While at the first of my two jobs today, I wrote a really morose and somewhat down-spirited entry. I don't necessarily feel like transcribing it here; a lot of it had to do with my frustration on the job front and my pros and cons regarding moving out.

However, I will morose a bit... I'm finding it hard to keep in touch with my friends with this two job thing, and that saddens me. I know I need to talk to Mark to make that stuff okay, but I never seem to have any free time. I think I have about three hours a week to myself that aren't between the midnight and early morning hours. I haven't spoken to Ben for ... well, the extent of the summer, really. I'm sure much of that has to do with the Mark situation, and the other much has to do with his girlfriend, but it's sad to see how a friendship that I thought was tighter than that seems to have unravelled fairly quickly.

Jay I speak with fairly intermittently to begin with; he and I are both all over the place for our schedules, and I know he's pretty wrapped up in his new girlfriend. They're probably making kissy faces at each other right now. ;)

As for friends in the city... well, haven't seen much of them in the last while, either. It's just been one thing after another; I wind up learning about my friend's lives and happenings from their websites, or seeing them when they come into the bookstore. Aside from that, barely speak with anyone.

It made me realize how infrequently I start conversations. I rarely seem to call people first or even start ICQ/MSN conversations first. Partly it's out of selfishness, if such a term can be used semi-improperly; I find that my time online is so limited that I'm usually only on long enough to do what I want/need to do before I depart and don't check to see who's online, or I'm busy writing or some such and because Trillian doesn't notify me of people's comings and goings, I'm not noticing who's there and who isn't.

The other part is out of fear of rejection, even when I know it's not personal. It's weird; there's a part of me that fears calling someone to try to make plans with them because I'm afraid they'll either not be home or they'll have other plans, or simply not want to do what I'm suggesting and won't suggest anything else. Hrm, how to explain... I dunno. I'm not feeling nearly as down on myself as this entry sounds, I'm just trying to explain to people why I don't call them. :)

I try to avoid calling E at home now, 'cause I figure his roommates are fed up with me calling when he's not around. I feel like D's folks aren't too keen on me, so I avoid calling him at home. :) I have no idea what number to reach Glord at, and I'll call Shawn, but he never uses his cell, so if he ain't at work or at home, then forget it. I need to get back in the habit of calling people out of the blue, but not too many people enjoy getting called at 2 a.m. -- when I'm free. :)

Ah well... I'm sure it'll all change when I move out and I'm so lonely and desperate for company that I'll be calling people at all hours and begging them to come hang out. :)

As for this that and the other thing... not much going on. Got a pizza the other day from pizza guy, so D and he met. E found my missing earring and dropped it off for me at work, so that was nice. C seems to pay the most attention to me when he's between ladies (or so I speculate), so he's been ignoring me lately, or at least not 'flirting' with me (as D terms it); if his flirting consists of tripping me when I walk by and flinging plastic cards at me, I can pass, thanks.

I finished reading Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde today. As I've been writing this entry, I keep glancing over at my book shelves and chuckling silently at the juxtaposition of books that occupy space; along the topmost shelf (it's a small bookcase), from right to left is Fearless Speech, by Michel Foucault, Story of O, by Pauline Reage, then a romance novel, a collection of fantasy short stories, then Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck, The Hundred Secret Senses by Amy Tan, Charlotte's Web, Homer's The Illiad, Have Another Cookie (a gift book that Big A gave me; it's Snoopy cartoons) and then The Outsider, by Albert Camus... then another whackload of romance novels until the shelf is mostly filled. I look forward most of all to arranging my library and my writing space when I move out.

I've been feeling the creativity bubbling around the last few days. I have a burning urge to sit and write a novel or novella, but no real plotline ironed out just yet. Ever since reading The Big U by Neal Stephenson, I've wanted to write something to do with university students, but I haven't figured out yet where I want to take the story. Typically when I write essays, I don't have it plotted out; the same thing happens usually when I write my articles for Whore's Boudoir or for here. However, for a story of any length, I think that it would help to have an outline, or so I speculate. I know that at least one or two people have said (to my face or secondarily) that my novel is not particularly good, and that's fine, it wasn't meant to be. But it also reinforces my belief that I ought to have something in mind (besides "characters have a lot of crazy sex") before I write. No matter, I need the time first anyhow.

For now, I'm off to bed. I'm kinda racing the clock here; I have to be up early for my shift tomorrow and then figure out how my afternoon/evening is going to work out. I'm supposed to meet up with some people for MiniPutt, but I'm not sure at all how that's going to work out, since I'll be arriving after their tee-off time anyhow. I may just see if I can meet up with people afterwards, depending on how things go for me at work and sleep-wise. Oddly enough, sleeping in until 12:15 (when Mom called and woke me up) seems to have left me feeling somewhat rested. :P