Archive for March, 2011

I finally got a chance to mess around with some product today.  There were some folks who wanted pics, but what the hell, here’s the Bishounen? Or at least one thing I can do?

The First Attempt or Version of Bishounen PA!

So, there you go.  Comment at will.  Good, bad, I won’t take offense.

Holy Mother of…well, any screwed up mother, of any screwed up person on the planet! This is insane.  I can only take one more day of it.  Immediately after I wrote my post last night, I said to myself, ‘PA, tomorrow you are starting to look for a new flat!’ And mark my words, if this isn’t sorted by today, I WILL be doing that tomorrow!

I’d get into the “glorious saga,” of all that is happening, but it’s still happening! Suffice it to say, it’s all come down to: “The Almighty Dollar.”

Now, I can appreciate their situation.  Even though they’re as thick as 800 cinder blocks, stacked together with: “The Almighty Adhesive,” Duct Tape (YAY DUCT TAPE!)

Perhaps someone, at some time, said they “could,” cover the rent, but unfortunately, not.  Then, the landlords had been left high and dry, on the hook for it.  That must be truly devastating when you are renting so many other units in your building.  Yet, you managed to get me right into one of them in 30 days.  I can empathize so strongly with your hardships, and pain.  For I am living in poverty, as well–just like you.

My joke is, if you want guaranteed money for rent, the best “income,” in the world, is support from the stoopid guvmunt.  They’ll never fire you.  They’ll never make you redundant because they’re “downsizing.”  If they were to do so, their own employees would have to deal with that!

So, since you won’t take my money, I am so willing to offer, this is for you.  Bloody, stupid twonks.

“Head Like A Hole” by Nine Inch Nails

My prospective(?) landlord seems to be holding off on calling me.  Every time we talk about my new(?) flat, he keeps telling me he’ll call me later and later and later…  When I spoke to him today, he said he’d (and was planning to), call me this evening.  Further, he wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise.  Of course, I didn’t press, wanting to look like a good addition to their property!

Well, in my little corner of the world, it is far past “this evening.”  By the time I finish this post, it will be far, far, far past “this evening.”

Now, what could be going on, here? There are three possible things they would (or could), do regarding my application.  A credit check (my credit history is pristine), call my stoopid guvmunt worker, as they want the money to come directly from them.  My stoopid guvmunt worker is good regarding contact and telephone calls.  And finally, contacting my current landlord as a reference.  I saw my current landlord today, and asked him if he had received a call.  He told me he hadn’t.

So.  If there was a problem or some kind of hold up, why not tell me when I call? Why not explain to me just what the situation is? I don’t have time to piss around.  I have already given my notice and must find a place by May 1st.

Worst case scenario? They’re still fucking showing it, and they’re gonna give it to someone else! Wait a moment.  I’m a bit tired.  According to when I signed off on Twitter to start tossing more crap away, I’ve been going at it for four hours (at time of starting to write this.)  Let’s see if the bloody ad is still up! *whimpers*

Well, well! Despite how spinny you are at the moment, PA, good call! However, not so good a call? The bloody ad is still there.  That may not mean anything, really.  But if I was a “sure thing,” wouldn’t they pull it? Also, “they.”  Two brothers take care of things.  The one I met who showed me the place was really nice (shit, did I fall into THAT trap again?)

As I waited for the ring, I tried to keep myself busy by going through more stuff.  There was a box of papers that I knew was a real jungle.  Or jumble.  Or a jumbled, jungle.  A lot of time needed for that.  The other day, I managed two bags of trash, and one bag of things to donate to a Second Hand store.  My mom and her husband, plus J. were coming over, so no chance for the jumbled jungle! I did that tonight.

Oh, shit.  Good thing I took that Valium earlier.  It wasn’t enough, though.  Grab those tissues, and grab that Gravol! I was freaking out so much, I almost took TWO Gravol pills, and not one! Maybe two would have been a good idea, anyway.  I was feeling pretty nauseous, I’ll tell you!

I really thought it was just a jumbled jungle of a miscellaneous accumulation of paperwork, magazines, old schoolwork.  It was.  However, not only that.  I found some old letters that had been mailed to me from a LONG time ago.  They were from my sister and my friend R.  R. is I guess a “Canadian ex-pat,” who is now teaching in London.  He’s been living there for several years, now.

Perhaps tomorrow I’ll post some excerpts.  I was agog.  Shocked.  Stunned.  And crying when I read some things.  At one point, I just had to stop! I couldn’t take it anymore! It’s amazing how sometimes the past can be so strongly linked to the present.  Just in slightly different ways? Maybe? It felt kind of scary as well as “amazing,” too.  Uh, yeah.

There is nothing more beautiful than someone forgiving you for an unforgivable faux pas.  When apparently, it wasn’t even a faux pas at all.

I’ll be back with my hair done, trying to look pretty, even if it doesn’t matter.  I said I would.  But I didn’t think I could–not until now.

I just got off the phone with my mother.  Yes, the one who I owe great thanks to for at least my Bipolar, and god knows what else.  Ah, I owe her thanks, as well, for being progeny of all the others.  I owe thanks to them as well–for at least my Bipolar and everything else.

My, my! We are getting to be quite the two pals, these days! Nothing like trying to take your own life to bring you closer to your own mentally ill mommy. I know.  That’s not funny, but it’s fact.

The bombshell? Oh, it was nothing much she said, as we shifted the conversation from my groceries.   Did I still need sour cream? What type of Miss Vicki’s Potato Chips would I prefer?

She was sexually abused by her pediatrician when she was a tiny girl.


I was pretty quiet about it on the phone.  I think that might be understandable? I mean, what the fuck do you say to one of your Parental Units that has traumatized the hell out of you, when they tell you of their own trauma?

It’s not so much in the details (which she told me all about), either.  I can handle hearing intimate details from any person regarding what they went through.

But this is all a bit much.  Like Roller Coaster, Twisty-Tangly, Family Traumarama! I can’t really think too much about this at the moment, yet my brain is already in the line up at the amusement park! Oh, yes! I think as soon as she started to tell me, it was already racing all over, trying to recover any shred of my childhood from my near empty databank.

Speaking of brains, there actually is a bit of limited processing power for this information, right now.  I can’t be sure but I think something is happening with the Typical Absence Status Epilepticus and my TBI.  Chicken? Egg?

I seem to be healing along well as far as the TBI goes.  However, there’s a bit of stuff going on.  Some of it looks like the old TBI issues, some of it looks like the TASE, some are the same.  Extended absense seizures messing with a brain that’s not quite healed? I felt fine yesterday.

Chicken.  Egg.

Kind of like all of that trauma up there.

Chicken.  Egg.

I was thinking of writing this post today, but I wasn’t sure how to go about it.  Just “wing it,” (or as we writers call it “free flow?”)  However, some things came up regarding “change” so that gave me impetus.

I got a new haircut yesterday.  I put up a new Twitter avatar today.  Sure, big deal(s), right? Well, maybe a bigger deal was someone responding to an older post on my blog.  Someone else did recently, as well.  I wrote in one comment, I loved coming back to my older posts (at least for one reason), to see if, and how much, I had changed.  Also, it’s just plain, old fun.

This time? I don’t know if you could say it wasn’t fun.  Wistful? I’m also not talking about how I felt in terms of myself and the post’s content, either.  No, I’m talking about how long ago it was written, looking at the commenters, and what they had written, how much was going on with them those few years ago.  So, I guess a bit of “real life,” time snuck in there.

Moving to this new flat (provided I do get it–it’s not confirmed yet!) will be really hard on me in at least one area of change.  Asperger’s! And possibly my ADD to a lesser degree.

Some people on the Spectrum tend not to deal with change very well. *hangs sign over neck with arrow pointing upwards*  Two reasons for this are a strong desire for sameness (i.e. extreme familiarity with all things), and ritualistic (or “ritualistic-like”), behaviour.  Both can vary from person to person.  The ritualistic part can take on many forms and be very extreme.  Just to give you a small example, here’s one of mine:

When I wear a certain watch, every time I put it on, I have to count the remaining holes in the band once it’s around my wrist.  It doesn’t matter if I know it’s on right.  It’s not too loose or too tight.  I cannot wear that watch at all unless I do this.  I’ve even kept people waiting to go out with me when it happens!

“…umm…just a sec’…I’ll be there in a…”  So, imagine something as tiny as that, and blow it up how much larger?! Then, imagine moving to a new flat!

Sure, your possessions are still with you, but they’re not “with you.” They’re all somewhere else! Scattered around! It’s like you’re lost without a map and a compass, stumbling around, trying to find who you used to be! But then it gets even worse.  What about the possessions that aren’t yours?

New stoves, new refrigerators, new bathrooms, new cupboards, new…  It already took you so long to get used to the stuff that was “the other,” before.  Now, you’ve got to deal with THAT all over again.  You have to find your “you” in that completely, foreign land.  And it will be completely foreign!

I remember when I moved to this flat four years ago, I was a total stim-fest, eyes teeming, just as the guys were loading the truck! Ex-partner just tried to calm me, and said I could do all the crying I wanted as soon as I got there.  I pulled it together but that may give you an idea, as well.

I predict the same.  I’ll be one, big, Aspie-Spaz-Out, Disaster! I’m just taking a moment to pause now and look around.  I think I may be one, big, Aspie-Spaz-Out, Disaster prior to moving! I’ll blame that one (un)fair and square on my ADD, and my unbelievable, imbecilic, organizational skills–or lack thereof.

I know change happens.  I can’t stop it.  I’m not some omniscient deity that can simply hold up her hand to motion: “Halt! Go no further! In fact, turn around.  You have tried to make a change.  That is NOT allowed!

Look at the world.  Stupid statement of the day, but we wouldn’t be here if things remained static.  I guess I’d like my life to stay static? Well, that’s kind of stupid, too, I guess.  What would I be? Some sort of living statue in this world? A wee PA made of marble, where I could let everything in my life, merely rest carved in stone? Just like me? I don’t think that’s very realistic–as tempting and desirable as it sounds.

Although, speaking of tempting and desirable, I could become a vampire.  That would afford me a certain degree of omniscience to challenge the “Change Makers.” *wry Aspie grin*

Uh, maybe.  Kinda? We’ve got both a bit of brain stuff and emotional stuff going on at the moment.

It’s not so bad.  I had advance warning again, but I was crossing all fingers and toes.  We’ve gone from almost, spring-like conditions, to how much snow today? It’s not that cold, but I still couldn’t get away from it.  Not completely.  I’m drifting on the waters around Migraine Island right now.  That means some of whatever moodiness could have been part of the prodrome.  But not all of said moodiness.

After the irony of just writing about where the hell my period was, guess what happened??? That means we’re getting a chance to really test drive the increase of my Clobazam/Frisium up to 60mg, for the Typical Absence Status Epilepticus.

Now, what that means is we’ve got some possible overlapping signs and symptoms.  Both from the TASE, and my Migraine.  That makes things a little challenging.  Yet any TASE problems might also explain why on earth I needed Wonder Cane’s brother last night! So far, okay in that area now.

But again, that doesn’t complete the picture of any said moodiness.  No.

This move (or probable move), is going to be…so much.  Just 24hrs after seeing the place, I’ve been working all day on trying to further negotiate things, looking for “backup” in case other things fall through, finding out information I didn’t even know about it re: city ordinances and by-laws.

And that’s just practical stuff.  I won’t even get into how it’s going to affect me personally.  Yet.

*this close to passing out*

I just wrote “Possible Flat?” I guess the first installment of how many? I just wrote it how long ago? An hour or so?

I’m walking around with Wonder Cane’s brother.  I don’t know why.  Tired? No.  I don’t need a cane when I’m tired! I just don’t feel my legs are working right.  All of this isn’t working right–in my head.

My  legs.  My legs.  They feel kind of numb.  Let me check.  Hang on a sec’…  I don’t know.  Kind of weird because I haven’t seized.

I’m buggered.  Seriously.  I’m sitting here listening to Anonymous 4 that doesn’t make me buggered.  THAT is supposed to UN-bugger me.  If you don’t know them, these women are beyond bliss.  Yes, it is not the time to play music at “such an hour” but I don’t give a fuck.

I also don’t give a fuck even more as I’m sitting here smoking in my flat.  Which I never do.  Well, maybe on a couple of occasions like this.

When I’m buggered.  Seriously.  And lonely.

And counting…counting…who your friends are.  Who is there for you.

Well, I grabbed J. tonight.  To help me measure things and size up the place.  He’s a right, royal, pain in the arse but I know I can always rely on him.

Measure, size up, rely.  These words have no meaning when it comes to the people who care.  Those that care for you and the ones that you care for in return.

So then does where that leave you in the end?

Well, it certainly wasn’t like the first one.  With the piss-soaked, stairwells of before.  That dumpster of a place.  And no crack smokers hanging around.  No, they wouldn’t be around.

Around.  A weight around (slight?) I feel of my heart.  It’s not in my beloved neighbourhood.

Shut up you fool! It’s close! Maybe the closest you’ll get! You might (doubtful) be able to cycle down to it, but still.

Fuck off.

Alright.  Enough of the petty logistics.  Am I being petty?

Shut up PA.

It’s good.  Good enough! I don’t have time and I don’t have expense! Everything that I need will fit, I think.

The funniest is that it doesn’t have a kitchen sink! It makes me think of living in uni. and having to do dishes in the bathtub.

Well, there are worse hardships.  Trust me.  However, there are workarounds.  I won’t need to do my dishes in the bathtub.  Just a washbin and such.

So many other people are going through hell in the world.  Like washing your dishes without a sink really matters?

I’m sending in my application tomorrow.

But I’m still sad.

Well, I don’t know if I hate them.  They’re just confusing me again! Wait.  Here’s a hate.

When I was a teenager, I had skin that was perfect.  Not that anyone ever complimented me on it because everyone hated me! Nonetheless, no acne.

Now??? Ugh.  I’m breaking out like a stupid teenager at 41!  It’s driving me mad! And I know it’s hormone related.  How do I know? This has happened at least twice now.  That I remember.

I didn’t get my period this month when I thought I was getting it.  That was a month after I got it before–last month.  I’m still waiting.

Also, I’m not pregnant, either.  I’m gay.  I can’t even remember the last time I had sex, and if I were to do it tomorrow, it sure wouldn’t be with a guy!!!

Now, I’m back to this notion.  Am I peri-menopausal? There are some other things that fit that have happened, as well.  I’m still on the younger side of it all, however.  Maybe I’m peri-peri-menopausal? *rolls eyes and laughs*

Well, if I’m nearing that stage, one good thing about a symptom.  Loss of sex drive.  No problems there! Like I said, if I could do it tomorrow…?

That ain’t gonna happen, though.  Nope.  No way.  Nuh-uh.  Whatev.