I hate people.

Every time I'm in Toronto for an extended period of time, say, over three weeks, I begin to go stir-crazy. And as I type this, I do feel a pang of guilt - it's nice being close to my family again, and having the modern conveniences of a toaster oven (in my apartment in Montreal, the oven works well enough to not necessitate a smaller version), television, the piano, and counter space. But at the same time, while in Montreal I don't get the experience the bliss of reclining in a comfy armchair watching Stephen Colbert, cup of tea in hand while the rest of my family is asleep, I have found myself going slightly stir crazy here. Perhaps because in Montreal, I am walking distance within EVERYTHING, and it always seems worth the trek, or because I know that just a few streets away, my similarly unemployed and broke friends are always up for sitting around talking.
I am stressing that there is nothing here to stress out about.
How did I used to do it, all those summers ago when I was in my mid-teens and never had to worry about things like jobs, when if somebody blew me off for the day, I would be content to sit inside and watch terrible day-time television for hours on end? In the past two weeks, I have formed an all-too-intimate relationship with Regis and Kelly that I would prefer to break off as soon as possible.


I actually think this town is making me a more awful person. Impatient, bitter, mean, FATTER BY THE HOUR, and just way more insecure and self-loathsome. I attribute it to the general atmosphere, the hours spent cooped up at home being less than productive...

Sorry, guys. This is my wallow post.

But the next time I write I will be back in Montreal, so hopefully I will be a much easier person to deal with then.