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(no subject) [Jun. 27th, 2009|04:34 am]
It's my birthday. Yay me! I was born! Whooooo!

So, exciting story:

I finished work at 10pm, got home about 11, had some leftover whisky, played online computer games, watched bad TV...I should have been in bed by 1 or 2, but it was just after 3am.

There's a knock at my door. I call out "Who is it" because a) I never just answer my door no matter what time it is, because it freaks me out, and b) I don't quite dare to pretend I'm asleep, because I'm suddenly, irrationally, panicked that I've been typing on my computer too loud and it's the landlord (who lives next door) come to tell me to keep it down (which is the beginning of another story, which is really to pointless to get into). No one answers so, still afraid it's the landlord, I wrap my bathrobe around me and answer the door.

Instead, it's Mark. Mark who? Mark, the neighbour who tried to help me move my couch out of my apartment a couple of weeks ago (a long and pointless story). He's a scrawny, older guy who I've seen around but never really talked to.

He's wasted, but his first words win me over: "Wanna smoke a joint?"

So I let him in.

My usual good judgement would protest, mainly because I hate people and social situations and once you've invited a neighbour into your house, you're suddenly required to invite them in all the time, and say hi to them when you pass, and ackowledge them and things. But it's been a while since I had pot, it's my birthday, and I've kind of been lonely in a really difficult-to-explain way.

Oh, so he was wearing a speedo and running shoes. And just came from Pride (so, maybe "solidarity" is part of why I let him in) and was smoking a cigarette that had about an inch and a half of ash.

The first few minutes of crazy guy Mark being my guest involved me trying to a) find something he could tap his ash into before it fell on my floor or (worse) my new furniture b) trying to get him to sit on the appropriate new furniture that I don't have to sleep on and c) being polite.

The ash fell on the floor, he sat on the furniture I wanted him to avoid, and I must have failed to be polite, too, because he then asked if I could so kindly provide an ashtray for my guest.

There was about 90 minutes of awkwardness that I'd love to describe in detail, but the basic story is he kept trying to hit on me, kept asking me if I was "married", when I said I had a boyfriend he'd keep asking me how long we've been dating, when I told him how long he would say "Oh, but he's not your HUSBAND! It's not like he's your HUSBAND!" At one point he lft, because I didn't have any cigarettes, and he came back wearing only a jock strap.

He tried to kiss me, to sit on my lap, to "hug" me in that special way. I was able to rebuff him with varying degrees of discomfort, and basically none of that really bothered me much (except for being polite....I hate not knowing how to be polite in a given situation, and it's really fucking uncomfortable to "politely" peel someone off of you when he's all but naked and you've spent the night pulling your bathrobe tighter and tighter around yourself for protection), but what bothered me is that he started to become an angry drunk around one particular issue.

Crazy Mark's points were threefold: 1) I'm not really in love with the boyfriend. 2) The fact that I'm in a long-term relationship shows that I don't love myself and I'm not really happy. 3) I should sleep with him.

I could handle this, but after about 90 minutes of putting up with it, he started to get fixated on how I lived. Why did I live -here-, he kept asking, if I had a HUSBAND? Who lives -here- if they're legitimately in love?

I live in a boarding house, basically, and you don't have to read all that far back here to know that a boarding house is 3 steps up from some of the places I HAVE lived. I've -struggled- to put something like a life together, and while I don't really parade that around these days (maybe a bit on this blog), it's a point that I'm -very- sensitive about.

I am NOT going to defend my living arrangements and my life to some asshole who knocked on my door at 3am and dares to tell me I'm not "happy". Who spent more than an hour telling me that the man I love is an asshole, and NOT EVEN FRICKEN ROLLING THAT JOINT!

So, after he'd started demanding that I "go and stay with your HUSBAND! If you're in love why aren't you with your HUSBAND!" I politely asked him to leave.

I said, "Mark, I think it's time that I ask you to leave."

He pretended not to hear, so I stood up and said "Mark, I am politely asking you to leave." (by putting "politely" into my sentence, I showed how classy I am)

He protested and tried to act hurt. I interrupted and said, "Mark, you came to my door at 3 in the morning, and while I could have shut the door in your face, I instead invited you in and gave you a drink. I am now asking you to leave."

"Can I at least have a drink?"

"I gave you a drink already. Now you have to go."

He fumbled with his lighter and cigarette pack, and then stormed out, as if I'd offended him more than he'd been offended in his life.

-This- is why I prefer to live as a recluse.
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(no subject) [May. 25th, 2009|09:23 am]
So last Tuesday I went clothes shopping, mainly because I'm heading back to Halifax for a week, and it's a proven fact that if I look like I have my act together, my parents are 200% more bearable, and "new, nice clothes" falls under their estimation of "having one's act together."

The attempt, though, was pretty demoralising. I'm back to being my Biggest Size Ever, the waist size that I was at around 8-9 years ago when I first moved to Toronto. That, plus, I'm the heaviest I've ever been in my life.

None of the clothes I tried on would fit, except for an over-sized pair of shorts that made me look like somebody's granddad. There's kind of a threshold in clothes sizes where manufacturers stop making things that look good, and I've passed that threshold.

I don't think I'm being over dramatic when I say that I was pretty crushed. I'm not surprised, really, because with the exception of that boot camp thing in March (I dropped out halfway through April) and some sporadic trips to the gym, this past year has been over-full with couch-sitting, pizza-delivering, and beer-swilling. I've been feeling pretty ugly and gross, on a subliminal level, but the clothing experience brought it home.

So, for this last week I've been on a mission. I've done between 60 and 90 minutes of physical activity every day, and I've been eating healthy food (including making nice salads to take to work). I've quit drinking (I had 2 glasses of wine with the boyfriend saturday night, but that was it). I've been getting to bed early, and getting full nights of sleep.

Short-term, I'm going to take another stab at shopping tomorrow, in the (probably futile) hope that I may have gone down 1 pant size so that I can actually fit into something other than the granddad shorts.

Long-term, my 32nd birthday (and gay pride) are at the end of June. Other than 1 day in Halifax (next friday), I'm off the booze until then. I'm going to keep up the excercise with the goal of getting 90 minutes of activity (any activity) a day. If I can keep it up until the end of the month, maybe I can keep it up to the end of the summer, and maybe the end of the year.

I hope so. I don't really want to be miserable and back to hating my body like I did when I was younger, but I'm kind of there right now. I have to find ways to make a healthy lifestyle sustainable for me, because this unhealthy one isn't working, either.
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(no subject) [Apr. 28th, 2009|12:29 am]
Been fighting that good ol' anxiety again, lately. Primarily it's so far kept me from actually going to a new rugby club practice. I'm fine until two days or so before the practice and then I can feel the anxiety levels rising. So far, I've "napped through" 2 practices. Napping is a great avoidance technique, in case anyone is interested. You get to avoid the event AND you get to be incredibly well-rested. The only down side is that you miss a lot when you sleep the same hours as a cat.

Tomorrow I intend to break the rugby practice cycle and actually go. It's going to suck for a bit, and I'm going to feel awkward and out of shape and ugly and too-gay-for-the-straights, but I've got to do it. I don't grow except through challenge, right?

In infinitely better news, it looks like I'll be going camping again this May. I love camping, even if it is in a very polished gay campground with an actual nightclub and every possible facility you could possibly need. There's just something awesome about sleeping in a tent and waking up at dawn and cooking everything with an open flame. Mmmmm...bonfires....
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(no subject) [Apr. 20th, 2009|12:29 pm]
Happy 420 day everyone!
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(no subject) [Apr. 10th, 2009|02:59 am]
So, I'm up late reading one of the most awesomest awesome books in the history of awesome, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, by Jane Austin and Seth Grahame-Smith.

A snippet:

"[Elizabeth] said she would amuse herself for the short time she could stay below, with a book. Mr Hurst looked at her with astonishment.

"'Do you prefer reading to cards?' said he; 'that is rather singular.'

"'I prefer a great many things to cards, Mr Hurst,' said Elizabeth; 'Not the least of which is the sensation of a newly sharpened blade as it punctures the round belly of a man.'

"Mr Hurst was silent for the remainder of the evening."
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(no subject) [Apr. 1st, 2009|08:42 am]
Boot camp continues to kick my ass, however I'm pretty sure that this session (my 2nd) is a little bit easier than the first.

In other news, there's been tons of work drama, and I dodged a bullet by not getting fired, although everyone's schedules have changed and at best I'll be able to make only half of any rugby practices, and I -still- can't register for any evening courses becuse my evenings have work in them. I also get to see the bf less frequently, which sucks. Once or twice a week isn't quite enough for me, but we're either working and/or tired so that it's impractical to see each other more than that.

Other than work and boot-camp fatigue, my life is incredibly uneventful, which is a good thing. It's how I like it. I still have bouts of feeling like everything is about to crumble around me, so I need to keep working on building some sort of a safety net (which, at this point, will likely be wiped out when I do my taxes) so that I don't have to worry so much...

I imagine, though, that if things can continue ons they are for another year or so, I might actually be able to have hopes and dreams and goals and things. Yippee.
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(no subject) [Mar. 27th, 2009|08:34 am]
So today was results day at the fitness bootcamp thing I've been doing the last 4 weeks. I've pretty much got better numbers on everything, so here, for your reading pleasre, are my before nd after assessment results:

March 2:

Measurements

Weight: 266.2
Body fat%: 38.5
Biceps, relaxed arm: R: 13.5 L: 14.5
Biceps, flexed arm: R: 15.5 L 15
Chest (at neeples): 15.5, which I assume is the digits transposed, should be 51.5
Waist (under floating rib): 49
Pant size (actually just under belly button): 49.5
Hips (largest part of ass): 50.5
Thighs: R: 22.5 L: 23
Calves: R: 16 L: 16

Fit Test

Pushups in 60 second: 34
V-hold (sit on ass with legs and torso in air): 20 seconds
Plank hold: 1 minute
Squat Hold: 52 seconds
Sprints (time for 4 laps): 40 seconds

Comments: My biggest worry is the fat%, as that's a pretty large number and is probably my biggest concern healthwise. Beyond that, it was kind of depressing to know that I'm barrel-shaped.

And now, the results from today...

March 27

Measurements

Weight: 264 (loss of 2.2)
Body Fat %: 36.1 (loss of 2.4%)
Biceps, relaxed arm: R: 14 (+.5) L: 14.5 (+0)
Biceps, flexed arm: R: 15.5 (+0) L 15.5 (+.5)
Chest (at neeples): 49 (-2.5)
Waist (under floating rib): 48 (-1)
Pant size (actually just under belly button): 49 (-.5)
Hips (largest part of ass): 49.5 (-1)
Thighs: R: 23 (+.5) L: 23.5 (+.5)
Calves: R: 17 (+1) L: 16.5 (+.5)

Fit Test

Pushups in 60 second: 40 (+6)
V-hold (sit on ass with legs and torso in air): 53 seconds (+33s)
Plank hold: 1 minute 27 seconds (+27s)
Squat Hold: 1 minute 13 seconds (+21s)
Sprints (time for 4 laps): 37 seconds (-3s)

Comments: I'm still barrel shaped, but it's a slightly smaller barrel. Over-all I'm happy enough to pay for another 4 weeks of this. This time I'm going to make some minor changes to diet, mainly just by trying to keep a food log and to maybe eat a little bit healthier (I've cut down on delivery food, but I shouldn't be eating as much "boxed" and pre-made dinners as I do). I'm -really- glad to see that the body fat went down, and I think that if I do keep my diet in check, I may be able to get it down another 3 points by the end of April, so that will be my goal.

Now, I'm going to have a nap before going to work.
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(no subject) [Mar. 13th, 2009|11:38 pm]
I just want to commemorate today as the day that I passed the $1000 mark with my savings. This is probably the first time in my life where I had a personal savings amount in the 4 digits.

I'm almost 32 years old, so that's kind of shameful. Most of the people I was friends with in high school now have houses, families, investments....they're probably each worth a few hundred thousand on paper.

So this is kind of a bitter-sweet accomplishment, I guess. On the bitter side, I can look back on my life and, regardless of where stuff beyond my control went wrong, I made choices that I knew better but took the wrong road anyway. According to what I expected when I was 14, I should be a neurosurgeon earning several hundred thousand a year by now. Even more modestly, I could have been a degree-holder, working in a profession, not having spent tens of thousands of dollars on booze*, and having a retirement plan, a savings plan, and who knows what else.

On the sweet side, though...

It's not necessarily "sweet", because I can feel how thin that membrane between "savings" and "screwed up" is, but...for the first time in my adult life I am not living paycheque-to-paycheque. I have, if I live like a monk, an honest month between a last paycheque and having nothing at all.

I am desperate for that level of security. I've lived hand-to-mouth, on the charity of others. I'm not sure if I can do that again. I hated myself. Hated myself.

I don't need millions of dollars or a comfortable life. What I need is financial security. I'm pretty much within the pay-range that I think I could be happy with (well, at the low, low end of such a range). All I need is the assurance that I won't ever need to sleep on friends' couches again.

And today - even though there's no one else I know who will quite understand - I've earned one luxury I haven't had in about 5 or 6 years: a sense of relief, of financial safety. If even for a month.





*It has to be in this area of magnitude. There have been years of my life where I spent $100-$150 a week on alcohol, and, aside from the 14 months where I wasn't drinking, I've probably spent minimum $30 a week on booze even when I was being "good".
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(no subject) [Mar. 8th, 2009|08:32 pm]
This is a part of that whole "time speeding up" thing, I guess. The whole thing with Dave passing...being at his funeral...seeing people who matter so much to me...

It's almost spring now, and the summer will fly by, and it'll be fall again, and who knows where I'll be then.

I want to drink up everything I can about my life. I want to appreciate as much about it as I can.
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(no subject) [Mar. 6th, 2009|06:05 am]
I'm sure I'm the biggest guy on the whole subway who's carrying a yoga mat. Also, when you carry a yoga mat, complete strangers will ask you where you do yoga. I advise not saying "Nowhere, you pansy-assed loser." (I didn't say that)

For all of this hassle (including the getting up early), I better be awesome by the end of March.
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(no subject) [Mar. 4th, 2009|06:08 am]
Stupid boot camp making me get up at stupid made-up hours that no one's ever even heard of.
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(no subject) [Mar. 2nd, 2009|05:26 pm]
Today was day one at a body bootcamp for me. It kicked my ass to the point where I was almost puking at the end. If I was a mysogynist, I might be concerned that the 5 women in the class were all better than me, and none of them ran to the bathroom. But then, I'm carrying about 100lbs more than the heaviest of them, so there.

The bad news is that I'm shaped like a barrel (my measurements are pretty much 50" around at chest, belly, hips), and I'm close to 40% body fat, which is gross, but not unexpected. We'll re-measure at the end of 4 weeks.

At the very least, I'm hoping it has me in better condition for when the rugby season starts.
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(no subject) [Mar. 1st, 2009|07:45 pm]
The founder of Muddy York RFC just passed away. No word of when the funeral is, but I plan to go. We'd known he was sick (he had a brain tumour), and I had wanted to visit him at the hospital, but never got around to it. Crappy cliche that that is.
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(no subject) [Feb. 24th, 2009|11:51 pm]
Argh. I guess this is life...the last little while it's been feeling like verything is happening while nothing is actually happening. For example, today:

I woke up too early, before the alarm went off, so I fiddled with the internet and played a poker game I've downloaded onto my phone while I waited to feel sleepy enough to sleep. Fell asleep, was having the beginning of what might have been an interesting dream (or at least an enjoyable one...the spring point was about how warm I was holding my pillow (I'm a pillow-holder when I sleep) under the blankets, but there was a lot of dream-feelings that things were about to get totally weird and awesome), and then the alarm went off.

I listened to the radio while I did a load of dishes and ate breakfast and surfed the 'net. No new porn, no new television show recaps. I got my gym stuff together, mostly by spraying the un-laundered stuff with febreze and stuffing everything into my backpack. I got my lunch together, filled up a water bottle. Brushed my teeth - didn't floss, even though I thought about it, but I was running late - grabbed the bag of garbage to put in the bin.

I stopped at the door and re-read the sign about my landlord's death, double-checked the time of the funeral, re-read the newly posted public transit directions to get there. Dumped the garbage in the bin.

It was cold, and so I thought, while walking to the streetcar stop, about how I kind of still like the cold air even though I'm pretty fed up with winter right now. I looked at where the old Asian people usually congregate to do their tai chi or whatever and fantasized about the first Official Nice Day when they would all return and I'd get to watch them again.

On the subway, I was stuck next to a hyper-active kid of 8 or 10 who could not for the life of him stop fidgetting and bumping into everyone, including me. I tried to pretend to be tolerant. No one else in his family seemed to notice that he needed to be cut off from sugar.

Halfway to work, the subway stopped and announced that we all had to get out and change trains. So we all got out (hyoer-active child long gone by this point) and waited and changed trains.

I had a good workout, legs, which I always like because I'm good at working out my legs and it makes me feel strong. The gym played a bunch of chick-rock songs, like Avril Lavigne, Gwen Stefani, Pink, and some singer who I'm sure sang "Lady Marmelade" for Moulin Rouge. They;'ve done the same mix with the same songs in the same order before, but that's okay. I left feeling awesome from the leg workout.

I show up at work and discover that one of my coworkers called in sick, 3 work days after her week-and-half vacation in Barbados (or something), so...whatever.

Work was pretty much a non-stop run of stupid questions being asked over and over and over again. I remember quite a few details of the few hours before and after work, but almost nothing from the 10 hours at work, except that it was a struggle to keep a good mood. I got upset at a co-worker (I didn't show it) because he is essentially a goody-goody, which annoys me about myself, because I grew up as a goody-goody and I've intentionally convinced myself to believe that no one is ever completely good all the time.

Someone let me in front of them at the grocery store line after work, because I only had one item.

On the subway there was ANOTHER kid who's had too much sugar. She kept playing with her video game and rocking back and forth obnoxiously even after her mom took the video game away. She might have been 10. Her 4 year old brother was having a tantrum. I could not look at their mother, because I was being irrationally annoyed by those children and their inability to be still for 30 seconds.

Later on the subway, I saw Nikki Payne, a comedienne who I went to high school with. A few years ago I saw her while she was walking her dog and I talked to her, and felt like a total tool, so this time I just stood within a foot of her, rehearsing possible ways to say "Hi, we went to high school together, you're my favourite Canadian celebrity, I think you're hillarious, and I only want you to feel flattered and not creeped out or annoyed by this attention," without making her feel creeped out or annoyed. I got off the subway before she did, without saying anything.

I came home and after a while watched Project Runway: Canada while talking with my boyfriend over the phone, and then, after worrying a bit about the funeral tomorrow, I sat down to write this.

I feel like I've only scratched the surface of what happened today (work actually had a lot more to it: free chocolate cake, several morons, chatting with a co-worker about the Watchmen movie and the comic book I'm reading, being a hero-of-the-week for getting a woman's pay to go through, and thoughts about the crappy economy), and not every day is like this, but more and more it feels like there are a billion things going on, wonderful and horrible and utterly mundane, and I'm sometimes kind of paralyzed in awe of that.

And tomorrow I have an actual funeral to go to, which is about Death, which is a pretty critical part of Life, which means I should probably pay attention, right?
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(no subject) [Feb. 21st, 2009|08:56 pm]
Guys, I have -totally- not been reading anyone's LJ posts lately. I'm horrible. I promise to do better/I hope things are well with y'all.

On the subject of my late landlord (I guess that's better than late rent?...bad joke...) I wasn't sure if I should go to the funeral. I wanted to, but I'm kind of shy and awkward, and also it's happening further north than the subway goes. But today there was a badly-handwritten note in the lobby, taped to the wall, from someone who wants to go but has no ride. I'm going to write my own note and offer to pay gas for me and the ride-less guy. I don't know if my landlord has any family, but if he does, I want them to know that he was appreciated and cared about. If he doesn't, then I want to be at his funeral to be his family.

The funeral is Wednesday. I'll miss half a day of work, but that's okay.
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(no subject) [Feb. 18th, 2009|09:07 pm]
Today when I got home from work, there was a note on the main door to tell us that our landlord has died. It's kind of unexpected. I wasn't very close to Wayne, but I think he may have been one of my favourite landlords (and I've had a few). He was a short, round man with wispy, white and balding hair, who smiled a lot, and always said hi to me when I would pass him. He never gave me trouble when I was late on the rent, never had a negative thing to say to me. He took a real chance on me a little over 2 years ago when I moved in, after 8 months of crazy and with no references to speak of. He didn't even ask me to pay my deposit all at once. He was (or friends of his were) a big pot head, which was great when I went through my big stoner phase: I never worried about him complaining about the smell.

The last couple of months, though, when I stopped by to pay rent or to talk with him, he seemed incredibly out of it. I assumed he was drunk, and he may have been. I don't know if it was a cause or an effect of his death. I worried about him.

I don't know him well enough to be very upset, but he was a good person, someone who I would have been happy to call a friend. I'll miss him.
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(no subject) [Feb. 15th, 2009|08:09 pm]
A few days late...it -does- make sense, in a stupid way.

I've now spent a full quarter of my life in Toronto, away from family, away from the friends I made in the first 3 quarters of my life...I came here on a leap of faith, with 3 large boxes of clothes and books, and that's it...

A -HUGE- part of what helped me to survive here has been the Muddy York crew. They were my first friends here. Some of them were my first -best- friends here. I broke down completely, and they were there for me. There were times when these people were -literally- between me and the streets.

The fact that I could have ended up there...on the streets, or homeless (I mean, I was homeless, I guess, once...but I could have shown up at any of half a dozen peoples' doorsteps and they would have given me a couch or a cot or something)... I could have ended up there because of stupid shit...but I didn't.

I've had enough people tell me that I should be more grateful to know that I don't show gratitude enough. But there's some stuff that is so big, that I can't even start to figure out how to show how thankful I am. I'll probably never be in a position to give those people back what they gave to me. I can't even start.

I know that I've lost friendships because I didn't pay back what was given to me, but I really, really don't know how to fix those friendships. I know that for all of them, if someone could have told me what I would lose, I wouldn't make the same choices that I did.

So, at least a portion of the anger I feel about my rugby team, about the emails, and all of that, is anger at myself. Probably a huge portion. Possibly most of it.

I mean, I know that part of why reading those emails makes me so angry is because I'm not a part of this thing that literally saved my life, saved -ME-, anymore, and it still goes on, as if nothing happened. It's when I asked someone - my best friend in this city - if we were still friends and he said no, we weren't, and then he walked away.

I'm going through a phase where it's critically important to me that I be 100% self-sufficient, where I don't need anyone else's help, for anything. And for some reason, I'm doing that by keeping myself from connecting with just about anyone.

So, to recap: give me 30 hours without sleep and 6 strong beer, and I'll type anything.

(I'm pretty sure that that's all being sincere...)
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(no subject) [Feb. 11th, 2009|03:57 am]
Maybe some of the Muddy York anger I have comes from ....

Fuck. I don't know. I just get really angry reading Muddy York emails. It doesn't make sense.
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(no subject) [Feb. 6th, 2009|02:10 am]
Jesus. My ancient and aged father is now on facebook. So's his closest brother. There are now enough familial francophones online that I might have to actually write in french. I can't even do the "reclusive gay relative" thing, because one of my cousins is totally the "hot, young gay french-canadian" on facebook. Dammit.
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(no subject) [Jan. 3rd, 2009|11:02 pm]
In my experience, there are few things as comforting and heart-warming as a full cupboard. I have a very, very tiny cupboard, but it's currently full. I am therefore comforted and heartwarmed.

I want, so much, for 2009 to be the year that I figure out security. I want to stop being afraid that everything will fall out from under me (quite possibly because of my own issues/idiocy) and I'll be screwed. I want to be ready to support my parents one day (one day far, far in the future, because I'm still in extreme denial about that possibility) should they happen to fall ill (which will not happen, because I am in extreme denial and it kind of sucks that this denial takes more and more effort to maintain).

Right now, I have food in the cupboard, the rent is paid, I have a decent job, and I have something in my savings account. There have been times when I had none of those.

I know I'm a couple of months late, but I am very thankful.
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