The Cannon

If there is one place that is ideal for a hangover it has to be Booster Juice. Regardless of the fact that it is work, after a Brazilian Thunder with boggle and energy boosters, an acai berry shot and a matcha green tea shot, I discovered that I was feeling up to par once again.

After the headache, I got the chance to really sit back and observe my work environment; "post Jaris". This is what I call my job now that the previous Assistant Manager has come back to work. Thin, blonde, and clean...she drives me and every other employee fucking nuts. The two best fit words to describe "Paris" (as Renee calls her) are anal retentive.

I need to quit. It never feels like a good time, mostly due to rent..or groceries..or the Visa bill. This seems to be beside the point though, because there will never come a time where I am one hundred percent certain that it is the responsible/right decision. That is, unless I have another job lined up. Preferably FT.

Okay. That's enough of that. I now never want to post, nor talk about Booster Juice ever again outside of work.

Everything else appears to be going swimmingly. I've been sleeping a fair bit lately, possibly a result of being sick? I'm hoping so, because coming home and needing a nap can be frustrating, not to mention wearing. I'm never the same once up from a deep two-hour "cat nap".

I've fallen into somewhat of a routine lately, which hasn't necessarily become tedious yet. I've noticed that my complaints of friends, or lack thereof, are those of idiocy. Realizing that I actually have been invited out, been given numbers and opportunities. I suppose I just turn them down because one of two reasons. I am either A; fairly content in my current state, and don't find I need a friend or two to play catch-up with...or B; just fucking lazy. Despite which one, I guess I'll stop my fucking whine-fest since I could easily switch or change things around by lifting a finger, even.

Besides, I am still falling into that certain comfortable state, that I am hoping will eventually come, with Dave's friends. I don't expect amazing results, I don't want a best friend, but I'm sure it is slightly tiring that I can be so quiet. It's sort of unexplainable, that one. I suppose that when I feel the need to say something, I draw blanks. Kind of like writing an exam, I'm put under pressure. Sure, it's silly, stupid even. These people aren't fucking sixteen year-old girls, and they obviously aren't going to pass judgment too harshly. And if they do, so what? I dunno. I guess I just figure if I don't talk, then I can look back on a brief conversation and not have to shake my head at dumb things that have tumbled out of my mouth as a result of nerves.

I just have to chill the fuck out, I guess.

Where do I begin?

It's been almost a week and a half since I've been back from Calgary. I thought, maybe, when I returned to Cowtown I would have some feelings of regret, or at least mourn the loss of my previous life.

I couldn't have really been more wrong. It almost helped me in my current state, because I realize that I do really want Saskatoon. I do really want to be out of Mount Royal, and avoiding day-blends. You know, where you've criss-crossed so often from drunk-to hungover-to sober, that your days seem to meld into one large blur.

That being said, after an extremely unsatisfying weekend, Monday was the day. St. Patrick's day was more than enough. I felt eighteen, and spontaneous. It was nice, and although I say I don't miss it, that doesn't mean I don't look back fondly.

So my trip wasn't a total bust.

I needed that. I'm glad with where I am right now, and I just want that to be clear.

I'm happier than I've been in a long time. Rather than picking one specific moment in time to cherish or look forward to, I find there are too many to choose from. I enjoy waking up every morning, and anticipate falling asleep each night.

I figure I finally owed a decent entry to my LJ/Xanga. I mean, God only knows how long it has been since I've posted more than a couple of paragraphs, if that.

Besides, I've been feeling due to write a post lately anyways. Every once in awhile, whether the culprit be boredom or insanity, I find myself, my thoughts, turning themselves into narration. Sort of like the Wonder Years. The voice inside my head is that of my own, and I'm kind of flitting through my life as though summarizing happenings and updates for the sake of another person. Sorting feelings and emotions, and turning it into some sort of story or screenplay.
Anyways. Point being, I hadn't done this in awhile. Yet, the other day, I found myself drifting off into "Wonder Year" mode. That's what I like to call it.

It's nice to know a part of me is back. Ever since being heaved up and re-rooted, my head has been on a little loose. Kind of like getting off of a boat, you're on solid ground but you can't shake the feeling of the waves. I finally sort of feel like the initial shock?, well, whatever you'd call it, has subsided. I'm settling myself into a nice little groove here, and enjoying it all the while.

I'm still getting used to my lack of friends. That not so much itself is a problem, as it is boredom. I miss having the option of getting together with reckless peers and finding something time consuming, as well as equally amusing. Instead, some unplanned nights stay unplanned. I relax, watch a little t.v., have a bath. I can't help but feel like I'm losing a little bit of my youth. I mean, isn't this what my mother does on Saturday nights? That being said, I'm sure Kenton and Cat are tired of my endless complaints. It's not that I'm expecting entertainment to knock on my door, but it would be nice every once in awhile.

I'll be visiting Calgary on St. Patrick's Day weekend, which should definitely be a treat. I miss everyone alot, but let it be said, I have no regrets. The post folling March 17th oughta be fairly lengthy, and full of satisfying adventures.

As Evan stated in his last post, I am lucky to have work being my major complaint. Everything else right now just seems pretty fucking awesome. Surreal, but nice. I have to agree with Dave, when he says that everything is good right now. Including us. Nothing quite beats lingering onto a kiss before work, hoping that doing so will somehow cause the clocks to turn backwards. God knows I try.

And although Paul may say that the title "self-absorbed drama queen" is one that fits me, I can safely say that I feel anything but. I have no complaints at this point, because when reviewed, they just seem so trivial.

"All our young lives, we strive towards something unknown. All the while wondering if this point of utter content is possible for us to reach. I knew, at that moment, that it was."

Imagine, if you will, Fred Savage's voice. You understand the appeal now, don't you!

I don't know whether watching that episode of Six Feet Under did it to me or not, but I found myself thinking about relationships. Or lack of, during my earlier years.

Isn't it odd how looking back on something you once felt so comfortable and in tune with, now seems so impersonal? I feel as though I'm flipping through pages of a book I once read. It's like a vague and distant memory, but I can still remember how it all turns out.

There's no surprise ending, but there is always an ending. And, sometimes, a specific memory triggers that certain spot. Whether it be sadness or happiness (or both) that come flooding back, the realization sort of hits you that it all really happened. I wonder if this feeling is similar with people in general, not just of relationships.

I'm fully aware that the chances of me never seeing these people I once had feelings for, or time invested in, or was even intimate with, are highly likely. Possibly of never again acknowledging their existence, even. I just have these thoughts, these pages.

Which sort of leads me on the path to other people. People I used to see daily, went to school with, were friends with. Some longer ago than others. Every once in awhile a person is mentioned, briefly even, and it almost snaps me back into reality. I knew them, once. Or, I used to be friends with them. Or even, I used to date them.

I guess I'm just baffled that everyone just keeps moving on, regardless.

As I sit here at Dave's computer, and as Dave is sprawled across his bed in some unorthodox position, I can't help but wonder how many events it took to lead up to this exact moment.

I'm quite happy in this setting. Not only five minutes ago, I called into work sick. The truth is, I feel pretty fantastic. The whole day is at my disposal, and I intend to take advantage of that.

Learning to live in the "now", at least for the next few months, has proven difficult. I find it hard to feel a sense of satisfaction, when looking towards the future. Though, I've trained myself to be reassuring, and regardless of unknowns I can't do much.

I'm close to beginning a diet, at the beginning of next week actually. I've been feeling particularly large, and not in charge. It'd be nice to feel physically better, as well as mentally. Besides, I'm walking to work daily, and planning on dusting off Cat's pilates DvD. Ah, the possibilities are endless!

Eventually, when I've had enough, I'll start looking for a new job. Despite the decent hours, Booster Juice is wearing down my soul, and, I know some may scoff at this, but I'd rather a more chill environment. Even the slow days keep steady pace, and I'd just like some time to sit and breathe for Christ sakes.

I've been wanting (needing?) to go back to school. I miss it. I've went through so many years of treating it with so much unimportance, and never realizing that it actually did something for me. What did I have to do that was so better? Leaving my essays until the morning of, arriving to class late to hand it in. It just seems so foolish to me now. I know, there are so many kinks to work out, such as what I will go back to school for. But those are to be resolved at a later date, because I have the time. I have time. It feels nice to say. Sure, technically speaking everyone has time, and yeah, we never have ENOUGH time. But, still. For once I don't feel like the spool is running low, y'know?


Now that Daves breathing is being erratic, I'd better go lie in bed so I can give him a nudge when he hasn't inhaled for over a minute. That's what I'm here for.

My days are short lived. They seem to be slipping through my hands fasted than I can say "Surf's up!". That's a type of smoothie at work, by the way.

I don't know if this is a bad thing or not. I mean, if my days were boring and drawn out they would obviously be going at quite a slower pace, right? I feel like I never have enough time because I come home exhausted, needing rest to wake up for 9 am the following day.

I don't wanna complain about work. Work is something that should revolve around my life, not vice versa. So I'll bite my tongue and bear the brunt of my problems in that particular part.

Although, I will say this. It's incredulously nice out as of yesterday, and after a particularly body throbbing day at work, it just felt good to enjoy it. I walk to-or-from work whenever I can, and I haven't been able to do that for a while. It was nice to actually want to prolong that feeling, rather than hurriedly rushing towards shelter to warm myself.

Perhaps I'll go for a walk today. With my shuffle, since my 30 gig ipod was ruined not so long ago in a freak accident. That's another story.

Although, things like that seem so minuscule, don't they?

I'm not used to this.

Uneasiness has always been somewhat natural to me. I hesitate to use the words "high strung" to describe myself because of it coming off sounding slightly uptight. I'm more along the lines of an anxiety-ridden individual. Always have been.

As of lately, I have little to be worried about. At least within a short time span, everything is going smoothly. Although, my week-by-week schedule of problems has turned into larger concerns that affect the long run of things.
I haven't had a job for over four months. Thanks to education, I've always had a goal I was striving towards. Even if I didn't always consider school as a top priority, it was still considered a goal. There was always an end in sight.

The queasiness in the lower portion of my stomach hasn't quite subsided since this thought.

Cat asked me last night if my current situation made me happy. But can you ever feel happy or content with every obstacle that is thrown your way? Sure, there are different aspects in your life that you feel differently about. I mean, yes. The particular situation makes me happy. But what about the others?

Despite the others, I have someone who will walk me to work in the morning and sleep with me at night. More importantly, I still get that twinge of excitement that I was worried would fade away.

So there isn't much resolved for me. There is still no end in sight. Not for my minimum wage job, not for my non-existent education fund. Not for my indecisive mind.

But I guess that's what this is all about.

I don't have enough time.

I feel like there are specific things that I want or need to do. That could be taking place or happening, and aren't. It's as though whenever I get some time to myself, it is spent wasting away in front of the t.v. for hours on end or having a three hour nap. This isn't completely my fault, and although I will admit to going through bouts of laziness, the majority of time spent doing these things are for one reason and one reason only. I'm exhausted.

My job isn't overly exerting or anything. I think it's just the fact that I have to come to terms with working. I'm not used to being forced out of bed in the morning. I'm not used to bearing such cold weather twice a day, there-and-back. Possibly more, depending.

The cold factor is also really weighing down on my options. I'm holding back on going out for anything that seems insignificant.
Needs:
Food
Money (work)
Love(?)

Haha..uhh. Anyways. Cat is asking my opinion about the rice, so I guess I'll update later.

As I skim through my previous post about occupied time, I can't help but chuckle. Busy as Hell? The complete opposite, in fact.

Lately, as in for the last sixteen days, I have been living in this surreal state. I have no commitments, no job, therefore, no responsibility. The thought of money has been weighing heavily on my mind yet not enough for me to let the anxiety or stress of it all completely take over. And, as of last night, I needn't worry about it anymore. At least for the time being.

I had made it a point to steer clear of my Scotia Bank Online account, for a number of reasons. Mainly, I refused to look at my Visa bill. Silly isn't it? I didn't want that feeling to reside in the pit of my stomach. I didn't want to face that I owed money, and that it was almost an impossibility to pay it back atm. As much as it pains me to admit, I was hoping that maybe, POSSIBLY, my parents had performed a good gesture and paid it off FOR me.

I bit the bullet, and checked it anyways.

To my utter surprise, I found money in my account. Actual MONEY. Apparently my GST check had come through, leaving me with enough to pay for the rent of February. Something I was extremely dreading, since it was fairly likely that I would have to ask my parents for a favour. Which, on many levels, I find degrading and just plain sad. At least in my situation.

Alas, this leaves me with thirty dollars in my pocket for the rest of the month. I've had worse, however. Besides, fifteen dollars a week doesn't sound that bad.

I was awoken by Cat this morning, knocking on my bedroom door and asking if I knew whether we had any cotton balls in the house. I failed to see why this was of any importance, especially to interrupt my sleep for. Regardless, I got out of bed and put some pants on.
Other than the question for cotton balls, the first words I hear are "Rhiannon. Don't freak out."
Now, I'm usually a fairly anxiety-ridden individual on my best days. I thought maybe, the dog had died? Naturally, I freaked out. A little, at least.
Kenton's nose was bleeding profusely, and has been for the last thirty minutes.
"A Summer to Die" ran through my head more than once. Eventually, the bleeding did stop and everything is now fine. And boring.
Kenton has been sick for the past four? days. Cat is constantly irritable and bored, and the same goes for me, only I'm more used to dealing with the seclusion of living here. Plus, I've dealt with one class-no job all semester. I'm used to it all.
It helps that in less than two weeks we will all be busy as hell, only wishing we had a chance to sit down and have nothing on our agendas.

I haven't spent my time here visiting old friends, or even talking to them. Though, tonight I am supposed to go out with a few good friends from Highschool, I find myself just wanting to stay home. I'm practically forcing myself to go out and "socialize"(?) because I know that eventually once I'm there, I'll enjoy catching up. Besides, it's Marlees Birthday and no matter how lame and depressing the Unwinder can be, I'm sure with the right amount of alcohol and conversation I can find myself having a good time.

List of things to do before January:

1. Aundrea. Not actually "do" her, but she was kind of choked that I didn't come see her before leaving Flin Flon the last time. She's high up on my list, it's just hard to actually drag myself up and out of the house for more than an hour at a time.

2. Kim. Fuck. This one is pretty bad. I have no excuses, because her house is only fifteen minutes from mine. I only talked to her (excluding brief msn conversations) once all semester, and like, I realize that she wants to get together probably more than once. It's not a chore, it's just my lazy ass procrastinating.

3. Print off resumes. I have to order an ink cartridge online, so it'd just be easier to photocopy a shitload at the school. Not really as high on my priority list as it should be.

4. Sort through shit. Pictures, clothes, other junk. What am I taking? What do I need? What can I buy there? Not a lot since I have no moola. Despite that, I need to kind of get a hold of myself and start thinking about small things like this.

5. Stop fucking worrying so god-damned much.

I dunno. Lately...lately? What the fuck?

I'm tired of talking about what I want/am going/need to do. I'm tired of thinking about what happens from now on.

Also. There's been this abrasive ringing in my ears for five days now. It's kind of like a pressure/earache thing that is not only annoying but kind of painful. One problem goes away, and another arises right? Sigh. Again..putting off the doctor.

I'm done my exam (note; singular). It feels good, in this sort of bitter-sweet way.

I'm pretty much all packed up now, and Tainchay's stuff is still inhabiting my room. Maybe I'm starting my menstral cycle or maybe I'm just at my wits end, but looking at her stuff cluttering my room makes me physically ill. It's like, if my stuff can't be in the room then neither can hers.

This is the sort of time where you need that big fucking remote for life. You know everything is going to be fine, but it's the point where everything seems so foggy and hopeless.

I don't know whether hypchondriac in me has decided to show its true colours or if I am actually being realistic about all these illnesses/problems I am suddenly experiencing. I have eaten maybe the bare minimum in the last week because of...? Stomach flu?? Possibly an effect of my Mumps vaccination??

I've ruled out "hangover". Depsite the fact that I did go out on Friday, and spend all Saturday trying to keep down water, this feeling has lasted far too long to be a result of alcohol. But, fuck, I tell ya. I am never drinking a bottle of wine before going out EVER again.

So. I haven't been feeling up to par. Everytime I attempt to leave my house/bed situation it ends in disaster. Me coughing into the ditch in fear of vomiting, or tugging on Tainchay's tee shirt that we have to leave the store. I'm getting better, slowly. As said before, the coughing thing. Like, I've had this "cold" or "cough" for almost a month now. It doesn't really do much for my nausea except make it, well, worse.

The thing is..sigh. Well. The thing is I hate going to the doctor. It's this irrational fear/worry that I'm really dying.

It's all those fucking Lurlene McDaniel books.

I'm really happy today.

CALGARY! Need I say more? A few things have happened in the past few days to raise my stress levels to an all-time high, but by now they have decreased significantly.

I don't get my security deposit back. This is real piss-off, and that doesn't even begin to explain my frustration in the matter. The reasoning for this is because I was apparently signed up for both first and second semesters. Now, alas, I only gave them notice a month in advance that I shant be returning. So, now they have to frantically attempt to fill my spot (did I mention there is a waiting list, and Tainch is already getting my room anyways?) so I must pay the price. Literally. Guess how much the cancellation fee is?? Four hundred. Four hundred fucking dollars that could have done a lot for me, and which Mount Royal is probably using to put up those goddamn ugly fences to encourage people to use the sidewalks rather than trampling on their beloved grass. But that's a different story.

Besides, I walk on the grass anyways, just to spite them. It's the principle of the matter.

I haven't dropped my classes yet. I have one day left to withdraw, and OH BOY, of course I've waited til the last minute! Literally. I will probably be biting the bullet at 4:59 p.m. on Monday, chewing my finger nails into stubs in an anxious frenzy. Sigh. Some things never change.

I have to start packing. Isn't that weird? Well, to me, obviously it is. I feel like I just unpacked, and what little homey-feel I have in this room will be in boxes by December. Fuck. I have less than a month to finish everything up, in more ways than one.

Wait. That last sentence implied I have a lot of loose ties to uhh..tie. Which is not true. I'm planning on visiting on March 14th, St. Paddy's weekend. Mind you, I've resisted my urge to make promises, because we all know some things never come about.

As I mentioned earlier, Tainchay is recieving my room in January '08. I'm quite happy about this for a few reasons, mostly being that when I visit I can stay here, with my old roomies. I'll miss 'em, and it's really quite sad to think that after this year I'll probably never see them again. I mean, yeah, there are words exchanged sometimes, and promises to keep in touch. But life usually happens and everything gets swept away.

That's the thing about College. Meeting new people is always bitter-sweet, because it usually means you're doomed to repeat the vicious circle of losing friends, gaining friends. Hm. Maybe "losing" is not the right word. You get what I'm saying though, right?

I'm finishing this chapter of my life right now, and it's all such a mixture of sorrow/excitement. It's like finished a really fucking good book, you can't wait to get to the end. Once it's done, you're kind of depressed..but there's a sequel. And who knows, sometimes they're better than the previous.

I really do feel as though I'm treading water. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm not moving anywhere. But somehow, me being here in Calgary, or there in Saskatoon...makes it seem like two different worlds.

My dad made me a birthday CD (belated), and I recieved it in the mail the other day. He occassionally puts movie clips inbetween songs when they seem to fit, and he had a few on there from Garden State. One of them inparticular sort of hit a sore spot when Zach Braff was talking about his idea of home. It kind of chokes me up to know that once I left Denare Beach for University, everything changed. I mean, as much as you want that, it's kinda hard to deal with at the same time.

I'm really excited to have my own room once again. One in which I will be residing in for more than four month intervals. Who knows when this "move" and "room" will take place, but really. I know it's not too far away, so I'm okay with waiting.

I also REALLY can't wait to start dieting and exercising daily. It's just really hard when you're drinking and hungover all the time. And as much as that sounds like I'm the typical college student, I pretty much am. I mean, I sort of realized at this point that I'm tired of my weeks blurring together in a mixture of intoxication/illness/sleep. I feel like I haven't been myself in awhile.

My stress levels from Monday to now have decreased noticeably. It's really relieving, and the feeling in my stomach seems to have settled.

I talk to my parents pretty regularly on the phone, mostly because of my mother who insists she has two phone conversations a week with me, that go for at least thirty minutes each.

I recall last year, first semester, when she called me each and every day until I reached my breaking point. Eventually, after a month of about thirty-some phone calls, I told her that she couldn't keep this ridiculous regime going any longer. I had to practically limit her to a phone call a week.

Yet, this year, my third semester at school, I find I enjoy her calls. I like talking to my mother, whilst listening to my dog bark happily in the background. I even don't mind getting extremely frustrated at her, having my dad talk me down from my anxieties, just to have them brought back up as she takes the phone once again. I miss home, in a way. Not that I am "home sick", but hell. I'd like a visit every now and then.

Now. That being said, I'm really concerned about going back. As much as I'll enjoy the home-cooked meals, the frigid weather, and the whole surrounded by love and family scene...I'm really not prepared to stay there for longer than the Christmas "holidays".

Everytime my parents make mention to me being back for a "few months", I immediately correct them with "a couple of months". Or "one month". Fuck, can I really handle Flin Flon for a whole "semester"?

Whoa. I used a lot of fucking quotation marks in that last paragraph.

Anyways. Let's be positive here. I can't possibly be willing to spend over 60 days there..can I?

I am currently sitting at my computer desk, seven in the AM, as Tainchay clears her throat in hopes that it will clue me in to go to fucking sleep. Truth be told, now that I'm awake I can't see that happening until at least this afternoon.

I'm living on a week-to-week allowance that my parents have set up for me, which really sucks. On top of all this, I'm not doing that well in school and it doesn't seem to phase me. My only concerns are the pangs of guilt I recieve every now and again for taking so much of my parent's money.

I hate to say it, but I am slightly home sick.
Actually, homesick is the wrong description for how I feel about "back home", but regardless, I really fucking wanted to go home for Thanksgiving. Of course, me residing in Calgary never makes things easy, does it? Sigh. As much of an expensive burden it is though, I'm gonna miss this place.

I went through this "what the fuck am I doing" phase a few weeks ago. I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later, me being in College and all. I made the classic mistake of actually voicing my problems to people, thus making my situation somewhat worse. I just needed Cat to be there in the living room, at four in the morning when I can't get to sleep, so I can sit on the opposite couch and spew out words. Something about my peptic ulcers burning holes through my stomach. Hey, I've come a long way since crying whenever it rains.

I'm really into Sufjan Stevens lately, and was especially so at the beginning of the year. I think it started on the ride to Calgary, as I sat inbetween the door of my van and the actual seat. I was crammed right fucking in there, being that my grandmother, mother, and I were sharing a seat made for two. As extremely uncomfortable as it was, it was a good trip.

There's just something about packing up your life and moving it elsewhere that seems really satisfying.

Wow. For my first LJ post in a month and some odd days, this is really random. That's all I really have to say, other than my stress levels are at an all-time high. I'm usually not like this, and while I have anxiety over irrationals, I am rarely "stressed out". Let's just say I have a new found respect for my roomate last year, who practically ripped her hair out come exam time. I empathize.

Intriguing, sure. I don't know if that was taken as a compliment or not, but it should be.

I'm Calgary now, and it's much like I expected. Maybe not the exact same to a tee, but pretty damn close. Much binge drinking/going out. Fun, but also repetitive.
I can't really explain my mood whilst I'm in Calgary. For the most part, it's the same. This surreal and dream-like state constantly flowing throughout each blur of a day. Whether the days meld together due to alcohol consumption or over-sleeping, I'll never know.

I can tell already that I am obviously the messiest person in my unit. Am I surprised?? No. I'm just thankful that Paige (My neighbour roomie; share a bathroom) is the second messiest. We seem to get along just fine.

Paige.

The first roomie I met was Paige. We share a bathroom, as well as the same hallway/sink. Her bedsided dresser is chalked full of condoms.

It's her first year, and you can tell that right off the bat. I'm not trying to sound as if I'm obviously the mature one of the group, because we all know different. She is just so wide-eyed and crazy. I love that about her, and could tell right away that we'd get along.
She recently turned 18 and is kinda ready to take advantage of that. I envy her in a way, because I wish the whole college situation was that new and exciting again.

Ashley.

Ahsley is 22, and from Wisconsin. She is a tiny brunette. Why this is relevant, who knows? I guess because that gives you a visual when I tell you that she is a real innocent.
She has a Wisconsin accent (Wiscansin, as she'd say), and covers her mouth in shock alot. She doesn't discuss sex and rarely uses curse words. It's funny, because whenever she does say something slightly vulgar, you kind of do a double-take in her direction.
She already has the boys lined up around the block.

Chelsey.

Chelsey was the last roomie I was introduced to. She's super nice, and the only one in our apt. with a boyfriend. I probably know her the least well, of the three, because she lives in Calgary and ocassionally goes home or out with her bf.
I have to admit though, there's something a little off. It's not terrible, just a little weird. The way she jokes around, maybe I'm sensing a dash of honesty in her voice. Regardless, I can't quite put my finger on what it is, and don't know if I will ever.


I figure I lucked out. No anal-retentive roomies this year, and for that I am thankful. Then again, no Carolyns this year either..which makes me extremely sad. I'll be forever grateful for my very first roommate.
I'm attempting to show everyone around campus a bit, and give them bus information, etc. I realize I won't be as helpful as Carolyn was for me, but I can try, right??

So.. I'm leaving in five hours.

The excitement has kinda worn off. I mean, I want it to be over and done with. I want me to be settled, unpacked, and back in the groove (for lack of a better description of the "College life"), once again.

I'm tired of thinking about it. I'm tired of talking about it. I'm indecisive, I'm all over the place. It's the worst I've been, thus far.

I just figure I've been happy with my decisions in the past, and there's no reason why I should doubt things won't pan out. I guess it all depends on my attitude towards all the new things that are being thrown my way.

Anyways, I don't really have much to say. I kind of regret not hanging out with my friends more this Summer. I know they understood that I was drained alot of the time, and I don't know whether that makes it better or worse.
I didn't call Aundrea to say goodbye. I hung out with Kim briefly last night, but we didn't really get much accomplished. We didn't go for our usual drive to the beach, and just sit in the car and talk. Erin called too, and I politely declined her invitation to go out.

I kind of feel like I'm trekking through this huge obstacle course, but for what? I'm tired, and I'm just waiting for this fucking prize at the end. I'm hoping that when I reach Calgary, I will feel a bit more...satisfied with day-to-day life.

And I think I will be, for the most part.

Last night was one of my last days with Kenton and Cat for a while. And despite my nausea and lack of sleep, it was definitely worth it.

The series of events that followed began when the pair showed up at my work with a surprise. Kenton pulled a mickey of Wisers out of his pocket and gave me a foolish grin. We had been making a loose plan to drink this weekend, because Kenton is finally done work, and they'll be leaving on Monday.
I made them stay with me until closing time, so I didn't have to sit alone for another half hour. We just sort of goofed around, I hugged the Cigar Store Indian, and Kenton and Cat pointed out various places on a map of the world.
My parents were out for the night so we called Mant over. We started out with a drinking game (Fuck the Dealer, if anyone knows it), and went from there. I must say, I kind of doubted how drunk I would actually get, but I needn't have worried about it. After one game we were all pretty tipsy, and Mant was eager to play another.
We brought out the camera and snapped a few pictures, one of which involved Cat, a zucchini, and Kenton's mouth. We all would grab a random object in the room, or yell out a random action that would result in a crazy photo. We stopped taking pictures shortly after Cat yelled "Pretend to fuck Dusty!" Everyone just sort of looked at eachother and blinked for a few moments, and I was on the ground, doubling over from laughter.

After successfully getting drunk, we noticed the time. It was getting later by the minute (haha, literally) and my parents would be coming home soon. We decided to relocate to Mant's cabin.

It was then that someone had the bright idea (probably Kenton) to ride the bike over. I kept insisting that I could double on a bike, so me and Mant had many failed attempts. This now seems stupid to me, because I could barely control the bike with only myself on it, let alone another person. Anyways, I ended up veering off to the side and wiping out on the pavement. We all thought it was so funny that Mant got hurt, his leg and arm were scraped and bleeding. Now I just kinda feel guilty about it.
My legs are bruised now, and as I sat down in this chair, I discovered the bike seat did quite a number on my pelvic bone. And not in a good way.

For some reason, we ended up taking a detour and going past the Alpine convenience store. I don't think it was open at the time, because me and Kenton ended up peeing behind it. Why Cat took a few pictures of me while I was urinating, I'll never know. Pervert.

We arrived at the cabin (finally), and Mant's mom phoned. I don't really remember what he said to her, and actually, he probably doesn't either.

While outside, we could hear there were people drinking next door, sitting around a bonfire. It was a little bit of a walk, through the bush and over the fence. I went over, bare foot might I add, and sat in an empty lawn chair that they had put out. This is probably the haziest part of the night, but I do know I stayed and talked for a bit because some guy offered me a beer, and I took it. Kenton joined in, and then we both left after a short time because Cat kept yelling somewhere from the bush; "Kenton? Rhiannon? Where are you?? I'm scared."

I figure I was still a little out of it as I got up this morning, because I opened the front door thinking it was the bedroom from where I had just came. I was kind of confused as to why I would lock it, and then realized I had opened the outside door and was staring at the lawn.

Yeah, Kenton and Mant are both really sick, and my non-existant baby probably has Fetal Alcohol, but it was quite the night. And I must say, work seems to go a lot faster when you're still a little drunk.