Princess Auto was closed when I finally got out there to buy a powered usb hub for my computer. I need it to properly use my new webvideocamera. It works with mom’s computer so I was trying it out there and got on Skype for the first time, only to discover one thing.

Don’t select female on your profile page.

No kidding, I had to shut the damn thing down twice because I kept getting chats from guys who just wanted sex. One guy was really bossy and demanding a photo. Fuck off! I don’t send out photos to people I don’t know just on the off chance I might want to see an erect penis on a fuzzy webcam.

And I didn’t want to see any penises, but they just kept sending chats! Stop it! And then they would get annoyed if I chatted with someone else. And I only got this camera and Skype so I could talk to my friends out east. So far my experiences with Skype have been sad. Too many annoying people.

That’s the funny thing about new technology, people will always apply it to sex somehow. I don’t know why that is. And men will always be rude and uncooth online. I think Emily Post needs to write a book on online manners. Because some people, god! Like all this spam I’ve been getting for hot milf action. I don’t want to sleep with someone just because they have kids.

I think the most uncooth thing is dumping someone via email. It’s so passionless, which is maybe the point. I’ve been dumped twice by email. I’ve never been dumped by text messaging though. That’s something to look forward to.

I once dumped someone on the machine and I got into such trouble because her roommates heard it before she did. Ooops! Never again, and I’d apply that to email too.

Of course getting dumped in public isn’t good either. Maybe the best way to dump someone is on the phone. Then whoever’s getting dumped can have a little cry and then stick their face in the fridge.

Today is Good Friday. We went on a Stations of the Cross walk but left Jesus on his plight to eventually stand in the shivering cold outside the closed library to wait for mum to pick us up. We only made it to two stations.

And they’ll know we are absconding by our walk, by our walk.

My dachshund lamp arrived today. It’s bigger than Mister and it glows greeny. It’s very cute. It’s for nursery’s actually, and it was my 29th birthday present, much belated. Mum has my 30th present picked out, so she says.

Then we went to Mulberry’s for lunch and listened to Gramma and Grampa bicker in the car all the way home.

Deanna Mae is coming to town today, so I’m happy about that. Say hello to my little cousin!

It’s practically spring here, even though it snowed today, and I have forgotten how to turn the radiator down. There, I think I might have turned it down.

Anyway, I wanted to talk about not smoking. It’s day 6 I think. Anyway, I’m doing really good. The patch totally helps out. And I’ve taken up gum chewing again. So when I turn 30 I’ll be smoke free. I’m pretty happy about it. It’s amazing how intense nicotine addiction is.

My clothes smell nice again, and that’s good, and I must be infinitely more kissable now that I don’t have smokers saliva. Bleh!

Tomorrow I’m going to spend the day cleaning my apartment and washing my clothes. Boring I know. But believe me, it will be a significant improvement to my life.

Once when I lived in Vancouver I went to this little laundromat and saw a cockroach run out from an arcade game. I freaked out and always used the laundry across the street since, even when it destroyed some good sheets but putting grease stains on them when they went through a bad dryer.

I watched a friend smoke a whole cigarette in front of me twice and I didn’t even ask for a puff. I was so proud of mself. Yay for beating nicotine! But there’s still a ways I have to go. I’m getting online coaching to quit, so that’s good. But for so many reasons I decided to quit. Me and cigarettes had a history, but it’s over.

Which is how I’m finally thinking about my last relationship. It’s just over. There’s nothing more to be said. And the psychic was right about her. It was going to be a messy breakup.

I’m thinking I have to take my new talkcam back to the store because it doesn’t work. I’m trying to get with the century and use Skype,

Last night I went with my mom to Free Flow Dance’s annual Naughty Bingo. Unfortunately we didn’t win anything, but Cindy Baker won pasties.

I’ve been buying the things I had on my shopping list. The next big purchase is a tattoo, which I’m excited about. I’ve been wanting a new tattoo for ages, and this one is on my right forearm. It’s a dragon the color of a cornsnake, and it reminds me of Christopher because he always wanted a corn snake and his birthday is around Chinese New Year. So we’ll see how it turns out.

I bought a new bra, well, two, half price. I’ve gone down from an E cup to a D cup. As it happened, I bought the one bra my mum was slavering over and she’s been grumpy at me ever since. She’s on her new treadmill right now singing along with Janice Joplin. I like buying bras that are actually fitted for me, they’re nice.

I’ve kept up the tradition of buying terribly lacy bras for myself, because I like the contradiction when I take off my butchy clothes.

What else have I been up to? I’m done work now, which is good, because I’m ready to start work on my project. I want to start filming as soon as possible. I’ve got a camera coming in two weeks.

Mister is at my feet. I found out this week that I got into Co-Op Housing, so that is exciting because I’ll be able to live with my little dog and cat finally. I’m excited about that, I will have a one bedroom apartment, which is good. And I’m going to get cable too!

I move in April 15th.

I’m looking forward to all the things I will be able to do now. I’m done work so my days are free when I’m not working on my project. I’ve ordered my swabs for the Genographic project and soon my Gramma and Grampa will be contributing their dna to the project. That’s pretty cool.

I’m trying to think of other interesting things to blog about. Well, manic depression wise, my meds are working pretty well. I’m not moody at all anymore, pretty even tempered and stable, which is good. I’m happy about that. I actually feel like I’m capable of going to university again, which is something I will apply to next year.

I want to finally shoot my vampire video, that would be good to do. I have fake teeth for myself and everything. I might dress up femme for it.

I’m getting my lip pierced next week, which is exciting, and the new tattoo on the 2nd of April, well before my 30th birthday on the 26th. I love body mods. I used to cruise the BME site all the time, but I’ve never uploaded any pictures. At this point I now have two stretched lobes and an industrial, I used to have a hood piercing but I took it out when the doctor suggested it might have something to do with my chronic yeast infections.

Okay, for two years I had a chronic yeast infection. It was horrible, I tried everything to get rid of it. Boric Acid (at a friend’s suggestion), Garlic (at another friend’s suggestion), monistat, many cartons of monistat. Finally I had to take diflucan for six weeks. Diflucan knocked the shit out of that damn yeast infection.

Anyway, I don’t think the piercing had anything to do with that yeast infection, it was a nice piercing.

I’m also going to be dying my hair back to blue and yellow, my favorite hair colour! It looks like a sunrise when I put it in, because the yellow goes at the front.

To acheive my new hair colour I acquired Lagoon Blue and Electric Sunshine. I will post a picture when I have it in, maybe with my new leather coat on.

I’m trying to quit smoking for the umpeenth time. I’ve tried to quit smoking seriously at least four times. Once when I was in the hospital. They have a program to help people quit smoking, but so many people smoke and it’s so stressful to be in there that it didn’t work very well. The nurses themselves admitted that it was ridiculously hard to quit smoking in the hospital.

The downfall of my last quit was Djarum Black cigarettes, which are more like smoking something out of the spice drawer than cigarettes really. I didn’t consider them seriously full of nicotine enough to worry about getting readdicted, but I was, and by the time I got into the hospital I was toting a carton of DuMaurier. Sad really. And intense, since the carton looks like an extra large package of cigarettes.

Our cigarettes all got stored under the sink in the nurses med office.

But enough about smoking in the psych ward. I had been smoke free for about 6 months or so when I went back to ciggy’s, and despite a few halfhearted attempts, have not really tried to quit until today.

I went out and bought the patch. I was on the patch in the hospital, but all those people going down to the Meewasin Valley Trail to smoke drew me back into tobacco’s cruel plegmy clutches.

Bleh. Smoking is smelly. And I’m really getting freaked out by our Canadian warnings. I mean, I have to look at rotting teeth or a bloody heart or a weird brain everytime I have a smoke. That’s no fun! I haven’t wanted to look at such things since I was a morbid teen.

They’re so dire too, because they’re all in black with white writing.

So I’m quitting, as of today. I am also going to bleach and dye my hair. I’m in a good mood.

In weird news, my mother and I, but mostly my mother, worked on fixing her stupid toilet for two days. A leak had rusted a bolt so much that eventually a hacksaw was procured to cut off the offending bolt.

I was just in the middle of complaining about the hacksaw when after 24hours of trying to get that one bolt off, the thing made a happy clink noise to the floor. Toilets are poopy!

This is a great song to feel maudlin to, God Bless Roxette!

When I was a kid I was addicted to reading books about the paranormal. And as an adult, I’ve had my fair share of paranormal events. Possibly enough to write an entire book on, to be honest. I know being a crazy person, certain one’s get written out pretty much immediately if they’re genuine hallucinations. I can tell the difference, believe it or not.

Not half an hour ago I watched my mum’s ivy plant start moving around for no reason, like something brushed against it. It spooked the shit out of me.

Once I had a roommate who had a poltergeist attached to her. One day she and I were talking and a pink lighter materialized out of nowhere and fell on the floor two feet away from us.

And then there was the infamous UFO sighting.

We saw two of them, and they were each a fair size. Green and kind of whispy, with really bright glowing orbs. That was intense. I mean really, Aliens! What else can I say? It’s insanity out here in Saskatchewan.

When I first got out of the hospital there was a poltergeist in my apartment knocking on the floor and the walls.

And then there was Preston’s house. He had a ghost that knocked on walls. One time I was taking a piss and that fucking ghost knocked on the wall behind me. I didn’t know what to do, because I just kept peeing so I couldn’t run. And chills were running up and down my spine at that thing being so close to me.

I’ve been around it so much. I want it to be over. No more freaking paranormal things to happen. But my psychic told me I was more paranormal than spiritual. Dammit! Why do I have to be crazy AND be as suseptible to spooks and extraterrestrials? Why not one or the other? Now nothing I say is credible, except that all the events described above have other eye witnesses.

I think I should try and be more spiritual. I’m not sure how to start though. Something simple.

I checked my bank account this morning to find it reduced to a piddling minus 4.95. Sad state of affairs! But then I checked it this afternoon to find it PACKED with cash! I’m so excited. Tonight I’m going out to buy myself some nice new sheets. And thus begins The Shopping.

I think this is my favorite PJ Harvey song, I was listening to this CD along the time I went manic, and it reminds me of my desperate desire to throw out a lifesaver to my flailingly crashing in flames romance.

I’ve come to an uneasy truce with my psych meds. By now I know for sure I need them, and five years after my diagnosis of bipolar I have finally been prescribed a med cocktail that works so well I can’t even do mushrooms. I can’t do mushrooms because the drugs are so powerful that I don’t feel any effects at all so I don’t trip. Pot DOES still work though, and for that I am grateful. Because I like pot.

But I’m pretty happy with my med regime now. I take morning and bedtime pills, and it has made me ridiculously stable. I find it really hard to cry though, I shouldn’t say that, now something will happen that will make me cry.

I don’t like the drugs, but they do like me, and they work. So I guess in a grumpy kind of way I feel an affection for them. They’ve pulled me out of yet another psychosis and have kept me stable as heck. I’m not even having sleep problems, like I used to have quite badly. I hate sleep problems.

Tomorrow I go back into work. Twice I’ve been asked on the phones if I’m a robot or tape recorder. We have numerical id’s we sign into the program with, and a friend suggested we answer by saying “Yes, I’m A37.” Doing survey work is not too hard, it’s kind of monotonous but I do take pride in trying to be as polite as possible to the people on the phones. Even if they’re nasty to me I generally say “Thanks for your time.” I only had one really nasty guy once, and he told me twice to go fuck myself. I should have said “I did last night, thanks for reminding me, I’ll attend to that when I get home.

I’m tired of fucking myself. No I’m not. Masturbation is the best release for tension. Did you know there’s a condition called Persistent Genital Arousal Syndrome where people masturbate all the time and there’s no release? Oh man that would suck. And I don’t think I could handle having soggy panties all the time.

When I was really crazy, the only musician who made any sense was Nina Hagen, who I almost met once when my online friend’s mother was hanging out with her in Vancouver. My friend Maureen Bradley met her and interviewed her, lucky duck.

I’ve been dreaming a lot lately that I’m back at Emily Carr in the film department, which no longer exists, now it’s the Integrated Media Department. I miss the film department. I have good memories of spending my hours in the editing suites. Editing was my favorite part of being in film school, and I had hoped to make a career out of it, but so far that hasn’t happened. It’s okay though, what I really want to be is a full time director, and this year I really get to be one.

Being crazy at Emily Carr was barely noticiable, except for the day I came in drugged up on sleeping pills and my ex, Velveeta, said I looked all loggy. Velveeta’s hilarious. I promised I would buy her some fake balls for her bicycle, and I did but I haven’t gotten it together to put them in the mail. At first she thought I meant real balls, and I was going to send her a jar of pickled testicles. I don’t know where she got that idea from.

She was the one who would sign up for twice the allotted time by going in as Maya Deren, sneaky fucker!

I’m looking forward to travelling this year, it’s very exciting.

Sometimes I really think enlightenment happens during psychosis. There’s about a week when suddenly synchronicities start happening, and you notice a pattern to chaos. But then when you try to voice the pattern, all hell breaks loose because I think Chaos doesn’t like people to notice it has a pattern. And then sometimes I think there is real power going on during insanity. One time when I was in the ward a woman who was very psychotic told me I pissed off a tree. This would sound like nonesense unless you knew I nailed something to a tree while I was crazy. And I hadn’t told anybody that. So maybe she wasn’t so crazy. But then she started saying “There’s cracks in God!” Which could be true.

I’m doing okay, and that’s a good thing. Life is working out for me right now.