Despite opinions to the contrary, I do not feel even remotely brave laying on this bed in my relatives' house where I've been holed up for the past two days. While I have met some of my goals for this move out east, I generally feel fed up and demoralized with the whole process. I haven't worked in two and half months and while there's no monetary urgency to find employment, I have far too much time on my hands. In the past when I had but a fraction of my day unscheduled, leisure time was like gold and I would spend it accordingly. This summer's lack of regimen has produced nothing but fool's gold, mostly in the form of far too much you tube - six seasons of Golden Girls in a month; three seasons of Britain's Next Top Model in 5 days. My sense of adventure has completely waned along with my social life, to the point where I've even stopped going to the Y, justifying this in my head with thoughts that I'll soon be two doors down from my new building's fitness room. This apathy really began with the funk that occurred after June's serendipitous meeting, but unlike my desire for physical prowess, it has stuck around for going on two months now. There have been some truly great times in there, such as my final week with Chai (a 3 hankie affair), my parents' brief but timely visit this week and my newfound addiction to IKEA. Still, my funk (yes, I'm claiming ownership) has produced some truly weird moments.
With all this free time I even stopped blogging, partially because there's not a whole lot to say, but mostly because I spend so much time with my own thoughts that their publication seems unnecessary. 5 possible unrealized subjects:
-My mother's discovery of text messaging and unfortunate accompanied discovery of my generations cellular spelling: "Wood u take fin out 2nite."
I had to explain to the woman that the director of education at the MB Law Society could afford the 4 or 5 extra characters necessary to make adult sentences. Granted, I also had to explain that there was more punctuation available then just periods.
-The random conversations I've been having with strangers while I've been here. I went on an interview to do subscription sales for the TSO and while waiting I had this really cool conversation with this chick about sexuality in art, municipal pride and race post Obama. I didn't get the job so I'll never see her again, but it was oddly motivating.
-My intense dream about and consequent desire to see the jerk from last June. And October. And January. As cathartic as my reunion dreams can be, they usually force me in love with the person for a 48 hour period that leads to rather awful thoughts, if not actions. I later feel disgust for these feelings, almost like a bad emotional one night stand, but when faced with a reality, subconscious as it was, that brought true happiness at the end of a rather brutal conscious past, it's understandable that these thoughts would occur.
-How saying goodbye to you for the second was inconceivably worse than the first time. Who knew? Honestly, it was the only one that actually made me sad.
-How despite a two month absence, I seriously have nothing to blog about. Sorry. I'll try harder.