fine by me since I like getting fucked in the vagina and having boobs. I am a boy, but a bottom all the same. One more hole is more appealing to me than having a dick.
Still, I do feel I have masculine traits, and I'm trying to honour that more with some more gender bending. I was wearing a packer, like I mentioned before, and I would go out of the house dressed like a boy.
Which isn't much different than how I normally dress.
But things have changed. I didn't like how being a boy made me, especially in regards to how I behaved towards the woman in my life. I didn't like the idea of my female gender disappearing altogether either!
And I didn't like the idea of my boobs vanishing. I do like my boobs. I like being large chested. And I like how sensitive my nipples are, and I hear top surgery really deadens that sensation because they basically chop your nips off, trim them down, and sew them back on! Eeep!
And testosterone is irreversable. I can basically sum up my apprehension by saying I am not transsexual and am simply transgendered.
Which still puts me in a situation where I could be in danger. Masculine women are still targets of transphobia and homophobia. And I am all tattooed, I don't know if that makes me look like more of a hard case or what. I wish it did, then people would leave me alone.
I haven't been hassled since I was a teenager. I was a pretty radical dyke teen. I tried to start Aden Bowman's first queer group, but even with chips we didn't have a very big meeting.
I admire anyone who has the guts to be who they are in whatever way makes them feel comfortable, including getting transsexual related surgeries and hormone treatments. But Sarain is an old name and not mine really. I'm a Thirza, through and through. This is what makes me feel like myself.
I sometimes wonder if I will change my mind again down the line, but somehow I doubt it. My struggling with being transgender is somewhat laid to rest by living like a boy for six months or whatever it was. Now I'm simply a transgender lesbian.
My cousin who came out when she was 11 went back to being straight after six years, she said it was just a phase! I think six years is a long time for a phase. But what do I know? I went through a male phase.

A weekend of waiting . . .

I got in touch with the doctor's office. Currently I have no doctor, so I'm kind of floating around to different available doctors. They wouldn't tell me anything on the phone, I have to go in to talk about my results. My mom says they wait for you to have a major attack, where you're like, barfing and peeing at the same time and feel like you're going to die! And THEN they finally do surgery on you. Oh man! I hate pain. I mean, especially thinking you are going to die. I HAVE thought I was going to die a few times when I was getting panic attacks in college.

But all this fuss, and just knowing it is coming, and having to change my diet, oh man. I'm really NERVOUS about that. And then surgery itself, that scares me. But at the same time I imagine my poor ducts and something getting stuck in there, aaaah!

And I have to get a Partial Nail Avulsion on this ingrown toenail, which is a pretty gross sounding procedure. But someone I know had it and it's not that bad. I just don't know if Indian Affairs can pay for it.

I also have to go get my prescription changed, but that won't cost me any money. In fact, if I had Air Miles I could save up for Berlin!

Ein biere bitte!

I'm getting tired of castigating myself for things all the time. I have to get my head together. It's just that these changes I wanted to make haven't happened yet. I wrote all about them on Bipolar and Disorderly. Now I'm depressed and smoking again. I'm taking a break from drugs and alcohol for a while. Although summer always feels like a party time. But realistically if I want to keep on top of this crazy incurable bipolar disorder, I have to stay away from doing that stuff. Even just having a few beers is bad because it's a depressant, and lord knows I don't need more of that in my life.

And now I might have to get SURGERY! I hope none of the drugs they gives me interferes with my bipolar disorder medication. Like my risperdone will wake me up on the operating table. Ickky!

And what about this crushing depression? It's so fucking gross and makes me think bad things. I know it's going away, it feels like it's going away. But it's still a while before regular life is breathed back into me. At least a week longer.

Summer of Health Problems! Craptastic!

The entry in which Thirza's phone gets cut off

I have yet to hear the results of my ultrasound. I am expecting the worst. I was reading how gallstones form and it sounds an awful lot like my lifestyle. And I have talked to friends my age who have already HAD gallbladders removed.
Apparently you fart a lot while you recover. How embarrassing! I hope I am not recovering with some snotty stuck up person who will scold me for farting so much.
I'm recovering from some depression. It started because I was lowering my dose of antidepressant and my mood got destabilized. Which sucks because I was doing so well. But HOPEFULLY it will be going away soon, I already upped my antidep before the psychiatrist said it was okay. So I have another week or so before I will know for sure if this gets me back to normal.
Depression sucks. It makes everything seem so bleak.
Bleak!
I haven't been cleaning much either and that depresses me. It's terrible to come home to a messy house.
My phone line has been temporarily suspended! Fock! i don't know how much longer I will have the internet for!
I'm in trouble! Poopy! I need to learn to stay on top of bills.
My television got cut off a while ago too, I knew this was coming. Oh well.
Better luck next time.
I have made some videos since my blog was in limbo. I made a video called You Are A Lesbian Vampire. It is pretty funny and got a good review in NOW. It has screened in Toronto twice, Calgary once, and Vancouver this summer. I am hoping for more!
I got to go to the screening in Toronto, the premiere! That is when it got the good review.
I need to work on my videos more. What I also need to do is clean. My mum is picking me up this afternoon for some errands. I could do some work before then, especially since now I don't know when she is coming and can't call her!
Well I got shit to do and no way of hearing from the doctor about my ultrasound. They will have to call me at my mum's.

Awry

I am still recovering from Pride! I stayed up until 3:30 am last night, I am so tired!
I can't party like that again for a while. I am going to have to take a break, maybe just do some fun summer activities like go to the beach or sit in the park by the river. Eat ice cream.
I need to expand my repetoire of fun things to do without getting crunk. I feel like I'm just a one note girl.
I'm getting tired. I was going to write something glorious that came out of my bum, but I've realized I can't do it. And I have to get up early and go to the doctor's to get my ingrown toenail cut. Apparently the only bad thing is when the needle goes in. I hate needles and yet am intrigued by them. Not in a heroin way, or in a medical way, more in a play situation. But I am not looking forward to this visit at all, I am terrified.
This is not the only medical visit I have to take this week. I have to go to my psychiatrist's, and get an ultrasound looking for gallstones!
It's pretty crappy. I'm 31 and feeling it! My body is now a mess of different things going awry.
I'm wanting some romance this summer. Someone who doesn't mind that my body is going to hell and I might need to get surgery. My first surgery! Oh woe is me.
I also have work tomorrow, and I worked a full shift on Saturday right between the parade and the dance. I'm so tired now. Dammit, I was going to write something better. Oh well, I will be home tomorrow afternoon to show off my toe!

Bad Habits, And I Don't Mean Naughty Nuns

I recently, like, this morning, bought a pack of cigarettes. I have started smoking again, and I'm going to quit again. But I feel dumb, I hate my addictions and bad habits. They are starting to catch up with me and cause problems in my life. Smoking itself is one big problem, namely the health concerns, and then the no girlfriend concerns. But here I am, poisoning myself again just because I can't handle the OTHER issue, which is cutting back or cutting out my pot use. I've been trying to cut back since January, and it's difficult. I've achieved some long stretches of no use, but still go back to pothead tendencies.
I have some other bad habits, like getting a messy apartment and not cleaning until I could call those How Clean Is Your House ladies to come over and scold me while showing me how to use biological powder to clean nearly everything.
I'm a mess still. Not emotionally, but I have some bad crutches I have grown used to over the years. Maybe I am a mess emotionally and am covering it up with some bad habits.
Either way, at the beginning of this year I was going to try and make some major changes, and I am still working on them. It's a long slow process, and not the instant prestochango I was hoping for. I was hoping I would just magically be a better person by January 2nd, smoke free, drug free, exercising and cleaning. And it didn't happen! I think the process of change is very slow.
I remember when I was a kid the beginning of the school year at a new school always felt like an opportunity to be a new person, smarter, cooler, hipper. So cool nobody would think I was cool. Instead the same old shy person trotted out.
I wonder if personality is genetic.
My father also has one of my aforementioned bad habits, and I won't mention which one, but I remember it from when I was a baby and I always associated it with nice feelings of being a baby. And now I do it! A lot! Is it genetics, or is it just me?
I wish I was talking about Naughty Nuns instead of Bad Habits.
Which reminds me, my Nun Satan porn got legs and walked out of my mum's basement and vanished. I suspect a rogue cousin stole it. But I can't prove anything, besides what other perv would take my smuggled porn?? I had to go to GERMANY to get that comic!
This means I have to go back to Berlin and find that comic.
Or look on Ebay, but I would prefer it NEW! Secondhand porn is gross, and I'm still shocked anyone would want MY secondhand porn.
I do not consider porn a bad habit. I really don't have much porn. I don't rush out and buy every new issue of Club or anything.
I'm depressed, and I think it's about my bad habits. I feel again like I would be a bad girlfriend, just based on my bad habits. Dammit! And I don't want to twelve step or even two step, I just want to knock it off. Stop acting like a bad teenager. Or twenty something. Or whatever I'm not supposed to be anymore that I'm 31.
Yes, I am 31 now. I actually was in the hospital on my 29th birthday. The hospital, where I painted all the blocks. I still have them, some of them are very pretty.
I have an appointment with my psychiatrist next week, so maybe I can talk about some of this stuff.
I don't know how much of it relates to my mental illness. I know a lot of crazy people who are messy and smokers of tobacco and pot, who barely exercise and stuff. But is it just bad habits or indicative of something more?
They say substance use is high with persons with mental illness, and then they try to say it causes mental illness, but I think we just like the altered state, especially if the present state is not agreeable.
But I can be feeling fine and still want to get blotto.
I just want to feel like a grown up. Someone who takes care of themselves and doesn't waste money by smoking it. At least I still have the desire to change.
In other news, a friend I thought I had lost for good during my manic episode has agreed we can send emails. Which is really nice because she writes great emails, and because I have missed her everyday since I went crazy.

Life With Mister

I didn't know what else to write about, besides maybe talk about my dog, Mister.
He's laying beside me right now chewing on a rawhide bone. Earlier in the day he decided he wanted love right in the middle of my Tarot reading. And when I woke up this morning, he was patiently waiting by the bed. Whenever I come into the apartment, he does his crazy kissy dance routine all over me. He's pretty sweet.
He is a wiener dog, and he was supposed to be my psychiatric service dog. Life had other plans. I did come into contact with a woman who taught psychiatric service dogs, but while he's good with depression, he is NOT good with mania. I was just moving around too much, and he's a little guy so he got freaked out and spent time under the couch. He slept with my mom instead of me, and I barely slept.
But we're fine again now. But no, he cannot be a service dog. On the other hand, he is a good companion and therapy animal. He likes being held and he's very engaging, he keeps me from being stuck in my own head.
He is marching in the parade with me this year. Although I am worried about him getting stepped on. But he's done it two years in a row. I keep talking with my mum about organizing a wiener walk, but so far it has never happened. Mum just got a dachshund herself, a smooth coated black and tan girl named Hermione. She's super cute. This is her birthday month. When mum first got her it was so cold and we cut up one of my wool socks and made a sweater for her. She was THAT tiny.
Even though the psych service dog thing didn't pan out, I still am pretty happy with Mister. He makes me smile. Whenever he's away from the apartment it feels lonely. I like living with animals.
Here is a wiener dog from the Ministry of Funny Walks!

Pride week in Saskatoon

I haven't gone to any Pride events yet. I figure I will blow my wad at the parade and the dance. I haven't got anyone to go to the Dance with me yet, like a friend I mean. I will probably go with my cousin.
I went out to Diefenbaker Park last night with an old friend, where we drank hot chocolate and talked about old relationships and future relationships. Damn she has some intrigue in her life. I feel like I am not getting out there enough. I should advertise myself!
Never mind that, I've had several personal ads running here and there, and have only ever gotten a handful of responses that seemed remotely interesting in all those years of doing online ads. And I hate writing the about me sections. I always feel like I should mention the bipolar thing, but I don't. Not that I wouldn't, I'm pretty open about it.
It just seems like bipolar almost automatically adds a layer of drama to relationships. You know what I would like to read? A book about how to have a relationship written for people with bipolar. I don't know if it would help. I used to spend my evenings sitting in the self help section of Chapters reading all their books. They didn't care, and I did buy books enough for them to leave me alone. I just didn't want to pay for self help books. I learned all about "I" statements there. Come to think of it, I think an ex read those same self help books because she used all that lingo.
I also used to read all their paranormal stuff.
I had a couple years there where paranormal stuff kept happening to me. That was weird.
It will happen again, I am sure.
I wonder when the world will acknowledge that we've been getting visited by aliens!? At Cranberry Flats?!?
I realize this entry is not much about Pride. I like Pride, it's one of my favorite times of the year, mainly because there are so many hot cuties that come out of the woodwork. I've never had a girlfriend in the same city as me during Pride. Kinda sucks. and I've never gotten laid during Pride either. And yet every year there's that feeling, maybe this will be the year me + some girl will collide during pride = sex. Even though the track record is going against me, I still clean up and try to be sexually presentable Just In Case.
Who knows, maybe this year if I recondition all my leather I will win a sweetie! I'll put it on Facebook, just to make sure everyone knows I'm all ready for someone.
Well Mum will be here any minute to take me to see my dog, who's just gotten shaved! Little Mister! He's living with me now and it sure is good having a pet.

A long recovery to today

Well as you can see I am writing sensibly again, which isn't as much fun as the 200 hypergraphia entries, but oh well. I still find some of the things I thought about when crazy somewhat seductive, but there isn't much I can do with seductive thoughts besides make art.
My most recent work of art is a video I am currently editing which I got a grant to make about my family's home lands. Do not ask me how it is going, I don't want to say. And don't ask me what position I am taking because I don't really know much besides I have three hours of footage and need to condense it into a short snappy half hour of family history. Right now it's 45 minutes long, too LONG! Fifteen minutes I don't need.
I have been single for the last two years as well, no intriguing ladies milling about in my life. Well, that's kind of a slam against all the women I know, let's just say no romantic intrigue. When I think about it seriously I don't think I was ready to have a relationship, I needed to do a lot of healing about a lot of different things and I think I would have relied too much on a woman to keep me together. As it is now I am pretty together. I've been dutifully taking my medication (but forgetting the morning meds now and again) and I have even been working besides the year I got to just be a famous artist. Well, I was working then too, but not at a job. It seems that every so often I get the opportunity to be a full time artist, and then work can go stuff itself. I like working for myself.
The screenplay is finished, although I am open to rewrites if I find a producer who thinks that would be a good idea. I've realized that I am not the self producing type, at least, not with features. Too much work and I need to concentrate on the creative stuff.
I currently have an interesting part time job I like, which is good. I've been working for the telephone company and I like it much better than call centres, although in a way it is a glorified call centre. But inbound, no more calling people at home and bothering them.
Call centres have been my bread and butter for most of my twenties.
Now I am in my early thirties. It's nice so far, I feel more confident about myself and I don't feel self conscious about dorky things having to do with me, like listening to Roxette, which I used to be closeted about, and also thinking Louis Riel was the messiah. Well that's not really dorky, just kind of interesting. He did say he was the prophet of the new world. He was also highly manic depressive, and I'm surprised no one ever thought to point out that the government executed a mentally ill person.
I don't mind being called mentally ill, although I notice none of the professionals working with me use that term. It's always Bipolar diSordeR, which isn't as much fun to say as Manic Depression.
I currently have a very good female psychiatrist who has gone above and beyond what psychiatric care I have recieved in the past. She's sent me to light therapy groups, she's told me to try vitamin d and omega 3s, she sent me to a dietitian, and she even reduced my meds this year when I told her the Seroquel was making me too sleepy to get up in time for work and the antidepressant was killing my sex drive. I did gain some weight, I'd gone down fifty pounds with all the walking I did while I was manic, but I have gained that ALL back plus about ten pounds. The manic exercise and diet routine does not have long term benefits.
I also have a good psych nurse at the community clinic. And my gp, who is on maternity leave now, visited me in the hospital several times to check on how I was doing.

So I have much better psych care than before, no diss to my gp but a psychiatrist has specialised training in matters of the brain and the chemicals that get it to work properly.
It's funny having one such TERRIBLE experience with psychiatry, like being restrained and shot in the ass with Thorazine in Montreal for trying to make a phone call during nap time, compared to when I ran away from Hantelman and when I came back they just asked me to pee in a cup. They didn't even scold me!
It's funny that I've had some of the bleakest depressions but what makes me end up in the hospital is always the manias. Some of my depressions probably could have done better with psych care in a ward, but I never went. Thought I could be stronger.
The summer I was in the home my friend Jasmine Turner killed herself. She had scars on her arms from when she'd tried the first time as a teenager. And then she just did it one day. I guess there was a note, but I didn't read it or hear what it said. I felt bad, like if only I had done something differently she would still be alive. It was a sad funeral, her son was just this little boy and he was still helping fill in her grave. Now he's in foster care, so sad. So are her other children.
I don't know if I was suicidal when I got out of the hospital, I sure was depressed though, as anyone would be when their seratonin's been used up. It felt bleak, like there would never be a time when I'd just be living independently again working on art and making a mess. But it happened. I used to visualize myself standing just below the summit of a mountain, unable to see beyond the mountain but knowing there was some great vista on the other side.
I got a dragon tattooed on my arm, for a few reasons. It's on my right arm, the Manic side, and is on one hand a reminder that mania can be destructive, and on the other hand is a memorial to my cousin Christopher. He had an obsession with corn snakes so it is made to look like a corn snake.
I am getting another tattoo this fall (I try not to get tattooed in the summers because that's swimming time and you can't swim for a month with a healing tattoo) of Cherry Blossoms on my left arm, the depression side, because when I would get suicidal in Vancouver I would promise not to do anything until the cherry blossoms came out in spring, and by then I was usually okay. When I think about it, god, it must have been the winters! I would always get depressed from the grey sleet, and here in Saskatoon, winters, while chilly, are still sunny.
I've been trying to improve myself this year. So far I've only managed ONE goal, to stop smoking. I really want to exercise and walk my dog more. But I'm not very motivated, I have to admit.
And now for Some Penguins! I taped these Gentoos and King Penguins in Scotland while I was there. I also got footage of a Rhino giving another Rhino a blow job (REALLY!) but Youtube took that video down because it was rude.

Fit Of Pique running again!

After two years of being locked out of my old blog, I have finally cracked my password and am currently writing in it. I have written three entries. I am pretty happy! I also got to read old emails, including the first email I wrote after my cousin Christopher died.
If only I could fuse both email and blog accounts and have one blog and one email! Oh well.
My arm is itchy. I have gone down to Step 2 of the patch and haven't noticed a big difference yet. I still have cravings to smoke SOMETHING, so I've been smoking some tobacco alternatives. No tobacco though. It's been 23 days? 22 days? A long time anyway. I have no desire to start again, just this need to smoke something or another.
I went to a BDSM munch last night and had a good time, met a lot of new people and talked kinky stuff. It was fun, and I am going to go back for the mid month coffee I think.
I'm so messy! I think I am going to clean today. I know, I always say I am going to clean and then nothing happens. But I really DO want to clean today and I'm not working so far. Plus I am getting a new couch tomorrow, well, an old couch from my grandparents, but it's new to me!
Well, I am going to go write in Fit Of Pique now, about I don't know what.

The Home

Living in a psych home is the ultimate in tedium and I have to admit, I generally just spent time at my mother's instead of trying to hang out there. I was living almost the whole time with women far far older than me, waiting for nursing homes at that point really, except for one other younger woman who moved in soon after me.
There just wasn't much to do. we had television. Most of the residents stayed there and didn't go out into the city. That was very depressing. And like I said, the rooms were shared so no rumpy pumpy even on your own. And I missed my dog especially, I went to Mum's all the time to see him. I also stored my pot at my mum's since I was in a sober living facility. There are only a couple homes in town that don't care if you do alcohol and some other drugs. And they aren't the kinds of homes you want to live in.
My roommate for most of the time was schizophrenic and we think had dementia. She was always talking about Indians or Cows in the backyard, and couldn't wipe her bum properly. We shared a bathroom so I knew the truth!
Shit all over the towels.
At the time I was still thinking about transitioning, and it was weird being male identified and spending time in an all female group home. On the other hand, it would have been weirder to be with guys. Which made me realize how difficult it is to be trans and crazy. I made a packer that I wore outside of the house sometimes and it made me feel better.
Shit, this typing is driving me nuts and I don't have much else to say about the home. Maybe tomorrow I will just skip ahead to today.

The Hospital

I'm guessing you will want to know what the Hospital was like for my last psych trip. Especially considering I wrote so much bad stuff about my first hospital experience as a nutter.
Well, it was okay! It was a nice big ward with an outdoor courtyard and you could go down to the river for a smoke. I started smoking again mostly to get out of the ward, and it was hard to quit again! I have quit now for three weeks.
There were a lot of movies to watch and groups to participate in. I don't know if I learned anything in group, besides to keep specifics of my looneytuneness confidential, but you all know I'm not good at that. We went on walks every so often around the university grounds, which was nice because you could see all the bunnies. There were a LOT of bunnies that summer, and a fellow bipolar even got me to come outside to look at a baby bunny that was in the courtyard, it was so cute! Every time I went outside the ward it seemed like there was another brown bunny munching on dandelions.
I was there for six weeks, I came home and was still emailing all the time and got sent back, not quite sane yet. I made some friends in there, one I still talk to on facebook and a few I've seen elsewhere. Some dude spit on me and my book in the ward and then disappeared, I think he assaulted another patient and got sent to a higher security ward. It was pretty weird getting used to the relative safety of the ward, have an issue and just take it up at the nurses station. But then I was released and scared of everything, scared of the randomness of people, especially after my cousin Steven got assaulted in his own home by some gang thugs.
But there were no restraints in the psych ward, no shouting orderlies, no one telling me I was wasting hospital supplies. I even ran away twice, went back with no big fuss.
The one things I didn't like was how I felt railroaded into going into a psych home after. I didn't want to go, and it was hard. I didn't have a room of my own for nearly six months, couldn't even masturbate I was so stressed. I was sad and in shock, especially because of weird things I had said, most of which are chronicalled in this blog. And I missed my best friend, who didn't seem to want to talk to me.
Although I found an email she sent to me after I lost my password, just checking in. And I missed it! Oh, so sad.
But in conclusion, the hospital was not so bad. The first one I was in my cousin showed up to and told me she'd been in five star hospitals and that the one we were in was a one star hospital. So I guess I was lucky enough to be in a four star hospital.
They're building a bigger version of it now, and I hear people get to have their own rooms. I sure hope so because not being able to get off is a major problem. Everyone, even mental patients, should be afforded enough privacy to masturbate.

How many years has it been? Far too long. I lost my email and blogger password in a fit of pique during the manic episode that ended this unusual blog, at least, it SEEMED to. And I did start another blog called Bipolar and Disorderly, which I have kept up dutifully, all the while mourning the loss of my beautiful Fit of Pique blog, which had followed me all those years.
Well Bipolar and Disorderly is about two years old now, when I finally sat down and decided to try and crack my damn security question. It was Who was your first teacher? And I couldn't remember until I finally did tonight.
This also means I finally have access to all my unusual emails to my then quasi girlfriend, who will remain unnamed, except as you can imagine in all the hulaballoo she disassociated herself from me.
I don't really blame her, and I am not looking forward to reading all the weird shit I wrote to her, so maybe I won't.
I haven't decided what to do with Fit Of Pique yet. As in, should I do the post manic pruning that I normally do with a blog after I've gone crazy? Since it's mostly the month of march and april that were crazy, I'll let it stay. Maybe. I don't know.
What I do know is that two years later I still have boobs and am planning to keep them. I do like being a boy, but I like being a girl too. I like being both, and for now playing with that is better for me with a butch female body.

Coming back here is almost like ressurrecting a carcass I thought was lost to the winds of mania. Mania can be such a destructive force. It destroyed one really good friendship and a whole lot of dignity. And it destroyed my memory. I was changing passwords during a bout of paranoia and that's how I lost access to my email. And I was being all sly and clever and then couldn't remember my settings. dammit!
That sums up the manic episode.
What I did for my banner relaxing summer apres les hopital was sit around watching American Movie Channel in a group home with some older women, as in seniors, and smoking kistemaw and listening to country. Ugh!
I went on a couple adventures that summer, like missing the last bus before curfew and having to call mum to drive me home from the racetrack, where I had gone to have just one beer and feel freedom. How depressing.
In fact it was a beautiful summer, but mostly depressing. I went to Banff and I was still over medicated and it was okay but not great.
Life after that got better, I moved into my own place, eventually moved into a place with my dog and cat, had a big grant, went to Scotland, America, a film festival here and there, worked in call centres again, and now I'm here, where I am, writing in a blog I thought I'd never get to write in again.
It's kind of an emotional moment. I've MISSED this blog, and have wanted to come back and write about what it's like to recover from my second manic episode.
I haven't had an episode since, not even a depression after the sad summer was over. I've been good. Messy, but good.

An artist working

I have approximately 3 hours and 15 minutes to work on my art practice, before work. Then I come home and work on it some more. I am trying to be more demanding and strict with myself, especially since I can hand in a rough cut to this festival in Toronto. Can I make it? I dunno.
It especially sucks because the festival in Toronto is SO GOOD and I want to premiere my little flick there. But I dunno if what I have is anywhere near good enough to get it into a festival as is. I don't even have my narration on it.
I have a very unhappy kitten on my hands. Schrodinger has been wandering around crying where ever he goes, I am sending him to my mom's to enjoy the outdoors, the big baby. I can't tell if he wants food or to go out, or both. Who knows?
Pride is coming up here, which is exciting! There's all kinds of events going on for the whole week, and if I get out and go to some I just might meet a cutie!
I'm still not smoking, in case you were wondering, but it's getting hard to keep my resolve again. It just seems so easy to have One smoke, the mythical one smoke before going back to your quit. But as they say, cigarettes travel in packs! I'm finally not letting people smoke cigarettes in my apartment and that helps a lot, plus the apartment smells nicer. I'm all abut things smelling good now.
I'm also working on this Mars Screenplay, which is only a short video at the moment but if I like it and get more ideas I may make a feature out of it. What am I going to do with my video? Should I send a rough cut with no narration? It seems INSANE! The narration is what makes the video! dammit!

I do love being a video artist. My ex Velveeta, who works primarily with Super 8 (besides her Elvis performances) says video is ugly. Aw, don't mock the video! Without it, how would teenage homos make their points? I think I might shoot my first feature on video. Hmm, it's a lot cheaper than film that's for sure, and it doesn't take as much lighting.
Well, how do your force yourself to write? Write write write. Bleh! I should format my narration so far and find out for sure how many minutes I have.

A ramble through the life of a non smoker who has bipolar disorder

Today marks the two week anniversary of quitting smoking. I am proud of myself! I think this is going to be the one. I have no desire to start up again either because I have gained valuable insight into what life is like to NOT smoke. The way my house smells nicer and all that. And then there is the expense. I saved $68.25. Well, not LITERALLY, I don't have $68.25, but if I'd kept buying smokes that's what I would have spent these last two weeks. Also according to my quit gadget, I have saved 1 day and 13 hours of my life by quitting.
Hey, my friend and cousin Deanna told me she read somewhere that there IS sex on the other side, but it's 100 times better and way longer than sex on this side of whatever thing you cross when you die. And they consider it souls merging to become one on that side.
Which is kinda what I think it is on THIS side too.
I'm listening to Peaches new album I Feel Cream. It's pretty good!
Fuck ya like a billionaire!
I'm doing pretty good. I was worried I would get depressed with my antidepressant going down, but I haven't! And my sex drive is back even though I am still on my antidepressant. So THAT's all good. I'm happy with that.
I have to do some writing for my video. I think I will do that today, it's nearly 1pm and I haven't been called in to work yet. It's kinda nice just hanging out. But the whole point of being on call and working part time was so that I could work on my art practice more.
Which I'm NOT doing, I am so dicking around. I don't know why, maybe I am waiting for inspiration to hit? That always happens to me. But I need to look over my footage again and really focus on it and turn it into something profoundly beautiful.
That's hard to do when I am always on Facebook.
Today for the first time this summer I put on shorts. It felt so liberating when I found out I could still fit them.
Psych meds put on the pounds, I am telling you! And like, ALL of them do that. I think I was on one that didn't and I went kind of crazy on it. I took two days of pills and then went cold turkey because it was too weird to be on. Wellbutrin. Also known as Zyban and used to quit smoking! It smells like rotting eggs. It's disgusting stuff.
Anyway, I'm happy that I'm the same size as last summer, because I didn't want to go out and buy all new shorts, like I've had to do for a few years now. It's a little demoralizing.
I don't mind being fat, but during the years I kept growing horizontally I just wanted it to quit already because of the clothing issues. Cute clothes one year wouldn't fit the next, and so I learned to rely on t shirts a lot.
But t shirts are only cute for so long.
I am thinking of getting pierced again, but I have to save up money for it. I also have to save up money for a tattoo.
Two of my cousins are getting all tattooed up and it's pretty cool to see. I think more of them have plans to get tattoos too.
Piercings and tattoos are so sexy. Except for sometimes. I mean, like some gory tattoo, that's not very sexy to me.
My ex had tattoos of worms on her shoulder and they were all smudgy, I don't think she liked them much. So far I don't have tattoo regret. I need a couple touched up, but I wouldn't change any of them.
My tattoo artist is working elsewhere, and I don't know where she went. I am bereft. No Dr Saffy and no Rachel!

Death, Smoking, And Sex

One time I was watching a newscast about pizza in Italy with my friend/babysitter Jasmine Turner. I remember a reporter asked this Italian kid who invented pizza. He said "the Americans!" and got the back of his head slapped by a passing lady. Jasmine cracked up, so did I, it was so funny.
Jasmine is dead now, she committed suicide almost two years ago. The last time I talked to her I was still coming down from the crazies. I miss her everyday. I think she is in a better place, away from users and abusers. But I still wish she was here, and I know her children who are in foster care have been cheated out of getting to know their mom as adults. That is really hard.
I am lucky to have survived suicidal nights. I remember a few nights when I came so close to doing it, so much emotional suffering and bleakness. It's like you can't see the future. It's so rank.
I haven't been depressed in a very long time now, almost two years. Although I have been a little sad lately.
I think I know why. I have quit smoking. It has been ten days since my last smoke and I'm doing well, doing the patch everyday and enjoying being able to smell the spring air and not smelling like a yuckster AND not tasting foulness. I can actually taste good food again! It's been quite liberating, but I notice I still have morning cravings if I forget to put my patch on.
But I miss smoking, I miss how it was always there for me. This idea (which I know is wrong) that I can relax with a smoke. That I can start the day with a smoke. It's so addictive, and they say it's harder to quit than heroin or cocaine!
I've been getting some good support about quitting, but the sadness comes in waves, especially when I realize I can't EVER smoke again, because I will just get hooked again.
Which makes me think about my old addiction to meth, a very very long time ago, and back to Jasmine, who was the one who told my mum about it and tried to get me to stop. That wasn't what made me stop. I was talking about it with a friend I met on the beach in Vancouver. I had just come off a binge and was dumped by Ivana, my best girlfriend. I was depressed and in danger of becoming dependent on meth. My friend must have noticed this because he then told me ALL about his addiction to meth and how he beat it, all these things it did to his body. I will always remember that talk on the beach. I never smoked it again.
Life is strange, so many things come and go, and death is an ever present force. I have lately lost some faith in what happens after death. I used to be so certain of an afterlife, and now I am not so sure. I haven't seen or heard from Jasmine again, except in a dream. I also dreamt of another friend who has died, Carla Marie Powers. I dreamt she had a girlfriend on the other side!
I often worry about whether or not there will be sex on the other side. I've heard various opinions, some people say it's a physical thing and then other people say it's a spiritual thing so who knows???
The one thing I am looking forward to because of quitting smoking is that my dating options will widen to people seeking a non smoker. Hurrah! I am now officially a nonsmoker!
Well enough silly rambling. I will write more when I have something else I am thinking of.
Oh, and by the way Dr Saffy had her baby, a girl!

I miss you Dr Saffy!

My doctor has gone on Maternity Leave until September 2010. OH! So long without her! She's my favorite doctor I have ever had and now she's starting her family so no more feeling reassured by her bedside manner.
In fact, even though she is a GP she did come see me when I was in the hospital and stopped by my bed. It was hilarious because I was half asleep and still mildly delusional and started talking about the importance of the Paris Expo. And she wrote it down in my file!
She looks kind of like Saffy from Absolutely Fabulous, so my mom and I call her Dr. Saffy. She's even super smart like Saffy.
It was really nice to see her at the hospital, she was one of the only GP's to do rounds in the psych ward. And it's so important to see people you know when you're in a place like that. I have always enjoyed seeing the people who have come to visit me, even when I'm in a funny state like that. I'm sure I said some crazy things to all of them, but mostly I just appreciated not being left to rot. I felt bad for some of the patients, like some of the elderly ones, who never seemed to get visitors.
I also feel bad for patients who have to rely on Medi clinics. Not having that regular continuity of care sucks. Even though my doctor's on leave, at least my file is still going to go to the next doctor and they'll see years of notes.
Dr. Saffy is the one who got me into the psych ward the last time, my mum was making appointments for me with her and talking to her about what was going on and I was just out of it so I don't really remember too much about my interactions with her. Just the appointment on the day of going in to the hospital and I was so sure I was dying because I felt weird and she said I was fine except she thought I needed to go to the hospital. And I trusted her so I went.
And it was fine.
She's been there for all kinds of medical issues, from burning off warts to doing pap smears to testing me for whatever bizarre things I thought I had, and sometimes I was
right.
Even when I was considering transitioning she was being an excellent doctor and looking into what my medical needs would be.
I will miss her terribly and look forward to being in her care again.

My gamer past

I've never been big into video games. I remember the first ones, that were just blocks of colour moving around like Atari's ET, which was the worst video game ever. All that would happen is he'd fall into a pit and you couldn't get out. His neck would move up and down and he'd walk back and forth, but that's all it was. ET falling into a pit.

And then there was Pacman, and I even convinced my mum to buy Pacman cereal. And then of course that notorious feminist Ms. Pacman.

Gauntlet was great fun, my cousin Luke and I used to go to the arcade on Broadway with some quarters and play for as long as we could. But because it was in an arcade, we didn't play ALL DAY! We could have though, it was fun.

Then there was Nintendo, with such favorites as Caveman Games, where the object was to do caveman things like start a fire with two sticks and swing a woman around by the hair and throw her. Yeah, I was a kid but even then I thought that was a bit much.

But Mario Brothers sucked up most of my time. Super Mario Brothers, all the way to Super Mario 4.

As an adult I've seen my best friend have a serious addiction to Katamari Damacy, and I loved that game too, enough to buy the PSP 2 console just to play it. But since Mario Brothers I've never had an addiction on a game. My Mum was addicted to Dr. Mario once, and another friend's mom was addicted to Legend of Zelda.

But today I came SO CLOSE to signing up for World Of Warcraft, thinking I should give it a chance. And then I thought, No. Too many people get addicted to that crazy game and let it suck away their lives.

I'm not big into video games anymore, but I sure do love facebook.


Here is someone more successful at ET than me.

Needs Curtains

The first time I went crazy I ripped all the curtains off the windows. And the weird thing is I remember how much work went into those cheap little curtains. A friend remarked how he had never gone into a house without curtains before.

I don't have curtains again, but I didn't rip them down in a fit of pique this time. They just never got put up. I was standing on my bed today and looking out the window and thinking to myself: If I ever want to convince someone cute to have sex in this room, I ought to have some curtains. After all, one never knows when something particularly acrobatic could occur.

Don't ask why I was standing on the bed.

Since lighting this love candle I've felt small changes in my life. My libido's going back to normal instead of non-existent, and I'm noticing cute women, and I'm actually curious about who I'm going to meet. Instead of just feeling sad about my last affair.

I mean look, I must be nesting if I am thinking about curtains. It's the practical things.

And I admit I have had some smokes. But I really am quitting this time. I keep putting my patch on and go for several hours before smoking. But even that has to stop, and it will.

I think I have an addictive personality. I like things that can fit in my routine and make me feel better. Like writing, or coffee, or cigarettes or any of my other vices. Well, writing's not a vice, except when you're suffering extreme hypergraphia and have manic energy and a world wide platform like the internet.

I've definitely had an interesting life so far. And I'm 31 years old now! I'm getting old. I still don't have many white hairs, but they are there. Actually I've found white hairs starting when I was nineteen. But there weren't many, ever, even now. My Grandpa's 90 and some of his hair is still dark, he doesn't have much dark hairs left, but still, at 90!

I had my bipolar duty to go get blood levels checked since they hadn't been checked since October! Anyway, I had thought it would be a smooth operation (I don't know why, my veins are little titchy goobs that no one can find!) so I was watching her put the needle in and then she couldn't get anything out of me but one feeble spurt. So she got another nurse (or technician or whatever they are) to do it and she got it really fast and it didn't involve all that poking around the last one did. OH MAN! I thought I was tough but I got a total queasy tummy looking at all that and all that pain and I was worried I was gonna throw up. And still I had to get a prescription and an appointment with the nurse, all while just wanting to go pop some gravol.

By the way, ginger gravol really works!

Grubby, but not grubs

It's high time I had a shower. Since lighting my love candle I have noticed myself taking care of myself better in the hopes it will attract someone more than grubby careless me. But my hot water is off because I couldn't pay the bill. So I am unable to shower unless I go to Mum's. And I haven't been to Mum's in a couple days.

Grubby me all over again!

When I got out of the hospital the first time I didn't shower as frequently as I should have. I was so depressed I didn't have the energy to shower, nor did I see the point.

The other day if you were around my house in the morning you might have seen a chubby half naked lesbian chasing a little orange pussy, and that would have been me. That bad Schrodinger got out and was making a daring escape for it while I was checking the mailbox. He's done this to me before, which makes me think I should change the way I check my mail. Wearing clothes while doing it would be a good start.

In truth I should get a bathrobe. I used to have one, but it got burnt because it was the bathrobe I wore for 6 weeks straight in the hospital. And it was covered with tobacco stains besides. Pretty gross!

I'm hungry. I'm waiting for my mommy to pick me up so I can have a shower and eat. I slept some this afternoon. Tomorrow I'm working two short shifts, with a doctor's appointment in the middle.

Oh noes! Nausea!

Maybe I should get some pepto bismol. I am home sick from work, I went and everything but as I was sitting there doing my job I started feeling REALLY sick, like seconds away from vomiting. So I had to go tell the in charge and go home and I feel bad about it. It seems to be passing, but then it will come back in like waves. Waves of nausea. GRODY!

So I'm home again. Wondering what to do. I have been wearing the patch for about three hours now and no smokes, but I might have ONE last one. I am wondering if I am getting nausea from the patch? I really shouldn't have one. Dammit!
See, this is what happens when you blog from freely flowing thought, you argue with yourself on live internet.

Okay, I'm having one but I put the rest of the pack in the freezer so I can't see it on the desk and automatically reach for one. I am smoking it now. I like not smoking, but there's always this idea that I can have the ideal last cigarette. Whatever that is.

And hopefully I don't drop dead after my last cigarette. But anyway, here goes.

So far it is like any cigarette I have ever smoked. It is merely average. It is a DuMaurier Distinct King Size. I've smoked a lot of different kinds of cigarettes, but this is the brand I smoked primarily, even though it was more expensive and I lived in Vancouver half of my smoking life with no treaty discount. All those taxes. This brand used to be known as DuMaurier Light King Size. They were legally required to change the name because it was alleged that people smoked lights more often because it sounded healthier, when they are all the same in regards to what they do to your body.

I used to really like smoking when I wrote.

One of the problems with my smoking is the ashtray. It often smolders and could possibly start a fire.

It never has, but one of my close friends started a fire with her cigarette. And all the spontaneous combustion cases I have heard of involved a smoker. Like poor Mary Reeser.

My smoke is over, and so is my smoking life. Actually it turned out to be a very nice smoke, because I thought so much about it and wrote this.

I'm looking forward to being a non-smoker. No more gross mouth, no more ashtray. No more smelliness. I never have a girlfriend when I am a smoker. And I've smoked on and off for eight years. My last dates were while I wasn't smoking. There is just something about it, I'm almost certain my pitiful love life has to do with my smoking. And probably the four combined years of recovering from episodes. All in all I've been always moving around or not able to be involved for whatever reason. It's been strange. But I'm still hoping that just by quitting smoking again, I will magically attract non smoking girls.

Right now my stomach feels fine. What if it's morning sickness?

An interesting fact: Parthenogenesis can happen to a woman all by herself, one egg will somehow (I forget how they explain this works) fertilize another egg from the same woman.

This makes me worry I am knocked up by some fluke egg collision.

Which is hilarious.

Another interesting fact: Since there are only X chromosomes in eggs, the resulting baby would be a girl.

It's also called Virgin Birth, as I mentioned in the last post, which makes me wonder . . .

If this is what happened to Mary, Jesus must have been a woman.

I don't know anything about intersexed people and parthenogenesis. So I'm not sure if Jesus could have been intersexed. But that's possible too I imagine.

So there you go, a female or intersexed Jesus. It boggles the mind. Well, not really.

Wet and Wild

It's a monday morning, I have to go to work soon but I thought I would write a small blog first.

I am quitting smoking today! Yes! I have the patch on, smoked my last three cigarettes, and am just going to quit like that.

My little kids are fine. I call them my kids but they are the dog and cat. They've grown up with each other and are best friends, it's very cute. When I first got the dog, the cat would attack him, and he was just a tiny bad kitten then. The dog was a year old already and would give me this look as the kitten was wailing on him and I would try to seperate them but the cat freaked out everytime I put him in another room or his crate just to give the dog some peace and quiet. Poor Mister.

In other news, I still seem to be hung up on my last, for lack of a better word, girlfriend. I miss her terribly and wish I could go for coffee again with her, because she was like my best friend while we were together and it was always fun, until I went crazy. She says she's forgiven me for all the crazy emails I sent her, but she doesn't want to see me again until I can be open with my friends about wanting to see her. I am open with my friends about wanting to see her again and they all just say that I should be over it already.

But I lost my virginity to her, which already makes her special, and then I fell in love with her twice, once when I was a teen and once when I was an adult, and it's hard to shake that. I really did want to just marry her and even have babies with her, though I don't know where we would get the sperm. When I was crazy I thought we could get a baby through parthanogenesis, and then it would be a virgin birth! And then we would raise some lesbian saviour or something. It was all very convoluted, and probably one of the reasons she doesn't want to see me again. Pushing my bipolar eggs on her.

I've been stable for a long time now and it makes me feel like I could do a relationship again, no major issues and all that. But I feel bad for my next girlfriend because I am still hung up on my last one. I know that's mostly because I haven't MET my next girlfriend yet and don't know all the delicious surprises in store, but I still feel like I'm cheating her out of having someone whose heart is fully open to someone new. Someone told me I should go for different types, but when I think of all my past lovers and people I've necked with, I've never had one distinct type or anything. I've had butch and femme lovers. And I fell in love with a butch once, really hard! I dunno.

Spring is bringing my sex drive back, but I am still seeing my psychiatrist this week to get a reduced antidepressant dose to try and bring me back to where I was, all wet and wild and happy.

Big Boned Gals

I worked my first midnight to seven shift last night and am still decompressing. I know I need sleep because at 10:30 i'll have been awake for twenty four hours, which can't possibly be good. Oh man! Oh yay, I am yawning! Well, what's new? I am doing relatively well, except for some financial issues which have impacted my life, but that happens all the time. Stupid bills.
I still have not had my major breakthrough with my video. I don't know why. I need to reinspire myself I think.
I started a love spell! It's not on a specific person, it's more a bring someone into my life kinda spell. Unfortunately I did not have the inside scoop on the best place to buy witchy candles, and I needed a pink one, and all I could find was a huge pink candle, which has been burned at regular intervals over the course of two weeks and is still only halfway down. I feel like it should have been a smaller candle. But who knows, maybe I will get bigger love!
I personally like big girls. I've dated all sizes of girls, but the bigger ones are just a little more sexy for some reason. I think because when I'm with a big girl I'm seeing a type of sexy naked body that isn't reflected in the media. So the rarity of it makes it more delicious. I've seen skinny naked girls everywhere, but chubby naked girls? Not since the pick a fold and fuck it ladies in the back of dirty mags. And you don't see the average chubby naked lady represented, it seems to be either skinny or hugely overweight, not those middle grounders.

Plus, I must say, big girls generally have big breasts. I do! And I like ample breasts.
Well, soon I am going over to mum's where there is no computer! Which means no internet. I have a fun fun day planned of sleeping and eating and waiting for the cuz to call and for us to go for some beers. It IS the weekend after all.

I am a bad blogger

I haven't been writing much lately, mostly because I am working so much right now. I haven't been working on my video either, like I said I would. I've been bad creatively altogether.
But my trusted psych nurse, who I see mostly because she gives me insight to things I otherwise wouldn't have, thinks I am in remission. I certainly hope so. It's been well over a year since I was depressed. And two years since I was manic. And I got to go off one drug altogether. I am doing well, to sum up. And no thoughts of conquering the world. It's been really nice.
I am up past my bedtime. I should get to bed soon. I just came from a lovely dinner party. I haven't been to one in ages, besides the ones my mom has. My mommy.

My Mum and I have been getting along a lot better since I moved out of her house. Unfortunately I owe her money. And it's about the same amount I owe to Student Loans.

It's not as bad as you think, I'm treaty, the vast majority of my education was paid for except for the tiniest fraction, which I got a student loan for. And some of it was already forgiven, and it was a summer session anyway. Still, I know just on principle I will pay my mum back before I pay my stupid tiny student loan.

Being in remission again makes me want to get a girlfriend. But where? So far two people on facebook have mentioned Toronto, but I don't particularly want to live in Toronto. And I had a girlfriend who lived in Toronto, and she wasn't interested in living in Vancouver until I moved away from it. And by then we were long since broken up because she said there was no way we could be together because of the distance. I remember I had a nightmare that she dumped me because of her phone bill, and that she would have kept going out with me if Sprint had done it's cheap long distance plan while we were still going out. Who knows.
I'm feeling optimistic about my future lately, not necessarily because of the job, maybe mostly because it is spring and everything looks better in the spring.

UFO's and Artist types

Well, me again.

I'm starting to feel more grown up and recovered than before doing all this work. It's given me some kind of structure and purpose, more than the call centre job I must admit. Because the call centre was something I had done for so long.

But I do really want to be making art too. I really like that. I need to figure out a way to make it so someday. Just live from grant to grant with some award money and stuff thrown in. Or win 649.

I don't get it. I think I blew my wad on Unusual Occurances Allowed Per Life like winning the lottery when Laurel and I saw those two UFO's out by Cranberry Flats. It was such a weird situation, because they were out there for three hours and we saw them show up. In that strange way they did, like streams of light bouncing back and forth in the sky in a circle, and then widening to oval white lights, and then an hour later they were green balls that were shimmering and starting to jump around in the sky, and then they could turn into solid balls of light. And we still don't know what they were, hence they were UFO's. What the hell? What the fuck was that? SO WEIRD! I wrote about it on my old blog, Fit Of Pique.

So seeing UFO's, AND winning the lottery? No way, I so don't see it. But it's nice to dream isn't it?

Being single for so long, I am starting to worry about myself. I used to get so many crushes, and I haven't had any for a long time. Not even an all consuming crush on a movie star. I'm not even aroused by Angelina Jolie anymore! Something is wrong. I am lowering my antidepressant soon in the hopes the problem will be alleviated. I feel chemically spayed. Blech.

I am saving up money for my next tattoo. I am getting cherry blossoms in an oval on my left forearm. I want them because I always used to get depressed in the winters in Vancouver and I would promise not to do anything until the spring, and by spring things looked way better.

I miss being in school, not enough to go back, but enough just to remember happy times when I was all hypomanic and editing all the time. I loved film school. I love film and video. I need to bring it into my life a bit more, it's my passion but I feel like in the last two months I have made no progress on my big project. I feel like a stagnant video artist. Terrible! Well if this is the year of big changes, then I will vow to work on my art more. I need to do some new comics too.

Anyway, I gotta crash. Night night internet world.

update

It's been a long time since I have written.

I have gotten a new job which has taken a lot of my time, not to mention my internet was down. DOWN! I hadn't been able to pay my isp for a long time, and they cut me off until I could pay. Which I finally have, and so I am writing from home, most happily facebooking and all those other things I do online.

I have a smouldering ashtray in front of me. Fucking ashtray.

I come up as number two in google suggestions when you type in Thirza! I'm famous! And I have a weird name!

I like being me these days. Which is good. I'm doing pretty well, and I can get up early for work, which is also good.

I've been so bored without the internet and television! NO SIMPSONS! Oh lord, it was brutal!

My mum is here to go online. I will write more later.