Well…

And here we are again, unemployed, with another failure under our belt. I think it’s safe to say that – IF I am going to be able to keep any sort of job, or move forward in any way, it is going to take a lot of work.

I don’t want to say that I’ve given up, because I don’t think I have, but… OK, let me tell you what happened first. I did get accepted into college for Graphic Design, like I had mentioned in the last two posts. However, it wasn’t long before I started finding it very overwhelming and difficult to keep up, to the point where apathy was slowly creeping in. I stopped caring, and wasn’t sure how I was going to muster the motivation to make it to the end of what was already a shortened program (roughly 6 months). In my defence, there was A LOT packed in to that 6 months – I believe by the end it would have been 12 courses all together.

Any way… There was a strike. If you live in Canada (or maybe just Ontario?), you know ALL about it. The strike went on for over a month! This happened right when I was beginning to lose faith, and interest. Long story short – the break sort of cemented my internal, quiet, semi-in-denial decision not to continue with the program. Any tiny bit of momentum I had left, I lost within the first two weeks of the strike, and I cannot tell you how relieved I was when they announced after the strike ended that students could apply to withdraw with a full refund of their tuition. Normally, at this point in the semester, I would not have been able to withdraw and get my money back. It’s almost as if whatever powers that be knew that this was just not happening for me, and decided to give me a bit of a break, and allow me to sort of undo a bit of the damage that would have been done should I have not made it through the program.

OK, so now that I’m 28 years old and have a diploma, but very little work experience of any value (in terms of duration at any one company), I have now had to really face what may just be a reality for me – I may not be able to work. At least, not in any traditional manner. I mean, everyone sort of knew this already, but I, especially, did not want to believe it. I wanted to just get my SHIT together, and go and be normal. Get a job, make friends, impress the boss, have benefits, and a steady paycheque. Now, the sort of life I have always wanted (to be my own boss, make my own hours), may be the only viable option for me – but my confidence is nearly non-existent, and I have NO idea anymore what I would want to do. Everything just seems impossible now. A pipe dream.

(You should totally watch this show)

I’ve flirted with the idea of starting a YouTube channel and seeing where that goes, but I’m sort of terrified of being on camera. Plus, what would it be about? It’s hard to have a successful YouTube channel if it doesn’t have a focus.

I’ve thought about selling my watercolour paintings. Practicing and getting better, until I can produce larger paintings, and maybe even sell the originals, plus prints.

I’ve thought about doing editing – proofreading, essentially. But I have no idea where to start, and again, that does require some level of reliability. I’m just not sure anymore that I can be at all reliable.

So, here we are… Thankfully, the stars seem to be aligning in some regard – because I have a good gynaecologist looking after me (I have some hormonal imbalance going on that is causing me not to ovulate and to over-produce the lining of my womb, and not shed it properly every month, which could eventually lead to cancer – hooray!), and the medical team that my family doctor is part of just had a certified psycho-therapist join the team once a week (and they are covered by OHIP!), so I should be able to see them to talk about… well, my very deep deep hatred for myself. I know, I know… hatred it a strong word, but don’t freak out! I’m not about to kill myself or anything, even if the idea of disappearing into an abyss is, at times, very inviting. But I believe the many many years with PMDD – the cycling from being normal for one or two weeks a month, to completely and utterly useless for two weeks of the month, has worn on my self-esteem in profound ways that may take a long time to untangle. I didn’t even know that I had PMDD until a couple of years ago – and while it helps to know, in a way, I haven’t had a tonne of success in treating it.

And so continues the “journey” to… what? Self-acceptance? Success? I have no idea anymore what to work towards, because I don’t know if my PMDD will continue to get worse as it has since I turned 25. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to keep a job, or keep anything going for any significant length of time. I don’t know if one day my PMDD will just become so bad that I turn to surgery in a desperate attempt to escape this horrible, vicious cycle – or if that will even help. Hello surgical menopause in your thirties! Woop! Woop!

Symptoms of PMDD (Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder):

• Severe depression/feelings of hopelessness/apathy
• Inability to focus/persistent brain fog
• FATIGUE – this is a big one and cannot be stressed enough

Ok, I have to pause here to really illustrate this as best I can. I have lived a life without PMDD – it happened before I got my period, and even within the first years where it wasn’t as severe. So I know what it’s like to be “normal tired”. PMDD tired is BRUTAL. I literally lose days every cycle, both around ovulation and during the two weeks leading up to my period SLEEPING all day. Back when I was working full-time, and did not know yet that I had PMDD, I would have to miss a day or several days every month due to this. If I forced myself to go to work on one of the days where my body would be screaming for sleep and rest, I would spend the entire morning – until noon or later, just trying to wake up. I couldn’t stay on task, I could barely keep my head up off my desk. I would go through cups of coffee and still, nothing. By the end of the day, I would have accomplished very little. I would go home, feeling like I was crawling the entire way, desperate for bed, and I would GO TO BED. As soon as I got home. And because at this point I lived alone, this meant I didn’t eat anything that night. This would happen over and over again – EVERY MONTH. Eventually leading to burn-out, as is to be expected, I would imagine, when you’re barely eating because it takes every ounce of energy you have just to make it TO WORK, let alone be productive at work during those two weeks of PMDD hell. By the 6 month mark, when I would inevitably either lose my job or quit, it would be a WELCOME BREAK, because I would be beyond exhausted. I get that some people may think – that’s just life, but NO. I can barely function during this time. It would be like a normal person getting a horrible stomach flu every month for two weeks, with a fever and everything, plus crippling fatigue, and trying to keep up at work. Sure, if it happens once or twice a year, not as big a deal, but EVERY. FUCKING. MONTH. It adds up, and eventually your body literally gives out. 

Okay, back to the list…

• Withdrawal (during PMDD, I barely want to be seen or heard, I want to hide, it’s akin to becoming temporarily agoraphobic)
• Anxiety/paranoia
• Changes in appetite low/high/cravings
• Disrupted sleep patterns

That’s it, for the most part. For some with PMDD, this list looks a little different, but this is how MY PMDD works. It’s a perfect recipe for FUCK YOU. Seriously, it is no wonder I have not had any success in getting any sort of ball rolling when every month I lose momentum in such a monumentally severe way. I literally become a different person. No longer outgoing, no interest in doing pretty much anything, lethargic all the time, low appetite OR intense cravings, crippling anxiety, and absolutely zero ability to focus on anything.

I guess we will just have to see what the future holds for me, because right now, I literally have no clue anymore. I can’t even make plans – I can’t even hope right now. It feels dangerous to plan, or even ponder. So here’s to going in to another new year with zero plans – other than maybe trying to fail again at another part-time job, and to start therapy. OH, and to hopefully not get cancer of the womb 🙂

My PMDD every month… 

 

2017

As we drag ourselves, wounded, exhausted, and confused into 2017, I can’t help but be reminded of a song that really struck a nerve with me when I heard it back in, oh, when would that have been? You know what, let’s not worry about the when. Here it is.

(seeing as I can’t add a video URL, just pretend there is a video playing here, or better yet, go to Youtube and look it up, it’s a beautiful song)

Puscifer – Momma Sed

Wake up, son of mine
Momma got something to tell you
Changes come
Life will have its way
With your pride, son
Take it like a man

Hang on, son of mine
A storm is blowing up your horizon

Changes come
Keep your dignity
Take the high road
Take it like a man

Listen up, son of mine
Momma got something to tell you
All about growing pains
Life will pound away
Where the light don’t shine, son
Take it like a man
Suck it up, son of mine
Thunder blowing up your horizon

Changes come (Changes come)
Keep your dignity (Keep your dignity)
Take the high road (Take the high road)
Take it like a man (Take it like a man)

Momma said like the rain (This, too, shall pass)
Like a kidney stone (This, too, shall pass)
It’s just a broken heart, son
This pain will pass away

I think it’s safe to say that 2016 surprised us all with its seemingly ravenous hunger, and penchant for chaos. Not only did it take the lives of many, some of which we can all agree were way too young, but many of us were also on the edge of our seats for the better half of 2016 just waiting for the US election to be over with.

I cried the morning after the election. This isn’t something I’ve talked too candidly about with anyone, but it hit me hard. I know I’m not an American, but I have friends who are, and they are good people. However, the reason I found the results of this years election so difficult, was the message it appeared to shout loud and clear across the entire globe; that we’ve still got a long way to go, and fear is still an extremely powerful weapon.

I don’t know about you, but I grew up with a general sense that the world was well equipped for progression. Things had gotten better since my Grandparents time, and appeared to continue in that direction. I never thought that we could go from tears of pure joy from the results of one election (Obama), to tears of despair and confusion the next.

It may seem very dramatic to some, but to me, the fact that so many people chose a clearly corrupt, self-centered, bigoted and sexist douche-bag of a business man over a woman who has worked so hard her whole life, who may indeed have her flaws but is none-the-less trying her best, is heartbreaking. Something about it just screamed “WE STILL HATE WOMEN”, and the worst part was that many of those voters were women… Maybe that should read “WE STILL HATE OURSELVES” – but that’s a topic for another time.

On a more personal note…

2016, for me, was also a very tough year in general. We lost my Grandmother, my Mother’s Mother, only a year after losing my Grandfather. This was our first Christmas without her there. In the past, there were very few Christmas’ in which she wasn’t there, her warmth settling over us all, her light making everything sparkle just a little bit more.

I have a confession to make: I still don’t get it. Death. All it does is churn up nothing but raw child-like despair and confusion in me. There have been many times this year that I have cried and silently asked, why? Where did he go. Where did my Grandmother go? How can that be IT? I don’t think I’ll ever feel any differently about it. Somehow, all of my life, and even still, death always seems to me like such a waste. A tragedy, no matter the circumstances. I will always miss them…

Well, that’s enough of that. Any more and I’ll be a trembling pile of human, with a tear-soaked cat in my lap, desperate for freedom.

 

 

On the home-front, we also conclude this year jobless (both myself and my partner). We anxiously await what we hope is good news about his job prospects, but I continue to float in a sort of purgatory of after-career suicide (or maybe it just died of complications during surgery?). The only thing I KNOW now, is that I have a long road ahead of me in order to rebuild my confidence, and to rediscover the part of me that used to dream up fantastical stories, and see the whimsy and the good in life, and in myself.

I know, I’m such a downer… It doesn’t paint the greatest picture of a wholesome “fresh start” heading in to the new year, and I think, folks, that I’m going to have to just accept that. I’m just not feeling overly optimistic, but I do have a plan. I think it may be a while before I can sustain the spirit and the energy that I used to seemingly have in spades, but that’s OK. I’m applying to my alma mater for Graphic Design – with the end goal being self-employment – possibly résumé writing, editing and design for private clients.

I am not over-the-moon excited, just because of all the heavy shit that has been going on, but I AM excited. I look forward to learning some new skills, and although I am gun-shy of getting my hopes up, I do hope the experience helps me to rebuild my confidence. I will certainly need it if I am to do my own thing afterwards. In the mean time, I’ll be trying to shake this conflicting, cold feeling of being alone at the edge of the world – you know, that strangely comforting mix of stillness with an unsettling undertow of it just being the calm before the storm? Something tells me, though, that I’m not alone in feeling like that this New Years.

To 2017. May it bring hope, and light.

 

 

I’m the Nut-bar: Ergophobia, and an Update

Well, Christmas is upon us again and I’m back to being myself. Which is to say, certifiably insane.

I do a good job of hiding it, I’ve come to realize. Which maybe isn’t helping me much. I should be seeing a therapist weekly, but I don’t have the money, and I can’t really outwardly prove how much I need it.

So, buckle up. Here comes the “rant”. I’m going to pick at my scabs and re-open the self-inflicted wounds that is my work history. Where to begin?!

Replace dumped with fired, and I think this is probably a good place to begin.

What seems like many a moon ago, I had a part-time job at Pet Valu. The fact that I could barely deliver on that job should probably have been a clue, but hey. I digress… So, we’re coming up on Christmas, and I’m having trouble getting to work on time most shifts, but once there, I’m engaged and doing my job well, maybe even making a friend or two. Of course, the manager cares less about that and more about my lack of punctuality. Something I am realizing is one of the symptoms of my Ergophobia, or, Social Anxiety (Ergophobia is the fear of work, which is of course rooted in social anxiety).

Think about people who are purposely late to dates, or who don’t text back or are very noncommittal in relationships. They often do this as a means of beating you to the rejection. Just apply this to work, and voila! You’ve got a recipe for a life of failure. 

This might explain why I am often jealous of those people. They often have no problems keeping jobs, but relationships? Phew. Still, at the end of the day, a job allows you to support yourself, a relationship, does not. I’d rather have relationship phobia, at this point.

Any way, I have gone WAY off track. So, at Pet Valu, we get a new part-timer. I’m told that this young lady is here just for seasonal help over the Christmas holiday. However, my spidey-senses are tingling. Sure enough, she hits it off with all of the staff, and, unlike yours truly, is rarely late.

In an attempt to stay professional while simultaneously calming my own nerves, I approach the manager to ask if I can still expect to have the same hours after the Christmas holidays, she assures me that yes, all is well and I will not lose any hours come the New Year.

Let’s fast-forward to the New Year. I head off to my first shift. I think it was January 2nd, or something like that. It’s Monday morning, I believe. I go in, ready to work, and immediately get called to speak to the manager in her little makeshift office in the back of the store. I’m sure you know what’s coming next… I get fired. I’m pretty devastated. I know, I know, I can hear you A-types and well adjusted folks saying – well it’s your own damn fault for being perpetually late! Yes, well that may be, but it doesn’t really matter now, does it?

Regardless of the reasons, I was assured that all was well and that I was not about to lose my job. Instead, I found myself feeling a lot like that tree, only, with bills and shit to pay. Jobless, rejected, abandoned. The rug pulled right out from under me, after being told that it wasn’t going to happen, and right after Christmas.

Now, I’ll save you from further torture and skip the other sob story of losing my first “real” job a few years ago in a very similar fashion (being told all was well and then coming in one day, only to be called to speak to HR or the supervisor and sacked). The result of these many different job failures has essentially been workplace PTSD. I have been working two days a week (already missed two days), for the past three weeks. THREE WEEKS ONLY – and already I have had a major panic attack. Oh, and I won’t bother going over how I lost the last full-time job I had, roughly a year ago now. Suffice it to say, it was in a very similar “rug out from under you” fashion. Only this time, I HAD NOT BEEN LATE ONCE. Assholes.

./÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷ bn

Whoops, sorry. That was my cat. Moving on.

Maybe I will find a way to make a living based on my plethora of mental illness. You know, become a female comedian or something, like Maria Bamford. I’ve thought about that, but, hilariously enough, successful comedians are typically successful because of their OCD and work-alcholism. They are usually anxious in the opposite direction – meaning, they are ALWAYS early, hate being late, and spend more time being productive jut out of an anxiety-driven need to always being doing something. Of course, these people are also exceptional in some way, and beloved by many.

So we rule that one out!

Of course, it doesn’t help that I grew up surrounded by well-adjusted pillars of strength and integrity. I think I am deathly afraid of disappointing my parents or ever seeming ungrateful in any way that I freeze, finding it difficult to move in any direction due to all the perceived opportunities to, well, fuck up.

Me.

It’s funny, because I’m not necessarily a shy person, or even an introverted one. I may have social anxiety, but I have no trouble being in large groups, or even speaking in front of a bunch of people. I have a decent grasp of common sense, and I’m insightful and fairly intellectual as well. I have good manners, and know how to conduct myself in public. I just get extremely anxious committing to a job, and subsequently, being trapped there when I find myself wanting to blow the place up because, the clock is ticking, everyone is working like little minions at their desks, and HOW IS THIS LIFE?!?!?

Phew. Sorry, almost let crazy pants out of her little closet there.

UPDATE TIME

So, I’m finally doing it. I’m going back to school. I’m going to go back to College, not University (because, let’s be real, I’m no academic). This time, it’s for Graphic Design.

I had seriously considered full-blown University for Humanities, because, Philosophy and all of that awesome stuff. However, the commitment involved is, frankly, immense. I don’t believe I have it in me.

So, with taking Graphic Design instead, I hope to find my tribe and meet other like-minded, creative weirdoes and do something like creative brand consulting, web design or something of that ilk. Something where, hopefully, I can work from home, or at least feel like I am in more control of my level of success or failure. Basically, I can’t fire myself… Yes, I can fail, but at least I will see it coming. I hope.

It is worth a try. I think the first test will be seeing if I can handle having a commitment to go to almost every day. That will be hurdle number one. I guess after that we’ll have to see whether it will be more medication trials, therapy, or both.

However, in the mean time…

I’ll be being crazy.

Back to Black

This isn’t going to be entertaining.

Frightening, isn’t it?

 

As I continue to walk the “desert”, to say that I have ‘writers block’ would be a major understatement, and a disservice to those of you who are busy with actual things, like, you know, jobs and shit.

I could waste your time and say that I have been busy, and that is why I have been neglecting the blog, but the truth of the matter is, I haven’t been doing anything. Ok, ok, that is not entirely true – I did start seeing a therapist (again). I also got a job and quit it within a week and a half of starting. So there IS that… (long story)

Is it bad that while I’m writing this, I’m just thinking about what I’m going to make for dinner? (chipotle shrimp tacos w/ sautéed veggies and rice) I know, right?!?!

Any way, back to the “blog”. Even thought I’m obviously going through some shit right now, and will likely come out the other side a different person than I was before, it DOES seem to continue to be my M.O. to be excruciatingly genuine. To elaborate, I’m talking about that type of genuine that a lot of people who are blessed with the skill of diplomacy call a lack of tact, or, bluntness.

Shall we carry on? So, it seemed like a perfectly logical thing for me to return to my outrageous title of Ballbag and Taint. I may not be the angsty teen that I once was, but I still enjoy some crude comedy, and this old title is near and dear to my heart. Inspired by the one and only Bill Burr, during one of his podcasts in which he used the term all willy-nilly, like he does, endearing me to the various ways in which you can refer to male genitalia. I just thought it was hilarious!

So, even though I may not be producing much of anything right now (except, maybe, for gas), I’m going “back to black” as I continue to wander, trying to figure out what my next moves are. So, bear with me. This post may be a little long-winded and plot-less, but in the end it will at the very least shed light on where I am, and where I might be headed.

I’m back to thinking about school. To be honest? I’m not ready for the whole day-job thing. I haven’t found “my thing” yet, and I’m done trying to be one of those smart, practical types that just takes a job because they need one.

Yes, I know, I don’t live within the realm of reality.

I just, sadly, cannot waste my time doing things that I don’t like doing, or that won’t teach me something new that will help me reach my goal(s). I’ve said it before, to most people’s horror – I would literally rather do NOTHING but sit, and think, than spend an hour with a price gun, pricing items on a shelf, getting paid minimum wage. I know, it’s crazy. It, like my odd love for crude humor, is something I just cannot shake.

So my goal remains – find a profession that works with my personality. Comedy? Journalism? Entrepreneurship? Hard to say. I’ve considered so many things, but have yet to move forward with anything. So, I’m back to considering writing or editing. For which I would want to go to a local University. Likely English with a minor in either psychology, philosophy, creative writing, or anthropology. Something like that.

I have no idea how University works…

I just feel like I’m behind in some ways. Like, I need to get back in to a learning environment and take work completely off of the table. Try to loosen back up and have some fun, so that I may stumble across a career path in an organic way. Writing has been one of the things that, while I have not been consistent with, has been with me since childhood. I have always had good grades in my English and Writing classes, and I enjoy it. I even enjoy editing other people’s work!

If I do go to school for English, with say, a minor in Creative Writing, I imagine that could open the door for me to do all kinds of things. Content management. Editing. Writing graphic novels. Or freelance writing for a website (mostly opinion pieces). Who knows… I am not at a point where I can really trust myself to follow through with anything, so for my own sake I’m going to say -this is all talk. There are so many things I have said that I’m going to do, but it always changes.

As for the fun stuff… I’m looking very forward to rediscovering my love for camping this coming August. We’ve booked 4 nights at a childhood favorite – Balsam Lake Provincial Park (shout out!) I’ve been busy planning ever since. I’m so excited for all of it. I MAY write a second blog on that, maybe a 3-parter, documenting the process, just in case anyone has never gone before and wants to learn the do’s and don’ts of tent/car camping.

Inspiration!

In the mean time, the new therapist that I have been seeing is actually quite wonderful. She specializes in adoption/helping adult adoptees, as well as creativity and work. Seems almost perfect, doesn’t it? Next week we will be talking about school and my relationship with work. You know, what might be the best course of action for me considering that MOST of the time my confidence is almost non-existent, and, well, let’s just say my decision making skills are pretty poor right now. So I need some help to get on with things.

Other than that, not much is new. I have given up on work – I’m sure some people will be displeased to hear that, but this is just where I am at. I have wanted to go back to school, particularly to University, and stretch my learning muscles again, get back in to that environment where I can “try” some different things, and make mistakes. Where I have access to a counsellor, and I can drop classes, add classes, change my major, what have you (not to say that it would come to that). But I honestly don’t know what I want anymore, and I feel like I have spent a lot of time trying to be something I’m not, and I’ve literally exhausted myself in the process.

Some part of me has been trying to tell me for a long time that I’m not ready. It has been telling me to take a step back and become a student again, because in every way, that is what I am right now. So I’m just going to hang tight and see what happens. I’ve not given up – and I think that is something I have to remind myself of every day – that I have, in fact, done quite the opposite, and have held on tight to my own worth and to what I want for myself.

Until next time…

Where I will be.

 

 

Honey-Nut & Oat Granola Bars

I debated whether I should start posting my own, trial-and-error-discovered recipes on here for fear that it would turn in to another annoying (look at me, I make everything from scratch!) blog, that serves to annoy more than inspire, but… well, I’m risking it any way. To hell with you, fear monger! (who am I TALKING to?!)

Couldn’t resist…

Recently, I’ve really taken to making my own snacks. I like doing this because, in some embarrassingly major way, it helps give me a much stronger sense of control over my life – and plus, who doesn’t love guilt-free, delicious, easy to grab-and-go snacks?!

Granola bars are one of the things that I used to love snacking on, but slowly over time moved away from because so many of them are either full of sugar, or too dry and flavourless for my liking.

So, I began “research” recently (cue: stealing from others), and found several sites where others post their own trial-and-error, natural, sugar-free snack recipes and ideas. These ones I’m about to share with you, were adapted from this recipe on Minimalist Baker.com. I did very little to change it, but my process is a little different, and I was naughty (and by naughty, I mean AWESOME) and added a bit of dark chocolate on top!

I wanted a chewy, sweet, toasty, crunchy, healthy-delicious bar that I could have kicking around to grab whenever I wanted an easy, no fuss snack, and these really delivered! (Oh, and the boyfriend loved them and made all of the “these are delicious” sounds, and went back for seconds, so you know they rival the sugar-laden ones of the grocery store)

So, without further adieu…

(read through recipe before beginning, especially if you’re ADD like me)

Preheat oven to 350℉

Dry Ingredients:

1 1/2 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup whole raw almonds, roughly chopped (or sub in your favourite nut)
1 tbsp coconut oil (or canola)
Splash of maple syrup (to coat) (start with 1tbsp – do not SOAK)
Sunflower seeds

Melt coconut oil using a double boiler. Take off of heat once melted and toss in above ingredients (except for sunflower seeds if they are already roasted) to coat oats and nuts. Place on cookie sheet and roast in oven for 10-15 minutes.

In food processor, combine following ingredients:

Wet Ingredients:

4 medjool dates, pitted and chopped
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 cup natural peanut butter
1 1/2 tbsp honey (you can add more if you like it sweeter 😉
1-2 tbsp warm water (as needed to make it easier to work with)

Using spatula, spoon out mixture into bowl with the toasted granola. It will be very thick, but mix any way and allow heat from roasted oats and nuts to help warm the thick “wet” ingredients. Toss in a couple small handfuls of roasted sunflower seeds. It should have an almost dough like consistency when you’re done.

Pack mixture down into 8″ square glass pan (you can use a spatula or a flipper for this), cover with plastic wrap and put in the freezer for 15-20mins.

Melt 3-4 tbsp dark or semi-sweet chocolate using double-boiler.

Take the bars out of the freezer then pour chocolate over top and use a spatula to thinly coat the top. Throw back in freezer for 5-10 minutes. This gives you only a very thin layer of chocolate on top – so, nothing to worry about!

Take out and slowly/carefully use a knife or lifter to loosen entire thing from the pan (if it starts to crumble, throw back in freezer for another 5-10mins). Place on cutting board and cut in to 1 1/2″ wide strips using a large sharp knife. Cut strips in half.

Enjoy!

If you made it, modified it, loved it, or hated it – let me know in the comments 🙂

Happy Snacking!

Nerdview: Alto’s Adventure

Goodday Everyone,

Today I would like to share with you my latest, most favourite, super-relaxing before-bed ritual – playing Alto’s Adventure.

This Apple app-store game, while simple, is beautifully done and very relaxing to play. It isn’t extremely challenging or complicated, but it is fun never-the-less. Alto’s almost minimalistic style, calm-cool watercolour backgrounds, and soothing music work wonders to get me ready for sleep.

 

Playing Alto’s Adventure is also a great way to recharge during breaks in your day. You know – when you realize you’ve been hunched over your keyboard for the past five hours writing and re-writing, editing the s**t out of a design (only on the 16th save file!), or trying to perfect that recipe, and have begun to go cross-eyed – I find that Alto is a great way to focus on one simple, perfect thing for 10 or 15 minutes to clear your head.

Let’s talk about the gameplay. This is pretty straight-forward, you start at the top of a massive ski-hill in a side-scroller-style view. Your controls are easy, you click or tap to jump, and hold in mid-air to do a back flip. You can chain together tricks by jumping on to grinds, back-flipping or jumping off of them, and so on. It’s really not complicated. This, I think, is one of the best parts of the game. It’s simple, and fun – and that’s really all it needs to be.

As you progress through the game, you are given three simple “quests” at a time to complete in order to level up. This might be as simple as collecting so many coins, jumping over a rock three times in one run, or landing a couple double-backflips. Levelling up allows you to unlock other characters, that seem to all have unique skills.

Check out Izel, that crazy adrenaline junkie gadget-maker!

The music in the game – of which I refer to as “soothing-yet-sparkly”, is one of my favourite parts of the game. It is the perfect backdrop to being on this smooth, simplistic ski-hill, and honestly never gets boring despite being on a loop.

Here’s a sample of both the music and game-play:

 

And just in case you needed any more incentive to go get this awesome game, it’s only $2.99 on the Apple App Store. As an added bonus, they are working right now to bring the game to Android devices as well, so keep your eyes peeled for that if you don’t have an Apple device to play it on.

I personally play it on the Apple TV, but I’m sure it is a great game to play on your iPhone or iPad/tablet. I imagine, though, that the experience is a little different depending on the device you use. Playing it in bed on the Apple TV really allows for an immersive, relaxing experience, so if you’re interested in the game for the purpose of relaxation/meditation – because believe it or not, playing Alto’s Adventure can be a good time to work in some simple breathing meditation – than I would definitely suggest getting it for the Apple TV.

That’s it for today. Take care, everyone!

Reunion of Strangers

Hello everyone. I’m going to try to pepper in some humour, as I usually do, but this post may lean far more to the serious side than others – just a warning.

Pepper-in… Get it? Heh.

As you all know from my last two posts, I have begun to embark on a journey of self-discovery via seeking out my biological mother. In the past this is not something I ever thought I would do, nor would want to do. However, after continuously hitting many of the same “walls” in life, mostly in regard to relationships and identity (i.e. – what do I want to do for a career?), I decided with the help of a very talented psychologist that this might be something I want to explore.

At the very least, I realized that it could give me a better understanding of my heritage, and provide for me some sort of validation that I have yet to really find of my mere existence in this world.

Although I can not say that I’ve ever really thought of myself as “incomplete” or “yet to be fully born”, I can say that the experience of learning more about adoption and the issues common to adult adoptees has brought to the forefront, or made more extreme, the feelings I can have of floating in the ether of the world, not really belonging anywhere. I think part of the reason this never really bothered me before is that I’m OK floating in the ether and not “belonging”. If I continue to be a bit of a misfit that is fine with me. However, planting my feet firmly on the proverbial terra ferma of what is me, is looking to be crucial to my finding any success in the working world.

This is where I am going to change my focus to any fellow adoptees out there. I am going to be sharing a bit of my experience with you, just in case you are considering seeking out your birth family as well. There are feelings that seem to be fairly common during this time of discovery for all adoptees, so I am documenting them here to help enlighten you.

On Reunion 

I was talking to a good friend, and fellow adoptee earlier today. I refer to him sometimes, playfully, as my “brother from another adoptive mother”. We met in high school and have been good friends since. We don’t talk very often anymore, but have gone through a surprising amount together. I imagine part of what brought us together was our shared experience of being adopted. We had very different homes that we were raised in, for example; he grew up with a sister who was also adopted, whereas I grew up an only child. Also, my family was fairly well-off, whereas his lived a much more modest life.

Neither of us had an easy time of it, regardless. I realize now that our childhood and early youth were extremely turbulent. As a result, in a way, we are very close. Earlier this morning I confided in him that I am struggling a lot with this experience. I found my birth mother, and have since started correspondence with her via email. I told him that it has been an extremely odd experience thus far. It feels very surreal and distant, yet, I’m clearly in the thick of it.

Even as I write this – I may sound like I have all of my shit together, but believe me, I do not. I seem, even to myself, very disconnected to what is happening. However, the amount of emotions I’m experiencing and the questions that have arisen are overwhelming to a degree where half of the time I have no idea what is going on.

I’ve received several emails from my birth mother now, and yet, I still can’t believe that she is real. Hilariously, or sadly, or frighteningly, adoptees tend to experience much of life in this way. Where so many things can happen, or be said, yet just not be registered by the adoptee. Ask any of my previous partners, or even my adoptive parents and they can attest to this. Some things just do not sink in.

It’s okay sometimes, but as an adult, this phenomenon is just not acceptable, and frankly, very scary. In fact, it feels as if I’ve had some mild form of Alzheimer’s disease my entire life. There are people I know who can remember that “this” happened when they were “x” years old. I can very rarely, if ever, remember when in my history certain events happened. It’s frightening.

Any way… To get back to the story. In explaining to my friend what it feels like, I came up with what seems to be a very good analogy.

It’s like meeting a stranger who was in the same car accident you were in years ago, but in different cars. Neither of you knew the other was there, but when you meet, you feel connected because of that event. Because the event was traumatic, turbulent, and dramatic for both of you, meeting each other brings up all of these emotions, and in a way, takes you back to the event. Which, for anyone who suffers from PTSD, can be a very difficult thing to deal with.

If you have ever known anyone with PTSD related to something that happened to them – i.e. childhood abuse, being mugged, sexual abuse in college, war – whatever it happened to be, the smallest, seemingly unrelated content can trigger an “attack” that causes them to recall the event and experience the emotions and psychological distress of it over again. Can you imagine involuntarily experiencing extreme fear in response to something seemingly insignificant? Now, try to imagine getting over something in which EVERY DAY, something “common place” and seemingly innocuous triggers a panic attack. How does one “get on” with life when your trauma keeps slapping you across the face?

Now, imagine that you cannot even recall the event itself. How do you pinpoint when what you are feeling and experiencing is related to the thing that happened, versus what is happening right now? A boss at work makes a comment in jest that your brain registers as rejection, and immediately your heart starts preparing for the let down. Perhaps you start to distance yourself, leaving your boss and coworkers a little confused. Mistaking your being quiet and keeping to yourself as anti-social behaviour – “clearly she doesn’t want to be here”. Why keep seeking human interaction when you don’t even know how you might react?

Questions

Preparing to meet my birth mother, and possibly other biological family members, has brought up so many questions that tend to flash through my mind in fast succession. It’s as if they are too overwhelming to consider one at a time.

Questions like; What if the experience changes me? What if I feel more connected to my birth mother than my adoptive mother? What if I become more invested in having a relationship with her and my biological family, and creep them out? What if my half-siblings dislike me because I grew up having more than they did, because their mother – my birth mother, gave me up for adoption?

It’s a cacophony of questions, emotions, and confusion going on in my head right now. In many ways there are moments where I feel like I have regressed entirely. In others, it feels like my capacity for love, to be adult, and to be present in the moment is completely shot. I honestly have no idea what is going on.

There is also excitement. There are moments where I am very excited to learn more about my heritage. I even look forward to meeting my birth mother. However, the weight and depth of this experience is not lost on me. Although I know that this may not change me (even if I do worry that it will), I do know that this will change my life. It already has. Perhaps the reality of that is already sinking in.

I’ve had 3 panic attacks within the last month. They seem to come out of nowhere and mean nothing. I just feel like I am dying, I hyperventilate and cry. The first of the three was the most intense. I lost my hearing temporarily and came close to blacking out. I have started to recognize that panic attacks happen in this early phase of growth. I have experienced periods in my life where I become withdrawn, anxious, unable to cope with human interaction and have panic attacks. It seems to just be what I do when at the beginning of a transformation.

To any fellow adoptees out there who are reading this, I hope that my sharing some of my own experience with this helps you to at least prepare. Or maybe to recognize what you are going through and make it a little easier to deal with. The fact that I have been able to recognize that my panic attacks tend to happen during periods of extreme growth has helped me deal with them a little better.

In Summation

Life is hard. This experience has proven to be far more intense than I ever thought possible. Adoptees can be very good at shrugging things off and appearing like a serious situation is no big deal. However, when it comes to seeking and meeting your birth mother, there is no way to do that. You will not be able to, and should not attempt to shrug it off as “no big deal”. It is a big deal. As Nancy Verrier says, the biological connection between mother and baby is extremely primitive and really cannot be understood, but should not be denied.

It’s important for all involved in reunion to understand that finding your birth mother/parents has nothing to do with your adoptive parents. It’s about finding you, learning about your heritage and genetic history, and reconnecting to the person who gave birth to you.

Nancy Verrier quotes an adoptee who put it very well, she says:

“Mom and Dad, yes you are my Mom and Dad, but your ancestors are not my ancestors”

Incredible. Very on point. I had never really thought of it that way before, but that puts it in perspective in the best way possible.

Here is the first part of a 3-part interview with Nancy that does a great job of summarizing the issues, politics, and gravity of adoption that society often overlooks.

I think, as adoptees, we eat those feelings a lot. It had become common place for me, and probably is for most adoptees, to not care or to not be curious anymore about your genetic background after the 50th time you hear someone marvelling at a baby, and how much he or she looks like the mother or father. It gets tiresome, having people make comments about your heritage and having to say, “actually, I’m adopted”. You often get the, “Oh…”, response.

‘Cause why not?

Validation, Vindication & Awareness

The learning continues…

Today I want to talk more about my findings regarding the implications of adoption and trauma on the developing child, especially in regard to the adoptees tendency to disregard their importance, or to not feel valid.

This may go unnoticed as an issue by others. Oftentimes it is registered by others as a sense of callousness on the part of the adoptee. Ignorance as well, and rightly so. However, when dealing with an adoptee, especially when teaching them, it is very important to point these things out as what they are.

What they are, for an adoptee, is not ignorance or callousness so much so as a very deep-seated sense that they don’t matter. What I am beginning to understand about this is that this seemingly natural, or “default setting” is due to the fact that an adoptees very first experience in the world was of immediate separation from mother, of (oftentimes – although I am unsure in my own case) crying for the mother to no avail. This very first learning experience taught the brain that they have no affect.

You may be wondering, then, why I titled this post “Validation, Vindication and Awareness”. Well, as well as sharing what I am learning by reading “Coming Home to Self: The Adopted Child Grows Up” by Nancy Verrier (see this post for the first in this “series”), I am also trying to share my experience of it. At times there is an overwhelming sense of anxiety in learning about the real affects of that initial separation. It is registered by the brain as trauma. However, in learning about this, and connecting the dots, it has brought so much validation to my own confusion about how I have behaved and felt my entire life.

The vindication comes in the form of Nancy, the author of the book, who eventually speaks directly to the adoptee (or reader), stating that it is okay, that you have indeed been misunderstood, and that she is there to help fight for you. Even today, despite all of the research, the importance of the initial bonding between natural mother and child is downplayed to a frightening degree (even in families where the child is not put up for adoption – i.e. a mother who returns to work immediately after birth). This is why the process of adoption is never thought of as a traumatic experience. There are many many other reasons, many of them political, emotional and otherwise, but oftentimes adoptees issues go unnoticed and the vindication is just not there that something is wrong that has nothing to do with who they are.

So, unlike in the case of someone who has been diagnosed with depression, bi-polar disorder, or as agoraphobic (although those people still face a lot of doubt and ridicule from others), adoptees issues go without name. Sure, there may be suspicions, sometimes people who are not very aware of or sensitive to the gravity of emotions involved in the adoption triad may ask upon learning about it “does it bother you?” (this question is most often directed at the adoptee, but can also be directed at the other two members of the triad), or, “do you know anything about the real mom?”.

Meanwhile, aside from those often inappropriate but clearly uneducated questions, the question of “have you researched the affects of adoption on development and mental health?” (which is the the question I believe should be asked to every single person in the adoption triad before the process even begins) goes unasked. If that is not possible, then it certainly should be asked of the adoptee once they are old enough to understand the material, especially if confusing issues arise.

This brings to me awareness. Along with the help of my psychologist, I am beginning to understand what parts of my development have been natural, and which stages, or rather, reactions to those stages, have been a little off kilter. For example, while it is known that all teenagers become quite unruly, the idea that ALL teenagers do to an extreme degree is a myth. Not all teenagers, as soon as puberty hits, immediately pulls away from their parents. It is the lack of mirroring during this stage of life that can really cause an adoptee teen to reject their adoptive family.

This is helping me to detach myself from those behaviours, and to start seeing that a lot of the developmental issues that arose during my growth were not ME, but the trauma. This awareness will be extremely helpful in starting to separate dysfunction from self. This could also help strengthen the bonds between adoptee and adoptive parents, as it sheds light on some of the hurtful behaviours that may have been exhibited in the earlier parts of life. In this way it is understood that it wasn’t the adoptee, nor the adoptive parents, it was simply behaviour as a means of communicating the unresolved loss and trauma inside.

All very serious stuff. I have tried to pepper in some humour, as humour, I find, can help in the learning process. It’s not just a great way to bring levity to an uncomfortable moment or topic 😉  Learning should be fun.

That is all for today. There is still a lot to learn, and nothing will change overnight. Things like bad drivers, inconsiderate people and ignorance will continue to annoy and disappoint us. For now, though…

The Adopted Adult (trys) to Grow Up

Hello all,

That’s right, I’m baaaaaaaaack.

I didn’t even like The Shining. Sorry, Kubrick.

So, as I’m sure you can see, this blog has slowly devolved to become a glorified, shiny, printed, open journal-of-sorts. Quite frankly, I no longer give a fuck (lies). Any way…

I lost another job (wah-wahhh), but, although it was still a major bummer, I did care less this time (progress?). I think, no, I know I dealt with it a lot better because instead of bawling my eyes out and thinking “what am I going to tell the boyfriend?!”, as well as saying fuck a few times and then apologizing profusely to some coworkers (maybe that’s a bit of a clue), I just basically listened patiently to their bullshit story until I couldn’t stomach any more of it, told them that I disagreed with their reasoning, and in very highfalutin political jargon essentially said “this is bullshit”, then asked to leave…

Boo-ya!

I did break a little and cried when I said goodbye to one of the sweetest coworkers I’ve ever had, but that was it. I went home and cried some more, but moreso out of exhaustion than anything. Really, is there anything worse after a long job search than having to search again after only a month and a half of employment? Not really. In the end, though, I ended up feeling mostly like that snazzy guy in the picture above.

Soon before I lost the job, I started seeing a psychologist. Originally, that was for reasons completely unrelated to work, (it was mostly due to my own seeming inability to feel secure in a relationship) – but it has slowly evolved to be about a whole lot more. I think it’s a good thing.

Most of you probably don’t know that I was adopted. In fact, most of you probably think, OK, so what? Well, that’s what I used to think, as well. However, having come to my “wits end”, in regard to all things identity and attachment in my adult life, I have started to consider the implications of adoption and how it may affect the adoptee in adulthood. Upon further investigation, it has become clear that I am struggling to “get my shit together” like many adult adoptees do, due to issues with identity, self-worth and attachment.

Yup, that’s right. Shit’s gettin’ real. You see, I’m far too smart to be struggling like this. That’s RIGHT, I am owning something, and at this point it is my intelligence. Losing jobs, lacking direction, pushing people away… This will not lead me to the life I desire, nor to the success that I KNOW I could achieve and enjoy.

I know I spoke earlier of starting another blog for the health and wellness stuff. I thought about starting a whole new blog to talk about my findings in regard to adoption, and if I do decide to meet my birth relatives, about reunion. However, this blog is the one I am most proud of. I know, with a title like Ballbag and Taint, mothers everywhere are cringing at the thought of their own daughter proudly at the helm of such a thing, but this sort of humour, language and rawness is the closest, most purest “Me” to have yet graced this planet (aside from that time where I mooned the fine establishment that was my high school).

Gloryyy!

To elaborate a bit – adoptees grow up lacking something extremely primitive that everyone who grows up in their natural family take for granted – genetic cues. Now, I don’t have all of the info on this yet in order to use some awesome science-y jargon to explain it, but, essentially, this is like asking a calculator to find an answer for you without you giving it all of the information it needs. This is by no means the fault of the adoptive parents, but this lack of information happens regardless of their love and support, and literally cannot be avoided due to the fact that the biological relatives are not around AT ALL.

Also, there is a subtle lack of validation to your existence when little things like facial similarities, hair colour, eye colour, gait, body language, scent, talents and preferences are not there to be mirrored back to the developing child as they grow. This is not information that is very consciously absorbed by us as we grow, but it does help, in a subtle way, to validate one’s existence. This is why many adoptees, especially as adults, often have trouble with identity and self-worth. In fact, many of us, including myself, often have trouble acknowledging that we have any value. In some ways, it is a foreign idea as we did not have that primitive validation as a child.

On the much more uncomfortable topic of attachment, well, aside from the obvious – the trauma of the initial separation of baby from mother at birth, the adoptee grows up facing many “relinquishments” or rejections. Especially if the adoptive family is very different from the adoptee, there can be so much misunderstanding, confusion, and hurt in the raising of the child that rejection just becomes a part of their being. You can see how this could affect the adult adoptee when it comes to relationships and career (*cough, cough* – being fired many times).

Nancy Verrier, a psychologist, author, mother, and adoptive mother, has written two books on the subject. The first being “The Primal Wound”, and the second being “Coming Home to Self”. She talks about how the initial trauma of the separation creates pathways in the brain that are based on the trauma of being relinquished at birth. She goes on to point out that adoptees often display traits very similar to those who suffer from PTSD. The major difference being that we (adoptees) tend to think that the PTSD version of ourselves IS, in fact, who we are, because there is no pre-trauma personality. I found this very interesting, mostly because it makes so much sense. As a result, so many adoptees are diagnosed with ADD as a child, due to their always being in a state of “hyper vigilance”.

Let me take a moment here to clarify a little what hypervigilance often feels and looks like, because the use of the word “hyper” here can be very misleading. In my own experience, it’s not an abundance of energy, or an extreme cognizant sense of “something bad is going to/could happen at any moment”, so much as a paralyzing fear so deep that it simply impairs ones ability to make decisions, to lose oneself in a project, task or hobby, or to do something that would distract one from being able to constantly, albeit passively, observe their surroundings. 

As you can well imagine, this hypervigilance (which is essentially just this stupid cloud that fogs up the brain), can really get in the way of forming a personality. If you are unable to stay focused for very long on anything, it’s hard for it to really sink in. This applies to learning, as well. In fact, it has been my experience that this hypervigilance makes learning that much harder when the intent is to learn. It seems that learning is much easier for someone who is constantly in a state of hypervigilance when it happens by accident. I can only assume this is because the adoptee then doesn’t realize they are no longer passively observing their surroundings. Instead, they have switched to a state of passively learning.

That’s a complicated topic, for sure. I am only just beginning to put some of the pieces together, here, so bear with me.

I will not delve too much further in to it today. I only just started reading Coming Home to Self last night. There are a lot of parallels between adoptees and those with PTSD, and those who dealt with trauma during childhood, like sexual abuse, which I will try to correlate and explain in a later post (mostly to do with self-blame). For now, here is a long, but really great lecture on adoption that you can watch on YouTube.

That’s all for now, bitches!

The Sorcery of Life

Hello, my friends. It has been a while… I’ve been dealing with a lot of stressors on my end – an ill elderly family member (now in Hospice), starting a new SHITTY part-time job, E.I. running out, and a move into a house with three other people. So, its been fun.

What I wanted to talk about today was the SORCERY OF LIFE!

By which I mean, how much can change in a year.

I’m sure you’ve all heard the story before… A year ago she was ambitious and positive, starting a new job, a “career” even! Then all of life’s unfairness reared its ugly head and reality set in. Call it balance, if you desire… But as you may already be able to see, even my writing isn’t as colourful (okay, forceful and angry) as it was before, because the truth is, life has been such a huge bag of suck ever since I lost my job in August that I feel the major lesson that I have learned in the past year has been that I suck and everyone else sucks and there is nothing I can do about it!

The sob story:

Simply put, I faced a year of what felt very much so like many betrayals. First, I lost my job. Sorry, was fired from my job – my first “real” job, in a manner that some may call… unfortunate. I will put it to you this way, the first date went a lot like this “yeah I like you, I’m really feeling this, I think this is going somewhere – I’ll totally call you” (otherwise known as the Friday meeting with “the boss” before the weekend), and the second date when something like this – “Yeah, um… This isn’t working out, I don’t want to see you anymore” (otherwise known as the Monday – after lunch, no less, after the aforementioned weekend). Followed by an “did you really not see this coming”?

Second, I got in to a major fight with my long-time gym over a “membership” that I foolishly started paying for after having lost my job. It was a really disappointing experience, actually. I know – you’re thinking I was played like so many people – well, they tried, but sadly my story isn’t the typical membership-cancellation-gone-wrong story. You see, I was being overly optimistic, and decided to pursue a year’s membership. I think it was going to be about $90 a month. Any way… After I started paying for this membership, I realized it was a huge mistake.

Now, this gym is a family run, small-business in the town I grew up in. It was the first place I had EVER started working out in. I wasn’t even into sports as a kid. I became very close with the owners and the regulars that went there (it was mostly classes and personal training there, as it wasn’t a traditional gym with a huge floor of equipment – and I actually prefer that), and it played a huge role in helping me to establish a more health-conscious lifestyle.

Quick Note: I didn’t start working out to lose weight, get a sexy six pack or a lifted buttocks. I started working out to help regulate my metabolism (I struggle occasionally with low blood sugar), for the energy boost, and to establish healthy habits NOW, so that I can maintain good physical health and fitness well into the “golden” years. It’s muscle conditioning. The aesthetic benefits are great, and I can assure you, if you’re doing it right (lift weights whether you’re male or female, DO IT!), than you cannot possibly avoid the aesthetic benefits – but do it to keep your muscles “awake” and “ready”. When you’re older (and hopefully have more money and time than you do/did in your twenties), you will be so grateful for your energy and mobility. Trust me!

Anyway, back to the story… On top of that, I live in the city now, and the “commute” to the gym was taking me upwards of 45mins to an hour to get there. The drive back could be as little as 25mins, but it was costing me in gas and making it difficult to make it to the classes I wanted.

So I emailed them, apologizing out the rear. I was prepared to pay a fee for cancelling the membership, and explained the whole reasoning to them. They already knew that I had lost my job, so I figured it wouldn’t be a complete surprise to them. What I was returned with was a guilt-trip, and a proposed “solution” to cancel it with a $25 admin fee – and… wait for it, the paid equivalent of a half-year membership (which would have been like $600).

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I cried. I called my Mom. I cried some more. I re-read the email, rubbing my eyes and trying to understand what had just happened. People who had almost become like family to me had responded completely coldly to my very apologetic request, as if I were nothing to them.

Thus began the fight. Here is where my story is actually quite different – thankfully, they were stupid. When I “signed” up for this membership, I hadn’t actually signed anything at all. So after some extensive research in to consumer rights, and a phone call to the consumer rights help line, I had all the ammo I needed to basically prove to them that I didn’t owe them a thing. The reality was that I literally did not owe them anything, because they had neglected to inform me that I would need to log on to the website they used to take down my info, and then confirm that I signed up for it. This was also two and a half months in to having this “membership”. Two months and they did not email me or mention anything to me when I was there that I still had not hit “accept”.

I know, it was stupid on my end to not be curious as to what the “terms and conditions” of the contract were earlier on, but I was comfortable with them and figured it was all legit, and that their cancellation policy would not be as ludicrous as a “buyout”.

So that hurt, too.

On top of that, I have had to deal with a health issue, myself. And then money problems etc. The shit has piled high! So I’ve noticed that I’m almost the exact opposite shade of what I was this time last year.

This time last year I was quite positive, energy-filled, optimistic about work, creative, self-assured etc. Now, in only one year, I see the negative in everything. I’m untrusting, I’m not lethargic or anything, but I’m by no means “bursting” with energy. I am not at all optimistic about my work future, and although I am not self-loathing, I’m not self-celebrating, either.

Self-celebrating – good term. As long as people don’t sully it by likening it with masturbation.

Aaaand sullied.

So, to return to the title and main focus of this week’s (or should I say, this quarter’s?) post, the sorcery of life is ever baffling.

I think it’s safe to say that I’m doing a lot of growing and developing right now, even if it doesn’t feel like it – and that’s a great thing, but you always feel like you’re in no-mans-land when you’re in this shroud.

I’m in a rut, yo. I probably need a challenge of sorts, but I’m not sure what that is yet. I clearly need a better job than the one I have, but who knows where.

Podcast is still in the back of my mind – and, surprise! I’m going to be hosting a games night at my comic book shop on Saturday nights starting in May. Of course – it wasn’t something that I had previously considered doing or even talked about doing, but this is typically how I roll. I say I’m going to do one thing and then I turn around and do something completely different.

On that note, I think it’s time to wrap this up. Talk to you fuckers later!