Our week in Toronto is over. In my last post I said coming to Toronto was like waking up. Well, leaving feels like dying…and going to hell.
Things have been happening and I’ve been absent. So much for writing my “two posts a week”. Sorry.
BUT I have news. Things are happening.
As a retail worker, the holiday season means I have less and less time for, well, anything.
Despite the fact that I’ve only written a single post since the beginning of this month, people have kept subscribing to my blog. I appreciate the vote of confidence, and I suppose I should start writing again to make your loyalty worthwhile.
I recently read an old diary of mine from when I was fourteen-ish. I had tried to make it fun in the beginning in the way I’d thought diaries were supposed to be, like YA contemporary novels and 90s teen flicks. But I gave up about halfway through.
Well, I don’t have any school to go back to in September. I thought I might take some classes but that’s not looking like it’ll happen until May. I’ve got a part-time job, but as stated, it’s only part-time. So what will I do the rest of the time?
Yesterday evening, I found myself with one-hundred-and-sixty-six other people in a room not even close to big enough. I was breathing in their sweat and sweating out their spit. We were all gathered in this room awaiting our turn to perform for an audience of fifty-five people–which is supposed to be a lot. It was the Performing Arts showcase, a brilliant medley of dancing, singing, and acting, all around one extremely important holiday: Christmas.