Unemployment sux

HHmmmm....what to do??? Here's the avg routine...get up 9.30; have a coffee and 2 fags while listening to talkback radio; make a 2nd coffee and turn on the computer and have 2 more fags. Browse email, Facebook and the newspaper. 10.30-ish have a shower. 10.45 breakfast. 11ish send my friend who has no landline a text then hop onto Facebook and chat to her for an hour or so. 12.30 put a museli bar in my bag and go out to a 1pm AA meeting. 3-3.30pm home again. Try phoning one or two people. Back on the net. Check the nightly television schedule. Investigate possible courses I can enrol in for some career development. Still a bit baffled as to what sort of job to apply for. One that pays, yes, I know. One that gets me off the couch and into society; that too. There's volunteer work which I'm waiting to get a response about. I'm not working in an op-shop, or doing meals on wheels. Maybe I could volunteer on the help lines at the agency who helps me look for work. Yes maybe that's a start.

Hmm....I got distracted from telling about my yawnsome routine. Not much more to tell really. Eat dinner, watch telly, go to bed. Sigh. NEEDS A JOB, I DO!!!!!!

slowwwing down, slowing down

Fark!!! I got a bit hypomanic in patches over the past 48 hours. I didn't realise how kooked up I'd been till I went out to a meeting yesterday and ended up being very verbose, yammering away at a poor lady who probably just wanted to escape. I think I know now how many elderly folk feel; at home alone (sans computer skills) maybe listening to the radio or watching telly, stroking a cat or dog if they're lucky, missing their deceased partner, their busy adult kids, their busy grandkids etc. Unlike an elderly person in the picture I've painted, I have a computer (which I've been using massively), I can walk a few km's to get the paper which my eyesight allows me to see, I can get in my car and go places, my body isn't racked with arthritis or other ailments. I have a lot of good fortune really. However for whatever reason my instinct wants me to stay indoors and prowl around like a cat, staring out the window at the passing traffic and curl up on the couch in front of the gas heater. Isolating, eating, smoking etc. Then I start to get very stir-crazy (as would anyone), so much so that when I eventually have human contact I want talk. And talk. And TALK. Just the way my gran would when she was still alive, bless her soul. So yesterday I was particularly talkative, both in 3-D then later at home in chat on Facebook. I ended up staying up late, which wasn't showing much commonsense as I had an early appointment today. Hence now, late afternoon, I am weary, but thankfully, have slowed down. It's now 4.30pm and the air has turned very cool. Time to shut the doors and stop airing out the smoke, which had begun to constitute a stench. My folks are dropping by Friday; I'm guessing they want to check that I'm looking after myself and my surroundings ok. And to snoop for evidence that I'm drinking, which I'm not. Sometimes I tell myself that's about the best thing I can say about myself today: I didn't drink. I'm bored out of my fucking mind being unemployed!!!!!!!!!!!

Telly, the gas heater and isolating

Hibernation, I believe is the correct phrase to surmise this title. Chuck in a bit of low-lying depression, some sleep apnoea and feeling unmotivated, and that's my basic portrait from the past week or so.

It's hit home that I can't spend money like I used to when working; I've been budgeting like a ferret-nosed bookish accountant. Today I bought groceries and stuck to my list looking for the 'on-special stuff' at Coles, like a 2kg unwashed bag of spuds for $2.50 and a medium sized fresh chook for $6.30. I'm going to chop the chook in half and roast it with spuds and pumpkin tonight; that should do 2 meals. I'll freeze the other chook half. So it's not all bad being frugal, foodwise at least.

I can see why lower socio-economic groups tend to have obesity problems; if you only have an extra $50 in your weekly budget it goes farther on food than on other items. I can feel like I'm spoiling myself by doing as I did today and allowing myself a couple of things that weren't on my list, like peanut M&M's and a chocolate milk. The $7.50 I spent on these things won't do my waistline etc. any favours, but what can I buy for that amount as a treat for myself? I guess I could go to the $2 shop and get some sort of knick-knack. I could go to the op-shop and hope to find a jumper or some piece of clothing that hasn't lost its shape or gotten little 'balls' on it from friction. I could find a second hand book on Amazon easily, but the shipping cost (around $15 per book to Australia) would bump it up.

In the end I bought the daily newspaper, which is always more satisfying (to me) to read than the online versions. Call me a creature of habit, but I infinitely prefer a real paper or book than e-papers or e-books. Doesn't hurt your eyes as much. Plus the feel of the paper in your fingers. Anyway I digress.

I booked my car in for a service this Friday, which will be around $100. My mobile mechanic Dan is an honest and reliable man, who doesn't charge the way most mechanics do (avg. would be at least double that).

Otherwise it's been a case of watching DVD's and telly, which can be ok, although you get a bit bored with it. The ads drive me spare. I don't feel motivated to do any screenplay writing at present. I forced myself to go out for a walk today and will do so again tomorrow, along with doing an AA meeting. Wednesday I see my psychiatrist and break the news that I am not working. He will not be pleased. What's done is done; I can't go back to work now, I need time.

Too much time, not enough $$$$

So it's nearly two weeks ago that I resigned from work. Things are ok, if a bit slow. I've gone through my last pay check like it was water; last week I told myself the $600 or so dollars I had in my account would go towards having my car serviced and going for a dental checkup. Now there's only about a hundred. I get paid this week, my final payout, which won't be huge but it will be the most I'll see for a while. I'm fortunate to have the disability pension to fall back on (with a schizoaffective diagnosis I have been deemed a legitimate recipient by all my psychiatrists, who have said that all I can manage is part time work; when I am employed I receive a part pension, not much but better than nothing). I don't intend on being unemployed long, but need to work on my workplace fears as previously mentioned.

I saw my psychologist today in a bid to work through this very thing; I also saw my D&A counsellor earlier today. The D&A lady said I need to Notice my thoughts regarding social interaction and feelings of fear and insecurity and then to Challenge them. She pointed out that the few people I have problems with (eg: when I was at work I had the bully, in AA there's a rough woman who is always rude to me) could well create problems for others too; to not view myself as an isolated case. She mentioned a heap of other stuff too which I've forgotten; I wish I could tape our sessions; she's like Yoda to me. Might have to take notes next time. She picked up that I was not in a good frame of mind in our last session and out of concern rang my psychiatrist in case I self harmed. I wrote myself off with alcohol that day, like totally, but didn't take my pills. My angst was with work. Then I had the Easter break then I quit. But anyway.

The clinical psychologist is a younger woman but has a very logical head on her shoulders. She works from her head more than the D&A lady, who tends to use intuition, experience and gut. I respect both of them, they just have a different approach. She was happy that I am nearly 3 weeks sober. Itold her I'd also been walking and going to AA, that these gave me some structure. They were up until late last week: since Sunday I have neither walked nor been at a meeting. Autumn is morphing into an early winter here; this morning it was around zero degrees Celsius in my suburb....very hard to get out of a warm bed and go walking. It's also been pretty foggy lately too.

Excuses excuses. The past week or so I have been out shopping and have spent over $500. I'm not elevated: if I were I'd be up at the crack of dawn, doing heaps of housework, emailing a million people etc etc. That hasn't happened. I suspect the expenditure has been a bit of denial on my behalf about being unemployed and having to curb my budget. Like it's been 'one last splurge' just for the hell of it. The scary thing is how easy it is to spend up on stuff you don't really need, like cheap DVD's, warm tracksuit pants (ok, I did need these and they only cost $9.99 at Dimmey's), a new grey hoodie (meant to inspire me to go out and huff 'n' puff up hills like Rocky Balboa), lunches out, coffees out etc etc.

Today at Eastland shopping centre I was killing time between appointments. A hawker with a stall stopped me to ask what face cream I used. Before I knew it, this charming well-groomed young man had me rubbing my hands over a basin using "Israeli Sea Salt" from the dead sea (purportedly). He used a spray bottle of water on my hands for me to rinse, and they felt incredibly smooth. He then put on some lovely smelling moisturiser and proceeded to tell me that normally the exfoliator ('a year's supply worth')would be $100, the moisturiser $50, but he would be happy to sell me the two for $120. I looked him in the eye and told him I'd just quit work a week or so ago. He came in close and lowered his voice and said "in that case...I can give you the exfoliator for only $50, but you must (motions to his lips) zip it and keep the price to yourself". I had a fifty dollar note burning a hole in my wallet, my last before payday this Thursday. Before I could tell myself You Don't Need This, I whipped out the wallet and smiled "ok", feeling demure, attended to and satisfied. Silly old me!!! The stuff was probably only worth half that!!! AARRGH!! A sucker for a good looking young man with a European accent. And I'm fucking gay!!! That guy must make a killing, clever fella.

Wonder how he goes picking up the chickybabes in the nightclubs??

Hospital sweet hospital

Said tongue in cheek, well...mostly. While being institutionalised for feeling suicidal and/or homicidal can hardly be regarded as fun, there can be moments of levity in a psych hospital. Like the guy I used to see out in the courtyard who took to clicking his heels sideways from time to time. One day he came out with his boots and put them on the table in front of me. Someone had thoughtfully tied up his laces tight in all sorts of knots. He slammed a fork next to them and grunted: "canya untie these for me? Some C*NT went and fucked them up". It took me a while, but my nimble fingers worked them into straight laces again. He gave me a couple of smokes for my efforts. Then there was the guy who hated being medicated. We had to line up to get our meds from a mobile trolley outside the nurses station each night. One time, after he had been given his meds, he waddled away, baring his flabby bottom, as if to say "Youse are all Arseholes". There was a girl who used to wear gaudy makeup; she got out energy by belting out The Power Ballad, circling around the courtyard screeching Celine Dion and Whitney Houston numbers. Her versions were infinitely more entertaining than the original, if a little hard on the ears. Some people liked to order in pizza, whether they had the cash or not; they'd try their luck with the delivery boy saying "we'll get you the money tomorrow". Others were more blunt, saying stuff like "if you give me the pizza, i promise not to chew off your nose". I woke up one morning only to have a huge aboriginal woman staring intently at me. "What do you want?" I cowered away; she hushed me "you sleep...you sleep". Apparently she hadn't slept for 48 hours and got relaxation watching others sleep. A couple of days later she stole all the womens' toiletries bags, picked what she wanted and put the items in the nicest bag she could find. That wasn't such a funny thing at the time, but I can laugh about it now. Finally, there was a funny guy who used to play hide and seek with the nurses during the nights, when they had to do hourly checks. He would wander out of his room, finding hiding spots. One night he bolted into my room giggling and shut himself in my wardrobe, hushing his finger to his lips. Soon after, a nurse opened the door, flashlight in hand and shone it in my face. "Is Mark in here?" she skwarked. I shook my head and she left. Mark bolted out of my wardrobe after a minute or so, giggling all the time. Of course bad stuff happened. Of course I often felt a whole lot of paranoia, fear and anger. It wasn't a holiday, not by a longshot. It really pisses me off when people say shit like: "ohhh, it must have been good going to hospital for a little rest", as if there are jacuzzis and masseurs and adonises fanning you with palm fronds. Phaw. But it's not all bad in hospital. It wasn't for me, anyway.

Going toxic???

I feel like I have a brick in my stomach. This is about the tenth time in the last month I've felt this way. A couple of weekends ago I thought I had gastro, as I had to toilet myself to relieve the symptom. Apologies for being graphic, but there's no other way to describe it.
It comes and goes, although the past weeks it's been happening more often. Then it occurred to me; I might be having a reaction to my meds. I googled "Epilim Lithium combination side effects" and went to wikipedia (aka the bible). Apparently Epilim may well be the precursor; too much and going toxic can cause nausea, diahoerrea etc.

My doctor increased my Epilim about a month ago to deal with a potential spike in speediness. I also feel light headed and dizzy; like all the blood has rushed from my head.
I just cancelled going into work, which I'm sure won't go down too well. I called my doctor and am waiting for him to ring me back.
Geez I feel sick. I'm going to lie down :(

Fight Club and movies

That's right....when I started writing my last post I meant to comment on this DVD which I just watched tonight for the first time. The "I am Jack's Medulla Oblongata" phrase which another blogger on this site has in his title self-description. It'd alwaysed perplexed me what that phrase meant (a section of the brain which controls respiratory function and other essential things) and then I heard it tonight in fight club. Huh.

So I was watching this movie thinking When Does It Get to the Good Bit and pondering hmmm...aside from the undertones of homoeroticism and gratuitous violence I fail to see the point and then Whammo. So the protagonist is hallucinating about the Brad Pitt character. It did improve the quality of the film but all the far-fetched stuff about the explosions etc was a bit out there for me. I prefered A Beautiful Mind or the Australian film Angel Baby better.

There's still room for more stories about psychosis and mood swings. It's such a shame that hollywood will only finance those that have sellable features (eg: the fighting aspect in fight club along with the whole Fuck the Establishment side).

I had a vision the other day: in the next 5 to 10 years some bright spark willl invent software that will enable people to script, edit and direct a film with virtual characters. By 2030 Hollywood will be a bygone era; the ultranet will take over and individuals will be able to produce their own feature films (distributed freely online but aided by eg: product placement).

Maybe a wonky vision, but a vision just the same.