Hush, I'm here now. This is the part where you rest your head on my bosom, I stroke your hair, and you take in my every smell. Lucky for you, I'm wearing deodorant.
So, how in the H-E-double hockey sticks have you been, my friends? I'll take your silence as a positive response. Me? How have I been? Well. Let me give you a brief run down of the past 2 and a half months in the world of Chelsey Sparkle (ne Martin).
Early March 2011, I moved to exciting Boston, Ontario. Population: 7. And we happen to be 4 of those 7. Home to a church, an elementary school and a general store (which is open until 11 pm, holla!), there's usually a whole mess of nothing afoot. We have been living (myself with no mode of transportation) without telephone, internet and cable. That's right, I'm a certified Mennonite. You know, without any of the manual labour, churning butter or wearing dresses. I'm still a big advocate for pants.
At first it was like "Okay, I'm stuck out in Boston without a car, but let's be honest here. How often did I leave the house anyway, right? Gotta make the best of every situation."
to
"Okay, I'm stuck out in Boston without a car, and I can't watch any tv. But that's alright, I didn't watch much tv before anyway. This will be a good time to catch up on reading."
to
"Okay, I'm stuck out in Boston without a car, I can't watch tv and I have no phone to get ahold of anyone. Not ideal, and I'm starting to get pretty bored."
to
"I'm stuck in lame-o fucking Boston with no car, tv, phone or internet. I might take up bulimia as a hobby."
A few of my favoured activities in my early days of Boston, included staring at the wall, crying, and staring at the wall while crying. On occasion, I would put on Toy Story 3 for background noise, and attempt to put my head through a window based on the fact alone, that I had to watch Toy Story 3 for the six thousand, nine hundred and eighty seventh time. Good movie though.
So, approximately 75 days later, things are definitely looking up. I have channelled all of that negative wall staring energy into more productive things, like doing the dishes once a week, or reading a book I've already read about a dozen times. My tear ducts have seen an improvement, that's for certain.
Why cry, when you can sleep?
You're probably wondering "Jesus H. Christ, Chelsey Sparkle (ne Martin), you've had so much time on your hands, why haven't you been writing up a tropical storm of sorts? And what does the 'H' in 'Jesus H. Christ' stand for?"
The answer to that is easy. It stands for Helen.
I know my writing already comes off as depressing, self loathing, and self deprecating to the max, and that's on a good day when I'm not so depressed and stuck in oblivion that I find myself counting the hair follicles on the back of my hand.
I have zero by the way, because a real lady doesn't have any hair on her hands.
So yes, I was doing some writing. It got a little hard to read between tear drop smudges and big rips in the paper where I decided to jam my pen in and pull.
But I would like you all to rest assured that my funk is now a thing of the past. I was all like... "Hey you funk, get the funk out of here." I would say it was nice knowing you, but let's be honest, it wasn't even!
Here's to positive attitudes, lots of writing and pants!
I look forward to writing to you soon, friends. If you could see my face, you would see that it's a happy one. Or at least that's what it feels like. It might look a little like I don't like your hair cut.
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