unfuckwithable.ca

The soundtrack to this post is Lou Reed’s “Perfect Day”.

So I had to make an emergency appointment with an oral surgeon because I woke up with a horrifyingly terrible toothache/jaw ache - the only thing to keep me passing out was the liquid Lidocaine I saved from the last massive seizure I had.  A few X-rays and an exam later, I need pretty immediate surgery to remove some impacted and infected teeth.  Like, a lot of surgery.  The surgeon gave me a ton of antibiotics to start treating the infection and enough pain pills to get me through the weekend, with a promise to refill as needed (YAY).

That means I won’t be going to Ottawa as I had been planning, because I’m going to be having some serious downtime (but still able to work on my special research projects).  Bummer.

On the bright side, even though I have amazing dental insurance, this is going to cost well over a thousand dollars.  Wait, that’s not a good thing.  Fuck.  Looks like I have to finance the percentage of the surgery that my insurance doesn’t cover.  What’s more loans to pay?!  I’m running my own deficit budget here, clearly.

Hahaha, life.  You win this round.

If I had my way, I’d give all of this up, hop on a plane, and come be yours for the rest of…whatever.  (Or until you get super sick of my shit.)  I could use the escape.  Sleeping alone is overrated anyway.

CONGRATS KRISTEN AND ROMAN!

• Purchase supplies to fix up/customize my bike.  New paint job, rear rack, and a milk crate if I can find one (keeping it Montreal-style).  Canadian flag and Fleurdelisé decals on order.
• Bike at least 10km in heavy traffic, hopefully more.  Baby steps, y’all.
• Officially going vegetarian.  Cheese is excepted from this rule (read: poutine).  Also no more Pepsi/soft drinks - Perrier/San Pellegrino is the new rule around here.
• Trip to Publix to pick up a sufficient amount of alcohol to mix with Soma so I can get some sleep when my Ambien runs out in three days.
• Do all of that computer shit I posted about earlier.  I want a nice, clean machine to look at porn with to write with to video chat with to be a productive member of society with.
• McBrutaLLL is my spirit animal.
• Make appointment for an eye exam and get new glasses.  Or see if I can get financing for LASIK surgery.
• Make yearly dental appointment and see about getting my wisdom teeth removed.  All four of them.  ALL OF THE MORPHINES!

Next weekend (or during the week):

• Wait impatiently for the call from DC on the second job, lest I hang myself from the ceiling from the anxiety/depression/stress.
• Day trip to the beaches down in the Keys - some sun tanning, some swimming, some flirting with the vacationers from Ontario and Quebec.
• Pilgrimage to Dairy Belle for some glorious poutine.  I will literally spend upwards of $40-50 there.  A large to eat while sitting there, and two large poutines to bring home, which inevitably turn into gratinées.  Miami/Fort Lauderdale people are most welcome to join me.

Near-term future:

• Regain my Foursquare mayorships I lost when I moved back to New Orleans.
• Learn how to use the Metrorail system.  If it isn’t in Montreal/Toronto/NYC/Boston/DC, I’m at a total loss.

After my post #24Hours and productivity marathon, I fell into a deep slumber, and while it was rather short considering my sleep deficit, I experienced so many visuals, insights, ideas, and good vibes.  I went to bed in pain, and I woke up feeling as if the whole world has been lifted from my shoulders (though it’s still there, believe me).  Alcoholics experience moments of clarity - I experienced a moment of positivity and energy.  Maybe it was the music, maybe this is a lingering effect of a beam of radiation to the head, maybe it’s a new/weird stress response to the anxiety of my neurology visit on Monday.

It’s an either/or situation on Monday.  I find out that I get to pass GO! and collect $200, or that I have sit another turn in jail - this game has no get out of jail free cards.  I’m 90% sure it will be the former.  In that case, all I have to do is figure out a plan d’action (so-called by me because it’s just as awful as the federal government’s version) and decide when to begin.  All options are on the table, I’ve decided.  I’m no longer going to pre-occupy myself with my transfer to DC, because it will happen when it happens, but I will plan for it in my schedule (I only get one shot).  There are more important things to focus on and I’ve taken my eye off the ball, which I said I wasn’t going to do in the first place.  Bad me.

Last time I immersed myself in work, in trying to save the world (or at least one country), and I lost pieces of myself in the process - not to mention losing others at the same time.  Not again, never again.  This time I have music, I have the written word (both mine and others’), and I have all sorts of beauty to distract myself with.  I’m lucky to know many talented and creative people who have stuck around with me over the past six, eight, ten, twelve years or more.  They can create and supply the other medicine crucial to my survival.  Seeing them do amazing things, go on adventures around the world, or grow into even better people is the best source of inspiration I could ever never ask for.  Merci d’avance.

I didn’t get a chance to make the necessary life changes I needed to undertake before starting my treatment, but I’m using this little break in the war on my vital organs to do just that.  If all options are on the table, I need to be in much better shape both physically and mentally to be able to make it through.  From now on, only healthy and positive things enter my body and mind.  (And, of course, the toxic brew to continue this war.)  Everything negative, I will force out - negative thinking, depression, the shit food I’ve been consuming lately (under stress), the chemicals, sweat, tears, and blood.  When all of this is over, I will be a much better person.  The same person, but better.  J’veux tout faire en même temps! Tant mieux, motherlovers!

This won’t be easy.  I’ll still complain, I’ll still be in pain, I’ll still do idiotic things.  I’ll still probably freak out every time I hear ever a shred of news about my job.  I’ll pine over women past, present, future, and never was.  But that’s all part of growing into a better person, and unfortunately part of the healing process.  That’s what I’m taking away from my short but intense dream - a plan for a longer, better life.

Tout est maintenant en place dans ma vie.

Multitasking, 24 Hours of Vinyl (I did 20 legit listening hours and I’m fucking exhausted - a shower and sleep are in my near future), spent a few hours calling about some nice fixed gear bikes to look at this week (I’m going to start sweating out the toxic chemicals from treatment even if it almost kills me), and now I’m really looking forward to that shower…

The plus side of 24 hours of great music?  I’ve never been more productive in the backlog of reading and writing I’ve been slacking on.  I also have a mental list of what to max out my credit card on the next time I head to the record store.

More positivity, less negativity (as much as that’s possible for me).  Living the dream, you guys.