HELLO GOOD MORNING HOW ARE YOU IT SURE IS A NICE DAY OUT THERE WE SHOULD GO FOR A WALK OR A RUN OR A WALKRUNWALKDANCESKIPCARTWHEEL DO THE HUSTLE DOOT DOOT DOOT DOOT DOOT DOOTDOOT DOOT DOOT

We had a by-donation breakfast at work this morning to raise funds for our adopted family. My contribution – other than the idea – was to dust off my 20-year-old barista skills: I spent the morning making lattes, cappuccinos, and mochas. You never really forget how to do that stuff, which is good because I had to depend on others to taste test: it’s hard to tell if you’re making drinks right if you don’t actually drink coffee.

I only had one jug to steam milk in, and I had four kinds of milk – so inevitably, I would drink the dregs of one so I could start the next. This lead to me drinking around four lattes before 9:30 – I am fucking wired. My hands are pruny, and I may be twitching. Today is going to be interesting!

I sold my iPad last night, and my old 4 earlier this week. The timing really couldn’t have been better, because my new laptop will be here on Monday. I finally confessed to Ed that I had ordered it – he wasn’t surprised. Still, I’m pleased that everything worked out. I met the lady who wanted to buy the iPad last night at the mall, as she wanted an Apple Genius to give it a look over before she bought it. Whatever; if you’re not a technophile you want to make sure you’re not getting scammed. I didn’t mind because it was convenient for me, so we met up and Apple gave the iPad the thumbs up (practically brand new, he sez). I could have left then, but my instincts took over and I spent another 30 minutes or so giving her a training session on cool things you could do with the iPad and how to use the keyboard case. She left happy, I got to be smart, and all was good. Plus, frozen yogurt and a ridiculous hat with an owl on it. As far as Thursday nights go, it was a good one.

I am bouncing in my seat. It’s a good thing I have an hour of training to deliver; it’ll burn off some of my excess energy.

I am wearing a bright red plaid tie to hide my shame. It’s not really working – I have a lot of shame – but my tie is awesome. I should get more ties and wear them everywhere!

i'm on the hiiiiiighwaaaaay to hell

SOOOOOOOOOMETIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMES

That was me yesterday. I cried! That’s actually a good thing; I haven’t cried for true in ages. It sucked while I was crying, and it sucked afterward (I am not an attractive crier), and afterward I had a really bad headache from forcing all that liquid out my eyeballs. The headache and deep aching sadness lasted until I drifted off to sleep; all hurt and wounded like a kicked puppy.

Then I woke up.

I don’t know if I needed a good cry or if yesterday was just the last straw, but I woke up a different person this morning: I went to bed Sad Weepy Hurt Kimli, and woke up Defiant Shit-Disturbing Kimli. I noticed it in the shower when I realized I wasn’t staring at the tiles and willing myself to go down the drain, and the feeling only intensified as I got dressed. I put on my Brave New World outfit for today – it wasn’t a pussy bow, but a fancy-ass turtleneck – and I was disgusted with myself. I ripped the shirt off and put on the last pussy bow; the one I was saving for tomorrow. It was no better than the turtleneck, so it too came off. Finally, I reached for a different shirt – a NORMAL shirt – and got dressed, put on a necklace (I’d gone without jewellery all week because of the pussy bows), and checked the mirror again. OH HI, ME! I’ve missed you!

So yeah, fuck Pussy Bow Week. Fuck being someone else. Fuck trying to fit in. There is nothing wrong with who I am. The work I do is really, really good. I deserve to be recognized for the work I’ve done this past year and the contributions I make to this company. Okay, maybe I should stop believing people when they make promises to me – it always seems to end badly – but I do not deserve to be looked upon as someone’s pet just because they don’t understand what I do.

The news I received at work yesterday both broke me and strengthened my resolve to be myself. I can dance with the best of them .. but while you’re all waltzing, I’m going to be doing a merry jig to the music inside my head.

yeah, bitches.

I had an introductory half-hour therapy session last night, and now I’m totally cured. Hooray!

My first official session is next Friday. I’ll likely go to at least one more session this year if not two – it’s not so much that I think I’m SUPER CRAZY but rather that I have money sitting in my Health Spending Account at work that won’t carry over to next year, and there are only so many pairs of glasses I can wear at once.

My decision to go with the therapist I chose has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it’s next door to delicious frozen yogurt, either.

It was actually quite difficult to find a therapist, but not for the reasons I was expecting. I’m not sure why, but I kind of assumed there would be a test and maybe an essay and a line up where they pick out the cutest of the crazy people to take home to save. Really though, the choice was entirely mine – and made much harder than it needed to be, thanks to my unreasonable list of demands. I went through the entire list of Accredited Counsellors in BC, and rejected a lot of them based on:

• No website
• Ugly website
• Is that Comic Sans? Oh GOD no
• Email addresses ending in yahoo.ca or hotmail.com
• No email addresses at all – I’m not going to CALL you for an appointment; this is the fucking future
• Funny name
• Ugly shirt
• Too much emphasis on babies in your profile
• Location – I’m not going to Surrey; I’ll stay crazy
• Proximity to frozen yogurt

In the end though, I found a few candidates that seemed suitable. I emailed for an appointment, got promptly set up, and here I am all sane and shiny again. At least, I was until a rather disastrous meeting a few minutes ago regarding my unreasonable insistence upon having my contributions to the company I work for acknowledged with actual dollars more fitting to someone of my considerable talents as opposed to a part time dishwasher paid under the table .. but that’s angst for another day.

Vaguely hopefully, but very frustrated. Having to indirectly prove your value just sucks.

i can't wait for this week to be over - i'm running out of pussy bows

Tuesday’s pussy bow is both full of grace and extra ridiculous:

It’s hard to tell in the picture, but the shirt is baby pink with black polka dots. It’s also got a secret – under the bow the buttons are wide open and there are boobs everywhere. Take that, society!

I have my first therapy consultation today. Tonight I will glaze a ham in celebration.

Hey, buy my iPad.

Happy Cyber Monday, everyone! It’s about time there was an international day to celebrate the most awkward of all the erotic arts: cyber sex! Who among us can say they haven’t engaged in a little textual intercourse and rubbed one out while lying to strangers about your physical attributes? Cyber sex is both a rite of passage and coming of age story (no pun intended) all rolled into one, and I for one salute my crusty brethren with a proud and sticky hand. Fap on, brave soldiers, fap on.

It’s Pussy Bow Week ’round these parts, kids. If you don’t know what a Pussy Bow is, I will tell you: it’s a large floppy bow tied at the neck of a blouse or dress. They were popular in the 70s as 1930’s retro and were in vogue earlier this year and last (I am nothing if not behind the times when it comes to fashion). If they sound ridiculous, it’s because they kind of are – all floppy and silly up around your neck, looking like you had leftover material you didn’t want to waste. They’re not anything I’d normally wear: you can’t show off too much cleavage if you’ve got a giant bow wrapped around your neck like you’re the worst present ever – but for some reason, I own multiple items with pussy bows. Items that never get worn because of the no-cleavage thing. I’d be fine with that, but that was then and this is the Brave New World with No Boobs Allowed .. so here I am, Making an Effort:

For this entire work week, I will wear nothing but Pussy Bows. I swear with all the the internet as my witness that for the next five days, no one will see a peep of my juicy melons (unless you are Ed or looking through my windows). I will dress my neck up in a different ridiculous floppy bow every single day and document the results for prosperity and science and also because I spent yesterday cleaning out my drawers and now I’m wearing the stuff I forgot I owned. It’ll be fun and frustrating, which is totally what I need on top of my impending mental breakdown from stress and emergency red text depression.

Today’s pussy bow is red!

every time i typed "pussy bow" it came out as "pussy boy", which is an entirely different thing

We are being good little monkeys and are paying our mortgage on an accelerated bi-weekly plan with the maximum percent of extra allowed. It’s all fine and good, except that I get paid every two weeks and Ed twice a month – so in the months I have an “extra” payday, I don’t really get to enjoy it because there’s an “extra” mortgage payment coming out.

That blows, especially when the extra cheque comes in December – I want to buy presents, not be all responsible and stuff. I find very little joy in being responsible; heaping piles of it in gifting my loved ones – so once a year, I’d like to be able to go “wheeee!” and shop for others with reckless abandon (instead of the rest of the year, when I reckless abandon for myself only). To make this happen, all I’d have to do is change our payment from accelerated bi-weekly to twice monthly – can’t be that difficult, right?

Getting into our mortgage account aside, it’s actually not difficult at all to make that tiny little change. However ..

It’d add another thirty fucking months to our amortization. I don’t pretend to know what the fuck that is, but “amortization” literally means “kill to the death” in Latin .. and having to do it for an extra 30 months just seems like a really bad idea. I thought maybe I’d have to increase our payments a little to make up for the two fewer payments a year, but I can’t DO that because we’re already paying the maximum. Any pleasure I’d get from having two extra non-mortgage-earmarked paydays pales in comparison to the thought of paying the bank for an extra two and half years .. and that sucks. $5000 in spending money < additional $40000 in mortgage paid.

Unless I’m thinking about this all wrong, that is – anyone? Money and numbers are not my thing. I know what the numbers say on paper, but paper assumes I’ll be paying this amount at this rate with this lender for the rest of time and I know that isn’t likely. Leaving everything alone would be the easiest route, but the easiest route is often the least interesting and I am nothing if not petulant and bitchy when I don’t get my way.

Other stupid grown up stuff: I have a consultant with a therapist this coming Tuesday afternoon. I could have gotten in tomorrow, but I’m no so crazy or a danger to myself that I want to skip the Buffy sing along so Tuesday it is. In the meantime, I may turn to HARDCORE DRUGS to force myself to sleep at night – Benedryl will take care of my non-stop allergies AND knock me the fuck out, so it’s win win. My kidneys can take another one for the team; they are strong like bull on account of all that drinking I don’t do.

If you’re poor like me because of goddamn home ownership but want to participate in the Black Friday frenzy like the rest of the world except without having to go outside or trample old people, try these on for size:

Oscura

Universal
Genre: Platform
Price: $0.99 (sale price, 50% off)

I had this app on my Wish List, because the reviews said it was short and I didn’t want to pay full price. It went on sale this week, and I’m really glad I grabbed it – the game is GORGEOUS. Yeah, it’s short, but it’s also really pretty and a lot of fun. I’ve got so many games that it takes more than pigs in hats to hold my attention for any length of time, and this game hit the trifecta of interest: game play, graphics, sound. Worth the buck!

Glowfish

Universal with a separate HD version for $2.99
Genre: Platformish
Price: $0.99 (sale price, 60% off)

Pretty, pretty, pretty. Most of my favourite games involve elevators or zombie removal, but Glowfish is a nice change from all the carnage and demand for inventory control. There’s an HD version of the game available, but I didn’t even notice I was in lowly regular def – they did a really great job of this game. The music is fantastic, the gameplay engaging, and it’s SO DAMN PRETTY!

Chillingham Manor

Universal
Genre: Puzzle
Price: Free! (sale price)

Less pretty, more fun. An interesting puzzle game with a cheesy story line and a guy who desperately wants to be Hershel Layton, Chillingham Manor was a surprise to stumble across. It’s a matching game, but NOT a match-3. It took a round or two to figure out what the fuck, but once I did I was hooked and have already played through it once and started again. If you like puzzle games and guys in top hats, get this app while it’s free.

Hungry Master

Universal
Genre: what the fuck
Price: Free! (possible sale)

This game is weird and Japanese and weird. It made me laugh and restart every time I died (via trampling by marshmallow rhino), and kind of has to be seen to be believed. Special magic explode all indeed. Free, so worth a look and a raised eyebrow.

There. Great deals for you, and you didn’t have to put on pants. You’re welcome.

The entire time we’ve been living in Sparta, the suite below us has been vacant. We looked at it when we were buying, but it was really expensive due to the additional room (the balcony was an office) and it had lousy windows in the second bedroom. I’m happy with our home, but every now and then I get wistful about the balcony/office – we never use ours because it’s loud and dirty and there are undead gnomes everywhere. If it was enclosed, it would have been mine – I don’t have a room of my own in Sparta, and as an only child who hates to share, I yearn for a private area that holds more than one. It’s not like anything I do is a secret, but I want a Kimli room that is completely mine to decorate and hide in as I see fit.

Anyway, this isn’t about my lack of a secret lair – it’s about the downstairs suite. At some point in the last month or so, someone moved into 217. I assume they’re new to the building, and I wish them the best of luck for three reasons:

• The suite has a history of gas leaks (that haven’t reoccurred since the last time we were in danger of explosions, so they may be fine)
• Suite 217 is full of amorous dead things
• The new tenant of 217 is a newborn baby

Settling in to a new home is difficult as it is – I can’t imagine what it must be like when you’re lacking in basic motor skills and the strength to hold your head up. It must be pretty frustrating, which might explain the all wailing we hear in the wee hours of the morning.

I’ve been having a lot of trouble sleeping lately, so I’m usually awake well past midnight tossing and turning. Almost every night for the past two weeks, the baby downstairs has been crying up a mega storm around 1am. It’s not a big deal – the soundproofing in the building is actually quite good (the only reason we can hear Stompy Clomps upstairs is because she replaced all the carpeting with wooden shoes), and if anyone in the room with me is snoring (the cats snore like crazy) or the roads are wet and cars are driving by, I can’t hear anything. However, it’s been quiet enough lately that I CAN hear it, and while I’ve never actually seen or heard anyone else down there, I have to assume there are parents somewhere desperately trying to soothe Angry Baby. After all, if I can hear the shrieking through the floor, it must be terrible and crazy loud for them each night (and that probably sucks).

I’m posting my iPad on Craigslist today. I thought about it some more yesterday, and I’ve decided I want to go back to laptop land. I can’t justify having both, and there really isn’t much that I can do on my iPad that I don’t already do on my iPhone. I really don’t use my iPad as much as I thought I would, and the added functionality of a laptop far outweighs the things I’ll miss. I’ll really, really miss them, though – there are two games in particular that I really love but are iPad only: Corpse Craft and Cannibal Bunnies. And to be perfectly honest, I could live without the bunnies – but Corpse Craft is one of my favourite games (and it’s on sale this week for $1; go get it) and the thought of not having it on my iDevice is for sad making. I even emailed the developer this morning begging for a universal version. Boo for exclusivity I will no longer have (assuming someone buys my iPad)!

So hey, how about that turkey? I wish I had some.

red text is bad, right?

My benefits include access to an online Employee Assistance Program, which I signed up for today. Out of curiosity and refusal to think about PCI compliance for one second longer, I took their self-assessment quiz to see if they agree with my self diagnosis of “depressed, holla” – and judging by the emergency red text that seems to think I am mere seconds from flinging myself out my window and onto the pavement below, we are on the same page.

About the crazy, I mean. Not the flinging. If I flung, I would break my iPhone.

I’m navigating through the maze of the internet to find myself a therapist. If anyone out there has one they think is super awesome and wouldn’t mind sharing contact information with me, please email me – otherwise I’m gonna go with the person who has the best name and specifically mentions they specialize in “EFAP” (which, as far as my exposure to the internet is concerned, means they’re an expert in cyber masturbation).

Baby steps, and all that. Still, I feel good about Doing Something about all of this. The world is woefully short of rainbows and ponies as it is; being trapped outside my own happy silly place is cold and lonely.

not shown: ponies

i am the sum of all my parts

I’ve been quiet lately. It’s unlike me. And it’s because I’m depressed as fuck, and I don’t know what to do about it.

I didn’t post about it because I loathe myself when I’m sad and mopey. I’m annoyed at myself when I’m off kilter. And right now, I’m mad as hell that I let things get this bad before I said anything about it.

Also, I’m blogging about this at all so I don’t accidentally click “purchase” on the MacBook Air I’m eyeballing. Because that would cheer me up, for sure – but to what end?

Don’t get me wrong, I really want a laptop (and incidentally, I’m selling my iPad 2 – email me if you’re interested). I just can’t tell if I want it so bad because I think it’ll fix all my problems, or if because I am tired of the limitations with the iPad.

But I’m stalling again, so I’ll ignore that train of thought for the moment. I am really, really fucking depressed. Like, dangerous levels. Bus tire levels. Thinking maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I just wasn’t here at all levels. This terrifies me – more so because I orchestrated a day at home alone just in case I decided to see how long it would take to draw blood with a butter knife. Yes, I’m mostly embellishing for effect – but I planned it out. Started thinking about who I could give all my stuff to so Ed wouldn’t have to deal with it. I have a lot of stuff; it would take time to divvy it all up .. but then. What then? Where the fuck is this coming from? And how do I make it STOP? I don’t want to be like this. I don’t even want to be inside my own head right now. Things are so, so, so bad inside here – my safe place; the one place I could always retreat to because it was filled with cotton candy and ponies – but it’s all dark and scary and there’s NOTHING. Great heaping fields of terrible, terrible nothing. I would welcome wolves.

I upped my meds once this year, and that caused all new exciting problems. Dialed them back, was fine for a short while. Darkness started creeping in again; so I upped the dose once more. It’s not helping. I don’t know what to do. I miss myself; hate this brittle shell of a Kimli sitting in the dark waiting for a house to fall on her. I miss seeing the good in everything; seeing the fun in every square inch of my existence instead of this oppressive wall of nothing. I’m scared for myself when I can think logically enough to be worried. I don’t know what to do to fix this, so I’m going with angry: I’m mad as hell about being mad as hell, and something has got to change and it has to change NOW before things get fucking stupid.

Where do I go from here?

Help.