I just finished reading Shampoo Planet by Douglas Coupland. Enh. I remember when I read Microserfs I thought he was a genius .. maybe that book was better, or maybe my standards were lower, or maybe I'm just jaded now, but damnit, I find Coupland stuff pretentious now, I think. The characters .. they're not real. And they're supposed to seem real. But people aren't like that. Real people don't speak in poetry. And if they did, their friends would tell them to shut up, or ask them if they were on drugs, rather than spewing back some equally poetic post-modern response about technology or nostalgic 50s-style diners. Reading a Coupland book is like watching an episode of the Gilmore Girls .. nothing but rapid-fire conversation with no evidence of thought or confusion, nothing but insight, as if even made-up characters from novels are reading from scripts. I guess they are, really. The author's scripts. It's just annoying. I don't like it anymore. I can't relate to characters like that.

So anyway, the job search is being postponed. My mom wants me to start taking better care of myself, and she wants to allow me the time I'll need to do that. This is both good and scary. I need a plan, I need an agenda book, or I'll have no direction, and I'll waste months worth of time. I should buy an agenda book today.

If I use this time wisely, I could be seeing a svelter, healthier, calmer, more organized me in a few months. Achieving babe-dom is really quite important to me. I'm growing my hair long. Then I'm going to start dyeing it red again. I'm naturally only a partial redhead. I want to be a fiery one again. With copper streaks. And sexy, sexy lips. And a slimmer, shapelier body that can wear anything, but looks its most ravishing, ironically, in jeans and a little t-shirt. You know what I mean, right?

That's the superficial aspect of it all. But there's more to it than that. I want to become more spiritual, calmer, happier, more "aware". I want to be able to meditate. At the moment I can't clear my mind, it's a bloody circus. I got stoned years ago and my awareness about the state of my mind increased. I tried to sleep that night in my paranoid state, but couldn't. I kept hearing marching band music and seeing weird sideshow freaks prancing around. Seriously. I pictured the inside of my head like a colisseum where all these freaks gathered .. or maybe it was inside a big top, I really don't know. I just know it was weird. And I didn't like it. There was no rest, no calm, not ever. Like the circus freaks in my head weren't really freaks to begin with, they just became that way because they were forced to go on entertaining constantly for my sake, and lack of sleep made them insane, now they're strung out crackheads and paranoid schizophrenics .. all there to prevent me from being bored. I only saw them for what they were with the help of the pot. Without it, all the stuff in my head was just random noise, like the snippets you hear from the TV when you drift off to sleep in front of it without turning it off.

Fucking hell. All these metaphors and similes. Now I think I sound like a wannabe Coupland novel. I am way too easily influenced by what I read.

Anyway, the point is that my mission for the next few months will be to learn to take proper care of myself, to figure out what it is I need to be motivated, to learn to really, truly respect my body, my brain, my needs. It's not every day one gets an opportunity to dedicate their life temporarily to this sort of thing.

I think it will be quite interesting.

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