“I want much more than this provincial life.”

Hath spring befallen our fair city? What a day it was. Bright sun, the mercury sitting solidly at ten degrees. The perfect day to go out and apply for employment. So with resume in hand I took to the streets with a sparkle in my tooth and a dollar sign in my eyes. In my search for a parking spot, as per usual, I got lost and found myself in the famed James Bay area. MY GOD! ‘Tis a server’s paradise. Why has no one told me about this place!? Brunch buffets and surf’n’turf specials aplenty! The streets are practically lined with niche cafes, tapa bars, and steakhouses all poised to take proper advantage of the throngs of tourists that overtake our provinces capital. Not to mention the gay population and those crazy Red Hat women. The streets wreak of brine and dead fish. Not rooten fish, mind, just dead. It was amazing. It made me remember how lucky I am to live in this city. Today the streets that were once trodden by Emily Carr and Nelly Furtado were trodden by myself, and I gave nary a blind eye to the winged scavengers overhead as I was so in awe of this crazy wharf. There are coffee shops and fish/chip joints all on houseboats. I think some folks even live there, I gather from what I saw by peering through drawn venetian binds.

One thing that did disconcert me today. Nearly every place I applied to immediately declared, “Oh! You must be here for the dishwashing POSITION!!” They rolled their punctuation, and brightened their eyes like a Disney heroine. Do I look like a fuckin dishwasher? Im 25 years old. I was dressed nicely. What about me makes them think I would want to scavenge through half chewed food? I did my part. I dishwashed for almost a fuckin year back in PG. Ive never been much a fan of taking two steps forward and one (or three!) step back. What am I doing wrong? I have the wrong look? Is it my hair? Is it my shoes?? My clothes? Is my face not symmetrical enough?? What the fuck is it about me that is giving the wrong impression? Mother fucker. All these things that society PRACTICALLY FORCES upon us, just to look half way decent enough to be hired for a medeocre job at some schnitzzy tapas bar. I tan. I floss. I yoga, workout, I DO PUSHUPS AND SITUPS nearly every single day! I use tooth whitening toothpaste. I get my haircut at a trendy infamous salon. Designer cologne! A FUCKING myraid of lotions, gels and powders. Not only for aesthetic appeal, but also for personal confidance, WHICH IS TERRIBLE!! I KNOW!! okay….. exhaling.


It is just so frustrating to not be able to find a decent serving job when I so clearly have all the experience and referalls and drive and talent… it must be my *presentation* of myself? This is why I bawl like a newborn badger everytime I watch extreme makeover. These POOR UGLY FUCKS on there.. before they are all mangles, rotten teeth, spotty sagging skin, pancake tits, thinning hair, bad genes all around. They all have one thing in common… they want to “feel better about themselves” What a crock! I mean yah they want to feel better about themselves, but they are going about that via their perception of what others are thinking about them, are they not. ok ok ok yah they want to look in the mirrior and like what they see but Ill bet you a thousand bucks that what weighs more on their deciscions is what they look like while walking through the mall and not sitting before their bathroom vanity. In the world today, and I thnk its getting more and more prominent, qulaity of life is very very relative to physical appearance. Its unavoidable. Sometimes I feel like its just pointless, and that there is a limit to my possible success because of the way I look. What fuckery is that? That thought just makes me want to go on a shooting rampage. Instead, Ill slather on an extra layer of anti wrinkle cream tonight.


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