Shocker

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.

Morning Post

You know, I don’t think I’ve ever written anything in the morning before. I’m still usually passed out, trying to wake up, or making breakfast. I realized when I woke up that I didn’t have anything to make my usual breakfast so I ended up going to a McDonald’s and having it there. It’s quite disgusting.

The Experimental Results

So there was another confoundedness about this experiment. It could be my pessimistic way of thinking, but it wasn’t too bad. In fact, really good things happened in the first day. I did feel quite a bit of anxiety when I woke up in the two days afterwards (4.5), but it was recognizable. The muggy weather last week certainly didn’t help with getting out of bed, but I did, and begrudgingly made breakfast. I think breakfast certainly helped with my mood as I worked 3pm-9pm at said McDonald’s (one of my four jobs), and then 10pm-12pm at the hockey timekeeping job.

Well, I love the timekeeping job so I fail to see why I would get anxiety from that. I mean, I was able to get there at 9:30, watch half a game with my buddy who was working one game, went to the one I was assigned to, and then went back to watch some more. I got paid for two games even though…I was just watching some good hockey!

I was expecting Saturday to be especially bad because I had very little sleep from watching the Kings beat the Rangers for the Stanley Cup in double overtime (boo to Kings winning, yay for what a finish to the season!), got up at 7:30am for work at the Beer Store (3rd of four) until 3pm, 3 hours in-between to catch up on errands, and started another job (4th of four) at 6pm which didn’t finish until 10pm.

This was another catering job, and I ended up meeting a cutie who was pretty cool…who also had a boyfriend of three years. Motherfucker. I wasn’t down about it or anything, but I did stop talking to her because…well, what’s the point anymore? lol So that’s Life rubbing his dirty nose into my life again. I swear, I’m going to kill that bastard.

But the thing that started off this possible confoundedness is a win. I found a league game while I was drinking my delicious beer. I need to play more league games to calm my nerves about playing them because I would always get so worked up. These things count for me because I keep tabs of my goals against average, and I usually play for really crappy teams (I guess that’s why the goalie has no issue with giving away his games when he could be doing something better). Anyways, I decided not to give too much thought to this game, even though I did end up getting there a little later than I wanted to.

I like to get to the rink an hour before puck drop so I’ll have enough time to get ready without rushing. I hate rushing. Google Maps said it would take about a half an hour to get to this particular arena and I wasn’t feeling too hot because of something I ate so I didn’t get there until half an hour before puck drop. The drive was pretty stressful, and I’m guessing it was because of the beer the night before. But I got there on time, and got dressed so quickly I still had time to watch the Zamboni do a couple more laps of flooding.

The Game

Yes, I know, I still have to get to why this experiment was so confounded. Basically, we won, 5-3. First goal was a slap shot to my face, so unfortunately, I instinctively ducked out of the way. I was screened by my own guy on the second goal, which was a soft wrister, right between my legs. I didn’t see or hear the release (puck leaving the stick usually have some kind of sound), and I did have a piece of the puck when I saw it, but it wasn’t enough. I was screened again on the third goal in the second period but it was on the pass from my right to left and couldn’t get to the other post in time to make the save.

Luckily though, most of the shots came as high slappers, and with my positional awesomeness, I make those saves 90% of the time (except for those two first ones) or they miss me and the net completely because I give them nothing to shoot at. There was also the amazing defense that didn’t dick around. I always had one guy back, they knew how to clear the puck out of my zone, and were positionally sound (except for screening me).

Another lucky thing were our power plays. We stayed out of the penalty box while the other team took two, and we converted (hockey lingo for scored) on them. We actually pulled ahead 4-3 on the last power play (really stupid time to take a penalty), and after a flurry of shots in the last minute and change that I stonewalled them on, we got the empty net goal (they “pulled” their goalie to get an extra skater out to outnumber us) with ten seconds left.

The only thing I regret not doing was my post-victory celebration, but that was because I was so gassed from that minute and change. I got stupid and went to the gym a few hours before the game too, so “tired” would be an understatement.

Now that I think about it, it could’ve been the exercise and the win that confounded this experiment.

But suffice it to say, barely any negativeness from this round of beer. I do want another one this week though, just to see what that would do. I’m thinking Wednesday again, in the middle of my work week. I’m also hoping that there would be neutral incidents, but I’ll also be at work so who knows.

There was also work in general that got me in a better mood because I was able to go a little over 30 hours with four jobs last week, and I’m just a couple of hours short of 40 hours this week. So at least I won’t have to worry about money too much for the next week. I would say that I’ve been a surprising (3.5) since the last post. I definitely expected higher because of the delicious beer.

Here’s a random song….I swear. Even though it does sort of reflect on my goalie prowess.

Follow me on Twitter @288theabe.

Experiment Take 2

This experiment is brought to you by…

IMG_0404

Hog’s Back beer. Well, they’re not sponsoring me, but that would be amazing. At the same time though, that would be unethically stupid. Although, that would be an interesting premise to get this blog sponsored: Getting random companies to give me money to run my experiments on myself. Again, that’s a shit-ton of ethics that would be possibly violated, but…need money. Oh, well.

That’s the most awesome picture I’ve taken in a while. I mean, what can be better? Got the Stanley Cup Finals on (Rangers won to stay alive and take it to Game 5), very local brew that’s straight from Ottawa, Ontario, and a very comfortable couch.

The Experiment

So the point of this experiment is to get a better idea of where I am with my SSRI withdrawal, because the last one was a bit of a bust. There were just way too many confounding variables to get an accurate read on my anxiety because too many things were jacking it up. There was the stupidity that is the scheduling for my psychiatrist, and then there was the screwjob by life, once again.

I’m so sick of this broken record, so I’ll make this quick. Basically, I found out that an old high school crush has been living in the same city as I’m living in for several years now. Great, hope, right? Wrong again. A week after contact, she made it official with this guy she was seeing that they’re in a relationship. Seriously, you can’t write this shit up! Even my psychiatrist was flabbergasted at “my luck,” which is in actuality, my life…who I want to drive my knee into his balls. Suffice it to say, I was at a (7), possibly higher.

But, I’m getting angry thinking about it again. I was angry for about two weeks over that and didn’t get much of a chance to hit the gym over it. I only have work for the next few days so I only have that to deal with. Hopefully nothing stupid happens…again.

Here’s a random song.

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