Lemon-aid Me.

Whether or not you noticed, I was missing last week. Oh, I attempted to find the time to sit down and word-vomit a post and meet my deadline, but it just wasn’t happening. There are several reasons for that.

First off, a coworker lost a family member and had to go back to her hometown to be with her family. I stepped in to take over a couple of her shifts, one of which resulted in me working a seventeen hour shift. No big deal, but it does end up being physically and emotionally exhausting to kiss that much ass for that many hours in a row.

Then I attended a post-Christmas Christmas party with my coworkers, largely funded by the higher ups. When I say “largely” I mean they pitched in maybe $80 to cover our food, and we all shelled out our own money to get blackout drunk anyway. Whether it was the stress and excitement of being a free woman in Toronto or simply my way of blowing off my workaholic steam, I drank enough to wind up cabbing it home with two chaperones as I puked my guts all over the cab and sidewalk. The evening is nothing more than snapshots in memory thanks to Pabst, tequila and a dubious drink called “Lynchburg Lemonade” that was served to me in a fishbowl. I recall informing the cab driver that he should just bring me straight to the morgue, as I felt like Amy Winehouse and was probably going to die.

The fishbowl of doom.

Kaley made sure I didn’t fall down the concrete steps that lead to my basement abode and I proceeded to pass out with my head in my own toilet bowl. I puked in my sleep, which is definitely something I’ve never done before. I woke only because my knees were cramping and my shins were cold. My head was tilted forward and there was a funny smell emanating from beneath me, sort of a combination of cleaning solution, vomit and alcohol.

The two day hangover was enough to remind me I’m out of practice when it comes to being a party girl.

There may or may not be alcohol in here.
I’m great at bad timing.
I don’t have permission to post this.

I spent the next seven days working the closing shift at the store, successfully fucking up my sleeping pattern and dozing away what little personal time I had. As I write this, it’s three A.M. and I’m guzzling coffee in an attempt to stay awake all night, go to work for five A.M., and reset my tortured circadian rhythm. It’s not the most ideal way to deal with this, but it’s worked (painfully) for me in the past.

This will set off another seven day run of shifts, this time opening instead. If I wasn’t familiar with shift work sleep disorder before (I was, actually) I will be by the end of the week. I must admit, I’m looking forward to working during the day again. And having Saturday and Sunday off will be a real treat.

All of this has led me to realize I’m spending far too much time at work. While the extra money is certainly useful for furnishing my still-semi-bare apartment, it’s not worth it if I have to sacrifice all my time. I had to wait nearly a week before I found the time to go to a store and purchase my long-awaited kitchen table. My boyfriend volunteered to lug the damn thing home for me on my dolly cart, and then he even put it together for me. He’s basically my hero and I can’t even explain how lovely it is to be able to hang out in my kitchen without sitting on the cold floor.

But I need some time to myself. I need to get back to doing the things that make me happy. This has inspired me to take advantage of my day shifts and schedule some open mic shows this week. I’ve also set aside some time to sit down and begin recording demos of the songs I’ve already written and put some new lyrics to music as well. See, while I’ve been traveling an hour each way to work, I’ve been using the time to jot down lyric scraps and concept ideas and now that I have a home base I’m ready to begin working on them. Music is my true love and ideal livelihood, and letting it slip away while I slave away in a coffee shop is simply unacceptable. I’ve got coffee skills to pay the bills but I need to feed my soul at the same time, and music is how I accomplish that.

Apart from this lovely blog, I have a site dedicated solely to my music. If you’re so inclined, I’d love to have you visit and check out some of my tunes.

On Wednesday, I arrived to find wonderful Valentine-themed messages on the communication board in the back room courtesy of my coworkers Hannah and Tori.




I guess they like the little notes I typically scatter around the store for the next shifts.

As my parting gift, here are two pictures of the massive snowfall Toronto had on Feb. 8 and a photo of my sis and I from our pre-drinking adventures before the Marilyn Manson concert.




I’ll be back here next week with another dazzling look into the life of a cliched barista/musician/poet!

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Sorting out my life by writing about it.

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