small update...

I've been good lately!
Everything has been pretty good. To a degree, one of the best cures for depression is distraction. So I have been distracting myself. From time to time the beast creeps up on me and I have to change my scenery; go for a walk, a car ride, or just go upstairs and hang out with my mother. That helps. The other day I was at the hospital again, visiting with my obstetrician. Because of my history with my "mood deterioration" they always make me see their social worker, Valerie. She was pretty amazed by the fact that I have been trying to get a medication change for 2 months and haven't gotten any response from the clinic or from my family doctor, so she left some nasty messages on a couple machines for me. Good lady. I am not expecting any phone calls today, though. I've given up. It's been a long time and I am tired of waiting for doctors to get back to me. So I distract myself. And things are good, most of the time.
I have to tidy this basement today.
Oy vey.

haitian vent

This is irritating:

The other day, 98% of all the chicks on my facebook were announcing their bra colours in order to 'raise awareness for breast cancer' (which is good because i was completely unaware until i saw "pink with polka dots" on my aunt's status... *sarcasm!!!*) and then they all gave themselves a hearty pat on the back for doing a whole lot of nothing. And I was all like "this is stupid, you guys are all retarded" and evvvvvveryone thought I was being a big grumpy jerk.
So then the earthquake in Haiti happens and there are a few organizations you can donate to just by sending a text message (completely legitimate - as a quick look at the red cross/salvation army/yele haiti websites will quickly reveal) and you try to get everyone on your list to spread the word and do they?

No. No they do not.

I do not like people right now. Fuck your bras, you idiotic fucking twats.

death by depression

I'm trying!
I really am trying to keep an upbeat attitude and be happy. I even tried to volunteer some place but the co-ordinator never called me back... I would be painting if I had the paint... I am trying. I don't like being depressed.
But what if depression is like a terminal illness?
What if, without proper pain management and treatment, it grows and grows like a tumour, and just keeps slowly trying to kill you?
That is what it feels like. When you can't maintain appearances anymore, and when you are constantly worrying about everything and just waiting for everything to turn to shit... that must be this depression thing trying to kill you. This thing in your brain that grows with every negative thought, gets stronger with every tear or insult, and wants you to die.
That's what it feels like, a lot of the time.. like I am just waiting for this thing to kill me.
But I am trying. Fuck. I just want to feel better.

vagiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiina

I'm just going to say one thing here:
When am I going to make friends with the type of person who would wear an identical clay replica of their vulva around their neck? I want to party with that person.
My va-jay-jay isn't nearly as sloppy looking as these ones and I still wouldn't display it proudly.
But if that's your thing, fuck it. Good for you.

(the forth one from the left isn't so bad, upon reflection...)

why would anyone read this blog it's just insanely pathetic

When did I begin to feel like a prisoner in my own life?

I have what feel to me like flashbacks of another life, before this one. A life where I had friends, a job, money, and I looked great in my underwear. I drank martinis at One Duke and picked up a bouquet of flowers on the way home, just because. I smoked on patios and did some drugs when they were offered. I had a zillion boyfriends and I made art. I listened to music loudly while I devoured poetry on my bed, all night long. I drank wine in the tub and I painted walls lime green.

Now I wake up still tired, and try to fall back asleep. Then I have to get up because the sound of people walking around upstairs is too distracting. I drink 2 cups of coffee and have a shower. Then I sit on the couch. There is never anything on. I get on the computer and I have no one to talk to; there are no new messages on my facebook. I try to read a book, but most of them aren't interesting so I read one I've read before, years ago. I eat too much junk food and my one size fits all bath robe is starting not to fit around my ever-expanding waist. I wonder how much weight I will have to lose after this baby is born.

I know it sounds absolutely awful to even think this way, but I just hope I don't resent this baby. I hope I don't feel like he ruined my life. I hope he doesn't ruin my life. I hope I don't end up a single mom. I hope I don't start wearing mom jeans. I hope I still have the will to put on make up when I get out of the shower, and I hope I don't start getting into floral patterns and "the mom show". I hope Mike loves him and we get married and we are a family. I do not want to lose everything that ever mattered to me in exchange for a baby that I didn't exactly ask for. We're coming so close to the end and I am just terrified of what kind of mother I am going to be. What kind of mother has these thoughts? Aren't I supposed to be excited and happy? Sometimes I am. It's just when I sit in this basement and think about it long enough that I start to wonder if I'm capable of doing a good job at this...

In a parallel universe I am writing the antithesis to this blog entry in a cafe, drinking a cup of coffee spiked with several different liquors and waiting for a friend to arrive and spend the afternoon with me. Maybe I'm writing about the trip I am planning to Barcelona. Maybe I am writing about how happy I am that I am going to have a Masters degree soon. Maybe I am writing about how sorry I feel for this person I know, who has depression and can't get the right medication...

Or maybe this is it. This is me and this is who I've been working up to becoming every second of my life so far. Maybe there is nothing left to dream for and no reason to put on make up in the morning because I'm just going to sit on a couch in a basement all day, every day anyway.

everything that is frustrating me and how i am choosing to deal with it, part I.

I am angry that I don't know how to get limewire on my macbook. I need it to download music. So I can put said music on my ipod. My 200 dollar ipod that I cannot use, because I don't know how to use the 1400 dollar computer. When I think about this it almost makes me throw this laptop out the fucking window and grab a neighbourhood child and tear his throat out with my teeth. Instead I shake uncontrollably while trying not to cry.

I am irritated that my mother thinks limewire is the devil and will not let me use it on her computer (the one i know how to use) and is thus very much contributing to my hatred of the apple corporation right now. Hatred of all technology. I hate technology.

I am pissed off at Mike because he has been facebook creeping some really pretty girl named Tina Gray and he thinks I don't see this in my history files. Normally this would not bother me, except that I am very hormonal and feeling very fat and ugly as of late. I want to cut off his head right now.

Also pissed off that he is gone for the day in Brantford, getting away from me, while I lose my ever loving mind here in this basement all alone. He should be here suffering too. Fucker.

I need a new prescription, some new combination of antidepressants and I have needed this for moooonths. I am incredibly unhappy and I need some sort of chemical to alter this. My fucking doctor needs to get back to me before I jump in front of a goddamn train.

I found a stretch mark. 'Nuff said.

So I am sitting here in absolute silence, on the ugliest and most uncomfortable love seat in the world, hardly blinking and just letting it out and onto blogger. After this I am going to go to bed and cry until I fall asleep and try not to wake up for as long as possible.

the real world: hamilton.

I'm sitting here watching The Real World. They're in DC. It's the first episode. I love this show, it's a little pathetic. So you know how in the first episode it introduces you to every person in the house and shows you bits of the video they sent in to be selected for the show? Well I'm sitting here and I'm wondering what I would do for my Real World audition tape.

...What would I do for my Real World audition tape?

Maybe I could take the camera with me to Harvest Burger, I could chug a 40 of beer in 25 seconds and order a burger, fries, fish, more fries, a chocolate milk and a greek salad and bet someone 20 dollars that i could finish it all? And then proceed to finish it all and throw up puke that looks just like tartar sauce on the ladies room floor?
I've done that! A 100% genuine Lindsay moment.

I could videotape one of my "episodes" where I lay in bed and cry for hours on end. I've done that!

Other than that, I do not know what I could put on that tape that would distinguish me as an original, authentically entertaining person. Shit. Good thing I'm having a baby. He will justify my existence and give me a good excuse for being a super lame-o. Just kidding!