Down with that sort of thing....

My last post was, I realize, horribly depressing (as was every other post in the last year or so.... sorry about that). But this week has been happy so far so I wanted to show you guys that I've been doing more than mope this last semester. I also have painted pretty pictures!

Unfortunately, there is not a whole lot of positivity in this post.

I think that lately I've been shutting myself off from the world. It has been frighteningly easy. It's not like I'm avoiding phone calls and making up excuses, I've just stopped trying. And apparently so has everyone else. And I understand. When I think about people I care about feeling ignored I feel like a bad friend, but then I go back to pretending there isn't a world out there. I've thought of calling up friends but all I had to talk about was how shitty I felt and truth be told, I spend enough time thinking about that already.

I used to think I'd grown from my awkward teenage self into a confident person with the help of loving friends. But I think what really happened was that I surrounded myself with people who made me feel good about myself so I never had reason to lack confidence. Now that these happy interactions are limited, I'm forced to rely on my own self esteem. Which, as it turns out, I have little of. Lately I'm able to convince myself that basically everyone I run into thinks I'm a complete idiot. From my french customers that I'm unable to speak to without stuttering and mumbling, to my coworkers who I'm unable to connect with, to my drawing class where everyone has so much to talk about as long as its not with me, to the people on the metro who are clearly staring at my sourpuss face and bad hair.

Today was a good day. I told my drawing prof that his class gave me anxiety. I don't know why I said that, clearly I really need someone to blurt out the embarrassing details of my life to. The ironic part is that I would not have told him this if I weren't having a good day. If I was having yet another shitty day, I would have mumbled my way through the interview, told him everything was awesome, and hightailed it outta there as soon as I could.

I don't know where I'm going with this. Something has changed fundamentally in my life and I can't really put my finger on what exactly. I can't even say if the change itself is good or bad, all I know is that it hasn't really affected me in any positive way.

My last drawing assignment was supposed to be about something we couldn't make up our mind about. I had to laugh. The list is a LOT shorter the other way around....

Why I hate weekends.

I can't help but shake the feeling that something is wrong. That I've made some big mistake in my life, that I am not doing something important, that there is something very wrong with me.... I don't feel like this everyday... just about every other day.

I'm really trying hard to put it into words and I've been mentally writing this blog post for months now. The truth is, I just don't know who I want to be. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. At some point I rejected the notion that I needed to get a normal "career" which involved picking what I wanted to do to make a living for the rest of my life. I convinced myself to ignore money and devote myself to my own projects and the money part will work itself out.

The problem is that right now I have to force myself to work and think. When I am working on a project the only time I am not full of anxiety over it or dreading it is when I'm actually focused on the project. But to get to that point I have to constantly fight with myself and negotiate and argue and convince and manipulate.... It shouldn't be this hard! If this is what I want to do, then why don't I just do it! And if this ISN'T what I want to do, then what the fuck else am I going to do? Because it's not like I'm distracted by some other great plan, I basically just want to sit on my couch, surf the internet, drink a beer or two, watch some movies.... Be a loser essentially. Be that person that we all know and enjoy but don't really think much of or respect.

And oh god do I not want to be that person. I just don't know who else I'm supposed to be.

I generally feel most at peace on weeks where I keep myself really busy. I come home tired but ultimately satisfied. Day where I do little, I get depressed, angry, anxious, restless and unbearably lazy. I've been like this for as long as I can remember. Lately I've started wondering if being busy just prevents me from asking questions about my own life. Or does it genuinely make me happy? Does the absence of unhappy thoughts make you happy?

Somewhere deep down inside of me is someone who thinks I can do better but they're fighting it out with someone even deeper down who thinks I'll never really amount to much....

eurgh

Just wrote something, in Halifax. Too not sober to evaluate whether or not I should post it. Need to meet new people in Montreal, need to meet new people period. Want to travel, miss David. Conflicted.

!!!!

Last night, and this morning, I slaved away at writing a less-than-a-page cover letter IN FRENCH for a Gallery Technician job.

I just got a call for an interview.

Naturally I go through a few stages:

1) elation- the whole woohoo, do a little dance, I fucking rock stage

2) reality- I probably won't get it. It's a cool job, I'm sure someone with more experience will get it.

3) fear- oh god I have to go to an interview. WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING TO WEAR.



Now the real question remains: Do I continue handing out resumes?

Yes, it's true, I'm still alive.

Emily, or her alternate evil twin Crewboss Emily, is still alive. She has turned into an angry, irritable person whose hobbies now include cursing, yelling at her crew and driving a large van down questionable roads.

Seriously, my job is to drive a lot and make sure people plant a lot of trees using whatever combination of yelling, begging, teasing, bullying, encouraging, manipulating, lying, verbal abuse and the occasional bribery that gets the job done. I shower once a week and otherwise more or less completely forget that there is such a thing as personal hygiene the rest of the time. My body has become purely functional and I often forget that I'm female and that there was ever a time that I wore skirts and cared about my appearance.

David is beloved by the camp as he brings them food and comfort whereas I bring them pain and misery. I think this is the first time in my life that I don't care if I'm liked. It's simply not in my job description.

I have experienced a small-scale epidemic. In the span of a week our entire 30 odd person camp, save about 5 people, got the flu. Puking sucks, puking in a tent sucks more. There also some sort of lung rot disease going around. And it rains a lot here. Moral has been low.

Drove the van into a ditch. Wasn't my fault, it was snowing (ok it was my fault)(PS- don't tell my mom). I haven't ruin the van yet. I did put a dent in another crewboss' van. I got his christian forgiveness though, so it's ok. Oh, Fun Fact: Google '15 seat van' and check out the third result from the top. Now picture one of those with a roof rack and 15 hockey bags each stuffed with camping gear. I have never been so convinced of the likely hood of my death.

Last two days off have been in camp. None of the 3 hotels in Atikokan will have us since we fucked one up (I use the word 'we' loosely. I was in bed by 11). It's not so bad though, camp has a bar and showers. But beers are 4$ and showers are 6$. So other than night off, most people are staying stinky and sober.

That's pretty much the all the verbal diarrhea I can come up with now. My laundry is sitting in the dryer at the laundromat. I should collect it. Hope you are all alive and well. Should be back by the end of June. But that's a treeplanting plan, which means absolutely nothing. As I tell my planters, "Plant until we tell you to stop".

Peace out, yo.

I'm off. Don't die while I'm in the woods.

<3

Dear marriage: Go fuck yourself -or- my 's' key is sticky tonight

So I just watched this movie. Classic chic flic. This is what I do when I have the night alone: drink beer, make oven pizza and watch a shitty girly movie.

The movie, He's Just Not that Into You, starts off okay. (by the way, I'm totally going to ruin the ending for anyone who cares, which you don't [trust me]) The basic opening premise is that women tell each other these fairy tale stories to make eachother feel better about their shitty love life. Stuff like... Oh, I have this friend whose boyfriend cheated on her but it the end it only made their relationship stronger! Or.... My cousin had a crush on a coworker for YEARS and he never showed interest until one day she found out he was secretly in love with her this whole time! Basically the point was that these stories are the exception to the rule : If someone doesn't seem interested, then they probably aren't.

And I thought.. hey, what an interesting point. That love isn't a fucking fairy tale. It just happens. It generally takes work to make it last and even then sometimes it doesn't. And sometimes when you care about someone they just don't care back. Or some sort of good dose of realism like that. Either way, at least it was different. BUT THEN THEY FUCKING RUINED IT.

For example: couple has been together for 7 years, not married. She wants it and he doesn't believe in it. I'm thinking... AWESOME. Finally a movie that doesn't treat marriage as the end all and be all of couple-hood, that any couple that doesn't eventually get married isn't by default settling into a dissatisfied, unhappy and pathetic existence. But then she breaks up with him. And I'm like... well fuck her, she was a tool anyways. But then they get back together because she realises that what she really wants is him. And I'm like... Good! She gets it, you don't need to be married to be happy. THEN HE FUCKING PROPOSES. At this point I was holding out hope that maybe, just MAYBE, she would refuse to let him compromise his ideals or even, god forbid, re-evaluated why she even needed marriage. But no, they do the deed and presumably live happily ever after.

I could go through the list of interesting storylines that they ruined for the hollywood happy endings: woman who is meeting people online (but that's too pathetic for hollywood so they have her hookup with a real dude), guy and girl who form a friendship (but they can't be friends! They're opposite sexes! They MUST end up falling in love with eachother!), man who falls in love with a woman other than his wife (but hollywood can't encourage that sort of thing so the man gets a divorce and he and his mistress end up sad and alone [god forbid that we admit the possibility that people are complicated and that we can't control who we fall in love with] ).

I didn't actually expect that this movie be different but the fact that it presented this other storyline other than the classic cliches made it all the more frustrating when they turned around and said "Nah, JUST KIDDING! Life really is a fairy tale where all the good people get what they want and meanies like cheating husbands and mistresses don't get shit!"

I don't get marriage. It's so artificial. If you really want to be with someone then you are with them. You don't need marriage to make that happen. People always say that it's a sign of commitment to one another, but I see it as a way to stop having to think about your relationship. It's tied away in a tidy box so you don't have to consider what you really mean to eachother or why you're together.

I know i'm overgeneralizing. I don't acutally think all marriage is bad. I just don't think it's necessary. Same as children. But I'll save that rant for another day.


Sorry for the rambling, but I wrote my final exam of the semester, and more than likely last for my BFA , today and I feel a little restless.

But really I need to get up at 4:30am tomorrow so I should head to bed.

Rhonda, this gum tastes terrible. Just thought you should know.

My birth control ran out some time in the fall and I never got around to getting a new prescription until recently. I noticed that as soon as I stopped taking it, my periods started getting heavier and more physically intrusive in my life. The last few months for about a week prior up until a few days into my period I've felt terrible. It even seems like it's getting progressively worse. I feel completely drained of energy like there's a weight on my chest physically holding me down. I get anxious and irritable for no apparent reason. Last night I cried for literally no reason. It seriously affects my productivity too. I hate that my body can affect me this way. I know that a lot of this can be helped by stuff like regular exercise and eating properly but I don't really have the money/time/motivation to take care of myself like I know I should.

Today I was productive. The art show is coming up. None of the paintings that I plan on putting in are finished... But they're all close!
yeah... probably should have cropped it...



Both of these are very close to done.... but not quite..

Sometimes being wrong is good.

Recently Rhonda, Laura and I applied to show as a group at Concordia's VAV gallery. To be absolutely brutally honest, I didn't think we'd get it. Partly because I don't know if I've EVER seen an all-painting show there and partly because, well ... I'm a pessimist.

But god damn, do I fucking love being wrong.



oh and PS- The whole weird period and moodiness thing... turns out I was just PMSing.

TMI?

This is a story a coworker shared with me that for some reason upset me the more I thought about it. I thought I'd share with you. There is a man who comes in every day and asks for a toasted bagel with peanut butter and jam. We do not, nor have we ever, served peanut butter. Jam, yes. Peanut butter, no. I guess the first time he asked for it Ely overheard him and I don't know if he was feeling generous or if the guy was really charming but Ely offered him some of his Personal Stash peanut butter. And I'm not sure how or why this happened, but Ely told this man and whoever was working that day that this customer, and ONLY this customer, could have some of his peanut butter. Fine.

The thing is, the guy comes in and asks for the peanut butter everyday, regardless of whether or not Ely is working. There are around 15 people who work with us, so often when the guy asks for it someone will politely tell him that we don't have any (not even knowing Ely has some hidden in a cupboard somewhere), unaware on their "arrangement". This happened to me and the man smugly pointed out where it was hidden and expected me to do his bidding. My coworker told me that the other day he said: "you're going to go in that cupboard, get the jar of peanut butter that's there, take a scoop out with a little spoon, put it on a plate with 2 jams and one butter". She stared at him, smiled, said "okay!" went to the cupboard, found the peanut butter, threw it behind everything (when you open the door it blocks his line of sight) and told him that she had no idea what he was talking about because their was no peanut butter. He then turned to another girl working and asked HER to look. She did, not knowing that it was now hiding behind a bunch of junk, and confirmed that there was indeed no peanut butter.

Later that day a bunch of us discussed the matter and communally agreed that since this man insisted on treating us like incompetent retards for not knowing we had peanut butter and since he was now taking advantage of someone's generosity by DEMANDING the favor everyday, peanut butter was no longer available to him. Let this be a lesson to all of you; be nice to your barista, for we control your peanut butter supply.

I don't know what my deal is lately, but I'm unsociable, unmotivated and just generally unhappy and stressed. My period only lasted a day and a half which is about, I dunno, about 5 to 7 days shorter than, oh, just about every period I've had ever. Which is too much info for most of you, but whatever. I looked it up, which is totally pointless I know, and it could mean pretty much anything ranging from absolutely nothing, to stress, to tumors or some shit like that. I'm a little sketched.

I skipped out on painting tonight because I was exhausted but then felt relatively awake all night. I feel like a lame asshole for presenting an unfinished painting in class tomorrow. I'm feeling frustrated right now.

You know when you start your day off with an advil that it's going to be a good one.

I have to be at work at 6am this morning. As early as that is, it doesn't justify getting up at 4am. After lying awake in bed for almost an hour. After only dozing in and out of sleep for a couple hours prior to that. Oh, and dreaming of work during the intermitent periods where I DID sleep.

Lately I feel like I'm an unsatisfactory person. To other people that is. I'm generally more or less okay with me. I don't know if it's just me being down on myself (thereby contradicting my last statement) or if I am genuinely not living up to people's expectations but for some reason in the last few weeks I feel like people just aren't that happy with me. Maybe it's just the realization that all that awesome personality (hah.) is just a cover for a person who is generally unreliable, late, forgetful and just sort of a pain in the ass. Or maybe I'm projecting.

Whatever.

I need to go shower now or I might be late for work. Which, correct me if I'm wrong, would be ironic.

DILEMMA.

Friday is the deadline for artist submissions for Art Matters (a concordia art festival for all of you not in the loop). I have a few paintings that I don't hate but none that are really jumping out at me. I guess I can take this opportunity to show you some recent works.


So internet, if you had to pick one, which would it be?
1.
2.3.

oh and just for kicks...

Merry belated Christmas.