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.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Sunday, June 6, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
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!
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!
Sunday, May 2, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
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.
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.
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