Monthly Archives: December 2011

Creative Thingly-doos

I never did win NaNoWriMo with a 50,000 word novel. I did however end up with 19 pages of an autobiography about madness. I think I might have to expand on it though, I mean what I write about, because there’s only so much you can say about madness before it gets redundant. My manias and depressions have been pretty similar to each other. I mean, the situations are always different but I always end up feeling like a Messiah or someone who should be dead. It’s kinda predictable.

So yes, I am still going to work on my novel, it just will take longer than one month. And who knows, maybe next year I will write a novel in a month.

I haven’t had a cigarette in 33 hours! I feel pretty proud of that, but I also realize I need a little hobby for my hands to be busy. So I am going to learn how to knit. I am starting off with a scarf. Just a really basic scarf. I hope it doesn’t roll up into a tube, but even if it does I will have something warm and handmade by me around my neck. Tomorrow I go out to pick up some yarn for it, and some number 7 knitting needles. KNITTING!

My Grandma used to knit a lot, so in a way it feels like something I am compelled to do. I don’t have anything she knit for me anymore either, which makes me sad. But maybe I can make some new knitted things. She once made me the best mittens ever, they were purple and the insides were another layer of thinner but softer pink yarn. They were so warm! I loved them and I had them for over a decade, but they weren’t on a string so one day one got lost. And the other followed a year later.

Some friends of mine invited me to join their knitting group, so hopefully soon I can sit around with friends all knitting and doing other artsy crafty things.

I shot my Super 8 film for the 8 fest, but I still have more work to do. When it comes back from the Lab I have to draw on it with a sharpie to simulate blindness, mine in particular. I used to get ocular migraines and the edges of my vision would start to turn white until everything was white except the very middle of my vision. They are scary to have. I think they were related to my oncoming manic depression, because I got them when I was in 6th grade up to second year of university. They come on really fast, so often I would be walking from point A to point B when they occurred. And crossing a street trying to see the walk light when you are half blind is scary as hell. Also I want to talk in my film about my cousin’s blindness and how it is related to his schizophrenia. He stabbed himself in the eyes almost two years ago after going off his medications. So sad.

Also I have to record some audio for my film and edit it and make a little mp3 on a cd for the 8 Fest to play alongside my film. So there is still some work to be done. But I am happy to report it will be done in January in time for the 8 Fest. And the day after it screens I will post it onto my facebook. Maybe some girl will be attracted by my filmmaking skillz.

So creatively I am doing very well. I have been producing things anyway, which always makes me feel good about myself. I don’t feel good when I am not able to be creative.

Also I spend too much damn time on Facebook. But I am always immersed in websites. I used to be on Open Diary all the time. Now I hardly ever visit. But if I knit I can do something with my hands that is productive besides writing facebook statuses.

I am going to hear in January if I got my grant to make a video about being butch, and do a residency in Hamburg while I finish editing it. So I really hope I get it. It would be awesome! 😀 I only applied for 6000, I hope that’s enough. I will have to pay my 500 rent here AND a plane ticket and money to live on in Germany including 60 euros for the rent over there. Also money to make the video, including paying my minimal crew and renting equipment. I think I can do it. I am going to buy the ticket as soon as I can, because then I will get a way cheaper fare.

Oh mans, it’s late! I should go get Little Mister and go to bed. I was hearing this squeaking in the kitchen and it was tripping me out man! Probably a mouse.


I am supposed to go to Australia next year. I am super excited about this, having NEVER gone that far away and also because of the Aborigine culture in Australia. I am not excited about the racism there, but is it worse than in Canada? Canada is pretty racist. All you have to do is read the comments section of the Globe and Mail or CBC to see it in action.

Also all this furor over Attawapiskat. So many people are blaming the band and council, even though they had so little to work with. For those of you from outside of Canada, Attawapiskat is a reserve in Manitoba where the housing situation is so dismal that people are living in condemned housing and tents even in the winter. The government says they had 90 million to build homes, but after everything is taken into account they really only got five million in six years to build new homes, and most of that went to education (they didn’t have a school for a while). Now they have been placed under 3rd party management, which basically means the governments that fucked them over have more power over how they spend their money. It’s a slap in the face.

I am really working hard on quitting smoking. It’s not going very well, but I am still going to try hard! My cousin gave me three beers and it weakened my resolve. But I am still determined tomorrow morning I am not going to have that first smoke!

What else should I talk about? Well, Mister the therapy dog (because he’s not really a service dog) has been getting along well. I was worried getting a dachshund that his back would have problems, but there was only one week where he yelped a few times when he would play with the other dogs too hard, and so he is actually doing pretty good. His injury or whatever it was healed and now he is back to his rough and tumble self. He wrestles with Hermione, the other dachshund, and never complains. So I guess he is well. I love him so much.

Having a dog has improved my life so much. He is six now, so I have had him a little over five years. We got him in may 2006. And he was a year old then. He was going to be a breeding dog but the breeder decided she didn’t want to get into breeding long haired dachshunds, so she sold him to me at a year old for less money because he was going to get the snip and be a pet. And he has been a lovely pet. The only complaints I have about him is that he pees and poos everywhere and barks too much. Some people would find this too much to deal with, but I accept him as a barky and pee-ey/poo-ey guy. I do want to train it out of him of course, but it’s taken a while. He only goes in certain spots anyway.

BUT in terms of love and companionship, he has proven himself to be necessary for my mental well being. Because the basement feels haunted and Mister is a dog with the capability to push away bad spirits, I always take him to bed with me for snuggles and general ghost busting. Just having a little soul on the bed seems to ward away the bad juju. And also when I feel lonely I like picking him up and kissing him.

Also because sometimes my illness makes me think of bad things, like animal torture (be it through fur farms or some other terrible thing like factory farming) I like having a small animal I can curl up with in my arms and just love unconditionally. When bad thoughts get in my head of animal suffering, I like to snuggle my little dog and think how I will keep him safe through his whole life from bad things. I want him to die a very old dog with a very sweet life.

Little Mister is in bed with my Mom right now. I’ve started letting him go to bed with her and then picking him up just before I go to sleep. It makes him happy, he gets tired way before me anyway.

After saying all this stuff about animal welfare, you might be surprised to find out I want to taste Kangaroo while I am in Australia. I hear it’s like venison. I am hoping I have a chance to taste it if I hang out with the right people. The indigenous people. We’ll see.

Oh, and my cousin is back from his journey to the offsale! I should go find out what happened!

Things I know are not true

This whole blog isn’t actually going to be about lies I tell myself. Because I realize I have to give an update on What Happened to Deanna.

Deanna had an interesting conversation with a police officer and then an interesting conversation with some people in an ambulance and is right now in the hospital, and has been there for a little over a week. We found out through the Vancouver Police. So she’s in a safe place, and I’m mostly concerned with her health and what she will do after she is released. I hope she’s done camping with Occupy just because I think it’s better for bipolar folks who need proper sleep to spend her nights with a roof over her head and a decent bed with enough blankets. My first manic episode was escalated in part to the fact I was sleeping on a thin skinny child’s bed for weeks and weeks. Also all that effexor pushed me over.

That’s the thing, people want to blame the pot for me being crazy but my use has been pretty consistent for years and the main things that caused my manic episodes was all that effexor and the second time it was me going off my meds. Oh yeah and both times I went crazy I was also falling in love and THAT fucks me over sometimes. Love is really stressful. I think I could fall in love now and not get all fucked up though, because I’m on meds that work.

My antipsychotics are SO POWERFUL that they render the effects of mushrooms to absolutely nil! There’s absolutely no point in me doing psychedelics anymore. So I don’t.

I guess it’s a good sign. Especially since if I run out of meds or forget too many days in a row I start hearing music in the white noise. Ooooh I hate that feeling!!! I KNOW deep in my heart of hearts that I am hearing it because I am CRAZY and sometimes I strain really hard to hear English words in it, but I never do. I’m not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing. The only thing that reassures me is knowing I at least have the insight still to resume taking my medication as soon as I am due for the next dose. Whew!

Life’s crazy when you’re a crazy person. Weird shit happens.

Oh yeah, but lies I tell myself.

There are some lies I tell myself, to try and make myself be better. One of them is that if I quit smoking, my ex will take me back and we will have a real relationship finally with long range plans and a King sized bed and a blended family of cats and dog. With such a great fantasy reward, you would think I would have quit smoking by now. But it’s not true, which I know, so it hasn’t really made me as committed to quitting. I should really be focused on my main concern about smoking, which is that I don’t want to get cancer and die a painful death relatively young. I would like to make it at least to 70! 80 even! After that I don’t care. Geriatric chronic conditions suck. Alzheimer’s, Osteoporosis, ugh! But I can at least do all I can now to be healthy. I already do so much just to have proper brain health. But then I smoke and could blow out an artery in my brain with a stroke and be dead or crippled. Aaaaaaaaah! I WANT TO QUIT! It’s not worth the little buzz you get. Cigarettes deaden taste and smell and make me less kissable. Wah!

What other lies do I tell myself?

I tell myself that I just have to make amazing art and everyone will want to give me money and help me live as a full time artist. But that’s not true either. I don’t know many people who can live as full time artists.

Today my mom asked me, “What would be better for you? To have a job or to have your own business?” And I said “I think to have my own business because then I can take time off to go do residencies and stuff.” And I think it’s true. I really have to do some cpr on my fledgling business. I need some clients. That’s really the only thing in my way. I should get some cards made.

I might be digitizing some material for someone soon. That would be good, I could get a bit of money into my business bank account.

I tell myself all kinds of lies about how I could be a better person to be an appropriate partner for my ex, but it’s all so ridiculous. Quitting smoking is the least of them. I also think about doing grand projects like making a feature film with some underpaid actors and my video camera and entering it into Cannes and winning the Palm D’Or. And I think to myself “That will show her I have ambition!” And in my head I am shaking my little fist heavenward.

My Mom recently told me Lady Gaga lives with her parents too, even though she has all this money. I think she is telling me that to make me feel less weird about living in her house. And now also living with my cousin Steven and his kid. It’s a multigenerational household! :O

I feel dubious as to how many dates I can realistically score while I am living at home. I’m allowed to bring girls home, I have in the past, I don’t feel weird about it. But the ladies feel weird about it. That’s what I think, anyway.

I think I will fail at bettering myself if I am just chasing an elusive relationship that’s never going to happen. I need to be more focused on making my life count whether or not someone else is in it.