vancouver valentine

i live in a one bedroom basement apartment with my friend patrik. we are both stressed about trying to find a job. so today we were both out on the streets of vancouver handing out resumes with the hopes that someone will want us.

i am still waiting to be wanted, personally and professionally. 

virtual clink

by late afternoon i was out of resumes and sitting in a cafe drinking an earl grey latte. the playlist was an ironic collection of some romcom soundtrack. obviously the cafe dj did not take the time to scan the premisses to observe that there were only singles sipping on lattes. not a couple in sight. the soundtrack mocked me. 

my valentines day evening was spent navigating my way to some guys house so i could buy his iron off him, which i found on a craigslist ad. it was creepy and thrifty. when i got back to the apartment i discovered that the oven was not working. which soiled my plans for homemade sweet potato fries.

so instead i walked to the closest liquor store bought the cheapest bottle of chilled white and called it a night. got a message on skype from one of my best friends who is living in san diego. she skyped me and she too was having a glass of wine by herself, alone in her apartment.

so we did a virtual clink of our glasses and enjoyed our sad valentines day together. 

it was the perfect end to my day. minus my lingering  rage about the sweet potato fries. 

pit of doom feeling.

first photo in vancouver 

i am in vancouver.
before i left nova scotia i wasn't really worried or nervous. i felt like i was leaving on another trip.
i have only been here for a couple days but my feelings have definitely changed.
now i am constantly nervous, anxious and worried. i don't want to overstay my welcome at my friends place. which she keeps insisting isn't even close to an issue. and i get that it is mostly in my head, but i just can't help it.
everyday since i've arrived here all my thoughts have revolved around checking the apartment listings, contacting people and going to view places.
my unnerving emotions are even turning physical. i have a constant knot in my stomach that i can't get rid of. i have no interest in going out to eat or for drinks, and no interest in sight seeing at all. i won't be able to enjoy it knowing that i could be doing more to try and set up a place to call home for my time in vancouver.
i haven't even started to worry about finding a job. i am too focused on finding somewhere to rest my head where i don't have to live out of a bag.
i have two showings tonight. it would have been three, but as usual something came up with one of them. decided they weren't moving out, already found a tenant, i was too old, too young, too unemployed, too mature, too immature.
i know that in a month this will all seem like so long ago. i will be caught up in a job and this pit of doom feeling i am having will be a distant memory. but right now it is not a memory. right now i am in it. right in the middle. pit of doom.
my outlook on life feels as ominous as the grey skies in the photo above.

[fast forward four days]

i am now an official resident of vancouver. one of the places i went to see worked out. a basement apartment in an adorable little house with an adorable little family living above me. the pit of doom feeling has left my stomach, and i am now feeling naively positive about the prospect of me easily finding a job this week.
this whole beginning stage thing is weird. arriving in a new city, finding a place to call your own, getting to know your new neighbourhood, finding the cheapest grocery store and produce market.

last night my friend robyn and i waddled in the dark with an oversized futon mattress made of rocks flopped on top of our backs. robyn is about the height of an average 10 year old, which makes this visual even better. while waddling down the narrow pathway to the back of the house it hit me that this will be the longest i've lived in one place besides my home in nova scotia. i've been away from home longer, but never stationary, in one place. the thought of buying a utensil set gives me more anxiety than purchasing a one-way ticket.

no where near a grown-up.