In other words, I don’t have a clue as to what I want to write about.

It’s the classic situation where I have only been awake for 15 minutes and have not had the time to think of anything I wish to address, nor do I have one of my little story ideas, so I guess I am going to be winging it.

What the hell. I never end up talking about what I plan to talk about anyhow.

It’s the price I pay for having a mind that runs perpendicular to the mainstream. A creative kind of mind that follows the connection between things rather than some absolute sense of direction and thus never knows where it will end up.

It’s a powerful mode of thought but it does have its drawbacks, and one of them is having trouble picking a destination and sticking to it.

It’s like trying to cross a fast running stream. You might be aiming for a specific point on the opposite shore but the current pulls you where it will.

I have gone two days without quetiapine now. I will definitely be taking it tonight. I had a nice long talk with my therapist about it and he agreed that the side effects I am experiencing are a cause for worry, especially the akathisia, which is the feeling of intense inner tension and restlessness I get sometimes.

Although this time through, I notice that increased appetite is another side effect, and I have been blaming that on my diabetes. Hmmm.

Well I was definitely having that problem well before I went back on the big Q, so that can’t be the only cause.

But it’s god damned annoying and really wears on the nerves to be hungry – really hungry – all of the god damned time.

Anyhow. My therapist gave me a prescription for a second sleeping pill that I am to use three days a week in order to space out my doses of quetiapine. And who knows, maybe the new pill will be even better than quetiapine.

Don’t ask me what it’s called. I can’t read his goddamned handwriting.

Oh, and he explained to me why doctors use these weird atypical antipsychotics as sleep aids. It’s because they are non-addictive.

All the usual benzos and other typical sleep aids have addictive properties. They also have side effects much nastier than anything big Q has done to me.

But the real attention grabbing headline was that if you have sleep apnea, the benzos can straight up kill you.

Turns out that if you combine sleep apnea with a strong depressant like a benzodiazapine derivative, the respiration rate slowing of the depressant can gang up with the sleep apnea and make it so that one of those times I stop breathing in my sleep, I just plain never start again.

And that’s like one of my worst nightmares so uh, fuck that.

I don’t have the new drug yet because I haven’t been to the pharmacy yet because I am super frigging lazy,. But I took my last Paxil and my second-last Wellbutrin just now, so I am going to have to go tomorrow or risk going off my meds.

And when it comes to the ones propping up what little sanity I have, I am not crazy enough (heh) to fuck around.

What else.There is someone I am interested in online. We have been spending a lot of time together on Tapestries, and I really like being (virtually) around him, and he’s told me he looks forward to seeing me.

And that makes me so happy! Especially because I know it was not easy for him to say that. He’s a rather old school grumpy type and so that was a rare admission of vulnerability in this books.

He’s even talked about me visiting him. He even wants to take me to the House on the Rock, which is a crazy ass place I read about in a Neil Gaiman book once.

Read up on it, it’s insane, and I would love to go there.

But then last night when we are virtually hanging out together, his online “mate” logged in, and I realized, holy shit. here I am again.

Once more, I am someone’s side piece. When his mate showed up, I felt a terrible coldness descend on my heart like a killing frost and I was right back to where I was when I lived with the two Brians in Portland.

I would be there all cuddled up with little Brian, enjoying the exact kind of domestic bliss I have always dreamed about, and then big Brian would get home from work.

And the front door was quite close to the couch on which we were cuddled up, so he would end up both literallty and metaphorically bringing a cold wind with him.

And I don’t know if I can go through this again. I can’t be someone’s part-time lover. Especially not if I am expected to just drop everything when the person’s REAL mate shows up and disappear from the scene.

I can’t do that over and over. It’s too traumatic to me to go from warmth and closeness to the freezing cold of seperation and isolation.

And I can’t let myself be treated as disposable ever again.

So this guy I am into and I Need To Talk. I need to know whether he is actually interested in me or if I am just a nice warm place for him to rest and dream while his real lover isn’t around.

When it comes to love, I don’t share. Learned that the hard way. I need someone for whom I will be as important as they will be to me. I need to be someone’s number one priority, because they will definitely be mine.

I need to be the person who stays and the other person can be the person who feels awkward and frozen out so they leave.

Otherwise, as much as it would hurt, I gotta leave this guy behind.

Man, love can really suck, you know?

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

I seem to be in the middle of one of those periods where I feel frustrated and angry and nihilistic.

The usual suspects have been rounded up. I feel like screaming incoherently atop a rooftop. Just screaming and screaming and screaming until I have screamed out all my frustrations and I lapse into a coma out of sheer emotional exhaustion.

I also feel like screaming in people’s faces. Tell the whole human race to GO FUCK ITSELF, both individually and as a group.

The ducks can go fuck themselves too. They know why. Fucking ducks.

But worse is the manic edge I feel creeping into the corners of my mind. Like if I am not careful, I will turn into a lunatic that barks at the moon and acts like a cross between Robin Williams and the Joker.

Cocaine-era Robin Williams. Obviously.

The sort of lunatic who, if the button that activated a doomsday device that can destroy the world appeared before them, might just press the button just for the lolz.

The same lunatic side of me that would strip naked and walk right past a kindergarten just so I can laugh at how upset people get over something as harmless as a penis.

It’s also the kamikaze side of my personality, and thatside of me is occasionally very useful. When I need or want to do something that is very scary and/or hard for me to do, being able to just throw myself into it like a madman with a grenade betwene his teeth can be very helpful.

Banzai, motherfuckers! Better start running, because the Fruvous bomb is about to go off and there will be NO SURVIVORS.

But it is, essentially, a manic state, and those are dangerous as fuck. Scary too. It might look like that person in a manic phase is having the time of their life, but in their mind the reasonable, sane part of their pysche is scared shitless like they are strapped to a runaway bucking bronco.

I’ve never had a full on manic episode, but I have gotten close enough to get the flavour of it and it’s freaking terrifying.

Other rogue urges include the urge to grab my keyboard and wield it like a sword to smash everything in front of me, including my computer, my monitor, my speakers, and possibly the window.

You know, as a kind of crescendo.

That one makes a sort of sense. After all, this computer is both my gateway to the world and the anchor that keeps me in place. If I didn’t have the damned thing, I would have no choice but to go out into the world and figure out how to get along with others in some way.

Or I would go fetal and catatonic.

Either way, it would be a refreshing change.

Sometimes, when I am out, I just plain don’t want to come back. I don’t want to go back into this crystalline cage of mine. I want to stay out there in the world and do things.

But I always end up back here, in my box, being kept semi-alive by the clunky old emotional life support system that is this computer.

I’m going to go lie down and think about stuff now.

---

So there’s an update.

Normally, we do Paragon on Thursday nights. Felicity and I go to Garth’s space and hang out with him and develop our silly ass show.

But last week I couldn’t go because both Joe and Julian were sick with a stomach bug and I definitely felt like I was coming down with something and so I thought myself contagious.

This week, I was all excited to go, but then around 4 pm I started feeling really ill. By around 4:45 pm I was feeling feverish. I was dizzy, nauseous, faint, and had a very strange feeling in my veins.

Sort of a bubbly tingling feeling. Very disturbing.

I mean, I have been told I have an effervescent personality, but…

So I had to cancel again. Grr. I hate being the weak link!

The thing is, at the same time I felt dizzy and faint, I also felt fairly agitated. Part of me wanted to lay down and hibernate while another part of me wants to put on my hat and coat and venture into the night and just walk and walk and walk until I don’t feel so crazy any more.

Put a pin in that. That might come in handy at some point.

I suppose that is what happens when this fever of mine meets my earlier feelings of frustration and irritation and such.

Also frustrating : my search for a modern, current, AAA quality game to spend my sister’s $50 Amazon.ca gift certificate on.

I think that made sense.

The problem is that Amazon.ca is a crap place to buy video games these days. Their selection is bizarrely spotty, the good stuff never has Prime uber cool delivery, and the prices are way higher than on Steam.

Then I had the brilliant idea of buying a Steam gift card on Amazon.ca. Problem solved! Amazon.ca money becomes Steam money!

But no… that would be too easy. They were all sold out of the $50 ones and had only 2 of the $20 left, and when I went to order two of those, the damn site crashed. So no dice there.

I will try again, though. Dammit.

The alternative is to buy something else on Amazon.ca, or to see what they DO have instead of searching for specific things.

I hate to be limited like that, but it might be the optimal solution.

Whatever. Come heck or high water, I am going to get a NOW game for once and therefore stand some chance of knowing what the fuck people are talking about when games come up instead of being the poor country cousin being indulged when I want to talk about games from ages ago.

Them : “Oh right…. I think I remember that game. It was okay I guess. Oh, but the sequel was way better… ”

Me : “Wait, there’s more of them?”

Them : “Um yeah…. there’s like, eight games in the series, plus DLC…. ”

Me : “…….I knew that. ”

I am sure I will find something eventually.

Or I could use the money to buy something that would help me escape this pigpen of a life!

If only I knew WTF that would be.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.