crossing fingers.

I just sent in my resume to be a promotions coordinator; assuming it means public speaking/promoting for events.

thought I would test my luck, but I realized that I really need to get my foot in the door for this stuff.


wish me luck!

ps. none stop on the tequila train with the new room mate was a great kick off to this new life.

the infamous peacock.

I found it; exactly. and it's in black in white which was preferred.

tattoo project number 4.
location: middle of the back.


ya dig?

ragoo

" I got a flask inside my pocket we can share it on the plane. If you promise to stay conscious I will try and do the same."

shit.

I took the bus for the first time in five years. standing in the cold never felt so liberating. sort of like my situation; i left "prematurely". what does that word even mean?
I'm addicted to tattoos; legitimately- 3 in 3 weeks, jeeze.

my apartment smells like freedom and studio cigarettes.
maudis criss!

"I just up and left."

today I learned the importance of freedom.

I learned that I have to right to make my own decisions; that I can no longer be threatened by financial support. I realized that in the end; everything will turn out just fine. This is because I am not immoral, i am not irresponsible (well not any more then the average person). I have been shoving my head into text books to please and not because it's actually what i want to do. this has nothing to do with love, or rebellion. This has to do with proving to you that I am my own person regardless of money. I'd rather have my choices be the reason my life is difficult then it be because you threatened to do so and so you're simply following through. I am so ready so suffer my consequences.
This hasn't felt right to me since day one and my eyes finally feel more open then ever.

I picked myself up; I said no more; I'm taking matters into my own hands.
If I fall, I fall. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong and that's the beauty of it all. Because no matter what happens, I'll still be breathing.

battle suits on; this is going to be a riot.

day3

she had diamonds on the inside, she wore diamonds on the inside. flowing in and around my head. the state of being completely and fully content is starting to rupture itself back into my system; it's fantastic. the artificially induced hue glaring over the many extravagant roof tops still blows my mind. I wonder what it's like living as a Stepford wife? floral printed aprons and roast dinners every sunday night; surreal. how do people go about living in these conditions? with perfectly paved roads and artistic front yards with their quaint porches and "lucky" dog houses. I took a moment to replenish my system with canada's favorite source of energy. the off beige uniform fully equipped with the golf visor, he kindly didn't charge me for my poison, all because I told him to take his time when he politely asked me to give him a few. funny how simplicity and patience is taken for granted by the majority of the human race in our first world countries. my soloness continues as I decide to indulge in our city's live music; tonights choice was the blues. she was about 60 years old and rocked her gibson super hard. I only stayed long enough to finish my veno.
I am fully aware that tonight is not apart of my recovery; but if you were me, you'd understand that I don't just sleep for days on end. I would blow up; for real: into a million pieces of jingle filled, multicolored confetti. It would look nice, but then it's purpose is suddenly over. I'm not ready to put mine on hold.

I'll be back on my tracks next week; should I be? probably not; but, ah geez. whatever.

day2

I could hear myself speak in my sleep last night. Codine is my new best friend; careful,careful, I know. It feels like this shouldn't be phasing me like it has, but I can't seem to stop crying. One minute I'm laughing at some quirky joke from a romantic comedy, the next I'm balling my eyes out; I don't get it.
I can't seem to flood over the image of me progressively getting larger and uglier as my body tangles itself into my bed sheets. my appetite doesn't seem to go away, I don't think I could even eat myself to death if I tried; It constantly feels empty. I get exhausted walking up a flight of stairs (even more so then when cigarettes were an influence,) but I can't seem to sleep. I'm restless; I could lay in bed all day and not get a wink of sleep and when I do? I don't feel rested.
I think my biggest problem is I'm scared, and probably more then I should be.
I've never broken a bone, I've had the flu maybe three times in my life; I've never really experienced any kind of excruciating physical pain, like, the kind where you wish someone would put you out of your misery. So this whole non curable virus thing takes my roller coaster off it's tracks a bit. I don't feel like myself, and I'm worried as to how long something like this will last. I read that the symptoms only last about 2-4 weeks, but that people feel weak and fatigued for months after. I don't want that, at all. I like being a busy body. I like moving about and seeing people and working and even finding ways to procrastinate my academics; that's what makes me, me. And the thought that it's going to be altered is terrifying. I don't want people to pity me, to watch out for me because I'm suddenly weak and unauthorized to be my energetic self. I may be blowing this all out of proportion, but that's exactly my point.
This cave, these sheets, this computer screen I'm forced to be surrounded by gets my mind all tweaking and buzzing and I don't have my usual habits to balance it out.

okay. I guess I should just be thankful I'm not dying.

partial cure:

my laptop will be my new best friend for the next two weeks;
But these two pieces of art for females will forever remain as the only two to successfully make me feel better; this shit better not last.

thank you alexa for putting these up; and god speed.
ps. I finally watched "Away We Go": it was exactly how I expected it to be, flawless soundtrack and all.

the kissing disease.

mon⋅o⋅nu⋅cle⋅o⋅sis 
/ˌmɒnəˌnukliˈoʊsɪs, -ˌnyu-/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [mon-uh-noo-klee-oh-sis, -nyoo-]
–noun
The presence of an abnormally large number of mononuclear leukocytes, or monocytes, in the blood.
Fever, swollen lymph nodes, flu and step throat can also be commonly mistaken for mononucleosis.

there is no cure.

So although I spent a good portion of my weekend sick as a dog with the boy, at least we were both partially dying.

boy diagnosis: chest cold: running nose, pressured sinuses, head aches, coughing.
girl diagnosis:
a) strep throat: swollen glands, fever, really nasty looking tonsils, the most uncomfortable agonizing pain you'll ever experience; followed by trouble swallowing, breathing, speaking, sleeping and moving anything neck up.
b) failure in medication: the doctor I went to see with the lazy eye, undersized polo T and partially ripped levis prescribed me a medication that was totally ineffective. gee, thanks.
c) hospitalization: muscle pain, and even worse glandular throat pains; a visit to the steinbach hospital is enforced.
d) mono: a non treatable virus that causes prolonged fatigue and muscle weakness. immune system is down.

this would be my weekend in a nutshell. pretty awesome right?

I had a nightmare I was bed ridden for three months; i lost my job, i lost contact with my friends, i lost my boyfriend and I was set back a year with school. this was not a good start to my recovery.

on the plus side,

"I talked to a lot of people that night; talking to you was the best part."