A co-worker recently asked me what my hopes, dreams and fears were.
"I just want a place of my own and to not have to keep moving, like, every year. My fear? Every time I see a homeless person I'm scared that that'll be me."
It would be nice to stay in one place -- somewhere clean and safe -- for longer than a year or two. To "nest" and decorate without worrying that it's a waste of time and money because I'll just be leaving in a couple months.
With my first place I had saved up some money but shortly after moving in my work started laying people off and I didn't know how much longer I'd have a job. So I never really "decorated." It was basically bare bones.
Then I decided to go back to school and rented a little basement bachelor. Money was tight as I was working only part-time, so bare bones it was again.
My father then asked me to move back in with him and so move again I did. The apartment was already nicely furnished thanks to my dad's horrible GF and I tried to embrace living with Pops again, buying art for my room and applying wall decals. Cheesy but I liked it.
In a few months, however, my dad and his GF had gotten back together and my responsible dear ol' dad decided he was moving back in with her. Me? I had to look for another place.
My next place I didn't even spend one night in. It was horribly infested with roaches and probably everything else. I hightailed it to my "friend" Bert's and stayed at his place for 3 months before finding another one bedroom.
I was so broke when I moved into this place. I was perennially in overdraft. Every paycheck about half of my pay went to the overdraft, leaving me with not enough for bills and other expenses, thus propelling me to use overdraft again and again. It was a vicious circle. I had also been paying Bert like $400 a month because I felt so guilty for basically forcing myself into his living space. To his credit, he never asked for money, but he did take it.
I could barely afford towels and utensils at this last place. As time went on it did get better, but it was really rough the first couple months. But at least I had a roof over my head. My own lil space. The place itself wasn't so bad. It was pretty big and was by far the best place I had ever lived on my own. On the downside I did see the ocassional roach and the neighbors next door were hella noisy and annoying.
Of course I ended up getting laid off. I stayed at my apartment for about a year after the layoff, before taking my friend up on her offer to move into a spare room -- her brother's who was in Calgary.
So this is where I've been living since February. Has it been ideal? Fuck no. I miss living on my own. I miss using the bathroom whenever the fuck I want. Something you definitely take for granted when you live alone. It's tricky sharing one bathroom between 5 people. Yes, that's right, I'm staying with my friend, her parents and her brother, who came back from Calgary last month, due to having an illness.
I have no idea how long I'll be here for. It's kind of hard to believe that it's already been 6 months. I mean, whoa.
I don't know why it's been so difficult for me to find long-term housing. If you put any stock in numerology, I'm a 5 Life Path, which means our lives are anything but predictable and stable. So perhaps I should just embrace all the changes.
Or maybe the universe is preparing me for something wonderful?
HONESTLY right now I just want it to be the 90s, circa '92, and wear flannel and jeans with holes in them and go to Scarborough and be friends with my mom and get to know who she was and meet a cute boy and listen to Nirvana and Alice in Chains.
So, I totally botched the interview. Years from now I probably won't care or even remember. And to be honest, I didn't really want the job, but I think I wanted to want it. It was good money -- $18.33 an hour -- benefits, RRSP, and good hours. What's not to love???
"So what do you wanna do?" Asks the frenemy.
Cue the crickets.
I think I'm so scared of returning back to that environment. I'm not ready. I hate what it did to my psyche. It's miserable bitch work. Hey, no offense if you enjoy it. I'm happy for you. But it damn near killed me.
I received my hours for August and I'm working quite a bit! I was saddled with another haaarible partner on my last shift. Good partners sure are hard to find.
I wanted to do just a light and fun post today because it's summer and with all the stress I've been through lately, why not?!
Scent: Givenchy Amarige (when I'm feeling sexy, seductive or amorous -- i.e. hot date!) & Marc Jacobs' Daisy (for everyday -- pretty, girly & carefree)
Color: Honestly, I don't really have one. I think all colors have potential to be beautiful, even bright orange or vomit green.I like wearing a lot of red and blue though and black too, of course.
Actor: I LOVE Jack Nicholson. Dat smirk tho!I'm also a fan of Tom Cruise in his non-action roles -- A Few Good Men, Jerry Maguire, Cocktail, Born on the Fourth of July, etc. Take a breather from the Mission Impossibles, Tommy, please!Oh, and Nicolas Cage, of course.
Actress: Jennifer Lawrence is cool. And Diane Keaton. Meryl Streep.
Comedian: Hands down, Louis CK!
Podcast: Penn Jillette's! He makes me laughout loud so hard. In public.
Book: Hard to say. Probably an older book. Blonde by Joyce Carol Oates. Or Whores on the Hill by Colleen Curran. The Torn Skirt, Rebecca Godfrey. Love, Love and Love & May I Kiss You on the Lips, Miss Sandra? by Sandra Bernhard. I read all these years and years and years ago and they've stuck with me.Also, Are You Hungry, Dear? by Doris Roberts.
Movie: Wall Street was my fave movie for a really long time. Charlie Sheen pre-tiger's blood! I love Splendor in the Grass. And Grease 2 (haters be damned!)...Annnd Moneyball, Zodiac, American Hustle and Silver Linings Playbook.
Fast food: Wendy's!
Healthy(ish) food: There used to be this frozen meal kit called Worth Every Penne or something from a company called Crazy Plates. I don't think it's been around in forever, but it was so damn good! Whole wheat penne pasta, chicken breast, mushrooms(?), zucchini(?), yellow peppers(?), feta cheese and this balsamic type dressing. So delish! I've tried recreating myself, but it's just not the same :-(.
Chocolate bar: Hershey's with whole almonds. Get 'em cheap at Dollarama.
Song: I'm very moody and so my fave song changes with my mood.Some faves include Stairway to Heaven, practically anything from Fleetwood Mac, Wish You Were Here, Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight, The Scientist, It Never Rains in Southern California, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, Ride, Chelsea Hotel No. 2...I'll leave it at that!
Couples/pairs/ships: Mulder and Scully, Rory and Logan, J. Law and B. Coop, Tracy and Hepburn, Lee Hazlewood and Nancy Sinatra, Howard and Robin, Stevie and Lindsey, Meryl and Maks.
Panic struck me with blunt force in the middle of the crosswalk. I tried to cough to distract my silly brain from its hysterics, but I gave in, turned 'round, and ran back to where I'd started.
This was not what I'd had in mind.
It's been years since I've been in the area. By myself, on foot. Dad would drive by the house the odd time and we'd turn our heads to look, assess, for that split second before it whipped by and was gone once again.
That house was, in many ways, my only real "home." Ages 11-17 were spent there, some of the most terrifying and lonely times.
One lyric kept repeating in my mind the entire time: "Just to make sure that you were real."
I tried to see the street and sights as my younger self, but I couldn't. It just wasn't the same.
It was like my mother after she died. I was sitting next to her body in the hospital and felt nothing. Numb from grief and shock, I suppose, but it was like a big vacuum of nothingness. "It's not her," I thought to myself. Whatever had made her "her" was palpably gone, and all that was left was the empty shell.
I only wanted to lie on the ground, look up at the sky and watch the clouds roll by; reading something meaningful in-between. On the Road fit the bill:
"Outside of being a sweet little girl, she was awfully dumb and capable of doing horrible things."
"We tiptoed around each other like heartbreaking new friends."
"They rushed down the street together, digging everything in the early way they had, which later became so much sadder and perceptive and blank. But then they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!"
If I had attempted it when I was younger, maybe I might have finished it, but I don't know if it would have resonated and hit me like it did today.
Maybe I'm not giving myself enough credit.
I've been especially restless the last few days. I want to: 1. Go and 2. See stuff. The view of the Atlantic from PE, whale watching in Quebec, riding a train from Toronto to Vancouver. Something. Anything. Out of here, out of Ontario. I feel stuck. M says she'd only go to Quebec with someone who speaks French. When she says things like that, I want to roll my eyes into infinity, and I think to myself "This is one of the reasons why we'll never really be true friends."