check it.
novelism failed: school and work ate my soul, and somehow convinced me that writing a book wasn’t nearly as fun as buying five pairs of socks for $75 was a great idea. fuck american apparel. so yeah, in this past month, not only have i only written a mere forty seven words of what was supposed to be the most ambitious project of my young life, but also neglected byue. it’s a load of rubbish, and even though i’m abivalent about the commitment that this text box is demanding of me for the next few hours, instict drew me to click on ‘write’. so here we are.

and now, roughly two weeks later, i feel more eaten alive. i’ve decided to take up a job in the eaton centre for the festive season, as planet aid has closed. yes, this in itself was a plea for aggrivation, but we can question my sanity at a later date, perhaps after the destiny’s child christmas song montage four more times in the span of one hour, okay? i think i’m mostly just shell shocked, i don’t usually do malls, and working at a non-profit vintage store is about as similar to working in a girly clothing store in a huge mall at X-MAS time is about as similar as a cocktail party is to a mob of the enslaved. anyways, i was chatting with mum earlier, and bless her dear suburban heart–and i really do mean that, i love her–and she asked me what impelled human beings to rise at 530 am to venture towards a shopping centre and spend their days in an artificial environment. my response, verbatim from the msn chat (and yes, my mother has both an msn account and a facebook page): “because the world is run by capitalism that steals every moment of our lives at an inflated cost.”

the holiday season is never a fun time for me: i’ve objected to almost every large spruce tree adorned with a gaudy melange of glittery bits and bobs. yeah, it’s all really pretty, but tacky and in bad taste. to me, baby jesus or whatever else manifests itself in a melee of human beings packed tight in puffy coats trapped inside a highly controlled environment. i’m complaining like a 15-year-old ‘anarchist’ who goes all crazy for orwellian fatalism and buy nothing day. but, i’ll still say that the only thing that will save X-MAS for me this year, or any subsequent year, is a reindeer petting zoo. waaay cute.

i feel a little out of sorts with myself–i’ve worked twenty-four hours in a three day span, and while that only works out to eight hours a day, it has left little opportunity for me to just, oh, even, not smile. in fact, i only just realized that i was still wearing my little lanyard advertising device, a tiny noose. sigh. i’ve gotta go take care of business, and the kind that i like.

keep it real.