rants

So last night I was moving around the furniture in my bedroom, putting the bed against the opposite wall. Specifically because the, erm, moving of furniture next door had kept me up the night before. I was fucking with my feng shui because I didn’t want to hear the neighbours fucking. My chi has become unbalanced because of their balancing acts on the couch.

It’s a bit rude, #305, to have an orgy and not invite me, the person who’s been forced to listen in due to the rice-paper walls of this building. Granted I have ten years of experience on you and my good looks might be intimidating, but if you watch closely you might learn something.

Also, unlike you, I don’t have to fake it.

So Friday night was interesting. Now I know that the girl next door likes to be spanked. She had people coming in and out (*cough*) of her apartment for several hours, and according to my unintentional observations the evening went something like this:

10 TURN ON STEREO REALLY LOUD
20 TURN OFF STEREO
30 HAVE GROUP SEX
40 GOTO 10

Interestingly had it not been for instructions 10 and 20 I might’ve fallen asleep and never heard any of her un-Christianlike conduct, but because of the stereo I was up, and I discovered while brushing my teeth that my bathroom acts as an amplifier of the sounds next door. This is award-winning architecture, let me tell you, because there’s nothing I want more than to be serenaded by “YES YES OH OH OH… YES!” while on the can.

I was pretty pissed off about all of this at first but as I was moving my bed around yesterday I remembered myself 10 years ago when I got my first apartment, and realized that, well, I had a lot of fun too. Though not with so many people at once since I’m just not that organized. So I can’t really judge, though maybe I’m half impressed and half wondering if she’s recently turned to prostitution (that’s not judgment, that’s imagination).

I need to write her a note anyways asking that she move her stereo to a different wall and to not operate loud appliances in the middle of the night (she’s generally pretty good, but on average she probably bothers me one night a week) and I’m wondering if I should hint at the fact that I was made aware of her extracurricular activities on Friday. Would it help if I gave her a verbal high-five, and then suggested that her bedroom is a perfectly good location for that sort of thing?

Being a good and honest person is dumb. I’m not going to get anywhere if I keep this up.

There was a weird clerical error at work where they forgot to sign me up for health benefits. “Professionals” get health coverage from day 1, the rest after 3 months, but somehow my info got filed under “must be some customer support minion or something” and ignored*. When I asked about my health plan delay and they discovered the mistake the HR people were apologetic and said they’d get it sorted and would backdate the coverage to my first day of work.

I started on August 4th.

They backdated it to June 7th.

I thought that was odd and I reread the documents. I then looked in my personal calendar to find out the dates for the $4K I’d dropped in dental bills last summer. Ah, yes: June 9th.

I could’ve stayed quiet. I could’ve submitted those dental bills and gotten up to $3K of that money back. But nooooooooooooooooo. I’m a good person. GAWD.

Instead, I wrote an email to HR informing them of the date discrepancy. To which they responded with a thanks for bringing the problem to their attention, and that they’d get that corrected right away.

Damn.

I’m actually quite upset about this. I’m not entirely convinced that the shame I’d feel about submitting pre-job medical expenses would be worse than the feeling of just having said no to three thousand guilt-ridden dollars. I would’ve used the money for altruistic purposes (help support the economy through purchase of electronic goods) and probably would’ve felt okay about the whole thing in the end. But now I can’t.

I’m not sure I like me as a morally upright and decent human being. Maybe it’s this stupid niceness everyone exhibits around here that’s rubbing off on me. Perhaps I’ll go out and trip some old ladies on the sidewalk, just to even it up.

*Possibly because I’m too cute to be a database administrator.

Former Friend just answered the question ‘Do you think Gillian Gunson is selfish?’ about you. Click here to see more.

First of all: Fuck you, Former Friend. If you care so much that I’m selfish to the point that you’re filling out stupid Facebook quizzes over this, perhaps you could just just tell me how you feel directly. Or, if you wanted to let me know that you didn’t find me selfish, you could’ve just saved yourself the effort. I would have just assumed that, had I put any thought into it at all, which I didn’t.

I hate these Facebook apps. They just suck. Thank God for the “Hide” button (or, in cases such as this, the “Remove From Friends” link). I don’t care how good you are at Bedazzled, or which 70s TV star you’d be if its 20 bullshit questions had any actual basis in reality. Or how much you’d pay for me to be your prize pig on your imaginary farm or something. If you know me at all, do you really see me playing along with your delusions?

Just so you know, I don’t unfriend people because of one stupid online faux pas. It usually takes about 5 and a disregarded warning for me to consider the person not worth my time. Maybe this makes me come across as a bit tight-assed over the whole thing, but I am thinking about the other person too: they deserve better than to have a supposed friend see them as a complete dick with no internet manners nor a general sense of when to STFU. Just sayin’.

When I tell people I’m a fan of Coronation Street they tend to look at me in the same way as when I tell them I have a cat, as if I’ve just proven that I’m weird or something. Even from the people who also have cats. They don’t understand, but Coronation Street is one of those shows that once you start watching, there’s a point at which you can’t stop watching and two hours out of every week for the rest of your life (or the show’s, but I figure my life will end sooner) will be spent wondering when they’re going to kill off Dierdre already. Or Gail. Please, I can’t stand either of them.

That show has been criticized, over the years, for being not exactly with the times in terms of societal issues or the changing norms. Hell, it is hard to believe that most of these characters all live and work in the same block, date and marry mostly within themselves, and only ever go to one pub… But I digress, it’s TV, you have to pretend it makes sense even though it’s not the 60s anymore.

So, yeah, Corrie is definitely behind. Their first openly gay character, their first teenage pregnancy, their first (well, only) transsexual were all in the last decade. Murders, extramarital affairs, these have been around for ages, but you know, teen pregnancy is so much worse. Welcome to the 20th century, people. Okay, maybe there are a lot of conservative granny types who’ve been watching the show since it was in black and white and perhaps you have to ease them into the real world at half speed so they never have to catch up.

Fine.

One thing that’s been bugging me for a year or so now (and, those in the UK will have to realize that the CBC is close to a year behind in our Corrie episodes) is that despite the acceptance of transgendered people, gays, teen mothers, and murderers, depression and anxiety disorders are still bad and wrong. Nice priority list, writers.

There was a murder trial in the show a while back, where a woman was on trial for killing her boyfriend. We totally knew she did it, but that’s beside the point. Both her mother and her neighbour were put on the stand as character witnesses, but their testimony was rejected because

1. The mother had had a couple anxiety attacks in the last week or so, ergo she’s crazy,
2. The neighbour had had postpartum depression (which is oh so rare in this world, right?) a few months previous, ergo she’s fucking crazy.

They couldn’t get the earlier postpartum depression right, either. Rather than having the woman be, you know, depressed, they had her get psychotic and take her baby back to the hospital, trying to return it for a refund (or, for exchange, I can’t remember). I know that’s more interesting to watch than having a woman lying about the house, but I think it’s incredibly insulting to the viewers to portray PPD this way, without any sympathy for the character, and with less sensitivity than they gave to, say, the gay characters. Like it’s wrong to be prejudiced against gays, transsexuals, and people of other races, but those with mental disorders are fair game? The long-gone PPD keeps getting mentioned, too, like the character’s always going to be chronically weird in the head because of that one episode.

Oh, and out of nowhere Dierdre had her first ever panic attack, being in her 50s and all (I was hoping it was a heart attack, but alas). She thinks she’s going to die and she’s taken to the hospital and is told it’s this thing called “anxiety disorder” (or a similar term). And when she’s back at home she reads aloud from the pamphlet she was given on the topic, because nobody has ever heard of anxiety before, so please enlighten us oh annoying TV show character. And then she goes around for a while afraid to do anything in case she has another panic attack, and is deemed nutso by various other characters. Ugh.

And even more: a long while back I remember this other mother asked her kids to go to family counseling with her to help them all get over the fact their stepfather tried to drown them all in a murder-suicide. But nooooooo we’re not going to counseling, counseling means you’re crazy, etc. etc. Yeah, ’cause having survived a murder attempt by a family member is totally the norm and nothing that one would be traumatized over.

Man, written out like this, the whole show sounds kinda stupid. If only I could stop watching!

Having dealt with depression off and on in my life, all this kinda pisses me off. I’ve been told by various people that this is how British society thinks anyways, that going to a therapist is admittance of failure and depressive disorders only happen to a few fucked up people. I hope it’s not this bleak, but I don’t know, since I’m not there.

Given the statistics, depressive episodes are so prevalent in modern society (but obviously not in England) that they might as well be considered normal and not fussed over. I have been surprised to find out that many with-it and happy-go-lucky friends and colleagues have suffered from depression multiple times in their lives; they just managed to hide it well enough so that others probably thought they had the flu or were on vacation or something. Hell, my last few episodes were so minor that people only found out when I told them, and I’m oversensitive and emotional. I’ve had much worse, but luckily not in recent years; I think I’ve gotten better at dealing with it, because I’ve sought treatment in the past.

So why is it so embarrassing? Why can’t we admit that it happens? Why can’t we accept that since it happens to so many of us, to a greater number than those who are hospitalized or on disability, that maybe it’s treatable and sufferers (prior or current) don’t deserve being stigmatized for it? Why can’t sufferers come forward and talk openly about their experiences?

And, just in my life, it annoys me that in retrospect I should never have told my previous company about my depressive episodes (which I never lost productivity for), since various management and human resources people bothered me about it. And perhaps I also shouldn’t have written it down on my more recent health insurance application form at the current job, since the insurance company insulted me with a “Nervous Problems Questionnaire” yet didn’t ask for further information about the knee and back problems also mentioned in the form. Why should I have to lie, or withhold information, if I’m not embarrassed about my mental health history? Why does society want me to feel embarrassed?

Perhaps I should just never mention my history with depression, Coronation Street or my cat, if I want to be seen as normal.

This rant has been on the backburner of my brain for a while now, but The Globe and Mail’s Breakdown series on the treatment of mental health issues in Canada reminded me of it. Go check it out. Maybe putting faces to the disorders and listening to experts will help just a little bit in getting these topics out in the open. Speaking of faces:

I am now the most miserable man living. If what I feel were equally distributed to the whole human family, there would be not one cheerful face on Earth. Whether I shall ever be better, I cannot tell. I awfully forebode I shall not. To remain as I am is impossible. I must die or be better, it appears to me.

-Abraham Lincoln, 1841 (19 years before inauguration, quote found here)