I spent my last weekend getting over a chest cold, which at times felt like it had completely torn my lungs into ity bity pieces. And who knew that effexor (and other anti-depressants) interact badly with most cough syrups. Goody. Today I can pretty much breathe, I have new dress pants on that make me feel grown up, and I get to see Harry Connick Jr in concert tonight at the NAC. I have nosebleed seats, as I waited too long to buy my ticket and obviously underestimated Harry’s popularity in the Ottawa area. But still, Southam Hall doesn’t have that many truly bad seats, so I can live with what I got.

More and more these days I’ve been thinking about moving to Toronto. I sit there, and I really want it to happen, but I lack any motivation whatsoever to make it happen. I just want a job to magically be handed to me, and then I can go. I don’t want to have to make a conscious decision to move, I certainly don’t want to have to look for a new job. Being lazy and a chicken really sucks. I am going down to visit friends this long weekend though, so maybe visiting will kick me into gear.

Despite being 3 years past university graduation, I still internally go by the academic calendar. This time of year = new year to me, and I can’t help getting that weird mix of feelings that spring up every September. A mix of looking forward to new things, new opportunities (although realistically this doesn’t happen for me any longer) as well as sadness at separation. This is the fist time since 2001 that Mél hasn’t been gearing up to go back to Toronto. It’s strange.

I need to change a few things about myself – hell, a lot of things about myself – but I have yet to hit that spot inside me that kicks self-improvement into gear. I’m not sure where to begin or how, but I’m not a child any more, I must stop behaving like one.