I don’t know why. The only thing I know is that my motivations for anything are for the most part unknowable.

#anotherfascinatingpost 

My friend and I ran a marathon and it was completely ridiculous.

Other possible emotions:

I’m still wary of that stuff.

As soon as following my naturopath’s advice worked, I dropped everything and went back to my old habits, including insomnia.

The worst part of insomnia is that nothing stops for you.  You may not sleep, but you still have to work, go to school, ride the TTC, buy groceries.  It takes unnatural strength to drag yourself through the day when one foot feels like it’s in the proverbial grave.  Hence The Incredible Insomniac Woman!

Today, MS PAINT DIARY brings you…

The Incredible Insomniac Woman’s Amazing FEATS OF WAKEFULNESS!!!!

Making it through a whole day of work - again and again and again, day after day!  (HOW DOES SHE DO IT??)

Cleaning the house like nobody’s fucking business!!

Cooking dinner like a goddamn champion!

Hangin’ out with friends!  LET’S PARTY!

Aging faster than the speed of genetics (and lifestyle choices)!

Mysteriously resisting the power of sleep beyond what is considered humanly possible!

I am sick, fat and exhausted.

As the only child of a mild-mannered single mom, my childhood Christmases were very quiet.

I always wanted the big, family Christmases I saw on TV, but when we did go to other families’ parties it would become apparent that I was completely unequipped for them.  Being around a large group of hyped-up children left me alternately terrified, or violent in my attempts to control them.

Luckily, I learned a hack in adolescence for developing social skills and easing my tendency to hit people when they disappointed me.

Now that I am grown-up, I live with a loud and, um, boldly-mannered person, who was raised with the kind of lively Christmases I always dreamt about and shares my desire to re-create them.

And I mean, sure, I can see how a quiet Christmas has its advantages.

Not to mention…

and

But even though there’s no Christ in my Christmas, it’s still a sacred tradition to me.  I believe that our rituals lend structure and meaning to our lives; if you didn’t feel like you had to do Christmas, you probably never would.  And another year would go by, and another and another, where you hadn’t made a point of gathering with your loved ones, reflecting on the passage of time, and sharing your food, home, and the fruits of your hard-earned income for no reason other than to come together.  Life is busy, especially when you’re trying to scrape by for yourself and make a living wage until your real life starts - the one where you’re a movie star or a celebrity chef or whatever - but Christmas reminds me that we’re all George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life.  All we’ve got is each other, babies.  Which is pretty fucking poetic when you think about it.

So happy holidays, little buddies!  May your holidays be full of love and your gatherings boisterous… because, in the wise words of Clarence Oddbody the angel, no man is a failure who has friends.*

*Same for ladies and cats.

The notion of consciousness has been plaguing me with existential angst for as long as I can remember.  As a very young child, the concept drove me to tears of frustration: “But why,” I remember railing at my mother, “am I me and you’re you?“  As a security defense against psychosis, I’ve learned to stop worrying about it so much, but that’s only a coping mechanism; the worry is still there with me, all the time.

For example, here’s just one of the many frustrating angles of this puzzle to gnaw your teeth on: what is the purpose of consciousness?  In terms of sheer survival, our consciousness only slows us down.  Our sub-conscious minds make all the real decisions, because the sub-conscious mind is faster than the conscious mind - it’s not hampered down by our interminable thinking and reasoning.  So, if there’s an emergency, your sub-conscious brain tells you to react and then a split second later your conscious mind realizes you’re reacting and you assume you made a decision to do so.

Benjamin Libet is a physiologist who conducted controversial tests demonstrating that Bereitschaftspotential (the ‘readiness potential’ in our sub-conscious minds) precedes the “decisions” made by our conscious minds to act.  That is, everything you think you’ve decided to do has already been set in motion by your sub-conscious mind.  You decide, I’m going to punch this guy in the face, but what you don’t notice is that your arm is already mid-swing.  So, the question arises, are we really deciding to do anything?  Is free will just a delusion?  Here, I illustrate Bereitschaftspotential as exemplified by my cat’s uncanny ability to sense when there is going to be tuna before there is any evidence of it.  Readiness potential unhampered by consciousness and directed by destiny, or more evidence of our animal friends’ psychic powers?  You decide:

1. Subject A (the human) decides to enjoy a delicious can of tuna.  As Subject A procures the can from the pantry, Subject B (the cat) simultaneously displays alert readiness even though Subject B is in another part of the house and there have been no aural or olfactory cues since the can remains unopened.

2. Subject B (the cat) reacts to electrical impulses launching it into motion.

3. Meanwhile, Subject A has still not opened the can.  But Subject A is really looking forward to tuna’s pleasing taste and muscle-building protein content.

4. Subject A prepares to breach the seal on the tin can of tuna by means of a can-opener.  Meanwhile, Subject B has already arrived in the room and assumed Treat Ready Position - presumably without knowing why.

5. Tuna can is breached.  Tell-tale sound of tin seal popping and pleasing, fishy smell ensue.

6. Universal mystery: how does Subject B (the cat) KNOW??

I’ve been hitting the gym on the regular since it’s pretty clear at this point that this ass is not going to lift itself, but because I’m a pear shape the only thing that will budge is the arms.  The other day one of my ass cheeks slipped out the bottom of my pants and somebody said “Ma’am, I think you’re about to lose your colostomy bag.”*

*That is not a true story.

If I were a brand of doll, my manufacturers would make tons of money on all the accessories parents would be forced to buy their kids after they’d got me for Christmas.

Sold separately:

• Underwear
• Bra
• Sports bra
• Workout shirt
• Workout shorts
• Workout socks
• Running shoes
• iPod
• Wallet
• Makeup bag
• Post-workout shower bag (shampoo ‘n’ stuff)
• Combination lock
• Glasses
• Sunglasses
• Polyurethane pants
• Polyurethane jacket
• Winter jacket
• Cycling socks
• Cycling shoes
• Key for bike lock
• Winter gloves
• Face mask/cycling toque
• Helmet
• Work pants
• Work shirt
• Sweater
• Work shoes
• Pass card
• Tupperware with food (breakfast, lunch, snack)
• Accessories for work outfit (jewellery)
• Towel
• Notepad for school
• At least one pen

Special plug for my custom-made PushTheEnvelopE bag, which can hold all this stuff and much, much more.  Best. Bag. Ever.

At my sixth birthday party, I hit several of my guests as hard as I could with a Barbie doll for not doing what I told them to and was sent to my room for the remainder of the party, railing hysterically against the injustice of it all until I passed out. 

I was an only child.