And the woman interviewing me wuz so much the perfect business woman. I could do nothing but wrong in just being myself.
It wuzn't a complete loss though, this interview. I'd still have a hope if I brought myself to do the follow-up phone call. And no doubt I won't. I hate that. "Hello, I just wanted to kiss your ass in regards to the supreme kindness you executed in giving me a fleeting grovelling chance at employment in your business. Thank you so much my dearly blessed potential future employer."
Dropped my resume off at a couple places in Gastown. I'm all proud of myself cuz I seemed relatively sane and calm as I did so. I felt like a part of the human race, and it didn't make me feel ill or defeated. I liked it. Wow! Let me in. Get behind the mule and plow. What a novelty. I think I could pull this off.
I really want to work in gastown. I hope someone there hires me cuz that is pretty much my favourite part of Vancouver. In terms of shopping(I don't get thrills from shopping, but in Gastown I like it), walking, looking... it's very cool. I love that area. I wouldn't want to live there I don't think; lots of break-ins, and junkies in alleys, dumb city crime focal point. But working there would be very sweet by me.
My interview today wuz mostly talk about my mom in fact. I mentioned that I wuz going to go to lunch with her and the woman kept asking me about her. My mom is more likely to get that job than I am. She wuz very interested in hearing about my mother.
I feel the need to mention (whenever I talk about her parking enforcement job) that my mom is also a massage therapist. She has her massage therapy clinic here in the house. And she is generally a brave, forward-moving, independent ambitious woman. For the record, let me state that she's a pretty cool cat.
And that is one of the reasons I must move out.
She and I get along a lot better when we are not living together. When we are living together (as proven by my endless, and increasing in intensity each day, complaints about her) I go out of my mind with irritation over every little thing that makes her who she is.
"No sweat, I'm clean. Nothing can touch me.
Hey, I'm the king of the world, you wanna hear my song"
"How sad am I... So love-sick I could die."
"I make you lick my injuries. I'm gonna twist your head off, see. Till you say, 'don't you wish you never, never met her?' ...I beg you, my darling, don't leave me. I'm hurting. Lick my legs, of desire. Lick my legs, I'm on fire. Don't you wish you never met her?"
Alright, that triggered a positive highschool memory! Of how I got into PJ Harvey.
I wuz going to a school called Virtual High. The whole idea of which wuz self-guided online learning. I wuz too afraid [in general] at the time to take full advantage of the scene, but it wuz cool. It wuz in this huge house over on West 16th, and everyone had their own laptop computer and their own office. In my time there I didn't touch a computer, and to me my office wuz just another place to tape pictures of Courtney Love to the walls of.
There were no teachers there, just "mentors", as they called them. (sounds rather cult-esque to me) And one of these mentors, (I can't remember her name... ) read me so well. I didn't speak much at this school, so it wuz a valiant effort on her part to even bother with me...
Anyways, she gave me a glitterry green sweater once. That wuz grand, how kind. Teachers (ahem, mentors) don't usually give things to students.
One day she said, "I have this album that I think you would totally be into. It's so you. I think you'll really like it."
The next day she brought me PJ Harvey's "Rid Of Me".
Holy God, (as PJ wails "no need for God!" ha!) she wuz so right. It blew my mind. What a fucking great record. I listened to it over and over and over for weeks. That voice. I have never heard such an amazing voice! And that voice of hers gets infinitely grander with every album she releases.
Bow down to Saint PJ Harvey. She rules the rock world.
You must hear to believe.
My epidermis is not receptive to touch right now. Like the 'recieve' nerves are dead. I can't feel fully. This usually happens but it should have worn off by now. Fifteen hours later. I'm scared I won't regain full feeling. That would be really not cool. Not fatal, but not cool.
The ride home from downtown today wuz so lovely.
It actually got sunny out. It wuz so beautiful. Blue sky, with big fluffy white cartoon clouds. The mountains visible and snowcapped. And the sun wuz out. Sitting on the skytrain I turned my head toward the sun and closed my eyes. I love the feeling of that. The warmth. And the red/orange glow that comes through closed eyelids in sunlight. That is so peaceful.
Ran into a girl I went to school with on the bus.
(Public transit is my social life, apparently.)
She just got back from (a year in) Australia and is going to see her boyfriend in Scotland next week.
That speaks for itself really. What can I say? You bitch! Damnit. I'm just jealous.
And now I am hating my fucking mother once again. She just came knocking, demanding use of the phone line. (I resisted the urge to scream and swear at her. Commend me.)