Good-Bye ISF - Hello ES

First of all, I want to welcome you to my new blog "Edmonton Social" (www.edmontonsocial.blogspot.com) . New life, new blog. New underwear. My Hello Kitty underoos are gone. That's how it goes. My life has changed drastically in the past two months and I've made some major soul-searching achievements that I'm really proud of. I blew myself away, being able to smash that negative stigma of being fired to dust. Everyone and anyone from a British or German or northern European background with all those "good" Protestant work ethics drilled into their head at birth (I vaguely remember my father telling me to get a job at the age of 2...) are crushed under the pressure of not producing in a society. Not me. I couldn't go down that path or I would not have survived. I milked unemployment for everything it had. I had a REALLY great time, and met so many great people along the way. However, and sadly so, I will no longer be posting on "I'm So Fired" anymore. Unless, of course!, I get fired again. Which is very possible (I'll keep you updated on that).

I have my reasons for shutting down the "I'm So Fired" operation. I want to move ahead in my writing. I want to move ahead in my life and I guess identifying with being fired is now redundant (and unhealthy) for me. For the time being, I am actually hired. I'm bored of writing about being fired too, quite honestly. It has been alot of fun until now and a huge learning experience. I've gone through so many changes in my life that were much easier to share in a blog than over the phone with friends and family or through therapy sessions at the local psych ward. Everybody gets fired in their life, or "let go" or whatever management calls it nowadays. Don't invest your self-confidence in it; A job is only a job. My blog helped me not only digest the idea of being fired for "no" reason (I've pinpointed it to the Christmas party, live and learn I suppose) but being the fiercely creative and lively person I am, there is nothing I can do about it. Besides, if DW can't take a little comment like "His head is like a pin... a pinhead", or the pilot with the penis-shaped head can't relate to a bit of size comparison, then they are not the people for me.

So now you're like, what is this madness? Edmonton Social? Ha, she drilled her bedroom door shut once, she's not exactly the social type. I am. I really am. I love people. I meet new people everyday. Edmonton is this fusion of crazy, rich, homeless, native, immigrant (by immigrant, I do NOT mean those from Newfoundland, although I will talk about my Newfie friends as well), educated, ignorant, young, old...I meet people everyday, alot of people. I want you all out there to meet these people, as well. Edmonton is an amazing town, it is my home by choice, and there is no place in this world like Edmonton. I want you on this journey with me, from Victor and his brother hanging outside the Farmer's Market collecting a few bucks for food, to those (whom I won't use names for, I've been treated too well by many of these types to make this an expose) in the fast-paced, more corporate world that I've sworn off.

They're all amazing people, and have made my journey to-date possible. Edmonton does not have any "untouchables", we're all free game, and I will bring them all to meet you on www.edmontonsocial.blogspot.com. Enjoy.

Whyte Wash

I just love Whyte Ave. There are two seasons in Edmonton - winter and summer. If you manage the nine months of winter without being carted away to a mental institute, then the three months of summer (celebrated on Whyte, of course) with the neverending daylight is paradise. The only darkness in the summer months here are the insides of your eyelids after a toxic draft at the Strath-Coma. Which is what I seen until about noon today. Good times. I'm assuming. I'm deathly afraid of calling the person who uses $100 bottles of truffle oil on his veggies to find out how ill-behaved I actually was, though. I do have a distinct feeling I wasn't, either; t felt like all eyes were on me going for coffee today on Whyte. Mind you, I really should have put my pants on before going out the door. But hey, it's Edmonton, anything goes.

Down to the daily countdown to the end of my unemployment...or beginning of phase two of my unemployment. Little Miss OCD here also gets to do her CPR/First Aid training next weekend, should be quite entertaining for everyone involved, "Is he breathing yet? You sure he's breathing? No man, I really don't think he's breathing yet...". Soon little autistic kids everywhere are going to think brushing their teeth three times in a row is perfectly normal. It amazes me how I've made it through life so far.

What do you wear to a baseball game?

The Balancing Act

It appears that I, me, now has a job. There are a few things that could change that in the next few weeks so please keep your expectations low for me. Mom, you've already got your expectations set completely below where the scale of expectations even begins, so that's good, and thanks for that.

I will be working with developmental disabilities. There is no gray area for autistic kids. If they hate me, I'm done, job gone, so this is the big test. I'm going to do alot of research on autism the next couple of weeks so if anyone has any insight out there, pass it along via email, jo_annehampton@yahoo.com.

Why is this what I want? For now, and this can change at any moment (because I'm me) but there are three types of people out there. The first type are the you and me's of the world playing the game but separated from type two by a few million/billion dollars. Then there is the third type, the people who neither can play the game or make the game. It is a different world for them and considering I spend half my life in my own little world myself, it's not a far stretch for me to understand and help them brush their teeth in the mornings.

Besides, I can never again in my life ever work for the type two DKs and DWs of the world. I'll stroke out. I like putting my Hello Kitty underwear and cargo pants on in the morning and trying to explain to a client that maybe banging their head on the pavement won't get them exactly what they want but lets talk it out, maybe it will, who knows. You couldn't talk it out with DK. He'd just keep banging YOUR head on the pavement until he got what he wanted. DKs not a big bacon fan, by the way.

All in all, it appears that I am performing the balancing act quite well. Met some great people since I've been home, too. It's been a great week in Edmonton and I'm just all around really happy right now. I have to also point out that anyone who puts $100/bottle truffle oil on green beans is my kind of person.

Hump Day

I'm so impressed that I remembered what day of the week it was.

You know what tastes totally disgusting for breakfast? Reheated Mac & Cheese. From this day forward, I will never eat reheated Mac & Cheese for breakfast again. I'll save it for dinner next time.

It kind of feels like I'm back to work already. Job interviews, police checks, this check, other checks, CPR training, and an unemployment counsellor I might not be able to avoid any longer. Lists of jobs I've applied for, remaking a resume 200 times on a weekly basis, trying to write cover letters that sound like they have meaning to them but they really are just copied and pasted in the end from some website. Waking up in the morning, that's a big effort too. Time to start the celebrations. It IS Wednesday already, the week is pretty much over. Although I did say I'd save my liver for FIFA Friday. However, I don't remember who I said that to so it doesn't count. Besides, some of the games start pretty early, I highly doubt I'm going to get rip-roaring drunk at 5:30am. Or will I...hmmmmm

Before I sign off, I'd like to welcome back a few people into my life like my cleat-wearing, cycling idiot neighbors living above me. And the peanut gallery at Remedy - I'm always happy to entertain you. I'd also like to welcome some new additions into my life like the Lady Gaga construction workers next door - I'm always pleased to give you a fashion show of the latest Hello Kitty underwear collection. And I'm going to steal wood from you to finish my bed, just a heads up, as it is repayment for all the nails in my tires. I've got nothing else today. It's pathetic.

Constant...Chaos

There are quite a few constants in life. Like my landlady never making the connection between the exterior light shorting out and the overnight door security system. Or the flow of Neil Young coming through my neighbor's window when he's stoned; That's guaranteed. Oh, and why is there always someone drinking and/or smoking up in a school yard after dark? What is that? Is there some deeply embedded psychological connection there? Sandboxes are just one big ashtray and burial plot. And kids always want to eat the sand, like a bear getting ready for hibernation. No wonder kids get so cranky at night.

However, our own lives are not a constant. You live, you work, you die of course, but everything in between is something like the Yellowhead in a snowstorm. The road never moves, but your car sometimes does. Sometimes at extraordinary high speeds. Unless you drive a Ford Focus like me, then you just sit there and enjoy the heat because that's about the only thing that works on that car. But you have to read the signs. One little turn in the road or test to the eardrum of say, hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, MICHAEL JACKSON, you could find yourself being scraped off the pavement. Unless you catch yourself in time, and then everything seems so much easier after that. But the ringing in your head of those last few lyrics will stay forever, "I'm bad, I'm bad...". The bleeding in your ears may also never stop.

Basically what I'm trying to say is, Michael Jackson is NOT the king of pop. And the little turns in the road are like changes in your life. Changes that make you think better on your feet, although a little chaotic and unnerving in even the most ideal conditions. You just have to drive the car given to you as best as you know how. Sometimes you end up with a Ford Focus. Sometimes you end up with a Porsche (can't stop talking about the Porsche dammit, the most amazing mode of transportation on this planet yet to date...the second degree burns are healing quite nicely, thanks for asking). Alternatively, you could just drive head first into a brick wall to stop the pain of "Young man....Y...M...C...A" but there is not always someone there to scrape you off the pavement. I was lucky my D Day was covered by my mom and my roommate. I'm pure titanium now. And slightly deaf.

I AM capable of playing this game of life now (although if I don't get either of these jobs that interviewed me today, I am seriously considering a brain transplant). And it is a game, a game that inevitably has to be played in order to survive a rather cruel social world - our world in a nutshell. We are definitely not instinctive animals; We do survive on society and if that is ever substantially proven wrong, I will burn my degree and move to the woods and eat squirrels and bugs. So let the game of chess begin...or build me a tree-house.

I do have to point out one last thing. I may have stopped driving this chaotic road for the last month, but my life was put on hold as a result and the temptation to stay in Ontario became enormous (there is no place like home). However, the job calls were coming in from Edmonton, not Toronto. If that is not a neon sign bedazzled by a five-year-old yelling, "hey stupid, over here", then I don't really know what is. It is good to take a pee break during that long stretch of nothingness (Manitoba, Saskatchewan) but you can only really pee (and text) on a pee break. Turning around to go back to where you came from is also completely unreasonable and worse than just stopping because you will be filled with self-doubt for the rest of your life. I'm glad I only sold off my bed before I left Edmonton (mind you, I didn't have much else other than shoes). The best thing you can do is finish the drive, get a so-called life, share the joy, and reinvent your idea of home because at some point, you might have to be the one out there scraping someone else off the pavement. My shovel is ready.

Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead

Ding Dong, the witch is dead. For those who know me or have spoken to me in the past week during the post road trip, you will understand. For everyone else, never mind. For all, bring on the vodka at my place. This party is just getting started.

For everyone out there going through what I was once thought was unemployment bliss, take a break from your life for a bit. Do it soon. Breathe for a minute. Afterwards, even the cruelest of characters will drop off your radar. I've got a couple in my life, but the more people I meet and that have entered my life in the past month, the less I care about the drama and they just seem to disappear to a small blip on the screen. Things are making alot more sense to me, too, now that I've stepped away, well, the things that don't really matter OF COURSE. Who do you think you're listening to???!!! Baby steps. Rule #1, do not date "separated" men. They are never separated. Rule #2, the world does not hate you because of your bad haircut disaster. The men are quickly replaced and the hair does grows back.

Besides, I'm not a person with high expectations despite what my roommate thinks. Not anymore, anyway. I'm ignoring the dust in my apartment (shared quarters, anyway, again, baby steps), the guys next door who think Lady Gaga should be heard from here to Calgary at 8am while drilling into concrete, dates who think a good night out on the town is french fries on me, and hold on, more Lady Gaga. I've got ear plugs, a king-sized bed, and two dresses in my closet that talk to me, "just because I'm 2007, doesn't mean I didn't earn my status at Holt Renfrew". These dresses don't deserve that kind of abuse and they're demanding a little more respect. They miss my polka-dotted bra though, and rebelling somewhat. Well, we're all upset about it, finding it missing when I got home was like losing my best friend. But I'm sure some oil dude at one of the hotels I was staying in last week is enjoying it right now as I write this. And I am the sharing type. However, I do hope whoever did find it wears it under their clothes and not over. I tried wearing it over once and it stretched all out and it was angry with me for weeks. Nobody should have to resort to tissue paper or silicon inserts, that's just wrong; You never know when some party breaks out and you're required to take it off and swing it around. Trust me, it's been an interesting week but I do NOT have pictures in case you ask. I am an upstanding citizen of this society and cannot afford the blackmail.

I'm making it. I truly am. Not the way I thought I was going to make it five months ago, but in a much better way. I'm taking life as it comes, Porsche or old Mustang. Life is definitely worth living, and although I'm thankful for the weight-loss made under extreme duress and hypochondriac-ness (tumours are NOT bad hangovers), I think I might have my old self back again. The old self after the disappearing act in Mexico and before the disappearing act to Taiwan. I should be clear on that. I was way more relaxed coming back from Mexico.

The Roadtrip

Sorry it's been so long. Soul-searching (so-to-speak) requires a little effort.

Despite the purging of much of my worthless possessions, a month-long hiatus in Ontario, and a roadtrip across the country that can only be described as hell on earth (I now unwillingly know all the words to Michael Jackson and the Jackson Five, I won't go into details as not to offend someone), I've come to the conclusion (with absolutely no solid reasoning as of yet, but I'm okay with that) that Edmonton will be my home for a while yet.

Without much effort (but a little focus, it makes all the difference)I've managed a couple of job interviews in the weeks to come. My new direction will not make me rich, but it will make me happy. Don't get me wrong, I will be rich one day by my own doing. But in the meantime, maybe I can help others figure out their life.

With new focus also comes a new social life. I've been living my roommate's life long enough; It's time to make one of my own. I'm still stuck living the dorm lifestyle for now, but Porsche or old Mustang, money doesn't matter unless you make it matter to the people you surround yourself with.

So where's the humour in all of this? Well, none today, but I'm sure I'll think of something tomorrow. I do have a Porsche symbol emblazoned in my flesh in a search for the holy oil cap (note to self - let the engine cool before sticking arm in engine compartment), nothing like a perfect night out on the town ending underneath a car hood. It was like Armani meets Joy from My Name is Earl's trailer park. The only real difference between the two of us was one of us could afford the photo radar speeding tickets. And that person wasn't me. Seeing the city at 100km/hr is quite the experience. And that was before finding the oil cap. I so need a Porsche. And drinks every night at the Fairmont - love the Confederation Lounge. Although waiting for the sun to go down at this time of year will keep you up to almost midnight. Some guys should really bottle their charm and know-how and sell it, particularly to the ones that leave you with the $20 bill at a Sherlock Holmes pub. You lose some, you win some.

Day 83 - Whenever: Pro/Con List - Edmonton It Is

Didn't realize how much stress I was under lately, how many directions I was being pulled in, and how badly I needed to just get away for a while and really think about things without a time limit on it all. I've never been good with scheduling my life, don't know why I was trying to start now. The strain of everything kind of went away shortly after landing/not crashing into Hamilton airport last week, promptly allowing me to argue with my brother and then proceed to drive to my mom's place in complete anger. Typical idiot-brother-vs-wonderfully-amazing-sister interaction. Can't live with family. Can definitely live without them.

I was never trying to run away from Edmonton, I don't know why people just assumed I was or assumed I disliked the place. In fact, I don't remember saying that I hated the place. I do remember talking about missing the connection with my family and friends in Ontario. But that's normal, is it not? I've strangely bonded with Edmonton. I can't explain it. Yes, I am somewhat of a drifter. However, Edmonton is the land of the drifters - if you open your mind a little and don't try to attach yourself to the center of a society that you were never brought up to understand, you will see them. There is a fringe out there that is so unique, so interesting, and it's my place in the world at the moment.

The only thing missing, and it's a major thing - I agree, is a job. Yup, never got the "dream" job call this week. However, that just pisses me off and makes me more determined. I WILL get what I want. I am focused now, and completely over whatever has been holding me back from being me again. It's all going to happen. I promise. And I never break a promise unless it involves cheese.

As for Toronto, not going to happen. Just driving to Toronto the other night made me realize that 1. I can't afford the roadside condo (trust me, by the time you reach Cawthra after driving 2 hours at 10km/hr, you do need the facilities - like a bed, kitchen, tv); and 2. I'd be working for $12/hr, driving an hour in from Brampton to work at a job with kids that already know how to execute you gang-style. It's a lose-lose situation working at a youth shelter there.

So, Edmonton it is. The kids there are at least 10 years behind Toronto, Vancouver, and Montreal in gang activity; you can pick out the knife at least a good minute before it reaches your organs so working in a youth shelter there is far from life threatening. Besides, I could drive to Calgary 300km away in less time than commuting around Toronto. And I could do it drunk, blind, one arm missing, and one leg wrapped around my neck. WITHOUT a car accident. It's a dream come true.

I do miss the Ontario water, the crappy European-I'm-a-complete-self-centered-a**hole driving, the weather patterns over the great lakes (my mom squeals in fear everytime there is lightening and moved right beside one of the biggest fresh water lakes in the world where lightening is guaranteed - often, sometimes she makes even even less sense than me), the huge and diverse population, the Indian bakeries, the Latino dance clubs, the German grocery stores, the Portugeuse cafes, and the feeling that you're living in the centre of the universe. However, I also miss the freedom of Alberta, and that's big for me. I'm tired of hiding behind lampposts everytime a cop drives by. Or a taxi cab. THAT one is a long story I'll have to save for later.

So, a big roadtrip ahead. Catching a ride with R. on May 26, we'll kill each other by the time we get to my apartment in Edmonton, but maybe I'll get a chance to sight-see some of the dumbest sights ever along the way. World's largest goat, maybe? It's going to be an all new start for me out west, clean slate all around, new career path, new guy-path(going to aim for one good one, don't know who, might take a while, but he's going to be hot, I'm sure of it). Things are looking up. I'll write again in about a week or so before I leave. Have a good week!

Day 82 something something: So Long Edmonton

I just realized that I might actually miss Edmonton. I think I'm going to cry tonight before I leave. Well, I cry every night (the world disappoints me, except for David Suzuki), so nothing different there. I'm a Cancer, Cancerians do that. They cry, they weep, they shout, they scream, and then they go skydiving. I'm afraid of heights, though, skydiving is not so easy with an extreme OCD and panic disorder like mine. Neither is bungee jumping. I'm surprised I make it out of my apartment some days.

I guess I feel kind of ridiculous today. I mean, who cares about the guys? Most guys are taught to live in the moment and revolve the earth around themselves from the time they are born, but then they die alone. Very very alone. Very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very alone. Did I mention die? Yes, I think I did. DIE ALONE. Did I say bastard? No, I guess that's not necessary. The die alone part is mean enough. As for me, I might not find a guy that's caring enough or not so self-involved, and I've not got alot of friends, but the friends I do have are available to me 24 hours when I'm in "crisis" mode, Joanne-style. My roommate came and picked me up yesterday during his small window of time to himself and drove me around all day as he worked and monitored my bottle of muscle relaxers (I don't really need them, I just like taking them). The anger and disappointment soon turned to bottle counting on the side of the road. He even stopped and let me pick up a bag. That's my best friend. Even though he doesn't clean the bathroom. Ever. Well, except for the toilet bowl, there is not a chance in hell I'll touch the bowl. And I really think he should consider sit-ups, but just for my entertainment.

My other best friend in Edmonton is also border-free. His advice sucks ass at the best of times, but he's always there for me, telling me how much of a complete and utter idiot I truly am. I appreciate that. And he's not so non-idiotic himself, but I can yell and scream and swear at him all I want and all I get is the stern look and, "Listen, Joanne...". He'll go on about his growing up in Africa stories for hours after that. Then I drink a little too much and go on about my growing up in Hamilton stories. I admit it, I make stuff up. We did NOT have llamas in our backyard but he doesn't have to know that.

It's the jobs that I should be worrying about. And of course, I get all swept away with jobs I want, too. I keep forgetting that everyone has/is/will gone/going/go through the same thing at some point in their lives. You're pretty much soul-less when you're soul searching or you wouldn't be soul searching, would you? Ah, soul searching is just my way of justifying my unemployment. I guess I just need meaning and structure back in my life. I should apologize to everyone out there now for my whining and complaining. But I'm still going to feel sorry for myself for a little while longer because I get to go home and see my mom and I can get hugs for it. So long Edmonton, for now, but I'll be back when things are better for me. Coming back snail mail, expect two to six weeks for delivery.

Day 81-???: Happy Commie Day

May 1st means alot of things to alot of people but to me, it means Commie Day because I think that's cool. Not just because I have the Commie Mints from Chicken Scratch on Whyte still in my purse, but I like the colour red. I look really good in red lace. I mean it, I really do. And it gives me a bit of comfort to my little, tiny ego knowing that there is a day sanctioned for protest that entirely revolves around my red undershirts; Giving the people who live and die for capitalism a voice via my underwear. Blablabla. Okay, that's too much now.

Truthfully, I'm depressed and trying not to think of the fact that I got STOOD UP today (and the fact I've still not got a job). I spiraled a little. I guess I can put up with alot of things that men put me through, but I CANNOT forgive being stood-up. That's the deal breaker for me right there, your dead to me after that. Cancelling last minute, you get two of those before I back over you with a stolen tractor-trailer. Not bothering to call me that the plans are off, well, I really can't say what I'll do. And I'm an idiot for letting him do that to me. So I kind of blame myself, getting attached is not something that should ever happen anyway. I'm 35 and single, I know the rules. It's war out there, you've got to keep your defenses up, I'm telling you. Men are like stormtroopers, you can hit them all with one bullet at the right angle but stay focused, even a stormtrooper can get a shot in before hitting the ground. Something...something...something...dark side. bwahaha. I've got no life.

Just giving my head a shake now. Heading to Ontario for May 3, the only excitement in my life. I find out on May 5 if I get the latest "dream" job, too. But if I don't get it, well, I'm seriously thinking of a new angle here. And an extra long vacation it is, nobody really to think about except for myself so why the hell not? Not really my piece of cake being queen of singledom again (lost my status for about a month there, but I'll get it back, sluttiness is way more fun than suicide) but it will have to do because at this point in my life, I need a job that respects me and a guy who actually cares for me. Yeah, I know, a little much to ask, I totally agree. We all have our dreams.

Day 80, or something...

I want this to be over. I want to be writing about something else now. I want to have a life. I had yet another interview on Wednesday, this job I actually want. One can only hope that nothing stupid came out of my mouth. I don't believe anything did, but it was a group interview and alot of dumb things came out of alot of people's mouths in that room. It's good to know I'm not the only screw-up in job interviews, though. You think you said something stupid, the guy next to you is right on that train to stupidville next to you, probably in first class. Group interviews are weird, but a good learning experience. Hopefully I win out over Mr. 22-year-old pyschologist/mercenary packed full of Jesus who changed schools because he prefers people with English as their first language (University of Alberta was too multi-cultural for him, maybe too many "eastern" Canadian accents confused him), but jackass's like that are probably what they're looking for. I can always hope that he didn't mean most of what he said, but that still doesn't take away the fact he goes around knocking on people's doors and tries to convert them to Christianity. Yeah, a little too much information, don't you think???!!!

Well, off to Ontario on Monday for a visit. I've been missing the writing alot lately and probably won't be writing much in Ontario, either. I just want to be able to tell everyone I got the job, nothing else seems to matter right now. Although traveling with a one-way ticket is always exciting, I hate having to read calendars and clocks, but I really want to be able to say that I'm going to be back in Edmonton in a couple of weeks to start my dream job. Cross your fingers for me. I'll write again tommorrow. Oh, the word on the street is that my nephews have a pretty large-scale scam waiting for me in Ontario. Poor little dudes, they haven't a clue what "unemployed" actually means. Well, it means cheap go-karting, a bag of pennies, and gorge hiking. Hopefully I don't lose my awesome aunt status over lack of Nintendo DSI funds.

Day 79: Why Is George Foreman Selling Cleaning Products Now?

Really, why IS George Foreman selling cleaning products.

Sooooo, my mom is so right, always right. I bought a plane ticket to go visit her next week (seat sales always get me, some girls like their shoes, I like my seat sales), she said that that would guarantee me a job offer in the short, foreseeable future. She was absolutely right. I received two phone interviews this morning, and a second job interview on Wednesday. Hopefully I don't screw it up, but things are looking pretty good. Both jobs are in community services so I'll be happy this time. Not so rich, but that really doesn't matter anymore. Money can only buy happiness in a shopping mall. I just won't go into any shopping malls for a while. Still going to Ontario to visit, though.

Even the volunteer job came through this morning. Looks like I can choose my training start date, either in May or September. Nothing like working a crisis hotline to make me realize how normal my life actually is. I'll go for the September start and probably work the summer at one of the shelters. Going to be an amazing summer here in Edmonton, and I'm so thankful that I can actually say that again. I was getting kind of worried. Kind of. HA. Like melting-into-my-couch-crying-and tossing-my-cookies kind of worried. Edmonton can be a downright s***hole if your unemployed, but I guess I'm only saying that because my mom isn't here. Never underestimate the power of the mom. She made Hamilton almost bareable for me all those years. And that's an impossible thing to do.

We were just talking about our childhoods the other day. I try not to brag, but Hamilton is seemingly the worst city on earth. I say that with love. Honestly. But also because I don't want to be yelled at by my three best friends still living there when I go home to visit. Way back when my parents immigrated to Canada, Ontario was the boom province. Hamilton had the majority of the industry, tradesmen being recruited from all over Europe and the UK to work for what was pretty good money at the time. My dad loved it there (I don't think he ever got to see the three-eyed carp in the lake like I did) because industry had died in the UK. I guess that's why I love Edmonton so much, Ontario industry died and Edmonton opened the door for me. You can walk in anywhere and get a job here. It's getting out that's the problem. 40 hours turns into 80 hours pretty quickly and most people out here just think work is a place to go to get away from your wife/husband. Some Albertans have both. You do learn to get choosey about your jobs eventually, and the guys/girls you date out here. I've had some pret-ty uncomfortable moments in the past year. But nobody died or went to jail, so, all good.

Foreigner in a foreign land. Yup. I think that's the only thing that gets me down. People around here think that if your from out-of-province, you're a foreigner. I don't think Albertans realize that a passport is NOT required to go to Newfoundland. And I say that with love. Most of the time. Anyone from east of Manitoba is a "damn easterner" to some, though, and that kind of pisses me off. I'm not damned. And hell, I think I have it bad, one of my best friends here is of Indian decent, born in Kenya, and Kenyan citizenship. They don't even know what to do with him. So we sing songs. You can't beat up someone singing, at least nobody has tried yet.

So, I am almost finished with this unemployment roller coaster ride. Three months, everyone, three months. Three months of crying, screaming, drinking, and random other acts of weirdness I cannot repeat here. But also three months of an unwaivering will to get my life right this time. To start being an adult and making real decisions, and accept who I am. About freaking time, what, did I just put my brain on a shelf somewhere when I finished high school and decided that I did't need it anymore? Well, knowing me, probably. And then I probably tried to replace it with the brain of a monkey. The five years after high school are kind of fuzzy to me. But that's another story.

Day 76 to 78: Tax Time to Boob Quake, Busy Busy Busy

Yeah. It's been a few days. Didn't want to bore anyone with the details of my tax return experience. By the way, it's free to calculate on www.taxchopper.ca and only $9.95 to efile through them. Got that from a pretty reliable source. Turns out taxes are pretty simple to do, just wish I figured that out before I stared blankly at WTIB and WTF and LMAO forms that only pertain to maybe five people in this country for three days. And mom, don't taunt me, I know my brother can do it and has been doing it for years and so should I be able to. But NOT helping.

Ah, well, the pay-off is good. Sat on Whyte Ave tonight, drank some wine. Unfortunately, I've been reduced to sitting on my friend's balcony drinking their wine and saving the straws and spitballs for the roof later on. Despite how unresponsive certain individuals staggering along Whyte Ave. appear to be, they always can figure out what balcony the spitballs are coming from.

So, tax time over, what do I do now? I could yell and scream and then go cry on my couch again, but those days are wearing thin. Time for a little bit of action, man. I've set my sights on some volunteer work to prepare myself for the horrors of re-entering the working world. Besides, I figure I'll be the prettiest one at the soup kitchen and that will make me feel better about myself - disturbingly so. Applied to Grant MacEwan as a failsafe, don't want to be floundering in September and be like, woulda coulda shoulda. I'll just implode if that happens. I'm also at peace with my decision to go into social work, it's been almost two weeks and I haven't changed my mind. That is earth-shattering news coming from me. I can't decide on a Mac and Cheese in the grocery store - spirals? shells? original? and then I change my mind the minute I get to my car. It eats me up inside. What if I don't want original when I get home? Now I'm stuck with it. Life sucks. So this is good news, I've reached a more stable stage of my unemployment.

My inability to eat for the last two weeks has lost me a reasonable 10lbs. I'm good with that. I was hoping for more, but I can't afford new clothes, anyway. Even if I do get a few extra dollars to spend, I go right to the lingerie shop. Oh, hey, that reminds me, don't forget 4/26 (tommorrow) is Boob Quake!!! Some bloggers did really well in setting this one up (so jealous) and it kind of gives me my faith back in social change. I guess in hindsight that was probably pretty easy, it seems like everyone loves boobs. Social change via boobies. Nice. So, everyone, male and females (I don't discriminate), dress slutty tommorrow, take a picture, and post it as your profile pic on FB. And just hope a disaster doesn't coincidentally occur, or the point will be lost on those few individuals in society we are trying to prove to that boobs are actually not weapons. Hell, I've tried to take over small countries myself with mine, but it never worked.

Ah, don't hate on Islam, just hate on the individuals that misrepresent spirituality in general and ignore the deeper purpose of it. We are all entitled to our cultural upbringing. Some people just forget what century we're in. Maybe next time the BBC will harp on something stupid a catholic priest said. Then we could run around with our pants off with good reason. What I would do to be a fly on the wall in the Vatican...

Day 75: Social Prison

I don't subscribe to social norms. I believe they only exist because we allow them to exist. I don't think I even have the ability to adhere to them. If I don't have any clean socks, I don't wear socks. If I don't have any clean underwear, I don't wear them either. There is nothing more liberating than not wearing any underwear, by the way. I mean, I recommend wearing them, it's sanitary, but if you don't have any clean ones left, it's alot less sanitary to wear dirty ones. When you're having a bad day at work and your boss is reaming you out, it's almost soothing - Yes, I understand your concerned about Mr. F's dog, and yes, I should have told the pilots to turn the heat on in the luggage compartment, but I didn't, and I'm not wearing any underwear. Smile stupidly now.

When I know what I want, I don't faulter. Knowing what you want and being honest about it, it's as liberating as walking around commando. But I have no concept of time. I become overly focused. I've already established the fact that I have no concept of what is "normal" or what I should be saying or doing at any particular time. Strange things come out of my mouth, words and paper and foam, whatever.

Why do I do it? Well, I believe I could be insane. There's no other reasoning except that maybe I was actually brought up by wild animals and my parents just felt sorry for me and told me they misplaced me for a few years. I'd understand, they don't have to lie to me. That would explain sooo much...

Day 74: Just Say No

Busy week, I guess three months of jobhunting is starting to pay off. However, many of the jobs that I applied for were by mistake or by desperation. So I've been practising my "no's" this morning, "No, I am not able to fly to Hong Kong tomorrow for a nanny position." (that's just a prostitution ring waiting to be discovered, no?!) "No, I am not a medical doctor and I cannot do heart surgery but I did go to the hospital once. To visit." "Unfortunately, I do not have military experience and despite what my resume says, I cannot shoot a gun.".

I guess I'm a little intense. Or alot intense. It's just when there's something that needs to get done, I have to do it. If there's something I want, I do anything I can to get it. I'm like that wind-up toy wound up too tight. I eventually wear down, but it takes a while. A wound-up too tight jack russell terrier wind-up toy. Annoying for many, I'm sure. However, I said yesterday that I won't apologize for the way I am anymore. And if you've got something I want, well, good luck with that, there will be alot of running involved, and possibly small animals being tread on.

The only confusing times for me and many around me is when I don't know what I want. That's what it's been like for the last few months. Someone as intense as me without direction is like letting loose a bull in a china shop. Things get shattered. But then something always snaps in my head, sometimes due to an abundance of alcohol and whatever else that can destroy any life-sustaining organ in my body. I put the bleach bottle away last week (permanently this time, I'm getting too old and tired for this self-loathing, downward spiral), and I'm running this new direction like a high speed train. I'm just deathly afraid the tracks aren't finished where I'm heading. I don't usually plan things out so well, and, well, crashing and burning seem to have been my trademarks in the past. I am looking forward to the change, however, so I'm going to at least enjoy the trip even if it ends through a wall of fire.

Besides, the anxiety of it all is good for the weight loss. I highly recommend life-changing events; they destroy your will to eat. On top of that, I'm feeling kind of bulimic these days, can barely put a toothbrush in my mouth without trying to hold down my cookies. It's about freaking time, man, all those years working in the office, thought I would never see my cute butt again. And really, life is all about the perfect butt. Soon, soon I am so wearing a bikini down Whyte Ave...

Day 73: I Am Me

What's worse than going to a job interview is having to say no to the job in the end. I think I've already mentioned this before. This morning I had to say no to one job and get interviewed for another. I throw up alot when I'm stressed out, too, and today is going to be a stressful day. Oh well. Saves on groceries in the end. It's hard to tell if last weekend was alcohol poisoning (chocolate stout, bleh, really) or stress or both because my week pretty much started out the same, throwing up. I guess I knew this was coming, the interviews and all the decisions. It's just, I feel like I'm going to have a heart attack some days. I want to live!!! After all this is done and over with, I'm never going to move or change jobs or do anything different again.

I'm done, I tell you, done with stress. Although working at a job that isn't right would be more stressful, because you know in the end you have to eventually leave that job. I think my last job was alot like that, I knew I could never please the big guys (that group of people who think money can buy anything, but it really can't, and if you think it can, then your body will eventually be fished out of the bottom of the ocean along with two unfortunate pilots or scraped off the side of a tree on a ski hill). I only stayed for the schedule and the free flights. That eventually disintegrated, too.

No, your job has to be somewhat fun to go to everyday. If I wanted to be the perfect robot, I wouldn't have quit the army reserves after only four months (I got to keep the black face polish and boxers, that was fun until the polish expired and my skin broke out in giant goiters). Some people can do it, I just can't. I need the freedom to check my laces at the most inopportune time. I need the freedom to run backwards or stop and smell the flowers or talk to rabbits. I'm tired of apologizing to people for my retardedness. I say "I'm sorry" within the first 60 seconds of every conversation because I assume I'm doing something wrong. But I am me. I'll always be me. I don't want to spend the rest of my life trying to change that, either.

I am open-minded, however. When things do work, compromise is not so hard. I'll eat the chunky peanut butter this week. But next week, it's got to be the creamy.

Day 72: Rocks in My Head

Seriously. I shook my head this morning, and it rattled. It kind of hurt. I was so not out on the town last night, either. Staying true to my word this week, focusing and settling down a little. It feels kind of warm and fuzzy. Quite the change from my usual ADD OCD jack russell terrier self. I still get my moments randomly throughout the day, however. I mean, I have gravel in my hair. I parked my car, and for some reason (must have been a good reason at the time) I dropped to the ground. I can't remember anything after that. But hey, it happens.

Why go out on the town, anyway, when the best bar in town is on my front step. Beer is a dollar and I can watch the drug deals in the park, see the drunk people walking to their cars and trying to drive away, and talk to bunnies while they dig for roots that aren't there (Note to self - buy carrots, because it's never going to rain again in Edmonton). And my neighbors are the best entertainment of all. You learn ALOT about your neighbors at midnight. Outside. In the dark. And I can watch cable TV through their windows. My roommate and I don't need sound either, because it's more fun making up your own dialogue. An added bonus to that is when you actually do finally watch the TV program with audio later on, it's like watching an entire new episode. However, it is embarrassing sometimes when you tell the ending (like taking candy away from babies, it is my evil desire to tell you the ending every movie that I watched before you) and it's entirely inaccurate. Like in the Titanic, I thought he was just sleeping.

7PM and it's still broad daylight. I forget sometimes why I love Edmonton. Not-winter is one of the things I love. Now that I've decided to stay, all the good things about the city are coming back to me. Decisions are much easier, too, there are alot of opportunities here if I just focus. Not once this week did I check the job postings in Amsterdam. Or Nunavut. Or the Antarctic. Although one day I'm going to see a penguin outside of West Edmonton Mall. And hopefully not because some drunk guy let them all run free in the parking lot. But it is amazing what you can do when you know what you want. I know what I want now, and it almost feels like this roller coaster unemployment trip is about to end. And honestly, I've learned alot, but I deserve a bit of happiness and stability now. I'm at the point in my life, to everyone's great surprise, that I'm really really really ready for that. Going down the road I've always gone down is getting boring. Time for a new road, new scenery, which is this road I'm on, and this scenery. I'm excited. I'm not worried about money anymore (why bother? Life is too short). I know that I'll eventually have the funds and ability to do whatever I want to do later on because I'm kind of good at pulling $$$ out of my arse. I just need the right people and the RIGHT job at this point in my life to get me to that next step.

So, maybe soon I'll have to come up with another blog for you guys. Like how to drive your family and friends crazy in ten days. I'm good at that. Or how to rip the tap out of the counter when the drip turns into a running tap and the landlord has done absolutely F-all about it. That's a best seller right there. Or why gay cyclist cleat boys in the upstairs apartment won't take their cleats off while walking around their apartment. And I hope they're wearing more than their cleats when they're walking around up there, too...

Day 71: No Pants, No Socks, No Oatmeal - A Fine Summer It Is

While making leftover oatmeal this morning, I put a bowl of it in the microwave for 30 minutes instead of 3. Easy mistake, right? Yeah, but most people notice the mistake in the first 10 minutes. Not me. I officially have no safe way of feeding myself anymore. I don't know what I'm going to do; Oatmeal was MY THING. I knew how to do oatmeal. Now I have nothing.

Up and at 'em early this morning for my last editing class. I'm telling you, people can be so majorly retarded. Such an amazing class last week. Until the end, "should I be giving you guys homework?". Logical people would have joined in a collective, "F*** no!". But not my class. And I forget days of the week. So now I'm up way too early, exploding oatmeal in the microwave, and editing something when I am barely awake enough to remember my name. I don't think I'll be a good editor. Next...

Well, classes finished and Whyte Avenue has officially gone bent and batsh** crazy. Same story every year. So I think I'm going to go join the crowd and whoop it up. Ah, who am I kidding, I'm going to watch Goldmember over and over until I fall asleep. I thought I was the retard showing up in flip flops to classes today (I refuse to wear socks now until September). However, it looks like the fine people of Whyte Avenue have all one-upped me; Not alot of people wearing pants out there as I was driving by on the way home. And plaid shorts DO NOT count; These guys were wearing them as boxers just a month ago. It makes me so proud of Edmonton. And I sincerely, deeply, truly mean that.

Day 70: In Hiding

It really sucks when you actually ace a second job interview and then you decide you don't want the job anymore. I've stuffed my cell phone into the abyss of the couch so I'm not tempted to answer it until Monday. I've decided to take a little break, you know, strip down to my underwear on this fine Friday, and just make it a long weekend. I deserve it. I think. And then start all over again on Monday. More interviews. My biggest problem, more so than rejection, is saying no to someone though. I need a script for that. So I'll be doing some writing in my underwear this weekend.

What an amazing start to a weekend, too. Ha. You all must think I'm bipolar. No, I'm just unemployed. You lose yourself sometimes. It's like bungee jumping from the side of a bridge without measuring your cord or weighing yourself first. There are ups. And then there are downs. On the up side, I never have to say to someone that I'm busy. But there is a downside to that, too. I've lost that little bit of mystery that I had before. I don't have meetings or, hell, work to go to. I don't have a company telephone strapped to my belt (I would actually keep it in my pocket; One wrong move and I was calling myself with my ass, or even worse, one of the owners. Weekends never ended well for me when I was on-call). Another great thing is that I have no need for routine. But that ends in disaster after a while, too, because male roommates never have a routine themselves. Dishes can pile up. Crazy things start living underneath the toilet seat. Dust becomes a part of life. The 5 bottles of laundry detergent that you bought 3 months ago doesn't last nearly as long as you thought it would. And things just start to smell really bad.

A major downside to all of this, however, is the money. The stability. The not-knowing what to do with your life. Groceries don't get bought. Brakes don't get fixed. And you start to doubt decisions that you made an entire year ago. Doubt is not good. The decision was made with a solid reason and goal in mind, and that doubt has wasted a little bit of my time in the past few months. I did take a little fall, but there is a light at the end of that tunnel. Possibly just a hobo with a fire cracker, but the light is there. I thought I was wasting all this time "doing nothing" but "doing nothing" has helped me make some pretty good decisions. Decisions that I am happy with, despite how painful they were to make. And finding out who I really am, which has been the hardest thing to do. You kind of have to turn back the clock a little sometimes and remember who you were before all of this started. Its people that count, not some corporation that separates us with money.

Lastly, sometimes when you move away, you think your family misses you as well. But in reality, they really don't care where you are or what you're doing as long as you're happy. I haven't seen them since January, but the only time I really got to see them last year was for 4 days here and there coming off an 8 hour cargo flight, worrying if I was going to get bumped off my flight for an extra 150lbs worth of freight (I'm big-boned) or if the plane will even fly. Or worse, worrying whether the plane stops flying altogether at the perfectly wrong moment. Flying with the boxes was alot of stress, let me tell you. People really don't miss boxes when they go down. And I really really hated that movie Castaway so don't even start. So cheers, here's to a pogie long weekend...another one...that ends when I want it to...

Day 69: The Second Interview

Everyone is probably wondering how the second job interview went after my Facebook rant. Well, lets just say that although I don't particularly know what I want, I do know what I don't want. And I don't want this job. The jackass unemployment counsellor was unfortunately right. Driving around the city delivering pods will not make me happy and what the hell was I thinking.

No worries, I've got another job interview next week and a couple of walk-ins to do. I'm actually taking an entirely different route. I can't count the seconds at a job I don't like, even for a few months for the money. This time I have on unemployment is so precious, and it's the only time in my life that I'll ever get a chance to figure out what I want to do. With everyone's unlimited help lately, I think I've finally decided what I need to do. And social work it is. There is no better/more government funded place than Alberta to do something like this. Even if I have to volunteer for a few months to get a job that will make me happy, then I'm more than willing to do that. And helping people really does makes me happy. I wouldn't have realized this if it weren't for a couple of really good solid people around me. Opening up this week was also helpful, I highly suggest this to everyone. Stop playing the games, life is too short; If you don't take a swing, you'll never hit the ball. Unless you're a terrible baseball player like me, then you may never hit the ball at all either way. But things are definitely looking good for me this time.

So, what a boring freaking blog today, hey???!!! Yeah, well, it's more of an update than anything else. I was so sick and lost this past week, it scared me, and I think I scared alot of people around me (one big hangover + PMS + no job + he likes me/he likes me not = no drinking. A good alcoholic never drinks when they're sad. And I have NEVER stopped drinking before. That even scared me). I really didn't think I'd make it to today. But I did. I'm relieved, and focused, and know what I have to do to make myself happy. And I know that some of you aren't just reading this for a laugh, some of you are unemployed and going through the exact same painful events. I think we can all agree that unemployment is like a roller coaster with 3 wheels; flying off the track head first painfully into everything oncoming. But some of those head-ons have surprisingly soft landings. It's all random, really.

So, I have nothing funny to say today but I'll come up with something good for tomorrow. And I'm not moving back to Ontario. I am going to visit like crazy, and when I get a job and a life here in Edmonton (3 months is the deadline), I'm going to have a kick-ass home where everyone can come and stay and visit. I'll even have new brakes on the car this summer so driving through Jasper and Banff won't be as scary as it was last year. Sorry about that...mom...

Day 68: Open Heart Surgery

About 3am this morning, I figured out the trigger for my most recent break-down besides the excessive alcohol consumption and hookah night. Let me tell you, talking about feelings with someone while not drinking copious amounts of alcohol feels exactly like open-heart surgery without the anaesthetic. I'm sure of it. But sometimes the anaesthetic is the killer, and you just have to go in there raw. I did just that. But not at 3am this morning. I spent 8 hours crying about it first. Then I just let it all out. Felt kind of zen being honest about things, even though it seemed I was the only one that said anything. Now I have to find a pace somewhere in between 0 and 1 mile an hour or leave altogether. I think I'm going to try the option between 0 and 1 mile an hour. Doesn't make me happy to be left in static mode, but it definitely won't make me happy to walk away from something/someone I feel so strongly about. Now I have to see it to the bitter end. Like Edmonton. I have no choice. My mind is black and white with no gray area. I think I'm going to die here, but probably much sooner than I expected, because my heart is still open on the operating table and nothing good ever comes out of that. Unless infections are good.

So, back to the Edmonton jobhunting drawing board. What a stupid soap opera I have turned my life into, as well. I really think it's all a government conspiracy. The Russians are probably taking over right now. Or the Chinese (Re: Suncor stocks). But I won't know, because I can just sit beside my phone and computer, waiting for some good news to come out of the choices I've made. Time for a little vacation...plane ticket, anyone?

Day 67: Unemployment Poisoning

Yes. I think I've finally done it. I've poisoned myself with the unemployment hooch. Which is actual hooch. It appears that certain organs of mine (not naming names - LIVER...KIDNEYS) are no longer functioning at peak efficiency. Ah, well, should have known that would have eventually happened. But when those organs aren't working so well, the brain starts to hurt pretty bad, too. I mean, I'm starting to think the Russians are poisoning my bottled water (due to my latest conspiracy theory on Facebook). I run from my car for no reason (I've dumpster dived with the best of them, I'm protected in my alley and there's really nothing to run from...except from the Russians, of course...). I've been crying on and off for days. That is actually now freaking out the corner store owner because I like the incense section when I cry - Smoking Buddha's calm me.

Never thought I'd say this, but it looks like I've given up. Despair.com always seems to have something accurate to say about my life, "At some point, hanging in there just makes you look like a bigger loser". Never got the second interview for that job I wanted. Can't eat (well, not Mac and Cheese anymore anyway, and that's pretty much all that I know how to cook and can afford). Can't sleep. I'm running out of non-hobo-pirate clothes. Now I can't drink. Please don't tell me to smoke weed either, because I couldn't even handle the Hookah on Sunday night (which is molasses, by the way, I can't even handle smoking molasses...). On top of it, and I try to not talk about guys on this blog unless they've driven me to drink, but I really like this guy (yes, one guy this time) and he barely has time to give me the time of day. Which by the way, I often need to know what time of day it is. Tick...tick...tick...ahhhhhhhhhh...I really can't have clocks or watches anywhere near me and that dripping tap in my kitchen is going to get its ass whooped. It is so driving me bonkers right now. You know, I've dated enough guys, but I'm starting to realize the problem might not be them anymore.

Even my memory is going. Go ahead, ask me what day it is, I won't know. I used to memorize airline flight routes and schedules, recite the underground stops for Tokyo from heart, know every micro-brew and winery in Ontario, be able to tell you the weather for the next two years almanac-style in Kurdistan, and be able to name every part of a car just for fun. I can't do any of that anymore. I can't even tell you what day of the week today is. My brain has literally disintegrated to a pile of dust. I'm about as useful as that 12-year-old working the McDonald's.

So, what do I do now? Work for McDonald's? I mean, I'm clean out of ideas. I'll keep applying for jobs. Change my resume. Go to those stupid unemployment seminars hoping I'll get one nano-second of useful information. I even have a couple of volunteer jobs I want to apply for to keep my degree active without getting too close to the knife throwers. There's a free writing gig that is really really cool but I'm not telling what it is until I get it. And I'll continue NOT being a lesbian. But what am I doing, really? Am I crying tears of happiness into smoking Buddha's lap at the convenience store? Doesn't seem that way, does it? WHY am I here? What am I doing? And what else do I really want out of life besides a guy in a uniform?

Day 66: Still Waiting...

Still waiting to hear from the driving job. Me, and only me, would think a company would call back on a Saturday. I am slightly impatient; waiting has never been my strong suit. I have a 48-hour threshold for almost everything - the 48-hour rule - and then I'm done. I don't remember names or places or conversations after that. And that has led to some embarrassing moments, Let me tell you. Like that one time...lets just say that names are really "important" to some people.

One name I won't forget now is Gaye Delorme. I got to meet him on Friday. I, of course, did not know who he was and just assumed he was an unemployed schmo like myself, sitting around day-drinking. I told him stories. Lots of stories. There's a good chance that I might be a character in the next Cheech and Chong. So, I'm going to say this now before the next show or movie - it's lies, all lies...

It's funny when you start telling stories about your life and realize that, well, it has been an interesting existence to-date. I only sometimes wish I could have done things "normally", but then there would never be any stories to tell. I'd bore the crap out of myself if I was "normal". I guess I just wish that I could step into the shoes of the cookie cutter for a day and talk about the perfect hemi or perfect house I just bought with my perfect husband. You get to hear the cookie cutter stories in the changeroom at the gym in the mornings because they don't actually have jobs to go to, either. Is this what guys really want?

Ah, who am I kidding, I'd never be able to be perfect. That perfect house would be pretty lonely when your perfect husband is off bonking a waitress. And I'd just take that perfect hemi and collect bottles with it. I'd be the envy of all my hobo friends, though. Some things aren't worth giving up, even for a day.

Day 65: David Suzuki Is Not Who He Says He Is

Employment counsellor my ass. It's like they are counselling you to stay unemployed. Makes sense, if there weren't any unemployed people, then they wouldn't have jobs, would they, opposed to shouldn't have jobs. My "employment" counsellor today looked like David Suzuki, but that's about where the similarities ended. Mean little bastard. I thought he was on cocaine at first, so I was a little afraid. It's never a fun day dealing with cokeheads. Hey, imagine David Suzuki on speed. Wouldn't that freak you out a little bit more about the environment? I should write him a letter and tell him.

Okay, I'll agree that my resume is long winded. Fixed. Done. No biggie. Right? Like resume writing is an innate skill, like I should have known this since I was three? I'm always open to resume critiquing, so screw you Mr. Coke-uki, I'm not in dire circumstances yet. Not until I'm PMSing again next month. Second, I was told to come up with an idea of what I wanted to do before coming into the UI office again for employment counselling. Done. I followed every employment lead I could think of last week and managed to score a second interview for a driving job that paid $6g/yr more than what I was making as an "all-important" flight dispatcher. Mr. Coke-uki kept asking me why driving, and what made me think I could do a job like that? Omigod, like driving equipment around and fixing it for 3+ years doesn't make me qualified? What do I have to do to get some respect around here, strap a penis on? Can you even read, Mr. Coke-uki? Because it's all on my resume...oh, that's right, you like your sentences with three words or less. I'll get right on that. Don't want to keep you from your precious 3-hour lunch break, I know your busy trying to figure out what to put on your pizza.

Lastly, apparently I am "wasting" my degree, and that I am better qualified than most of the employment counsellors he works with. F***ing great, get me a job then and stop telling me I'm an underachiever when I'm just trying to get a little more than $300/wk to live on, even if it's just for a year. "Oh no, we've all done our time," making $12/hr, and that I should get in now before it's too late, and start work at the federal EI office or something. Been there, done that. And let me tell you, there is nothing in this world that will make me work a federal EI call center in North York, get laid off every year, get my hours cut, and grow my ass the size of a house, dodge bullets in North York on my way home or in my living room, and talk to angry, angry people all day long. Nor am I going to work in a halfway house or a youth home for $12/hr. Because it's not just about the money. When your a pyscho-male (yes, I'm sure that's the politically correct, scientific term for them), all women start to remind you of the mother that you hate. That just has ice-pick to the neck, acid in the face, or gunshot to the spine written all over it. No thank-you. If I'm going to risk my life like that, I'm going to Afghanistan, work the Tim Horton's for $80g a year, and get free coffee while I burn alive.

Rant Rant Rant. Anyway, I'm just going to do my own thing. Mr. Cok-uki got one thing right, I'm a better employment counsellor than that entire office put together, so I think I can counsel myself. I want to work. I want to make money. I want to save money so one day, I can really do what I want to do, and that's not living to work like most poor schmucks in this world. I'm working to live. And for shoes. Maybe a motorcycle. Who knows. Anything can happen.

Day 64: The Waiting Room

I've come to the conclusion that we all have to do some time in a hypothetical waiting room. For some people, I think that time spent could be their entire life. I'm always afraid of this happening to me, makes me panic and sweat, waiting around for nothing. I suppose it doesn't help that I'm extremely impatient and I often think that I can predict the future, "We are going to be together forever, and beeeeeeeeeeee sooooooooo happpppppppyyyyyyy." (shortly thereafter, the dude returns to Turkey to find his "true love", then comes back to Canada, tries to pick me up in a nightclub as his wife is at home with their 5 children, and then shortly afterwards dies in a taxi explosion. Just saying...this has happened on occasion...)

I've also realized that my predictions based on the opposite of my predictions are also wrong, like I think everything is going to work out, and because I think everything is going to work out, I think I know it's not going to work out. Then I stop caring and just go through the motions like it's not going to work out, and I really end up sabotaging my happiness in the end. I do this with guys, I do this with jobs, I do this with Twinkies and Ding Dongs. I try and predict. All the time. And not kidding you, Twinkies and Ding Dongs don't stick around and last forever, you've got to take a bite sometime or eventually they'll grow this blue mould and it's just too late then, that stuff will make you poo hourly for an entire week.

I nearly did that today, putting off and putting off going in to this company to see the manager about a job. I'm like, this job is going to be boring, it's not going to pay me enough, and I'll quit in a month and be worse off then when I started. When you're on unemployment, you get a little gun-shy because you do have some sort of income trickling through (and I mean TRICKLING). Anyway, I rolled out of bed, procrastinating, didn't put socks or underwear on as I hadn't done laundry in 2 weeks (what's the point?), put on a pair of pants that I really should have worn with a belt (the hobo wear is getting a little loose), and gunned up the highway as fast as my 8-year-old fuel filter would allow me to (40km/hr in an 80km/hr zone, maybe I don't need to change it after all). I got to the door, and still would have turned around and bolted if it weren't for the dude walking in behind me. Which happened to be the manager. We ended up talking for an hour and a half, I have a second interview, the wage is $6g/month higher than my last job that nearly caused me a brain hemorrhage, + bonuses, and they are going to help me get my class 1 driver's license. I nearly kissed the guy. Actually, maybe I did...who remembers these things, anyway?!

So, you're probably piecing together what's going on. And you've definitely come to the right conclusion. Yes sir/ma'am. I am going to be an Albertan truck driver. I'm practicing the lingo now. But don't judge me. I just need a no-brainer job for a while, outdoors, breeze blowing through my hair and cryogenically freezing my eyelids shut, the chance to fill my pockets with cash for once instead of Laffy Taffy, and being able to go home at the end of the day knowing I don't have to figure out how to answer a Blackberry (what freakshow designed that stupid phone?). Because ultimately, my career is me. I just need some decent waiting room real estate for a bit. And a motorcycle. Everyone needs a motorcycle.

Day 63: Therapy

My recent spin-out is definitely PMS. I feel my ovaries being dragged by a pitch fork through my fallopian tubes right now. Soon my entire innards will be wrenched out through my uterus. Then I'll feel better. Nothing like a good bloodletting to feel like new again. I guess it's like the morning after drinking from a broken beer bottle for you boys out there. You know what I mean. Glad I didn't get angry at anyone this time and leave fiery bags of poo on doorsteps. By the way, nobody suspects the carry-on. Or the matching luggage with pretty floral designs and florescent pink baggage tags. Just make sure someone else's address is on the tags. You'll only make that mistake once.

The great thing about venting to family and friends about your pathetic life when you're PMSing is not that they make you feel any better about your perceived dire circumstances, it's that they can always top your story with something a little more sad or gruesome. My Easter weekend was actually spent at my friend J's place, watching him cook (boring), because that's all he does, and that's why I typically avoid his place. Not that I don't like his cooking, he's a brilliant cook; But after 2 hours of prep time to smell a little less homeless for the evening, it's disappointing to ultimately end up smelling like a meatball. Which, by the way, lasts the entire evening and into the morning. The smell, not the meatball. Sunday night was crazy pasta (I didn't recognize it, it wasn't Mac & Cheese, it's therefore crazy). Monday night was thankfully cookies after convincing him that I wasn't hungry for anything without sugar or chocolate. I couldn't see pasta or meatballs tasting good with either one of those ingredients. However, I could be wrong.

Anyway, therapeutic it was. I'm fired. Still fired. Jobless. Rootless. Directionless. Thoughtless. And obviously ignorant to the fact that the world does not revolve around me (ha, what a revelation). It is now apparent to me that I'm not the only person with difficulties. I get angry and call someone's mother ugly and get fired, I get unemployment checks (eventually, 3 months later, when the credit card companies have cut me off). J gets angry and tells someone constructively how to remove their head from their ass (please and thank-you are almost always added to the beginning and end of the instructions, it's smooth, almost as good as a marriage proposal), he gets fired, he gets deported. My father died 3 years ago. His father died a year ago. My mom lives a lifetime away in Ontario. His mother lives 2 lifetimes away in Kenya. And so on. I won't elaborate on the gruesome stories as I do remember crying when he mentioned someone's eye popping out. No details, sorry, too painful to talk about...

Anyways, just when you think your life is bleak, stop and think, there's always someone with a bleaker story. I don't want to say pathetic. J is far from that, he's a machine. Well oiled, at that. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I'm convinced he'll be a big shot someday, and never compromising what makes him, well, him.

Me, I am a weak human being, I admit it. Emotionally unstable. But very, very entertaining. I lick things, alot. I think I mentioned that before. I like to dance to Madonna. I say whatever comes into my head and apologize later for it. Sometimes. I think in abstract, although I don't know how to paint or draw or smoke opium. That's why I write. That's why you don't always understand what I write. Just crawl into a child's mind sometime (metaphorically speaking again, OF COURSE), one with A.D.D. and O.C.D., and a bedwetting problem, and that's me. I'm rambling now...

So, I guess it's time to stop crying in my beer. I've got my limbs, my life, opportunities I just don't know about yet, and hair. Some people don't have hair. I do. I also have good shoes. They don't always go so well with my hobo wardrobe, but one day, one day I'll have pants again...

Day 62: What a Drag

I'm not sure if it's PMS or if I'm just plain psychotic, but this unemployment status is really dragging me down. I feel like just grabbing someone in a uniform and stealing their life. And to be honest with you, I wouldn't want to give them my life in return. Holy depression!!! I want drugs for this. My concoction of alcohol and other various products is not working.

I've just applied for every job from Iqaluit to the east coast today. With my luck I'll get the job in Iqaluit. I guess I just need to work, that's a strange need, I always thought retirement would have been my dream. There is something about being around people that we need, isn't there? I was devastated Sunday/Monday,nobody seemed to have time for me, soft plans and last minute cancellations seemed to be the only thing I had to hang on to. It seemed kind of sacrilegious partying when everyone else is out visiting family, going to church, and working overtime. But, what else can I do? Is going home to Ontario the best thing to do? What am I holding onto out here? I kind of want to steal someone's family too, I really do need 2 of them. I want to have an Alberta family and an Ontario family. I think the best way is to just walk into someone's house, sit down at the dinner table, and start talking about my day. It worked well enough when I lived in Taiwan. I always got fed there, and always had first dibs on the fishheads and chicken claws.

Lets see what this week brings. I had a list to stay on track, and then I lost the list. In fact, I don't think I've ever made a list and not lost it almost instantly. I hate grocery stores because of it. People hate me in grocery stores because of it. I think I'm meant to just fall through life with no idea what to do or what is happening. It's confusing sometimes, and a little scary at the moment. I don't even remember if I have toilet paper. That's a 2am disaster just waiting to happen. Hopefully I have better stories tomorrow.

Day 61: I Want to be Something Special, Too

I don't even know what to write anymore. Nothing like a holiday weekend without the family. Kind of brings you down to zero. Although apparently my brother was steaming drunk by noon on Easter Sunday and passed out before dinner was even served. The only thing I really missed was some drunken belligerence and my sister-in-law yelling. I get to see that everytime I go back to Ontario to visit, so basically Easter Sunday was like any other day for them.

Me, well I threw up some chocolate (I thought I could eat it breakfast, lunch, and dinner but I don't have what it takes anymore), felt sorry for myself, got a little tipsy at my friend's house and fought with my roommate, and then ate a pretty decent pasta dinner (that means it wasn't made by me, thanks J). I somehow made it home around midnight. I also vaguely remember stepping on some very tiny bunnies trying to get to my bed (thanks D).

Continuuing on with the jobhunting this week. Even going to (bleh) try NavCanada and write those tests again for air traffic control. This time I'll do it sober. I just wish I could do something worthwhile. Feeling kind of worthless lately. I want to be something special, too!!! (no comments, please). I feel like I'm swimming in the middle of the ocean right now. Like one of my friends told me, North America is a big empty shell. Big "opportunities", but nothing inside. Even when you do end up getting your dream job, you discover that A. it either doesn't pay the rent as much as you would have wanted it to, or B. it really wasn't what you thought it was. Like NavCanada, a giant Foxtrot Uniforming Charlie Kilo India November Golf fish bowl.

I suppose it all comes down to the people. A job is just a job unless you've managed to fit into that club or surround yourself with friends and family. I've yet to do that anywhere. I've unfortunately always marched to the beat of my own drum, so I've all to often left my family and rarely made many friends wherever I've gone. I don't like getting attached either, it makes decisions such as leaving difficult. But it's inevitable that you'll become attached to something after a year. However, is that the final decision here? Should I be going back to Ontario to my family? Or take what little I have here and make a go at it? Fitting in is the hardest thing for me to do and fitting in to Alberta has been even harder. Most people just stare at me like a science project gone wrong. Which is a normal reaction, I understand, I'm used to that, but love me or hate me, the train wreck does eventually end.

Well, this week is a new week, see what it brings. I can honestly say I've got meetings and classes this week. A full schedule, really.

Day 60: Blue Skies

Yes. In the unemployment world, 24 hours can be 72 hours, too. Kind of missed the past couple of days writing. It was the blue skies this time. When winter turns to summer in Edmonton, nothing else seems to matter except for those blue skies. And whose bottles you take in the back alley. The hobos get pretty pissed off if they see you scoop their payload. I'll remember that for the next time.

I can honestly say that last week was an entire disaster. No jobs, no prospects, no nothing. I've reduced myself to striving for a class 3 driver's license in the hopes of making enough money to pay for rent. I shouldn't sound so snobby about it, it really is a decent job. You're outdoors and on your own most of the time, no office politics to deal with for 12 hours. Just a few rednecks with some sexist comments, nothing that they won't take back 30 seconds after saying it when I'm finished with them (I aim for the throat). The rednecks are the easy ones to deal with, easy to distract, easy to please; basic guys with no secret agenda.

The office staff with pictures of their children on their desk are not so easy to deal with. Somehow, you have to make them feel like their "number one", even if they are total idiots. That's kind of hard for me, I usually say whatever comes into my head, "Wow, that's an ugly baby picture. But I guess all babies are ugly." or "You should really get that goiter removed from your face and put on some makeup, not everyone can pull the au natural look off." or "Really dude? You think that there is actually a female out there that will come within a 10 foot radius of you unless they had to, like me?" or "1980 called, they want their sweater back.", "I vaguely remember GPS being installed inside that cockpit yet you still can't find your head from your ass. Amazing.", "I'm not hungover, I'm drunk.", "I drink because your voice pierces my brain and your face looks like a fishhead."

I've still been applying to jobs equally to Vancouver, Toronto, and Edmonton with a few thrown in there for Calgary. But it looks like I'm here to stay in Edmonton. The blue skies get me every time I think about leaving. And to be honest with you, I'd rather be driving a truck for $20/hour in Alberta than making a "career move" for $15/hour in the big cities. "Career" just means someone has power over you, anyway. Time to do things for myself, my new career is just being me.

Day 59: The Beheading

Poor dude came back to his home in Lebanon to find out he was going to jail for Witchcraft. First of all, Witchcraft is bad? Someone should have let me know, because I was considering a trip to Beirut to see my pregnant friend/get a new stamp on the old passport (got to use it up before it expires next year, I thought that was a rule) and I don't think you can refund plane tickets because your worried about losing your head (I have some pretty firm opinions on freedom of thought and religion which might lead someone still living in the dark ages to believe that I am something of an anti-christ or an anti-mohammed. Which I'm not, I'm sure both JC and Mo were pretty cool dudes, maybe they even had dreads, who knows. I wouldn't have minded meeting them back in the day, I wouldn't have missed that concert, if that's your concern.). Valid concern the losing-your-head thing, but you know how the airlines are about refunds.

Yes, the dude is going to be beheaded for supposedly practising Witchcraft (maybe he just didn't feel like putting pants on when he got the munchies in the middle of the night going down to the kitchen. People really should mind their peeping, naked people always look strange in the middle of the night, like on Whyte Ave. Great example, I used to think my old cat looked like a monkey, sneaking around my room at night). By the way, isn't beheading a little old school? When Christianity adopted mason-like rituals into their services way back when, I guess some dudes lost their heads then, too? Only fair. Turn the clocks back to the days of Stonehenge, omigod, the heads MUST have been rolling then, right? Well, no doubt things were a little more tribal back in the day and the heads rolled for little more than a tree and a rock, but man, modern day Lebanon? I guess I just expected more out of them. Do you think Israel would behead one of their own for nighttime nakedness? We should ask Lebanon, see what they say. I really don't know, I'm just making stuff up now. Don't be pissed off, I love both countries equally. Except for the beheading a witch thing. I'm really not into that, I thought that ended a few years ago now. And what if the blade isn't sharpened properly? Like a butter knife?

So, I guess Beirut is crossed off my list of places to work or visit for the time being. It was a little easier not to chew gum in Singapore. But to keep my mouth shut, that is not possible. There is always a good chance that random stuff will leak out of my mouth. Just a few drinks, and I would have been talking up Wicca like it was the new Christianity. I would have been famous, though. But really dead 48 hours later.

Brings me to my thought of the day. Why can't people accept new or different? It blows me away that we are all living on the same earth but have this constant need to control the sheep and demonize the dogs with our ill-conceived notions of what is right. Metaphorically speaking, of course (I know, it's difficult to tell with me). You can't even walk into a prospective job without having to deal with their visual image of the "right" fit. No point in having credentials at all. You want to be a truck driver, grow a foot, mess up the hair, swear a little, get a few extra minutes at the tanning bed and grow your butt a couple of inches. You might want to slap a penis on while you're at it because they're not listening to a word you say after the door swings open. So, I tell stories, children's bible stories. I like to kill off Davie and Goliath in the end usually. And answer questions with numbers. Nobody is listening.

Is there ANYBODY out there listening?????

Day 58: Going Big or Going Home

You're probably well aware already that I change my mind like I change my underwear. I'm a pretty good smelling woman, so that's at least everyday for your information. I decided after waking up from my 11-hour unemployment slumber this morning that I'm going to go big or bust. And what is the biggest thing I can think of for Alberta? Trucks. Big ass, transport trailer trucks. You don't even have to know how to spell your name. That's my dream job. I'm telling you right now, my university degree and college diplomas are currently useless. I'm done. I'm not writing them off completely yet, but the thought of going back to work in an office, or inside a flight dispatching fish bowl, or even inside period, would be devastating to me. I spent my twenties working outdoors, nearly dying of pneumonia, warming up by the equipment exhaust, and freezing my tongue to anything I licked (I lick alot, it's a strange habit). And I loved every second of it. When your inside, you get closer to people, and people aren't really that interesting or even nice. And they certainly don't smell all that good. Outside, you put your headset on and tune the world out. Except when the engines are running, it's a good idea to look up then, poor little M. found that out the hard way one time (don't worry, I saved him).

Yeah, I'm going back to basics for now, but not without the big bucks. Truck driving in Alberta is the biggest money machine out there, and I'm going to the ATM to cash in. With a little help from UI. Finally figured out what they're good for. Yup, truck driving is going to pay for my real passions in life. Just wish I knew what those passions were...And if I'm going home, what better souvenir than a truck license?!

PS. Homeless dude in the laundramat - don't bring your lunch in with you next time, it freaking stinks. The smell reminded me of my living room last year during the Fringe Festival. That was not pretty.

Day 57: Beating a Horse. The Dead One.

Every six months or so I ceremoniously apply to Westjet for an apprenticeship position. I've been doing this for eight years now. I still do this for Air Canada as well, although Air Canada seems to always be in financial trouble so I never expect them to call me back. However, you would think that after eight years of nothing, absolute NOTHING, 1000+ resumes sent out for AME apprenticeship, that I would have stopped beating the horse by now. The dead one. At what moment are you supposed to realize there is no hope for you and your diploma? At what point do you stop going to school to upgrade with 2 or 3 degrees and decorate them with other various certificates? When do people start to realize that if your Uncle Father or Auntie Mom doesn't get you in, there's a good chance your resume went straight to the shredder? Two months after being fired and a mental breakdown later, that's when.

The mental breakdown happened this weekend. I am strangely okay. Nothing like going to Red Deer for a night to make you feel better about living in Edmonton. But now it's Monday, and jobhunting has never been more crucial (I think I'll go do my laundry first, I'm down to my Hello Kitty underwear again...) but what am I to do, throw away my past credentials and start fresh, whatever fresh is at 35? Or continue on down the path of insanity and start fighting for bottle collecting territory? What to do...

I'm going to do laundry, that's what I'm going to do. No more thinking. New resume, new direction tomorrow. I'm thinking Starbucks might not be such a bad job anymore.

Day 56: My Fire Exit is a Back Draft

There are some things in life you just can't change and then there are things that are everchanging. Number one, you can't change yourself. Life made you the way you are, you'd have to go back to your three-year-old self and then head out on the open road to a new life in order to be someone different. Skipping town as a three-year-old is a difficult thing to do, trust me, but bus fare is cheap. I must say, though, the things a three-year-old had to do for a dime way back when...Washing dishes at Mrs. S's house for two hours, isn't that like child slavery? Anyway, we adapt to some situations and even sometimes our personalities are affected by that adaptation, but we'll always be us. Take us, or leave us, but do not stand there and expect us to change.

When you first get hired on at a job or even first start dating someone, you'd think that they would know all this, or at least figure it out in the three-month probationary period. But they don't. They wait until you've got nothing else lined up and slam you with a, "You know, you're just not the right fit." or "You're just not up to our level." or "You're going to have to put your pants on if we're going out for dinner.". Those are some pretty high expectations, considering you were up to their level upon hiring and you've never considered pants an important part of your wardrobe before. The bar has just been set to the next level of mundane, expectations have changed, and nobody has bothered to let you know.

Changed expectations are never reasonable, either. What snapped in their head to make them decide that you're no longer good enough? Or were you just some oddity to begin with to shake things up and then get thrown away? Or are they too lazy and scared to deal with the innovations and excitement that come out of using a back draft as a fire exit? People say they want innovation and different, but what they really want in the end is a robot employee or cookie-cutter girlfriend/boyfriend. This is "safe". F***ing redundant and bland, but "safe" for them.

However, "Safe" doesn't allow a company or a person to adapt to a world and society that IS changing. How many times do our taxpaying dollars have to be used to save GM or Air Canada from bankruptcy protection? I'm figuring forever, because these corporations aren't going to change. Not everyone wants a F***ing truck, okay? And Air Canada, Airbuses suck ass, yet you keep buying them. What did Boeing ever do to you except offer good, affordable, WORKING planes? Ah, yes, that's right, Brain Mulroney and the corruption of the 80s happened.

The way I figure it, the golfers at the top won't let anyone in except for mini-mes; They're just to lazy and coddled to deal with different and channel it into a profit. It's the same with relationships. We are rewarded in society when we maintain a certain standard which has been dictated to us through the media. Capitalism is our world order, buy buy buy, buy baby clothes, buy family cars, buy a family house, we'll lend you the money at a premium, but just don't stop buying. An indebted society is also a controllable one for a government. Don't want any more social movements happening without government orchestration, screw the 60s and those damn hippies. Lets knock this country back into the 50s. Whatever. Something will snap. Nothing like a good revolution, couldn't be worse than Whyte's crack corner on a Saturday night.

In the end, everyone needs to start enjoying people for who they are and start taking some risks. Have some fun. Dive head first into something, the water is deeper than you think. And if you don't start accepting people for who they are and enjoying the idiosyncrasies and using those idiosyncrasies to your advantage instead of expecting them to morph into something they're not, then you've got nothing but divorce and bankruptcy and sadness in your future. Good luck with that.

Day 55: Need to Know Basis

There's information that needs be shared. And then there's information that should NOT be shared. Myself, I like to keep myself on a need to know basis; there's alot of information out there that I REALLY don't want to know. Like why some guy stopped calling me two months ago. I got the hint after a couple of weeks, thanks. No need to email me any explanations. You were already forgotten. On top of it, lame apologies are just that - lame. Your an a**hole. Move on. Get over yourself. Period. Your not redeeming yourself with statements like, "You'll find a guy who appreciates you someday.". Of course I will, I'm not the a**hole. I like people for who they are and even more for what makes them unique. I enjoy every moment of people I choose to be with. What leaves a bad taste in my mouth in the end (which to me was about two months ago) is someone trying to make a pie out of cake mix. I'm not a pie. I'm 100%, sweet delicious cake. You either like cake and the funky icing on top or you don't. I won't judge. And you shouldn't, either. One thing is for sure for me now, nobody is ever going to make me put my pants on for the pizza delivery guy again. And the icing is staying on, too.

Heyyyyyyyy. There. I'm done. I'm back. It's still a beautiful weekend and life is sweet. Because, well, I'm alive. Bunnies not even required. What does this have to do with unemployment? Hah, good question. I'll think about that... Okay. ALOT. I'm also a veteran of bad jobs. Breaking up (lack of a better phrase, we weren't even really together) is alot like getting fired. I think it's always decent of the company to let you know that they are firing you and let you know that showing up for work the next day wouldn't be such a great idea. Information you don't want to hear, though, is that the door codes have been changed and the premises are being monitored by security to make sure you stay away. That just stings, man. I don't even remember how to make it past the traffic circle to get there. People assume too much about me.

Lastly, after you've been fired or dumped (lack of a better phrase), you really don't need to be re-fired or re-dumped. I can just imagine my ex-boss calling me tomorrow and saying, "By the way, I'm just calling to remind you that you're fired. Do you want to do lunch?". Yeah, no, thanks dude, and I hope you still have security guarding the premises because that just makes me feel a little crazy. But then I'd have to remember how to get there. And I can't. Once again, I will forget everything that happened in the last 48 hours very shortly. It's my 48-hour rule. So if I don't set fire to anything tonight, it's definitely never going to happen. Sleep tight.

Day 54: Sacred Bunnies

Whenever I have a bad day, I think bunnies. A good bunny is almost as good as a quaalude. Better, actually. You can drink wine and watch bunnies. Quaaludes don't mix so well with alcohol. Although Roman Polanski might disagree. But bunnies are my sanity. Except that time when MW ran over the cute little white one at work. Really, MW, how fast were you driving in the parking lot? Karma, dude, that's such bad karma. Anyways, I'm thinking bunnies today. Not for me, I have no stress in my life, but for someone else a little more deserving. For other people a little more deserving of the sacred bunny remedy.

In Alberta, the bunnies are big enough to crush you and steal your car AND your purse all at the same time. But somehow still as soothing as the cute little white ones in Ontario. Just don't make eye contact, is all. Albertan bunnies are like the Albertan people out here, cute in the winter with their fluffy winter coats. But when the winter coats come off...things are missing. Body parts. Extremities. Eyeballs. And you realize about then that it wasn't the winter coats that made them look big. They ARE big. Not so cute. I guess the oil patch, -50C temperatures, and harmone injected cows kind of take that genetic band and stretches it to its limits and then lobs off a piece. However, looks are deceiving. I'm getting kind of attached to the gentle giantness of it all. I like my Albertan bunnies.

Anyway, trying to get to the point here, it's hard though. I was going to go out and chase bunnies last night at 2am. Normally I chase bunnies and take pictures of them when I'm stressed. But the roommate stopped me, said I didn't have a flash on my phone camera. He's right. I don't. So I had all my friends forward me bunny pictures from their cell phones this morning. Why? I forget now. There was supposed to have been a moral to this story...

Oh yeah, I remember now. I've recently discovered how easy I've had it all these years, hey, I'm no superhero. In fact, I'm the opposite. I'm like, super idiot. Most of my bad situations have been brought on by myself. Besides my dad's illnesses and passing away, the only scary super-stress moments in my life were 1. When I smoked all that weed in grade 9 and fell down the ravine into the golf course and got picked up by the cops (that wasn't the scary part. I almost missed curfew that night, facing my mom late and stoned would have been the end of life as I knew it), 2. Being arrested in Mexico (and then my Scottish father discovering bargaining at the worst moment ever, but it worked), 3. Nearly getting arrested in Taiwan (no scooter license, apparently I speak pretty good Russian when I need to though), 4. The run-in with the Mexican army (wrong beach, oops), 5. The little CJ I was on going to Mexico one year via Atlanta catching fire (you'd think they would have let us off the plane while they were putting out the fire, though, I was actually just pissed off at that one), 5. E-landing in YMX back in 1990 (nowhere to refuel over the Atlantic, I guess, but you'd think they would have brought enough fuel along for the ride in the first place), 6. Yellow cab dude (I won't get into details except that I refused to go to Madrid and that backpack was really heavy), 7. My dad taking the wrong pass in the alps with a standard transmission (afraid of Swiss people and heights to this day).

That's about it. The rest of the time, I hide my head in the sand or run away. I don't have the passion to go out there and save people's lives for a living. And if someone told me tomorrow that my dating life for the next two months was a committed relationship to an oncologist, I'd be really stupidly pissed off. Like, yelling at strangers from my window kind of pissed off-ness. I don't have passion. I don't have peace. But there are people out there with all of that. They enjoy their jobs helping people. They are at peace with the fact that they, not some other deserving bastard, got nailed with cancer. I think it's time I start finding passion and peace myself, but outside of Margueritaville this time. Then when I finally do get a good reason to be a little stressed out, I can deserve the sacred bunny remedy myself. In the meantime, I'm giving away my bunny remedy to the superheros out there. Thanks for making it real for me this week. I think I might actually have my life under control for once.

Day 53: To Eat or Not to Eat

Wow. Another 48-hour day. I really need to get a watch. And a calendar. A job would help, too. Well, I can't remember much from the past two days. I'm just going to call it "writer's block". By the way, the "stop drinking" initiative didn't work out too well after I decided to cook the other day. The end result was really quite gross/can't even describe so I decided to just stop eating instead. It would be easier that way. So, I still needed substance and I cracked open a beer. It was just all downhill from there.

I went to Costco today, got lost four times, bought nine boxes of Mac and Cheese, because that's what you do when you go to Costco. The Mac and Cheese thing, I mean. The getting lost thing is just my thing. Add a traffic circle into the mix, and I'm totally screwed. Highway construction, I'll never make it. Going to West Edmonton Mall area, I might as well just bring a sleeping bag because I'm sleeping on the side of the road. Wave to me if your driving by sometime. Anyhow, if I do end up eating again, it's Mac and Cheese all the way. I figure I've got enough Mac and Cheese to sustain life for a month.

Today I discovered that a Job Fair at the unemployment office actually means recruiting for slave labour at Tim Horton's. Not that there's anything wrong with working at Tim Horton's, I'd rather be working there than at my last place of work without a doubt. You don't have to worry whether or not the pilot's know where they're going and you get tipped for getting them their coffee instead of a long-winded description of their pulled groin muscle. However, I think I'd be taking a paycut from my unemployment check, which I got the other day. Yeay, I can pay rent!!! Good times.

Oh man, I'm eating again, I just had cake. Dammit. No beer for me tonight. My office fat is reforming into a beer belly, drastic measures have to be taken. Maybe I'll just switch to vodka. In fact, I think vodka is the answer to everyone's problems. We should all drink more vodka.