Monthly Archives: October 2009

Love Spell is Finished!!! Now what? Where is she?

I finished burning my Love Spell candle. It has gotten to a point where I can no longer safely burn it. In fact, the last time I burned it I ended up catching a whole bunch of hot wax in my hands to keep it from hitting my clothes or the carpet.
This might seem like a bad omen, but hot wax is what turned me onto S/M in the first place.
It’s one of those spells to attract an as yet unknown mate. Not on anyone specific. Although I did intend to bring someone into my life with specific qualities.
But it was funny, when I was working on the qualities in a partner I wanted, I was thinking a lot about my bipolar disorder and what kind of person would be able to handle my illness.
It’s a depressing thought that my bipolar disorder impacts my relationships, but it does.
And the stigma keeps people away, even though the majority of the time I’m sane. Sane and sexy! LOL.
I hear some people like their partner’s hypomania because of all the wild sex.
It’s a perk I guess, but I don’t go into hypomanias very often.
Oh man, I just found out there is a guy in the neighborhood Schrody went missing who has been abducting cats and torturing and killing them. It’s really sickening, and the police know about him but aren’t doing anything. Saskatoon police are so worthless, when have they ever done anything for our community???? They piss me off. ANYWAY, I’m disturbed because I don’t want to have intrusive thoughts about my cat’s demise. I am pretty sad.
OH YES! AND I lost my job. That makes me depressed too, but I am applying for other jobs and with some luck I will be working at least over Christmas. All the jobs I’m applying for so far are temporary.
I am thinking about going back to school to become a paralegal. I still want to make art, but I need to make money too. I dunno, I have to get it together by January if I want to take the 10 month legal admin assistant course which is a prerequisite for the paralegal program, which is only six months! BUT I need a job that will be easy to get, as in there would be lots of opportunities out there when I have to come back to the workforce from a video project. SOOOOO, I kinda think I’m going to go for a nine month Admin Assistant diploma instead. We’ll see, either way I would need to secure funding from my band before I could proceed with getting educated in office shit. And the Saskatoon Health Region has a lot of jobs for people with that diploma.
Anyway, I may as well hit post before I bore you to tears with some other thing I’m thinking about!

I am the Narwal, Coo coo ka choo!

I have always wanted to go narwal watching, the unicorns of the sea. So cute! I am thinking of saving up money for a trip to go see them. I don’t know when, maybe 2010? I know 2012 my Dad and I want to go to the Mayan ruins and see what happens. I hope we still do that, I’ve never traveled with my father. I mean, we’ve both been in certain cities at the same time for art related reasons, but we’ve never taken a trip together. At least, not since I was very small.
And my memory isn’t so good from when I was that small.
But back to traveling. When my Mum and I were in Wick we saw some Puffins flying and making the cutest noises, and also standing on a rock. It was amazing, Puffins! They are also cute!
Whenever my family and I would go up north to the cabin my Grandma would get out her Field Guide to North American Birds and she and my Mom would identify which birds they saw and talk about them. They also do this with plants.
I do this with the paranormal. What type of hauntings, types of UFOs, wondering if Chupacabra is real and if so if it is an alien or some military experiment gone awry.
I also like to talk with people about various psychiatric medications, what they look like, what they do, what was your favorite and what really sucked.
Back to the Narwals. I remember once in Elementary school we got pieces of yarn and taped them to the wall to show how long types of whales were. I remember being suitably impressed by them all. And I always giggled at the Sperm Whale. The poor Sperm Whale.

My cousin Luke once wrote a paper for school whose first line was “The common vole is not a mouse it is a vole.”
Voles are pretty cute. I have a soft spot for rodents.
The cutest thing I have ever seen was when I was reunited with my lost hamster William. He was in my backpack when I was outside and when I got home he wasn’t there anymore. And I cried and made a poster the next morning to find my hamster when I found a sign that said “Found: 1 White Hampster.” I called the number and walked across the apartment complex where I found my sweet William with GINOURMOUS cheeks! He came home and spent the next half hour pulling bread crusts out of his cheeks. They can pack away a lot of shit man! That’s intense. I wish I could hide food in my cheeks, that’s a handy trick. I was in grade two, in case you were wondering why I made such a bad error in regards to thinking a hamster would stay in a backpack.
My interest in identifying wildlife reminds me to tell you about this book you should buy called Lesbian National Parks & Services: Field Guide to North America by Ranger Shawna Dempsey and Ranger Lorri Millan. I’m the lesbian bottom in the lower vertebrates section! It’s a pretty funny book and has practical lesbian information for life in the bush!

Morning Internetland

I was being interviewed by CBC (and I still don’t know if my story will get on the radio) but at one point the interviewer asked me what i thought my stories said about myself.
And I realized I write my blog mostly to talk to myself. I mean, I always wanted my blog to reach other people, but in the early days with no visitors I wrote mostly for myself. Just to see how I progressed in life I guess.
It’s been an intense five years with this blog. And I still mostly write for myself. I used to keep diaries all the time, since I was nine. And then ten years later I started a blog long gone on Open Diary. I was working on the concept of private thoughts going out into the ether. And I’ve continued it since.
I do keep some things private. Surprisingly. Not a lot, but some.
I am taking the day off today. I need a mental health day. Just one day this week I can be irresponsible. Be hungover from my journey to Specklebelly’s offsale. Want to hear something totally rude that happened to us? We got home and were drinking our beers and then my cuz found a beer that had a puncture in it and was half full. What the hell Specklebelly’s??? We was ripped off. She wanted to share it, but who knows what is in that beer? Even if it is just some saliva germs, that is still gross when it is not someone you know.
I want to make a paranormal investigation video. I need to find at least two more people who want to stake out Cranberry Flats on October 22, the third anniversary of when Laurel and I saw those ufos. I hope it can be done!

Appropriation Related Death

My facebook home page has been chock full of articles about the recent sweatlodge deaths in Sedona Arizona. And so I feel I have to say something about it, because it is such an example of how deadly appropriation of culture can be. Especially when Capitalism is thrown into the mix.
To start with, it was a weekend retreat that cost $9000 a head. Sixty plus people were all in one lodge. It used PLASTIC as part of the covering. And instead of doing four rounds they stayed in there for TWO hours. And let’s not forget the name, “Spiritual Warriors.”
My Uncle John has been running a sweatlodge since I was a little girl. I have really good memories of going to his sweats, I haven’t been in a couple years, but I will go again I’m sure. I was little when I first went to a sweat. I remember my cousin Luke and I were walking on a mound of old sweat rocks and a man told us to get off of there. They were all jagged. And they made this funny sound, like styrofoam almost, because a rock changes after it’s been in the sweat. Inside was an intensely spiritual and personal experience, and I loved the Cree songs and the praying and the lights and the rattle. And at the end, they would open up a can of berries and we would eat them. Oh yeah, and one other crucial thing about his sweats, and all sweats I’ve been to, is that we would drink lots of water between every round. Rounds didn’t last that long, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. And he would know when it was too difficult for someone or too hot and usually the only really physically intense moment was just before the door was opened.
Even if no one had died or gotten ill at Spiritual Warrior, the fact that my culture is being exploited for profit by a white man oozing privilege makes my blood boil. An experience with the spiritual is not something that can be bought. It shouldn’t come with a $9000 price tag, or even a $250 price tag, like some unlucky local white person paid. Sweats are free, you just need to bring tobacco and/or cloth (at least around this here neck of the plains) if you need them to pray for some specific healing.
My Uncle John likes to google “Sweat Lodge Deaths” and tell us different ones he reads about. Usually it’s the same kind of thing, used plastic instead of canvas for the covering or staying in for a really long time. Really DUMB mistakes like forgetting people need oxygen to breathe and that heat can KILL YOU!
James Arthur Ray is the self help author of this terrible tragedy. He has appeared on Larry King, Oprah, and The Secret, according to his website. He is the President/CEO of “James Ray, Inc.” I think he is a great example of a shining turd. What do YOU think?

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?


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!