Warning: Rant

So I'm back from my weekend in Montreal, and I am exhausted. Wow. No doubt you're thinking "There's a surprise. She's tired AGAIN." Not again. Still. I don't think I'm ever not tired. True, the turkey enzyme is coursing through my veins, desperately trying to knock me out, as turkey enzymes are wont to do. My sister's friends had us over for Easter dinner, and it was really nice, because there are times when I really miss my family (my parents especially) and holidays that include big holiday dinners are among those times. I'm mostly worn out because I was up until 4 o'clock on Saturday night after hitting various bars in Montreal with Michele. More on this later. You'd think after having all that fun (which I really did), I would come home vimmed and invigorated (or full of piss and vinegar, take your pick). Instead, I came home and started to bawl my eyes out.

I can't take it anymore.

No, I don't have a million kids ( or even one) to look after. No, I don't have any sort of disabilities that prevent me from doing things the way everyone else does. But I'm broke, I'm away from my family, I don't see my friends much anymore, I don't have any money, I have a job that I'm seriously overqualified for and is grating on my nerves, and I have a roommate who doesn't seem very interested in helping me clean anything, I have no money (oh yeah, it looks like I already said that), I don't have enough time to do all the things that NEED to get done, so I look like shit, my place looks like shit, I feel like shit, I get all wonky and depressed and freak out on my boyfriend, and I'm worried that if I continue to get freaked out like this, he's going to leave me and I'll be even more depressed and then where will I be??

There's not enough hours in the day to get everything done.

I am sick sick sick sick sick of going to work everyday at a job that I can do well, but can do so much better than.

Being more broke now than when I was a student is depressing.

I'm tired ALL the time.

I feel like I'm being pulled in different directions constantly and I don't know if I can take it anymore. I don't want to feel like I'm disappointing people but I always feel like I do.

Am I just PMS? Overtired? Is it wrong to want to have the time to sit and read a book without thinking of the million and one fucking other things that need to get done? Is it too much to ask?

Weekend away

I'm heading to Montreal today to visit my old roommate. I CAN'T wait. I need the break from work (for certain) and I need some time with Michele, and although I'm going to miss Paul like crazy, I think it will be good for us to spend a weekend doing something different. He's gone to Calgary to visit his best friend, do some fishing in the Bow River (my guy is soooo typical boy in a lot of ways, it's hilarious!). Anyway, it's the longest we've ever gone without seeing or talking to teach other since we started dating - almost 3 months ago, might I add! - but we'll both be busy. It's okay, I get to shop.

Yes, I know. I'm starting (starting?) to sound like one of those annoying coupled up people who can't talk about anything but her man. Well screw that! I am having so much fun being in love and enjoying getting to know this amazing man and if I annoy other people because of us, well, that's too bad. I've had to deal with my share of listening to people gush, so damnit, I'm gonna gush about him as much as I want! :P I'm being so obnoxious. But I do worry that I talk about him too much, that's where this stems from.

When I get back I'll have lots of fun stuff to write about from my visit to MTL. Happy Easter weekend everybody!

It's been a while...

I've been crazy busy over the last few weeks and haven't had time to blog. Helping my boyfriend paint his living room/dining room, working, preparing for his birthday on Saturday, working, spending time with my boyfriend, working...you get the idea. Oh, I did manage to go out for cake with Amy and Lana on Thursday night, which was fun and should be done far more often! Met many of P's friends for the first time, which was a little scary, but I have to say, his friends are really really great. So friendly, and welcoming, which is really nice. Some of them are considerably older than me (as is P) so it was kinda weird, but luckily, Amy and her friend Jen were there for support. I apparently got the approval from a few of them (whew!) so it's good. Not thatwe need it, but it's definitely nice.

Speaking of giving approval, I had a conversation with my friend, briefly, that was started because she emailed me expressing her concern over our drifting apart. FINALLY! She knew it was happening too, it wasn't just me, and we are going to talk about it, but she told me she missed me and wanted us to hang out more, and I feel very relieved that neither of us want to see our friendship of so many years go down the tubes. Anyway - I'm sure I'll post more about it later. For now, it's to bed I go. This weekend took a lot out of me.

I intend to write more about my ideas of love, and how I've viewed it in the past, and how I view it now, but first I have to write about the antithesis of love: fucking asshole customers.

Yesterday I came home and ranted for hours to my poor boy about how horrible people can be and how much I hated my job because I had to be spoken down to by rude, old, assholic jerky customers who think it's okay to condescend to the shopgirl because they can!!

I misunderstood what some European man said in response to me asking if he needed any help and he went off on me like I had 8 heads. It's not so much what he said, as how he said it. I felt about two inches tall. I apologized, turned on my heel, and muttered "fuck you" under my breath and hid out in the basement, taking out my aggression on the cardboard boxes that needed to go out. Being overly tired, and somewhat sensitive these days, I thought that perhaps I had overreacted, but no, a coworker and another customer had overhead the exchange and were absolutely shocked and appalled at his behaviour. Score one for me. Stupid jerk. Karma'll get him, I hope.

Where is the love?