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Guess what I just did? I irrigated my mouth stitches with special mouthwash prescribed by my dentist. That’s right, I inserted a little syringe into the back of my mouth and sprayed out all those harmful little soul-sucking bacteria. How’s that for sexy? Can you feel it?

Since I can’t drink (well, I can, but codeine causes all kinds of shitfacedness), I’m joining my lovely girls for an evening of food (which I can’t eat), champagne (which I can’t drink) and general gossip (I can’t laugh, it hurts).

But this rest period? Effing amazing. I could definitely work from home, my productivity is skyrocketing. Too bad my coworkers refuse to reply to my emails.

My travel narrative blog should be up before the weekend is over, and I’m pretty stoked about it. MAD STOKED. I’m so sorry I’ve been neglecting to add linkage to all my new readers, plus the Matador Team, but it seemed like such an unnecessary task as I’m also still waiting for That’s Tangly to launch. I hate this blog and I can’t wait for it to be done with. FOREVER. *lightning flashes* Please be sure that I will give appropriate bucketfuls of love to my loyal readers when I can.

Aside: I’m absolutely loving my new position as associate editor. LOVE IT. I’m flinging myself enthusiastically into the process, possibly biting off more than I can chew, but I love it. There’s amazing stuff happening over at Matador.

This is how I used to look before a dentist ripped into my gums and hauled out two big 'ol wisdom teeth.

So sitting here for the last few days have inspired a lot of thinking. Yesterday, while all my American buds were celebrating Thanksgiving, I thought about how much I have to be thankful for. My friends, my family, my new gig with Matador (when I come home from work in the evenings I’m usually up til 1 a.m., writing, brainstorming, and catching up on blogs, and I don’t mind it one bit). I realize that every decision I have made has led me in the right direction, because I’ve followed my heart.

If I could offer one piece of advice to anyone, it would be to do that: follow your heart. Ditch things that don’t feel right. My lord how many times did I have to push aside the negativity and “are you going to be a teacher?” comments when I announced studying English at Memorial University. But I knew it was what I loved doing, and I know for a fact you can only excel at something if you enjoy it.

So here I am, six years later, with a pretty sweet career, a modest Internet footprint in the making, and a sweet-ass position with an online travel magazine.
And I’m still restless. I hate saying this because I know I have coworker(s) reading, but I assume within a few years I’ll be out of here. I love St. John’s, but lately this place makes me feel very lonely and limited. I need to get out. I need to experience different places. But how can I do that with my debt? I will never be one of those people to push my responsibilities aside. I will never run from student loans or forget about line of credit payments.

But fuck, it’s disheartening. My plan is to pay off all my debt within 5 years, save cash, and hit the road on a Round the World trip. But by that time, I’ll be 28. I know, that’s still young, but I’m losing time. I don’t want to waste a minute.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m a giant wiener.

Speaking of debt, Christmas shopping begins tomorrow if I’m brave enough to face the world with cheeks the size of grapefruits. And my mother called me a pussy today because I won’t drink the prune juice that expired in September 2009. I love my mom.


Today, while contemplating the white and lavender colour scheme of the bathroom in my future house, I was hit with an overwhelming bout of homesickness. I miss my parents and my little bro terribly. I miss my cozy, pink house. I miss pub parties and greasy food from Potsy’s.


I think I’m just in one of those ruts again where I need some excitement and the weather in St. John’s is gnawing on me bones. Hates it. I hate how I need entirely different wardrobes for every season… raincoats for spring/fall, dressy jackets for all-season, ridiculous ski parkas for winter… shorts, tank-tops, waterproof boots, scarves, mitts, hats, sunglasses. Then there’s gym clothes. I just never have enough. My parents are giving me money for some joggers though. Still suckling at the teat, it seems.


I have absolutely nothing interesting to write about because I’ve been working flat out hardcore all the time at it. Tomorrow, I will complete my FIRST full document after working with the company for nearly seven bloody months. Sad, yet glorious. All I want to do is crash and I can’t seem to sleep, there are always interruptions. I had every intention of crawling into bed at 11:30 last night, but I had to wait for J-Nurse to drop by. She didn’t show up until close to 12:30 a.m., and I literally sat on the couch periodically expressing noises of exasperation while pulling out my hair. By the time we said our good-byes, I climbed into bed and only had a few seconds to cry about it before I zonked out.


Everyone is moving on. For the most part, I’m content where I am. But the other day a weird feeling overcame me as I wondered where I would be in ten years…chances are my friends will be married with children and I’ll still be out partying, or drinking alone ‘cos frankly, who wants to party with a loner 32 year old? Maybe I’ll start wearing leopard-skin tank-tops and hit on young men at the Sundance. Seriously though, what will I do?


Check out the link. Epitomizes da bay. Loves it. Although generally I’m led to believe that bay-wops are better than townies ‘cos they knows der tools. My dad is my own personal favourite lumberjack. By the time he was 19, he had explored most of the terrain around the town by wandering and sleeping on random beaches, etc. He also raised two pet snowy owls. Now seriously, where can you find a man like that?

This is my mess at work. Notice the clementine placed strategically on my notebook to represent "still life."

This is my mess at work. Notice the clementine placed strategically on my notebook to represent "still life."

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