Things I Wanted To Save When I Cleared Out My E-mail Inbox

A few days ago, I decided that I had to get my e-mail inbox under control. It wasn't as wildly out of control as some people's are, but I had about 375 e-mails sitting there, a couple dating as far back as 2007, and every time I signed in, there they sat judging me. I always wondered What have I left undone?

Over the course of the day, I took my inbox down from 375 to 12 e-mails, and my inbox has suddenly stopped haunting me with its perpetual message of my likely colossal failure. If you have an inbox like mine was, I suggest taking a day and killing it. It's been surprisingly freeing to my mind and my sense of well-being.

While I cleaned out my inbox, a handful of things popped up that I wanted to note, and the following snippets are little pieces of my life I didn't want lost to my Gmail archives, because they each point to specific points of time in my slow sea change over the last few years that I want to keep pinned down chronologically.

This is more like personal note-taking out loud.

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MARCH 2009

(The following is my present response to an e-mail I was sent by a counsellor I saw briefly in 2008 but who continued to read my weblog and help me out behind the scenes without my knowing that I had a kind ally within the mental health system. It was a revelation, and she permanently altered the course of my life.)

Dear Bev,

I have no idea if you are still reading this weblog at all, since our last communication was in March of 2009, but I want you to know that I still think of you and the work that you did for me.

At the time, I was lost on waiting lists within the mental health system, too unwell to properly care for my own mental health but not unwell enough to land me in a psychiatric ward, and you heard me. You read my stories here and found me the help I needed at a time when the mental health system in my city seemed to be the least humane. Through a few sessions with a new counsellor, thanks to you, I was able to garner some skills to help me process some of my anxiety, and that has taken my life from barely livable to one for which I feel grateful. You heard me, you helped me, and you changed my life.

Thank you.

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MAY 2009

A friend urged me to "...fill a pigeon with rice, glitter and hundreds of little notes saying I'm outta here... and push it into the HR office".

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AUGUST 2009

I wrote five blog posts for NBC Universal. I never saw my name attached to any of them published online, but I was paid for them, and that cheque bought us a couple of weeks of groceries. Eating makes writers happy.

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OCTOBER 2009

The Palinode sent me video interviews he did of me talking about blogging and quitting smoking:





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NOVEMBER 2009

I went on CBC radio two or three times over the course of the month to talk about my experience participating in NaNoWriMo. I was a little freaked out, because I was still an anonymous blogger and was terrified to have myself outed so publicly. I ended up with my anonymity intact, but I had dreams that I legally changed my name to Schmutzie Pickles while wearing a big, red clown nose.

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I had no idea that clearing out my inbox would free up so much of my energy or that it would be such a This Is Your Life type of experience, but it was, so take a few hours and give your life a good digital clearing. You might be surprised at what you find.

How I Try To Save The World From My Allergy Face, Because It Ain't Pretty

I wrote this post while participating in a blog tour conducted by Clever Girls Collective on behalf of Claritin®. I have been compensated for my time commitment to the program.

Up until about the time I was thirty years old, I had no allergies to speak of aside from a nearly deathly reaction to penicillin, and so I had no symathy for those who did suffer from allergies. I actually thought people were just being whiny when they said they couldn't breathe or see.

I know now what a huge jerk I was.



Since turning thirty, my eyes start weeping at the first sign of spring melt, which is quickly accompanied by the swift shut down of both my sinuses and nasal passages, and that situation holds steady right up until the end of June. I was never much of a housekeeper before, and I'm still pretty horrible at it, but I've learned a few things that help to keep my reactions down (aside from getting rid of my three cats, of course, even though I really shouldn't have them because of my allergies, but my stupid love for them demands that I keep them).

1. I used to have a lot of throw pillows in my living room. They were a mismatched motley crew of vintage velvet cushions that looked fantastic, but they were also fur and dust traps that made the inside of my head swell up. I have since gotten rid of my beloved collection, and it makes lounging around in the living room a much happier experience. Also, truth be told? I like that there is less clutter now.

2. That blind eye I used to turn to the non-sentient fluffballs rolling down my hallway? Yeah. That means not breathing while I sleep, and they don't impress house guests, either. I now chase down cat fur tumbleweeds and other dustbunnies with my Dyson hand vac on a regular basis, and I am a happier sleeper.

3. I find that my sofa can be quite the allergen trap, so I regularly vacuum in and around the cushions, and I keep a bright throw over my sofa that I wash a couple of times a month. The splash of colour livens up our rather dull, brown sofa, too.

4. This part, although it seems like a blatant product placement, is true. I wasn't even asked to mention it here, but I really do take Claritin every morning when I get up. It keeps me from looking like I've been crying for days. I'm much better looking when my eyes aren't swollen and leaking.

5. I cannot be indoors with live flowers anymore, so blooms like the one pictured above from my mother-in-law's garden have to be left outside. It's all cacti all the time now inside. There is a surprising array of beautiful cacti out there, though, especially succulents, so I don't miss the flowers at all. Also, cacti are really easy to care for, and they don't drop leaves, so there's less clean-up! I'm all about less clean-up.



Do you do anything to keep the allergen levels down in your home and yard? What works best?

For more tips on relieving allergies visit www.Facebook.com/Claritin. I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective, which endorses Blog With Integrity, as I do.

The Top Ten Things I Love About Taking A Bath

Top Ten Things I Love About Taking A Bath

1. Singing. Some like to sing in the shower, but I can hear myself much better in the bath.


2. Feeling beautiful. Everyone is beautiful when they're in water.


3. Drinking coffee. Something about drinking a hot liquid while in a hot bath just wreaks of decadence.


4. Being left alone. The cats, those three needy freaks we house and feed and poop herd, leave me alone. I swear that they are the reincarnation of human toddlers.


5. Watching Netflix on my laptop (from a safe distance where my laptop is on a very stable chair, of course).


6. Floating boobs. Boobs float. It's awesome.


7. Being forced to sit still. I am too warm and wet to be able to jump up and worry about getting a thousand things done. When you're in the bath, you're in the bath, and that's that.


8. Smelling like soap and bath bubbles.


9. Increased flexibility. With all of the heat, I limber up enough to touch my toes. I performed woefully on flexibility test in phys. ed. class even as a child in elementary school.


10. Fart bubbles. You know they're funny. Does anyone have a match?

Me at Aiming Low: How To Turn Sloth Into A Creative Project That Cleans Your Floors

"How To Turn Sloth Into A Creative Project That Cleans Your Floors":

The next time you hear someone talking about sloth like it is some kind of deadly sin, don’t listen to them. I, Schmutzie, a person who once used embroidery thread as dental floss for several days rather than leave the house, managed to finish two whole tasks while doing little more than rolling around on the floor and using my clicky finger.

Niceness And Underwear

Must we do this? Label every goddamn kind of person, try to pare humanity down into useless subsets so groups of us can declare some kind of solidarity without any actual community involvement?

"The so-called Cheeseburger Bill [in the United States] bans frivolous lawsuits against producers and sellers of food and non-alcoholic drinks arising from obesity claims."

It is likely that it was the ETA who bombed the commuter trains in central Madrid, Spain during morning rush hour injuring 1200 and killing approximately 200 commuters.

More on the nice front: Rose, a lady who works where I do, just came in and picked up a package of scented candles and some chocolates, because she wants to thank the dentist and dental assistant who worked on her last week. Rose hadn't been to the dentist in twenty years out of fear, and these two people took such good care of her. She asked me if that was too much to do for them, and I encouraged her, because I bet dentists and their assistants have a hard time getting nice words out of anyone. Just seeing how nice Rose is has put me in a good mood.

I must salute the jury responsible for this year's Canadian Governor General's Visual and Media Arts Awards. Thanks for picking Istvan Kantor!

It's funny how much medicine has started finding out about women's bodies since they started studying them not so long ago. Our fertility is not necessarily like what medicine once thought.

Sinead O'Connor just had her third child. When did she have the second? Shows how much I keep up.

Lately, I have become more cleanliness-and-order conscious around the apartment, and this has included doing the previously hidden mound of laundry that has been stashed in the back of the closet for eons. While working my way through this pile, I came across many pairs of underwear that I had forgotten about and many I wish had not resurfaced. I am like a guy when it comes to underwear. I don't mean to be sexist; I'm just relying on my personal experience with men. I found underwear from grade eleven, and not just one pair, but several. If you know how old I am, you will now be appropriately appalled at that fact. They're not even a nice kind that I would ever buy. They're that off-white, champagney colour verging on grey with one remaining hanging tatter of the original lace applique left on the right hip. They are an unidentifiable form of synthetic fabric. All of the cotton lining in the gusset looks shredded. I don't what my nether parts do, I mean they're toothless, but they manage to shred cotton with ease. I found another pair of underwear that I don't even recognize. They are navy blue (I hate that colour), they're huge (I've lost some weight, but not that much), and they've obviously been worn a lot, because the waistband does that wavy old-elastic thing. I know they're mine and not some plus-size side-love of the Fiery One's, because they have that tell-tale shredded gusset deal going on. I also found some nice black lacy numbers that I had forgotten, and they are still young enough to remain unchewed! As I went through all this underwear, I mercilessly threw out anything too holey, too degraded, and now I find myself with way too many thongs (I've never been crazy about them and can't figure out how I ended up with so many) and very few of the regular kind that actually fit and are in decent condition. So, I guess what I'm saying is, feel free to send me panties in size medium. I'm not picky about colour, just as long as they're not scratchy (always test the fabric on the inside of your elbow).

On the one hand, people freak out and say that gays cannot be given equality to other married couples under the law, and then on the other they try to make civil union sound equal but different. Fuck them.

This story was only mildly interesting to me until I came upon the line “...leggy honey-blond...”, which refers to a witness who is-or-was an underage prostitute. This is unfortunate. Maybe Lynn Moore can stand by this piece of shit writing, but I can’t.

Spalding Gray is confirmed dead at the age of 62.