Life and Love
Sometimes I look at my Instagram feed and think "hey my life looks pretty cool". I do have a very good life. It's small but nearly everything is exactly what I want. I'm in a respectful and loving relationship. I have gotten pretty good at balancing my lack of maternal-ness and having two kids in my life. My dog is awesome. Except right now, he's sick and keeps shitting on the carpet. But that's not his fault, poor dude.*
After the disappointment of not getting the job at the college's international office I decided to just go for it and apply for everything I was qualified for, both at the college and at the university as well. You know, even the dishwashers in the cafeteria at UVic get paid nineteen dollars an hour. Cashiers, even more. I applied for thirteen positions in one day and ... haven't heard back from a single goddamn one of them. A woman I work with at the college bookstore told me the lady in charge of UVic's cafeteria always ends up hiring her son's friends which is total bullshit...but that's really what I'm finding with these places. And life in general. It's who you know. It's always who you know.
And I don't know anybody!
Well that's not exactly true. I could probably work in almost any tattoo shop I wanted. But ... you know. I'm already in the best case scenario in that world, I think.
I have been given a few training shifts over the next few weeks at the bookstore. They want me adept at taking tuition payments and motorcycle parking payments and all the various fees college kids have to pay...criminal record checks were very hot last time I was working. I don't know what the hell kind of class makes you get one of those ... but anyway it's fun to be given more responsibility (and more pay). I think they're gearing up for the coming rush in September, they're going to hire more casual workers and I get to be the old salt this time. The one who knows how to rent out lockers and look stuff up in the computer. How exciting.
Sometimes I look at my own Instagram feed and think "hey my life looks pretty sad and small". I actually decided to photograph more of me at the bus stops and on buses because it feels more real than just showing the most interesting moments. No idea why it's important for me to represent myself realistically on a microblog but I feel like a fraud if I put too many "cool" things in a row. I spend between ten and fifteen hours a week on and around the bus (and another five or so waiting at and walking to and from bus stops). I am definitely not very cool.
I have to plan my wardrobe around not only where I'm going and what I'm going to be doing, but also the fact that I have to walk a few kilometers in whatever the weather is and be surrounded by weirdos and opinionated idiots. Not to mentions hobos who pick cans out of the bus stop garbage cans and then carry dirty grocery bags of them onto the bus, sick people, loud people, white middle class teenage "gangsters", and all types of mentally disabled people, both the overly-friendly type and the terrifying type. I have to dress as to not attract attention to myself, comfortable and sturdy enough to walk in without sweating too much on the hot days, and I usually try not be too offensive to all the old people and babies everywhere. Imagine if I had a car? I could wear, I don't know, girly (unscuffed) shoes maybe! Or a tank top! Or have nice hair when it's raining outside. Or have more time to do my makeup or whatever. Ah the possibilities.
The other day on the bus it felt like I was in a scene in a movie where the director was trying to show the audience just how shitty riding the bus can be. I walked on and as I was heading down the aisle to the back, where there was but one open seat, a sharp-featured crackhead lady with wild un-brushed hair and a loud husky smoker's voice literally grabbed my leg just below the knee and yelled "CUTE". I was wearing leggings with smiley faces on them...the opposite of my face at that point.
I shook free and sat in the lone free seat between a woman who sounded like she was dying of bronchitis and a very old man who was frantically shaking his leg and rubbing his hands together while rocking back and forth. Actually forget my last simile, the bus felt like a scene in a movie where a sane person gets put into a scary mental ward in a hospital, the lights are flickering and they have no escape and every person is hollow-eyed and moaning.
I sat very still, eyes forward, holding my breath and turning my head slightly to the left whenever the woman inhaled sharply, I did not want to catch whatever it was she was coughing out. It...was gross.
Health and Well-Being
Health-wise I think I'm doing better. It's weird how mysterious the human guts can be. I don't really know what's going on in there. Sometimes I feel a burning in one of various places around my abdomen but nothing's felt like a heart attack since I started my anti-depressants. It's a huge relief that it's nothing life-threatening as far as all the tests showed. You have to put faith in"the tests"... part of me still doesn't really trust that they looked enough, that they didn't miss something.
But then again I'm getting better so maybe it's exactly as they say. I do definitely know that the anti-anxiety stuff is helping. But again, I still have total moments of panic. Less often and less severe but they are there. I ended up taking my first ativan the other day because I was getting the I-can't-breathe feeling on the bus. I popped the tiny pill under my tongue and felt it dissolve. I didn't know what I was supposed to do, do you swallow the little sugary dissolved grainy bits or try your best to hold them under the tongue? I held it there.
I felt like nothing happened. The panic subsided and I got off the bus and went home, and told Ryan I took one so if I was being weird that's why. He said he didn't notice anything.
About half an hour later it hit me hard. The bottle says "may cause drowsiness" but that is an understatement. I barely remember that entire evening. And I was sooooo sleepy. Those little pills are no joke.
Having known way more than my share of drug addicts I was actually pretty nervous when the doctor prescribed me something that can become physically addictive, but after taking one I am relieved to note that there is no way I can function normally on them. Does that make sense? I have just seen too many people try a drug and suddenly lose everything. I'm not one to take something that's going to affect my normal life negatively so I feel like there's no risk in me becoming addicted.
So that's a bingo.
I am really having fun painting weird stupid shit. I'm still like a level A-1 beginner and I won't pretend for a second that I actually DREW any of these things, I mainly traced them out of tattoo books and children's learn-to-draw books. My painting "technique" is sloppy and I have no idea what I'm doing. But it's fun. So who cares?
I've been trying to read the book Worst Person Ever by Douglas Copeland and am so disappointed with it. I might have to quit. It takes a lot to make me quit a book but it's so ... meh. I'll keep you all updated in my "reading" section as to whether or not I made it through to the other side.
I'm still trying to save up to buy a new camera. I am aiming to not spend over $500, which I think is do-able. I had nearly that much saved but our septic pump shorted out, the tank filled with rain water and nearly flooded, and we had to get all new electrical, a new pump, and a new lid on top of it all. So that ... it's gonna take me a few months to pay off my half of it, that's for sure. That stuff is not cheap.
Anyway it was only a 2.7 or something, but it was the first one I've ever really felt here in Victoria.
*In case anybody's worried about Tank I did call the vet and they have us fasting him and giving him pepto bismol today, and trying the white rice thing tomorrow. We're being safe, and he's acting totally normal other than all the poop, so don't worry!