Drank (is this a problem that it’s a daily thing?), worked (not after drinking, before), hit the bank, the Wine Rack (the store, not MY wine rack), napped and ostensibly wasted the night. The last few nights available for wasting are upon me; school starts in two weeks.
Turned 24, worked, got drunk and absolutely stuffed with appetizers and fish and chips, watched the last episode of X-Files, contemplated and reflected on the first half of my life (I’m out of here at 50, max).
Packed, wrote, got the day off work, cleaned, watched AVGN, got accidentally drunk, lived, slept.
Everyone in my generation should be reading Fight Club. We’re not going to be millionaires; deal with it. The world isn’t going to hand us thousands of dollars for posting on Tumblr and being angsty about how terrible the workforce is. There are people living on a cup of rice a month and some of us are crying because we’re 23 and don’t have a 50K salary. We have to ask ourselves: have we actually done ANYTHING to deserve more than minimum wage, or have we just done the minimum for a wage? Money got you down? Then stop caring about money. If you are reading this, you have enough money for a computer and internet, which means you have enough money for food, water, and shelter, which means you have nothing to complain about. Stop caring about financial progress and go back to being a human, you know, being an artist even if you starve, picking up a pen instead of an excuse, actually breaking your back and putting REAL work into your life. For every five minutes that we surf Twitter, we blow an opportunity to make a poem or a painting or a drawing or ANYTHING other than a complaint. Money…what is money? An excuse to cry. Live with your parents? Stop being ashamed and start caring more about your family instead of being so sad that you’re not rich enough to move away from them. Love your friends instead of your iPods, write letters instead of texting…you remember how to write, right? Remember envelopes? Remember humanity? That was a fun thing we had before we let capitalism, greed, envy, sloth, vanity, pride, and lust ruin our functionality and degrade our interior to husks of what once was.
That being said, yesterday I cut through my pile of notes, ideas, and inspirational thoughts to create a lot of new material for the blogs. Packed up some of my random breakables, napped, then banged out five hours at the hut-du-wage. Got way, way too worked up over people who needlessly and uselessly complain their lives away instead of working to change the world, and my ire kept me up all night tweaking my blogs and engaging in heavy conversations with other nighthawks.
Smashed through half of my inspiration/note pile after breakfast, sick of the lack of work and progress I achieved in the last few days. Took a breather by checking out the tail end of Buskerfest, the local festival that drew crowds to see whip masters, sword swallowers, break dancers, and a terrible mime. The food at the carnival, however, was excellent. Slipped a nap between the outdoor escapade and my cheffing of a few sausages and vegetables for dinner, and closed the night with several attempts at sleep before achieving snooze.
Day 130. Finalized my article for Incite Magazine. Tried to relax before my shift at noon, but the job had already ruined my day. So many psychotic peasants came into the store that I couldn’t believe my existence was real. At least grad school starts in three weeks and I can begin to remold my life as it should be.
Blasted seven hours at work before hitting the bar for a few steins and a couple of plates of appetizers. Checked out the madness of Buskerfest in Mississauga from the ground level and later at my apartment balcony. Nothing too wild, I skipped working on some articles and poetry and was also too lit to pick up a pen.
Quick morning shift that included me getting appointed Health and Safety Inspector at the BB. There’s no extra pay, but I do get to tell my bosses everything I think is wrong with the store. If they don’t comply to my suggested changes then OOPS I don’t sign off and we have a problem. After that I came home and did things I can’t remember…except that I was really feeling my depression and anxiety, so I ordered Pizza Pizza pizza and watched Dead Silence, a horror movie from 1997 with Donnie Wahlburg.
Day 127. Got called into work early; extra hours is never a problem. Blasted through the shift and blew the night on Youtube. It was a “one of those days” day, one of those “end of summer” days where nothing gets done because I have to catch up on all the goofing off I should have done all summer.
Bopped into Hamilton to meet a good friend, the last time I will see her until she returns from Korea next year. We had some eats, got offered a game of Battleship by the waitress (I don’t think we looked THAT bored), checked out the Hamiltonians in action. I spent the rest of the day goofing off and reading a new Get Fuzzy treasury. Tried to write a few posts on WordPress, except the updated “new post” function is such a raging mess that I’m actually shocked.