You know how sometimes something will seem like a really good idea, but then when you look back on it you're like "Jesus ... what was I on when I did that?" I dunno ... that seems to happen to me a lot. Like a few minutes ago, for example, when I came online and looked at my last diary entry, and saw my new text colour (for those who missed it, it was acid trip orange) and blinked in pain and disgust. So it's back to white font again. That's the last time I ever try to change something that works for me.

OK, so I just moved to this city. And now there's a good chance I'll be moving out of it. By myself. In the near future. Don't ask where ... you'll find out eventually. I want the move to work out, and I feel like I'll jinx it if I talk about it too much. So yeah.

Now why, you ask, why on Earth would I want to move out of Toronto, the city that supposedly has everything? Well, there are a few reasons. One is that I find the downtown scene is a bit too much for me. Too many people, too much grit, too much going on. My brain can't settle. I have trouble focusing when I'm out shopping & doing stuff. I need some sort of happy medium between suburb and metropolis. Another reason is that I do eventually have to move out on my own (as in, to a place where I pay the rent myself rather than sponge off Mommy), and there is, like, NO WAY I can afford a decent place in Toronto. This is one hell of an expensive city to live in, people. Unless I want to pay $750 a month for a roach-crawling bachelor apartment right by Jane & Finch (which I still couldn't likely afford), I'm gonna have to look elsewhere. There are more reasons. I won't get into those right now. The point is, I'm looking to move. So it looks like my job-hunting will be taking place in another city (*cough cough* .. London). My mom is helping me. Her enthusiasm disconcerts me a tad, but oh well, I appreciate her help nonetheless. I was so sure she would laugh at me when she heard my plan. And she didn't. So it's good. I think.

Rrrgh ... I was shopping at the Black Market vintage store today. Everyone who's been down Queen street West knows it. It's actually not a great vintage store, in my opinion. Too much old, musty Adidas crap and crusty corduroy pants that only fit guys (and girls whose waist & hips are equal in measurement ... if you've got T&A it's a bit of a problem). I prefer Kensington Market for vintage stores .. at least it's got a tad more variety and interesting finds. But in the, uh, bulk-ish section of Black Market I saw this yellow Wild Cherry T-shirt (you know, they did "Play that Funky Music" .. never mind whether I'm actually a fan or not .. the shirt was cool, OK?) on the display wall, and I wanted it. So I went searching through the T-shirt racks, but they only had that T-shirt in black. So I notice the sign on the display wall by the shirts that says "Please ask for assistance". So I go and ask the chick at the counter if she can get the yellow shirt down for me. She says no. No, it's the display shirt, she can't take it down. She tells me it's the only yellow one left, but I can get it in black. I didn't want black. See, this bugs me. Why put that shirt on display when there are none left? Why not sell me the yellow one, and replace it with a black one of which there are many? WHY??? I wonder if I go back there some day when someone more, like, "in charge" is working, if they'll let me buy the shirt? Maybe. It's not worth it. How silly. They totally lost a sale. And the shirt was way overpriced anyway. Screw 'em, I says.

God, I'm bored. I need some friends. Seriously. People who live around here to hang out with. There are millions of people around here. And yet I'm such a loner. I'm so lame. I'd have to find people who don't just wanna go, like, clubbing, or raving or whatever it is that people do these days when they go out ... that's so not my scene. Don't ask what my scene is ... I have no idea. Maybe that's my problem. I just don't know where to hang. Or maybe I'm just too dull and miserly for my own damn good.

Who knows?

Who indeed.

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� Ripe Tomato 2001-2005
Don't steal my shit. I'll send thugs. Oh shut up. I do so have thugs. Quit laughing! Look, just don't steal my stuff, OK?