Why am I not happier?
New apartment! All alone!
Exactly what you wanted!
Thinkgs to cut up, photos to take!
Why am I not the happiest girl on the planet right now?
Restlessness..a nagging itch that I cannot help but scratch until I break the skin. How long will the scabs last? Is that simply mine to decide? Shut up and be happy?
Hopefully I can. I want my baby cat back so much, it is lonely without her, and I feel her jump up on the bed beside me every day at some point. I think that a “Mission Retrieve Phoenix” is in order. Maybe this week. What else has me frowning when I finally have what I was waiting for, for so long – a place to call home! I brainstorm like a Grade Four student.
- disappointment with my nearest and dearest – friends are clingy and want money or cigarettes – if I had any money to speak of it wouldn’t matter, but only comes as a cruel reminder that I do not have more. in addition, dad is quitting his job for the insurance comanny he hates because he cannot stand it any longer. I think this is fabulous, “they” are going to get to spend a whole lot of time together. His wife, on the other hand, who has not worked since the early 90s – I remember her working, oddly, the only day I met her before my father and her… “hooked up”?! A strip mall: Safeway, filler, Zellers. Her office – she worked for one of these stupid pyramid scam real estate companies, “Royal LePage”. If you are a real estate agent, why on Earth would you want to have this midleman checking your paperwork, that you sat beside lovingly, each day, from nine to five – with the exception of showing homes I suppose. Why on Earth can she not help my father by taking on a couple of old clients, just as they hit retirement? I wish I could do the work. I hate the phone, but I’m really good at it. I think I hate lots of things I’m really good at. She knows this and hates me for it – not the loathing part, the skillfulness.. I could set up some meetings and ask people to sign at the “x” several times. I’m not licenced though. Nor have I been doing absolutely nothing for twenty years – almost my lifetime! The woman uttered the words, “come back here”, implying that my existence in another city is too much of a burden (whether mentally, phiscially, financieally) on my father and thus on her. I shudder as I remember that I was actually “supposed to be there right now” had I not run away without telling anyone. Angie cracked a fake smile when saying goodbye, my father told me to “stay stafe”.
What does “stay safe” mean? To use sexual prophilactic devices? To make sure you do not get into a big van with a strange old mean? To make sure you do not end up in a situation where shreet drugs are up for the serving?!
My dad actually told me to walk on eggshells around her when moving anything from his house that I could make use of, like a pot from their former set, or the one before that. I cannot talk about this very much because I do not like to become that angry.
In sum, she will not get off the other phone when I have to discuss with my dad the disbursement of funds from my bank account in Winnipeg. Whose balance magically went down from $12,000 to $6000. Dad makes innuendoes that she is unaware of this account. Yes, I worry.
I worry for my dad.
- I want to do so many things…that cost money
I want to buy proper acrylic paints and canvas. I want my days to be full with learning and creating despite the fact that I’m not enrolled in school! I also wouldn’t mind buying some ketchup. Unfortunately, there is no disability allowance to “start from scratch” and buy those, say, $500 worth of items you’re just used to having in your house: band-aids, peroxide, scissors, tape, freezer bags, garbage bags, condiments of many varieties, spices, spatulas? Last time I moved from one Vancouver address to another I had all of these things, neatly packed in “frogboxes”, and there was none of this starting from scratch horror.
Rational as I am, I bought some canvas at the dollar store and after a talk with roomie, stating that he had been waiting for me by my apartment building for an hour to show me his latest new salon cut (the third in a month). I walked the opposite direction. I ended up finding some friendly, amazing folks to chat with on the DTES. As I’ve said before, I always find this where. I started sketching the woman, who was somewhat intoxicated, thus the expressions on her face, along with the face that carried them, kept shifting. I attempted to capture this, and the group were actually impressed – they thought I could draw! So there we have it…one more artistic talent lost but not forgotten while wading through the murkey maters or academia.
This woman has a thousand faces, and her expression changes so often…
Proper paint is very expensive, I bemoan!
- Silence: it’s for the best, but it shall take some getting used to.
Silence that for so long has been filled with arguing, forced conversation, “me” in front of other people. I have to remember how to be by myself again. It’s incredibly pleasant and I mustn’t be afraid of it. The silence after I close my eyes and before I fall asleep. Why does it have to be filled with television, something to make it less vast – to silence my own thoughts.
This I struggle with the most. My own thoughts – though they may not seem so, they are the most terrifying thing in the world to me. Thus, when I am all alone, with nothing but my own thoughts, not even the rain or the goddamn train, I panic. Usually the thoughts are pleasant – tomorrow is exciting. I do not know where this irrational fear originates, or how exactly to get rid of it… Art definitely helps, but those few moments are inevitable.