So. Here goes my first entry. My sister told me I should have one of these online-journal things because it's 'easier' than putting a normal outdated pen to ordinary old-fashioned paper. I guess I should get with the times. I have resigned myself to the fact that the sole purpose of this endeavor is for my own entertainment. A break from the ordinary. I can come here and bitch about all my petty first-world inconveniences, and some similarily-troubled teen from halfway around the world can read it and say 'wow, she's got it just as tough as I do'. If this is your first time reading my blog (or whatever the deuce it's called), then I will warn you right now; this will be no sunny trip down the yellow brick fucking road. At this point in my life, I am single, unemployed, out of school, and sick of pretty much everyone. My entries will, at most times, be soaked with sarcasm and riddled with ridicule. Don't get me wrong, if you ask anyone, they will tell you that I am an outwardly happy person. It's true. Put me in a crowd of strangers and I thrive with colloqial opportunity. I like to entertain, and I like to be the centre of attention. I am sickenly pleasant in the company of 'elders', and I have been described, on occasion, with any one of the following adjectives: 'charming', 'charismatic', 'joyful', etc. In fact, my name means 'happy and cheerful'. Go figure. The truth is, what I lack in outward grouchiness, I make up for with inner pessimism. Basically, I am going to use this techinological outlet as a Ranting Ground. I am usually painfully honest with people, so most of the complaining will have to do with politics and my own personal grievances.You have been amply warned.
Today is Sunday. I woke up to my father slamming shit around in the kitchen. He's the type of guy who, only two days ago, threw an absolute fit because the battery on the cordless phone died while he was on hold with Telus. First of all, if you're calling Telus, it would be wise (first and foremost) to find an ordinary phone, then grab yourself a few days worth of sustenance, and tap into your stockpile of patience. So my dad threw his little tantrum which, in turn, provoked my step-mother into a similarily-superficial rage and they both jousted back and forth in a dance we fondly call 'failed marriage'. Later, in the car, I calmy asked my father whether he thought people in third world countries wished they could worry themselves with obstacles as petty as our own. He said 'you're probably right'. Of course I am; I've held an impressive amount of reason and rationality, superior to that of my parents, since I was 12 years old. Back on topic, I awoke to his squabble with the pots and pans and looked at my clock. It said 9:30. I'm usually up before nine, so I pleasantly regarded this as 'sleeping in'. I went into the kitchen and reminded my father that Tracey (my sister) had worked the late shift and she would probably appreciate sucking the last few hours of silence out of the house. He responded with "Goodmorning to you, too," and proceeded to finish his breakfast, actively ignoring me. Following this altercation, I checked his work schedule to see if I would have to deal with him for the rest of the day. It said he worked '5:30am to 1:30'. I double-checked my watch for the date, then I asked him why he wasn't at work. With a small banter back and forth about what day it was, I came to realize that this February is a leap year. Fancy that. I fixed my watch. This means that not only is tomorrow the first of the month, it's also a Monday. A fresh start. My new-month resolution? Find a goddamn job. I've been unemployed since I left RMH in December. For those not familiar with the hell-hole employing 80% of Nanaimo's youth; RMH is a teleservice centre where employees are ball-and-chained to the desolate workforce by a desk, a headset, and a million seemingly-retarded American customers. I worked as a Microsoft Customer Service Rep. Sounds fancy, yes. My daily asinine duties consisted of updating credit cards (for idiots that couldn't remember which of the twelve Am-Ex's they used for MSN), resetting passwords (for idiots that never wrote them down), and changing address information (for manically depressed housewives who believed moving to another state would cure them of their failed American Dream). The only thing that kept me alive was my admirable ability to feign pleasantness. I was an independant factory of synthetic eagerness to please. My charm worked wonders; unpleasant customer's frequently asked for managers so they wouldn't have to 'take it out on' me. Despite promise of promotion, (which I'm sure would have come eventually), I grew to despise RMH. I couldn't stand sitting on my ass all day and reiterating the same goddamn shpiel about how great corporate monopolies are. I felt like working there went against certain moral standards I had rooted inside me. I quit shortly after I got in my car accident, using that event as a minor excuse, and took some time off to enjoy the meaningless consumer orgy that is Christmas! Now, I have nothing against giving presents. I have nothing against spending ridiculous amounts of money on reminding your relatives that you really do care about them. Nothing says 'I love you, Dad' like a new pair of tube socks, right? In fact, I love the irony of it all. So what if you have to pretend you like your family for a few weeks, you can go back to ignoring them just as fast as the malls get rid of their cheesy holiday decor. I've gotten a little off topic now. Back to the unemployment thing. I've been looking for a job frantically; resorting to the lowest of the low: Wendy's. Wendy's, in itself, is not low; it's the principle of working for $6.50. Whore-ing myself is more tempting. I haven't had any luck, even from the gutterjobs, and I guess it's due to the fact that it's the worst time of year to look for employment. It also doesn't help that Nanaimo's job market fucking sucks. I'm at the point where I am willing to pack a suitcase and move to wherever I can find work. I've considered the mainland and Victoria, and as soon as someone offers me cheap rent, I'm gone. I have a thing with escaping. Nothing intrigues me more than the thought of leaving everything and going on an adventure. It sounds lame and theatrical, I know. On more than one occasion, I have snuck out of the downstairs window at 2 am to go sit on a school playground and watch the sunrise. I love the fact that if you asked anyone where I was, they wouldn't know. I left backpacking last summer with my then-boyfriend, Trevor, (you'll hear more about him later, I'm sure), and we got as far as Calgary. It wasn't the distance (or lack thereof) that counted, it was the fact that we were alone, and we could basically do whatever we wanted until the cash ran out. I'd love to do it again, but I want to go farther next time. I want to hitchhike and bum money and not have any deadlines or places to go. I have a feeling that when I get a little older, I'm not going to want to stay in one place for very long. That may be a downfall of mine, but it's part of my personality. I get bored with routine; in fact, it depresses me. That's probably why I hate work so much. As much as I want a job, I also know for a fact I'm going to loathe it. It's only until September, I remind myself. I'm hoping to start school then. I'm accepted at Malaspina, I just have a few minute details to work out. Oh, and I'm sure money will be a huge issue, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. I'm getting a bachelor of arts; major in Global Studies and minor in Economics. I want to do something with intergovernmental affairs. You'd think that with my attitude, I'd hate the government and want to work against it. That's partially true. I hate parts of the government. I fully despise certain laws and practices that are controlled by the government. However, saying I wanted to work against it would be ridiculous. What could I accomplish? I would rather work within the government, slowly gain power and recognition with society, and have some influence on decisions that are made. I have a feeling I can be a lot more effective inside the system than outside. I'm particularily drawn to human rights and social development. I'm not sure if there's even a title to what I want to do; there's so many things I'm interested in improving. I just know that when I die, I want to feel like I did something worthwile. If there is no afterlife; no second chance; then I want to go out feeling like I was the spark of some progressive fire. In the meantime, I'm just an in-between. I'm inbetween jobs, inbetween boyfriends, inbetween roles (not quite an adult, not quite a kid), and inbetween stages of life. Speaking of boyfriends, Catherine (a best friend) has taken a notice of my recent sour attitude concerning relationships, and recommended I meet a guy she works with. His name is Oliver, he's my age, and he's in a band. I could care less of what he looks like, but please god, let him have a personality. Looks are nothing to me, I prefer to ask myself 'what will I learn from this person?'. I hate that blind-date bullshit though. I'd rather just hang out with a group of people and see if we have anything to talk about. I would prefer to be under the influence of a mood-enhancer at the time, but a friend recently convinced me that it wasn't a good idea. Well. This post is long enough. I promise the others won't be nearly as extensive. On second thought, I don't promise. Who knows what could happen in the next day or so...... On that note, I exit stage left. Or is it exit stage right? Who cares, I'm quoting Rush, *shudder*, what have I become?

"Sincerity empties me and all I see is a realization of how it's always been."
-Moneen