mike the mountain

New job. Going in to sign the contract tomorrow morning.

New home. Found an amazing loft, great neighbourhood, patio, garage, etc., moving in as soon as I sign the aforementioned contract.

Booked my flight to Vancouver for my friend Skatie’s wedding on July 2nd, where I GET TO GIVE HER AWAY AT THE ALTER!!!!!

and now I’m sitting here watching The Man Show.

I’m so happy right now.

If you were here I’d take you out for ice cream.

You and Kari Byron, who I have decided is pretty much my perfect woman.

I haven’t even started back in the world and I’m already getting sick of corporate red-tape bull$#!t!!

I’m STILL waiting for my (hopefully) final interview for the investments job. I’m the only one still in contention for the position, I just have one or two more managers who have to “check the box” so they can give me the offer. I had hoped it all would have been cleared up last week, since this most recent weekend was Canada’s Victoria Day long weekend (A.K.A. the “Two-Four”), and a bunch of my friends always rent a cottage for three days of beer, BBQ, and fireworks. Oh, and the Roll gang and I were supposed to go up to Muskoka (cabin country) for three days of shooting this week, accomodations comped by a local B&B. And I could really use some time out of the city right now.

But as fate should have it, I still reside in employment limbo. Which means that I couldn’t go with my friends to the cottage, or with my directors to the shoot. Instead I’m still in the city, still waiting. Still broke, still homeless. Oh, and the bastard that took 2 months to pay me for bartending at the beginning of the year… yeah, his cheque bounced. I so saw that coming, here we go again!

I have started shopping for sublets, operating on the assumption that I will be hired very soon. I’m trying to stay positive, things are building to such a climax, but it’s like a suspense movie, where everything has to wait until the last possible second! I’m scraping the bottom of my financial barrel, accomodation eviction is right on the cusp, bills be piling up, car needs her regular tuning, poor Susie (iBook) is getting worse every day…

Deep breath… Serenity now… Everything’s going to be ok…

First Lesson Learned: Just because you see two guys beating the crap out of each other DOESN’T mean you should immediately jump in a try to break them up.

Second Lesson Learned: If you DO decide to try and be a hero, first check BEHIND you to see if there happens to be 20 or 30 large, violent men rushing to join in the fun and looking for a convenient target.

Third Lesson Learned: Duck.

OK, wow, I’ve really been letting this writing stuff slide. It’s not like I don’t have time to spare right now either…

JobSitRep’s looking great. I won’t bore you with the details (this time anyway), but I’m about 95% sure I’ll be getting an offer on Wednesday. Excatly the one I originally wanted when I started my full-time search in February.

If I get the offer, next step will be to find a nice little sublet for the summer. That way I’m covered for a place to live (for when Bill finally finds a new job and we lose the condo), while giving me a few months to find more long-term accomodations. I’m really hoping to stay away from any more high-rise, stacked box apartment buildings.

I’ve been flirting with the idea of renting a house with a few friends, Bill, JP, and Lisa maybe. Large enough that we can have our own privacy, nice social space, maybe even an office/workspace, a yard for BBQ…

I like to be social, to entertain. I like to get to know my neighbours. I like to throw parties. I have been able to do none of this in such a long time. I want enough room to have more than 4 people over. I want to have enough people eating that we can buy real groceries without losing half of every loaf of bread to mold.

I don’t know what it is abotu big apartment buildings that is so anonymous, so impersonal. Whenever I’ve lived in a house, I’ve known all my neighbours. In apartments, I’m lucky if I can even recognize anyone living on my floor.

I don’t get it. Maybe it’s something to do with trying to subconsciously reinforce one’s own privacy. When you have your own space, you feel more free to be open, because you have a refuge, a place to retreat and be safe.

An apartment may be your space, but you never forget that there are strangers on all sides of you, seperated by only a thin layer of paint and dust. If I really wanted, I could put my fist right through that wall and into someone else’s “space”. This is reinforced every time someone above you steps a little too heavy, or you walk past a door behind which there’s a good strong curry on the stove. You think of it when you force yourself to keep your music a little lower than you’d like, or you bring home a girl who’s a real screamer and your headboard’s leaving dents in the wall. It’s not just your space, and on some level you resent that.

Ah well, one day I’ll have my mansion where I can stomp around naked wearing ski boots punking out with a stereo that measures volume on the Richter scale.