Stuck

Posted: October 22, 2010 in Life
Tags: , , , ,

He browsed a lot.  Which is why they called him the Browser.

The Browser liked to look at properties online.  Big, expensive places – mansions with swimming pools.  He even browsed Tiger Williams’ mansion, and lamented the fact that Tiger would probably lose it in the divorce.

He loved browsing for cars too, and found one that he really liked.  He knew that, living in the big city, with the great public transit system, he didn’t need a car.  Not really.  But still, there was that convertible two-seater Mazda that just blew his mind.  It was only around $25K and it had low mileage.  Granted, it was a four year old car, and the warranty was probably done but still, it was a very attractive piece of machinery.

The Browser thought about a lot of things.  His mind was in constant turmoil, turning over this idea and that one.  He had a lot of dreams but, because he thought about so much, all the time, he rarely actually took the time to start and finish one.   He blamed all of this on being in debt.

The Browser had a long history.  He grew up in relative poverty, always hungry.  And he later got a good paying job, and got married.  And then the marriage turned to an absolute disaster.  A hell on earth, from which (at the time) he felt there was no reprise.  His religion didn’t allow him to divorce, and so it took a number of years of emotional torture until he finally realized that divorce happens in the heart long before it happens in a court room.  It was at that point he felt morally justified in dotting the final legal “i”.

It was this that finally forced him to look at the entire structural dogma to which he had dedicated his life.   And it was this that allowed him the freedom to exit from it, no longer to be shackled to the expectations of religion or religious people.   He kept his love for God, and jettisoned the baggage that religion wanted to add to it.

And then, he lived again in relative poverty, since so much of his paycheque now went to his non-working ex-wife.  By financial necessity, he lived in a small apartment on the second floor of an old downtown building, and lived in quiet desperation as he noticed the apartments around him eventually becoming occupied by druggies and drug dealers. 

His ex-wife eventually remarried, and agreed to let him off the hook for alimony.  This was an exhibition of wonderful generosity on her part since legal precedence in Canada dictated that remarriage did not generally absolve the ex-husband of alimony.  This action on her part was what allowed him to move out of the now drug-infested building he lived in. 

So he moved to the Big City, into a wonderfully large and sun-bright apartment.  He revelled in it, utterly amazed by the change in his circumstances.

The Browser had a lot to be thankful for:  his paycheque was his own (except for what he owed); he had a good paying job with decent retirement benefits; he had access to everything he needed, and in fact, he needed for nothing.  Materially anyway.  

Yet, he was unsettled.   Unhappy at times.   

The Browser’s dreams were big:  he wanted to travel, and to write books, and to get back into various arts.  And to visit loved ones on the far coast of the country.   He truly believed that spending eight hours a day doing anything other than what he dreamt, was eight wasted hours.  He grew to resent the loss of that time.   His dissatisfaction was gut-wrenchingly deep at times.  So much so that he could hardly stand it.  If only he had enough money, he could completely change his circumstances.  He could pay off his debts, move to where his loved ones were, start travelling full time and do everything else that he really wanted to do.

He tried not to think about his increasing disappointment.  He knew it would drive him mad.  Still, every so often, a dark thought about his situation would force its way into his awareness, and, because he agreed so much with it, he would spiral into a miasma of unsettled angst.

Early one evening, he went to the store to pick up some salad and milk.  He decided to pop by the lottery booth and check his numbers from the previous day’s lottery.

The proprietor took his ticket and nodded to him.   The Browser stood there waiting, and totally lost in thought, as usual.

“Sir?”

The Browser’s thought broke off and he looked up into the startled face of the Asian gentleman.

“Yes?”

“Sir, you’ll have to take this ticket down the lottery headquarters”

The Browser still didn’t get it.  “Uh, why?”

“Sir, you’ve won it.  The big prize.”

“I did?”

“Yes sir!  Congratulations!”

“Thanks!”    The Browser was suddenly grinning.

His mind was all over the place.

Later that same week, after speaking with a lawyer and an accountant, he took the ticket to lottery headquarters.  There, they took his smiling picture, and he took his prize and left.

And, after sharing some of his wealth with his family, and with a few charities, he did the following:

He quit his job.

He moved.

He changed his name.

He bought the Mazda.

He bought a house.

He bought a ticket to Ireland.

He jumped on a plane and, after clearing customs, he made his way to a hotel in Dublin.

After dumping his suitcase and putting everything away, he sat in a chair in a dark corner of his room.

Eyes glittering, he sat there, looking at the bed, the dresser, the TV set.

Something was still not right.   The room seemed dark.

Or maybe it wasn’t the room.

He was stuck.

Comments
  1. wolfshades says:

    Normally, I enjoy it when people bring their own views to whatever is written here. It is unusual for me to ask for anything other than that. I really appreciate when you guys come over even to read it – even if you don’t leave a comment.

    So this comment is rare and probably won’t be repeated. There is just one small request.

    Let’s not go to “is this a true story?”

    In the end, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, it’s not the point.

    • Ha! I know it’s not true cuz there’s no iPad in the story. . . Hee! Hee!

      Sweetie — I wish you hadn’t added that comment though, cuz…I don’t know. It kinda bummed me out after such a fun cool interesting blog. Hmmmm…

  2. Here’s my real comment: I love this — because whether anyone believes it or not, money and material things truly do NOT make you happy. This, I know for SURE and from my own experience! I’m happier now — more than I ever been — because I’m finally pursuing what I love. Money gave me choices before, but I was so wound up and wasting time on all the wrong things that I was truly miserable. And now, that things are EXTREMELY different. I’m focused and doing what I love — pursuing it anyways! Don’t worry about being stuck — its all part of the process. And actually, being stuck IS the part right before it all makes sense! I promise!

    GREAT post my Wolfie!

    Carmen

    • wolfshades says:

      I briefly thought about putting the iPad in there – but decided that would distract too much from the point of this. Which, to be honest, remains a foggy mystery to me.

      Never having had enough of the green stuff to be able to make those choices you talk about, I probalby can’t appreciate what you’ve said. Unless there comes a time when money arrives and I can make those choices. We’ll see.

      Frankly, besides writing – and the NaNoWriMo exercise next month – I’m not really doing what I love. Not at all.

      Is it necessary to throw everything you have into the wind (and going bankrupt) the only way to start doing what it is you love?

      Again though – I’m not sure that’s the point of this blog either. Not really.

      In fact, I’m sure it’s not.

      Another key word in your comment: focus.

      Yeah – I don’t even know what that looks like.

      Glad you stopped by to comment, Carmen.

      • Oh, I’m so sorry Wolfie! I guess I misunderstood the point of your blog. But, I’m always happy to stop by and read your awesome writings!

        But just for clarity, I don’t think you have to go bankrupt and throw everything in the wind to finally start doing what you love. Absolutely not. But you sure do have to commit to it. That much I know for sure. And when you commit to whatever it is you want to do, there are sacrafices involved. For me, it was letting go of an old relationship and giving up a stellar job that was making me miserable and making it hard for me to pursue my love of acting and writing. My sacrafice was HIM and the job with the money.

        I don’t have the answers — not that you’re asking. But, having money (and mind you it’s all relative because if I shared with you what a lot of money was to me, it might be penny’s to you — but I grew up in the ‘hood, to just keep it in perspective) by doing something I hated and loathed, made me so miserable. The only little joy I got was from buying a pair of Jimmy Choos or spending money for Spa treatments and such. Material crap. At some point, that only goes so far because as much as I love some of that material stuff, it only can do so much before it’s boring. That’s all I’m saying – and for me, I had to learn the hard way: by having it “all” and being miserable anyways.

        So, now, I have very little — but I know that my joy comes from pusuing my acting, my writing, my voiceover work. Even with all it’s rejection and dissappointments, I’m still happier now. Will it last? I don’t know – -I assume it can only get better than what I was doing. I’m at least growing and learning every day. Creative work for me is like fuel now. I have to do it! I didn’t have this much energy before because being an executive just didn’t do it for me.

        I’m thinking that if I keep pursuing my dream and doing what I love — eventually the money part will take care of itself. But who knows? All I know, is that for today, for right now, I’m good. And that’s all I’m going to worry about.

        Wish I could get a hug from you — sorry I misunderstood. Uggghhh.

        Thanks though for letting me spew…Mwuuuahh!
        Carmen

        • wolfshades says:

          No need to apologize, Carmen – not at all. If this blog wasn’t clear to me, I certainly wouldn’t expect it to be clear to anyone else. :)

          I think I get where you’re coming from when you said you grew up in the ‘hood. I didn’t, but it sure felt like it. Going around all hungry and skeletal while fending off violence at home every day sure did suck. I remember that vividly – which is why keeping my weight down now is a life long process. It’s also why I have this impulse to want to punch every angry and belligerent drunk right in the face. Fortunately that’s in check too.

          The life you mention – where it’s all about feeding the creative energy – is *really* appealing. Over on the left – a rock. And on the right – hard place.

          Still though – while the blog sort of nodded at all of this, there’s an indetermined dark place that wags its finger at me, saying “try again, grasshopper”.

          Here’s a hug to you though…… OOO :)

          (Did I do that right?)

  3. Abe's Blog says:

    Great write, Wolf.

    Does happiness lie in the achievement of all of your goals? Or in the pursuit? I struggle with the same things.

    I feel ya, brotha!

    • wolfshades says:

      Thanks for commenting, Abe. There’s a part of me that says that the struggle isn’t working, and that the achieving might not either. And another part that says I’m asking the wrong questions and looking at the wrong thing entirely.

      Who knows?

      At least there’s NaNoWriMo next month to look forward to. You’re an interesting writer, Abe – you might want to check it out for yourself. This will be my first year doing it.

      http://www.nanowrimo.org/

      P.S. one reason I’m talking about NaNoWriMo is that, having discussed it openly, I’m making myself accountable. I do NOT want to come back on December 1 and have to tell everyone that I never made it through.

      Motivation. Not just a breakfast cereal.

      (Wouldn’t it be neat if that *was* a cereal? If I created it, it would consist of 90% bran. And 10% tree bark)

      (‘Cause that’s the way I roll)

  4. Don MacIver says:

    How many of us have gone through living the benign existence in the wake of marital estrangement. Well done.

    • wolfshades says:

      You know-it kind of seems that the key to contentment (let’s not even talk about “happiness”) isn’t always as obvious as we would think.

      Thanks for your comment!

  5. Chickee says:

    Big reveal here. I eat. I eat when I am not hungry. I think I really want that plate of food or that burger. Logically I know it’s not food I want but I still eat. And yeah it tastes really good and it fills the tum tum but never the space that caused the craving. =( I read this thinking about that.

    NaNo!!! I might have failed in my attempt last year but I suceeded in learning more about myself as a writer.

    Good Writing and keep us posted. =)

    • wolfshades says:

      Funny you should mention that. I have an issue with food as well. I sometimes want to keep eating because it just tastes so damned good. But the taste goes away way too soon. There’s got to be an art to it or something: I noticed while over in Paris, that they have meals over there that lasts up to six hours (at least, that was the case at one of the family meals I attended), yet they manage to keep thin.

      But the craving you mention – yeah, that’s a hard one isn’t it? I don’t have it with food, but it comes out in other ways. A gnawing dissatisfaction.

      I’ll definitely keep you posted on the NaNoWriMo deal. Seven more days until it starts!

      • Chickee says:

        Yep you got it “a gnawing dissatisfation”, that’s the nasty that has me sticking my head in the feeding trough. That’s why none of those miracle pills would work for me, when I eat like that it’s not because I am hungry for food.

        Anyyyyyyyyway.

        Imma try NaNo again this year. =)

        • wolfshades says:

          Really? That’s great! Keep me posted on how you do with that, and I’ll do the same.

          Went to the opening kick-off party last night for NaNoWriMo in Toronto. Man, what a fun bunch of people.

  6. izziedarling says:

    Wow, Wolf. Brave. And good. And strong. And true. I will be thinking about this post for awhile. Thank you for writing it.

  7. Just Me says:

    Well written Wolf!

    People are strange. I don’t think we ever really know what we want. We think we want something, but then when we have it we realize that *it* was never what we were really after to begin with. Maybe there were feelings and ideas associated with it that we thought were what we were looking for. Or maybe we just change so much in the time it takes to get what we wan,t that by the time we get it, *it* isn’t what we want anymore. Either way, a sobering and truly deep read from you, glad I got a chance to read it.

    • wolfshades says:

      Your comment is spot-on. Often I think we don’t *really* know what it takes to make us content – although we’re absolutely sure we do. I like what you said about how we change over time, such that what we strive for ends up being quite a bit different than our original end goal.

  8. Momma Fargo says:

    Great post! Was super with a moral to the story. And keeps our brains thinking. Kept me on the edge of my seat as well. You should write a book.

  9. We talked about this awhile back – the miasma, the angst, the unreached for dream – and you turned the substance of that conversation or whatever was brewing inside of you into this amazing allegory that I love and, unfortunately, relate to on a visceral level.

    It could be my story even though the details aren’t remotely similar. It’s the heart. It’s the pulse and breath and scream of it that resonates inside of me. It’s the dark room that can’t be lit externally because it’s not really dark. If he stands up from the chair and leaves the room, walks out into a rare moment of sparkling Dublin bright – the green so green it hurts the eyes – the darkness will still be there. It can’t be purchased away, eaten away, partied away, and you can’t fly away from it either. It’s everywhere because wherever you go there you are again.

    THE DREAM. It belongs in all caps. THE DREAM. Unreached for. THE DREAM. There are so many obstacles to creativity, right? The job isn’t a blessing, neither is the beautiful apartment, not even winning the freaking lottery. Always there’s something that stands between the dreamer and the dream.

    We were watching The Count of Monte Christo last night. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the story. There are many lessons inside of it but the one that was resonating inside of me was the one about a man with a dream that was impossibly far away, still, he reached for it. He reached for it against all odds, got past prison, and near death, and betrayal, and the loss of everything he held dear, including his awareness of God, and then he became RICH beyond his wildest imagining and that got in the way of his dream… Finally, he gets what he wants in a fairy tale ending. But the point of it, for me, was that anything and everything can get in the way of the dream. *wry smile* In the end, it’s an inner struggle. Circumstances are almost irrelevant.

    I want to run away. I want to head for sunshine, beaches of sparkling white sand, or maybe the mountains, redolent of pine… and there I will write. I will… be distracted by too many Pina Coladas, by the surf that calls my name, by forest trails that beg to be wandered, by… something.

    My life feels too small. I used to travel the world, live out of a suitcase. No money? No worries. Somehow something would come up. I remember jumping up with a WHOOP and pumping my fist because I found 29 cents under the couch cushions when I lived in the Manoa Valley in Hawaii and I could go to McDonalds and get a hamburger because they were having a big hamburger sale and I WAS RICH!

    I remember – score! – catching a ride with my thumb in the back of a limo to a private beach only locals knew about and I was – score again! – a brown, barefoot local. God, I loved those days. I sang at night, prowled the island by day… worry was something nearly foreign to me. I shared a tiny room – 12′x12′, MAYBE, with five other girls in triple bunk beds. Yep. :)

    And now I have all this STUFF, all of this responsibility, and the money I need to maintain it is backbreaking in the current U.S. economy. And I would write and sing IF… Well, if I wasn’t so damn stressed out. If I didn’t have so much responsibility. If I could just pack a bag and go live off the money mined from couch cushions…

    I have no idea how long this is or if it will make sense to anyone but you; I know you will get it. I’m not even sure if I’m on topic anymore. I think I am.

    God, do I ever feel the miasma, the unrest… I’m a Browser and I’m stuck.

    • wolfshades says:

      Wow. Yours is an amazing comment.

      I’m almost afraid to add anything here. But fear won’t stop me. *grin*

      I like that you used the theme to “The Count of Monte Cristo” because that really describes it well. Despite his riches, he still had that dark side that wasn’t yet quenched. With the money he had, he should have been happy or at least content, but he wasn’t.

      You know, it amazes me how often the brain will try and find a remedy for what’s eating us. Or it’ll find what it thinks is a valid reason for the state of mind that we have. I’ve done it all my life, and it hasn’t been until recently that I realized that I was wrong. Not that I’m claiming to have an answer. I have an idea though, and am exploring it, hoping for the best. But that darkness in daylight has its own reason for being, and the person who wants to be healthy had best pay attention to it, and learn what he can.

      I recall standing at the entrance to a shopping mall (you may remember that we talked about this), and the darkness was so great that I just wanted to roar at the crowd in frustration and anger. At the time, my stupid brain interpreted all of this as my dissatisfaction with the consumerism of it all. In a way, my brain was right – I really *did* hate the western state of affairs, where you could only prove your love to someone by buying them an awesome – and expensive – gift. I actually loathed it.

      But….and here’s the thing…..even if my immediate family and friends shared my disaste for the consumer side, and all agreed that the best present we could give each other was to spend time together……the darkness still would have been there, eating away. I wasn’t able to recognize that until now.

      It has ebbed and flowed, I think, all of my life. Each time it came up, I found a reason for it.

      Now (and here’s a scary thought!), my dad – who I often refer to as “The Beast” – seems to have shown a similar darkness although it came out a different way. He would get drunk and always always ALWAYS he got angry. Mom tried to coach us so that we would alter our behaviours, so as to not “set him off”. But the thing is: no matter what we did, he simply found an excuse to be angry. And ultimately violent.

      Fortunately, I don’t share his need to be angry, nor his penchant for drunkeness.

      This story is unfinished, Kate. But I probably don’t need to tell you that. :)

      • I have to think about why your response made me cry. Maybe it’s your reference to The Beast. I don’t have a black and white recollection of my father in the way that I think you do. My feelings for my dad are so complex. He was a wonderful neighbor, citizen, boss, brother, son, and father to his son. With me he was cruel. I saw the darkness and light in him, more than anyone else who ever knew him because *I* was the outlet. I was the drink. I was the fist through the wall. I was the place he placed his rage.

        I’m like him. So like him. When he was in his early 20′s he was all set to go to Central America to work with the Peace Corps but my mom captured him and wouldn’t wait so he chose her and gave up his other dream, a dream that never ever left him. And he spent his life doing good. I, too, have traveled and done much good. I, too, dance with darkness. It’s different in me, very different, but I believe it comes from him biologically and via nurture.

        Maybe he taught me to live in discontent… maybe that’s how I’m wired. I touch on happy, sometimes I embrace it, other times I glance off of it. My life growing up was anything but peaceful. I was always wary, watchful, careful… waiting for what came next, bracing myself. The moments of peace that I *did* find were out in nature, in the barn, with my horses and dogs, books, writing. It was me and God and mute creatures.

        Always I was wanting. I didn’t want things. I wanted love, acceptance, kindness… I wanted God. And that wanting still burns in me. You’re so right, by the way, that it wouldn’t have made a difference if your family had embraced your hatred of consumerism. There would have been another wanting right there to replace that one.

        Even as I write this all out, right off the top of my head, unedited, I know that there’s this great big blind spot, something right around the corner that I cannot yet see. I’m waiting with my eyes open. I want to see the truth of what drives the discontent in me, beyond biology. It would be SO EASY to slap a label on it and take a pill and surrender to some… diagnosis. That’s what we do in modern society, we diagnose the hell out of everything. We want immediate gratification – diagnosis, pill, problem solved, next. It’s fast-food living. There’s no time for self-examination.

        OR we just GIVE IT TO JESUS…

        But how often does that desperate move work? It sounds so good, doesn’t it? Sometimes I think “Give it to Jesus” is synonymous with “sweep it under the carpet.” Let’s PRETEND everything’s okay, k?

        I’m not buying it. Anymore.

        Do you remember not long after we first met, you wrote to me about standing outside a store in the sunshine, checking your electronic thingy for e-mails, reading, grinning, just feeling happy? It wasn’t a big thing. It was a little picture you painted for me, of you living your life, happy in the moment. I loved that so much. Where do those moments come from? Do they come from the same place as the darkness? They catch us off guard, don’t they? They happen when we don’t plan them, in the most unlikely places. Why happy reading an e-mail, leaning against a pillar in the sunshine? Why? It’s so easy, isn’t it? I want that kind of happiness right now. I want to open a bottle and shake it out, dance in it, let it fall all around me, propel me forward and out of the darkness, but I can’t shake it out or call it out or summon it.

        I also want (and do not want) to live STEADY. I want to pin up my goal on the wall and strike through the days: one, two, three, four, steadily onward, here I go. But I’m not wired like that. *wry smile*

        NaNoWriMo… It’s gonna be good, D. It was phenomenal for me last year. I surrendered to this unstructured place inside of myself and just let the words fall out. I let them fly through my fingertips so fast that my fingers ached at the end of the day. I kept checking my nails. Was I bleeding words? Where the hell were they coming from? Once I let go, I found this place where I could just… be. It was wonderful. But then the structure crept closer and closer… the end of November. The end of my permission to just write and write and write and not edit, not direct.

        Do I need a freaking MONTH designated by someone else to do that?!!!!!! Apparently, I do. What the hell.

        I dunno, D. I probably shouldn’t write all this in a blog comment like I would in an e-mail but… well, I seem to be saying this quite a bit in this missive, WHAT. THE. HELL. It’s what wants saying. Might not make any sense. I have no flipping idea.

        Your allegory – Jesus talked in allegory – is an arrow pointing toward truth, a truth you (we) don’t full grasp yet. Sometimes it’s the best way to get at truth, to walk beside it for awhile, to depersonalize it. :) I’m so glad you wrote it.

        • wolfshades says:

          Me too, actually. As I mentioned in an email to you just now (on FB): the minute someone comes up with a pat answer (“Give it to Jeeeeesusss!”) I want to smack them and tell them to smarten up.

          We *want* things to be easy and explainable. And if I’ve learned nothing else in the last few months, I’ve at least learned this: all my life my brain has come up with acceptable and reasonable explanations for what has gone on. And they’ve almost all been wrong. But those explanations sufficed for a time. It’s like in the book of Job, where Job’s friends think they know the answers to his suffering. It’s just like that, only writ large: “maybe you’re not praying hard enough”; “maybe it’s because your father was an ogre”; “maybe…..this”. Whatever.

          Maybe some things aren’t explainable. I’m not so foolish as to think we’ll never stop looking for answers. It’s a life-long journey, at least for me it is anyway, particularly with this darkness deal. Sometimes a little light gets through, though. And I think I’m beginning to recognize a True answer (as opposed to a Convenient one): there is no other word for it than “Resonate”. When something resonates clear from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet, I think I can trust it.

          And anything else that just sounds too good to be true…well….you know how that goes.

          I honestly don’t remember that scene you painted. But I recognize the truth of it, as it seems pretty typical for me. :)

  10. Thom says:

    Hi Wolfshades, I was sent here by Kate. A mutual friend of ours from MS and FB. Your write is so true…people as a whole feel never satisfied, whatever life throws them. Great write.

    • wolfshades says:

      Hey Thom. Welcome! Glad you came over.

      What you said is true. People often aren’t satisfied. And I’ve learned that some of us don’t even know why we’re not satisfied. We think we know but when conditions are met, and we’re still not, it’s a little confusing.

      I remember a time of turmoil when I thought “well if I could just get away from everything for a while; find a nice spot on a lake, and get into a rowboat and get far from the shore, I’ll find peace.” I did that, only to discover that, once I was out in the middle of the lake, I was just as agitated.

      Thanks for commenting!

  11. TheIdiotSpeaketh says:

    Awesome posts! Very well written Wolf! Really hits home in a lot of ways for me. I will probably blog about it sometime on my site. I had issues after I got disabled where we were going through the long process of the Medical Malpractice Lawsuit we had filed. It took 9 years to resolve. In those 9 years, I spent a lot of time dreaming of what I would do with the money we would recieve and how much it would change our lives, and would make us happy,……etc. And then when the money did come, and we paid off the bills, I quickly realized that nothing had changed. Money will never truly buy happiness or even peace of mind. I still had all the same issues and insecurties as before I got hurt, but now I had a lot of money in the bank, and it did not mean a thing at all……

    Again…Great post buddy!

    • wolfshades says:

      Interesting that you were able to relate to this. I’ve found that it’s not just money – it’s what our brains imagine will make us content or happy that’s often off-kilter. In my case, there was a time I thought a weekend retreat up to a cottage on a lake would allow me some space to think and get some peace. I got out there, right into the middle of the lake, in my little boat, and realized I was just as agitated as I was before I left home.

      I had brought the angst with me. It was inside. It wasn’t as external as I’d thought.

      I don’t think it’s our fault that we think this way. The brain is always looking for what’s logical and immediate. The only thing is, often the real issue is far deeper than that. But we can only work with the knowledge and experience that we have, which is why many of us miss it.

      I don’t have an answer at all. I’m hopeful that money will help me at some point, but am painfully aware that it might not.

  12. MousE says:

    Hey Wolfie,

    Great blog!

    I was right there with the Browser. Now… if only… if only…… *sigh*

    I’ve been apartment hunting for 15 months. After the Olympics here, housing prices went thru the roof, no one allows a small pet anymore, and bedbugs are rampant. I languish in my friend’s basement out in the ‘burbs and torture myself by viewing apartments I can’t afford.

    ARGH.

    Oh how I want that bright and sunny place. I’ll find it. But first, the room is full of Pony. Damn.

    • wolfshades says:

      Hey MousE.

      Isn’t that funny? I thought once the Olympics were over and everyone went home, housing prices there in Vancouver would go for a free-fall. Guess not. :(

      So sad to hear about the problems with bed bugs too. It’s a problem in Toronto as well. I know i have to move soon (can’t stand several things about my apartment) but I’m really at a loss as to where to go. I’ve thought about Victoria – until I heard about the problems that nice little city is having. Thought about going to a rural area – until I realized there’s a BIG problem with internet access in most of those places. I don’t know. Still going to have to give it some more thought.

      Vancouver is out. I know that much anyway.

      Good luck with your search! Maybe there’s one right around the corner for you that’s affordable and sunny.

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