we are the matched and numbered ones who live in constant disrepair

I've been dealing with my recent state of being in the most unsavory of fashions. I'll admit that I've always had a certain penchant for self-destruction with a (not so) healthy dose of deep introspection thrown in, but lately things have gotten out of hand. For the past two weeks I've been seeking out solace at the bottom of a bottle every night and this has become a more than obvious problem for me. Out the door with such nonsense, I say. I need to put myself back together, to glue back the pieces that fell off during this tumble to where I am now. In the face of all that I've been through lately, of what still gnaws at my mind every other minute and of what I stand to go up against with my impending return to Montreal, I need all of my strength, a clear head and a direct perspective on my ambitions. To attain these ambitions certains objectives must however be set. Objectives are a lovely thing. How about we list some of mine right this instant and see if they can be met. I'll stick to strictly short term things for now, because I need to work in the now in order to make things work out later.

1) I need to find a a new job in Montreal as soon as I humanly can. I've been out of work these past two weeks and while I made a fair amount of money working such a ridiculously displeasing job, the above phrases should offer a hint as to where quite abit of that money went. I would like to find something close to home and at least somewhat fulfilling. There's a delightful looking tea house that just opened up the street from me and I think I might just be the Tea house kindof guy. We'll see, but the search gets underway as soon as I am back home.

2) I need to write more. I aim to be a writer and I greatly enjoy writing, therefore it should be natural that I write in a more consistent fashion. I want to get back into writing for the student paper, to try my hand at doing more freelance pieces, to write more about music and even to dabble in expanding my abilities at fiction writing.

3) I need to work on making friends and contacts in my milieu. I realized that I haven't kept contact with any of the people that I attended classes with last semester and I think that this is a shame. For one, I don't know a great deal of people in Montreal and it would be nice to have friends or acquaitances to go have a pint with every once in awhile. Also, in a field such as journalism it helps to have a network of associates with whom you can work in tandem with. Solidarity can go a long way. I need to shed some light on my sympathetic side.

4) I need to try and get back into some form of physical shape. Basketball outings with friends, excursions to the gym and a decent amount of jogging need to be of the order.

5) I'll end with something moderately cliché. I need to take care of matters of the heart. There's something I've been mulling over and debating for too long and it needs to be dealt with. I deeply care for this person and through the absolute mess that has been my life this summer, that is one of the single recurring and stable thoughts I've had. My timing is abit off on this matter considering the changes that are coming in barely a week, but it's never too late for such things.

I'm sure this list will grow as time goes on, but this is a stepping stone or a starting point I guess. I would be ecstatic if I could do things the right way for once.

love.jm

I'm damaged bad at best

This is it. This is absolute dejection. I don't think I've ever felt this bad, though I'm sure I've been in worse situations in the past. Somehow though, I am devoid of any defense mechanism. I feel utterly hopeless, helpless and without direction. This post is simply to catalogue this feeling. I honestly hope there's nowhere to go but up.

Outside, the unbearable grows

What an absurd being I am. I am an unending cycle, a series of patterns continuously colliding into themselves. But despite having resigned myself to accept this fact, I continue to live through the events that are dropped into my lap with quivering intensity and passion. I am unable to simply be indifferent, to just shrug anything off and carry on with my self-fulfilling existence. I often wonder whether or not I'm at all grateful for this trait of character.

Right now, right this instant as I'm typing this, I hurt. This might be temporary, this might be a reaction to a variety of circumstances or a brief plunge into the more fatalistic parts of my mind, but I'm filled with sadness and regret. I feel like I've wasted another rather extended period of time pursuing something that I could simply not have. I have this strange tendency of falling into these situations and being utterly incapable of dealing with them in an adequate and resolute fashion. I despise my insecurities and my inability to get over what I can only describe as 'ever-looming self-doubt.' May the echo of these words cease before morning.