That said, if this is still going two months from now, you can rest fairly assured it will continue ad infinitum.
To recap: Not only did I only have three posts, but none of those were the post I promised in my introductory post. The post regarding the Seneca Health Centre's inclusion of "Alternative Medicinces" was never finished; it languished in the purgatory that is unpublished. It wasn't very interesting anyway.
Not long after writing the three-and-a-partial posts I gave up on the entire school thing. My collar was gripped tightly by the double fists of depression and procrastination, and I was shaken to submission! Or something like that. Memories of such down periods tend to be blurry at best. I drank a lot, moaned a lot, and pissed off my friends a lot.
To divert for a moment: yes, I'm talking about depression. No, I do not want sympathy. Perhaps shortly I will delve into the topic and explain my thoughts on the "disorder," but for the time being you'll have to be content with reading and squirming when I mention it. People seem unable to get used to talking about some things, but I make no apologies for speaking of reality.
Eventually I found a job. I started working at the reptile department of a PJ's petstore, cementing my interest in all things scaly, and worked mostly content for a while. I cohabited with some mostly wonderful friends for a while, then after only a few months had to break away again.
I found myself back in Tobermory, decompressing I suppose. I spent the summer handing out Latte's and chasing a girl who ended up with a rather scummy local. I met up with my doctor and was prescribed some much nicer anti-depressants than I had been on earlier in life, medication that I would continue until my first good "down" period, at which time I stopped taking them and settled on my current viewpoint of what I've been said to have.
Eventually I wound up aware of a job opportunity back in Toronto. A friend of mine, whom I had left in the city with roughly two days notice, had started working at a veterinary clinic that happened to specialise in exotics like my scaly friends. I sent in my resume, had an interview, and got the job.
For a few months I returned to live with my mostly wonderful roommates. We had a blast, I like to think, and parted ways before the strain of collectivity broke us apart entirely.
Since then I have been contentedly working at this animal hospital. From cleaning cages and holding the animals to starting appointments, administering medications, drawing blood, and single-handedly managing the technical issues cropping up.
There is more, of course. Current thought-paths and plans; feelings too long unexpressed demanding their due acknowledgement. I am, however, leaving other revelations for future dates, if at all.
That is the past to present, now to elaborate on the intended future.
I've attempted writing semi-regular blog posts often in the past. A small part of it is to give in to egotistical desires of spreading the wonders of ME, but there is also a goodly portioned element of writing practice involved. As always when taken down this particular bumpy and otherwise unpleasant path of mood I find myself wishing to write more and more. Unfortunately, fiction writing these days involves loading a word document (in Open Office, of course) and staring at the blinking line until I get frustrated and banish the whole thing to non-existence. Rarely I get so ambitious as to write out a few lines of drek before giving up.
Blogging, while undeniably worthless and self-centred, does provide me with a means of writing practice that at least some (excessively bored) people will read.
And with the preceding drivel, I leave you for the time being. Expect to be molested again shortly, as I have two days before I get to return to being honestly productive.