Drugs, drugs, drugs, which are good, which are bad.

11:41am. I sink into my coffee, steam curling. Work stretches its muscles, flexes its fingers and cracks its knuckles. Down to business.

I can't escape selling, no matter what I do. My parents always called me "the negotiator". I sell ideas, I sell my opinion - whether it's for 50 bucks in my bank account or a ride to SilverCity - I'm always selling something. I think some people are just born that way - as salesmen. I thought event planning was finally a breath of fresh air from the constant buy buy buy mentality that's been even more ingrained in me thanks to Creative Advertising, but not so. Now I'm selling this little company, asking for funds and support. It's for a much better cause and yes, it's reasonable, but it's still selling.

It's funny, I was sitting in my miniscule office and studying bigdatabase.com for possible sponsors, and all I could think was - "Okay, why would these big corporations buy into this, what is their sweet spot, their tipping point, what makes them feel as though they need to be socially responsible," and so on. I was already mentally writing a pitch letter asking them to buy into it, selling, negotiating, wheeling and dealing like there's no tomorrow.

I've come to terms with it though: I can survive in advertising, I'm okay with selling, it's as much a part of me as my Caramel 3463 highlights or awkward remarks.

I had lunch today with a friend from my advertising class who's interning just down a block down from my building at a media company. We both agreed our favourite thing about interning is not the experience, not the networking, not the knowledge and subsequent power - but the feeling of putting on a pair of dress pants and a fancy top in the morning, and the fact that we now have time after work to do things like watch movies or go out with comrades because we have no homework anymore. I laughed very long and very hard because the fact is, we're slaves to the idea of these jobs, not the practical reality.

Even so, I can't help enjoying putting on high heels. Just a little bit.

i'm telling you, it says moops

I'm done school and done TESL training, so here's to sweet, sweet beginnings!

My mom is one of my best friends - I say that without shame.

Things are getting better. I'm not complaining anymore - there's no reason to, really. I have a lot to be happy about. There's no need to elaborate so take that as you will.

There are three songs that have my heart right now:

1) Jinx Removing by Jawbreaker - this song feels like first crushes and dusty attics, poignant sharp memories.
"Too old not to get excited about rain and roads, Egyptian ruins, our first kiss. I love you more than I ever loved anyone before, or anyone to come. Someone said your name, I thought of you alone. I was just the same, twenty blocks away. Blew twelve and kissed the thirteenth finger."

2) Honestly by Zwan - I can't even put this one into words, it's beautiful without that sickly sweetness of other love songs.
I'll make a joke so you must laugh, I'll break your heart so you must ask, 'is this the way to get us back?' I don't know, honestly."

3) Don't Think Twice, it's Alright by Peter Paul & Mary - I went to a PP&M concert a few weeks ago, they played this and it stuck.
"Look out your window and I'll be gone, you're the reason I'm traveling on, don't think twice it's all right."

Yeah, so, download them.

Two weeks.

It's funny how I see everything as now having an expiration date. My "home", my possessions, my friendships and relationships, my family, even the piece of metal through my lip. My life is a series of endings that bring me a little closer to figuring myself out. I need this next year - I owe it to myself, I owe it to the people who love me, I owe it to the angry teen on anti-depressants. I'm dreaming bigger than ever before but taking more risks than I know how to deal with. Last night I lay in bed and realized how attached I am to the temporary: my dorm, my hobbies, my routine, this seat at the back of the bus...growing up is learning to let go. Growing up is steeling your heart against the what ifs and the same old fears under new guises. In three months from now none of this will matter. I have to move in six weeks and I don't know where I'll be livin, and even then - wherever that mystery location is - I'll be leaving it a month later. I'm scared of getting comfortable and settled into a schedule. I don't want a cushy studio apartment with my 9-5. I want to immerse myself in a new culture, new people, new experiences. I don't want to MAKE a difference; I NEED to.

Lately I've been listening to this band called get cape wear cape fly. They have this song called "Call Me Ishmael" and it sort of defines my life right now: "You are not your job, and you are not the clothes you wear, you are the words that leave your mouth so speak up, speak up loud, for none of us want to sit, in evaluations taking notes for hours, we're all sick and tired of waiting, lets set sail."

My angry tirade yesterday has calmed considerably. I'm starting my ESL course tomorrow. I'm another step towards airports and goodbyes, complacency with myself and my life. Sometimes I wonder what I'll do without you in my life. You will replace me despite attempts to keep in touch. "I miss our talks", you'll say, so you'll miss the memory of me, but not me in the flesh. That's okay, I think it's for the best anyway since you can never give me what I want and I can't stay happy with how we are for very much longer. Clean break or messy break, see it how you will.

When I think about my brother I feel like crying. At the hardest points of my life, I need his approval more than my parents. Strange how things work out.