change

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Today’s question: Can people change?

I want to believe that people can change, but the cynic in me thinks it happens in one of two ways:

  • Pure lip service
  • A true change, but one that happens too late to really count

I keep thinking about Leelah Alcorn, and specifically, her family. One day, her parents are going to realize they drove their daughter to suicide. On their death beds, will they regret their actions and words? Will they repent – change – and wish they had accepted Leelah as she was? When Leelah’s brothers and sisters grow up and get out into the world, will they realize what they lost? Will it make them turn against their parents? Has it already started?

What a lot of people consider “change” is really just growth. I don’t think I’ve changed over the last 20 years. I’ve grown, definitely – my experiences have shaped the person I am today. Fundamentally though, I haven’t changed. The parts that make me who I am – both physical and psychological – are the same as it ever was. Yes, everything I do today is flavoured by my yesterday, but I don’t think I’ve really changed.

True change is possible, but it takes a special sort of person to see past their conditioning and actively embrace change. Those that need it most are often the last to catch up, if ever. Then again, maybe change and growth are more similar than I give them credit for. My only true point of reference is my own life, which isn’t a terribly broad sample size.

five sails

five sails

mission

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Happy New Year! I hope your holidays were full of fun and glitter, as all things should be. I’m not really looking forward to returning to the Real World on Monday, but we’ll never get to the glory of spring and summer and fall if we don’t suffer through the glory of winter (sorry, but the weather here has been nothing short of spectacular).

I’m hoping to get to my usual End of the Year posts in the next week – my annual “how much did I spent on iTunes apps” tally, and the big round up of all the things that did or didn’t happen this year. They’re a pain in the ass and a ton of work, but .. well, tradition. So I have to do it, because tradition. Don’t question these things.

Another year-end tradition: a review of my 2014 goals, and setting some for the upcoming year. I didn’t have all that many, on account of a terrible mood when trying to recap – but here they are:

  • Travel: I’m going to London. In June. This is a no longer up for debate – I’ll go by myself if I have to, but in June I’ll be 8 hours in the future and my Instagram feed will be delightful.

I did this! And it was as delightful as advertised! I don’t know if you guys know this, but I LOVE LONDON.

  • Riding: I am going to get my Class 6 license this year. If all goes according to plan, I’ll have it before summer, and then I will spend all non-London time on two wheels, going both near and far (hopefully far).

I did this, too! It was hilarious and difficult and not without many bruises and a killer cold, but I emerged with a full Class 6 license to riiiiiiide.

  • Kittens: I’m getting a kitten. I want a kitten RIGHT NOW (it will do wonders for this black mood I’m in), but I see the logic in waiting until After London. 

I did in fact manage to hold off the kitten lust until after our London trip, and on August 3rd we brought home Piccadilly Circus who is presently curled up against my leg and happy as several hairy clams. She is awesome, and I adore her.

  • Since I’ve conquered the world of promotions, I sure would love to conquer the world of getting a raise.

I either set really easy goals, or I knocked 2014 out of the park – I did this, too. I finally got a raise to go with the aforementioned promotion, and then I got a new job that came with an additional raise. All these raises and new jobs are adorable little peanuts compared to what Ed did this year work-wise, but that’s his story to tell – I’m just an innocent bystander who reaps the benefits.

So, what do I want to get out of 2015? I’m not really sure yet! Let me sleep on it, because if I try to write the list now, it’ll come out sort of like this: London London London London London London London London London London London London London London London London London London London London London etc.

Oh! One other thing. I bought this book last week, which has 365 questions in it. I’ve missed writing daily, so .. I’m gonna try to answer the questions. Here. Not on paper. What is this, 1824?

Fittingly, the question for January 1st is What is your mission?

I don’t so much have a mission statement as I do a bunch of bullet points:

  • Do no harm
  • Be kind
  • Always be happy – and if I’m not happy, actively work towards it
  • Never go A2M
  • Find my purpose

That’s a good start, I think.

Happy 2015, y’all.

a warm glowing warming glow

for the hoard

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I hoard food. This is a particularly bad habit held over from my formative years, when my mother would berate me for eating too much and then, in practically the same breath, berate me for wasting food. She would try to hide food from me, so I started keeping a hidden supply for myself, like a good fat girl. To this day, I still keep secret stashes all over the place, so I can have a treat when the urge strikes me. It’s a good system.

.. except it’s a totally lousy system, because my brain is all kinds of broken. If I don’t have any treats handy, all I want is junk food all day long. If there ARE snacky things available, I don’t crave them. As stupid as that is, it works quite well most of the time – I provide treats for others, since they’re there I don’t want to eat them, and everyone is happy.

This doesn’t work well with my super secret stash, though. During our last trip to London, I squirrelled away Marks and Spencer Millionaire Shortbread Bars and brought home probably close to 20 of the gooey, delicious, chocolate-and-caramel-over-shortbread treats. I love them madly, and eat way too many of them when I’m in the UK. I’ve smuggled the bars home from Europe before, but either played fast and loose with the clearly-visible expiry date on the packages, or, as is far more likely, ate them all up before they could go bad. This time I either assumed I could continue the pace of eating multiple sweets a day without dying, or .. I don’t know what I thought, or why I wasn’t smart enough to freeze the damn things, but my ridiculous treat hoarding has bitten me in the ass: the bars are way, way past the (July) expiry dates. I tried one a couple months ago, and it was .. not good. So today I get to throw out almost half my secret stash, because I was too stubborn/dumb/forgetful/not insane enough/dumb to eat them all while they were still good. Now I have no treats, and I’m sad. Clearly I should just book another trip to London. And maybe this time think about using the time-stopping powers of the freezer to extend the shelf life of my delicious secret yummy happy snacks.

file under “good to know”

Posted in medical anomaly by

So about that penicillin allergy .. yeah, I’m still totally allergic to penicillin.

Also, stupid. I’m very stupid. Can’t forget that.

Timeline: I was prescribed Amoxicillin for my strep throat. It worked wonders on me, and I was feeling better a few days into the medication. I finished up the meds I was given (albeit a little slower than recommended – I am not good at medicine) and continued about my merry way, until the strep came back a week or so later. This time, I was prescribed straight-up penicillin to flush it out of my system; a heavy dosage meant to kick germs to the curb as soon as possible.

During this time, I dealt with the other crap the end of 2014 had decided to dole out to me: a cough that wouldn’t go away, waking up every morning at 4am to bolt to the bathroom and noisily throw up nothing at all (or my favourite, nothing at all but bile and chunks of phlegm), chest rattling so loud it kept me awake every night until around 3am, at which point I’d get an hour of sleep before the barfing started, and a mysterious itch along both forearms that could not be soothed. I’ve managed to get all of these issues under control, save for the last one: I’m itchy all the goddamn time, and nothing helps.

I assumed it was just my annual winter skin freakout, so I went about treating my forearms in the usual ways: moisturizing to combat dry skin, antihistamines to control the itch, even more antihistamines to knock me out at night so I don’t scratch in my sleep, swearing, etc. Nothing helped. It wasn’t until last night at Friendmas during a conversation with my favourite Yunn that two and two were put together: the itching I’m experiencing is probably a reaction to the penicillin, to which I was allergic to once upon a time*.

OH. 

Suddenly, everything made sense. Some quick Googling has shown that I am most likely experiencing a common side effect to the various forms of penicillin I’ve been ingesting, which is a horrible non-stop itch with no accompanying rash (thank dog) that starts several days after you stop taking the medication. Everything lines up perfectly, although I’m highly concerned about what comes next: this itching started after the Amoxicillin, but before the penicillin. I’ve already dug a hole in my arm from all the scratching, and both arms are covered in bruises and tiny scabs. In short, I’m a hot mess. A busty, itchy, hot mess.

I’m thrilled that the strep throat seems to be under control, but I would love for this itching to stop. I look like a junkie, with the clear discomfort and constant scratching and nervous twitching (which is only because I have not yet had any caffeine today).

*: A long, long time ago, it was written into my file that I’m allergic to penicillin. I assume this was from when I was a baby, and when my tail was removed. However, I’d never experienced the allergy – I just went by a decades-old note in a file somewhere. I asked about it once, and was told that “these things go away” so I was probably fine to take penicillin if I needed it. Strep throat seemed like a really good reason to need it, so I just went with the flow .. only to find out that no, I’m still pretty (mildly) allergic to it. I got lucky this time.

*scratch*

argh

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Last night, Ed and I decided that going to the largest mall in BC one week before Christmas would be a good idea.

Truthfully, the mall trip itself was uneventful. Everyone has either completed their Christmas shopping or are waiting for the weekend for the last mad dash for unnecessary crap, because getting there was a breeze. We found a parking spot right next to an entry, and I didn’t have to elbow anyone out of my way for the crimes of barging into my bubble. I’ve had more traumatic mall trips on a rainy Sunday, so this was actually kind of pleasant. We managed to get everything we needed (plus a few ridiculous extras) and got out without murdering anyone. A total win!

So why, then, did my holiday stress levels go from -5 to 617 in the Apple Store?

My mother called.

I don’t know how or why or what the fuck, but my mother invited herself over after Christmas. My mother hates travelling, and has never once volunteered to come to the mainland – she’s been to Vancouver three times in the ten years we’ve lived here, and each of the previous times was at my insistence out of sheer holiday guilt. Ed and I were not planning on having a guest – in fact, we were hoping for a nice quiet Christmas full of alcohol and post-antibiotic boning. What on earth are we going to do with my mother for two days? She’s picky, doesn’t like doing anything, and then there’s that whole “instantly revert to a petulant 14-year-old” thing.

I now have an anxiety-inducing list of things I need to accomplish no later than Tuesday, including:

  • Clean the entire house
  • Deal with the massive pile of recycling threatening to take over the kitchen
  • Plan meals suitable for my mother
  • Buy the ripe bananas my mother asked for three times during the “I’m coming over” phone call
  • Do groceries at four places to cover everything I need for the week
  • Somehow find time to make things for two different potluck events
  • Scrub my bathtub – it’s kind of gross, but I wasn’t really expecting anyone to call me on it in a passive aggressive way
  • Figure out what the fuck to do with someone who DOESN’T LIKE ANYTHING EVER
  • Curl up into ball
  • Cry
  • Clean my office so it’s suitable to house a body
  • Hide the gay porn .. you know what? Fuck it. The gay porn stays out.

This could all easily be done by Tuesday, but I have actual Social Things planned for tonight, Sunday, and Monday night. That leaves .. tomorrow? Because I absolutely wanted to spend my Saturday neurotically washing all the vertical blinds because my mother is sure to notice and comment on them. ARGH. This whole thing is giving me ass marbles just thinking about it. Normally I’d have had several months to prepare for this visit, but I learned about it less than 12 hours ago and I am having significant trouble coping with the inevitability. I don’t WANNA clean the house! I don’t WANNA go shopping for all the groceries including Costco the last Saturday before Christmas! I don’t WANNA have to wear clothes around the house and make polite conversation! LIFE SUCKS WHY WAS I EVEN BORN

I needed to get that out of my system. I’m better now, I promise. And I guess it’s time to get to work.

i hate you bed

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The strep came back, the very next day week. The strep came back, I thought it was a goner! The strep came back, it just couldn’t stay awaaaaaay.

Yeah so my strep throat is back. I am not at all happy about this. It’s not as bad as the first time – the lumpy sore times appears to be isolated on the right side and it doesn’t quite feel like death needles in my food tube, but still. Kind of pissed. I’d never had any kind of strep throat (that I can recall) until last week, so this is all new and terrible and I hate it. I was supposed to be healthy all December, remember? That was the deal.

So, more bed rest. More antibiotics – penicillin, this time. This is going to be interesting, because once upon a time many years ago I was allergic to penicillin. Am I still? No one knows! It’s all so exciting and fun to behold! Sarcastic exclamation points!

SO GRUMPY.

safety eventually

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Are you often outside after dark? Do you like not being hit by cars? Are you as fabulous as you possibly could be at this very second?

After 18 people were hit by cars within 48 hours last week, I thought about what I could do to be more visible at night. I’m short, often wear black, and while I am far too Canadian to jaywalk, drivers here are notoriously terrible at acknowledging pedestrians, bicycles, other vehicles, what’s going on around them, etc. I can watch out for myself all I want, but when the majority of those 18 people were hit at crosswalks where they had the right of way .. well, I wanted to do more.

Enter being fabulous! At Superstore this past weekend, I bought several strings of battery operated LED lights for $5 each. I keep them in my bag, and if I have to go outside after dark, I’ll wrap one around my bag or neck or head and turn it on. I’m more visible, I look awesome, and I can add more or different lights depending on just how fabulous I want to be. I have some colour LED lights I’ve been saving for the holiday season, but I might just break them out tonight so I can be safe and ridiculous at the same time.

I know that drivers are really the ones responsible for paying attention and not running people the fuck over, but this is a cheap, fun way to be a little bit safer when outside after dark. As an added bonus, you’re like a walking party!

You can get battery operated lights from many places – I’ve had them in years past, and purchased them from places like Ikea, Real Canadian Superstore, London Drugs, etc. They have them at Walmart, if you’re into that sort of thing. The coloured LEDs were more expensive ($17/string) because they’re actually meant for bicycles and are built differently, but the cheap ones run $3-$5, have on/off switches, last for ages on AA batteries, and don’t take up much room at all:

so safe!

so safe!

You don’t look crazy AT ALL when wearing them, either:

not crazy!

So, yeah. Be safe, everyone!

lesbian book drive

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One of the things I’ve done while sick with a stunning variety of diseases was cull the books on our shelves. This was a timely thing to do, as there was a charity book drive at work – so instead of taking the books to a donation bin, I hauled them into the office for other people to pick through.

At least, I took most of them into the office. The following is a list of titles I didn’t think proper to unleash on my coworkers:

  • The Whole Lesbian Sex Book
  • Best Lesbian Erotica 2000/2001
  • Penis Pokey
  • Glossary of Insurance Terms
  • The Ultimate Guide to Cunnilingus
  • Hot + Bothered 4
  • Taboo: Forbidden Fantasies for Couples
  • Net.Sex
  • The Ethical Slut
  • The Witches’ Bible
  • Best Women’s Erotica
  • The Trainer’s Handbook
  • Best American Erotica 1997
  • The Big Penis Book (just kidding, I’d never donate that because it’s awesome)

So if you want to see what erotica was like before the internet was an essential service, want to have sex like a lesbian, or need to know insurance terminology, hit me up.

Also, I dragged myself to a walk-in clinic last night after a day and a half of not being able to swallow or talk (I gave a presentation at work that consisted of me typing things into Powerpoint while mutely waving at people from the stage) and also looking down my throat and seeing huge gross white splotches where there ought not be any splotches at all. Diagnosis: strep throat. I have antibiotics, a recommendation not to go a-boning, permission to abuse the Advil, and orders not to work for the rest of the week (which I am ignoring, and working from home while dressed as a sheep). I still can’t swallow, but my fever is down, so I consider it a win. I do miss food, though. And wearing clothes. Is November over yet?

enough

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FUCK. THIS. SHIT.

I have been sick for the ENTIRE FUCKING MONTH of November, and I am PISSED OFF. I don’t really get sick-sick often – a migraine here, a kidney infection there – so to be utter laid out with the flu, and then a cold, and then a coldflu, and now this fucking ridiculous fiery baseball in my throat .. it’s too much. I hate you, November. You are just THE WORST.

It’d be bad enough if it was just me with this various diseases, but Ed’s sick too. I think we’re feeding off each other – as soon as one of us starts to feel better, the other releases additional germs into the air and we keep infecting ourselves with convoluted new strains of gross like an Abbott and Costello bit gone horribly wrong.

I’m so tired of feeling like shit. I’m tired of thinking I’m better, going into work, then having to work from home for the next three days because something new and awful is going on inside my lungs. I miss outside. I miss my friends. I know these are petty complaints compared with what’s happening in the world around me, but I’m just so over everything happening in my own little outbreak bubble.

Also, I am tired of Confluence. It’s like an ugly Sharepoint.