I really like meeting people that are straightforward and real. I dislike meeting someone for the first time, and getting the impression that the next meeting will be different. My kind of people are more likely to have an attitude that resembles "I'm here, this is me, take it or leave it". You always know what to expect when you're around them, and getting to know them is always a lot more fun than getting to know someone who puts on a personality just to please other people because every time you see them, it seems they are someone completely different.

I met my friend's boyfriend on New Year's Eve. Even new to our entourage, within one hour, he had warmed up to our group and was socializing like we'd known him for months before that. He was laughing, making jokes, and going along with our sarcastic and sometimes ridiculously childish behaviour. I've hung out with him a total of two times, which included New Year's Eve, and last night. What I really like about him, is that he didn't change from the first to the second time. He doesn't hide his opinions because they are different from ours. He's a pure Quebecois, and I'm Franco-Ontarian, which can make for some intense political debate. But he is not afraid to go ahead and argue and debate with us, whether or not we agree. It's been fun getting to know him, because he is very sarcastic and it's always hard to tell, on account that I don't know him all that well, whether he's serious or not. But that's who he is, and he came straight out as that exact person.

I like people like that. People that have no problem showing us who they really are the first few times we meet them. People that are directly implying: get used to it or don't, but I won't change for you. They're real, straightforward, and just by seeing their personality, you know that they are being true to who they are and they aren't faking a new personality each time the group of people they are with changes.

I was really disappointed in myself last semester, based on my lack of class attendance and lack of using my actual potential in all school related work. I thought I'd screwed up and I've been waiting forever for my final grades. I finally got them back, and I also got a big project grade earlier this week, and I cannot believe how well I have been doing when I haven't even really been making the effort. As it turns out, I got an A- in my Sexual Constructions of Sexuality class, and I attended something like 3 classes over the entire semester. I got a B in my Intro to Western Political Theory class and I didn't even finish my readings, nor did I show up to class more than 3-6 times over the entire semester, and I completely bullshitted my way through my papers and the final exam. I also wrote a 12 page literature review in 7 hours the day before it was due, and I got myself an 85% on it. I've never been so satisfied. I don't know how I managed, but I got myself out of going to class so many times that I can't even count them, and yet I'm still doing pretty decently. Hrm... Makes you wonder, how well could I actually do if I showed up and spent some extra time on my assignments? Fuck... I could probably be valedictorian or something! (Sorry, as smart as I'd like to make myself look, I don't actually know how to spell valedictorian and I don't feel like checking...).

Every semester I escape a failing grade even including my lack of effort and attendance, and I tell myself I'll make the effort and show up, and work hard, and then the next week I'm up to my old habits, and next thing you know, I'll be graduating anyway. I love university. It's all about knowing how to bullshit your way through.

Everyone is out for him/herself. That is our nature. Unfortunately, others get hurt in the process. But pain is very subjective. What may hurt for days on end may suddenly become an opening for something else. Something possibly good. Something possibly life changing. Whatever the case may be, pain almost always definitely teaches you something. In most cases, you learn something very valuable about yourself. Who you are, where you want to be, what you want to do, it becomes clear. And even if it isn't so clear at the moment you experience it, it eventually turns into a realization you may have otherwise missed without the pain or suffering. Every situation you live through, every emotion that fulfills you, every person that walks in or out of your life, no matter how significant or insignificant, positive or negative, it all has a purpose. Who knows what that purpose is, or when it will surface, but the point is that it exists. There is a reason for everything.

I came to terms with the person that I am not so long ago. It took me forever to find that identity that was mine, but I found it, and I accepted it. It doesn't matter what others think. It doesn't matter what others say. It doesn't matter how they perceive me. The only person on this entire earth that truly knows what I am about or who I am is me. I cannot let myself believe what others think of me. If they do not truly know me, which they couldn't possibly, then they know nothing about me, and therefore their image of me means absolutely nothing.

When you hit a wall in your life, it's sometimes difficult to see that you are not alone. At least for the first day or so. But then your friends and family are calling you every day to check up on you, to tell you they love you, to tell you they support you, and to remind you of how strong you actually are, no matter how weak you actually feel. They understand if you don't want to talk, but are there if you do. They understand if you aren't ready to socialize and go out and have fun, but they are also ready to sit with you for hours on end just to listen and comfort. They don't point to your puffy eyes and remind you of the pain, but instead let you heal at your own pace, all the while watching out for you and caring for you. And the next thing you know, you're back on your own two feet again. Or at least that's what I'm hoping for.

A few days after fooling me into thinking the new year was going to be great, the new year took a sick twist that changed everything. Life used to be delicious, but now it tastes pretty bland. Nothing could possibly accurately describe my emotions right now. I didn't expect it. My stupidity blocked me from seeing it coming a mile away. I wasn't prepared, and now I'm paying.

My bed doesn't feel the same. I can't sleep. I've always been on the insomnia edge, but now I've officially passed the border. I feel sick to my stomach. I don't want to get out of bed. But hey, I made it to the computer room, so that's a plus.

I feel empty. Lost. Like the birds ate the seeds I left behind me to find my way back. I don't know what to do with myself.

Time. Everyone says it'll take time. I don't have the time. I have a path to follow and I'm not even sure where that path went. I'm not sure what happened. I need closure, or an opening, or something. I'm not sure what.

I think I may have unwillingly created some tension between myself and my new neighbours. We haven't even been introduced yet, and it seems these complete strangers have taken it upon themselves to issue justice for myself and the rest of the innocent people in this building.

In terms of residents, myself and the old lady below me seem to have a similar schedule. I'm up at a relative decent morning hour, and I'm in bed by 1am. My right-side counterparts however, seem to be on a late night, up by late afternoon schedule, and I think it is causing a problem. My neighbour, who's a good friend of mine, works late evening shift at a restaurant, and it's fine between us because we are friends and have an understanding of each others' needs in terms of noise tolerance. But I may have broken some unwritten rules in the good neighbour book, because my neighbours seem to be competing for loudest noises.

My building is famous for lack of sound proofing. I work out somewhere between 10-noon, which causes a lot of noise because it involves a lot of jumping, and I've been told that it resonates all the way down to the bottom (I'm on the top floor). Afterwards, I have a habit of blasting music while I clean and get myself showered and ready to head out to work or school. The music vibrations seem to also reasonate all the way down to the bottom.

Recently, I've noticed that as soon as I turn off my blasting music, the neighbours are up and about blasting techno invading my apartment, and probably everyone else's as well. Now I realize I have no right to complain, because I'm the cause of a large portion of the noise. However, do we really need to compete? I never blast music longer than an hour or two per day (closer to one), and yet as soon as I turn it off, it seems we're stuck with techno making the walls vibrate for the rest of the afternoon/evening period. I think my concern is mostly related to the old lady downstairs, who never says a single word to anyone about the noise, and she's surrounded on all sides. Me above her, the neighbours beside her, all being young and loud. I wonder how she handles that sometimes. Also, having seen her a total of about 5 times in 4 years, I sometimes worry about her well-being.

Anyway...

If coffee didn't exist, I'm not sure I'd survive in this crazy world of early mornings and insomnia, and cold winters making my skin dry and my lips chapped, and my hair tangled. If I believed in god, I think I would write him an ode to thank him. But since I don't, consider this my thanks to Tim Horton's and Maxwell House for the coffee that makes mornings somewhat bearable.

Also, System's new album, Hypnotize, came out on Tuesday. I couldn't afford to pick it up at first, but my man, who can respect and understand my love for this band, helped me out and lent me the money to buy it. It's absolutely fabulous. I would even say brilliant. The loud thumping heavy aggressiveness is still present, mixed with the usual strange yet addicting beats of all sorts, lyrically genius, this album is great. If you're a System fan, you should definitely go pick it up. It's worth the price.

I've been getting financial aid in this province for a while now. Never had any problems until now. They ask you to fill out this form, twice a year, to confirm how much money you're making. Last year, I skipped out on both forms, and no one even noticed. This year, I was thinking of doing the same thing, but they implemented this new thing where if you don't fill out the form, your financial aid money gets suspended. So I was a good little citizen and filled out the form.

I should mention that I barely make $500/month. I have a work contract with my university and can only work 11.5 hours per week. This suits me perfectly, because I'm a full time student anyway, and besides my 10 hours of classes every week, I can rack up anywhere between 2-10 hours of homework per class, per week. There's no time to work more than that even if I was allowed.

So I filled out the form. A few days later, I checked my bank account to make sure everything was fine for my rent to go through. It wasn't. My financial aid's been cut by over $100 for the month of November, and it'll be cut over $50/month every month after that from the original amount I've been getting. The original amount was barely enough for me to pay my bills. Now I'm struggling even more.

I work my butt off every day, trying to get out of school, and trying to keep up with my work hours. All I'm trying to do is to pay my bills and be able to eat and have a roof over my head. The winter's coming, which means if I want heat in my apartment, my hydro bill will hyke up to at least 2-3 times what it's been over the past few months. And here I am, with less funds than I actually started with. I don't spoil myself, never had the money to. I waited 4 years to buy a new winter jacket and have yet to get winter boots. I don't ask for much. I really just want to pay my bills and eat properly. The only pleasure I've kept for the past 3 years in school has been smoking cigarettes, and I buy a carton for $20 instead of my brand for $70 per carton. I cut out pot from my life, I cut out outings, I cut out a social life of any kind.

My only consolation is that I will be finished school in 8 months. Then, of course, I'll be stuck paying the government for about 10 years for student loans, but at least I won't be depending on them for income. I just can't possibly understand how they calculated the amount I deserve. How they expect anyone to live off that amount is beyond me. I hate the government. Simple as that.

I've been having these pretty serious attendance issues in the past month or so, showing up to class on average once or twice a week instead of 5. I don't see going to class as being very useful anymore. It's not like I'm wasting my time while I'm avoiding class, I actually use my time wisely to catch up on readings and work on my research projects and essays. I've been stressing a lot about this heavy workload and managing to do things on time.

This weekend, I decided it was time to smarten up and to show up at class, try and do a full week. Haven't done one of those since... hrm... can't remember the last time I did a full week of school... No class on Mondays, but today was THE big day. The day I get back on track. The day I go to both my full classes and stop whining about how useless all of my classes are. Well, I should have stayed home. I spent all morning looking for excuses to stay home but couldn't find a valid one. I'm really trying to push myself to be responsible. I checked the website and my email repeatedly to make sure my classes weren't cancelled.

I show up at class a little early. Surprise! Class is cancelled. So why don't I go to class? Because everytime I go, I either waste my time, or class is cancelled. All this time to kill till my next class probably means I'm gonna end up going home. Give me too much freedom to change my mind about the big plan, and forget it, I'm off elsewhere to contemplate all things sociology and political science, and not sitting in class where I'm supposed to be.

Ok, I'll stop whining now.

I am not a good cook. I never was. It's not cause I can't develop the skill, it's because I despise the act of cooking. What I do like however, is baking. I buy plain cake and muffin mixes, and I personalize them with various ingredients to make special and simple delicious things. Whether or not you call that baking is irrelevant. It's baking to me.

I promised my boyfriend I would make him a chocolate cake as an appreciative gesture of everything he's done for me in the past couple of weeks while I've been feeling sick. I started the cake with the naive impression that the icing would be included in the box. It wasn't. So I walk over to my good friend's place next door, to see if she would happen to have icing. She doesn't, but she has icing sugar and can make icing from that. Great! I won't have to go buy any so it's perfect.

Not so perfect. She insisted she make the icing. Ok, fine. The cakes were already made and I waited over an hour for her to make the icing, again, not too much I can do, I'm not making it. But then when I want to pick up the icing and start finishing up my cake, she completely takes over everything and criticizes every single move I'm making. "Why are you taking the cake out like that?" "You shouldn't ice it like that, you should..." "Why did you use square pans instead of round ones?" "Why? Why Why???"

From the minute I let her make the icing, I was doomed. She knows I'm not a cook, but that's no reason to treat me like I'm entirely incompetent. She wanted to do everything, and when I told her I wanted to do it, she insisted she help. I had no choice but to let her. But it wasn't help, it was her doing everything and not letting me even put icing on the cake because I wasn't doing it "properly". Well excuse me for not being a bakery chef here, but I think I can manage to ice a cake just fine all by myself. I don't need a supervisor, I bake all by myself all the time and everything ends up just as delicious even if it's not perfect.

Everytime I end up in the kitchen with her, she treats me like a complete idiot. Just because I can admit that I don't like cooking, doesn't mean I can't do anything in the kitchen. I don't need to be criticized because I used a knife instead of a spoon to spread the icing, or because I used square pans instead of round ones. I don't need her to look over my shoulder to make sure I'm doing things "properly" and I don't need her to tell me that my chocolate chips aren't good, and that she should know because she's been cooking much longer than I have been. What the fuck? The chocolate chips are just fine, and so was the cake before she showed up and perfected it to her own liking. I didn't make the cake for her, I made it for my man, and now it's not even my cake anymore.

Her new nickname is the cake nazi. And NEVER will I ask for her help or ingredients again. I'll live without, or I'll walk to the nearest grocery store and get my own. That way at least I can ensure that the cake I want to make remains the cake I want to make, and not the image of perfection my cake nazi wants it to be.

I've been having an issue with lack of words to share lately.

My grandmother's passing away still lingers in the back of my head, and at the bottom of my heart.

School has overtaken my life almost completely.

I'm still waiting for my professor to do his job and give me a grade for last summer term's course, even though the deadlines have come and gone, and I'm not sure anyone will do anything to change that D+ that I never deserved.

Not a minute to breathe. Or to rest. Or to think for myself. There can be no me under these institutionalized settings. The conditions have got me in another frame of mind, one that is not even my own.

I remember the way she used to make these mini sugar pies just for me, cause they were my favourite. Sometimes she made mini chocolate pies. Her freezer was always full of baked goodies.

I remember staying overnight as a kid, and waking up to breakfast ready to be eaten. She'd make me peanut butter toast, and then she'd cut it into 6 tiny strips, cause that's the way I liked to eat it.

I remember the way she used to slip money into my hands, and how she would refuse to take it back when I tried to convince her that I didn't need it.

I remember how she requested I call her after every evening outing, just so she'd know I made it home safe and sound.

I remember our shopping trip together at Sears, when she helped me pick out my very first decent sound system, which she got me for my 15th birthday.

I remember our routine Kmart trips on the first Monday of every month, because she got an extra 15% discount.

I remember playing cards with her for hours on end, just laughing and chatting.

I remember her visiting my first Montreal apartment, when no other family members but my parents and sister would. She even came up the two flights of stairs and she was so excited to meet my cats.

I remember the tips and tricks she used to give me when I was sick, and how she insisted I take my vitamins every single day so I could stay in good health.

I remember the way she used to always tell me to pray to my grandfather for strength when I was feeling sad, stressed, nervous or anxious.

I remember that she always wanted to know everything about me. School, friends, boyfriends, life in general. She always kept a genuine interest in what was going on in my life.

Most of all, I remember her presence, her affection, her love, her words and her wisdom.

I miss her already but I know she is with me. I can sense her watching over me. Looking out for me.

Just when I thought I was done the summer term, I find out I"m nowhere near done. I got a D+ in my International Organization class. I couldn't understand since I'm certain I did well on my final, and I got an A+ on my mid-term. So I emailed my professor to ask him what happened. He tells me he never received my term paper. I handed the paper into his two hands on the last class. He even looked at me and acknowledged my presence. Now where is my paper? Who took it? Where did it go? A paper does not disappear. Now in the midst of my already tormenting vacation, I must resubmit my paper because of his irresponsibility. Can you trust anyone in this world? Anyone at all?

I hate the way you can see people becoming who they really are right in front of you. People are very deceiving. You spend all this time with them and put them up on a pedestal because you think that's where they belong, and then bang, the big shock. They're not the people you know. And who they really are, they're no longer hiding it. The disappointment takes over. You find yourself realizing that you've been manipulated. You find yourself making rash decisions because you just can't handle it anymore. You isolate yourself in the hopes that other people won't be able to hurt you there. But it feels worse.

The first half of my vacation is gone. I'm more tired and drained than I've ever been. It didn't go as planned, because some things just aren't in my control. I can accept that. Why can't other people?

I really shouldn't complain. For 3 years my landlord has been telling me that the pipes would be getting fixed. That's my landlord, big Mr. Procrastinater. This time he came through. Of course he forgot to tell me about it, but I found out just in time. And as I said, I really shouldn't complain, but guess what? I will anyway.

I didn't sleep too well last night. Had to work early this morning. Came home to find my apartment pretty much trashed. There's dust everywhere. My cats have nowhere to go. There are three men coming in and out. I have so much work to do. I can't do any of it today. I have no running water. My kitchen is so packed with tools and crap that I can't even access my fridge. I'm starving. Breakfast is far away... 5 hours in fact. I had to empty my entire bathroom. I had to empty my entire closet. My bed has mountains of stuff on it. I have an exam on Wednesday, and did anyone ever try to study with drilling and hammering in the background? I've done that so much this year. It never works. Did I mention I'm starving? And no running water? They say it'll only take one day. They better be right. Of course I don't know where I'm gonna find the time to put everything back where it belongs, or when I'll have time to clean the piles of dust and left over wall. Or when I'll fit in that work I have to do.

I'm really beginning to hate this place. I'm really beginning to need a real place to call home. One where I'll come home to no problems. No dust. No strangers. And maybe just a little bit of peace and quiet.

How nice it feels to be so close to the end of the term. So near to my vacation. Both my term papers are handed in. Of course I found out that I had extensions in both classes, but my lack of presence prevented me from knowing. And yet, even with the extra time to review and make them better papers, I said fuck it, I'm handing them in anyway. They're out of my hands, out of the way, and I can chill out just a little.

The stress and pressure is beginning to lift. I had one of my finals today, and besides the 15 hours of work I have to put in next week, only one final exam left and I'm free to relax until September 6th. WOOHOO!!!!! Ahhhh, the relief. I'm feeling so great right now, I can't help but smile.

My hand hurts like a bitch right now. Just just got out of my exam, and I'm at my work office to finalize some stuff for next week. 2 hours straight of writing has been quite painful for me. I'm normally out of ANY exam room at the very most, an hour after it started. But this was damn long! Simple, easy, and hopefully an A, but sooooo long.

Got an email from one of the girls I work with. It's funny, I slack as much as I can at work. I get my responsibilities done, and always on time, but I'm a slacker at heart, and can't get rid of my procrastination habit. I waste so much time, and yet I'm constantly praised for my intiative and hard work. Her email expressed great gratitude and appreciation for the work I've been doing for her PhD thesis. It was so sweet of her, and yet it makes me feel just a little bit guilty, cause I know I have the potential to work even harder, I just don't have the energy or interest for it.

Well, off to fill my fridge for my sister and her husband now, who will be visiting me and staying with me this weekend. It's been a while. It should be a really great weekend.

A great weekend wished to all!

Two months in a row, my landlord made mistakes and deposited rent cheques from the wrong bank account, even though I talked to him twice about it to make sure this wouldn't happen. It cost me $70 of non-sufficient funds, cause I'm poor and obviously don't have an extra $425 lying around for a second rent. After two months, he finally paid me back the NSF fees that it cost me. But this means nothing to the bank, and my credit is most likely fucked now.

Today, I just found out that my pay wasn't deposited last Friday like it was supposed to be. The new girl replacing the one on vacation handed in the paysheets too late, and now I'm not getting paid till this Friday, three weeks after my last pay was deposited. In the meantime, my bank is trying to recuperate my loan payments, and I have $0 to pay for it, since I didn't get paid. So far, I've incurred $35 of NSF fees, and more will come as they continue to try taking the money out of my account. I don't know what to do. I can't possibly ask the girl to pay me my NSF fees, mistakes happen and it was her first week dealing with paysheets. I can't possibly ask the payroll department to pay me back the fees, cause it wasn't their mistake, it was the girl's mistake. Now I'm screwed and I really have no idea what to do.

I'm so sick and tired of paying for other people's mistakes. This is money we're talking about, money I earned fair and square. Money I need to pay my bills. You just can't trust anyone in the corporate world these days. Sad, very sad. But most of all, it's too bad so sad for me, cause I'm the one who ends up paying. Financially, and emotionally. Cause now my stress has just gone up 10 notches or more, and there's nothing I can do.

Sometimes I wonder, if I didn't drink coffee, would I still be remotely sane? I've been drinking coffee for something like 10 years. It's the only thing keeping me functioning right now. Of course I've been drinking a lot more lately and I'm give myself a case of the shakes half the time, but without it, I think I'd sleep all the time. Nothing would get done.

I was having a mini-freak out last night. Term papers are making me a little insane. I've got two of them due this week, and a final exam as well. My essay on Canadian identity and Quebec separatism has been finished since Saturday morning. All done in about 10 hours split up in 2 days. Yesterday, I skipped class to try and write my NATO research. It took me about 8 hours in front of the computer to come up with 10 pages. I still need a minimum of another 2. I've got so many things to do. I'm in way over my head right now.

In 11 days I'll be on vacation. The question is, can I survive till then? I've overbooked myself for the vacation. I'm trying to make up for my recent isolation policy. I've neglected everything. Bills. People. Especially people. Left and right I hear them complain "you haven't had any time for me". And at the same time, they beg me to take care of myself more. Well, guess what, it's one or the other right now. Actually, it's neither. No time. Time is my biggest enemy. 4 days left to the week, a term paper to finish, one to review, an exam to study for, 15 hours of work to put in, preparation for this weekend's guests, vacation planning, and did I mention my apartment looks like crap?

My building's for sale, and the real estate agents are calling me every couple of days to come visit. Most of the time, I ignore their calls and don't call them back. Cause of course, I don't have time to clean, and I don't think anyone wants to see my disgusting apartment. Besides that, I really don't have time to be all decent to greet people, I've got more important things to do. I wish they'd just stop bugging me.

Well, off to get ready for class now. Another day filled with work and studying, and all the things I've procrastinated for the past 6 weeks. I think I might be losing it. But let's wait and see...

So my birthday's coming up in a few days. It's on Friday. The big 25. Wow. A quarter of a century old, and I'm sort of feeling like I've done nothing in those past 25 years of my life. I'm fairly certain I'm not the only person to have experienced this kind of lack of direction in my life. In fact, I'm fairly certain it's pretty common. Yet I find myself, maybe it's my old age *lol*, not caring about other people's experiences. I mean, it's not that I don't care, it's more like it doesn't affect me the way it used to. I don't compare myself to other people like I used to. I base all my judgements on my previous actions. Is this what maturity is like???

This week is mid-term week. Had one yesterday. Not too sure how well I did, but I know I used my bullshitting skills to their fullest extent. The trick in social sciences: use what you know, and expand till you can expand no more. I'm pretty sure it's a B. Could have easily been an A or an A+, but I put absolutely no effort in it. I didn't really study. I didn't finish my readings. I'm too burnt out to make the effort these days. Another exam on Thursday. Feeling a little more confident on this one. For one thing, my prof is excellent, and he keeps me interested in the subject, so I actually listen and things stick. Unlike my other classes this summer.

Only 22 days of hell to go before I can have my wonderful two weeks and a few days of real vacation. I booked off of work, and my finals will be over. Now let's hope my volunteer job understands that I need those two weeks for a full recovery and mental preparation for next September. They've been pushing me a lot lately, using the "I need you" guilt trip method. I know I've made a committment to them, and I'm prepared to honour it. But it's been quite a rollercoaster this summer. Seems to happen every summer though, whether or not I'm in school. I guess school just made it that much more stressful.

Bleh... guess that's it for me today. Hope everyone is having an a/c friendly summer!

Ok, that's it, I don't like summer anymore. It's too damn hot. For the last few summers, we've been getting 2-3 days of 40 degrees celcius weather per summer. Although it's acceptable based on the fact that it was only 2-3 days, it was already too much. This summer, it's been nothing but 40 degrees celcius days. Since June, I think this is the third heat wave we've gotten, and they're all lasting 4-5 days each, and it's even getting above 40 degrees celcius with humidex. It's ridiculous. I'm a poor student who can barely afford groceries, so I don't own an air conditioner and probably won't for another year unless someone donates one. The heat is so draining. I'm taking 3 showers a day when I'm at home. I sweat the second I get out, even if it's just walking from the washroom to my bedroom. I can't get to sleep at night. I wake up at sunrise. And public transportation? Complete hell. All because of this heat. I'm tired of it.

Fortunately, I do have my man's place to escape to for some well deserved a/c, and I don't spend so much time at home since I'm so busy with school, work, and my volunteering (all of which of course have a/c being public buildings), but I feel horrible for my cats. Everyone tells me they're fine as long as they have water to drink. But they've been excessively lazy, and hide under furniture for at least 90% of the time. I also hope I'm not hurting them by being away so much lately.

Anyway, that's my rant for the day. Maybe for the week.

I can't believe how long it's been since I've written here. I guess I'm trying to avoid posting personal conflicts that don't belong here. It's been a rough past few weeks. The stress and pressure has been at it's ultimate highest. I have been overwhelmed with many issues. Right now, I'm simply trying to recover.

To Childish: I've been trying to let you know that I'd like to read your blog, but I don't have any way of contacting you since you're not on my tblog friends list. Leave me a tmail when you can. Thanks!

HAPPY CANADA DAY!!!

Unfortunately for me, I'm stuck in a city which does not celebrate my country's big day. It makes me sad to be here, where no one is willing to wish you a happy Canada day, just because they're French. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a big party person anymore, but Canada Day has always been one of the holidays that actually means something to me. Significant holidays are rare to me. And the one I actually wish to enjoy and celebrate is meaningless to everyone around me in this province I'm beginning to despise. Sad. Very sad. Oh well.

Cheers to other Canadians!