The look on his face.
Holy shit am I bored here. Holed up in the one bedroom apartment my father shares with his wife. Couldn’t secure a September 1st lease, so I’m here until I find something. I wasn’t ready to leave the jobs I had here, or give up on this chance at starting over, so I opted to stay here. Which will make the move at the end of the month my seventh.
I wonder if I’ve made the right choice. Staying here instead of going back to Montreal. Sure, at my mother’s place I’d have my own bedroom again. Maybe even the basement as a whole. And I’d be back where my good friends are, instead of wondering if my best friend is still either my “best” or “friend.” I’d likely be able to get my old job back, and move again when I’ve rebuilt my nest egg, and deal with much more manageable rent and a far more socially open city.
Toronto is expensive. And I’ve discovered that everyone here has this “arms folded across their chest” attitude. Sure, I’ve made a couple friends, but through work or other people. Whenever I tried to make friends on my own, I’ve been met with polite conversation, but have yet to hang out with any of them. Besides the first meeting, I mean.
But I’m tired of starting over. Moving out of home was one. Moving in with the Morning Star was another. Kingston was too. And here I am now. Starting again. All beginnings, but no ends.
What am I doing? I honestly have no idea. I’m in a city where the only people who’d notice if I disappeared would wonder if that was the case a few days after the fact. I was alone in Kingston, but I’m lonely here.
Whelp, that got away from me. I’m going to end now before I let it sink in any further. So I’ll wrap up with the last line of dialogue in the Firefly series.
"Well, here I am."
^ Cannot be unseen.
However, Bill Cosby named him.
Is his first name Beezow or Beezow Doo-Doo?
This is something I don’t think I’ve talked about here before, but it’s on my mind. I have become very efficient at packing and moving my life. I only first moved out of home March or April of 2012. Since and including then, I have moved five times, across three cities and two provinces. This is my sixth move.
I’m in the middle of packing. Well, 80% done, just clothes and peripherals remain. Just before I came here, I was taking my photographs off the wall and gathering sticky tack. I had a flashback to when I was fourteen, when I was doing the exact same thing, but with clippings from Wizard Magazine, of comics and super heroes and movies. It made me think that no matter how much we change, some things never do. We may trade fantasies of adventures and super powers for memories and experiences of adventures actually had, or change the direction we’re traveling on, but who we are remains. I don’t think or feel that I’m the same person that I was ten years ago, but it’s pretty wild how much of that person is still in me.
Anyway, sixth move. My last home before making my own was Montreal, and I’ve made it to Toronto so far. It’s a big change. Been having a really hard time, but I think I’m handling it all pretty well. I miss my old froends, but the very few I’ve made so far have made a strong impact on me. I’m looking to stick around here for as long as I can. So much potential for me in this city, in so many ways, provided I can find a place to hang my hat.
But if everything goes according to plan, fourteen-year-old me would be proud. Writing again, and doing photography (it was just an idea back then), having a place to call home (exactly the way I want it), and solid plans and dreams for the future. Things may be rough, but I’ve hardened myself enough to be strong. I’m a machine. I’m half animatronic. I’m the Thominator.
Random aside; so sweet that Doctor Who is back, and Flash next month.
"Made ya look!"
I have never hit ‘reblog’ so fast in my life.
Got me everytime!]
Everyone needs this on their blog
REBLOG IT RIGHT NOW.
We ain’t never had a man like him.
OMG horse tornado