SO many to choose from

I just spent a little time surfing around this blogger site to see if there was anything interesting out there.

Nope. All just as BO-ring as mine. People blogging about their weight struggles, their relationship struggles, their get rich schemes, their creepy hobbies...(dude, you know who you are, and it's just not right to be THAT in to Star Trek...) I thought I'd find some inspiration, ya know? Turns out I am just like all the rest, with no more ability to keep anyone's eyes locked on my page than the rest of them. So where does that leave me? Boring the masses( har, har) with my daily hole diggings? Onward!

I feel like I used to be more brave, funnier...Yes I was pissed off most of the time but it made good reading...now I feel like I've let people down with all this A.A., recovering alcoholic business. That's gotta bore the shit out of y'all. Frankly, it bores the shit out of me too. I got sober to live and now I don't know what the hell to do next.

I start a crappy waitressing job on Thursday, another crap job in a line of crap jobs and I'm feeling sorta lost. When I sang at my show in April, it was so clear. I have to sing. I have to do the things that I love. Fuck all y'all! I'm leaving on the next bus to New York, or the next flight to L.A. and I'm gonna scream in Fear's face and just do it. Right. Still here. Haven't sung in public since.

Some sound guy recorded that show and I have made copies and given them away to some friends and family. Everyone says I'm good. That I should just do it (No money has gone to Nike for the theft of their line..Ha!). My CD is playing on a small station in Halifax somewhere, because a friend of my parents' works there and the station head really liked a couple of tracks. My blog was used as a part of a multi media snippet on a television show called Zed. I auditioned for Canadian Idol, not really to be the next Canadian Idol (gag), but to overcome my fear of being judged. I DID stuff. Shit now all I can do is whine about how I get handed the shit end of the stick all the time and how I'm not APPRECIATED the way I think I should be by my boyfriend. Lame cop-out. God, no wonder nobody reads this thing. Where did all the hutzpah go?

I know I start to make myself feel like shit every time I take a job that I hate JUST to pay the bills because it feels as if I'm one more step AWAY from what I really want to do. AND I know that everytime I get close to verbalising what I really want to do, I get scared and say..."Oh well, this will do." When I took Creative Writing at Concordia University, I had a really scary teacher who would just crucify everyone's work in class. I was shit scared when my time was up and I had to present my work to her and the rest of the students. The day it was to be discussed in class I braced myself for the worst. She came into the class, looked me directly in the eyes and said "Your story was so good I nearly missed my stop on the bus".

I never went back to that class.

I have always had a problem with success. fear...that ugly, ugly thing that I can't seem to shake. I realise now that what I'm telling myself is..."If I do this and people like it, either they are a)wrong or b) they will eventually find out I am a fraud and the sucess will be gone anyway...so why get my hopes up?" This is so incredibly lame I can't believe it's true.

And then besides this insanity, my indecisiveness takes over. Well what is it that I really want to do? Is it to sing or is it to write? Which am I better at...?(OK...PLEASE DON'T JUDGE ON THE BASIS OF THIS BECAUSE I REALISE IT'S JUST INSANE RAMBLING) Which will bring me more? Should I just take another secretarial job five days a week that leaves me too tired to think or do anything else because I'm fooling myself if I think I can make a living at the things I love? And what of writer's block or of sore throats? I know I have to pay bills and eat...but should I be looking for a career? A career of serving other people, never feeling good enough and being talked down to by artless sexual harassing retards? Is this what I am supposed to do to be the good daughter, the good girlfriend, the good solid member of society? God I fucking hope not.

Bowling for Dawson

At 12:41 pm today police received a distress call that a young man in his early twenties had opened fire on students with a semi-automatic weapon oustide Dawson College.

I can't formulate thoughts right now. My thoughts are with the victims and their loved ones. My thoughts are also with the parents of the young man who carried out the shooting.

Didn't we all say this couldn't happen to us? Didn't Michael Moore tell us how safe we were? I went to Dawson College. I smoked outside where some of the kids were shot. I am watching the loop of video on the news channels, the reporters asking these kids how they felt and I can put myself there. I am grateful for my life right now and that feels selfish.

I need to find a way to help, because I know there is a problem, one that none of us can clearly identify, one that we want to put the word "crazy" on and walk away from like nothing can be done. I know better. I know there is love in this world...but so many of us have lost it.

"Mother, mother
There's too many of you crying
Brother, brother, brother
There's far too many of you dying
You know we've got to find a way
To bring some lovin' here today" - Marvin Gaye

What happened to August?

So I don't work Mondays anymore. Pretty clever huh? I say I hate Mondays and that they are to blame for suicides and car accidents and my general malaise associated with working at all...and now I don't work Mondays.

I thought it would be a perk, something that would make the revulsion of working another shit eating job less dizzying (would you like a cappuccino with your pile of feces?). But no. But never.

Even without working Mondays I am a bundle of nerves. I am consummed with worry about small, ridiculous, inconsequential things. "Will I have time to do the laundry today?" can be a make or break the day question. What I want to do is crawl back into bed pull the covers up tight and shut everything out. Hard to do when you live with someone. They do that pesky expecting stuff from you thing. Like expecting you to not rip their head off and cry when they ask you a question.


I am worried about money. All the time. And I see money walk in and out of the salon every day. Big money with teeth. Privileged people who spend their lives shopping and getting their hair and nails done. I am envious and angry around these people. Most of them treat me like I am a dirty servant. And maybe I am. Maybe this is my lot.



Getting out of bed is a start I guess.