it was the rest of times...

Note: The following may not be interesting to anyone but myself. Read on at your own discretion.

Two months off, no strings attached. Sounds like paradise, right?

Well, yes and no.

I'll explain.

I quit my job at the end of June in order to take some quality time off and enjoy my summer. Since returning to Yellowknife from school, it seemed every job I've had required flexible hours, leaving town or working holidays and, as a result, I missed out on a lot of fishing and camping trips and sports tournaments with friends -- the very things that make the North worth living in.

So I figured I'd kick around Yellowknife for July and August, soak up the sun, read a ton of books (something I found impossible while working at the paper), rekindle some basic cooking skills and take part in every single gathering I could. You know, just wake up and do what I feel like doing type stuff. Also, my parents had a couple things they needed done on the house, which would keep me occupied and from becoming a completely lethargic lud. And I felt I had reached the end of my time in the North and needed some time to plot a plan to get out.

Well after seven weeks, I can say I've definitely had a couple weeks of summer serenity, but I've also learned a lot about myself -- namely, if there's nothing to motivate me each day, I become completely unmotivated.

Again, I'll explain.

I don't know if mistakenly being given anti-depressants instead of antibiotics in June had something to do with my mood or if it was the nearly complete lack of summer weather, but it's been a bizarre month and a half. With the exception of some visits home from friends, a fishing trip to the East Arm and some ball tourneys, the summer has been pretty uneventful and -- believe it or not -- stressful and, quite often I've been bored.

When left to my own devices, I stay up late, sleep in even later, and the habit first thing in the morning has been to pick up the laptop and check the same 10 webpages, 10 times, burning an hour before slipping on some clothes and getting a coffee.

Plans are made in my mind, ideas blow around in my brain, but largely, they go ignored.

I've read one quarter of four books, and half of another. For one week or so, I cooked myself a meal nearly every evening, but since I've resorted back to delivery and Delissio. I have a mandolin begging to be mastered, story ideas pleading to be pursued, but I'll sit stupid in front of a newscast or sports highlights for an hour, watching the same stories over and over.

I think I was a little deluded and overly optimistic getting into this and I'll tell you why. Last September, upon returning from Iqaluit, I had about a week off. I was ecstatic and told myself I would just watch movies and relax. Well, three hours into my first day, I was restless and bored stiff.

This summer, nearly all of my friends work during the day and so most of my time is spent thinking of things to do. Also, the money has been disappearing quicker than it did while I was working because, no surprise, when you don't have anything to do the next day, you have less keeping you from going out at night -- and for longer. As another 'no-shit' consequence, I've found I've been partying more and when an activity which is typically intended to blow-off steam after a week of work becomes something you do even though you have no steam to blow off, it's not as fun.

As a result, I've learned that being unemployed is not for me. I'm not sure exactly what that means. Am I a sad product of our capitalist conditioning (where one is made to feel useless if they are not part of the machine) or am I just stuck wondering what I'm supposed to do next or where I belong? By trying to save money, I'll stay home. By staying home and panicking (a little bit) about money, I start wondering what I should do next and trying to reconcile rationality (stay in Yellowknife for a little longer, make some good money and then leave the North with a job already in place in the south) with my longing to try something new (just up and leaving and trying to make a go for myself somewhere else -- wherever that may be.)

I'm not at all intending this to come off as whiney or anything. It's just my coming to a realization that I need to have something to take up my days, because when it's up to me to fill them myself, I'm more likely to lay on a couch thinking about things to do rather than going out and doing things.

I've taken to doing puzzles for fuck sakes. I'm pretty sure a puzzle should never be the biggest accomplishment in a day for a young man in his prime.

I came up with an idea last week that would have made the summer far more interesting. I could have asked friends or my fellow slingers of lingo to suggest a new skill, recipe or activity for me to try each day. Of course with my sin-filled mind, the idea later devolved to having people put up odds as to whether I could accomplish the task. That would have been boss.

Oh well. C'est la vie.

Anyways, I do have some stuff planned. I'm flying out of here Aug. 31 to Edmonton then maybe on to Calgary for a day before heading to Chicago, NY and Boston to watch some ball games, see some sights, and take in a comedy show or two. From there, it's off to Iceland (the land of hotsprings, volcanoes and free coffee, apparently) for a couple weeks. I need to experience that feeling of seeing something entirely new again. You know the feeling: you step off the plane and you can already feel new parts of your brain tingling, like it's waking up, rejuvenated, firing away for the first time in months.

After Iceland, it's all up in the air. May visit some friends in Halifax with Patch and if I have enough coinage, a quick jaunt to Ireland. If that doesn't pan out, it's time to pan Canada for a job, and if that doesn't work, I could be back in Yellowknife for Christmas, to try to get a government job -- or another high-paying job -- play hockey with the boys, scan the south for work and then leave with my pockets full and with a guaranteed job after next summer. Although another winter makes me cringe.