Sports Anxiety II

I seem to take these 4-month breaks, but I’m writing just to check in. The reason for that extended break is that for a while, 3 women wouldn’t talk to me and that got me down on myself again, enough so that I was close to a (9). I didn’t even want to write about it because I’m just so sick of the same thing over and over and fucking over again. That was back in October. It’s been an interesting ride ever since.

The Hockey

So in the last post back in September, I mentioned about the numbers and my little obsession with them. My regular season stats was a goals against average of 5.10 and a goals allowed of 51. Both are league-leading or worst, depending on how you look at it, but I also tied in points (assists in this case) with one. At the same time, I had goal support of 58, so I didn’t like the fact that my team was bailing me out. It makes me look like a shit goalie compared to the others.

I also mentioned that I was nervous about a game against a team wearing pink. Well, no need to worry because we won…a whopping 10-2. As someone who was still pretty new to the game, it was nerve-wracking because I was never on the giving end of a blow out; I was usually the one getting blown out. It was weird because my anxiety was up in that game, and my legs wouldn’t want to work and I was second-guessing my abilities (more on that later). But, we won, move on.

The Game 3

The following game was actually my favourite in the entire season because I went up against a goalie named Jonathan Bernier. Now, to the non-hockey fans, there’s a Jonathan Bernier playing for the Toronto Maple Leafs, my favourite team growing up (their current results in the past few weeks have not been helping my depression issues…). Obviously, it’s not the NHLer Jonathan Bernier I went up against, but some guy with the same name who just happens to play goalie as well. We beat that team 5-2, so for the rest of my life, I get to say that I beat Jonathan Bernier…I just won’t mention which one. ;)

The Game 4

I had a shit game the next week, losing 8-7. I was so mad at myself because we managed to tie with 17 seconds left, and I blew another goal within that time. That was just pathetic. I remember not feeling that great mentally that night, but that shouldn’t be an excuse. I also work Saturday mornings, and I would come back home for a nap. Can’t remember if I did that day, but still not an excuse.

The Game 5

The next game was a bizarre one. We lost again 6-4, but I was okay with it. I had a hell of a first period and was totally in the zone. The problem was, it was the start of reading week and we only had one line so it was all six of us against a team able to substitute players. Funny incident, we were on a delayed penalty and one strategy was to pull the goalie for an extra attacker because the whistle goes when the penalized team touches the puck. So I’m skating hard to the bench….and then I see that no one is there….at the blue line. D’oh….

Anyways, we were leading 4-0 by the middle of the game, when the other team stormed back and took advantage of our fatigue. My thinking was, what can you do about that? Most of our team were already out of town for the break, so I was okay with that loss.

The Games 6, 7, 8, & 9

The rest of the team was back in the next game, where we won 6-3. I spoke to one of the players on the opposing team a few days ago and he said I’ve lost weight and improved so much since I first started a year and change ago. That really helped with my confidence in general. We won again the following week against a team we should’ve easily beat, 7-5. It was around here that the core of my team stopped playing defense and decided to hot dog and show off. We did not deserve to win that game.

Same thing happened next game, but I think I also put some pressure on myself because this was the same team we lost to 6-4 without a team, so the ones who were there definitely wanted some payback. No dice, but at the same time, we were also hot dogging like we were in the past game. More of the same the next game where we lost 5-1. I remember I had no chance on 4 of those goals, and 3 of those were on the backdoor (passed to the offensive player in a blind spot where I didn’t know he was there and I had to go post to post to try to make the save). I was okay with that loss again because I knew it wasn’t my fault.

I should point out that we were on a pretty bad playing streak. We were 3-2 before mid-season and division realignment, and 2-2 so far after the break. We went from a playoff team to hoping to make it into the post-season dance. I was also picked up off the campus waiver wire to play in another league the day before, sometimes two games back to back, so I was pretty tired after a while.

(I made the finals in a bizarre sequence where I got shelled 12-0, and then won 10-1 with two different teams. Yeah, it’s really weird.)

The Game 10

The next game didn’t help either as I completely lost my mojo and gave up 9 goals. My guys scored 6 in an attempt to come back, and like the other high-scoring game, I was pissed. I caved in again because of the pressure. I ended up breaking my paddle against the wall afterwards, and we weren’t even sure if we made it into the playoffs. Luckily, we had scored enough goals in a standings tie-breaker to squeak in. By now, I was all hockey’d out. I was playing for a little over a year straight and wanted nothing more than to veg out building my Lego Star Wars and go golfing. But, whatever, another game and it’ll be over.

Or so I thought.

It was a semi-final format so the first team we went up against was the team that beat us 5-1 in the regular season who were also the number 1 seed in our division. We beat them 6-3 because the core guys who were hot dogging decided to finally play some team hockey. I was actually pretty pumped that we won and advanced because I had sleep the night before (I called in sick to work), and it was the second time I made the finals that semester. We ended up against the 3rd seeded team (we were 4th seeded) who beat the team that beat us twice (6-4 and 6-5); they were 2nd seed. Mind you, this was also the team that beat us 9-6…

But, this is getting kinda winded and I want to write more about my emotional results in this so I’ll leave this as a cliffhanger. ;)

Follow me on Twitter @288theabe.

Sports Anxiety

I’m glad I see my anxiety as a neurological issues otherwise it would rip my thoughts and consciousness to threads. I can see how it can do that to other people suffering from the same thing. That said, I had a season opening game last Sunday night.

I’ve only been playing goalie for the past year or so, thus, I’m still pretty new to the game, even though I’ve played well over 100 games since then. I’m still pretty obsessed with the numbers game, but I found out during the win (7-5; little too high for me) to have a different kind of focus.

I can’t remember where I read this, but one mental strategy recommended in goalie psychology is to always reset the mental score in mind to zero after every goal. This particular game was especially nerve-racking because I was going up against a buddy of mine, also a goalie, and being the competitive assholes that we are, we wanted to beat each other senseless for this win. It was also important to start this season on a win because last season was absolutely brutal for me.

We went 1-9 last season because I hurt my left hip playing goalie in ball hockey and decided to keep playing with a hip strain. I also had an extra insole in my left skate because I’m a freaking moron (see below). I’m starting to think that didn’t help in the hip’s recovery process because normal healing time is 4-6 weeks and I’ve just started feeling better 4-6 weeks after I took out said insole.

(I bought my skates back in October, and had these things called Superfeet in them, but I forgot to take out the factory insole in the left skate, so I had two insoles in one skate. Derp, derp.)

It was also bad in the league games I filled in for over the summer, too. I think I went 1-2, while surrendering almost 30 goals, so this win was a definite confidence booster.

That said, I tried to get the numbers out of my head. Any numbers. The score, the time left in the game, the shots on goal (even though it wasn’t counted), even the numbers on the backs of my teammates. Yeah, that was a bad idea because I need to know who’s better at taking the puck out of our zone, but you get the idea. I was also lucky in the sense that there was only one scoreboard and I got the crease with my back was facing to it.

The time was the most important part to ignore for me because I just wanted to get the game over and done with. As with many anxiety blurps, you just want it gone, but being a goalie, I can’t exactly leave the ice on a whim. There were a couple of times in the first period where I looked back to see only a couple of minutes went by when I thought it was longer. That happened when we were being bombarded in our zone, but we got out of that unscathed. The point is, looking back at the clock didn’t help. I have this thing that when I get too nervous, I tend to dry heave, and boy, did I dry heave during the last period of the game. I just wanted that game to be over while we were still up, but obviously, that couldn’t happen just for little ol’ me; gotta hold down the fort until the final buzzer.

This mentality definitely helped keep my mind on the game instead of desperately wishing for it to end. I don’t exactly know why, but I’m not like this during pick-up. Maybe it’s the pressure of keeping pucks out of the net during a league game and it’s a lot more serious (and fast), or maybe it’s because league games are played a little differently. (Lot more shots compared to fancy dangles.)

Again, I think it’s just nerves and lack of experience playing in league games. I used to keep a spreadsheet (laptop crashed, didn’t back it up :( ) of my goals against average and be obsessed with it most of the time. This time around, I was more obsessed with the win instead of my own personal stats. Now that I think about it, almost all professional hockey players have that mentality and says that publicly at least. I should think about that instead.

The Pink

We’re going up against a team this Saturday night that wears pink, and it immediately reminded me of this. Now, there are currently some politically correct protests about “homophobia and sexism” in re-painting this to whatever colour, and I couldn’t care because I just don’t care. There’re more important things to life than worrying about someone’s feelings on retarded bullshit that has absolutely nothing to do with one and the other. There is, however, psychological evidence that pink provides a calming effect for people when it’s around. In a more simpler explanation, I hope they get down on themselves every time they put on that jersey. ;)

On a related note, we wear black; the colour of death. :D

The only thing I’m concerned about is us looking at the pink and then calming down ourselves. Gotta keep that in mind because I want to blow out this team so I won’t have to worry too much at the end of the game. But, that’s probably just me worrying too much again. I should hit the gym again today, a rest day, to beat these guys. :)

Semi-random song. I picked it out of a random list.

Follow me on Twitter @288theabe.


A few months ago, I saw a familiar face on Tinder. It was an old high school crush from Shithole, Ontario who has been living in Ottawa for the past 8 years. I didn’t mention her before because within a week after I made contact, she made it official with some pothead. That sent me in for another one of those “Life’s a cunt” few days, and for some reason, I never really bothered to write about it until now. Anyways, now that that’s done, I re-made contact with her last week, and we went on this 4-hour bar date a couple of days ago to catch up.

The “Shocker” moment came when we were reminiscing about how we met, and I don’t even remember the most important part. We were both 16 at one of her friend’s sweet 16 birthday party. Apparently, that’s a pretty big deal in the Filipino culture and since this mutual friend had this massive crush on me, I was invited and I went. This was over 15 years ago and if I can’t remember this shocker, then I obviously don’t remember much on details, so bear with me. That’s where I met….shit, I’m running out of obscure chick’s names here…uh…Deborah, yeah, that’s a pretty old and obscure name that’s hardly being used anymore. That’s where I met Deb. I remember having the biggest crush on her after that, but because of my massive fear of rejection, it was hard for me to make any kind of a move. I remember we went to the movies a couple of times, but I couldn’t seem to get past the touch barrier back then. That, and her father scared the living fuck out of me. Something about it being forbidden for her to date guys at that age. Looking back on her Facebook pictures now, her dad still scares the living fuck out of me. Dude looks like he spent his entire life bodybuilding!

Anyways, the shocker moment came when she told me about something I did that was so profound that she still remembers it to this day, even when I don’t. Apparently, she was having problems with her stilettos or some kind of women formal shoes, and I did something like “taking command” and told her to sit down while I rubbed her feet. Something along those lines, and I appeared very confident. She even remembered how I was rubbing her feet. Where the hell did that fucking kid go???? GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!! Twit…

Apparently, that was a big turn on. Apparently, that also happened! Really didn’t sound like me back then, but it also sounded like she was so floored by that that she had to tell me about it 15 years later. Guys left, right, and centre were talking to her, asking her out, but she said that she wanted that 16-year-old me to ask her out, and she would’ve said yes that night.

I don’t remember any of this.

At all.

Pretty sure this happened in an alternate universe where unicorns reigned supreme and ruled over humans with an iron fist.

I remember the party, but I don’t remember disappearing with her somewhere to massage her feet because they were hurting. In fact, our mutual friend with the massive crush on me was wondering where we were, again, apparently.

According to Deb, I also apparently broke the mutual friend’s heart. There was something about that chick’s eyes that really scared the living daylights out of me; they weren’t…aligned. To be fair (to me), I’ve always had this thing against eyes. It all began with my fish phobia so I’m going to fall back on that.

But, yeah, that’s the shocker: I was, apparently, a real debonair when I was a teenager, at the start of all this anxiety attacking, depression craziness. Stupid cortisol levels, killing my hippocampus…

If I had a time machine, I would travel back to that night, told my younger self to get inside Deborah’s pants, and if he didn’t, I would travel a couple of days ahead to slap him upside his head for being a moron. I would probably have concussion issues in present day, but at least I would feel better that I took it out on myself.

So that’s it. That’s the shocker. I was a real ladies’ man when I was a teenager and reverted to…this. It’s like a case of whatever the hell Benjamin Button had, but with female luck. Motherfucker.

Obviously, I’m going to see Deb again, just not sure when as hockey season is starting up this week, and along with school and work, I’ll be quite busy. Oh, that motherfucking 16-year-old me…I am so going to kick his ass…

Here’s a song I really liked back then. The first couple of seconds really repeats what I’ve said…

Follow me on Twitter @288theabe. Or follow my younger, more confident self pre-Twitter because he’s that much more awesome…that bastard…get back here!

Assisted Suicide

First, some housekeeping.

I stopped writing the last post on the 27th, and it was published on the 31st. The girl in question just flat-out refused to see me to say goodbye, and it sucked. I was so angry with her and with myself that I ended up smashing a 12lb medicine ball on my face at a relatively high velocity.

Yeah, that sounded a little weird. Basically, I was doing this heavier version of sit-ups where you’re on an incline of about 45 degrees upside down, throwing a medicine against the wall on the up part and it bounces back to you, forcing the down part a little heavier, and then repeat as hard as you can. I normally do three sets of ten, but on one of the sets, I got so worked up that I forgot to catch the ball and hit me square in the face. What hurt even more was the fact that my legs were more or less locked in the bench, and I almost took the bench to the side with me. That whole thing still ended up hurting less than her not saying goodbye, and not talking to me much after she left.

I also mentioned a while back that we haven’t had Internet. Well, I’m happy to say that we do now…as of three days ago. That’s right. We ordered from Teksavvy over a month ago and it took Bell, the Internet provider, that long to install internet. It was mostly Bell’s fault since they would show up an hour before the scheduled appointment to install, when nobody’s home. Teksavvy’s not off my shit-list either, because they were the ones who sat around and did nothing for the first 3 weeks, but apologize. Their management ended up surprising me with a phone call, as I was just getting into the gym parking lot to work off my anger, that Bell would be at our place that night, so after some confirmation, I went back and waited, but not for very long. So, that’s something at least. Teksavvy also gave us an extra month of Internet for free, but personally, I would’ve gunned for more than a month, but what’s done is done, and I just want to move on.

Now, on to the juicy stuff.

The Assisted Suicide

Two weeks ago, Gillian Bennett of British Columbia, Canada took her life because she didn’t want to be a burden to her family. Gillian was in the early stages of dementia and assisted suicide is a criminal offence in Canada.

Many of my regular readers know that I have a plan to end mine, but General Anxiety Disorder hardly qualifies as something bigger like dementia or ALS. Those things leaves a person in a vegetative state, while many of us with anxiety issues just don’t want to live with ourselves. I was thinking earlier that in the grand scheme of things in the mental illness world, GAD is more of a cold: It’s common, hardly curable, but it takes time to. The only difference is, some do get over it, while others don’t. It can be argued that dementia is a form of mental illness, but I think it falls in line more with a disease of the central nervous system, rather than the generally associated abnormal psychology part.

I only bring this up to add my voice to the debate. Personally, I’ve always thought that ending one’s own life is their choice, but (massive but), I do believe that that person has to be in the right frame of mind. Yeah, this coming from the guy who wants to end his life in the next several years, but hear me out.

I’m pretty sure I got this from my mother who always said that she would rather die than live in a vegetative state, so Bennett would’ve agreed with her. I still remember images from Terry Schiavo where the poor woman didn’t look like she could move and was sentenced to that bed for the rest of her life. I wouldn’t want to be conscious while lying on a bed 24/7; that’d get boring. Hell, I wouldn’t even know what I’d do with myself if I couldn’t run or play hockey and golf anymore. That just might bring my death closer. I would much rather kill some douchebag and get life in prison than become bedridden like that.

I do think that we need assisted suicide legalized, but with extremely strict measures. I was joking with a friend prior to writing this about doctors misinterpreting symptoms like a cold, or a simple misunderstanding. You don’t want a needless death with someone coming in to the hospital with a stubbed toe.

I like the gender reassignment model. To make sure that a patient is eligible to gender reassignment surgery, it (yes, I used the word “it” because I was never politically correct to begin with and if I were to use any other gender identifier, I would’ve been given hell so damned if you do, damned if you go fucking blow me) has to go through approximately two years of psychological and chemical therapy before doing the actual surgery.

So in order to qualify for assisted suicide, I think it should take at least that long to do so, and it must obviously be supervised by a competent doctor (and not this guy).

That’s just my views. I agree with Bennett and my mother because the more I thought about it through my existence, the more I don’t want to live like that. Hell, I was just having a discussion about suicide with my counsellor and I don’t even want to live with this depression and anxiety. Either way, that’s not living at all.

Now that I think about it, the whole thing about “preserving life” is pretty ridiculous…hmmm…

The Realization

It’s probably just a massive coincidence, but almost right after the last post was published, my uber-religious friend of mine and I have been having this religion-anti-religion debate for at least a couple of days now. To be honest, I’m kinda getting tired of it, but one thing that it’s made me realize is that when I mentioned Life as some kind of entity, I’m referring to the god I brainwashed to believed in when I was a child.

I was raised Catholic and stopped practicing when I was 15ish when I realized the whole thing was nothing but a control for the masses. Anyways, I followed what they taught to a tee, and I was still getting screwed over. I remember this one time, as an altar server (I don’t think I was molested by priests…), there was some kind of award thing that I was not nominated for, even though I was the unofficial head guy who was always there. I think it was then that I started to really question the whole concept of god and after a while, woke up and realized it’s nothing but a fairy tale.

From what I was taught, being a “good person” (no such thing in contemporary christianity, ie. gay marriage) will get you good things. Never have, and it still hasn’t. So I guess in that last post, I still harbour some resentment to this god/Life entity.

Well, I haven’t written anything this long in a while. I just want to escape from things for a bit, but no dice. Let’s see how much damage my hippocampus can take.

I’m not sure if I’ve linked this song yet, but the first verse describes mine and many other lives in my predicament.

Follow me on Twitter @288theabe.

Life’s an Asshole

So this is another one of those rare posts that I schedule for a later date. I’m writing this before August has ended and the reason this time is because this particular incident hasn’t been resolved yet. At the same time, we all know what happens when I give regular updates on incidents: They end, most of the time with me being rejected for some asshole. At least this time, I know it’s going to end, and rightfully so for some other asshole.

One of the great things about suffering from depression is the hiding. I’ve gotten pretty good at hiding things over the many, many years, and it translated to my old law enforcement profession. I don’t like doing it, but sometimes, it has to be done.

The point of that is, I was trying to get to something that I’ve been avoiding to write about since June, but looking back, I really didn’t write enough to warrant any type of dropped hints, so….yeah….hahahaha…

Basically, I want to re-punch life in the face…not that I’ve punched him already. I just had another Another Incident. I fought hard against this one, too. She’s 19 and the maturity level didn’t really match up and does things that kinda annoys me. We met while I was working at McDicks back in May (which, if all goes well, I should be gone from that shitty place now), and she definitely showed interest in me from the get-go. It wasn’t anything obvious, more like..the attention. I tried my best to ignore her, basically let her know that I’m not interested, but no……she just had to be fucking persistent.

So we hung out. A lot. Because I’m a moron. At one point, she was in the area I live in, hiding from something or other, so I had her up in my room before the start of her shift at work. Nothing happened, but we did break the touch barrier, and it just went downhill from there.

Well…downhill in the fact that I was starting to be able to tolerate her. Stupid human contact…why must Harlow notice this shit?

So, on a Sunday, I had her over for dinner where I cooked spaghetti for her (and the roommate, in exchange for the television to ourselves and he stays in the room ;) ). Apparently, that’s a very good thing. The great part was, she dressed with a bit of class. The bad part was, I had to dress with a bit of class. We were also watching Super Troopers because she’s really into cats and there’s an amazing scene. Yeah, I realize that movie isn’t the greatest date night movie, but I wanted her to watch something while I cook. Don’t really like pressure while I cook….

The thing that irks me the most (sort of…not really…irked me post hoc) was when I put my arm around her and she leaned right in. Life, you are a motherfucker because that actually pumped a shit-ton of endorphins through my brain, and I remember thinking, “Oh, so that’s what it’s like to be wanted. That is nice!”

So what’s the problem, you ask?

The problem is, she’s heading out east for school in September. In another province, in another time zone. So much like the Another Incident, I get teased and screwed, yet again.

We both agreed that a long-distance thing isn’t going to work out, and I don’t really see myself with her in the long-term. Yeah, that sounds pretty asshole-ish, but I’ve heard of people doing worse. Also, I didn’t see myself quitting smoking 8 years ago either, and I’m more or less not a smoker…much. (Well, I put in the effort.) So who knows what would’ve happened.

Things just got a little weird after that, or maybe it’s just me. I tried to take her to this Mosaika thing on the following Thursday, but she said she was busy. Oddly enough, my first initial automatic thought was her hanging out with her friends for the last time in a long time, and getting ready for the move. In the past, it would be that she just doesn’t want to see me. So, progress! It also rained like a bitch too, so an outdoor event at night was certainly out of the question. (Lots of sitting on grass.)

I tried to just hang out with her one more time in general, but she gave me some weird thing about how she was trying to decide whether to hang out with me or some old friend who pushed her down some flight of stairs. I don’t know, I know she’s bad news in the long run, but at the same time, still doesn’t make it any less hurtful.

One of my guesses are that she doesn’t want to go through saying goodbye, and unfortunately, I do.

But, no…Life just has to be a fucking cockteasing bitch.

Lately, I’ve been going through so much going on in my mind that even the gym can’t cure. It’s gotten so bad that I’m getting insomnia; something that doesn’t usually happen to me (although, runs rampant with people who have anxiety and depression problems). On a lighter note, it took me three days to realize that I’ve had this anti-anxiety app on my phone that knocks me right out. That could’ve come in handy.

So now, no matter what happens, no matter what I do, being wanted by someone is out of my grasp, yet again.

Fuck you, Life, you cunt. There isn’t a word in the English language to describe how much of an asshole you are.

Comedic Suicide & Back on the Smoking Train

Sad news today. Comedic actor, Robin Williams, died today in an apparent suicide. Oddly enough, this wasn’t much of a surprise that he was suffering from depression; the suicide itself, and this soon, was.

Eerily enough, it coincided with a massive anxiety attack today that resulted in me getting back on the smoking train.

The Episode

I must’ve quit smoking about 7-8 years ago, so I guess I got that going for me. First, I just want to say that I’m not proud of myself. Like many other addicts, I found my vice. Granted, smoking is not as bad as a hard drug such as cocaine or heroin, and it’s not as bad as a gambling addiction. I’d say it’s on par with an alcohol addiction, though. It’s still bad, but what I’m trying to say is that it could be worse.

Today was just the boiling point. A lot of things built up, from work, to money, to having a metric shit-ton of things to do. I mentioned in my previous entry that we still haven’t gotten the internet installed (Day 11 right now) and still no end in sight. My original plan today was to do some personal hygiene stuff (shave my head) before I head over to campus at around 4pm to use the internet to catch up on these errands. Unfortunately for me, my toilet had other ideas and started to overflow. So now, in this shitty, shitty summer heat that I’m sweltering in, I couldn’t shower because I used all my towels to clean it up. I also had to wash said towels and hung them up so they can dry before I can take a shower.

The reason why I hate summer is because I hate sweating when I’m not doing anything. I can be standing around and still sweat; I can be in my car and still be sweating. It’s the most disgusting feeling ever and I always feel so trapped. I can’t even go home because it’s even worse, and even when I do now, it’s hard to distract myself because there’s no internet to keep me busy.

But the toilet thing was the last straw. If you’ve read the Why of the blog, I mentioned that my absolute, suicidal worst is (10). I went from a (6) to (9.5) in a flash. I also spent two hours buying things that I can’t afford to buy to fix that damn thing, and in the end, all I found was a piece of hair accessory, left behind by the previous occupant. It wasn’t what clogged it but I’ve been there since January, so who knows how long it’s been there?

In the end, I still couldn’t fix it. I had to call in sick to work later tonight because of my state of mind, something that I just can’t afford to do, but I had to do it. That pushed me back so much.

It’s been a combination of things building up over the last couple of weeks that just broke me, plus this retarded heat with retarded people adding to it by idling their cars. I saw one asshole in this Mustang idling his engine in front of my apartment while he was inside doing something or other. I had half a mind to reach in and turn it off, but in my state of mind, I could’ve killed him if he came out at that moment.

I also haven’t been able to go to the gym lately because of work. Working tiny little shifts here and there doesn’t leave me with much gas, inside of me & the car, to go to the gym. I really hate working to make someone richer.

I just looked at my latest paystub from McDicks and I’m nowhere near $2Gs. That’s pretty pathetic for the amount of work I do. The stress isn’t worth it either. I would sometimes get hours at places where my labour is going towards something good (recycling beer bottles, reffing & timekeeping hockey games), and McDicks would throw a tantrum if I switch shifts or give hours away to someone who needed it more than I do. Let’s see: a 3-hour blurb of bullshit versus an 8-hour shift that would divert thousands of pounds of waste from landfills, and that pays me (slightly) more. Tough decision….

Let that be a lesson kids: Don’t work hard for other people who will profit off you. Work hard for yourself because those who do profit off you doesn’t give two shits about your well-being. I’m so sick of this shit.

But back to the smoking thing, I actually bought a pack chain-smoked after grabbing the toilet repair stuff. After that, I was nice and calm..for all of 20 minutes, but at least it was enough to pick myself up again and keep moving. I still have the pack on me and need to get rid of it soon or else I’ll have more cravings for it. So far, I’ve smoked four sticks, and I feel disgusting because of it.

I still find it creepy that one of my worst attacks this year coincided with the suicide of Robin Williams.

So that was my shitty day. Here’s a shitty song.

Follow me on Twitter @288theabe.

Heat, Booze, and other things

Yeah, it’s been a while.

Last I wrote, I was talking about how little hours I was getting, but that did a 180 turn more or less and I wasn’t able to find time to write at all. So I guess that’s a good problem. The anxiety itself wasn’t that bad since I was keeping busy, obviously, but after a while, it started getting bad because I wasn’t able to really relax. The sad part is, I’m still doing three jobs, and was averaging around 35 hours a week, and that still drained me because I was travelling to and from places. I was able to get a long weekend off last week and went back to see my folks, but I spent most of it sleeping, even during daylight hours. I honestly think it’s because their house has some trees around it so with shade, I was able to sleep better. I’m pretty tired right now, and getting so uncomfortable because of this stupid heat that’s causing my anxiety. (6) My mind’s constantly racing to do things, but I can’t seem to bring myself to do them. I’m sure I’ve done some things that didn’t help, either.

The Booze

So last week, I’ve been having a lot of beer cravings. I’m sure it doesn’t help that I work at a warehouse full of beer, neither is working at McDicks. The only good part is working at my hockey job, but last week was a bye week, so to speak, before teams head into the playoffs; so no timekeeping. Not being in a cold building with shorts is not a good thing for me.

Geez, this anxiety’s shit. Look at that tiny little tangent that took me five minutes to write. Basically, I had a bottle of Flying Monkeys  two Mondays ago (India Pale Ale, not my thing, but just wanted to try it) for shits and giggles; went to a friend’s going away party at a pub and tried Boneshaker (another IPA, but incredibly dry, so good name for it); shared a pitcher of Creemore with a buddy of mine in Shithole, Ontario after a round of golf on Saturday; and finally another Flying Monkeys when I got back to civilization. Man, I think I’m tripping hard.

I’ve written before that alcohol sends me into anxiety trips, and it should last about a week, with it peaking on around Day 2 or 3. It’s Day 5, and I still feel like crap. This heat isn’t helping either.

The Heat

This summer hasn’t even been all that bad in terms of actual heat, compared to previous ones, but at the same time, I’ve just been so fucking miserable because of it. Sitting or standing around and sweating is just plain disgusting. I hate it with a passion. It also doesn’t help that I still haven’t been able to find the time to buy a set of curtains for my room.

I’ve been finding myself on campus using the internet because I don’t have any at the moment (more on that later). I’ve also been telling myself that I need to hit the gym more, but at the same time, I don’t want to deal with this heat every time I go outside. It’s like I’m trapped. Fucking hate it. I just want to sit around, and be comfortable in my own place for once. It’s like being back living with my parents again; very little freedom to do much.

The Internet

Yes, I realize that I’m on said Internet but I’m going to use this platform to voice a complaint with certain Canadian Internet providers.

My roommate and I had to get new Internet because ours was under my old roommate’s and she moved out. We decided to go with Teksavvy because it was a smaller company, and Canada has 3 telecommunications companies who basically has a massive monopoly on things. Essentially, we’re being gouged.

We ordered it last Monday, told them we would be available for them to install it on last Thursday, Friday, and Monday, and we still don’t have it. This Teksavvy Internet provider uses a line from another company called Bell, which is responsible for installing whatever it is they’re going to install. Neither companies has given us a date as to when it will be installed, and it’s been well over a week, almost two. Suffice it to say, don’t go with either one.

So that’s basically it. I’m timekeeping a game right now, and totally in my happy place because it’s dry and cold. I’m sitting in the box with a t-shirt and jogging pants with my sweat-absorbant pants underneath. That’s because i have a game later on to play, one that I should be time keeping, but a team needed a goalie so…I’m it.

Here’s a random song.

Follow me on Twitter @288theabe.