Wednesday, June 11, 2008


You know, I tried to hold out on writing a post simply because life has been the fucking shits and I’m using whatever energy I have left to not pack my bags and flee to somewhere warm like New Zealand. But right now, I don’t care. My blog, my rant and if people don’t want to read a foul mouthed person, then don’t read it. I AM WOMAN, HEAR ME ROAR.

Where to start... Oh yeah, how about May Long camping? Bullshit is what it was.

Our escape from the city to a place where there were no televisions, no phones and no computers turned out to be a fucking rave party of some goddamn sort. I knew there would be partiers, but are you serious? We had two groups beside us playing their lame trance crap until six-in-the-goddamn-motherfucking-morning. I shit you not.

And then, coming back home, made me realize even more how badly I’ve been feeling like shit. It was at that point that I fully understood Talking Shit About a Pretty Sunset by Modest Mouse.

I’ve been feeling like there’s something missing in my life. Don’t get me wrong, I do have wonderful friends and a wonderful fiance... but... something just isn’t right.

I’ve never been one to want to travel the world, but lately I feel like I’ve missed out on some glorious places and people. Most people would think, “Just go out and travel!” but it’s never that simple. It’s called a fucking stable job and a mortgage. Maybe it’s just because I miss my sister so much, who’s currently traveling Italy. Again. For the second time. Ugh.

Oh and about this job? You know, it’s not pleasant having to wake up every damn day feeling like you’re living a lie. Dead serious. I feel like I’m living a lie. The business world is not me. A desk-job, office life is not me. The attitude these people have is not me. THESE FUCKING CLOTHES I’M WEARING IS NOT FUCKING ME. The fact that I can’t wear skirts to work because of the tattoos I have and the fact that I have to now remove certain piercings (eyebrows, earrings, etc.) is not me.

But then what the fuck is me? Over the last decade, I have been one of the unfortunate people who’s had their creativity and ambitions crushed by depression. I envy those whose mind is only fuelled by their depression to the point that they are able to come up with creative works of art. I’ve lost myself over 12 years ago, and I’m not entirely sure who I am. So how the hell am I supposed to figure out what I want to do? I’m only bringing myself further down by working in this career.

But maybe all this is brought by the shitty weather we’ve been having. It has been raining non-effin-stop, and the moment the sun shines through the clouds it goes back into hiding and it starts pouring again. And this has been going on for weeks. FOR WEEKS. I CAN ONLY HANDLE SO MUCH FUCKING PISS FROM THE SKY.

Seriously. I received that in an email this morning. It isn’t a lie.

Now, let’s get into my issues my body is going through from all this crap. I’m not sleeping well so I’m always tired. I’m beyond irritable and on edge. I’m lacking an appetite. I’ve got the runs. Oh, and occasionally my eye will start twitching like a lunatic who just got sprayed in the eye with lemon juice.

I’m too exhausted, mentally and physically. I’m feeling like a lost child in a massive department store crying for help but there’s no one around to hear the cries because it’s after store hours and I got locked in.

Yeah, that’s right, locked in.

God, I’m losing my mind. I need to figure things out, but I need to figure out where to start.

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