Well, if the world is my oyster, then I seem to be gagging on it these days. Let's start with the boy situation. What boy situation!? Ha ha. Now, M, you might say, haven't you been involved with some perfectly decent fellows since you've been back?
Sure - perfectly decent if you enjoy men with secret coke addictions, men who don't follow up on their invites to The Simpsons movie, men with hair the texture of a baby and the conversational skills to match! And then there's Big Hair. The dark, handsome one I'd hoped would keep me warm throughout the winter and make me forget my small-town woes. Not quite the case. No, instead he pushed me into snowbanks, ran across the street without me, couldn't spell my name properly - all with the nagging feeling that a five year old was sticking his tongue out at me and singing, "na na na na boo boo" while he ninja-kicks me in the ass.
Don't be silly, M, you might say...look at who's next on the list of prospects: a Lebanese waif with an earring and a penchant for pretending to be something he's not - think tights, perfect diction and a spear. That ought to carry me right up until February 13, when he's called away to shoot a Best Buy commercial and doesn't think our relationship is good for his career.
Which is why I'm so grateful to have the company of S, who will nod in the appropriate pauses as I agonize and wail about the fact that no one appreciates me or wants to be with me. And then we'll spoon.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Oysters
I'd be hard-pressed to count the number of times I have heard the phrase "The world is your oyster" in the past 2 years.
When I graduated from college, and moved to Toronto for a choice internship at a real, live magazine -one that people actually read!- I felt totally ready to kick some mythical oyster butt. However, as anyone who has tried the delicacy can attest to, oysters are slippery little things. They can be hard to keep a grip on.
Although my internship went quite well and I learned a lot, when it was over, somehow no job magically appeared to take its place. Unfortunately, even the colossally noisy, unbearably hot, mouse-infested closet of an apartment I had been living in required rent. I could see no other viable option but to join the league of twenty-something graduates who were bringing their empty pockets and post-secondary educations back home to mom and dad.
So here I am, doing my darndest to find some kind of job remotely related to journalism and living in this weirdly picturesque little town. Seriously, it's kind of like living on the set of the Gilmore Girls.
Luckily, I'm not alone. One of my best friends (M) moved home soon after me and we've managed to recruit some excellent -or, according to M, adequate- company to keep us entertained while we try to decide how we're supposed to fit into this world we've been handed.
When I graduated from college, and moved to Toronto for a choice internship at a real, live magazine -one that people actually read!- I felt totally ready to kick some mythical oyster butt. However, as anyone who has tried the delicacy can attest to, oysters are slippery little things. They can be hard to keep a grip on.
Although my internship went quite well and I learned a lot, when it was over, somehow no job magically appeared to take its place. Unfortunately, even the colossally noisy, unbearably hot, mouse-infested closet of an apartment I had been living in required rent. I could see no other viable option but to join the league of twenty-something graduates who were bringing their empty pockets and post-secondary educations back home to mom and dad.
So here I am, doing my darndest to find some kind of job remotely related to journalism and living in this weirdly picturesque little town. Seriously, it's kind of like living on the set of the Gilmore Girls.
Luckily, I'm not alone. One of my best friends (M) moved home soon after me and we've managed to recruit some excellent -or, according to M, adequate- company to keep us entertained while we try to decide how we're supposed to fit into this world we've been handed.
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