I have been working hard the past two months. So hard that I have had no desire to blog. No desire to write nor read. No desire to do anything. My boss approached me and told me that he was willing to let me work as much overtime as I wanted to this year, as much as I could, so long as I did not burn out. I saw that as a gimme and I lessened the blow to him when I suggested that he could bank my extra hours over to lean times. Basically he has to pay overtime if I work more than 60 hours a week, but I suggested that he pay me for 55 and bank the rest for when I work less than 55. But should I have trusted him? He is a greedy bastard and tries the most underhanded manipulation with his staff. So can I trust him? I will see. I worked 106.25 hours, over six weeks, over the 55 hour mark. I woke up @3:30 to be in @5am, when ever I needed to be.
Net result, I was too tired to read, write, think about sex, do something about ending my miserable existence. Also during that time I discovered a new business in town, a new bicycle repair shop that was offering bike tours on Thursday and Friday evenings, so I have been riding those nights and meeting new couples, but new people anyways. Good things. I don't miss a ride.
I started a garden @The Community Gardens. I have always wanted to have a garden, now I do. I have always wanted to have Three Sisters Garden, which is the way the native North Americans used to farm before the Europeans told them they were doing it wrong. They were doing it wrong, but then so were the Europeans. Actually the natives were doing it more correct. Three Sisters was about planting more than one crop in a single field. They planted corn and beans which crawled up the corn stalks and they planted squash which shaded the ground inhibiting evaporation and weed growth and the spines on the vines deterred raccoons looking for easy food. The beans fixed nitrogen fertilizing the corn, but they did not know that. If the just practiced fallowing fields every other year, they would have had a sustainable society. Anyways I got bored and added more crops, bush beans on the squash hills and beats in-between the hills. I have a line of multi coloured carrots and four heritage tomatoes.
My car died last week. Which is a good thing, it means I can focus on bike riding for everything. Do my wash more frequently, buy less junkfood because it won't fit in my backpack and cycle out to see people. Last week I did a 60km trip to see someone. Part of me wishes that MagicEyes asked me to come visit, so that I would have a reason to cycle that far, close to 150km round trip. No car does mean no dating. There is no one who interests me in Smallville nor many in boonieland in general so no reason to obsess on it.
I did need a car to get to Big Smoke for the weekend because I had some time off work. So I rented. I could have bussed it, but for this short trip I bit the bullet and rented a car. I will go visit a friend for lunch listen to her unrealistic dating desires in Big Smoke, where all the people I would date live, while she presented with choice selects from the same subgroup of men who are bad for her. She is caught between worlds, expects her ideal man, someone who earns more than her who is above her in her mind, while she continues to advance in her profession making more and more money and shrinking the pool of people she would therefore find attractive.
I have to decide whether I spend my money buying books at MY book store, shopping for bread in a European neighbourhood, fruit in Chinatown (perhaps the fabled Duran?) or seeking self gratification that I can never actually find, and the lack of finding always depresses me. I don't think I want to do that. I have learned what that does and does not do. I might go see a movie—> my lunch date just cancelled.
I wrote down a bunch of ideas for blog posts. I still want to write that novel in my head. I realize that depression will always be my companion, a suicidal whisper in my ear forever. This weekend spent with my former housemate, his wife and two beautiful children, who love me without condition, there was a little whisper telling me that death was preferable.
