Today was a whirlwind of last minute editing and typey-typing and smoothing out and I was all set to print at 9:30 this evening. I printed out all my financials and then I moved onto my business plan, and I was halfway through printing out my business plan when the paper ran out.

CRAPPY!

Luckily I don’t have to have it all printed until tomorrow before supper, we are going to stop at Staples on the way home and photocopy it all into four neat little packages to give to the panel at my presentation Friday morning. I have to do a couple edits on a video tomorrow too and print it to tape to take with me and show them. I am nervous for my presentation, I have to get some good notes written. It’s going to be 20 minutes with 10 minutes for questions. Considering I’ve done numerous artist talks that are longer than that, I think I am going to be okay. It’s mostly getting every bit of information I have to present ordered and facts jotted down.

Next week I am shooting some video for AIDS Saskatoon as a volunteer gig and I also have a bookkeeping class to attend. But aside from that I am a mostly free agent after this week and am supposed to be securing financing and incorporating and getting my business license and so forth, all those little start up things. I have to register my domain name too. I am lucky in that the dot com is available for my company, woo hoo! I also have to try and get some quotes for my logo/website/business card design. Oh, and flyers. And I have to put together some more in my reel, maybe by editing completely new footage just to demonstrate some of my editing skillz.

I’m sooooooo tired! I will probably let myself sleep in for a couple hours tomorrow, I stayed up until 4am and got up at 8am yesterday, and even though I had eight hours of sleep since then it has still taken a lot out of me. My stomach has also been bothering me again lately, with puking sometimes, and I think it might be my gallbladder acting up, it was quiet for a few months! I really have to call my surgeon. I need it cut out of me! Take it away! And all it’s stones!

I kind of hope they put them in a jar and let me see the evil huge stone which will never squeeze through my duct. I wanna see!

I’m excited about venturing into the business world. I’m sure it will bring a whole host of new issues into my life, but it’s going to be so different from working for other people. I mean, I will work for my clients, but I won’t have a boss. I’ll be the boss! 😀

I really want to go to Burning Man this year. The theme is Rites of Passage. I’m imagining some gay male hazing ritual (and aren’t all hazings semi-homoerotic?) of some little naked newbie running by a line of leathermen who are all paddling his little butt as he runs. Or Parker Posey squirting ketchup on my naked nubile body.

But I have to save up for that, and since I can’t earn any more than what CanSask gives me until the end of July, I am going to be strapped for cash. And even after that I am not sure how many clients I will have or if I will be making enough money. Hopefully by then I will have semi-regular business. My overhead is not very much, which is a major plus of running a home based business. For instance my rent is fifty bucks. Not my real rent for living here, which is 400, but my office rent.

Jeepers this business plan is FAT! Maybe I should photocopy it double sided.

Aw, lil’ Mister is sleeping on the cushion next to me with his head on the floor. I found a picture of him in my email standing on four cans. It was what his breeder did when she was selling him to show how well trained he was. Of course I have never been able to get him to do it since. Once I said “Roll over” and he did! I was like “OMG! You know a trick!” But then he refused to ever do it again.

However sometimes he will shake his bum if I say “Shake yer bum!” and it is so freakin’ cute! I’ll say it over and over and he’ll keep shaking it to make me laugh!

Tonight I saw my sister Sky. We cuddled, which is more like her mauling me, and she spouted gibberish non-stop. I like listening to all the words she makes up. Tonight she was saying something like “Tidd tidd tidd tidd tidd tidd tidd tidd tidd.”

She also says something that sounds an awful lot like “Yeah!” So maybe she is adding one more real word to her limited vocabulary.

No more paper! 🙁 Tis a sad thing. Now I wish I had listened when Mum told me not to print that grant application due in April. I don’t even need it right now. 🙁

Also next week I am going to have some more time to write my Mars Script, which has been gathering electronic dust on my computer. I need it done by April 1st for the Aboriginal Media Arts deadline. I’ve decided to apply in that category because I think I might have a better chance than in the regular media arts program, since only one jury member on those juries is aboriginal. And it is a specifically aboriginal work dealing with aboriginal issues, although since it is science fiction and talking about contemporary issues we deal with, a non-native jury might think it isn’t at all relevant to my community when it is. Last time it was because I submitted a documentary clip (and a non-doc video) for my support material and for some reason they didn’t think it had bearing on the project. Since when does one video have to do with the next? Do I have to pigeonhole myself? Such a drag. Also some people have said they might have issues with giving me a big budget because my history has been self funded low budget works and why don’t I just stick with that?

In fact some people have told me to make the video anyway, but I don’t want to rip off actors by not paying them and I don’t want to not have a set, since they are in a space ship for the majority of the video. How can you make a science fiction space film with no spaceship? And I have to rent a studio to shoot in without outside noise, which is going to cost more money. So no, I am not shooting this tape in a closet with my finger puppets. And plus the whole point of making this video is to get more directing experience so that I can move forward on Bunnyhug, the feature film I wrote.

The good thing about incorporating my company is that I can also use it as a production company later on and be able to get some money from Telefilm, hopefully.

Thank god I am stabilized on my medication. I could hardly work when I was not stable. Having bipolar disorder is a bit like being on a seesaw with someone way bigger than me on the other end. Up in the air with feet dangling, then crashing down on my bum, over and over again. But right now that seesaw just feels like flat earth, calm and centered. I’m relieved.

Dr. Conacher is going to be taking me off of my Celexa completely because it is still negatively affecting my libido. Kinda sucks. I’m sure if the opportunity presented itself again I could go with it, but I wouldn’t be the best initiator.

My make out friend won’t make out with me anymore. It kinda sucks. I didn’t even care about getting into her pants by the end of it, but I do like kissing, it’s probably my favorite thing. Oh well. And then someone I hoped would be my new make out friend has had major health issues recently and is unavailable for making out. Soooo, well that sucks.

And bites.

I’m starting to come to terms with the fact that the love of my life does not love me. It hurts, but I really should move on and allow myself to open up to new women who can actually deliver on what I want. I wrote to her about Matthew, and she never even wrote back with condolences or sympathy or anything. I thought it was pretty cold. So maybe part of that is a good thing in that I can see how she really is, which is not loving towards me at all, even as a friend. Even a one line email back would have been nice. I didn’t expect some long lengthy debriefing on suicide’s aftermath, just something like “I’m sorry to hear about your friend. I am sending you good vibes” or SOMETHING!

Apathy is even worse than outright hate. At least with hate you know there is some kind of passion. Negative yes, but at least it is SOMETHING!

It’s been a weird few days because I have been so busy with school that I haven’t had much time to think about Matthew, but he still drifts into my head at the most unusual times. I talked to my psychiatric nurse yesterday about him. She told me about a funeral she went to for a daycare worker and a lot of children attended and they told a story in the service. It went something like this. There were these waterbugs and every once in a while a waterbug would go up a blade of grass and disappear, and never come back. And all these waterbugs were worried about what happens up there and where their friends were going. So one waterbug said to the others “When I go up the blade of grass I will come back and tell you what happens.” So one day it went up the blade of grass and became a dragonfly. But it realized it could not go back. It was a story to explain death to children.

So it makes me wonder where Matthew has gone, and what he has transformed into. I have a feeling where ever he is he is happy. I just wish he had stayed longer and been happy with us.

Little Mister and I have to go to bed!
Shake yer bum Little Mister!

Right now what is really bothering me is that a relative is trying to censor what I say on facebook, and most likely this blog as well. He says it is too explicit and vulgar. I never said I was a child friendly writer. I don’t have children on my facebook, just a teenager or two who tend to say more crude things than I do. I swear, I write about sexuality (I am a lesbian activist filmmaker after all), that’s about it. Once in a while I drop words like boobs or breasts. I’ve never said the c word on facebook (okay, yeah I did in my quotes, now it’s a blank word). But I said the C word on Bravo and APTN. Hell, I say it in my videos.

It’s really frustrating because I hate when people try to censor me, which has been happening since I was sixteen and making lesbian video art. There wasn’t any sex in it (I’ve had long standing dry spells for most of my life, so I actually don’t make very much work about specifically sex) but there was a lesbian teenager talking, which back in 1995 was very taboo and forbidden, especially in Alberta which is where it screened. I was actually outed in my hometown newspaper while I was still attending high school and being somewhat closeted for my own personal safety.

Anyway, people have been trying to tell me what I can and can’t say for half of my lifetime. And it feels like a special betrayal when it comes from your own family. Like, you think they might get it! But lamentably no. My Uncle has never been comfortable with me being queer as a three dollar bill and is even more uncomfortable that I am open about it and discuss sexuality on my online profiles/blogs/what have you. He told me I was “too explicit” and to “tone it down” for “your own good.” It was kind of threatening.

So I got pissed off and while I was seeing red I wrote fuck off and defriended and blocked him. And then I got in trouble for saying fuck off.

Sure it was rude, but man oh man was I pissed. It wasn’t the first time he has tried to censor me, and it probably won’t be the last either. Truth is ANYBODY who tries to censor me is going to get the exact same two word answer I gave him. I would have told those Alberta politicians to fuck off if I could, but I didn’t know how to handle heterosexually imposed repression of homosexuals back then.

So it is really making me rethink if I should be friends with ANY of my family on facebook. If I shame them so much by being who I am, what does that mean for me and them? I also have a documentary about me on rotation on two Canadian television channels where I say cunt, are they going to next demand that I stop allowing those tv channels to air that program? Are they going to ask me to pull the tape where I said cunt from the collection at UCLA? When I die are they going to have a big bonfire for my art and say good riddance?

But then that paints my whole family in a negative light, where it is really only this one Uncle who has an issue with how I live my life.

I think respect is a two way street. I know there is that whole Indian thing about respecting your elders, but not everyone who is my elder is worthy of my respect. And if they don’t respect me, why the fuck should I respect them? I had other issues with this Uncle when he stayed with us at Christmas. He was getting into my personal space in the basement and making comments on the state of my room and all kinds of highly inappropriate invasive behaviours. He wanted to “help” me clean up my room (I had clothes on the floor, a five minute job at the most) and also said ON CHRISTMAS DAY that there was no way I could be an entrepreneur/run a business because I was messy and had bipolar disorder.

This Uncle also has bipolar disorder, but he is totally bizarre about it! He thinks that it means you can’t work in management, you can’t do this, you can’t do that. His thinking on it is really dark ages, and in truth I almost suspect he is using his disorder as a really good excuse for his own bad behaviour.

I make highly personal videos using highly loaded words about highly loaded subject matter. I have been doing this for half my life. I have a following. I have fans. I am a public figure of sorts. I have a professional life that some people would not think is very professional. I am not afraid of language, of crafting it in crafty ways peppered with slang and, sure, explicit language. I’ve got a video circulating with a wide open beaver shot with a lock dangling from my hood and labia piercings that has been going around since 1998. That’s 13 years! I am not ashamed of my early work. I feel like I am not as edgy as I used to be. But that doesn’t mean I will avoid edginess or controversy.

My work is controversial. That is a fact. I’ve had the vice squad called because a museum employee thought I had made child porn (apparently myself as a nude nineteen year old is child porn????). In fact, the vice squad didn’t have an issue with the nineteen year old beaver shot with the lock on it, BUT they were troubled by a photograph of my mother changing my diaper when I was a baby. Talk about sick fucks. There you go right there.

There is presence in anger. I forget if Toni Morrison or bell hooks said that, but it is true. It fuels me to make my next work. It makes me realize there is something worth fighting for.

But I am ashamed that the forces at work in silencing me is coming from my own family. The rest of my family, while possibly embarrassed by my choice of words on occasion, has never told me to shape up or behave myself in my online personas.

In closing, well behaved women rarely make history. As long as the envelope can be pushed, I will be pushing it. My mere existence as a genderqueer lesbian of colour pushes the envelope already. I will not be diluted to placate a conservative relative. I’m a full strength kind of a woman.

I haven’t written everyday like I was going to this past week because I wasn’t sure what to write or how to respond to what has happened.

On Monday my friend Matthew committed suicide. I found out on Tuesday. It’s been a pretty rough week. I went to the viewing on Thursday and saw him for the last time. His funeral was yesterday, and his wake was last night.

I don’t know how to convey who Matthew was in writing. He was a very loving sweet creative human being who was suffering from the same thing I have, namely bipolar disorder. I won’t tell you what he told me the last time we saw each other, because a lot of it is personal to his experience of the disease. But I will say he and I exchanged stories of bipolar disorder as it has affected us in our lives. He was being treated with a medication I had been on, but really all it had done for me was make me sleep.

When I found out I had a cry, and I have squeezed out a few tears since but mostly I have felt numb and shocked.

Maybe what shocks me the most is that I do know why he would take his own life. Bipolar disorder is no cakewalk. I feel like I’ve been luckier than most in that I have a really good psychiatrist who has kept me episode free for 4 years or so. Oh sure, a couple of stress related depressions have happened to me, but those were mild compared to the potentially lethal nature of psychosis. Not in terms of me hurting others, but hurting myself. I believed so many strange things, I was lucky not to wander into a harmful situation, like taking a ride from a stranger or thinking I could fly.

The truth is that we don’t really know what Matthew was thinking about when he died, except that he couldn’t do it anymore. This act of living. I am really going to miss him too, he was such an exceptional human, it’s hard to believe someone who had such PRESENCE is gone from us.

I don’t feel like this post is going to do him justice.

I told his mother “thank you for raising such a beautiful man.” And she said “Thank you for loving him.” For my own sense of closure that is pretty good.

I have to get on with life, is the cruelest part. My major presentation for my video editing company is this friday at around about 11am. I have to present the whole business plan. I am going to be working like a dog for this next week. I really really need to get some more work done. It’s been hard dealing with this and a (so unfortunately named) deadline. I’ve been spending a lot of my time talking with friends about what happened. The world keeps turning, even without our much loved friend being with us.

Sometimes I feel having bipolar disorder means being in a near constant battle, always struggling with the undertow of thoughts and moods and the danger of losing one’s health so easily. I forgot my medication two days in a row this week and started hearing music whenever the furnace came on. It was pretty creepy, and even though I knew it wasn’t real, it still tripped me out and made me want to hide.

Could I have prepared him any better for what it would be like with bipolar disorder? Are we really so ashamed of psychotic symptoms that we don’t honestly and openly talk about how our brains can trick us?

Out of the whole spectrum of moods that is bipolar disorder, manic psychosis and depressive psychosis are the least discussed, except in negative terms like people suddenly chopping off someone’s head. We aren’t taught as a society how to recognize suicidal states, or we are even taught that only the weak commit suicide, that they took “the easy way out” and all kinds of stigmatizing views that keep people who need help from pursuing it.

I had one dangerous night, way back in Vancouver when I was 20 years old. I thought I would do it. I was really close. I was too jumbled for a plan, but it was one hell of a dark night. I ended up calling a crisis line and talking to a volunteer about what I was feeling. That night they hooked me up with a counsellor at SAFER, which is a free counselling service in Vancouver for people having suicidal crises. I saw that counsellor for a long time and worked through a lot of issues. Just knowing I had that appointment the next day got me through what could have been my last night on earth.

The suicide crisis line in Saskatoon is : (306) 933-6200

If bipolar disorder is the battle some of us are fighting, then Matthew was the unfortunate casualty of that war. We can sit around thinking about all the what ifs and it still won’t bring him back. But I choose not to believe he killed himself. Bipolar disorder is what killed him.

I hope we can come together as a community and support each other. I’m pretty open about having bipolar disorder, but there are even more of us, quietly relating to each other about what it’s like having it. If his death can change anything, I hope it is more openness about mental health issues.

I am trying to do my resolutions but my mom is wandering around this office going “Oh crap” and “these are all yours!” and otherwise cleaning and being annoying. OMG! She left! Hurrah! She keeps making piles of my things and giving them to me. Thanks?

I have not seen any weirdness in the basement recently. I feel a bit relieved. No flashing lights, or black blobs, or little men with big cheeks waving like I saw that one day. Whew! But I am still going to make an eye appointment. I might have some genetic eye disease my mom has, which needs to be checked on.

Do you remember Gattaca where they have their life course laid out for them based on their genetics? Sometimes I worry that is where we are heading. They are starting to do more and more dna tests screening for things and I’m wondering when the insurance companies are going to require a screening test.

Personally, I don’t think insurance companies should be allowed to deny someone insurance because of a “pre-existing” medical issue. That’s just fucked, who DOESN’T have a pre-existing condition??? And in the states being a woman is considered a pre-existing medical condition because they don’t want to pay for women’s health issues. Which is ridiculous considering women live longer than men.

Anyway, they are worried about paying for a baby to be born. The insurance companies creep me out!

But back to my eternal quest to be loved.

I got this fortune cookie last night that said “To be loved, be lovable.” I sometimes worry I am not lovable enough. I was really worried when I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder that I would never have a happy relationship with someone, that I would always be seen as broken and not worth forging a meaningful long term relationship. I used to think it was specifically because I have bipolar disorder that I worried about this, but now I am thinking anyone who is suddenly diagnosed with a life altering medical condition ends up feeling this way.

We are raised to treat partner’s like commodities. There’s this whole idea that there is a “perfect” partner out there who doesn’t fart or have medical issues, who is always healthy and the right amount of sexual and doesn’t need fixing and will be able to read your mind! They don’t exist, in case you are still looking. That being said, I absolutely ABHOR when someone gets together with another person with an eye for fixing them to be this perfect partner that never cries when it makes you uncomfortable and never gets sick. Someone who will suddenly abandon all their family of origin issues and quit drinking for the rest of their lives. It’s kind of creepy to want to change people, especially if one professes to love them for who they are.

Anyway, none of my girlfriends have tried to change me, or if they did I think they failed. But for not trying to change me, I salute them!

Once I was talking about an ex and someone told me they were fucked up. And I was like, well, no, they just had a shitty life, that doesn’t mean someone’s fucked up and should be chucked out with the trash. I hate how as soon as someone has issues they are seen as disposable people. This is especially true when people talk about persons with addiction issues. It’s considered in Canada to be a mental health issue, mental health and addictions are always squished together as services. It makes sense for a few reasons. But it is also interesting to see how the stigma of addiction works in much the same way as the stigma of mental illness. Disposable people.

It’s not a coincidence that many homeless persons suffer from both addiction issues and a mental health issue. Because of all the stigma very few people want to house us. Most of the facilities existing in Saskatoon to get people off the streets are strictly sober living facilities. Even the group homes for persons with mental health issues are all sober living. It SUCKS if you don’t want to live sober. You have no choice but the streets.

But I’m straying from my original intent of this blog, which was to write about my eternal quest for love as one of societies rejects.

Some people don’t realize that persons with mental disability (cwazy folks) are protected from discrimination under Canadian law. They say shit and discriminate to their heart’s content and sometimes (mostly) get away with it because the target doesn’t have the ability to follow through on human rights charges. I’ve had one “friend” I am trying to ditch because he keeps saying fucked up shit to me about my disability. I hope he tries it at work and gets his ass fired for being a bully douchebag!

Anyway, I don’t really want to be with someone who considers me broken for having a mental health issue that has been stable for years. I couldn’t handle being with someone who was that hateful. There’s this thing where bipolar folks often pick another partner who has bipolar. I’m almost drawn to that because then my partner could see where I was coming from. It would make things a lot easier in that respect.

But then there’s also the idea of double trouble if two bipolar people fell in love. But that’s a negative view of it, I think. I’m rambling now.

Arg here comes mum again!

Now she’s telling me I have work to do and she is rubbing her tummy. Go away! Good.

I have about 10 resolutions now, but I am only concentrating on three, flossing, writing, and making two videos. I’ve been terrible at the flossing. And I missed two days of writing. The videos, well, I need some inspiration.

I have a select few women I am secretly considering as possible long term partners. No girlfriend at the moment, I’m not even sexually active right now, but I’m assessing certain women. They are all horribly out of reach right now though, one’s in the hospital and we haven’t even had a date, one’s far far away, and one has had the same boyfriend for years. So even though I think these women are interesting, my chances are actually really slim for settling down with any of them. Which is too bad because all three of them are super cute and smart and seem nice.

Nice is a terrible word for some people. It’s like a diminutive kind of a word that makes them feel less edgy. I like edgy and nice women.

Grapefruit has too much acid for some medications and will make you get too much at once. Interesting, I think. More acidic than stomach acid???

Stomach acid is kind of a weird concept. There is acid, and it is INSIDE US! My mom once babysat a kid who didn’t produce stomach acid and had to drink a cup of acid before he could eat.

Oh man, what kind of life is that?

It gets worse, he was also highly allergic and could only eat beef, barley, and bananas.

Little Mister is doing well, especially since he has no allergies and eats all the blueberries he wants! He’s laying behind my back like a wiener dog lumbar support cushion. He’s actually quite comfy for me to have.

He and Hermione, the other wiener dog, and I, all slept in this morning. Mum did too, and Arthur. Why did we all sleep in? I was listening to the top 20 on the radio since 7:30am and still it took me an hour to wake up. I was 7 minutes late for school and felt badly. I have terrible guilt about lateness. Sometimes I am really bad at it and people notice and get mad. But I’ve been pretty good recently.

I have been working this writing everyday plan for a while and I think it is going well. It definitely jogs my brain and gets me thinking about things. I’d like to add some other new habits to my life. I am thinking of making a mandatory hour once a day of reading a paper book. No ebooks for me, an actual physical book. It would be better on my eyes and open me up for new ideas. And I wouldn’t be sitting at the computer, which is a major plus. I’d like to go get some new library books and start. Except I borrowed a learn German cd from the library and it is stuck in my mom’s computer. And so I keep renewing it, but really I need to get it out of the computer. I’ve tried all kinds of methods of getting the iMac to eject it, but it isn’t even recognizing that there is a disc in it.

The quandry of technology malfunctions. I hate malfunctions. I hate when I malfunction and I hate when computers do it.

But there are other habits I could get.

I have nearly 3 packages of cigarettes left. I would like these to be my last cigarettes for all time. I’m enjoying them during the january thaw, but by the time it plunges to minus 30 for two weeks I don’t want to be freezing outside sucking on cancer sticks! Still! With chapped hands from being exposed to the biting cold. BITING I TELLS YOU! And since my mom’s house is non-smoking there is no more opportunity to smoke at the computer in the warmth leaving ashes all over the desk. 🙁

So I am going to try and mentally prepare this time instead of just one day quitting because I don’t have smokes. I feel like my biggest crush ever would want to kiss me more if I didn’t smoke, and I don’t want to smoke anyway, and she’s never kissed me while I have been a smoker. I dunno, she will probably never kiss me again ANYWAY. But yeah, kissing smokers isn’t as much fun, and as a smoker I am aware. BUT I am not making it a resolution. Because it has been a resolution for three years, and I am not giving it the honour this year. It’s like, 2008’s resolution. So pbbbt!
😛

I am not altering my eating habits this year except to continue eating less fat because of my gallbladder. Last time I weighed myself I was 210, which was 7 pounds more than my last weigh in! BUT I was wearing my purse and threw it off me just before it told me my weight, so I don’t really know, is my purse 7 pounds? It just might be!

Oh, but I did want to start eating breakfast. I always sleep in and miss breakfast.

And my flossing resolution hasn’t been going well. I flossed once. So far this year. I need to do it everyday. It’s right beside my bed, I have just been ignoring it.

I am still wearing the wristband from Aqua Boxercise. We had to do this one thing with a noodle where we floated in the water with our bums pointed down and our legs up with our shins and feet at the top of the water and knees and ankles together and then do like, stomach crunches. It was really difficult, but not as difficult as standing on a pool noodle without our feet on the tile. UGH! I felt like a bad surfer.

I posted it on my facebook but not on here, but Dick Van Dyke was saved by porpoises when he fell asleep on his surfboard and floated out to sea. WTF? And thus it is clear, God loves Dick Van Dyke films. I can’t wait to see that scene recreated in the movie of his life! I hope he has a drug addiction or something he overcame, because otherwise I don’t know if there is enough contemporary interest in his personal life.

Oh hurrah, a google search and I already know Dick Van Dyke had addiction issues!

Man, my hair is crazy today. I should clean after aquafit better!

Anyway, I think that is all I have to write in my blog for today. Now onto other work!

😀

I am trying to think seriously about goals ever since I turned 30. One of my goals is to work out according to the new time guidelines. So tonight, after weeks of planning, I am going to my first ever AQUA BOXERCISE CLASS!!!! With my mother. We used to do Aquacise together and I like being in the water. And Boxercise sounds so Angelina Jolie for some reason. And Angelina Jolie equals Sexy! So therefore Boxercise will make me rippling and taut and have the biceps of a bulldagger and the swagger of a prairie girl!

On a different note, today my mom gave me a VHS copy of Sarah, Plain and Tall. I would have been more excited if it had Colleen Dewhurst in it.

VHS. Wow, there are people who don’t have vhs players anymore. I still do. It’s easier than having to digitize everything. Which I should do.

I watched the episode of Storytellers In Motion I was in. There was one error, they said I was an only child! :O Poor Sky. And poor Elijah whoever he is who is my brother. I don’t think he ever knows I exist. Weird. Really weird.

I have a terrible fear one day my long lost brother will invade my house with neediness and sleep on the couch eating all the Ritz crackers and drinking all the beer and smoking everything and watching Spike TV all the time. I mean, I don’t know what kind of man he is!

I don’t mind people not knowing I have a brother, because he is really hardly on my mind, but people should know I have a Sky sister. She’s in one of my videos!

Anyway, aside from that I thought it was a good episode, I was kind of giggly watching myself. It’s just bizarre to be externalized in that form. I had a good chuckle at some of the earnest faces I was making in the stills during the credits. My mom said I looked like I was tired and needed a nap. Oh noes! Was I tired?

Ha ha, anyway. I am also saying other things in another episode they do where it is a bunch of filmmakers talking about indigenous voice in media. So I saw some of that once.

I have been noticing that I am seeing weird things in only two places, by the front of the house and in the basement. I also notice it often happens on the left hand side of my vision. Sooooo, I am slowly taking note of everything going on with these things to see if it is something outside of myself (ie. meaning I am not crazy or have a detached retina). Although that reminds me, I have to make an eye exam appointment just to be sure.

BUT tonight I am going to Aqua Boxercise, and I am going to start sculpting my blubby body AND have excellent punching abilities!

You know, once I was lifting small hand weights for a while. I wanted that one little muscle at the top of the shoulder that dips down to your bicep. That was all I wanted. I did it for six months before I went manic and then I ended up with this little muscle.

But I did dick all for any other muscles. I could have had a BUNCH of nice muscle definition if I had followed a more comprehensive workout routine.

I think that little muscle is totally flaccid and deflated now. Poor muscle. I can get it back! I will!

I was going to write about setting goals for myself. I am thinking too much in the grand scheme. I have to think about mini goals again. Goals for this week! Some school goals would be good. I have to whip some more writing into shape. Anyway, I keep writing the same thing for goals, buy a house in Saskatoon, get a partner, start a business, make a movie, stop smoking, decide if I am a no good addict, etc etc. I should make it more simple, stuff I can work on today and make progress with. And I have too much stuff to do to print out the MA Workbook and start filling in blanks with personal incriminating information!

I have been thinking about how I haven’t really read business plans. I am thinking maybe it would help if I did. The Business Development Corporation has such a small business plan template compared to the one we are doing. So I don’t know if they are all different.

We have Bailey’s! *evil grin!*

I like being upstairs when I am on the computer, I don’t see weird shit!

I learned the other day that flossing adds 6.4 years to your life! So ha! My first resolution is brilliant! AND today I had breakfast too! Which is good for all kinds of reasons. BUT NOT A RESOLUTION.

Anyway, and this is proof to my readers that I am going to try damned hard to be a more consistent writer. One page a day. Well this isn’t so hard. What am I writing about again?

One long rambly story about life with a mental illness and a career and race and class??? That is a lot to put into one post. I think I will have to break that down.

Life With A Mental Illness:
I have been seeing things out of the corner of my eye. I am not sure what to make of them, they are either white or black and blobby and just kind of flash on and then vanish. And they are NEVER there when I look at them straight on. I could attribute this to ghosts, and be scared and not want to shower naked anymore. Or I could mention it to my psychiatrist and optomologist. I mean, maybe there is a perfectly logical medical explanation. I am not sure. I hate hallucinations, I only ever used to get tactile and auditory hallucinations, which is why visual ones worry me. I don’t really want to see fucked up shit because I have a weird brain. I can deal with disembodied voices that try to give me advice, but seeing gremlins or some whacked shit would freak me out.

And A Career:
My career has been trundling along, not too much new to report, besides me writing my business plan for an editing company. I’m starting to really groove on writing it, and now I just have to go back through it and throw in a few things and adjust some other things so that it is consistent and appealing all at the same time. I also have to get working SERIOUSLY on my Mars script, and I’ve avoided it for a few months. I need to have it done by either March 1st or April 1st depending on if I feel like I want to try in the regular category or the Aboriginal category. Hmm. It’s an Aboriginal video. I might have more fans in that jury.

And Race:
Is the Thirza Half-Red or Half-White?? Today I feel Half-Red!

And Class:
Well I try not to fart in the presence of certain others, but I tend to burp all the time. I just drink a lot of pop! I am embarrassed by some of my body functions. And I hate when toilet paper gets stuck to my lady parts. Especially if I like someone and they take off my undies. But Class? Hmm, I feel like it is tied in with dignity, and sometimes that gets lost in medical situations like a manic episode. It’s hard to be classy when you are unstable. Also it is hard to be classy if you are being treated badly because of your identity.

Your Fit of Pique Bonus Paragraph!!!!!!

Because I like you. I would roll around on the floor exposing my belly if you were here, and I would pounce on you and kiss you and . . . uh, wait, I am writing this to everyone. Something else. I am getting ready to do a progress presentation for my editing business to a panel of 4 people on the 21st! By then I have to have my Business Plan and Financials COMPLETE and have four copies printed! I also have to have a DVD of my editing work to show them, at least three impressive minutes! I haven’t selected which portions of my videos I will edit together, or figured out how I will edit them together. But I should really do that.

Boy, writing this blog entry wasn’t as hard as some other blogs I have written!

I’ve been sooo freakin frackin freeked out with holidaying that I have been neglecting some of my other work. It has been a weird last couple of weekends.

Don’t just think about it, do it do it do it!

So I am writing this in between working on school work. I am hoping one day this stupid blog will start making me some money, but I haven’t figured out who would be willing to advertise. I am kinda crude, and I did put that adult warning on this blog so I wouldn’t have to be a prude.

I am trying to motivate myself this year to have a greater output of writings and other creative work. Including the writing that is not so much whimsical as informational that I am doing for my business plan. All writing is creative, in that word smithy way.

Writing ironically enough makes me want to exercise, because I get some of my awesomest ideas while I am walking around. But it is so freekin cold here! Minus 20! Ugh! But this week we are going to Aqua Boxercise for the first time EVAH! Aqua Boxercise could be my new favorite workout! Punchy yet watery all at once.

I am trying to log into Citrix yet again, and it’s being so freakin’ pokey. Now I am working on some overdue homework doing my competitive strategy. It’s not as complicated as I am making it out to be, but logging in and then getting logged off and crashing and bleh bleh blah. Bloo? Blah. Anyway. My Citrix desktop is all blue and nothing is coming onto it!

I decided to change my resolutions to these three simple tasks:

1. Floss everyday.
2. Write one page everyday.
3. Make two videos this year, or have made one and be editing the other one this time next year.

The whole gym, quitting smoking drinking eating healthy no sugary pop stuff was all too hard. I need to start with small changes I can actually accomplish so I will feel more confident about future tasks.

But I do still want to go to the gym more, especially since I have a leisure card until October!

At the beginning of EVERY year I contemplate ways to better my life. I know what I’m supposed to do, and this is the damn near complete list:

1. Quit smoking . . . anything! No tobacco, no pot, no fun! 🙁
2. Go to the gym three times a week. They say you only need 150 minutes of exercise a week if you are an adult. Children need an hour everyday!
3. Be better at my career as in actually making stuff AND doing the paperwork!
4. Write in Fit of Pique again, on a consistent basis, like the olden times!
5. Write long emails to women I like about things I am thinking about that I think might amuse them. Mostly with the intent of having a meaningful relationship blossom out of it. I don’t really do this anymore? Do I? I do feel gooney writing to some people.
6. Go on a date with someone new. I am not doing myself any favors waiting for women who have no intention of ever leaving their current spouses. Tragic but true!
7. Stop drinking sugary pops. Okay, NO! I love my sweet pop! ALthough I am painfully aware I am courting diabetes, especially with some of the medications I am on.
8. Go to my dual diagnosis group more often. Even if I have only been clean for 12 hours! So they say. They say if you go enough eventually you will stop your self destructive addictive behaviours AND take your meds perfectly too! This leads me to:
9. Take my meds more perfectly. One slip is one too many! I am starting to be more sensitive to missing even one dose of brain chemical adjustments.
and 10. Do more better grooming of my body. Because it’s just more attractive and stuff. Also I will be less likely to get jumped as a mentally ill person trying to move through the world.

On the other hand, I feel like Davis in this Corner Gas version of the above Participaction commercial:

Dear loyal Fit of Pique reader!

I have been happy to feel your ever so silent support as I have dealt with the last year. It all opened with a bang in January when my cousin went off his meds and had a massive medical emergency involving police and blood and blindness and most of the year spent in the provincial hospital up in North Battleford. Where we visited him all that time, taking him for McDonalds and bringing him smokes and clothes. Do not underestimate the need for cigarettes while in an institution like that. It’s a small joy. But they all add up. I know they are unhealthy, as I have been quitting on and off for seven years! Anyway, moving on from that incident, things for my mental health front have been pretty darned good this year, a few momentary slips with sleepless nights and so on, but overall pretty good. I lowered one anti-depressant and went onto another and DIDN’T get depressed!

I did struggle with my own dual diagnosis this past year, like last year. I was either not smoking up at all for weeks or else smoking everyday when I wasn’t working. I really wanted to come to some kind of resolution on the matter, either a medical report detailing how medical marijuana is useful for bipolar disorder, or to say FUCK IT and give up completely and start painting happy little trees in my spare time instead. Or even better, ACTUALLY work on my career as a famous video artist. So what happened in the end was this report came out that said marijuana wasn’t as bad for people with bipolar as it was for people with schizophrenia. Which I have noticed when smoking up with schizophrenic friends. They don’t respond well to it. Even my cousin who had the emergency this year says he doesn’t like it. I think it makes the paranoia worse. So anyway, as you can smell, I didn’t quit for good, but I have opened up to the idea of taking detox vacations from it from time to time. I noticed every time I quit smoking up my dreams would come FLOODING back and blow me away with symbolic imagery that heightened my experience of my life. And so, as you can see, I find that important. Which is why the solution of detox vacations has come up. It’s a start anyway.

I was on EI for half the year and went to Berlin and met amazing people and got stuck in Heathrow for 24 hours and I went to Vancouver and premiered my newest video and saw old timey friends!

I was on welfare for one miserable month but was saved by a CanSask program for Self Employment where I am currently being taught how to write a business plan and run a business. I am starting a video and film editing company and I am also going to try writing a Canada Council grant AGAIN. I didn’t get my Research/Creation grant this year for Mars: The Maiden Voyage, so I have to put together more support material and writey stuff.

My love life had a recurring character this past year but it mellowed back down into a more friendly friend thing and so really there is nothing to report on that front. Oh, but I had at least three major crusholas this year, one old longstanding crushola that I still feel gooney with, a far away crushola, and a friend crushola. Tapwe!

My Grandfather turned 93 this year several days ago and while we were eating cake downstairs at his residence these ladies were talking Cree to him. And he told me, “When they’re speaking and you can’t understand them, just say ‘Ah, tapwe!'” Which means “Ah, it is true!” Naturally you can imagine the kinds of things old Cree women say (I dunno, can you? It’s pretty crude sometimes!) and so me saying “Ah, tapwe!” when they are discussing intimate details of their husbands might not be the best idea. Trust Grandpa to get me into trouble!

Overall 2010 was a good year, I think. For myself, not for my cousin, who is now in a care home here and learning how to live without sight. I never intentionally went off my medication and when I slipped it was never for very long.

I got an alarm clock/music system for my iPod from Mum for Christmas, so I spent an hour scouring through my mp3s making a playlist called “Sex Attack!” so that I can put on appropriate sexy music should I need to set the mood. I have to say, bad music during sex is just awful. It’s like being tortured. Although now that I have mentioned that I bet there are people who get off on being heavily involved in sex and unable to change the music. That’s just not one of my fetishes.

OH I KNOW what happened to me this year!!!! I moved in with my mother! And it was going to be temporary, but now, what with this economic climate and rental prices being so high, I am going to stay until I have enough for a down payment on a house. Sooo, judge away! Actually only in North America is there shame about multigenerational living arrangements. Yes, I live in my mother’s basement. BUT I don’t play World of Warcraft and I pay rent!

So I don’t quite know what is happening in 2011 for me. In a perfect world I will be going back to Berlin, and running my business, and getting my Canada Council grant, and making a video, and being allowed to fall in love with someone. I say “being allowed” but really I mean falling in love and the other person falling in love back. Mutual love!

Tomorrow morning at 7am EST I will be on Bravo! My half hour Storytellers In Motion episode is airing and I am recording it on the DVR and finding out what I said in the first half! I’ve only ever seen the last fifteen minutes!

HAPPY NEW YEAR! I will be spending the evening having quiet drinks and conversation with some laid back people, and then off to bed! Nothing crazy, just good times and hopefully the cab won’t take ten million hours!

I’ve got this TERRIBLE shyness and nervousness around women I really like! I swear to god, I will sit there when I know I am supposed to ask for a kiss and I just won’t ask, my stomach will start doing somersaults and I’ll get sweaty palms and I am sure there should be some kind of medication for it but I haven’t been on one that works yet. I will get back to you when I find out what it is.

I have recently discovered because of a long standing “crush” (though I suspect there is much more to it than that) that I do exactly the same thing writing an email as I do talking to a girl I like. I hyperventilate in type form, too many exclamation marks and too little substance. I end up feeling like an airhead, a bicep butch instead of a brainy butch. I feel like I want to say all these deep and meaningful things and instead I talk about some other trivia about my life which I am sure she doesn’t care about. But then the deep and meaningful things seem too intense to be discussing over email, it seems like I should be talking about them face to face. And until such a time as we do come face to face, I should just hint at meaning. I think. I mean, what do I know? You can’t think very clearly when you are type-hyperventilating!

It can take me four hours to write her a three paragraph email! No lies!

It’s nearly Christmas time, and every Christmas that rolls around when I am single I have all these morose mooney thoughts about what it would be like if I had a partner I could bring home. It gets so damned maudlin torturing myself with imaginary relationships with various women over the years. And the reality of what that Christmas would look like is so different. For one thing all the women wake up and start working in my family all freakin’ day! It’s definitely not a laid back experience, and by the time dinner rolls around everyone (the women, specifically) is stressed out. So who knows, maybe I am imagining going sledding with someone Christmas afternoon but really we’d end up in the closet under the stairs arguing about whose family is more dysfunctional.

Oh man, Christmas time! And I have an intangible present of a thing that this person loves to do (nothing weirdo) and I don’t know how to wrap it. I mean, I would like to put it under the tree, but I didn’t bother with a giftcard solution to this dilemma. I could be total Grade 1 Mother’s Day Gift and draw out a little certificate, hmm. Since the present IS to my mother, and since I am a reasonably decent drawer, maybe I should do that.

I was called my mother’s “Spinster Daughter” today and maybe that is freaking me out a little. I am 32 years old and I have yet to live with a lover or even bring one home for ANY of the 3 main Anglican Holidays. I’ve never even introduced a girlfriend to my Grandma, or Grandpa. My Mum has met some though. She secretly wanted to rabbit punch a couple of them, I know that for a fact! But she has never punched anyone.

I think it’s all the damn Christmas shows that are doing it to me, any reasonable attractive (read straight white folks, according to tv) person my age in all these shows has a partner and 2.5 children, the .5 often being a baby. And they are all learning some deeper grander Christmas message through this hilarious adventure that could spell the end of ALL CHRISTMASES FOREVER if they don’t right this through family love. It’s pretty barfy, and I don’t think I can expect to learn a grander Christmas message this year through having a wacky adventure with my poor osteoporosis suffering Grandmother where we end up in either a VW Bug in the hinterlands or somehow have to go on a rollercoaster. Oh yeah, and Santa helps us along the way.

“Why yes Chris, I have new spinal bones for you in my bag! Ho ho ho!”

My sister on the other hand loves Christmas. She keeps laughing when ever I say “Ho ho hold the payments!” or “Ho ho ho, Green Giant!” Oh, she loves ho ho hoing but she HATES Santa Claus, with a passion! She goes into a terror if she sees him. Today my Mum and I saw Mum’s friend’s baby getting a picture with Santa and she just suddenly squinched up and cried like, well like a baby! Poor baby!

Santa doesn’t scare me, but I do find him highly suspicious.