Day three, baby!

Up bright and early again this morning. Today, it was for a public court trial regarding a parking ticket that I got back in January 2015. Remember? The one where the parking officer scared the shit out of me when he slammed the yellow slip of paper down on my windshield – as I was waiting in the car for Mom to drop something off at Phillip’s place? Yeah, that one.

Naturally, or perhaps ironically, I couldn’t find a parking spot on the street outside the courthouse. After 20 minutes of circling the block, I gave up and parked in a garage. As if I had the money for that.

I sat in the damn courtroom for almost an hour, listening to what seemed like every taxi driver in Toronto plead their case. I was six-minutes late this morning, and must have been one of the first cases called, so I had to wait for the judge to circle back to my name on her list.

I wonder what these government employees are like outside of their jobs? Honestly, they seem like the most miserable people on the planet. How can you live like that? I understand that it’s by no means enjoyable to be handling parking ticket cases all day. I get that. But, do you have to be such a motherfucking asshole about it? Christ. And don’t get me started on the parking officer who I had to go talk with to “understand” my charge, after I waited 45-minutes to be dismissed by the judge. Ridiculous. I understand the goddamn charge, you morons. It was a parking ticket. What’s there to understand?

Listen. I was trying to fuck the system today. It wasn’t my first time, and it likely won’t be my last. I knew I was in the wrong, but I wanted to get away with it. I thought I had a chance, considering my circumstances of getting a parking ticket while sitting inside my car, but I didn’t. My inner Elle Woods did not pull through today.

To save everyone the hassle of pushing my ticket further through the court system, I threw in the towel and plead guilty. I cannot have this thing on my plate anymore. I paid the ticket. Charge it, bitch. To top it all off, as I was leaving the parking garage, the machine asked me for $15. Pardon me? The audacity! That’s a whole lot of fuck no. Absolutely not. I bum rushed another car and got out for free.

After that hot mess, I went to the gym and quite literally ran through my new MOMENTS playlist. I’m so glad that I have the music on my phone now, because I can sequence the tracks whenever I have a chance. Today, that chance occurred pon de treadmill. By the end of the day, I had brought the playlist down from fourteen hours to nine hours. We’re getting there!

Amidst my MOMENTS work and DigiPrint shifts, I’ve still been applying to jobs. Not as frequently, but once in a while I’ll shoot off an application. However, I’m taking a different approach these days. Without any luck from the generic online submissions, I’ve begun cold calling companies across Toronto to ask if they’re hiring.

Last week, I reached out to The Clubhouse. An exclusive, members only club in the city that caters to professionals in creative industries. I thought I might have been a good fit for their events department. Much to my surprise, the Head Concierge at the club asked me to send in my resume. So, I did.

I followed up with The Clubhouse today. Apparently, my CV was forwarded to the Membership department, as there may be an opening coming available soon. Working in membership isn’t my first choice. However, at this point, I’ll take what I can get. I left a message for the manager. Fingers crossed.

I worked at the Toronto Fashion Week tent from 2 p.m. to 9:30 p.m. today. It was alright. In fact, out of my three shifts so far, this one went by the fastest. I saw a lot of people I knew again, including a couple of cute boys. I think my flirting helped to move the day along.

Near the beginning of my DigiPrint shift, I reached a boiling point. I had been obsessively thinking about Logan all day, and I couldn’t handle my thoughts of him anymore. I finally caved. I sent him a text. I played dumb, asking him when he was getting back from his Euro trip. Logan responded soon after with a variety of short messages. He talked about getting back home, that he had a great time, and said he was “back to the grind.” I’m sure that meant work, but maybe it meant that he was on Grindr and contracting chlamydia again. I don’t know. One can never be too sure with him.

Logan asked me how I was. I responded. Logan never replied back. So, once again, I feel like a big fucking dumbass. Logan’s messages were so casual, too. Meanwhile, I’m here taking anti-anxiety medication to deal with this situation. I waited all this time to contact Logan, only to be left on read once again. What in the actual fuck?

When I got back to the Witch Cave after work, I messaged Logan again.

Kurt: “I have a question for you.”

Screw all of this tiptoeing. I wanted to ask Logan flat out if I did anything, or if something had happened since my New York City visit last month that might have sparked a change in the way we communicate with one another. I don’t understand what has happened. Logan and I used to talk every day. Now, he doesn’t want anything to do with me. What could I have done to push him away like this?

To be honest, experiencing Logan’s disregard almost makes it easier to move on. But, it’s still so hard. I continue to have these relentless flashbacks of the time we spent together in December, January, and February. I think about how special I felt with him. Special. That’s the exact word. Logan made me feel so amazing inside. I thought Logan felt something amazing with me, too. Now, it seems like all of that never even happened. Logan never responded to my text tonight. I guess this will be resolved tomorrow. Or, maybe never. Who knows?

Despite my exhaustion, I took a bath. Well, that’s kind of why I took a bath. I continued to work from the tub, editing some MOMENTS event media and responding to the endless stream of emails that seems to be shooting out of my ass. I’m trying to remain as calm as possible. Epsom salts are helping. We are now in the final countdown – cue Europe’s “The Final Countdown” – and I need to keep it together. For the sake of Mimi, keep it together girl!

WWMD? What Would Mariah Do?

Mariah would hire people to do this MOMENTS work for her. But, I don’t have that option. I need to put on my shoes with holes in them – seriously, my Doc Martens have holes in them – and “Make It Happen.” I’ve told everyone that MOMENTS is going to be the event of their lives. I need to deliver on that promise.

Goodnight xo