Mood: Stupid.

Please note the fancy Artwork box to the left, now with a THUMBNAIL! That was a lot more work than you’d think. Just below that, my Current Music Picks now can be updated dynamically. So my sudden urges to blast Metallica’s Master of Puppets can be duly noted. I can also add, edit and delete posts. So you’ll see a few less 5am ramblings about cottage cheese.

I’m pretty proud of this site, function-wise. I think the design is at the very least “competent” if not “okay” but it definately needs an overhaul. I’ve signed up for the May 1st Reboot and that may be a good time to upgrade the site. We’ll see how April goes.

Mood: Perky

…Okay I don’t have Head Cancer, just plain ol’ run-of-the-mill Lymphoma. I get the final diagnosis on Wendesday, which will be my first appointment as a member of the Ottawa Regional Cancer Centre.

It’s funny, because I’ve never really cared for the ORCC. Infact, I find myself constantly mocking their logo because I believe it to be pure shit.

I mean…LOOK at that thing. What the hell is it? It’s a SQUARE with a TRIANGLE in it. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo. I suppose it’s at least TRYING to be good looking. But why is it pointing WEST!? West is the symbolic direction of DEATH (The Sun sets in the west, which symbolizes the end of life for literally HUNDREDS cultures around the world across the history of mankind, including our own), and I don’t think you want cancer patients pre-occupied with thoughts about death, do you?

Perhaps someone could come up with an alternative logo that I could print onto sticker paper and cover up the crappy logo throughout the ORCC? Maybe they’ll think it’s some kind of official change and just go with it?

Mood: Cancerous

Mood: Diagnosed.

Take, for example, what I’m going through right now. I will be starting chemotherapy in the very near future. This normally renders a male completely sterile after the full treatment. In order to have some chance of having my own children someday, I will have to “bank” my sperm. This requires me to abstain for a certain length of time, then “obtain a sample” (read: jerk off) and bring it to the storage facility within 1 hour. See? Organized Masterbation. Think of how many “samples” that are carelessly thrown away over the years, dispensed into a sock, blanket, or simulated vagina. Not that I want you guys out there thinking about me the next time you are “obtaining a sample”, but I think you should at least be thankful afterwards that you could have used that for a higher purpose.

Which brings me to my next point: Fertility is a two-sided coin. Ever since adolesence, I’ve been actively trying NOT to get girls pregnant. Condoms, pills, injections, abstention (my frequent method during high school) and hundreds of other methods are used to PREVENT pregnancy. But now I find myself FIGHTING to have children someday. Something else to consider the next time you get birth control or have sex with someone purely for recreation.

So my life has pretty much turned a complete 180. I find my masterbation being organized and scheduled, and I have gone from worrying whether or not  we are pregnant to worrying if I’ll ever be a Dad. Like I said, fucked up world.

Mood: dexelpreP.

I think I’m pretty close to a complete meltdown at this point. I’m about one crisis away from just flat out losing it. I can handle a lot of stress, I’ve always sought out stressful situations because it challenges me to think and act creatively. I work well under pressure, but I think there’s a limit to that, and I may be very close to it. I definately need a dose of warm weather, a few days off to relax, and some answers. All of this, of course, will come with time. Spring will come, I’ll take some time off, and my questions will be addressed. In the meantime, if I appear a little scatterbrained, it’s because I’ve got a lot on my mind.

Take the Nature Challenge

Mood: Shaken, not Stirred

It’s very odd how people respond to you when they discover that you have cancer. So far the best random occurance involving cancer has been in a Harvey’s at lunchtime. I was talking with a buddy and the topic inevitably ended up on my having cancer. The man next to me, who was deciding what topping to put on his burger turned to me and said “Excuse me, do you have cancer?” to which I replied “Yes, yes I do.” He paused for about two seconds before responding with “My Dad has cancer” and then returning right back to his burger.

I think if anything it made him feel better than it did me.

I am having trouble telling friends, though. There are people I consider more dear to me than most of my blood relatives (you know who you are) and I’ve barely talked to them. One I even told via e-mail, and I’m really sorry about that. I’ll make it up to all of you by living another 40 years, amassing a huge wealth, and moving you all to my small island nation.

I’ve missed one person, though, but maybe that’s something I have to accept.

Mood: DONKEY!

Around the time I started working out which people in my apartment building I would most want to help and whom I would throw off the roof, I decided this event was verging on insanity and promptly stopped. Unfortunately by this point the Sun had started to rise. Oddly enough I found myself hoping a zombie would bust my door down so I wouldn’t have to get up and go to work.

I think my anxiety is taking over. Can you tell?

Mood: Aaah! Boogie man

But at least I don’t have to go to work tomorrow. And I’m peeing ORANGE (the colour of the chemo medicine. I asked for blue, but they said they were out)! I thought of taking a photo of some kind to commemmorate the occurance, but the logistics of peeing and photographing at the same time elude me right now. I’d ask for help…but man…peeing orange is weird enough as it is.

Mood: ORANGE!

The one thing that’s become very apparent is that I am no longer in control. I don’t like that. I’ve always been able to control myself and my life and figure out the cause and effect in any given situation. If I have a migraine headache or stomach cramps, it’s probably because I ate or drank something I shouldn’t have. Now I struggle to maintain the most basic daily routine, and I find myself losing the more I go.

The worst part is, this is only the beginning. The first treatment is never the worst, it’s almost always a few treatments in that you really start to be affected by it. I’ve got 7 more treatments over the next 23 weeks, and I doubt I’ll be able to maintain this pace for very long. Short Term Disability is definately going to have to be considered. If the past week is any kind of warning for what’s coming over the next 6 months, I’m in a lot of trouble.

Mood: Confiscated.