Platform 327

Still feeling pretty crappy, but I did manage to make it out to the Word on the Street festival this afternoon. Got a face-to-face look at the woman teaching the online writing course I’m taking, but not a very lone one. By the time I got there, the whole place was incredibly busy, and I couldn’t really get close enough to see anything.

There was a bright spot to the festival, however. While wandering towards the exit, I heard a familiar sound wafting on the breeze: Laura Barrett and her kalimba. I’ve got one of her CDs but I’d never seen her live before, so that was a bit of a treat to make going outside hung over worthwhile. I also discovered she’s got a new CD out that I will have to get my hands on.

I didn’t get nearly as much work done this weekend as I was hoping to, but I did manage to tread water. Of course, I’ve been treading water all my life. Bleh.

It’s 7:00 on Sunday morning. Instead of getting up to work on my courses before heading off to the Word on the Street festival as I had planned, I’m awake because I’ve got a splitting headache, feel sick, and am waiting for the Advil to kick in.

Yes, folks, it’s been a while, but I’ve got a bitch of a hangover.

Guess I should have seen this coming. Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been drinking more and more again, been feeling stressed out when I wasn’t drinking, and getting closer and closer to having “one too many.” Yesterday I had planned on being back by 11:00. Instead, I wandered in at 1:45 after having spent WAY too much money. And now, here I am feeling like shit when I should be working on some positive things in my life.

The irony is I don’t even like being drunk anymore, so having hangover is no longer a “pain for pleasure” thing. It’s just a pain.

Even if I have no more booze starting now, the next couple of weeks are going to be sleepless, stressful, and wholly unproductive. That’s if I have no more booze.

I’m sick of wasting my life on this shit. Giving my life to a corporation 5 days a week just to give the remaining 2 over to booze is stupid. Can you say, “Alcoholic,” children? I knew that you could.

And now it’s time to throw up and go back to bed.

Went on a trip to the White Rock Ostrich Farm this weekend with Wendi and my parents. We fed some ostriches, and then we went home and ate some of their cousins. If you haven’t tried ostrich steak yet, you’re missing out. We also ate some fresh Ontario corn that we picked up at a roadside stand. Yum-yum.

http://radio3.cbc.ca/play/band/Ravi-Persaud

Amazing how just when you’re feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet, a news story surfaces that makes you think maybe you’re not such a bad person after all.

In about half an hour, a vet will be coming to put Bridget (pictured above) to sleep. I probably left it a bit too long, but after a day of her hissing, growling and pissing all over the place, it became obvious that she’s not well and it was time to put her down. Of course now that the guy is on his way, she’s all calm and collected, like nothing’s wrong. My mom once said that animals do that so that we have pleasant last memories of them. I think they just do it to make us feel even more guilt.

But the little Tazmanian devil got to live quite a bit longer than she would have otherwise. Her heart condition would have meant she would have been put down if the shelter’s vet had gotten to her before I did, and my vet said she wouldn’t live to be a year old. She’s 2 years and 2 months old.

I got a kitten so that I wouldn’t have to deal with making this decision for another 15 years or so, but here I go again. I think I’m going to quit the whole cat-ownership thing until I’m old and infirm. And then I’ll get a cat who is also old and infirm so I’ll at least be able to get some sleep.

Bye, Bridget.