A serious but necessary post about suicide

It has been more than twelve hours at this point since I had to unfriend someone for making a post stating that Robin Williams did a selfish thing. He said that staying alive would have been the "more noble route". That he purposely left his children without a father. He even went so far as to suggest that he should have hosted a benefit event instead, and that it would have cured him. Clearly, he thinks that suicide is the result of a weakness in character. I am so not okay with that.

I don't feel upset about the mere fact that I now have to remove this individual from my life because he was kind of annoying anyway and I only had one class with him in grade nine. It takes a lot for me to unfriend someone, though, and I rarely ever do it. I'm much more selective about my real life connections than Facebook. Needless to say, what he said was not something that can just be brushed off.

Come to think of it, it wasn't a real class, it was homeroom.

Let me start by saying that while the causes of clinical depression are largely unknown, weakness in character is definitely not one of them. Weakness in character does not result in suicide. You know what it does result in? Hate crimes. Ponzi schemes. Elder abuse. Animal cruelty. Get it? These are all acts whereby someone selfishly takes out their personal problems on the vulnerable citizens of our planet whom we have a duty to protect from harm. Those are the kinds things that someone with a weakness in character does. Suicide has nothing to do with that.

This is not to take away the legitimacy of the feelings that the surviving friends and family of suicide victims experience. They are 100% right to be upset, shocked, angry and everything else about it and to continue through life afterwards in the way that they feel they have to. It is a terrible thing when someone dies from suicide. Depression is not a rational process (no illness ever is), but to say that people who are suicidal are unaware of the effect that suicide will have on those who love them is to suggest that they are intellectually and morally deficient. This attitude could not be more wrong or offensive.

There is a memorial group on Facebook for a young woman from my high school who died from suicide. I only remember her by name, really, but I know, even if only in a small way, what she struggled with. Her mother often posts a poem she wrote. The line that always stands out is "If love could have saved you, [name omitted], you never would have died." When I try to think about the state of mind you are in when you are about to take your own life, that is how I picture it. You are so overwhelmed from fighting the internal monster that love won't save you. It doesn't mean you don't know, at least at a deeply hidden level, that people love you and will miss you.

So here are the things I would like to clarify:

The only reason we know for sure why a person commits suicide is that they lost their struggle with a terminal illness.

Guilt trips are not in any way a cure for depression. All you can hope to do through guilt trips is to make a depressed person feel guilty and stupid. It is discouraging, not motivating.

Suicide is a very bad thing and I want people to find a way to live happily instead, but it is not a selfish act.

Mental illness is not a weakness in character. Mental illness is a legitimate illness. Whether or not it can physically be measured is neither here nor there.

That is all I needed to say. Have a great day.

My brain won't let me sleep yet, so here's a sub-par update on things.

Wait a minute, shouldn't sub-par be a good thing? You're supposed to get a low score, right? Anyway.

The bhut jolokia peppers were a success. I dried them out. It was easy enough to do; they're so spicy that mould won't even eat them.

My cousin had a baby girl on New Year's Day. She is a cutie and has such a happy face. I can't wait to go to Vancouver and see her. I've already knitted her a blanket, a hat with a flower on it, and a pair of bunny-shaped booties, and my mom picked out an adorable outfit for her. She is going to keep my knitting needles busy for years.

I have had two colds since my surgery and the difference between before and after is insane. Before, it was absolutely miserable. Now, it's just a nuisance. I also find that I only need to take my allergy spray twice a week, which is great because I don't have drug benefits.

My nose is big news, folks.

If anyone is ever unsure about going through with an adenoidectomy, I suggest that if your doctor says you're a good candidate for it, just do it. Even if you think you're okay to leave them there, you're not. They're inhibiting your ability to breathe through your nose (you are used to it being harder and you will feel the difference right away), they're trapping allergens and germs and other air pollutants between them, they're making it more difficult to deal with upper respiratory tract infections, they might contribute to a deviated septum, they are making your voice sound nasal, and they could potentially cause you to have sleep apnea down the road if they haven't already. Perhaps they are having other effects on you that they didn't on me. It's worth all the misery, eating nothing but goo, and morphine-induced constipation in the end. It's only a week of your 80-ish-year life and it leads to the latter years being a whole lot better.

The main ingredient in U-No-Poo is morphine.

I am applying to a few graduate certificate programs at Centennial College. I decided it would be better to accumulate a bit more student debt and be able to pay it off faster with a better paying job than to make tiny payments with a low-paying job, accumulate an unreasonable amount of interest and not be able to save anything for law school anyway. My first choice is Paralegal, followed by Project Management and Financial Planning. Paralegal would be great, because in Ontario, that's just a few steps short of a lawyer, and would be an awesome thing to have on my law school application. It will be amazing to be finished with fast food for good. Seriously. I've had all I can take of it.

I ordered some leggings from Modcloth. I got plain black ones, sparkly black ones with zippers, and a pair with a space print on them. I am liking ordering clothes online a lot better than I thought I would. In comparison, going to the mall is a pain in the ass. There is no guarantee that I will find something in the entire mall that I will like, and it is much more important for me to wear clothes that I like than to keep up with fashion trends no matter how much I hate them. Online, I don't have to go anywhere and spend an hour walking around. If I don't find something I like on one site, I can go to one of hundreds of others in seconds. Mind, I have yet to have that problem with Modcloth.

In conclusion, this is the end of my post. Goodnight.

Now I Do Not Adenoid Forever - The Story of How I Goodbye Adenoid

One important thing that nobody tells you before you have surgery for the first time in your life is that when they gas you out, you burp up some of the gas after you wake up. Also, they don't tell you that the hallway leading to the operating rooms is designed to look like you are not supposed to be there. I guess that's because unless you are the patient or a member of the surgical team, you really aren't supposed to be there. But seriously, it's creepy. The walls and doorways are flat.

The first thing I noticed after waking up, aside from the oxygen mask, my neck and ears being sore and my arms being numb, was that my breathing was instantly better. It didn't feel as though I was straining to breathe before, but that's because I had been breathing like that all my life and it just felt normal to me. Now it feels like I'm diverting the trade winds with each breath. I'm also sleeping a lot better as a consequence - I feel refreshed when I wake up now because instead of snoring like a jumbo jet trying to fly out of a black hole, I get an adequate amount of oxygen.

I feel much better two weeks later than I did for the first few days after the surgery. Adenoidectomy is rarely performed in adults (in the 25 years my surgeon has been practicing, I am the third adult he has done it for), but when it is, it is a very different recovery. It wasn't as bad as, say, breaking an arm - that is, if I remember breaking my arm correctly - but the only thing that helped at all (and even still not a lot) with the pain was morphine and cold water. Other pain medications wouldn't touch it. Talking and swallowing were agonizing. I'm thankfully off it now, but even two weeks later, if I miss a dose of ibuprofen, swallowing gives me the sensation of my soft palate driving a nail into the bottom of my cranium. Knowing all of this, though, I would do it again if I had to go back. I don't miss my adenoids at all.

Yes, this means that a part of my body was cut out and incinerated and I am happy about it.

Also, I started my job this week. It's part time, so I'll likely need a second job. I already have been selected for a phone interview for another job. Hopefully I'll get it and finally have enough money to sustain myself.

And that's it. I'm done. Don't make me write any more.

The Stylish Surprise

So, right out with it - I got this dress, but with red stripes instead of white. I'd say it was worth it! I actually prefer it with the red stripes. I will definitely order another stylish surprise.

I had a dream the night I ordered it that I got a dress with the same colours, but a different style. It was a cotton dress with lace trim on the top and clearly made for someone with a larger bust, but because of the neckline I was still able to wear it without exposing my entire bra. Then this awesome lady from this awesome video told me, "Are you sure that dress fits you? Girl, that dress is way too big on the top." Fortunately, the dress I got fits me perfectly.

In case she ever reads this: Your fortune-telling skills in complete strangers' dreams are not up to par. You should work on that.

My future was rewritten just over a week ago and my surgery has been moved to TOMORROW. I am very happy about this. I am not necessarily excited for the procedure itself, but the results (i.e. breathing better and not snoring) will be awesome.

Also, as of today I have a job stuffing pitas. I start training on Tuesday. Yay for not being piss poor anymore!

How I Met Homer and Bart Simpson in Real Life

For my thirteenth birthday, I went on a cruise with one of my childhood friends and her mother. One morning as we were heading to the elevator, I witnessed an exchange between an overweight, balding man in jeans and a white t-shirt and his blond son wearing a t-shirt and shorts. They might have been blue and orange, but I guess I can forgive a ten-year-old boy for not wanting to wear the same outfit every day, especially on vacation, in case I do not remember correctly.

Anyway, they were having a conversation about how the son knew where all of the "old people" were staying. The dad asked him, "How do you know?"

He answered, "I knocked."

I was expecting the dad to teach him a lesson in manners, but instead, he replied, "Let me try!" and proceeded to knock on a complete stranger's door just to see if the occupants were old. That's where the story ends. I never saw Homer and Bart again. Not in real life, anyway.

Now for the updates, since it has been a while.

I am scheduled to have my overgrown adenoids removed in the middle of December (finally). I cannot wait. The thought of breathing and sleeping better is simply amazing. I don't even care that I will be sore on Christmas, I just want them out.

I ordered one of Modcloth's Stylish Surprises. I have been meaning to try it out for a while, but I keep missing it every time. Not this time! I am excited to see what I get. I paid $15 for either a skirt, top, dress or jacket in my size that will be worth $30-300. Based on some blog posts and Facebook posts I have read, it is usually worth it, although some people get something totally horrible like this snake dress. I may or may not post a picture of what I get when it comes.

And now to plow through the rest - still no job, coloured my hair brown and got a new hair cut, harvested some dwarf sunflower seeds yesterday to plant later, tea seeds rotted again and are being eaten by worms but I will try again indoors when the bugs are away for the winter, successfully grew ghost chilies in Canada on the first try, started knitting curtains for my window but one of the needles went missing and hasn't resurfaced so I can't finish it yet, had the best grapes of my life today, can't fall asleep before 3:00 anymore.

That's it for tonight. I leave you with this awesome article about welfare.

The text in the second/broken image meme reads, "Oh, you spent your welfare check on the new iPhone and now you're broke? Better ask Siri where you can get a job like the rest of us!"

I's gone done graduated AKA if Whitby were an operating system, it would be Linux

Convocation was on the 5th. I got hooded and was given a very pretty piece of paper. So that's it. I officially have been conferred a bachelor's degree in music history and the responsibilities, privileges and magic powers thereof.

I think it means that it will come in handy when McDonald's runs out of paper towels in the kitchen.

It's bittersweet. It's a reminder of what I have done and can do, which I really need every once in a while because like the rest of us who have been aware since childhood of having a higher level of intelligence than most, I have an existential crisis whenever I can't do something. I can look at it and remember all the fun I had along the way and how the handful of things that pissed me off didn't ruin it all. But it also signifies, or at least it will for the duration of my rut in the suburban level of Sartre's Hell, that those times are over. That really hit me hard when we had to rush home after the ceremony because I had to leave without saying goodbye to anyone, and that really hurts. I don't know if I will have the opportunity to go back and visit or get to see any of my friends and professors again because it's such a hardship to travel to Waterloo without a car.

True story: it is easier and cheaper to travel to Whitby from Waterloo via Greyhound/public transit and it takes less time.

People who say that only boring people get bored never had to live in Whitby. This joke of a list of events is what I mean. I can tell you, several decades in advance, that even as a senior citizen, I will not participate in Seniors' Month. Earth Week, Earth Hour and Family Day are not unique to Whitby. The outdoor events, including the ones that are less boring than the others, are always ruined by screaming kids and chain smokers.

If I have to keep living in Whitby until I am a senior, I most certainly will become a crazy bird lady and I'll be known as that crazy old lady who wears an ugly Christmas sweater covered in bird shit all year round.

I'm aching to get out of Whitby (the whole Durham region for that matter) for good. I have no attachments to the place. It was never my home. I have never been fond of it. Its infrastructure is garbage - there are easily more than thirty salons but less than ten grocery stores and the current state of public transit is such that a ten-minute drive takes an hour by bus. If you want to do anything fun, you have to leave the city. There are no special places and there is no culture. I can't think of anything I will miss about it when I finally leave. If I had the means, I would pack up and leave tomorrow. Whitby is the result of a derpy city planner turning a small farming town into a suburb. It's the best place in the world for people who are content to spend all of their free time in front of their computers because that way, they don't have to feel like they're missing out on the outside world.

In other words, Linux users.

That's it for the night. Even people in ruts have to sleep once in a while. Who knew?

Impotent Impotables

I awoke this morning to a weird smell in the house. It was very different from anything I have ever smelled. Nobody could figure out what it was. It was obviously not gas, definitely not food, and resembled burning and chemicals. It spread rapidly throughout the house. We wanted to make sure the house wasn't going to catch fire, so we called the fire department. It took them a few minutes, but eventually they figured it out and they pronounced our fridge dead. Thankfully, we have a spare fridge in the garage and my mom was able to bring her mini fridge back from her office, but it's nowhere near enough room for all of our crap. It was a good excuse to get rid of our rotten stuff, at least, but now we need a new fridge.

My Doberman puppy swallowed a cooked chicken bone whole yesterday. He's made it a day and a half without any problems, so chances are he will be okay. It's just a matter of waiting until he passes the bone.

Two of the sunflower seeds have sprouted, the radishes are sprouting like crazy, the green onions are just sprouting and the spinach seeds have been planted. We also got a cucumber plant, which will go in a pot tomorrow, and some peas because the Doberman ate my pack of pea seeds.

Purity balls are the creepiest thing I have ever come across. Young girls wearing the same white dress dance around a cross and pledge TO THEIR FATHERS to stay "pure" until marriage. That is just wrong and gross and barfy. If this practice isn't abolished in my lifetime, I will at least suggest changing the definition of "purity balls" to a clean-shaven, shiny, smooth, perfectly sculpted ball sack. That way, these creepy dads will have to face their gay sides for a split second and be too uncomfortable to think about purity balls because they threaten their precious masculinity. Maybe it will make them finally want to take the truck nuts off of their pickup trucks.

In the mean time, I will invent truck ovaries.

So, what does any of this have to do with the title of this post? Well, most of it has nothing to do with it. As a result of downsizing the fridge, I had to throw out what was left of my cappuccino martini and a third of a bottle of Gewürztraminer. The latter is my favourite wine, so I had a final glass of it and helped finish off a bottle of St-Remy a la creme. It is a sad day for us lushes.