More-than-halfway Update

Km's driven: 2,707 km

States crossed: 2.5

McDonalds meals eaten: 4

Energy drinks dranken: 3.5

Cd's listened to: 21

Nights spelt in car: 2

Hitchhikers NOT picked up: 2

I left late on day 1 (3pm) and therefore ended up in MooseJaw, SK for the night with no exciting stories to tell, or much to show for it. As punishement, I slept in the car.

On day 2, I successfully became a fugitive on the run when I crossed into the US border via Northern Dakota, but then decided to go check out the State Fair that was taking place... 3 hours killed - driving catch-up required. As punishment, I slept in the car.

This morning I got up with a new motivation. I stopped minimally (only in Chippewa Falls were Jack Dawson from Titanic was originally from) and drove the fuk out of my day (Did Minnesota, and 1/2 of Wisconsin). I got into Milwaukee at about 6, searched for the internet until 7:30, and found a motel by 9). Tomorrow's plan: Warped Tour and 4hrs of driving (as a reward).

Random things seen: a guy on a motorcycle driving 110km without a helmet... rebel!

So many obese people at McD's, note to self, vomit.

Many many mullets.

At least I amuse Myself.

Roadtrip update: pretty much uneventful. Thanks for checking out the blog peoples.

Alright alright, I'll update you on the most important stuff. Yesterday I drove the Canadian leg, through AB into SK and spent the night in MooseJaw. Uneventful.

This afternoon I crossed over into North Dakota, successfully claiming my fugitive title, since I am technically fleeing the country with that whole warrent out for my arrest. The guy at the border did give me a hard time, but not about the warrent, instead, about me being refused access to the states a few years back. Apparently, that's on my record also now. I tried to only minimally roll my eyes when I explained to him that I was 19 and trying to get into the states to see a punk rock show, that I did very little research on. It didn't help that I was the first person crossing that day, and that no one ever uses that border crossing, as it was via backroads.

Whatever, he eventually let me in, and I celebrated to myself, until I realized I didn't exchange any money *rolls eyes* About 4 years ago I got stuck in the States for a long time because no banks in Ohio would exchange Canadian money for me. They all eventually sent me to Kentucky, and all I really wanted was gas. At the Kentucky airport (which was the only alternative apparently) I was only able to exchange money if I had a boarding pass and so this game of me being stranded continued. Needless to say, I didn't want a repeat of this, so the money thing made me paranoid... but it's solved now.

North Dakota started out exciting enough, the towns a little different from the Canadian side. But soon, it just began to resemble Saskatchewan. Now I love SK when I'm on a trip with the roomie, and not pressed for time, because I'll do random stuff... but let's be realistic, no one wants to drive through prairies by themselves.

The solution: Let's just say that I girl can't have any more fun than driving down a road at a high speed on cruise control, the wind messing up her hair and some punk rock song blaring the speakers off her shitty ass car... wearing a short skirt, with a toy in between her legs. You suddenly get an appreciation for the straight and boring roads, realizing that you only have to stay in between the lines. And there's not even any cars around, so there's no worries of downshifting or changing lanes. It was a good afternoon!

That's all you get for right now people, as I'm sitting at an empty "visitor center" which has wireless randomly and need to get a move on to the next state!

.withdrawal.

Whenever I start to think that I'm going to miss somebody, I force myself to think of my friend SWAT Guy. Last fall, he married a girl from Scotland, and to this day, she lives in Scotland, and he lives in Ontario. Yes, they travel back and forth as much as they can, but their stay is limited to 3months at a time, and the money's tight. Hopefully her papers are all done up by the end of this year. But it makes me think, do I really miss this person that badly? Or am I just dramatic?

I leave in the morning, dreading my whole trip across the US to Ontario. I wish that I could hang out here, and go camping with people, and chill in the backyard with our new fire-pit. I wanna kick it with Sophie, and enjoy the guyfriend's company. Can it be true that I'm not depressed and therefore don't want to leave this content life that has formed itself for me in Calgary?

The trip won't be half as bad as I make it out to be in my head (fingers crossed), and I'll return relatively unchanged and with a few new stories. But no doubt, there will be some serious withdrawal from those I've grown accustomed to. *tear* (yeah right) see you in 2.5 weeks!

Just me, some punk rock, and the road.

When I came to AB with the best friend 4 summers ago, I had taken daddy's car. A 96 diesel Jetta, which saved us some gas money initially, but has caused nothing but problems from Saskatoon on. But none-the-less, a promise is a promise, and daddy will get his beat-up piece-of-shit car named "Jinx'd" back at the end of this month.

As of tomorrow, I take off for my road-trip by myself. As much as I love people and would agree to anyone coming along for the ride (some people are invited more than others), with passport issues and work schedules, it looks like this one is all me.

I could round off a list of worst-case scenarios, but I'd rather not think of those, and it's hardly my style; so we'll pretend I'm going to have this awesome soul-searching trip over the next 5 days. Filled with nothing but open roads and nostalgic memories from my old-school cd's.

It won't be like one of my Jeep-adventures while driving through rainstorms with no roof and a bikini on.... rolled down windows will have to do. And I can't say that I don't have mixed feelings about the trip. I mean, realistically, when's the last time I've spent 5 days alone?

Rebel.

I've always been telling people that I was a rebel. I'll sneak in alcohol to a show or a bar. I'll sneak backstage to meet the band. I've hopped fences and danced on cars. Hell, I've even cheated on a college exam... how dare you assume I'm a "square"!

Last week, something happened that gives me another reason to confirm that I'm a rebel. I mean, I try so hard to be, so this just confirms it: there's a warrant out for my arrest. Here's the story in it's original form.

It's 9:15pm and I"m sitting at the Canadian customs between the Montana border. Outside it's pouring out and we're all tired as fuk, having only gotten 5hrs of sleep after drinking a bit too much, and we're miserable. We've been here for about an hour now, after a mishap of me not being able to promptly find my passport, and my dad mentioning he had 200 native-reserve smokes with him. Turns out it's illegal for him to be in possession of those, and he's inside now talking with officers.. I guess I should be holding y breath that no huge fine comes out of this. And so, I sit here, cold, wet, and in silence, rolling y eyes at how smokers inconvenience my life. Then I get a knock on my window and am asked to step out into the rain. Turns out ther's a warrant out for my arrest cuz I'm a motha-fuken-bad-ass-rebel. I love Babb Montana, but not this much! -July 13th

So while searching my dads past records, I guess the officers got bored and searched a bit of mine. A c-train ticket could apparently get you into a shit-load of trouble. All kinds of thoughts ran through my head when the officer told me "you've got to be fuken kidding me", "I don't have time for this bullshit", "I need to get the guys to Calgary, and me to work in a day" ect. ect.

And with me having to drive across to Ontario next week, I guess I should go and get this shit settled before they try to arrest me for fleeing the country or something. But seriously, how bad-ass would I be if I got taken away with cuffs on my wrists? -think about it!-

I propose a challenge

To whomever is willing to accept it (I have a top 3 in mind, but don't wanna share), let's bring AnnaB some amusement in her life.

Prefix: with disappointment, I am sad to say that my previous plan of hiring Girlie a boy to clean her house off of craigslist, did not happen. Not to say that it won't, but my amusement for 3 weeks ago has not been fullfilled.

Though I had a challenge for a friend of mine over Stampede (which I'm anxiously waiting to get an update on, and it might make me happy and therefore give me something to write about) I feel like another one is in order.

The Challenge: You always watch movies and see the scene where a girl or guy are on 2 dates at the same time and try to manage both. I do that with promo jobs, and know that it's not always easy to do, but sometimes you get away with it. I want someone to go into my bar of choice (The Cage) where there is a room upstairs and one downstairs, and for one hour, do a two-date-at-a-time type deal (even though it could just be hitting on two different people).

I feel like the 1.hilarity of watching someone multi-task this will amuse me. 2.seeing if the persons being hitting on end up in the same room, will do the same, and 3.pulling it off and getting 2 phone numbers out of the deal, would be ideal.

People get "played" all the time. I'm just bored and mean enough to make it a challenge. Anyone?

Dependencies

Talking of my detox, got me to thinking about dependencies. We really do brainwash ourselves into thinking we need something, when we could live perfectly well without it. Honestly, giving up anything you love, or even, have grown accustomed to, is a challenge; but eventually, you need to challenge yourself "just cuz" and when you do, why would you cheat, if you'd only be disappointing yourself?

I think it's funny what you realize you're addicted to something. Alcohol, drugs, assholes. Those are the main ones. But even the little things like lying, driving, routine...

It just makes me think about how easy it is to change things, but no one feels it necessary until it's borderline too late. You don't remember what it's like to wake up not-hungover. You think working an 8hr day without a joint is impossible. You don't know why you feel guilty cuz of him, but you do. You bury yourself in your lies, hoping to not get found out. ect ect.

But hey, I've acknowledged that I don't need Jack. But I'll still go out and drink, so maybe I'm a hypocrite for even writing these thoughts.

Catching up.

Hey all. It's been another few weeks of hectic bullshit work stuff, with a splash of family coming to visit; and in my stress-filled-state, blogging just wasn't a priority. Go figure.

When hanging out in my bed and getting my shit together the next few days, chances are I'll vent about life as a whole and the little things that irritate me, and give some updates in general.

A little bit of what's been going on: About 6 of 7 weeks ago after a trip-went-wrong to Fort Mac for a promo, where I had officially out-drank myself, I came back to Calgary vowing to do a detox. No booze, minimal pop & energy drinks until Stampede. Considering I've only consumed whiskey, diet cola and red rain the last 3 years or so of my life, (seriously, no water, no juice, no milk) this seemed like a valid challenge.

The detox went well, other then putting an even bigger halt to my "numbers game". The game which is now pretty much non-existent as personal crisis' and a non-buzzed state made me completely disinterested. Note to self: start it back up again.

I followed my rules of staying sober through the "hardships" (*rolls eyes*) of my life, with the exception of shot, on Canada Day, after a stressful day at work and dealing with drunk-ards on Stephen Ave. I walked into a bar, got a shot of JD with a side of coke, then promptly walked out. The shot went down into my stomach with a mocking tone, reminding me the whole time as to the reason I went onto detox. It sat in my throat through half the ctrain ride tone, with the chase barely helping. And as I walked home, I was a bit content with the way it had gone down. I had began to wonder if I missed drinking as much as I had brainwashed myself to think. If, when I started drinking again, I would just fall back into my old ways, as if denying my body what it so desperately wanted. But my body didn't miss alcohol as much as my mind. I didn't want to do another shot, I was happy detox would last one week after that, and I was happy with my having accomplished it.

But detox is over now. Let's be honest: I'm nowhere near as hardcore as I was previous to it. I'm a full out lightweight when I go out these days, which may cause some problems for the upcoming wedding, cuz... who wants to see that sober! So... detox... check.

Next?

Psycho

A few months back, the roomie posted the definition of "psycho" on her fb page, and we all laughed at the fact that a friend of mine was dating a guy who matched this description. Since some time has gone back and she is no longer "with" him, I thought I'd share the insanity that surrounds the outside of my social circle on a semi-regular basis. I'm not one to get into anyone else's business, unless it's for random gossiping around a round table full of booze. That, I do indulge in. I'm straight up a self-absorbed person and I'd rather talk about myself than anyone else. Hence this blog. It all makes sense now, doesn't it?

So, a couple weeks ago, while hanging out in my bedroom late at night, I get a phone call from The Magician (my friends ex). I instinctively put it on "silent" as it was midnight, he's not a friend of mine, and I wasn't in the mood to chitchat. (What you don't know about "The Magician", is that he is the possessive-jealous type that used to call his girlfriend consecutively a record number of times). Apparently this trend has carried on to her friends, cuz at 12:09 I get a second phone call, and a third at 12:12. At this point in time, I shot a txt to my friend (his ex) to make sure she was alright, cuz the phone calls were unjustifiable. No out-of-the-ordinary response from her.

I proceeded to get another call at 1:30 and one more at 2:12, all the while wondering why he wouldn't just txt me with what the issue was. Finally I get a txt: "I'm calling because your friend is talking about killing herself". Another txt right after, and one more after that. Since I knew she was alright and just upset at shit going on in her life, I ignored all calls and txts from the Magician, until it got ridiculously late and I txt'd him simply saying "Lose this number"

The response: "Wow. What kind of friend are you? I call and tell you that she says she's gonna try and kill herself and you can't even find it in your heart to see how serious this is? You should be happy that I care enough about your friend to try and do something. Deleting your number now. Sorry to have bothered you. Won't ever happen again"

Then he proceeded to call the cops on her.

Just to clarify: I'm a bitch. I care about myself more than I care about you. I'll be brutally honest to the point of hurting your feelings and won't feel remorseful if I make you cry, because it was probably justifiable in my mind. But I am not a bad friend.

I'm not the person who's shoulder you could come and cry on, and I hate hearing you whine about life. But you're allowed to vent. And 99% of the time, I'll drink it off with you until you pass out and are ready to face another day.

My friend, was having bad day, and said "I wanna die", not "I'm going to kill myself". Normally I would've drank with her, but I was on detox, and pre-occupied (with a boy!). I checked up on her, neither one of my other roommates got a distress call, so clearly it wasn't all that serious. But for this asshole to call me a bad friend for the 2nd time in my short few months that I've known him... that's bullshit... and so it got me thinking. (read newer blog for my random thoughts. It'll be more light-hearted than this one)

Paranoia

Paranoia is such a foreign concept to me... like compassion... yeah I've heard of the term and maybe have seen others go through phases of it, but it never really registered with me.

I'm the person who likes to hitchhike in foreign countries, and travel by myself. I climb mountains without a harness and never really think twice about anything bad happening. And when something goes wrong, I'm the first to justify it. To find an explanation, even if it may be unreasonable.

When "bad stuff" happens, I do one of two things: I ignore it, and continue on as if nothing happened and life is perfect. Or I walk away. I move to a different place, or I distance myself. But never have I experienced a feeling, where bad stuff happened, and therefore made me paranoid afterward. I've never had the need to be suspicious of everything and everyone, doubtful that they were telling me the truth and unsure if I could trust them.

Nope, that's never happened before. That's probably why I've had about 6 wallets/purses stolen and my jeep broken into like 10 times, while parked in the same parking lot. I shrug it off and go on thinking that it won't happen again.

But now, for the first time in my life, I'm terrified that stuff might "go wrong" again, and am paranoid.

I just don't know how all you paranoid people out there deal with this feeling everyday? I mean, a couple hours and I feel sick to my stomach, I can't imagine this on a regular basis. I must fix it.