image borrowed from here  (i heart me some lichtenstein.)

it's funny cos it's truei’ve been quiet lately, and i’m sorry. i am positively drowning in my life right now. school ends in 2 exact weeks – and by that i mean that’s when my last exam is – and right now i have a shakespeare paper that is exactly 3 weeks overdue today; a 15 page research paper; a poetry workshop; two portfolios; and that exam to complete. IN TWO WEEKS.

my dog caught the kennel cough that was making the rounds at the spca when i adopted her – so i’ve been up to me knees, (almost figuratively) in puddles of dog diarrhea. she’s going to the vet’s tomorrow. she is very sad, and looks at me with these hang-dog eyes and sad tail whenever she leaves me a mess to clean up. she’s also been puking, and of course, coughing. fun sickness, this is.

i got a registered note in the mail from my landlord’s asking me if i wanted to renew the lease. they’re going to raise my rent another $20 a month. i love it here, but when i think that i could be living in (yes, the neighbourhood that nobody wants to live in, but still) a 5 1/2 in verdun (that’s 3 bedroom, in montrealais) instead of the 3 1/2 that i live in here for about $200 less – and there would be a backyard and everything – i think i’m moving.

the only reason i moved here anyway was because field asked me to, and quite frankly, as lovely as he is, (and he is damned lovely) i feel sort of chumpy when i think to myself, “you know, didn’t you think you’d be moving in with each other this year? and now where are you?” besides, he never visits anymore. (well, granted, i don’t let him at the moment, but i would if it was clean.) 
i feel like the only reason i’m staying is out of some misguided subconscious hope that we’ll get back together, which i know is not what either of us really truly wants, regardless of how much my lonely-girl is yapping right now.

bills. working a job that i don’t wanna. not doing art. not drinking, which can kill off any semblance of a social life when you live in drinky-city.

my apartment? if i was to snap some digital photographs right now everyone would be HORRIFIED. i don’t even know where or how to start cleaning up. i’d hire somebody to do it, but let’s face it, i don’t want ANYBODY to know that i can live like this. i sometimes wish that i was the kind of depressive who got extremely energetic in her ‘down’ state – like my friend bob, who obsessively cleaned his apartment with a toothbrush when he got sad. 
edited to add, only a short few minutes later: i’m just exhausted. you know? to the bone, i’m shaking with it, delirium-inducing tired. i have been for months, if not years (i keep forgetting i only gave myself 2 days to get over that mental breakdown i had in november) and i keep. PUSHING. myself. where? how? i love being grateful for things, but right now i’m grateful that i get to leave my apartment, that i have this space where i can be myself, at all crazy moments.
i’m pushing myself.
taking four classes, working part-time, owning a dog that i’m not sure i have the basic energy for :(, it strikes me that i’m scared of my own life. in the MONTH after field broke up with me i’ve adopted two animals. (and my sarcastic inner voice asks, ‘perhaps so that they could distract you from feeling abandoned? and left, finally to your own devices?’)
where did i think i would be by now? i thought i’d be published. married, or at least in a loving long-term relationship. graduated. travelling. creative, instead of this, “oh, i’m creative!” but never DOING anything bullshit. i’m suffering from the syndrome where i thought you were supposed to grow up and life would be perfect. you know? and i want to tell myself to SHUT UP, already, life is not perfect, you 28-year-old emotionally regressive moron, and you think your mother dying at 20 is bad? so what that you had a bunch of unresolved issues and your dad’s a perverted putz and you’ll just never get closure about your family. really? it’s no biggie.
lots of people only rely on themselves at the age of 28 – in fact, most people want it that way, and don’t wish there was some parent with a wad of money willing to bail you out. just because it’s only you between success and failure – deal already. you can buy your own damn toilet paper and make your own leftovers and you can even make yourself a bagged lunch with a love note inside.
i just can’t seem to make friends here. i tried, and whenever the people who i wanted to befriend and i were in the same room – nothing seemed to stick. i couldn’t make it stick. i look wistfully at people who make plans together after class and wish i was one of the invited ones, and i wonder what is it about me that makes me not? do i come across as a know-it-all, or bitchy, or unapproachable? some horrible combination of all 3?so you’re lonely, little girl. so you’re lonely and tired. that’s okay, but for the love of god, deal already. okay? i’m sick of the constant up/down/up/down/up/down…. 

whooo boy, sorry for that.
quickly, five things i am grateful for:
1. class. ha HA. can you believe i’m just starting to appreciate it as the semester is ENDING?
2. perhaps a muffin and a coffee on the way to class, for a special, quick bee treat.
3. my friendship with field. sometimes, i feel guilty for how much i confide in him, and think that i should lay off otherwise i’ll drain him to death. but i love him and i love the way he loves me and sometimes i’m astonished by the quality of human beings i have been surrounded with, this life-time.
4. my animals.
5. amy winehouse.

ANYWAYS. i’m going to get the hang of this love-myself-be-a-grown-up-stability thing one of these days. i promise myself. PROMISE.art borrowing day

art borrowed from here