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...