It’s Imam, not Iman!

I’ve given my two weeks notice at work. I’m also going to be working part time. I’m excited about that, so it won’t be SO intense. Last night I was over at my mum’s and she misspoke the word Imam as Iman, it was pretty funny. We were watching a preview for the next Little Mosque on the Prairies.

Iman is kind of intimidating. She looks like she could give you a spanking and like it. She was on Project Runway Canada and her catch phrase was “You just don’t measure up.”

But Iman is not an Imam.

I’m starting to get my sense of humour about being crazy back. I’ve been sharing psychosis stories with friends of mine. I’ve heard all kinds of funny things and told them all kinds of wacky ideas I had.

The funniest was when I was convinced I worked in the secret service and that if I ordered Kentucky Fried Chicken it would be a hit on David Suzuki because dear lord, he does look so much like Colonel Sanders.

So I’ve been trying to figure out what I will do when this grant shows up at my doorstep. I think I’m getting a membership to the Y. And I’m going to take Yoga classes. I need to do something. Something healthy. My psych nurse says it’s a good idea for me to do exercise, especially with bipolar. I keep hearing that but I’ve never really done anything about it.

I really should try and do more things according to the bipolar rules of living. I barely drink anymore, and I do get to bed roughly around the same time every night. I’m getting better.

Tonight I have an interview for Rainbow Co-op Housing. They have one bedroom units for people with disabilities, so my mom talked me into applying a while back. Anyway, they did a bunch of stuff and now I’m having an interview because a unit is becoming available. My name is second down, so it all depends on how I do I guess. I can’t imagine it will be that bad.

If I get in I finally get to live with Mister and Schrodinger, which is the whole reason why I applied in the first place. I miss living with my little cat and dog.

Last spring someone was throwing birdhouses around the neighborhood. I don’t know why. But I found two and brought them in and then wove a huge conspiracy around them because I am crazy.

But anyway, I think we should put one up in the country. I sanded it down and revarnished it and everything, because I was crazy!

Maybe I wasn’t the only crazy person in the neighborhood.

It’s amazing the small details you can notice about life when you are crazy. And the other thing I find facinating about mania is how often it involves God and the Divine. I mean, why does it tend to always go there? Bizarre. I never cared about going to church until my first episode. Then suddenly it made a weird kind of sense.

Now I’m Anglican only in the slightest passing way, I go to church on Christmas and Easter and that’s about it.

I’m open to other religions, but none besides Buddhism has had any kind of attraction for me. The only rough thing about Buddhism is that I think eventually you end up giving up meat, and I’m not sure I’m up for that. I love tacos too much.

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