Open & Vulnerable

I’ve taken the opportunity to chat with a few people, and I’d like to think I’m making some progress.  I met up with my mom on Wednesday and she sent me an email since then asking me if I can make it to join her for swimming next Wednesday.  She’s worried I’m not happy, and I’m not.  I’m content, but not happy.

I talked to my younger brother yesterday – we went out for dinner.  He asked me to walk him to work, but I begged off because it was in the opposite direction from heading home.  Looking back, I should’ve just walked him to work because I think he just wanted to keep talking.

I’ve been listening to some interesting music these days, stuff I haven’t pulled out of storage in a while: Dave Matthews Band, Ani Difranco, Ben Harper, all that hippie-dippy stuff I used to be into.  I don’t really broadcast it that I listen to this stuff because it detracts from the public image and reputation I have for myself but also because it’s like my little secret.  The music, nature, sunny days spent alone with a notebook – these are my centres for healing.  It’s my way of turning in on myself and gaining some introspective analysis.

I need a job.  Not just any job, not just a job I can quit next week or can blow off by choosing not to come in – I want a real job again.  I need some stability in my life, even if it’s just for a few months, because I need to figure out what I’m going to do with my life, and it’s a lot easier to take time to do that when you’re not freaking out about where you’re going to borrow hundreds of dollars from to pay your rent and bills (which is the situation I’m currently in).  I’ve determined that I need a job that will last me until at least September, when I might go back to school, or perhaps January, when I might leave for Europe.  Either way, I need a stable office job that I can hold onto through the summer and all of Pride weekend.

But until that job comes in, I’m listening to my hippie-dippy music, sitting in the park, writing in my notebook on sunny days.