Apartment Hunting 501

I chose the "501" because I realized today that this is the 5th time that I have had to run around rather madly trying to search for an apartment. And the second time due to a break up.

My life has rather strange re-occurring patterns. Actually, way too many of them but I'll try to limit it to simply apartment hunting for now.

Today was rather stressful and lengthy. I viewed several units and well, really only one of them is probably suitable. I realize that I will never find the *perfect* living space. Really, there is no *perfect* anything in life. However, I must try to still find something decent that will satisfy necessary criteria.

I also must contend with the anxiety (apart from all of the other anxiety I am dealing with) of the "competition" of finding a space (even though it really is a renter's market at the moment.) However there is still a lot of shit out there as I saw today. And I really hate shopping. For anything, especially "big ticket" items. When I do shop, I like to go in, grab what I need and get out as soon as possible.

How many places must I see? And I have limited time. And I am racing back and forth between almost opposite ends of the city...

*sigh*

I think I shall just take the last place I saw today and be done with it. I am still waffling about looking further but I really don't know if I will find anything better. It seems "good enough." I am afraid that if I don't take it and I wait, I may end up getting stuck with something far worse. There are some things I don't really like about it but again, nothing is perfect. Part of me sort of thinks, do I really care that much where I live anyway?

It snowed last night on top of it all as well. I spent far too long out in the cold all day today and now my head is positively clogged, my throat is killing me, I'm shivering uncontrollably and can not get warm. I think I'm getting sick. That figures.

And It Just Continues...

Well, guess who decided to show up two days late? I got an email from my father. Very brief. He told me, Happy Birthday, he loves me and he misses me. Nothing else. WTF? Then contact me you bloody idiot?! Why must it always be up to me--again, why must I always parent my parents! I've done it since I was a child and can not do it any more!

And yes, attached was another PowerPoint presentation although this one was at least a bit less painful to view (well, visually) as it was all van Gogh artwork. However, it was set to the music of Don McLean's "Starry Starry Night."

Now if you haven't heard this song, you can grab a listen or take a peek at the lyrics. Okay, I don't know what the hell could be more triggering to someone who is psych disordered and has issues with their parents, who then receives this from one of them as a "birthday present!?"

And yes, I know it was written about van Gogh but still! It's not exactly cheery!

What on earth!?

I responded rather tersely and with surprise at hearing from him after such a long pause in communication.

This is not how I wished to start my day.

Bloody Birthday Bullshit!

So not a word from my father. No phone call. No email. Not a fucking thing.

Just more deafening silence.

You know, we communicated more when he was on the other side of the country but now that he's moved back to my/our home province--nothing. That was in the fall. Almost five months ago.

I received three mass-addressed emails soon after he arrived (one being some spammy "love everyone around you" *thing* with ridiculous, tacky photographs in PowerPoint--I positively can't stand those--they make my eyes bleed!) The others, simply his contact information.

Otherwise, there has been no personal contact between us. The last time we actually had any sort of personal exchange was last fucking MAY!!!

We have not had a fight, a falling out, anything of the sort. He did not contact me at Christmas, nor did any of his side of the family (other than more mass-addressed, spammy, shit, crap-assed email that I can not stand!)

I can not find any rational, logical explanation for this.

I didn't fucking do anything! FUCK!

Goddamn Prick.

Edit: Perhaps when I'm a little bit calmer I shall post on how I need to "deal" with this.

Warning, Estrogen Filled Post Ahead...

Well, that was a brief hiatus. I swear, this blog is rather reflective of my life right now: confused, chaotic, without direction? I thank everyone for their comments, emails and support of late. Some have said to rest, some have said to keep blogging, some have just "been there" and commented. And people are still out there, frighteningly enough, reading this! I still don't know what to do. So I guess I shall keep living (and blogging--or deciding about it) day by day.

So I woke up with a real clanger of a headache this morning. At first I thought it was a migraine as it hurt that bad and I had good old "shovel neck." Did one of these two guys try and "whack me" while I was trying to sleep?

My period should be here. Any.Minute.Now. But more on that later. It made me wonder...oh dear, could this be some sort of PMS-induced migraine? Oh shit, I hope not. With my wacky noodle, what next, Catamenial Seizures? Good thing, one of the meds I already take (Clobazam/Frisium) seems to be the drug that's just the ticket for that. If you're in the US, try Diamox/Acetazolamide as apparently that has shown some promise in this area and Clobazam isn't FDA approved.

Now my period can be quite the prima donna. Oh, I know she's coming. I have plenty of warning signs alright. But she always keeps the audience (me for the most part) impatiently waiting with no respect at all. But as a longtime subscriber to all of her shows, I can't ever seem to get my money back.

I will sit in the front row, as I always do, surrounded by many other women. Sometimes there are a few gents there as well but they are usually bored to tears or asleep, snoring loudly. Finally, at long last, she takes the stage! Her performance is always terrible, horrendous! I don't understand how she gets such rave reviews the world over! She is called a "gift," a "miracle," "something everyone should be proud and honoured to have bestowed upon them!" I slump down in my seat a bit longer until I can't stand it any more.

I remove myself and waltz out to the box office in the foyer and demand (yet again) my money back for this so-called "performance." I am treated like a lower-class frump for not appreciating the prima donna's beauty and grace and all of her ethereal and natural qualities. I scream at the box office attendant (for I do now feel like a lower class frump as I have become irritable, bloated and in pain ever since the prima donna first set foot on stage.) It's of no use. I can not get my money back. But as I storm out the door, I feel a tap on my shoulder. The ticket agent slaps in my hand my next month's passes to the theatre to enjoy yet again, my prima donna's next appearance.

Well, That Wasn't Altogether Sheer Torture...

I have just returned from visiting Mommie Dearest. Yes, I am sick and twisted but so was my upbringing so I feel I am entitled to that. In fact, sick and twisted humour was the only thing that managed to keep my partner and I (relatively) sane throughout the entire evening. During one private moment, I whipped my Zippo out of my pocket and mocked self-immolation. My partner's a good egg. She even laughed as I quickly dashed to the computer the minute we got home as I signed on to start blogging.

In some fairness to my mother, she was actually more well-behaved than the last time I had seen her. We talked about quite a lot. My mother is a real motormouth and truthfully, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I can become quite engaged and really get going and in some cases probably annoy the hell out of a lot of people? I'm not sure. I'm too animated to tell and my own preoccupation with the subject matter I'm talking about supercedes my social skills.

Anyway, it was still a painful evening--and I don't mean in an emotionally sad way. I mean, rather, exhaustively, frustratingly and maddeningly.

As always, it's good to have a third party to observe. My poor partner, subjected to all of this. She's pretty astute at picking up social behaviours and just sitting back and watching people interact, tuning in to what might be motivating factors. And she knows key details of the family history etc... When we went outside for a smoke after dinner, we were trying to find out if I was being "antagonistic," "combative" or downright "looking for a fight." We finally decided that it was "none of the above."

My therapist says that I am "learning to find my voice." I have sat passive and mute for basically my entire life (up until now?) I am learning to "use my voice" but it's difficult. At times I still revert to wanting to just sit there and take it (or tune out) but not tonight.

For example, my mother is obsessed with The Blood Type Diet. No, I will not link to it as it is junk science and I fucking hate it. I'm sorry if you are reading this and you are a follower of this type of "thing" but I completely disagree with it. Anyway, Mom wanted to be a nurse so I feel I can slip into "amateur medico-scientist" mode and we had at it. She's actually extremely smart in a somewhat mentally ill, demented sort of way. Granted, she let me have my say and it was basically me just countering everything she said but it wasn't only that issue. There were more. Lots of them. A couple of times she slipped into one of her more "dissociative" states. She does not have DID and I don't mean a dissociative state or fugue in the classical sense. It's merely a diversion technique that she uses when she doesn't want to talk or deal with something anymore. It's very challenging to deal with. It's also very sad and possibly(?) the result of her own trauma but I can't focus on that. I've parented her ever since I was a child and if I slip back into that mode of thinking I'm doomed for sure.

Next, her husband. He is so absolutely annoying. I guess the worst of it is his continual sexual innuendo and commentary. Now I do not have virgin ears (or any other part of my body ha!) and I can talk just as trashy (or worse!) as the next person but I know where to do it, when and with whom. Unless I make a really bad unintentional pun or lose my filter by accident but that's just a bad joke/gaffe. And it's unintentional! I find it completely abhorrent that this man who is married to my mother (do I need to repeat that?!) at his age would continue to keep saying such things! I mean, I am the furthest thing from a prude but she's my fucking mother and I am her fucking daughter. Show some sense of decency and decorum.

Anyway, I am now in possession of my "bank draft," we celebrated Christmas (a month late?) and now it's over...at least until the next time.

My Neurologist Is So Headache Inducing, He Gave Me A Migraine!

I know, it sounds like a bad punch line/one-liner but I went to see my neurologist yesterday and it was just maddening. I don't expect every doctor I have to commit my entire history to memory--I know that's impossible--but this guy doesn't even know who I am! Every time I walk into his office, it's like I'm a new patient! Is it too much to also ask that neurologists out there not have egos the size of their office buildings and personalities the size of the pen point of which they use to write the notes which they obviously don't bother to read? He said some other things that were inaccurate and actually kind of inappropriate but I didn't have the energy to get into it with him. Everything is "under control" so let's just have our 10 minute consult and be done with it, okay?

My head began to hurt the minute I left his office. I went home and it stopped. But then later in the evening, I started to get my regular aura: light sensitivity, nausea and irritability. And my head had started to hurt again. I had taken some ibuprophen a few hours prior but it hadn't worked.

Time to reach for the abortive? In my case, Maxalt/Rizatriptan. The only problem is, it doesn't seem to play well with my current sleepy med, Imovane/Zopliclone. For some reason, I just get the worst sleep ever when I take the two in conjunction! Of course I mentioned this to my neurologist yesterday and he didn't even bother to acknowledge it. I just told him that I also pop an anti-nauseant which is good for the aura symptoms and it also helps with the sleep.

But last night, I still slept like crap, and when I woke up today, I was still feeling very nauseous and dizzy. I have the typical feeling that someone has hit me with a shovel across my neck and shoulders...that's normal after I have a migraine (or don't as for me, the abortives work well and usually catch things before they become full blown.)

I'm still a bit puzzled as to why I still feel so nauseous and dizzy today though. I've been trying to get some more sleep but haven't really been successful. I'm not hungry but that's "normal" for me anyway. I don't feel "sick" in any other way.

Who knows? I'm sure he didn't give me a migraine but it's awfully fun and funny to blame it on him. And awfully ironic that I got one immediately after seeing him.

This Is Why I Sometimes Don't Like To Socialize...

So last night I bid adieu to my Canadian expat friend before he heads "home" to London, England. Our party was "hi-jacked" by a mutual acqauintance who brought along someone I had never met. My friend and another friend of ours had met up earlier for a few drinks before dinner and a couple of more people showed up after work. It was an odd sort of coming and going with peoples' different schedules. I stayed out longer than I wanted and drank too much.

Anyway, during what I assumed would be a civilized dinner in a restaurant, a bit of hell broke loose.

We were talking about something trivial, music of our younger days, something to do with DJs and dance music and I had a rather strange tale about meeting a local DJ who still continues to broadcast a weekly show that we all grew up with. So I launched into my rather zany tale (it was a story that was fuelled by hypomania years ago) but I kept being interrupted by the server, by other people talking and laughing so I had to keep repeating myself, starting over. Something that well, just happens with a rather long story with someone who has ADD who has been drinking.

Well, doesn't this woman, who I have never met before, launch a complete verbal assault all over me about how something must be wrong with all of us because we have no lives, are we all a bunch of "club kids" and do I still "do this?!" I calmly explain to her (had she even been listening) that this was something that happened years ago and that I was bipolar so no, I would not do this now but I did it then...

She cut me off and said that my story had no point and that I was just rambling on and kept repeating myself and...and...

So, I turned and asked her if I was boring her. She said no, that I wasn't but I just had no point.

Well, that's interesting because I never got to finish before I was so rudely interrupted. I told her that I would just save her the time of listening just in case I was boring her and end my story now. I quietly went back to eating my dinner and did not say another word.

Everyone was a little mortified and rather shocked. I have not been yelled at or bullied in such a manner since I was a teenager or younger. On my planet, you listen politely even if someone is boring the shit out of you, you don't scream and berate or insult them. Or even if you do, if they call you on it, ask you if you are bored to tears then at least have the guts to answer honestly.

I'm still angry and hurt and feeling the after effects of the alcohol so life is not good at all in PA Land today.

My friend who is flying out tomorrow called to apologize today. That was sweet but it's not his fault. I said to him that the old PA might have just let the person run roughshod all over her but the new PA won't be treated like that anymore.

If life gives you lemons, throw them back at the fucker who gave them to you in the first place. Hard.

I still just want to burst into tears right now though.

PA, Signing Off...

...for now. Like you give a rat's ass. I swear, I've fucking had it with Blogger, computers, whatever the hell is causing all the damn problems. I know, rant, rant and rant some more! Maybe it will make me feel better? Maybe PA is starting to lose it?

I think I need to have some food and lay down for a bit. Or something. We've got a big night ahead and I'm still trying to do stuff around the house. Not that people are coming over--we're going out--but everything still needs to get done around here (because we are going out so much and there's just not enough time.

I'm not feeling social.

Vacationing During the Holidaze

If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm a little cranky. This is the second day of my vacation and I've been going non-stop from first thing in the morning until into the evening. I mean, I've been busier on vacation than I normally am when I'm working.

That's nuts.

Why Do People Yell At Their Pets?

So I was walking home from a nearby radiology lab this morning after getting my tummy x-rayed. This woman was walking two Basset Hounds and she was positively screaming at one of them for admittedly, nothing that I could see the poor pup doing wrong. Lady, if you yelled at me like that, I wouldn't listen to you either.

Now, I'll admit that Bassets aren't the smartest set of the canine species. We had one growing up and even though she was an absolute doll, she was dumb. But for goodness sake, don't yell at your pets!

Granted, I've yelled at mine to try and teach them. To get them to stop doing something that they're not supposed to be doing but I don't absolutely shriek like a possessed demon! I do it to get their attention. But just yelling and screaming in an abusive manner? That drives me crazy. And I always follow it up with a little "chat" about behaviour and what's acceptable and what's not. Animals are smart and you do need to train them but yelling uncontrollably (and hitting--DO NOT get me started...) is terrorizing the furry one who should be your best friend.