Saturday, June 12, 2004
a door only slightly ajar
I came to realize at a young age that the people I was supposed to be able to count on, I couldn't. That those I was supposed to be able to turn to for help just didn't exist. And so, fumbling and learning and screwing up badly along the way, I just... got along. And so here I am.I've taken some 'friendly advice' over the last few years about the way I try to handle things alone and the belief, at least from these people, that every once in a while if I just admitted I needed a little help, well, then it would be there.
Tell you what. I tested that. It wasn't.
And so I went back to handling everything myself. Because I am the only resting point I have. Because I am absolute zero. Only I can catch myself.
But there are one or two things I don't think I can clear up. Most notably, one thing I'd like to get a handle on, soon. After hauling it about with me for 20 odd years, it's effects on my life have evolved into bad habits that only worsen with time. So, I thought, just one more time, I would ask for help. If only because I need to admit that maybe there *are* things I could use a little help with.
Enter counsellor buddy. Our time thus far has been spent as such:
1. You're unhappy.
No buddy, I'm not. In fact, I'm in a place I've worked hard to be and I'm fairly content and pleased with that. I'm working towards the goals I've had all my life and if you were paying attention and listening to me you'd realize I'm angry and I have been for a very long time but that's a completely different thing than unhappiness.
2. You won't tell me how you feel.
Because... "I'm angry" means the same thing to everyone. "I feel hurt". Well, pal that means the same thing to most people too. Do you want adjectives? I could give you a hundred, still won't tell you anything, will it? I need to know why I reacted this way and how I can come to terms with it. Not how it makes me feel. I know that and it shouldn't matter to you. What matters here is how I think and why I think that way and then finding a different way to see it.
3. You need to go to a group and talk about this.
No, I don't. If talking about it would do any good, then I would have solved the problem more than 15 years ago. If you want me to talk about the bad habits, what is that going to solve? It's a symptom. Not a cause.
Which of course, leads me back to... figure it out myself.
Up to this point I've made halfhearted efforts in that direction, giving myself too much credit and too much rope with which to hang myself. Mr Counsellor Buddy believes that if I avoid situations that cause issues then that will solve it, at least in the short term. Yeah, short term, that's what I need. Way to solve the problem. Uh, hi *waving* try my entire existence asswipe. Good advice that. Thanks.
To that end I came to the conclusion last night that the only way I could fix this one last thing I wanted out of the way was to face it directly. Actually try really hard, talk myself through it, give myself no rope and face it down. Control it, if you will.
And tonight, I did. I am inordinately pleased as g'damned punch with myself.
I've proven to myself that it can be done. Just once, maybe, but done all the same. After all, anything that can be done once, can be done again and success only breeds more success, right?
Avoidance is not the key. Confrontation and control of the situation and my reaction is. That's my theory. Considering it's the only thing that's succeeded thus far, well, then, I guess I'm right.
These are the decisions that work for me. I'm the one that matters here, not you or your theories and your 'tricks', nor your little rose colored view that help is just around the corner. We all know that you can be mugged and beaten on a busy downtown street and no one will stop to help. Why should me and my little problem be any different? To anyone?
I am absolute zero. I can count on myself. And that's the only thing that matters. In the end.
byebye
hmmph. ready early and pissing around with the crappy camera. but now I'm off. bye!
do people not listen to themselves?
For the last three and a half years, Tony:there has had this girlfriend. Off and on. I've never met her. Don't really want to. From what he tells me, she's no one I'd want to know. Case in point... when told that he and I were going on vacation together, this 32 year old woman's response was to tell him I'd better not show up or she'd 'kick my head in.'Now, the last time I heard that particular phrase was when I was FOURTEEN.
I could go on about all this shit, but frankly, it's pointless. During our last conversation he said it was completely over and the only thing reason it had gone on so long was that the sex was fabulous.
Great. Whatever. You go, girl.
Today he tells me they're back together and I say, "Do you think that's such a good idea? Sounds kind of stupid to me."
Considering he's doing something he has told me sincerely and honestly at least fifty times he does NOT want to do, I think that's a fair question.
Well, forgive me my concern. The response I got was "Well, you can tell me about fucked up relationships, can't you? I'm not the one who gave my fucking bank card to someone who ripped me off."
So, now, suddenly, it's about me.
(just as an aside about that whole thing, which most of you missed, is that MY trust being fucked with has nothing to do with me, it's about the person doing the fucking upping, ie: me trusting someone isn't EVIL or STUPID.)
When I pointed out that this wasn't about me but rather my concern for him, he continued to attack me. So, obviously he knows he's a shithead. Because otherwise why attack? And backpedal on things I know were huge issues. And then attack me some more?
To add insult to injury, he implied that my reaction must have something behind it such as an issue I have with him and her. More specifically because I want him or some such silly thing. Yup, he's my best friend, yup we were boyfriend and girlfriend about 800 years ago, yup, I love him. But if it went beyond best-friendedness and I thought that way, I'd be there. Not here.
Regardless, my final comment there was that in the future I guess he shouldn't tell me anything about her because I trust what he tells me, I believe him and although I am entitled to my own opinion, obviously I shouldn't share said opinion and/or concern with him since I am only there to agree with him and tell him he's right, no matter what he does or says. He needs to do what he needs to do, and yeah, talk to you later. ie: get your head together, realize you've just trashed your best friend and call me, cause I ain't calling you.
But you better hurry up cause we're supposed to be leaving for California in five weeks.
If he's going to let this woman destroy our sixteen year friendship, I guess that's his perogative. And his choice.
Idiot.
...I'm going back to my book. Strangely enough, there's a subplot about a girl who pushed her best friend in front of a subway train. Just because sometimes you want to kill your best friend, so she did. I can relate.
I feel compelled to edit here and finish a thought I was just having.
...Not that I think there's anything wrong with thinking with your dick, occasionally. In fact, I applaud it. I myself, in days past, have had sex with someone for no more than the way their ass looked in their pants (well, I can't remember a specific instance, but you get the idea). I just think the issues begin when you have a relationship with said dick-attraction and then expect your friends to wholeheartedly buy into the contradictory lies you're telling yourself to justify it.
There, now I feel much better.
lost in the dust
The used book store I go to is at the west end of downtown (on my way home, in my twenty blocks, etc) and yesterday, knowing there was nothing to read and having an 'early friday' I left work at 4 to spend some time wandering about in it. Normally, I leave work at five and I think he closes at six so I always feel a bit rushed and cheated when I've got to get out.I lugged in ten of the 60 or so books that sit in the 'trade-in' pile in the bedroom and ended up with a thirty dollar credit. There is nothing that sounds as good as book credit to me.
Well, actually there is, but we won't get into that here.
The proprieter is a strange human being. Perched in amongst stacks of books, he seems uncomfortable with human interaction. Calls me *ma'am*. Which I took as some slam against my age until I heard him call someone who looked 19 the same thing. I'm better now.
Anyways, he's got a lazy eye? I'm not sure we could call it that as it doesn't move at all and seems quite a bit larger that the one that does move. I considered that it may be a glass eye, but don't they move about? It never fails to completely throw me off and in concentrating as hard as possible to look at his good eye, I never have the presence of mind to view it objectively. Especially when one is looking at me and the other one is looking up towards the ceiling. Regardless, it's highly disconcerting.
He asks me about books I've read but never offers his own opinion or comments of any sort, or even really answers back. It's as if asking the question is quite enough and he's fulfilled his duty. I've never seen him reading or even holding an open book. I have this strong feeling that he's not a reader and that he sits, immobile, staring at the dusty walls of books until someone comes through the door, whereupon he twitches into something approximating life.
Nice enough guy, though.
Books books everywhere. Dusty big piles of lovely books. So. I wandered. It was wonderful. Where else but in a used book store can you find a 300 page tome listing all the names of pubs in England? And their origin? Not something you come across in a Chapters or a Coles these days.
I checked the travel books and suppressed the urge to buy all the ones that are even remotely connected to the flight plan, being published mostly in 1998. I've ended up with seven horror books (I 'phase' when reading. Last one was mysteries). I briefly considered adding to my collection of Alan Watts, who's pretty amazing, but haven't been feeling particulary spiritual lately. One of his books was the inspiration for the bottom symbol of my forearm tattoo. There's a full explanation here, under 'meaning #3' if anyone wants the meaning behind it. I think there's a pic here somewhere.....*rummage rummage*
And, although I could not find a description of this particular one on the web, Chambers' Guide to London The Secret City, promises to be quite entertaining in it's goal to "reveal London's secrets, the unusual, macabre and mysterious facts about this fascinating city." With chapters entitled, "Murderers' London" "Secret Places" and "Unusual Pubs" - who could go wrong?
Tonight, to Wade's for a biker theme party. He's got a few Australians and a downunder travel specialist coming who's brains I can pick for information, as well as a friend who lives in Tasmania, so I shall bring along my donation for the food bank (he uses gatherings as a way of collecting - which is such a lovely idea) and settle in for a long night of conversation. Would it be rude to take notes, d'ya think?
lyric at post:
..I said to my reflection, lets get out of this place
Past the church, the steeple, the laundrey on the hill..
Friday, June 11, 2004
saving the world, one rodent at a time
In looking about at where I want to go and what I want to do during Airborne Pathojen 2006™ tour, I hit upon a most wonderful idea. Mostly because the UK and Euro exchange rates are horrifying (especially for the pathetic Canadian dollar - 1 GBP = $2.50 / 1 EURO = $1.65).I remember when I was twelve the rate was $3 to one GBP, so things haven't changed all that much in 20 odd years.
Regardless, to extend "away" time (by keeping the $/day ratio low) and see things I wouldn't normally get to see - Conservation Volunteerism!!!! Wahooo!
"O my god, are you mad? you ask? Not really. Or, not mostly.
I already have 'field' experience - living in a logging camp and tracking black bears seven days a week during one project and electrofishing / snorkelling rivers to survey sockeye salmon counts during another. I may be a little less 'fit' now than I was then (although I do weigh the same) but I'm familiar with the amount of work, living conditions, expectations and fieldwork theories/ protocol of that sort of environment.
The other choices in Australia are working on a farm or at a station shearing sheep. Poor little things. Frankly, not as altruistic, is it? I can see the post titles now, 'Girl Snaps and Tries to Shear Foreman Screaming: "Save the lambs! Save the lambs!"' Anyways, not as ecologically friendly nor exciting.
There is one in Scotland working with the dolphins that looks interesting (although a bit expensive, may give that a skip).
Cause of course you pay for transport there and then a stipend for food and accomodation. ie: Scotland is $60 a day, Cape Trib is $15 (keep reading).
I briefly yearned to do either the Game and Lion Park ($60 a day) or the White Lion Breeding project ($90 a day) in southern Africa but the cost to get there is astounding, no matter where I fly in from. It would almost be worth it. I mean, c'mon, Africa? Feeding the lions? Hello? (and yes, it identifies that feeding and cuddling the lions and orphaned animals is part of the job).
Next up was Cape Tribulation Research Centre. BAT research. In the rainforest. Cool. (remember, we're talking about a woman who thinks rats are fantastic (5th & 6th paragragh in that post) I think that one's a keeper (and cheap!).
More research is, of course, required but I think it would be an amazing thing to do along the way in one or two spots. It's nice to pause in one place for a week or two and take a break from being on vacation to do some work. (gahh, did I just say that?) Especially good work. I miss the days in Fish and Wildlife feeling like I actually was doing some good for the planet, no matter how small and insignificant it actually was.
It certainly beats everything I've done since in the 'accomplishing something worthwhile' category. Everything since then has been about making money for faceless environmental killing machines, killing trees researching ways to sell even more stuff to an unsuspecting public and various other nasty personal-survival-based employment. eep. I sound horrid.
The only downside to that is that it requires a more rigid time frame so I think all possibilities will be confined to Australia, New Zealand and Tasmania, since I'll be hitting the UK on the way back to North America and depending on money and millions of other factors, it's not really a time frame I can pinpoint.
So, anyone with any suggestions in that area, feel free to email them along or leave them in the comments. Alternatively, feel free to send $5000 so I *can* do my bit in Africa. Hmm, make that 2,000 ₤ - it sounds way less.
With that, I am going used book shopping. As once again, I am bookless for the weekend.
Thursday, June 10, 2004
fare thee well
AcerbiaI, Asshole
Here's hoping you two are hanging in there, whatever the situation. Sending good thoughts.
No More Ozone.
I'll miss you luckycharm. Thanks, for everything. Come here to visit, please. I'll be waving at you from Alcatraz somewheres about July 22nd. I'll even take a picture just so you know I did.
And, damn if it doesn't make me think......"This calls for Crowded House."
lyric at post:
..I know I'm right
For the first time in my life
That's why I tell you
You'd better be home soon..
Oh, and go do Blue Witch's quick little spin and giggle. Go on then.
doctor, doctor, give me the news
I went to see little funny doctor (LFD) today. Normally, he's an hour late. Today - they called me two whole minutes before my appointment. As I walk in, I say to the receptionist, "Is he feeling alright?" without realizing he's standing right there.He comes in to see me soon after and to distract him (clever of me, I think) I say,(all innnocent like with an eye flutter thrown in for good measure) "What on earth is this thing, here, on the wall?" He says, "It's a cauterizer. We use it on smartasses like you."
Apparantly, I'm supposed to be happier than I am. Cause, you know, Wellbutrin (aka: Zyban) is supposed to make you insanely (and I use that term in it's cheeriest sense) happy. Whereas I've just gone from extreme irritability to a mixture of weepiness and low-level irritability. I've known some of the biggest bastards on the planet to get positively giggly and annoyingly huggy on half the dosage I'm taking. Then again, some of us are familiar with my strange reactions to drugs so you'd understand why I'm not surprised at all.
He offered to put me on something else, which of course, I refused. I'd rather the 'devil' I know than the 'devil' I don't, especially when freaky side effects are involved. I'm okay with this level of Jen-ness for the moment. I think the irritability still stems from the fact that I am continuing to sleep less than five hours a night. Which, eventually, I'll exhaust myself right out of. At least I'm hoping.
We argued for a while about whether or not there's a reason for all this other than some chemical imbalance and his theory that some people are just naturally happy or sad and there's not a damn thing we can do about it. Back to the 'these pills should make you happier' thing. We chatted for a while about my trip around the world. When I need to go back and see him again. Then, since my physical isn't until September, I had him check out this weird little lump I have, that I can't really see.
"So, can you have a quick look at my bum?"
Which is a little embarrassing, frankly. And even more embarrassing since I'm telling you. Just for the record though, it's not really on my arse, PER SE, but on the top of my leg, before you even get to my butt. Regardless, I can't see it can I?
Turns out it's just some little weirdy 'man are you getting old' bump and nothing to worry about. In LFD's ultra-professional opinion, "I can cut it out if you want, but really Jen, it's not like anyone ever sees it, right?
I don't think it was strictly necessary to point that out, but I guess I deserved it for picking on him when I got there.
Otherwise, work is freakishy busy and stressful, the cat stopped poking and gnawing and has moved on to chasing himself around the bed in the mornings, thereby destroying the extra 30 minutes of snooziness I usually get.
Everyone else at work is being a bit assholish (yes, dammit, that's a word). Case in point (yesterday):
me: "Hey, JB can you print out that presentation you're working on for T2 for me, in about an hour, please?"
much later, me: "Hey, JB can you print out that presentation?"
again, later, me: "Hey, JB can your print out that presentation before you go for lunch?"
her: "Why?"
me: "Because I need to review it."
her: "I'm not working on it anymore. It's been tabled."
me: "I still need to go over it."
her: "The numbers?"
me: "No, I'm not number checking, I'm reviewing the presentation itself."
her: "But, it's not in any order, just as he gave it to me."
me: "That might be because it's my fucking job to put it in the right order and until I do, that might be why it's been fucking tabled. Can you just fucking print it out or do I need a note from my mommy? Fuuuuuuck!
Followed by an argument today from the same person that I was not allowed to have a copy because then I might change it. Which was the whole point of me handling it, if you haven't got that already.
This has been an ongoing issue with people at work for whom I have minimal interaction with and who have no idea (nor any desire to learn) what I actually do. Normally they don't bother me, but when T2's job is riding on some of this stuff, the roadblocks are a bit tedious. I had to stop him today from sending out an email that said, "Jen speaks for me. When she asks you to do something, it's because I want her to". Call me crazy, but I figure that will make things even more frustrating.
Regardless, T2 makes my work life an absolute joy. I enjoy booking travel in the morning, writing backgrounders on coal bed methane and briefing the team before lunch, researching relative poverty scales for a report and reading the annual report of one of India's top companies to put forward an opinion on whether we want to pursue business with them in the afternoon. The variety and the weight my opinion carries is wonderful, at least in regards to the person I spend most of my time working for. The rest of them, they don't matter.
I did, however, tell T2 I was planning a trip. He looked, just for a moment, like he was about to faint. But I think he's okay now.
He did keep mumbling, "not for 18 months, not for 18 months," however, which was sort of cute, even if he does think I'll only be leaving for six.
Ill-advised? For some management here, yes. For him, it would just be dishonest and disrespectful, neither of which I'm okay with being.
Besides, there's always bartending and cruise ships. Which, unfortunately, would pay more.
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
minimalism
..seems a bit blah to me, I may be a little TOO used to the backgrounds jammed in there..what do you think? am I taking a mulligan on this one?
lyric at post:
..so I walk about this country
and I walk about these streets to find where my heart lies..
still not here, but smiling at my inbox
As for your world tour, I included a shirt that will get you welcomed in any Fire Hall you encounter, the coffee is always on.
With also thanks to the helpful and informative Pob today.
Guest Blogger - Vietnam
Who, some of you may remember, was in here from India back in March.Gooooood Morning from VIETNAM, where "phat" and "thang" are real words!!
Me dolla is goin fatha!!!! X-section of where me dolla is going:
- Fresh spring roll w/ peanut sauce = $0.05
- 1 Hr shiatsu massage by a BLIND man (read that twice) = $4.50
- 1 kg lychee fruit = $0.20
(I diverge...Did I get to eat all the lychees? No.
Why?
After only 4 lychees my cranium has heated to a gazillion degrees, my cheeks are pulsating and my neck is prickling.....
I must be having an allergic reaction.
So I try to stay calm, continue to breath, and press my head against the minibus window.
After a few minutes supportive Amy asks in a calm voice, "Hey, do you wanna just make a sound every couple of minutes so we know your throat hasn't closed or anything?"
Ahhhh, backpacking. Things like this don't even phase us anymore. You can't do anything about mysterious skin infections, lice, and sudden bouts of..."you know" - all you can do is "monitor it". If it gets worse, you "monitor some more".
Finally, if things get unbearable, you see a chemist. BUT! Remember my plugged ear in India??? Seeing a chemist can just make things much, much worse.
Fortunately, after 20 minutes of monitoring my "allergic reaction" subsided, and my throat did not close.)
ANYWAY, back to how cheap things are in Vietnam....
$7 buys me a night in the DE-LUX "Ho Bich Hotel" (read that twice), where I'm enjoying:
- cable tv (incl. FREE asian porn)
- fridge
- hot water
- a/c !!!!!!!!
We've also got, but are not using:
- "Beyond explicit" asian porn (yes, this appears in both lists...don't ask, don't tell...)
- A complimentary comb... complete with complimentary hair in it...ewwww!
- NINE (9) complimentary cups (tea cups, bathrm cups, glass cups, bedside table cups....)
- complimentary old man slippers
- complimentary crudded "foot disease infested" shower sandals
- 2 complimentary communal toothbrushes
One other thing... You may be familiar with the horrific Pol Pot regime and genocide that took place in Cambodia from 1975-79... We visited the S21 Prison where thousands of innocent people were tortured to death. Then we went to the Killing Fields, where mass graves of these innocent people have been exumed and thousands of skulls are on display. Through it all, our Cambodian guide kept saying "I don't understand how people were capable of this. It is so wrong. We don't understand."
Next stop on the tour? THE SHOOTING RANGE!!! Where you can fire an AK47 at human shaped targets!!??!!!
We declined this portion of the tour. A tad inappropriate I thought.
That's all for this edition, I hope this finds all of you happy, healthy and loving life!
Love C
Monday, June 07, 2004
away message
I am in an intellectual discussion with a potato.Soon I'll be so caught up in whether it was Descartes or Voltaire who first advocated empiricism that it will fail to strike me as a bit odd that the potato knows much of anything about 17th-century French philosophers. In fact, it knows more about them than I do.
Later, that will probably irritate me....
I'll be back soonish...
away message thanks to Muted Faith
the way I see it
As much as I hate the noise, I do feel bad that Calgary lost the Stanley Cup. The team did an incredible thing throughout their entire run. But here's the way I see it...Calgary Flames (CDN team) = 3 American players, 9 int'l players, 17 Canadians.
Tampa Bay Lightning (US team) = 3 American players, 7 int'l players, 15 Canadians.
As far as I'm concerned, it was still Canadians who won the cup. Call me crazy if you wish.
Doesn't anyone ever do the math? It's not who you pays your outrageous paycheques. It's where you come from. And hockey is still our game. Our national game.
(If you don't count lacrosse, which no one gives a shit about these days.)
And, to be fair, baseball is what I consider to be the national game of the Americans. You don't find a whole lot of Canadians playing baseball.
Football, you say? Doesn't count. They're two different games between our countries.
But, that's just the way I see it.
And why are the wives invariably blonde, anorexic, haggard and infinitely more ravaged looking then their husbands?
another notch on the creepy scale
Having slept somewhat funnily the other night, my back is twitching and spasming away so yesterday I made the executive decision to stay home today. Thought I'd sleep in if possible, take a few muscle relaxants, lie about on the floor, you know, all those fun things.Being woken up at 9:30 by the cat wasn't really in the grand plan. He seems to have decided that munching on my bicep isn't quite as effective as he'd like, given, I think, that most of his teeth are missing and the fangs are broken off due to the frozen food I'm sure he gnawed on during his sojourn as a homeless street wimp...er, killer. Mouthing me just doesn't seem to impart the necessary urgency.
This morning he tried a new tactic. Poking me in the eye with his thumb. I swear, I'm absolutely serious about this. This picture is a little deceiving in that the thumbs look like cutesy little bumps when in fact they start quite a bit farther up his paw and are, in actuality, three (yes, three) centimeters long. I measured.
I got out of bed quite smartly when I realized what he was doing. I mean, think about it. EWWWWW. Thumbing me in the eye. Let's just hope that he doesn't have enough strength in his arms to blind me.
Anyways, being up, I checked in with work, got roped into a conference call and am now having to 'work from home'. And hard at it, as you can see.
Which brings me to the thoughts that since most of what I do is accomplished on the internet, why do I even bother to go in at all? Followed closely by, is this a sick day or am I working? And, are they going to pay my cell phone bill for this?
Which means now I feel guilty and must actually do some work.
lyric at post:
..times have changed and times are strange
here I come but I ain't the same,
Mama, I'm coming home..
Sunday, June 06, 2004
the winner is
Airborne Pathojen 2006.Thanks for playing everyone.
