So, my mother started last week going to this clinic thingy for chronic pain sufferers. Lucky me gets to start driving here there tomorrow (she goes four days a week I guess). This means that I have to force myself out of bed at the asscrack of dawn sevenish, to drive her almost an hour over there for a fifteen minute appointment and then drive back home. I may need rum to make it through this. You see, my body is used to being awake until about two in the morning, and then sleeping until eleven in the morning before waking up and ignoring humans for as long as possible so that I dont spread my waking-up-crankiness. I will never deny that I am hateful when I first wake up, and if you think its a wonderful idea to wake me up by shouting at me or turning a light on, prepare for hell to be unleashed upon you.

On top of this, Im like the Princess and the Pea when Im in bed. Unless Im drinking, the only place I will ever have a really good nights sleep is my own rickety single bed. When I sleep at his place its always a coin toss whether I'll actually get a couple of hours of real sleep or if I'll just have a short doze and then resume tossing and turning and listening to him snore. Which is exactly what happened to me on Saturday night when I stayed over. I was a little irritated that he started falling asleep at half past eleven, so I got huffy and turned the television off at midnight (on a Saturday) since apparently it was bedtime, and proceeded to toss and turn and listen to him snore. His bed is the size between a single and a double, and neither of us are tiny people so we fight for space on the bed. Before he rearranged his furniture, my side of the bed was against the wall, where I was pressed while he slept in the middle of the bed. Now his side is against the wall, but now Im hanging off the bed while he sleeps in the middle. So I tend to be grateful when he wakes up early in the morning and goes upstairs to watch television so that I can have a couple of hours to spread out and maybe get a comfortable few hours of sleep.

Just because Im grateful for this does not mean that I will be at all pleasant when he comes back downstairs an hour or two later to wake me up wanting to poke me. This will inevitably lead to me being pissed off and him being sooky, and just because Im a people pleaser does not mean that I dont resent myself when I go into "anything to make him happy" mode. It does not leave me fulfilled. Yes, we fought Sunday morning.

But, we got over that fight, and I chose not to start another one when he gave me a not-very-believable answer to a particular question I had. Whether it comes up again at a later date I cant say, but its filed away nonetheless. Dont fret though, Internet, we fought again before he took me home, and there were tears during the drive home, but luckily I had good friends waiting for me online with whom I could bitch to (its extra fun when other people have the exact same fights as you do), at least for an hour until he called to apologize. Its not as fun to bitch about him when he's after apologizing.

I should probably attempt to sleep now since I have to be awake again in four hours. Dont worry, I've already prepared Mother that I plan to be cranky.

Its the middle of the night, and again sleep is something which apparently Im not entitled to at the moment. It isnt like I sleep all day or anything, the latest I ever sleep is 11am, and yesterday I was awake before that. I dont nap in the afternoon or evening, so there really isnt a good reason for me to not be able to sleep at night. Yet, here I am, wide awake. There's just something niggling at the back of my mind that I cant quite put my finger on. It might be that the dishes havent been done in ages and it makes regular kitchen work difficult. Maybe its the thought of having to be up at an ungodly hour to take my mother to the pain clinic four days a week starting next week. Actually, that's probably it, not the having to get up early, but the fact that, as time passes, she gets more and more dependent, especially on me. To say its overwhelming can be an understatement at times. And really, its not her that makes it really hard, its my father. Im not going to bother delving into things, but suffice it to say that if he was out west (where we'd all like him to be) there would be a lot less stress on me and this house. As stressful as it can be, I can handle having to parent my mother when he's not around treating me like Im nothing more than a serf.

Sometimes I wonder if Im just giving up by allowing her to become so dependent on me in my mid-twenties, but when I sit down and think about it I'll honestly be surprised if she's alive in ten years. I dont like to have to admit that, but she has serious health issues now, and I dont see it getting better. Combine it all with her weight and we have to face reality. Dont get me wrong, its not at all that I want to have to essentially give up my life, but there isnt anyone else to do it. If I thought that this place wouldnt fall apart if I moved out, I'd be making plans to go, because damn sometimes i just need a break.

On a side note, I've fallen in love with Mayday Parade. Three Cheers for Five Years has been my favorite song for at least six months now (top played in iTunes), but recently I downloaded all of their songs and have become quite smitten. I'd have to say my new "second-favorite" song by them would have to be The Last Something That Meant Anything.

I tried sleeping, but that was a failure. Pity, since I am rather tired.

Today we're trying this new thing where I go for the grocery order myself, rather than my mother go and then I have to make an extra trip for additional running around. This way, I do all the running around on one day, and then she goes on the regular day with the girls and picks up what we may have run out of. I can see this actually working. Today was rather fun, especially since Corrine accompanied me on my adventures, although she missed the part where I stood in front of the bottle depot with tears streaming down my face (damn wind), or the car ahead of me on the way in who couldnt stay on the road (despite it being lunch time, I vote that he was drunk). Plus, after today I now have a yearlong supply of free maxi pads on a shelf in the freezer room pantry (if we can have a foyer now, we can certainly have a pantry). Go me.

After I finally do sleep, Im going to get up and prepare a pork roast supper in my new electric roasting oven* complete with more veggies than 4 people could possibly eat in a meal. Im even going to cook myself a sweet potato, despite having never attempted to cook those before. At least since Im the only one who likes them, I can say it tastes good no matter what.

*Holy hell that page says I can bake a friggin cake in that contraption. You totally know Im going to do that.

Its kind of funny how holing up and playing Twilight Princess for a couple of days brought me halfway out of the blahness I've been dealing with the past couple of weeks. Im not "better", but Im not as depressed as I've been. I think it started before Marilou's wedding when I just felt bigger than I was at Corrine's wedding in October. I know I've put on weight, but its nothing noticeable, because my clothes are still fitting me. I put on a pair of jeans today and they fit me like they fit me at exactly this time last year, meaning I only put on the weight I lost last spring and summer. I blame a lot of that on eating a lot more takeout and fast food since I've gotten back together with him, but I'll fully admit that I've eaten more than my share of junk food (especially chocolate) since the holidays. Between visiting people's houses, and my mother insisting on taking advantage of the after Christmas mark-downs, its been bad. And so, despite not being any bigger than I was this time last year, I feel like a whale.

This isnt good for the girl who has serious emotional and self-esteem issues. But whatever, it'll pass, it always does. I think the worst part was dealing with him being frustrated about me not being interested in sex, on top of actually feeling depressed. I mean, he can sit there and tell me how beautiful he thinks I am until he's blue in the face, but if Im really down its not going to help. Sometimes I just need to be left to deal with it myself. When Im depressed, and when I feel hideous, I dont want to have sex, I dont want to make out, I just want a little sensitivity. Faking my way through my depression is totally circa 2003-2005 and it didnt make either one of us happy then, so he's going to have to learn to just back off sometimes.

All girls are crazy, to varying degrees.

But, on the upside, I actually started getting horny earlier this week, and we had really great sex on Thursday night, and I was still wanting as of today, and I dont feel as ugly as I did last week so it seems that Im getting to a more comfortable level with my depression.

Oh, and just to complicate matters, the past couple of months my body has been trying this new thing where I start PMSing pretty much as soon as I ovulate which means that I get a whole two to three weeks of bloating, sore boobs, and fun emotions (it was totally helping the depression as you can well imagine). My girl parts can just fuck right off if you ask me.

Thanks to my brother, I learned that a person who does a lot of Ecstasy is an Etard. Thanks to this article, I leared that if you live in Canada and you do "Ecstasy", you're probably doing more meth than anything else.

In the summer of 2006, for instance, Canadian police seized 10,000 pills sold as Ecstasy that were destined for New York, and a laboratory test found they contained 80 percent methamphetamine.

Reasons like that I dont do drugs (besides refusing to be a stereotype of the town I grew up in).