kerry’s blog

I love fireworks, but having worked for one of the biggest entertainment companies in the world, I've been completely spoiled for fireworks and parades.  My mom and I went to a nice display at the park behind our house, and it was pretty good; 25 minutes worth of fireworks.  But I kept waiting for the musical crescendo, or for some characters to come out and save the day.  Hehe.

Hooray for our country!  Let's celebrate by blowing stuff up and possibly setting something on fire!

Happy Canada Day everybody.

I'm sick of being miserable.  I want to take some risks and be happy.

Baby steps.

NOTE:  Major ranting/bitching/whining/complaining ahead.  Feel free to surf on over to some other site for the moment, but I have to get this out or I'll go crazy.

I haven't been inspired to write lately.  This is most likely because I have absolutely nothing interesting going on in my life right now.  Turns out trying not to spend money causes massive boredom.

There's so much I want to do.  I want to go visit my Nan at the trailer, but I can't because I don't have a car.  I'd like to text my friends but I don't have a cell phone.  I'd like to take a class just to get me out of the goddamn house but again, that costs money.  I'd like to visit friends, but the vast majority of my friends live at minimum two hours away.  (Why is it that everyone expects me to come visit them?  This isn't the first time this has happened... it seems like I'm always the one who has to do the visiting.  As much as I love to travel and see my friends, I wish they'd come see me once in awhile.)  It even costs me money to go to work... $5 a day to take a forty-five minute bus there and then another one back home.

I know this is all completely my fault.  Really, I should just go out and get any old job.  I'm just gutted to think that all I'm qualified for is a part-time retail or cashier position.  I never heard back from the management job I applied for... so what now?  I don't want to go back to school.  I'm already still $15k in the hole from my undergrad, and look how much that's gotten me...

I'm just in such a bad mood.  My room is disgusting and I have absolutely no motivation to clean it.  I've been home from England for almost two weeks and my suitcases are still sitting on the floor, still half-full of stuff.  Why should I clean?  What's the point?  It's just going to get messed up again.

My mother keeps borrowing my stuff without asking.  Perfume, nail polish, my cd player, DVDs.  I wouldn't mind it if she just asked first.  And she keeps plunking herself down in front of me and expecting me to drop whatever I'm doing to paint her toenails or put cream on her back or something.  Oh sure, she's out all weekend and three nights a week with one of her boyfriends (and when she's home she's glued to her computer, prowling dating sites) but when she wants me I'm just expected to drop everything and obey her every whim.  And of course, I'm painting her toenails with my nail polish of course.

This is the kicker.  This weekend she baked some miniature cakes.  Some for her and one of her boyfriends, and some for me.  Our new oven is kind of finicky and has a tendency not to cook properly.  That, combined with a minor kitchen catastrophe of some kind, results in me on the receiving end of two burnt cakes that had fallen on the floor, with the good ones going to her boyfriend.  The justification: "He's never had my cake yet, and besides, you can just pick off the burnt part."  Thanks Mom.

I think the worst part is that I just miss Glen so much.  He's working three jobs right now, and so he's rarely online.  I spoke to him over the weekend but since then communication has been sparse.  I know he's busy but I just wish we talked more... I miss him like crazy, and I feel like a part of me is missing when he's not around.

I'm not having any fun, there's no joy or adventure in my life right now.  I feel completely wasted inside; like my life is just slowly draining out of me, and I'm powerless to stop it.  Why does it feel like there's nothing good out there for me?

PS:  The next-door neighbours' kids are STILL screaming their guts out, and the upstairs neighbours are STILL stomping around like they are half-people, half-elephant.  Someday I will have a house and never have to share a wall again.

Drama, drama.

The fire alarm just went off in the building, so everyone was forced to troop outside to wait for four (count 'em) fire trucks and two police cars to clear the building.  We were stuck outside for a good half an hour, which equalled thirty minutes of missed American Gladiators.  Sigh.

I must say, my neighbours are quite the classy sort.  I was surrounded by mullets and other 90's hair, wrestling t-shirts, and babies clad only in diapers (one of which spewed all over the superintedant's daughter... charming).  Many of the neighbours didn't even bother to leave the building and had to be forced out by the firemen.

Eavesdropping out the screen door... the supe's pretty pissed off... sounds like he's going to press charges against whoever set the fire.  Something about jail time.  Sweet.  I'll have to keep an eye on the newspaper.

That's pretty much the most exciting thing that's happened this weekend, other than my Papa called today... well, my mom and I had our garage sale on Saturday and I made almost $200... but since I got back from England I've been bored bored bored.  I can't wait to go back.

Well, I'm hungry... back to chips and salsa.

Just a quick post before I have to get ready to shower and pack to go home.  I can't believe how fast these past weeks have gone.  Sigh.

I've bashed my head on the underneath part of the stairwell like 5 times today.  Add to that the multiple head bashes on the shelf above Glen's bed, and I'd say I'm well on my way to a concussion.

GAH!

I have completed four loads of laundry today, which makes me feel very productive and such.  I don't mind doing laundry; it's my most preferred chore out of any.  Did up the dishes as well.  I went out to go to the store to get some necessities (the bread is going moldy, and we're down to about 2/3 of a roll of toilet paper) and found that the store was closed.  Hmmm.  I can also hear Michael (Glen's brother, whose house we're staying at) playing World of Warcraft downstairs on his big-ass television.

I love living in a boy house.

England so far has been not too bad.  Glen has taken me around Herne Bay where he lives, through Whitstable on the bus, and to Canterbury where we spent the day.  We went to the Build-A-Bear Workshop there =) and went to this museum/walk-through thing about the Canterbury Tales.  Rode a double-decker bus as well.

It's been hard the past couple of days since Glen has had to work at both of his jobs and I'm terrified being alone in a strange country.  I went to the high street with him yesterday so we could have lunch together between his two jobs and I walked back to Michael's by myself.  I managed to take a wrong turn somewhere fairly close to home but freaked out and went into a store and got them to call me a cab, since I didn't have a phone (let alone know any taxi service numbers).

It's incredible how different England is to Ontario.  The houses are fairly small and very close to the street and to each other.  Michael's fridge, washer and dryer are microscopic and Glen says that's normal.  I'm pretty sure my bar fridge that I had at Vic Hall was about the same size as Michael's fridge here.  The washer and dryer, however, work amazingly well and don't use a lot of water/energy it seems.  They do take forever... two and a half hours for a wash!  Trade-offs, I suppose.

There aren't any malls around here.  In Canterbury there are a ton of shops but they're all outside.  Kind of reminds me of (my) Hyde Park in (my) north London, strip malls I suppose?  Box stores?  Whatever.  (That is going to get very confusing when I go to London, England.)  People seem to be very into buying locally and supporting local businesses rather than big companies.

All the school kids wear uniforms, even if they go to public school (called "state" school here).  I've noticed the school kids seem to swear a lot too, but I'm sure they do that in Canada too.

I am, however, in love with fries (chips, rather) served in a newsprint cone.  De-lic-ious.

Those are just a few of my observations so far.  I'll post more when I think about it... right now I'm quite tired.  Didn't sleep well last night... maybe I'll have a nap before Glen comes home.

It's so freaking hot in here (and no, I won't be taking off all my clothes, har har).  We've got the condo closed up tighter than a drum and I'm sweltering.  Not to mention that my stomach is a mess, my legs are so itchy I just want to scratch them off, and my face is all flaky.  I just want to look pretty for when I see Glen... is that such a bad thing to wish for?

At least my hair looks semi-decent.  We'll see how that fares after two and a half hours of driving, three hours of waiting at Pearson, and seven hours of flying overseas.  Woot.

I think at this rate, as long as I get there semi-conscious and with all my luggage I'll be happy.  Glen will keep me regardless if I'm sweaty, wrinkly, half-asleep... I hope.  =P

I'm SO excited.  A little nervous... I don't know why.  This will be my first overseas flight in eight years.  But I've flown tons in between that (back and forth to Florida and California, mainly).  I don't know.  I'm not worried about forgetting anything, since most of my stuff is already laid out and if I do forget something I can always get it in England.  The most important things are my passport, wallet, and boarding pass.  Everything else is replaceable.  (Except Dante, but he will be in my carry-on... there will be ZERO risk of leaving him behind, that's for sure.)

So, with that, I'm going to toss the rest of my stuff in my bag and sit around for awhile until it's time for me to get to the airbus station.  Depending on how much internet time I have in England, I may or may not be posting for a bit.  Until then!

I got tons of work done on my boxes today.  I only have a few to go, and they're mostly full of large items that are going to the garage sale (read: Barbie camper and tent; yes, my Barbies liked to go camping) so it won't take too long.  I have to pack and try and tidy my room as well.

However, I'm in a lot of pain right now.  I must have lifted too much, or lifted improperly (with the back, instead of correctly lifting with the legs) or twisted a funny way, but my lower back/tailbone area is just killing me.  My mom said it could be my sciatic.  I have no idea what it is, other than the fact that I have to move very slowly and I have a pillow under my lower back to try and ease some of the pressure.  I can't have screwed up my back before I head to England... ugh.  I'll try putting some muscle rub on tonight and see if that helps any.

I've started reading Bright Lights, Big Ass by Jen Lancaster and so far it's pretty funny.  (I was supposed to be saving it to read on the plane, but I'm pacing myself so I don't finish it too quickly.)  There was a section where she was whining about being bored to her husband where I really wanted to smack her, but other than that I'm enjoying her writing.  Her tone is conversational and witty, with the odd F-bomb that makes it seem like I'm reading a transcript of a conversation I might have with one of my best friends.  So far, so good.

I also picked up Twilight by Stephanie Meyer to take to England.  The girls at TJB have been raving about it, so I finally caved and picked it up.  I've been trying really hard not to buy any new books, since I've got an entire shelf in my bookcase devoted to books I haven't read yet, but I just couldn't resist.  I'm travelling, I think I deserve a new book (or two, haha).  I think that's a logical want.

Anyway, I'm exhausted, so I think I'm going to head to bed at a relatively decent time (for me, is anytime before 2 AM).  Good night!

Or rather, the items that have been a part of their lives for many, many years?

Still working on the boxes.  I got a significant amount of work done today, which has vastly improved my mood.  I'm still going slightly crazy (read: thisclose to freaking out) about the amount of stuff in the dining room, but the pile is slowly but surely getting smaller.  Thank goodness.

My biggest problem is letting go of things that I've had for years and years.  Pretty much all my "stuff" is in perfect condition (I was a very fastidious child, and even now I take very good care of my things) and so I feel like it's wasteful to get rid of it if it's still in perfect condition.  As well, since I'm garage sale-ing a lot of it, I want to charge more than I know it will sell for.  I am pretty much a garage sale expert, having grown up with the Queen of Garage Sales Herself (my mother), and I know that people (sorry to say it) are cheap.  Cheap, cheap, cheap.  They want something for nothing.  I remember one particular garage sale incident back when I was about twelve; we had a nearly brand-new item selling for $20, a television set or a stereo system or something of the sort.  For the life of me, I can't remember what it was, but we were about to move and couldn't take it with us and it was brand new, with the box, so $20 was an excellent price.  No word of a lie, I had a guy come up to me, and with a straight face, offer me 25 cents for the item.  I would have liked to laugh in his face, but seeing as I was raised with manners, I told him, no, the item was $20.  So what does he do?  Decides to take the item, and tries to hand me a $50 to pay with it!

I told him I didn't have that kind of change.  He acts all huffy, hands me a $20, takes the item and leaves.  Cheapass.

That's my biggest pet peeve about garage sales.  People pick up something marked as a dollar and want to offer fifty cents for it.  Eventually you just say sure because you don't want to deal with them anymore.  Then they hand you a dollar and expect you to make change.  Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...

Just give me the freaking dollar... what are you going to use the other fifty cents for?  More garage sale shit?

Despite all my bitching, we are indeed having this garage sale, and it will most likely occur while I am in England.  (I've said it before, but my mother is a saint for dealing with all this stuff.)  We have SO much stuff.  Hopefully we can make some good cash on it.

I wish my camera had batteries in it right now, because the mess in this place is unbelievable.  The computer room is literally filled with stuff.  The pile is nearly taller than me.  How could two women amass so much stuff?

ANYWAY... my original point was letting go of stuff.  This also extends into throwing stuff away.  I am a packrat.  I keep things for years and years... case in point, today I found a crate filled with birthday, Christmas, and other miscellaneous event cards, dating back to when I was 10 years old.

I'm 25.

Fifteen years of cards are sitting in a crate in my bedroom.  This is insanity people!

I have three "reasons" that hold me back from throwing things away.  The first "reason" is sentiment.  To go with the greeting card example, it's very sweet that I have so many people that care enough about me to send me a card for whatever reason, and if they knew I was throwing it away, would they be upset?  The second "reason" is environmentality.  I wish I could recycle the cards, but my building doesn't recycle fine paper.  I've looked into other ways to recycle fine paper around here, and I've found companies that will do it... for a fee.  I don't think I should have to pay to recycle, to be perfectly frank.  My tax dollars pay for garbage and recycling pickup... why should I have to pay for a service (albeit, an incomplete service) that I already indirectly pay for?  Which brings me to the third "reason," money.  I just think of all the money that people spent buying greeting cards (and pens, and stamps if needed) and it just seems so wasteful.  If I were truly enterprising and crafty, I would use my old greeting cards for scrapbooking and making new cards, but I know full-out that I'll never do that. 

(I have similar issues with my university course readers... I spent hundreds of dollars on course readers that I may or may not have read; definitely resented and disliked reading them; and can never sell back to the bookstore.  To make matters worse, I know for a fact that I don't remember a single thing that I read about in those readers, which makes me question my entire academic experience at university... but that's an issue for another day.)

This whole process has made me very aware of my spending and consuming habits as well as the habits I want to form moving ahead.  I don't want more "stuff."  I have lots of "stuff," more stuff than I'll ever use in my lifetime.  In the grand scheme of things, I shouldn't really be spending much money anyway, as I am still paying off a $16,000 student loan.  So, my old clothes are going to the Canadian Diabetes pickup bin; my excess art supplies are headed to my grandparents' trailer park where the kids programs can use them; and the rest is garage sale fodder.  I'm learning ways to consume without cost; for example, my mom trades in her nearly-new paperback novels at a market.  She gets new books to read, and others get to read her old stuff.  Then when she's done with those books, she takes them back, and the cycle starts again.  She gets her reads and doesn't have to spend any money or take up any more space on her bookshelf.

I'd rather spend my money on experiences and memories than stuff.  A concert or a show, a manicure or a facial, a trip to a museum or a new restaurant, or travel.  There is so much world out there, and I've hardly seen any of it.  And all of these things can be shared with people you care about.  So from now on, if people want to get me a gift, give me the gift of time.  That way I can spend time with people I love while making memories we'd cherish for years to come.  And it's a lot more meaningful than a t-shirt or a bottle of bubble bath.

Unless, of course, you're into group bubble baths.  Then, knock yourselves out.  Who am I to judge?

The apartment buzzer just beeped, so someone was outside.  Since I wasn't expecting anyone, rather than buzzing them in, I used the intercom and asked who it was.  No answer.

Ok, fine, whatever.

A few minutes later, someone knocked on my door.  I peeped out the peephole and there's a random guy standing out there.  I put the chain lock on the door and opened it up just a crack.

"Uhhhh... is there a person named Jordy who lives around here?"

Turns out this is some really tall 14-year-old-ish kid.  I told him I didn't know and pretty much shut the door in his face.

Ugh, ugh, ugh.  I wonder who let him in?  And is he just wandering around the halls?  And, if he knows someone who lives in the building, shouldn't he know what apartment he lives in?

I don't know the names of any of the people who live in the building; I've only lived here for about a month.  And honestly, since all the neighbours seem to do is yell and scream and stomp around, I don't particularly have any desire to get to know them.

I hope that kid is gone now.  UGH... I just feel creepy all over.