January 09 2014 in Mental Masturbation in Montréal: Confessions from the Boulevard

Balance:

I don’t haz it.

Idea:

For every negative thought, counter that shit with a positive thought. In Al-anonese, that roughly translates to: “Start with an asset!” But that NEVER happens, she said negatively. No matter! Onward ho, bitches.

Next:

Try really hard to actually remember this shit even though my mind has already launched itself - without consent, nor conscious decision, goddammit! - into overdrive-warp Default aka: All Aboard the Hot Mess Express. Now, with 100% MORE MENOPAUSE SYMPTOMS!

Pause and then:

• drink a whole litre of filtered water… gotta stay hydrated, y’all!
• try to take three-deep-breaths-in-a-row without getting distracted.
• fail.
• OMG! TURN IT UP!!! I FUCKIN’ LOVE THIS SONG!!!
• bust a few impromptu moves.
• actually remember to do the neg/pos thing…

roight, roight… where was I?

Begin (Al-anonese: Start anywhere! Just start!):

… … ……….

neg:

I felt shitty today, so that means I’m a shitty person with a shitty life who deserves it. Shithead.

pos:

I just watched An Idiot Abroad and he traveled to India. It’s one big slum in some areas. Talk about a shitty life! Literally, in some cases. Well. I’m white and I was born in Canada. There’s some random shit to think about, right there - also, life is NOT BAD AT ALL, suddenly.

neg:

This is an old’n’crappy apartment that’s not the greatest location for me. It’s far away from what I need, it’s noisy (six lanes of traffic, next to an international flightpath - plus, my neighbour has two LUNGING SOLID MUSCLE DOGS, so cute!) and it’s cold’n’drafty when it’s… oh, I dunno… MINUS-FUCKIN’-40C windchill, jesusCHRIST.

pos:

IT’S NOT THE SHIT-HOLE TOWN THAT WAS (literally) KILLING MY WILL TO LIVE! Not once have I said to myself: “Oh, I rilly-rilly-rilly miss Hicksville!” Not.one.time. I miss Peter and Drew and John and Karri and Pat and David and Tabby and Little Lake and the beach and my big-old-kitchen, and my Rowdy Older Broads Al-anon coven but that’s it. Everything else can suck my left one. So! I’ve started calling this place “For now.” which is kinda cool because it leaves the door open on this idea: Living in this particular apartment is a stop-along-the-way. Everything is temporary. Nothing is static - NOTHING - even if feels like it is. Particle-physics! Look it up, bitchez! And: I love to watch the traffic, here! The drivers are 100%.COMPLETELY.IN.SANE. Then, watch what happens when it dumps three feet of snow all over everything! And the planes are incredible. OMG! Unimaginable feats of physics - right in front of my totally-boggled eyes. I’m beside this path so it’s a free show! And the airport is to the west, so all these giant, international planes are landing directly into some of the most consistently gorgeous sunsets I’ve ever seen. Ever. It’s quite a view, I must say. And two solid unchanging facts of my life: dogs and winter are things I could happily and forever live without but, whaddayagonnado, right?

neg:

Peter has driven me mad and I hate him and he needs to be punished with manipulation and craftiness and cheap-shots and a fucked-up cruelty he would never-ever-ever inflict on me. Everything is his fault, after all. ALL of it, said the victim.

pos:

Peter’s no saint, yo (::atheist giggling::)... lemme tellya. But, he really has been a saint. Patience of goddamned JOB, for starters. I have been unhinged since before kindergarten. Nature/nurture/who-gives-a-shit-anymore? He’s been reasonable and way-more-steady than me for the whole of our relationship. Disposition/denial/who-gives-a-shit-anymore? He’s been an oftentimes stabilizing force for me. He’s been a constant. Unhinged-me thinks everything is shit and painful and terrifying and everything has been bad/negative/fucked-up.
SO FUN! Peter says to me, very gently: “Suzy… everything’s not shit, honey. It’s okay. I know you can’t really hear me when you’re out on the ledge but it’s okay. I love you.” So, in order to do my part in our friendship (a thing that needs a LOT of work), I will try and pause and be thoughtful and NOT be a crafty-manipulator-psycho-hosebeast to the person I’d like to be friends with.

neg:

I’m going even KRAZY-ER!!! here, allllll alone, in Montreal. I don’t know anybody! I’m spending too much time alone! I feel isolated and cut-off and disconnected! Hello? Fuck!

pos:

It’s quiet. Solitude. No distractions. Space to take a whole breath and unclench 43 years-worth of stress-knots. Hey! Sleep in! Watch a movie! Make a t-shirt! Read a whole book in one day! GO SEE THE ART! THERE.IS.ART.EVERYWHERE. is one of the main reasons I moved here, remember? You LOVE IT HERE! It’s a beautiful city. Now, GO! I don’t have to be home to make dinner for anyone! Take some time to find out what you like to do, Susan-the-Person! It’s finally your turn! Sure, you’re worn-down-to-a-nub and half-dead but this time alone has been soothing and healing and you earned it. It’s okay! Get off your own back so that you can actually ROLL WITH IT! Boom, motherfuckerz! Progress, MOVE ON!

Pause and then:

• answer the phone and talk with Peter. Laugh. Receive. Be a mature and reasonable person. Be kind. Listen to Drew tell me she loves me. Feel more connected.
• proofread.
• wonder about my grammar and tense and then audibly say: "Fuck it."
• drink more water while thinking about dinner ... I have to eat that baby spinach! Luckily I really love baby spinach!
• Ask self: “Self, do you feel a bit more balanced?” Self: “A bit.”
• save.
• publish.

Finally:

Publish and edit and publish and edit and monkey around with settings and wonder if prosebox is really that much better than Open Diary. Hmmm...

Finally-for-real:

The formatting is fuckin' bonkers on this shit... I give up. Have fun!