With this new blog, I’ve been trying to write on a regular basis, but I’ve been pretty busy. Here’s the twist: I’ve been busy at nothing. I guess that’s sort of an oxymoron, but it seems to fit my current situation. When I think of the word busy, it has this meaningful connotation to it. Like being busy should entail a specific and tangible output. From my perspective, it doesn’t seem to be the case.

Of course, this isn’t true so much as it is a byproduct of working and schooling nonstop towards a goal that I couldn’t even really conceptualize. And now that I’m done, and I’m working full time (I guess) at a job that is tiding me over for the time being, but leaves me lacking any distinct sense of purpose, I feel like I’m in this bizarre limbo.

When I say “it isn’t true”, I recognize of course that in this period, I’m at least able to spend more time with friends and family. I’ve been able to go apple picking, and bake and apply for jobs -although this too seems to be without much of a point, considering I haven’t been hired yet!).

I’ve been reading too. Quite a bit. Recently: Paula Todd’s A Quiet Courage, and I’m going to read Secret Between Us by Daniel Poloquin, but not before I’ve finished Kurt Vonnegut’s Armageddon in Retrospect which is wonderful in its own right. I particularly like this quote:

“And how should we behave during this Apocalypse? We should be unusually kind to one another, certainly. But we should also stop being so serious. Jokes help a lot. And get a dog, if you don’t already have one.”

Even Vonnegut agrees with me.

Good things as of late:
1) Spam blocker installed. No more deleting 400 comments.
2) Finally got my Macleans subscription (months later).
3) Sound of Music last night was spectacular.
4) Booked for Mexico & 2 months from now, we’ll be in paradise!

I have an embarrassingly large collection of cards. Thank you cards, birthday cards, Christmas cards… This picture doesn’t do justice to the extent of my hoarding. They take up a large percentage of “Memories” in my filing bin, but I can’t bring myself to cut down on the ones that I have.

I know that most people tend to keep cards for a couple of days – one week maximum, then throw them out. I am not one of those people. This is infuriating for the people who know me, and especially for those who can’t relate. I don’t consider myself a packrat, but R., who doesn’t keep much, thinks this is insane.

I had a fairly brutal interview today. It was a position for a broadcast associate, and afterwards, they gave me a 3 page quiz on Canadian history, politics and business. Not fun. Have you ever seen Reality Bites? There’s this great montage of Lelaina being interviewed and walked out of a series of offices. One of her interviewers asks her to define irony, and she stumbles painfully in nervousness at the complete randomness of the question.

Well that was me today. And it’s FAR more painful than it looks on screen.

I got home, and -true to form -watched Reality Bites while eating cookies topped with coolwhip, until I realized… I am one drug addiction and (potentially) one psychic-phone call away from hitting rock bottom a-la Lelaina.

So I got up, cleaned my room and filed some cards, and was actually thankful to have kept all the notes that people have sent me over the years. Sometimes they’re nice to have when I desperately need a reminder that life isn’t as cruel as it seems.

I found this picture when I was doing research for my thesis. As soon as I saw it, I found such enormous virtue in its vintage kitsch-like design, that I immediately saved it from whatever database I was using.

Ironically, now that I’m done with the academic world, this poster reminds me of everything I love about school. It’s easy to sit back and be told what to do, without really feeling accountable for the outcome. Your day is outlined, and things are planned. It’s comforting in that sense. And as much as I never want to go back to school again, I am really mourning the lack of routine.

R. and I have started going to the gym in the mornings, and I’m jealous of the people I can see heading to their office. I sulk a bit, and talk about how lucky the people are to have jobs. Sometimes R laughs, but as I keep doing it, I’m sure he thinks that I’m officially losing my mind.