That's the way we get by

In Safeway this morning, where I stopped to pick up my delicious petroleum-based coffee creamer, I paid for my stuff and the kind lady working at the till asked something like, "You going to get by there, hon?" and I looked at her blankly before I realized it was a colourful way of offering Safeway carryout service. It seemed like a general question about my wellbeing, as if she might as well have said, "I know your work hours are increasing, and you're trying to plan your wedding, and you haven't done dishes for a week, not to mention the windchill-- are you going to get by?" and the answer that first came to my mind was, no, but that was just the early-morning, pre-coffee funk talking. I think I am going to get by. BET ON IT, SAFEWAY LADY.

I watched Gangs of New York on Saturday. Have you seen this movie, Internet? It's looooong. And bloody. And I didn't like it at all; in fact, I think it's safe to say I disliked it. However, it did provide an excellent opportunity to exclaim "Acting!" and "Filmmaking!" at regular intervals, as it had plenty of both. The Gangs of New York philosophy of filmmaking appears to be: you cannot over-flashback. Audiences have short attention spans. Also: can we make the blood kind of explode outward more?

Also, I swam 1km yesterday.

If you think the acoustics are great in your shower, you should try an indoor pool.

Mixing metaphors

OK, so, since I started swimming two weeks ago, I've been slowly increasing the number of laps of the pool I swim. When I used to swim in an Olympic-sized pool, I would swim 1km. Last Thursday (or whenever, I forget) I got to 50 lengths of my pool (25 laps). Today, obsessed with upstaging myself, I swam 52. This sounds impressive, and on some level, considering how lazy I am, it truly is. But.

I also estimated, using my patented "walking and counting" method, the length of said pool last week. And I think it is 13m long, or less than 1/3 the size of an Olympic pool. This means that I have to swim 80 lengths to swim 1km. And that, friends, is discouraging, but not impossible. I don't think I can even count to 80, so I will have to devise some sort of counting device to keep at the end of my lane. Like an abacus, but with more levers.

Actually, the more I think about it, the more I want this device to surround me with a halo of gold light every time I hit the end of the lane, like when your character levels in Warcraft. That would be an enticement.

Anyway, it's still better than nothing, which is what I do the rest of the time.

Weekend Report

This weekend feels like it has already gone on for a year. I don't know why I'm so exhausted, but there you have it, Internet. Unemployment is tiring! (Actually, hanging out with people for hours and hours is tiring, but the other version is pithier.) I woke up feeling like death warmed over, and I went for restaurant breakfast, a swim and a shower, and I feel 15% better. But 15% better than death warmed over is still not too great, actually. (Over the past week I've been swimming in the pool in my building, which is something I've always promised myself I would do. There are all kinds of things wrong with this pool: it's tiny, it's saltwater [which means it's way too warm for lap swimming], it's so shallow that I stub my toes on the bottom. But, more importantly than all of those things, it's in my building. I need to stop being so disgustingly lazy, and swimming is an easy way for me to exercise, because it allows me an immersion in my own thoughts that is hypnotic. James and I are also discussing taking a yoga class together, which is another step on the Becoming a Couple Everyone Else Hates Because They're So Co-Dependent and Adorable road.)

I applied for a job at the CBC today, and one as the music librarian at a local radio station on Friday. Being a film or music archivist/librarian would be so freakin' cool, I can't even tell you. Hipster cred through the roof. And if I thought I had the remotest chance of actually getting such a job, I'd be happy, but that is not the case. I'm trying not to get discouraged, but it is rapidly getting to the point where I am going to have to get another, random job, just to have money, and then I will completely lose my motivation to search for another, proper job because I will be too tired, and then I will work at a bookstore/coffee place/whatever forever, muttering to myself about my masters degree and how no one respects me. All I'm saying is that this incredibly depressing future is inevitable.

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Currently listening to: Damien Rice - 9 Crimes
via FoxyTunes