Last night my friend Airdrie lost her best friend and her husband while the Vancouver blogging / social media community also lost the same great man, Derek Miller passed away after a valiant fight with Cancer.

Today is one of those days where I grapple with the magnitude of blogging and just how much someone can touch you via words on a screen. Nothing tangible, no pages to turn.

Before 2008, I knew of Derek, I read his blog I followed him on Twitter, I admired him greatly; it was hard not to given how open he was about his battles with Cancer. #fuckcancer

At the beginning of March ‘08 I took a lot of pills and went across the street for an off-sales bottle of wine and downed it which sealed my lackluster attempt at a suicide and I found myself in the hospital. I’ve never denied how selfish of a disorder depression is. And although I received a great deal of support, more than I could have hoped for given some of the circumstances, when I came upon this post written for me by this man that I respected for his strength, courage and his fighting spirit – trying to put into words what it meant to me is almost impossible. Someone who knew they were going to die, someone facing eminent death took the time to reach out and publicly support me. I found it to be and still do consider it one of the most selfless things anyone has ever done for me.

I met Derek that following December, I b-lined for him when I saw him so I could finally thank him in person. I’m glad I have this photo below, my social anxiety kept me from most events where I would have had an opportunity to have gotten to know him better.

photo courtesy of Raul on Flickr

I end this with great sadness he is gone, with sincerest condolences to Airdrie and to the rest of his family and friends but also from a place of peace knowing that he touched so many people.

You can read Derek’s last words here, if you experience technical difficulties due to traffic there is a cached version of it located here instead.

And last but not least #FUCKCANCER.

This comment has stuck with me. It’s been bugging me. I guess I don’t understand why anyone would read or follow my tweets if they hate me. I also don’t really know why when I’ve clearly separated myself out from the Vancouver Social Media scene why I’m STILL a hot hate topic. I have made some friendships with people inside the scene but I hang out with them outside of it.

It makes me feel bitter and bullied, like people are just sitting back and waiting for me to lose it, hospital style. If I get upset to any degree on any public forum, including my blog, it feels like I can’t just be upset, it feels like the haters are sitting in anticipation of when they can declare that I haven’t changed.

I have a temper, no matter how hard I work on myself I’m always going to have a temper but I’m not going to blog from the perspective of forcing all the progress I’ve made down people’s throats, I simply write how I feel on whatever medium I’m on. If you have to ask yourself why someone would be as open as I am about my life, and my trials and tribulations then you aren’t my target audience.

Normally I wouldn’t even address this because it feels like I’m defending myself, but I’m feeling pretty down right now. I suppose it only makes sense, to me anyway, given the posts from January that I am feeling a certain amount of insecurity online. I make a point of not checking my stats unless I’m under attack, which I was and so I know that my parents are stalking both my blog and my twitter page. I don’t know if they think this will intimidate me into not posting and if they think it’s been working, when in reality I’ve been super busy with a new kitty who came to us with some health issues which lead to me being pretty down and having a tough time going from taking care of my sick old best furry buddy to taking care of a sick kitten with no one but myself to blame for my emotions. Feeling like I got a new kitty too soon but knowing I couldn’t give up on the little guy. Breaking down somedays out of emotional exhaustion and feeling like a fucking loser because it was triggered by cats. But coming home to an empty apartment after Christmas was hard on us both. I had no way of knowing, thinking we were rescuing a healthy cat, which was naive in and of itself, that the wee Roy Kucing being a bit sick for over half the time we’ve had him would take an emotional tole. I do have an introductory post for Roy in drafts but never got it finished.

I would also be a flat out liar if I were to proclaim that certain aspects of things happening or rather not happening with my immediate family weren’t bothersome. The fact that I’ve made three attempts to obtain my grandmother’s new address and phone number and have been ignored on all fronts. But yet my parents stalk my site. It makes me sick. Regardless of what is going on between my parents and claims that I never contact this woman and then refusing to let me contact her when she’s dying doesn’t even make sense to me. It certainly isn’t making me want to have any sort of civil conversation with them, but if they actually think I’d bring any of this up to my almost 89 year old dying grandmother, fuck it, I can’t even entertain these ideas because it simply makes my blood boil. The fact that they are stalking me instead of giving me a simple fucking address speaks volumes to me.

For me, right now, I’m dealing with the fact that I AM dealing with things. I’m dealing with feelings. I’ve never kept it a secret on here that I’ve abused prescription drugs in the past. This has gotten me into A LOT of trouble online and in my personal life. It made me feel invincible and I got behind a computer screen a few too many times under the influence and well, I think the majority here know how the rest of that story goes. Even this time last year I couldn’t sit in my feelings. That is why it is ok if I simply do sit in my feelings and don’t exercise, don’t read, don’t write, just sit, I can’t do it forever but it’s where I’m currently at: because at least I’m sitting at least I’m not fucked up on a stash of clonazepam and seroquel. Having real feelings is a trip, it has allowed for many breakthroughs with my psychiatrist but it is incredibly hard at times. I’m used to freaking out and then freaking out some more with maybe a bit more freak out thrown in for good measure but not freaking out means the pain has to go somewhere and if it isn’t going into the drugs and it isn’t going into freaking out then where it is going is where I’m going right now and those places suck balls but if I don’t go to them then I can never get better, I will never know if I can be one of the lucky ones who does recover from this at times debilitating illness.

This morning when I woke up feeling suicidal and outed myself with my dailybooth photo I was glad to find myself with words not going straight to draft because I won’t suffer in silence, I will put it out there so that I don’t do stupid shit and end up in the hospital again or have friends running around trying to find me and contacting Adam and afraid for my safety because I know having lost someone who stayed silent and from the life I’ve lead that if there is one thing I’m not no matter how shitty I feel is alone in this and if I have to put my pain out on the internet to keep myself here then I’m going to put it out on the fucking internet and haters gonna hate no matter what, but the people who love me are also still going to love me.

It is hard for me to believe that by the time I push publish on this at sometime tomorrow that Gus will already be gone. Adam and I picked the photos for this memorial post a couple weeks ago now, to make it easier to post it. I wasn’t sure if I was going to write anything or not, by my mind is moving at a million miles an hour. How am I going to walk without keeling over to the vet’s office? And how am I supposed to walk back in the apartment with an empty carrier and no kitty to greet me?

It has been incredibly hard trying to figure out exactly when to do this. If this was about us we could probably keep her around for another two or three months, but it is about her. She is in pain and I don’t know how I knew, given that I am not a religious person maybe it is that I do have a spiritual side. In my gut, I knew that I would know when it was time, that she’d let me know in her own way, and when she jumped up onto my lap on Wednesday morning and didn’t purr at all, I knew. No matter how crappy she has been feeling over the past few months she has always kept purring. It took me a couple hours to muster the courage to call but I had to.

I’m not a person who has had to deal with a lot of death in my life. Animal wise, people wise. I have not had to deal with death since 2003. I remember how I felt, parts of it, and I’m dreading it. Especially given that Gus has no say in this. I’m keeping the promise I made to myself and the promise I made to her, that I wouldn’t let her suffer. Part of me feels like I have left it too long but on the other she is still *happy* which has only added to the difficulty.

She led a great life and we went through many a gauntlet together, other than Adam she had never really taken to anyone else very much, but a few were able to win her over. Being the runt of the litter she always had bizarre ways of letting you know you’d made her inner circle, such as drooling on you or giving you a quick chin or nose lick. There are so many things I can’t imagine living without, little things, like the sound of her paws when she’d walk across the hardwood, when she’d purr so hard and drool so much it would soak her nose, so many kisses on my nose and chin I’d have to stop her because it would hurt after a few. Watching her and Adam curled up sleeping together on the couch. All the things that annoyed the shit out of me like her pushing her face under my books all the time so I couldn’t read, I’m going to miss that now.

I’m not sure who is luckier, you all reading this or me that the scanner is broken so the only photos of Gus are ones taken since I started Blogging in 2005. If it were working I’d probably be scanning in kitten photos like mad.

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November 6, 2010

We are home. Today dragged and then it flew. I’m riding the shock wave, hoping it lasts a while I’m not really ready for it to sink in. She was ready but not past ready and even though she is gone, I’m glad she went before she wasn’t recognizable as Gus anymore. I feel completely detached right now so saying anything much else isn’t going to enlighten me to this loss and what it means. I just know for that for a long time that for sixteen years she was the best cat I could have ever asked for. I can’t even imagine how much I’m going to miss her.

You were so loved little buddy R.I.P. Gus.

What originally kept me interested in reading Bob’s blog and following him on Twitter was that I could live vicariously through a lot of his Flickr photos. We both enjoy a lot of the same out door activities but I’m not currently in a position to enjoy them like he is. Bob’s landscape photography always captured me and took me back to good memories from my past, hiking, camping, skiing, made me yearn for those days. Each photo always reminds me how much I miss those sides of myself but reaffirm that they are still there, just tucked away for later.

I learned of Bob’s plans to build his own site, sell his landscape prints and add portrait / headshot photographer onto his resume of services offered. Given that I liked his photos so much I asked if he needed any models for his portfolio, he said yes, I own some nice Betsey Johnson dresses so away we went.

We’d both always wanted to do the whole Vancouver Gastown alley graffiti shoot. We did just that and the set can be viewed here, I wanted to take this post, for the most part to highlight Bob’s work in general and mention about how it meant a lot having him take my photos after having followed his work and growth as a photographer for over two years via the wonders of Flickr.

Bob knew he wanted me in the blue dress but still looking pretty natural which was fine with me, I don’t have a live in hair and make-up artist anymore, so I winged it. The evening itself was super fun, it didn’t take me long to relax, Bob does have a very naturally calming personality, he is very respectful. He wants his shot how he envisions it but he does make sure you are fully comfortable with whatever ideas may pop into his head beyond what is already pictured on the film reel of his brain while planning the shoot.

It was really great getting to help someone start building something towards their passion, it was a pleasure to work with Bob and I would of course recommend him for any of your headshot or portrait session needs! Do check out his site and enjoy the photos I’ve posted here they are a just a few of my personal favourites.

If you like what you see here be sure and join Bob’s new Facebook group for his photography site.

These photos are all property of Bob Lai Photography and have been used with the permission of the photographer.

They inquire:

How do I deter squirrels from ruining my outdoor furniture cushions, this is the second set they’ve destroyed? the squirrels have used their claws to open up the fabric then they have proceded to tear out the stuffing to use for their nests.

Well, for ONE I would recommend maybe, I don’t know, taking them the fuck inside at night. Other than that I have no idea.

To the dismay of Gus who likes blow up mats, we are empty nesters again, our guest Phaeds & her sock monkey Bobby have gone to their new place (woot congrats again buddd-dy) and with that means Dr. Vegas is basically alone and he is depressed. This makes almost no sense; he used to despise and spend almost all of his time plotting ways to eliminate other members of the army and now he is friends with some and is so depressed he can hardly sit up. He’s gone soft on us, I’d almost go as far as to call him a bit of a pussy, Adam says I can’t call him a pussy but I can say he is ‘acting like a pussy’.

Before:

(from left: Ho Chi Pimp, Bobby, Dr. Vegas)

After:

My intestines / ass haven’t been the same since I ended up in hospital so now I have to have a barium enema on July 20. Two people over 50 have told me they are not a big deal and Dr. Buttle (my shrink) figures it is IBS brought on by stress. I will save you the details of exactly what is going on but it isn’t pretty or pain free, it is also frustrating as I am pretty tired of things going wrong with my ass.

We we riding bikes in Stanley Park one day and we came across this gator and being they are my favourite animals on earth (YES, more than cats) I first of all could not believe I hadn’t seen it or heard about it being in there before, nor did I expect to end up in an epic death roll, thankfully I was wearing my bike helmet, I think I pissed it off while feigning to surf on its’ nose.

Some sad news, Narco didn’t make it, I have yet to find out what happened to the little guy nor do I know if any more cygnets have been born, I need a break from the heartache. The Lagoon has been waiting for eight years now for a cygnet to make it and it seems unlikely yet again this year. Hope I’m wrong on that one but none of the nature photographers I know who follow the cygnets as closely and some closer than I do have had new photos up.

R.I.P little Narco buddy.

FUNNY STORY TIME!!

I did something TODAY that I have wanted to do for YEARS but never had the balls to do. I only need to tell you a tiny bit of back story.

One of the penthouses in the building across from us faces straight into our living room and bedroom. When we first moved in here in 2004 out of my tiny bachelorette from down the hall the most interesting off all the new neighbors to make up life stories for was the lesbian couple in the penthouse mentioned, she barbecued year round and generally wore some form of work out wear or what could be considering gardening clothes but she never had a garden up there just a motion sensor light for the barbecue. When they moved out maybe a year and a half ago now I was actually sad. I felt comfortable naked in here and she was very entertaining and beyond fun to make up theoretical scenarios for, especially in the summer when her and her girlfriend would take to the patio with red wine in white robes. We even called them our lesbians. Since they moved out they haven’t been able to keep the place occupied. There are constant open houses and from the first one I mentioned to Adam that I wanted to go. I think he thought I was insane. But WHY NOT??? If not just to see exactly how much can be seen from there, ALL my curiosity surrounding what it looks like in there would be solved, and not only that, knowing what it looks like will I’m sure make it about ten times more fun to make up stories about future buyers. A couple days ago the latest owners moved out and while Adam and friend where out on a ride around the Sea Wall I could hear voices. I looked out the window and there is was another open house. Unwashed and with greasy hair I decided it was time to giver a go. I put on an outfit that at least covered my tattoos but had to leave flip-flops on because I’m sporting a blister the size of a grape right now on my heel and have to be in heels at a wedding next weekend so shoes are out for me right now and headed out giggling to myself as I walked down the stairs. I crossed the street and up to the penthouse I went, I walked in to see what appeared to be serious lookers and quickly scanned the area. WHOA way smaller than it looks from the outside for one. SHOCKING what $685,000 will buy you. I talked to the realtor telling him my parents lived in Bali (true) and were looking for a place to buy when they are back in the city for extended times for visits. (lie) Somewhere I ended up throwing in that I was thirty-two (true) because I could sense my youthful looks where throwing him. He said and I kid you not, “I was going to say this open house is for nineteen and over” NIIIIIIICE lately youngest someone has guessed is twenty-two (true) and they said they were being generous it was on the Fringe set. I walked out onto the balcony and looked into our place and could see the bike and the fan, I had left the blinds down but instantly confirmed that not only could you see in here you could probably see the zits on our asses if you looked carefully enough. As I walked back across the street feeling triumphant I instantly texted Adam with ‘I just did the craziest thing ever you are going to be so jealous’. I brought a pamphlet home so at least he can see what it looks like up there but I have been in there now. Awesome. And Adam is, totally jealous.

I’d also like to mention that I’m writing for a new site now called ThinkHero if you like sci-fi / comic books, movies, television, anime and video games then you should check it out. It is more of the sci-fi / supernatural / horror / action movies and shows type website with video reviews than romance and dramas. So far I have written an introduction piece which talks briefly about working as a production assistant on season 2 of Fringe and I will have an opinion piece on one of my favourite shows up soon. I’m excited to have somewhere new to write. Being that it is an American site out of Los Angeles I’m hoping the audience will grow fond of the wee Canadian and her opinions and such from Hollywood North. I’m still a bit nervous to say the least.

In 2004 my mother started to deal with her own depression issues but because I was so depressed, up until I went to Bali I never noticed. She was just mom, a bit mopey but being in such similar states I didn’t see just how much of a struggle she was having I just knew we were both struggling. But when I went to Bali I was in a really good place, one of the best places I have been in mentally since I started to seriously deal with my mental illness. It was on that trip that I saw just how depressed my mom was/ is, I’m not 100% sure with them so far away how she is really doing but I was flabbergasted. It was like staring myself in the face. One day she was ok happy in great spirits, the next totally quiet, not very responsive or interested in conversation BUT trying her very best to enjoy every moment she had with me, which I appreciated more than I think she knows because seeing her like that, I knew how much she hurt, how badly she wanted to be happy and chipper and YAY lets all drink Bintang Birs and be a family again. But some days she just couldn’t muster it and I understood, I understood her better than I think I ever had. It also made apparent the work I had done to have been in a head space so positive I only had two bad days where I thought please no, I don’t want to be depressed, please let this day be just that – a bad day – and I didn’t do anything stupid.

When I returned from Bali, I was still in a great place. After all that happened with my parents around this time last year it was just nice to feel like I had a family again. But with anything in life there are challenges and we are always left to make our own decisions as to how we deal with them leaving those around us to try and define, interrupt, perceive correctly or incorrectly what we are actually doing or saying. And in my opinion no matter how hard you work on yourself mentally ill or not you are bound to fuck up at times, sometimes worse than others resulting in steps backwards. With myself, when I feel myself slipping when I think I’m gonna lose it I slip right back into what I want least to become – what or who people perceive me to be, a sort of a typecast if you will. With anything that happens in life that leaves you feeling negative it is going to have triggers that set your blood on *temperature setting* HELL. It’s hot, it hurts, it burns, tears just sear the pain in further. And what would you know it, last Friday almost losing a friendship brought the asshole I’d been playing; no excuses to make, only the glaring assholy facts. I just wanted to cry and get high. Oh right I did. It has been a long time since I have gotten myself so worked up that I had a full sleepless night of night terrors, and three straight days of prescription drug abuse to say I was wasted would be an understatement, I’ve already been warned I abused them enough in the past that I could have a heart attack during an episode and even that can’t stop the beast. By Tuesday I was still a fucking wreck crying uncontrollably, mentally double fisting myself in the face, so mad at myself, fire retardant anger pants where the only saviour I had. Between yesterday and today I have regained my sanity. I’m still pretty pissed at myself but I’m not known for going easy on me. But for the record, I’m done. I’m not over it, I haven’t let it go, but I’m done allowing myself any inappropriate behavior towards this situation I’m dealing with regularly in therapy. I’ve been working so hard on this I even read a bloody self help book. I’m going to get there, I’m just going to KEEP my big girl pants on now. Fuck this high school shit, tricks are for kids.