And anyway, my writing lately has been absolutely AWFUL. I’m serious. It’s been truly, truly, disgustingly awful. I don’t know why really, but everything just comes out sounding (and smelling) like garbage. (I’m not talking about this blah-og, of course. Because blogging is always bad. As all my long time readers know, I deliberately don’t bother trying to write well in the blah-og. To do so would be to spit in the face of blogging convention. I’m such a joiner…
Anyway, yeah. My “real” writing stinks right now. I don’t suppose I should worry. It’s not like I’m trying to sell stories. The only writing I’ll need to worry about come September is essay writing, which is a whole different thing. I’m way out of practice of course, but I expect I’ll get the knack back soon enough. And maybe switching over to that sort of writing again will be a good thing. Maybe I just need a break from the journalism thing? I dunno. It’ll be a change, anyway. Not that I feel like need any more of THAT, but hey. Gotta stay positive, right?
I’ve been trying (really trying) to get used to Toronto, to settle in and be social. This is not easy. For one thing, almost all my set friends here are actually more acquaintances, and people I haven’t been in touch with since high school, and hanging out with them again is seriously bizarre. Sometimes it’s fun. I’ve met up with a couple of people I especially like, but the trouble is, when that happens, I get a little too excited about it, which brings me to my second problem: I am WAY too eager. I think I might be coming across as a bit desperate, you know? Like, I’m trying to hold back, but every time I spend time with someone I like, I feel like I’m acting like a freak. Like might as well be hopping up and down screeching “Be my friend! I like you! Be my friend! I like you!” over and over again like some sort of demented and oversized parrot.
You may laugh, but I really feel this way! And it’s worse when the person I’m trying to befriend is male, because they invariably think I’m hitting on them (which is embarrassing in a whole different and more horrible way, but that’s another discussion entirely). It also doesn’t help that I check my email obsessively, spend too much time on facebook and have no real work to distract me from replying to messages straight away. Nor does it help that the more nervous I get, the more I talk (and the more tangents I go off on) making me seem – no doubt – completely insane to the relatively calm people I have been foisting myself upon. And you know, stupid old Matt did tell me I have a problem with never being satisfied with how much people are giving me (in terms of attention, time, etc.) Maybe that’s part of it, I dunno. He’s an asshat, though, so I’m trying to put that particular mean tidbit out of my mind.
Blech. This is awful, isn’t it? What a reeky post! Pay no attention to me because I know I am ridiculous, but what’s a blog for if not to vent? I mean, again, NOT to vent would be tantamount to rejection of the blogging medium in general. Let’s just pretend I’m trying to fit in and leave it at that.