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
Monday, August 24, 2009
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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