Nothing like a cold read on a hot day

I've always walked by that Utopia place on Lonsdale and saw the sign for a psychic reading and thought it would be funny to go in one of these days and get one..You know, just for shits and giggles. Well, I guess today was destined to be that day.

Shits there were not, but giggles.. Those hit me as soon as I walked in. I was bombarded by so much woo it was overwhelming. Crystals and incense and books with hilarious titles like "Medical Healing with your Mind -scientifically proven to work!". I had to walk around for about 5 minutes pretending to browse so that I can force a straight face and focus on maintaining my composure.

Once in the session, she quickly deciphered my personality by probably assessing my body language, tone of voice, and socio-economic status as well as using vague terminology like "smart", "witty", and "funny".

Apparently I "get" men (as in I relate to them) because in most of my past lives I was male. Ha! That's actually something I've always joked about.

She asked, "What signs are you usually attracted to?"

My first thought was, 'Wrong Way', 'Dead End', 'Danger'..

"My last two ex's were Cancers," I replied. She then told me that the problem with Cancers are that they are moody. "They weren't moody", I said, "At all."

Then of course she backtracked, "I think it makes a difference what year they are born." I'm sure it does.

I'm going to meet a Gemini who is slightly older than me and has a "good job" some time between "tomorrow and October". Awesome. Let me mark that one on my calendar.

I am also "good and bad with money". Makes perfect sense.

All in all she was a really nice lady and kind of funny. She is a smooth talker and good at what she does. I can see why it would be so easy to fall into the trap of believing this stuff. The human brain is wired to think magically; critical thinking does not come naturally and takes work. We've evolved to make connections between loosely associated facts and attach meaning where there is none. No matter how skeptical and logical I am, I found myself starting to read into her vague statements and had to pull myself out of the quicksand.

We unconsciously give away so much about ourselves in our body language that all someone has to do is "read" it and interpret it back to you and feed off of your validation.

She gave me her card in case I want to meet some of the people from my past lives.

I bet they are dead sexy.

I literally want to chase what I am running from

**This is something I drafted on December 10th, 2013 but never published it because I didn't think it was finished. I was going to lead into why I want to become a storm chaser and I'm quite sure I booked my storm chasing tour very soon after I wrote this. The title refers to something I've always said about my life; that it feels like I'm constantly chasing what I'm running from because I seem to be always going in circles and never getting anywhere**

Something happened when I went for a bike ride around the sea wall during that wind storm exactly 3 weeks ago on November 19th.

Besides catching a cold, I also caught another type of bug.

You see, I have a problem. According to my psychiatrist it's a "substance abuse" problem and I should probably be in rehab. I'm an addict, a junkie in the making. I love alcohol, I love cocaine (especially when mixed with alcohol) and I find myself craving it more these days.. even after hearing my father talk about how it ruined his life. I have dreams about it, and lately every time I get drunk I try and seek it out. I love anything that sends my dopamine and adrenaline through the roof.  Even innocuous things like food, Candy Crush, or just a good book will hijack my brain. If it's addictive, I like it. Somehow exercise is a harder one to pick up.. I guess it's kind of like smoking.. it takes effort at first. Listening to good music will also get those synapses firing.

I rounded a corner, past the Lionsgate bridge, and I felt the force of nature against my bike as I rode into the wind. At one point I had to get off and walk. Once I rounded another corner I saw people standing around taking pictures. The waves were washing up onto the seawall. They were huge and terrifying and beautiful. Something about their immensity and power made it almost sexual. I was so thrilled that I was almost shaking in fear and excitement. I recorded video and took some photos with my crappy iphone camera. I wished I had Zeus's GoPro strapped to my helmet.

Looking at the waves and standing so close to danger, it felt like I was staring death in the face; I guess also because I have a huge fear of the ocean. But like anything I'm afraid of, I'm also fascinated by it.

That feeling brought on by thinking you might die but then not dying made me realize that this was my cocaine.. my alcohol.. my Ritalin.

Flour Child

When you try and cut out wheat (and most other processed food) it feels like the whole world is against you. All of a sudden the images of bagels and donuts flashing across the flatscreen TVs at Tim Horton's suddenly become so sinister. Wheat is everywhere. It's in everything. 

On January 13th I decided to change the way I ate and swore off all wheat and processed food. I still drank alcohol.. but I tried to minimize it to organic wine. I still drank Gray Goose, which I know has wheat in it so I haven't been totally perfect. After a few days of brutal withdrawal symptoms -headaches, mind fog, irritability, confusion, and obsessive sandwich fantasies- I was doing well. My appetite had gone down, my cravings vanished, I wasn't coughing in the middle of the night, the psoriasis on my scalp that I've had since I was 11 started going away, I had more energy and felt more alert. My ADHD symptoms were almost non-existent. Even the hyperactivity I usually get from alcohol went away. The mechanism behind that puzzles me though. I guess if my ADHD is exasperated by wheat and then even more so by alcohol, then maybe the wheat is behind my ADHD? It would be interesting if in the future it was determined that ADHD was in fact a side effect of a wheat allergy. ADHD is genetic, but then I think so are wheat allergies. So who knows. Anyways, I digress.

I was doing well until I got my new job. We were having an IT Open House my first week there and I managed to resist the Dad's cookies on the table. However, on February 13th, exactly a month after I started this adventure, my coworker invites me to come with her down to the new First Nations center on campus to have some cake to celebrate the center's opening. My intention was just to torture myself and watch others around me eat cake, living vicariously through them. Then I thought, "Some icing should be fine". People think caving into a craving is an impulsive act... it isn't. You plan it. I usually find myself already thinking about excuses to give in. You imagine yourself doing it even before you tell yourself you've decided that you are going to give in to the craving. It's true junkie behavior. Though I also read somewhere that by the time you consciously make any decision, you've already made it before you are even aware of it. 

I grab a piece of cake, scrape off the icing and push the cake part aside. I take a bite of the icing, laced with some chocolate cake crumbs, and I get this distinct feeling of falling. For a moment I felt like I was being strapped down or trapped. Like I had gotten on a ride.. which I had of course. I had bought the ticket and got on the roller coaster. Waves of hyperactivity resonated through me as copious amounts of glucose flooded my bloodstream. By the time I got back upstairs I felt like taking a nap. I was ok though.. I felt fine and everything was under control.

Two hours later I'm at Richmond center for an appointment. I arrive early because I wanted to hang out at the Pet Habitat and play with the kittens for 20 minutes. I was looking forward to that burst of dopamine and oxytocin so much.. perhaps I was ovulating.. (fuck I really am like Mayim Bialik's character, Amy Farrah Fowler from Big Bang Theory, though thankfully I'm way more attractive). Anyways, I arrive only to find that the Pet Habitat is closed down and gone.. the big glass window dark, empty, and kittenless. 

I'm filled with a rush of despair and an intense craving for sugar. I walk to Purdy's and thankfully they have my favorite flavor, raspberry cheesecake. I hesitate for a moment... cone or cup? Wheat or not? I'm already caving to processed food... should I cave to wheat too? No. I compromise with myself and order it in a cup. The cashier puts it in a cone and proceeds to hand it to me, "sorry, I said in a cup" (don't know why the hell I'm apologizing, god I'm so Canadian), "just dump it in the cup, it's fine". Just more microscopic pieces of wheat to sneak into my body. My hands are shaking as I hand her the money; it's like when you really have to go to the bathroom on your way home and just as you put the key into the door the urgency increases tenfold because your body knows it's so close to relief. I needed that ice cream so bad. I sat down on the nearest bench and devoured it like a hungry stray cat devours a saucer of milk. Calmness and serenity. All is now right with the world. The next day I ate a Dad's chocolate chip oatmeal cookie on the last day of the open house. I ate it as slow as possible.. it was like a beautiful two minute vacation. I'm quite sure my eyes glazed over as I let the crumbs slowly dissolve in my mouth. 

Since then I've slowly started eating more refined sugar. The slippery slope got even oilier when I started eating gluten-free cookies -the wheataholic's methadone. My first bite of a gluten-free chocolate chip cookie felt like a breath of fresh air after being trapped in a crawl space for a month. It was delicious.. and I wanted more. My work has this tradition where when someone new starts they have to buy the team donuts or some kind of treat. My manager, knowing that I don't eat wheat, suggests that I bring in some gluten-free cookies. I buy two boxes and only one made it to the office. Because of the higher sugar content of gluten-free products, they are even more addictive. I've realized that my wheat addiction was compounded by my sugar addiction. 

On February 22nd I had some ice-cream cake at work. It's weird because about 10 minutes after I finished it I felt a bit dizzy and was very mildly hallucinating. I felt mentally foggy.. like when I was looking at someone I wasn't really looking at them. My focus of attention just dispersed and scattered across the room and I felt lethargic. This feeling eventually passed. 

On the 25th some cupcakes snuck their way into my body. A couple hours later I felt more lethargy and brain fog.. I also felt like my chest was tightening up and to take a proper breath required conscious effort. 

Sugar was the gateway drug that allowed wheat back into my life. This one guy's desk at work is covered with cookies and Halloween candy that's free for anyone to help themselves. "IT departments run on sugar" he says. Sadly there is some truth in that, especially for me since I am not super passionate about IT; I don't mind it but it doesn't really excite me. At the end of the day it's still just a job and little bursts of glucose help pass the time. I've been indulging in chocolates and ice-cream and candy for the last 3 weeks now. 

Today, after eating the most wheat I have ever ingested since January 12th, I felt like I was on drugs at work. I felt like I was in a bubble or like I was under water. My thoughts were like molasses. Just before my shift ended I got really flustered trying to help this guy with the photocopier. He wanted to photocopy his drivers license so that both sides ended up on one page. I knew how to do this... but when I looked at the touch-screen on the copier I just couldn't focus or think. Like I mentioned to someone earlier, it was like trying to do algebra on acid. I just felt brain damaged. The thing is, I used to feel like this quite often; I used to call them "bad ADHD days." Since I started this job I haven't had to take any stimulant medication. I haven't had to take it in a long time...except today when I got home from work. At one point during this ordeal I tried to call the service desk and talk to someone who could help me but it kept going to voicemail -now I know how users feel. When I went back to the copier, I wasn't even sure which guy it was that I was helping.. I forgot what he looked like or just never even took note of it when he first started talking to me. Eventually we found a workaround and I apologized and said I was new and had only been there for two weeks. He said "it's ok, I'll forgive you this time." At least he took it well. 

If being skinny isn't enough motivation, being able to focus and function and do well at my job should be. But like this CBC article says, the grocery store is like a battleground. Processed food is designed to be addictive. Real food is rewarding but it doesn't elicit euphoria. We eat to live; we shouldn't live to eat. Everything is about making a quick buck. At the end of the day no one gives a shit about your wellbeing... it's all about making money. The processed food industry is one giant scam.

As I sit here scratching my itchy, burning scalp.. I realize that I didn't fail. This is isn't a diet. This is a journey that will have its ups and downs and the wagon will always stop for me so that I can get back on, no matter how many times I fall off.

Okay 2013.. Let's do this.

Growing up I always wished I could be that well behaved, quiet kid in class. Every time I started a new school it was a new chance; a clean slate after another tarnished reputation. I always thought, "This time I'm going to behave, make friends, pay attention, not disrupt the class, finish my work on time, have nicer handwriting and not be sent to the hall or the principal's office three times a week -this time I'm going to be good". As a kid we're taught that we can only be "good" or "bad", and I was almost always a "bad" kid because I could never control my behavior. After school number 10, I gave up on this dream and eventually just embraced my hyperactivity as a part of my personality. Obviously being diagnosed with ADHD 25 years ago would have set my life on a different trajectory, but alas this is how it is and in the end I think I turned out okay.

My only problem is that I still can't control some aspects of my behavior...mainly my ability to cope with life's little setbacks and disappointments. I just fall apart/explode if things don't go the way I thought they would or should. Granted I've gotten a lot better with medication and increasing self-awareness. I'm realizing that a lot of my irritability comes from either fear or physical discomfort. I react badly to things when I am tired or hungry, and when plans suddenly change I panic because I seem to not have a sense of security; it feels like the world is spinning out of control. A lot of times it's social anxiety that manifests as anger. In the end it always boils down to fear and/or physical discomfort. Obviously something inside me broke or failed to develop some time around the age of 2. I never learned how to cope with life the way a healthy human adult is supposed to. I'm sure this is very common and many people never learn. I don't consider myself special in this regard; I'm just reflecting on myself right now.

I usually don't bother with new years resolutions because I know I never follow through with them. I already tell myself almost daily that I should get more exercise, more sleep, drink less, save money, etc. At the end of the day those things aren't at the forefront of what is important to me. I catch up on sleep and I take breaks from drinking every now and then.


I read this blog entry yesterday by Tasleem and it inspired me. I could never be that "good" kid, but I can still become a good daughter, a good girlfriend, and if it ever comes to it, a good parent. I want to be that good person; someone who doesn't swear and complain all the time and snap at loved ones because she knows she can get away with it. This article also really put things in perspective for me.

I already started this a few days ago, but I've decided that my official new years resolution is to control my emotional reactions to stress so that I can become a less selfish and more easygoing person.

Art is Dead

I've realized that I need to be creative in order to be happy.

Our lives as human beings are inherently meaningless. Being creative gives you a feeling of uniqueness and sense of importance, as if you've done something meaningful and have contributed to the world. Even if no one sees or acknowledges your creation.

There are over 7 billion reasons why originality is dead. Doing any sort of art for the sake of anything other than for the pleasure of being creative will only lead to disappointment. Now that I've decided I want to focus on writing, I've found that seeing so many people out there with blogs, websites, and columns is really discouraging.

Last night at the open mic I went to with Zeus, over half of the performers did covers. It made me sad to see that people are so desperate to be recognized and heard that they will just replicate something that's already popular. Or maybe my pessimistic, overly emotional, wine and vodka soaked brain was reading too much into it. Perhaps they just don't know how to write music but enjoy playing it. Either way, I realized that there are so many fighting over a piece of the pie that even if I get my share I will only have a crumb, barely visible to the naked eye.

Fuck the pie.

Time is My Money

So it looks like I'll be transferring to the Technical Web Design program that starts in January. It's apparently not as challenging and it's set up so that you do most of your work in class and rarely have homework. Perfect. You know.. there is a small chance that perhaps if it weren't for the drinking, drugs, concerts, parties and staying up late -I might have had less difficulty with school. Haha! But seriously, if I can't do it high/drunk/hungover/tired, then I can't do it at all. Because at any given time I am most likely one or more of these things, so unless I am extremely passionate about what I'm doing, I need an education/profession that doesn't demand too much of my spare time and/or attention.

Now, you may think this sounds like the musings of a lazy, middle-class, hedonistic wannabe-socialite slacker... and quite honestly, that might be an accurate assumption. I get bored easily and my social life has always taken precedence over my responsibilities.

I think life is meant to be enjoyed. Chronic stress is unhealthy. I don't have that "drive to succeed" that we're fed to believe that we're supposed to have in order to qualify as functional adults and productive members of society. Sure, I like money as much as the next person, but no money is worth my happiness and sense of well-being. After my health, family and friends, I value my free time the most.

Besides working 11 hours a week at BCIT, I have no other obligations until January 14th.

Jackpot.

Scar Tissue

you were the cement block tied around my ankles and the blade on my wrists

you were the fresh air within the plastic bag around my head

you comforted me with your blanket of thorns

and the poison bled out of me when you tore it away



At least the bitterness you left me with tasted sweeter

than any of your gestures



She’s still holding the knife you slid inside me

and when she pulls it out of you

the future will smile at me through the mirror

and you’ll hear the echoes of your history repeating itself