 ARCHIVES
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Friday, August 15, 2008
Transitions, Or Lack Thereof It's hard to imagine that just seven days ago, I was in small city Quebec, and now I'm back to small city Ontario without having missed a beat. It blows my mind to think that a week ago, I received a certificate for completing the French immersion program, I danced the night away with friends, I spoke fluently in a language that I hadn't used in eight years. And now, I'm sitting alone in a little cafe with my laptop and a peppermint tea behind a man who I'm sure is browsing porn sites. In seven days I've managed to move three times, start a new job, and attend a three-day training conference, which basically means I did the other things all in four days. My schedule has been hard enough on my body that I'm starting to wake up with sore throats and I'm getting a cold any day now. I should be at home* resting**, but sometimes I just want to go out if only because I'm having a good hair day, I'm wearing a nice jacket, because the weather is nice. Tonight, it's all three of those things and right now I'm this close to just going back to an empty apartment that I just moved into and going to bed because I have no company with which to spend my time. Blach. I miss my life in Chicoutimi. I was (still am?) really looking forward to a nice, relaxing weekend. I think I'd like some wine, Disney movies, and making out. * A funny word considering that I call any place where I sleep "home". Chicoutimi was home. When I was crashing at my friend Nik's place earlier this week, I called her apartment home. I guess my old apartment is home now, too. ** As much as I can call sleeping uncomfortably on a crappy mattress with dirty sheets "resting". Gah, I hate moving. |
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