so that's where you've been

What an amazing song:



The street is loud tonight. For a smallish town, Halifax has a hell of a nightlife. People here just live to party. It makes me wish I enjoyed partying more, but I just don't. I'd so much rather sit by a beach until midnight or read a book. The clubs just get to me on a level that kind of makes me hate all human interaction because it all seems so phony and fake. But when I hear the loud shrieks and the laughter amongst a group of friends smashed out of their minds, it makes me wish I didn't have such a heavy heart. I wish I could find fun in it, I'd probably get out a lot more and meet more people. My mind never stops. I wish it did. I wish I didn't think about everything so deeply. I wish I got turned on instead of rolling my eyes in repulse when a drunk frat boy gropes at me in a club. Maybe if I giggled, more things would go my way. Maybe if I just didn't care about my training program, I'd go out a lot more too. But I run everyday. Happy hour is not going to replace the interval session that I usually do at that time. I care too much about running to push it to the side in favour of drinks. And I'm not going to go out partying all night if I know that I have a hill run at 6AM the next day. Maybe that makes me anti-social, who knows.

I'm not homesick. In fact, it took me leaving Montreal to realize just how much I hate it there. It will drain your soul. And every time I think about how I have to go back there, I want to be sick. I want this summer to last forever. I want it to be infinite. Time should freeze right where it is. I'm 23, it's the heat of the summer, and I'm in a place that I should never have to leave. I don't want the grown up job, the responsibilities, the adult life. I want this moment. I want this place.

Speaking of grown up jobs. Of course it's cruel irony that after 4 years of trying to get officially hired by the Habs, the moment I move to Halifax, I actually get a call back on a position that I applied for. For four years when I was in Montreal, I busted my ass to get my foot in the door. I interned. I did bitch work. I did anything and everything I could, I never got paid, and I just hoped it would turn into something. Whenever job openings popped up, I'd jump on them and hope they'd remember me as a keener, willing to do anything for that team. I always got passed up. I needed to get away so I move, and now, I have an interview for a full time position with them.

It's a great opportunity, but all I can think about is how much I don't want to go back. Maybe it'll be okay. Maybe it'll work out. Maybe one day I can own a chalet in Halifax that I'd run away to every summer.

God, I'd love that.

It's not time to go yet. My gut is telling me it's not time yet.