Okay. So, last night I was gone. On a scale of 1 to 10 stoned, I was a good 16. Wow.

I also picked possibly the worst time to try and start cleaning up my act. Why? It shouldn’t be this difficult. I’m actually struggling with how to curb my smoking and drinking, though. I’m so bored in the city all the time. Drinking and smoking weed make life more interesting.

Yes. I am bored. I’m bored with my life. I feel so – trapped. I’ve said it before, but it’s true. I feel like I’m stuck. I’ve plateaued. I’m trying to reach a newer, better level, but I either don’t know how, or a higher power is playing a very fucked up game with me.

I want new work, new scenery, and new interests. Sometimes I want new friends, too. Or to simply see more of certain people. Honestly, I’m not too fond of some of the people I hang around with. I feel like the energy that they bring into my life can often be counterproductive, or very negative.

I also can’t blame people all the time. As much as I hate to admit it, I do a lot of finger pointing. I need to take a good look in the mirror. I’m responsible for my own happiness. If I know that, then why am I continually doing things to distract myself from my goals?

This morning, I woke up in the biggest haze. That’s not a good thing when you’re scheduled for a 10 a.m. interview with the company you’ve been chasing for two months. Stupid. Absolutely stupid. This is what I mean. My behavior is detrimental to my own success. I have nobody to blame but myself.

Fortunately, I got my ass together and made it to The Clubhouse on time. I still hadn’t done much preparation for the interview. However, to be fair, I think that was somewhat understandable. I didn’t even know what I was interviewing for today. As far as I was concerned, this was just an introductory meeting with the Member Manager – Robyn Wren.

Well, Robyn and I spent an hour together. I felt very comfortable with her. That being said, the position(s) Robyn described left me feeling a little underwhelmed. Basically, I would be floating between the private membership office doing administration work, and the concierge desk at the front of the club where members check-in. That’s not fun. That’s not creative. How is that going to help me segue into a long-term, successful career?

I hope Robyn liked me. Once again, I wasn’t as formal as I should have been. I tried, though. Robyn asked me what I would title my autobiography.

“Butterfly,” I answered, without hesitation. “Because I embrace and respect change,” I explained further.

Robyn also asked me what fictional character I would be.

I said, “Elle Woods.” Obviously.

Listen. The woman either likes me, or she doesn’t. At this point, while I am still trying to be as professional and formal as possible, I’m still going to be myself. I cannot, for the love of Mimi, hide that. I’ve tried. I can’t do it. I can’t be stifled. Fuck. But, not fuck.

Here’s the real problem right now. I’ve come to realize that it’s going to be a long time before someone sees and appreciates what I have to offer. Only then will I find the career I was meant for. I guess I just didn’t see the process taking this long. But, damn! People are fucking blind!

The people who get me – who know me on a deeper level – they get it. In fact, they’re as shocked as I am that I still haven’t found a job. Yet, it still seems like the majority of employers don’t want me.

Robyn was very blunt during our interview. To the point where she even said, “Based on what I’ve gathered from you, I can see you getting bored with this position.”

Cut to me, trying to defend myself against Robyn’s (very accurate) assumption. And how did I do that? By intentionally trying to dull myself down. I don’t want to do that. I shouldn’t have to do that. But, it seems as though that’s what I’m required to do in order to get a job. Goddamn it! I’m just going to write my book, and then everyone else can just fuck off to Hell. No. Wait. They can read the book, realize what they missed out on, and then they can fuck off to Hell.

After my interview, I walked down the street from The Clubhouse to the nearby McDonald’s. I waited for a bathroom stall, then untucked my dress shirt and changed my shoes. Screw that formalwear shit. I needed my Converse.

I took the subway up to the Witch Cave, stopping by The Toronto Film Group gift shop before going home. I texted Teresa Richards to see if she was around, and the two of us ended up having a very quick coffee date in the lobby. We talked about work and caught up on office drama. It was really nice. I also think it put me at the front of Teresa’s mind, which was important. After all, Teresa’s going to get me in at The Toronto Film Group. Her, and Anderson.

After The Toronto Film Group, I walked home and took a nap. My foot is officially busted. I can’t run. It hurts so much. I’ve never experienced pain like this before. There’s basically an open gash on the bottom of my foot because of how dry it’s been. Also, due to the fact that I consumed enough food for an entire year last night, I was in no mood to eat today. I stripped down and got into bed.

During my nap, I had a very vivid nightmare of a man named Chris, who was giving me a second interview at The Clubhouse. In my dream, I had gone on a weird, four-hour break between my interviews. During that time, I’d somehow managed to lose parts of my outfit and also be visibly drunk. When I had my “interview” with Chris, he knew I was wasted, and then berated me for my finger tattoos. I woke up in a sweaty panic.

After that dream sequence, it was time to get ready for my date with Bryan tonight. I had been given strict instructions to be ready for 5 p.m., and that was it. Bryan planned the rest of the evening as a surprise. I invited Bryan up for a drink when he came to pick me up at the Witch Cave. We talked, made out for a bit, and then both took the subway to Union Station.

Bryan ended up taking me to an art gallery at the Harbourfront Centre. The main installation was a room filled with butterflies. Well, technically, they were moths. I’m not going to dive into that analysis tonight, though.

The gallery was beautiful. All of the installations were, really. In a blacked-out room, there was this one video projection piece of a man sitting in a car. Over time, the car began filling up with water. The man was completely unaware of the flooding, and didn’t move. Eventually, the background music grew louder. By the end, the water had completely filled the car and consumed the man inside of it, who was now trying to find a way out. The whole piece really struck me. I’m not sure what the artist’s intent was with the video. For me, it was about not realizing you’re in trouble until it’s too late. Until the evil grows so big that it consumes you, and you cannot escape it. I don’t want that to happen to me.

I really enjoyed the gallery. But, it made me sad. I don’t want to keep apologizing for the feelings or memories I have of Logan. I am entitled to those feelings. They may be a bit ridiculous at times, but they are genuine. I’m really struggling with moving on.

Tonight’s adventures in art reminded me of going to New York City galleries with Logan. Except, tonight with Bryan wasn’t as good. That’s why I was upset. Logan used to tell me about the artwork with such passion. He’d give me an in-depth lesson on the artist, history, and so much more. I want that. I want someone who is going to expand my mind. With Bryan, a part of me feels like that growth is capped. The problem is, I don’t know if this is me not being open to – or interested in – whatever Bryan might be able to teach me, or if there really isn’t anything more he can offer me. I feel shitty writing these thoughts down, to be honest.

After the gallery, Bryan said that we had time for a quick bite to eat. Meanwhile, I was now starving after not having eaten all day. We ended up getting a few appetizers at The Fox and the Fiddle behind TIFF. My residual weed haze from yesterday’s 420 lasted all day, by the way. I still felt disgusting during dinner.

Bryan’s last surprise was a pair of tickets to a comedy show at The Second City. Honestly, that was so sweet of him. Everything Bryan does is so sweet and genuine. He’s such a fantastic guy. But, he’s not the one. I can feel it when I kiss him. It’s so Disney Princess of me, but it’s the truth. It’s not true love’s kiss.

The Second City was funny. Afterwards, Bryan and I walked to my car in the rain, talking about random stuff along the way. I drove him to his apartment and parked outside. We made out for a while, and then Bryan said goodnight and went upstairs.

My plan was to return to the Witch Cave for the night. However, when I tried to start my car, I quickly realized that I had drained the battery while making out with Bryan. Fuck. As usual, it was Mom and Dad to the rescue. Dad called CAA. Around midnight – and after an hour of me sitting in my car but not telling Bryan – I got a boost and was on my way. I ran up to my apartment while the car was running, grabbed my stuff, and went to Casa Z to spend the night there instead. It was about 1:30 a.m. or later by the time I went to bed. Ex. Hausted. What a strange day.

Prince died today, which was quite the shocker. Weird, because I’ve been listening to Mariah’s “The Beautiful Ones” cover a lot lately. Naturally, I listened to it on my way to the house tonight. I’ve always loved that song. I connect with it on so many levels. I miss Logan. And I miss RX.

“Baby, baby, baby
Can’t you stay with me tonight?
Oh baby, baby, baby
Come on, don’t my kisses please you right?
You were so hard to find

The beautiful ones they hurt you
Every time”

— Mariah Carey, “The Beautiful Ones”

Goodnight xo