So my attempt at saving any substantial amount of money from this paycheck has been radically unsuccessful. For a minute I almost thought I’d be able to put away at least $100, but low and behold, the weekend rolled in and brought with it the opportunity for dancing, drinks, and the irresistible urge to throw away money with complete frivolity. It’s Tuesday now, next paycheck doesn’t come in until Friday, I have no food, only 16 cigarettes, and 3 days to struggle through.
I really wasn’t intending on having an intense partying weekend, but my Friday night was slightly traumatizing, so Saturday I did my absolute best to forget it. Friday, I ended up soberly sleeping with the creepy yoga teacher when I went to get my bracelet back from him. Felt like shit after, and I’m realizing even more about my issues with men. For some reason I really can’t allow myself to say no. Not that he forced himself on me at all, and I did enjoy myself during, but as I made my way over there with a clear head, I told myself that under no circumstance was I going to sleep with him. I’m constantly breaking promises to myself when it comes to sex, and I’m going to try harder not to give my power away to men so easily. They should have to work a bit to get it, right? As soon as it was over I felt tears coming on, and all I could think of was the fact that I was lying next to the wrong man. I knew that the connection just wasn’t there like it was with my heat wave lover. I miss that intense, magical connection, and I really don’t want to settle for anything less. You can’t force that kind of thing. It’s either there, or it’s not. I made an excuse and left right away, and cried all the way home.
My careless weekend ways didn’t only affect my financial circumstances, but also my family relationships. I was meant to help my sister move into her new apartment Sunday afternoon, but as I didn’t go to sleep until 11 AM that morning, I slept through it. Needless to say, she wasn’t thrilled. Especially since I bailed on brunch last weekend with her and my mom for the same reason.
I need to start taking this a bit more seriously, and somehow resist the urge to go out and party whenever I have the chance. If I continue on at this rate, I won’t even be able to make rent, let alone travel the world. I think if I start researching places to go, and weird, wonderful things to do in odd places, I might find some more motivation. Any and all ideas are welcome.
“It is the beginning of that magic vibration that carries the lovers from the world of weights and measures into the world of dreams and revelations.”
-Kahlil Gibran
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Day 11: $248.87
Monday morning arrived once again and I found myself still unable to walk properly after the weekend. This money saving thing is harder than expected. I spent about 200 dollars over the weekend. Not a great start. But it was definitely worth it.
My weekend began last Wednesday. There was a fabulous engagement party at the house I'm staying at. Great people, great food, great wine. All in all, a relatively tame night though. Thursday was reggae night and perhaps I went a bit over the top. I hadn’t been out for almost a month, and so I might have gone to excess. I didn’t make it home that night, and instead spent the night with a pseudo-spiritual yoga instructor. The whole scenario was fairly laughable. Funny how men can think they have you totally duped. His charade was completely unnecessary seeing as I would have slept with him anyway. I hadn’t had sex in a 3 weeks and I just wanted a bit of fun. If anything, his whole “spiritually evolved” act was having the exact opposite effect that he was going for.
The point is, I went kind of overboard with him, as I tend to do, and let him fuck me in places I generally don’t, and now it hurts to sit, stand, walk, move….. When I left in the morning he gave me his card (people actually do that?) and I left with absolutely no intention of ever seeing him again. I wanted a little fun; I got it, no need to see more of him. So now of course, he wants to see me again.
The thing is, if I was the one pursuing him, he would want nothing to do with me and would be all about it just being a one night thing. I’m pretty sure that’s the kind of scenario he’s accustomed to. So because I didn’t call or make any effort to contact him, he’s now decided we should probably see each other again. He added me on Facebook, sent me a message about how he enjoyed our night together, what I would like to see happen, and some other bullshit about our “connection.” The shitty thing is, I left my bracelet at his place so I actually need to see him to get it back. That should be interesting.
I learned my lesson though. I had just been talking about how I wasn’t going to sleep with men I don’t know all the time, and I wasn’t going to give away my power so easily. I experienced magic this summer more intensely than I ever have with someone, and now I don’t want to settle for anything less than magic. But alcohol and horniness won out that night, and my punishment is a very sore ass. Fitting.
Friday night was amazing. I went dubstepping with great people in what is basically a cave under the city. Dirty, sweaty, grimy, great. Got home at 6 am. Totally worth it.
I had to leave work early on Monday and taxi home because it hurt too much to walk. And I didn’t go to work Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday for the same reason. Although I did go to a party Tuesday night, where I had the opportunity for sex, and wanted it, but I restrained myself and I’m feeling pretty proud about that.
Not sure what this weekend has in store yet….Full moon is coming soon, and it’s in my sign. There’s a bit of a heat wave thing happening too. Last time there was a full moon and a heat wave life got incredibly magical and beautiful. Changed everything in a way. Maybe I can expect a little more of that.
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.
Henry David Thoreau
My weekend began last Wednesday. There was a fabulous engagement party at the house I'm staying at. Great people, great food, great wine. All in all, a relatively tame night though. Thursday was reggae night and perhaps I went a bit over the top. I hadn’t been out for almost a month, and so I might have gone to excess. I didn’t make it home that night, and instead spent the night with a pseudo-spiritual yoga instructor. The whole scenario was fairly laughable. Funny how men can think they have you totally duped. His charade was completely unnecessary seeing as I would have slept with him anyway. I hadn’t had sex in a 3 weeks and I just wanted a bit of fun. If anything, his whole “spiritually evolved” act was having the exact opposite effect that he was going for.
The point is, I went kind of overboard with him, as I tend to do, and let him fuck me in places I generally don’t, and now it hurts to sit, stand, walk, move….. When I left in the morning he gave me his card (people actually do that?) and I left with absolutely no intention of ever seeing him again. I wanted a little fun; I got it, no need to see more of him. So now of course, he wants to see me again.
The thing is, if I was the one pursuing him, he would want nothing to do with me and would be all about it just being a one night thing. I’m pretty sure that’s the kind of scenario he’s accustomed to. So because I didn’t call or make any effort to contact him, he’s now decided we should probably see each other again. He added me on Facebook, sent me a message about how he enjoyed our night together, what I would like to see happen, and some other bullshit about our “connection.” The shitty thing is, I left my bracelet at his place so I actually need to see him to get it back. That should be interesting.
I learned my lesson though. I had just been talking about how I wasn’t going to sleep with men I don’t know all the time, and I wasn’t going to give away my power so easily. I experienced magic this summer more intensely than I ever have with someone, and now I don’t want to settle for anything less than magic. But alcohol and horniness won out that night, and my punishment is a very sore ass. Fitting.
Friday night was amazing. I went dubstepping with great people in what is basically a cave under the city. Dirty, sweaty, grimy, great. Got home at 6 am. Totally worth it.
I had to leave work early on Monday and taxi home because it hurt too much to walk. And I didn’t go to work Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday for the same reason. Although I did go to a party Tuesday night, where I had the opportunity for sex, and wanted it, but I restrained myself and I’m feeling pretty proud about that.
Not sure what this weekend has in store yet….Full moon is coming soon, and it’s in my sign. There’s a bit of a heat wave thing happening too. Last time there was a full moon and a heat wave life got incredibly magical and beautiful. Changed everything in a way. Maybe I can expect a little more of that.
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.
Henry David Thoreau
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Day 1: 43 cents
I've spent the last ten months valiantly trying to get my life put back together.
When I was 19 I dropped out of university on a whim, but sensing that there was something more out there for me. In one of my many spur of the moment decisions, that are never even remotely thought through, I set off for London to work as an aupair. I had 200 pounds (that my dad gave me), no experience in childcare, and knew absolutely no one on that side of the ocean. It was brilliant. I enjoyed my time in London so much, but the time came to move on. Not that I was bored with London, because just like Samuel Johnson famously said "when a man is tired of London he is tired of life." So, it wasn't really that I was tired of London, but I was getting antsy.
I had done a bit of traveling for work and otherwise while I was staying in London. I had been skiing in Austria with the family I worked for, I had celebrated my 20th birthday making love to a charming French bartender under the bright Parisian lights, I had been on a weekend escapade to Oxford where I thought I would expand my mind and broaden my knowledge, but where I instead ended up having a threesome with 2 Belgian men one night, and sex on a church lawn with a fellow Canadian the next. I had spent a week in the south of France where I enjoyed a romantic evening of skinny dipping, beer, pizza and sex on the beach with a 35 year old French gardener. All of these were wonderfully fun, and highly inappropriate. But I wanted another adventure to completely shock my system. I wanted to feel that terrifying exhilaration I had felt when I first set off for London. And with that I set off for Spain to walk 800 kilometers across the country completely unprepared.
I could write about the Camino (the pilgrimage across Spain) for a lifetime. I could tell you about how I missed my flight from London on the way there, and had to spend the night in a deserted French town outside on the street. I could tell you about how people would actually stop me on the street to take pictures of my feet because my blisters were so bad. I could tell you about the time I had sex in a church stairwell with a German man, or the time I slept with a Spanish man in a bar bathroom, or the Englishman in a hostel in Pamplona, or the Croatian guy who got us a hotel in Leon only to set off into the night when he found out about the Spaniard. Really, when I set off to walk to Camino I thought it would be a wonderful opportunity for me to live a pure life. What sort of trouble could I really get into on an ancient pilgrimage? But trouble seems to stalk me no matter where I go or what I'm doing.
I returned to Canada in November 2008, after having missed my flight from London to Canada and spending 2 days in 3 of London's airports with absolutely no money. I couldn't get from Gatwick to Heathrow and ended up sitting in the middle of the airport on my backpack crying until a nice British couple offered to give me a ride to Heathrow. They were some of the most kind and genrous people I have ever met. They bought me some water, gave me some fruit and crackers, and 5 pounds to buy breakfast in the morning.
When I got back to Canada I was unemployed for 5 months (not totally true. I did work at a coffee shop for 2 hours), and living in my Grandmother's basement. That is until she kicked me out. The reason? Apparently I was smoking crack in her basement. I can assure you, I was not.
And that is how I came to find myself homeless and only working parttime. Thankfully I have wonderful people in my life that let me crash on their couches or floors. It's now been five months since I've been kicked out, and I still don't have a place of my own. I've finally found full time work (oddly enough it's the same job I had before I set off to London) and I'm looking for an apartment for October. Everything is right on track. Finally, some stability in my life.
So it's no wonder I'm bored. 3 weeks into my job and I want another advenutre. Bigger this time. But I'm aware that if I want to go bigger it's going to take some time. I figure I can set off on my trip around the world in 2 and half years.
With a grand total of 43 cents in my bank account I've decided it's time to start saving up. Giving up lattes, eating out, and reducing the amount of cigarettes I smoke. I hope by gradually limiting myself I'll be able to quit.
So it begins. I have no money and no idea where I want to go. I want to see all the beauty there is out there and have all kinds of experiences, good and bad.
"For the eternal soul is never contented; it ever seeks exaltation." - Khalil Gibran.
When I was 19 I dropped out of university on a whim, but sensing that there was something more out there for me. In one of my many spur of the moment decisions, that are never even remotely thought through, I set off for London to work as an aupair. I had 200 pounds (that my dad gave me), no experience in childcare, and knew absolutely no one on that side of the ocean. It was brilliant. I enjoyed my time in London so much, but the time came to move on. Not that I was bored with London, because just like Samuel Johnson famously said "when a man is tired of London he is tired of life." So, it wasn't really that I was tired of London, but I was getting antsy.
I had done a bit of traveling for work and otherwise while I was staying in London. I had been skiing in Austria with the family I worked for, I had celebrated my 20th birthday making love to a charming French bartender under the bright Parisian lights, I had been on a weekend escapade to Oxford where I thought I would expand my mind and broaden my knowledge, but where I instead ended up having a threesome with 2 Belgian men one night, and sex on a church lawn with a fellow Canadian the next. I had spent a week in the south of France where I enjoyed a romantic evening of skinny dipping, beer, pizza and sex on the beach with a 35 year old French gardener. All of these were wonderfully fun, and highly inappropriate. But I wanted another adventure to completely shock my system. I wanted to feel that terrifying exhilaration I had felt when I first set off for London. And with that I set off for Spain to walk 800 kilometers across the country completely unprepared.
I could write about the Camino (the pilgrimage across Spain) for a lifetime. I could tell you about how I missed my flight from London on the way there, and had to spend the night in a deserted French town outside on the street. I could tell you about how people would actually stop me on the street to take pictures of my feet because my blisters were so bad. I could tell you about the time I had sex in a church stairwell with a German man, or the time I slept with a Spanish man in a bar bathroom, or the Englishman in a hostel in Pamplona, or the Croatian guy who got us a hotel in Leon only to set off into the night when he found out about the Spaniard. Really, when I set off to walk to Camino I thought it would be a wonderful opportunity for me to live a pure life. What sort of trouble could I really get into on an ancient pilgrimage? But trouble seems to stalk me no matter where I go or what I'm doing.
I returned to Canada in November 2008, after having missed my flight from London to Canada and spending 2 days in 3 of London's airports with absolutely no money. I couldn't get from Gatwick to Heathrow and ended up sitting in the middle of the airport on my backpack crying until a nice British couple offered to give me a ride to Heathrow. They were some of the most kind and genrous people I have ever met. They bought me some water, gave me some fruit and crackers, and 5 pounds to buy breakfast in the morning.
When I got back to Canada I was unemployed for 5 months (not totally true. I did work at a coffee shop for 2 hours), and living in my Grandmother's basement. That is until she kicked me out. The reason? Apparently I was smoking crack in her basement. I can assure you, I was not.
And that is how I came to find myself homeless and only working parttime. Thankfully I have wonderful people in my life that let me crash on their couches or floors. It's now been five months since I've been kicked out, and I still don't have a place of my own. I've finally found full time work (oddly enough it's the same job I had before I set off to London) and I'm looking for an apartment for October. Everything is right on track. Finally, some stability in my life.
So it's no wonder I'm bored. 3 weeks into my job and I want another advenutre. Bigger this time. But I'm aware that if I want to go bigger it's going to take some time. I figure I can set off on my trip around the world in 2 and half years.
With a grand total of 43 cents in my bank account I've decided it's time to start saving up. Giving up lattes, eating out, and reducing the amount of cigarettes I smoke. I hope by gradually limiting myself I'll be able to quit.
So it begins. I have no money and no idea where I want to go. I want to see all the beauty there is out there and have all kinds of experiences, good and bad.
"For the eternal soul is never contented; it ever seeks exaltation." - Khalil Gibran.
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