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no frankie for me
singapore sunset
amw
Well that was an interesting week. After spending Monday wallowing in the depression i pushed back from Valentine's Day, i went to bed moody and woke up sick as hell. The kind of sick where you're too busy being sick to remember to be depressed; arguably, an improvement. I actually did nothing all day besides lie on the couch. For some reason i couldn't get to sleep until about 3am, and then 2 hours later i got the call from Montreal saying Jenn's grandmother had passed away.

Apparently in Judaism you have to bury the dead pretty much as soon as possible, which meant the funeral and burial were scheduled for Thursday. J wanted me to travel up the same afternoon, but it just wasn't going to happen. I was feeling even sicker that morning, and after venting all cranky and whiney at my shrink i came home and booked an overnight bus. There was no way i'd be able to get my own mood together quickly enough to be a good support before then. It worked out well because i got a few chores done and cooked myself a nice dinner before heading out.

I arrived in Montreal bleary-eyed before 7am - it's about a 6-hour bus trip. The only thing i really wanted to do in the city was get a croissant, so we went on a mission before going up to the house. Montreal is just so darn cute when you've lived in Toronto for a while. I guess it's how New Yorkers feel like when they come visit us. Having quaint brick facades on everything just adds to the feeling of walking round some tiny English village. Well, except everyone speaks some fucked up unintelligible dialect of French. I was planning to give them a pass on the whole French-speaking thing and go all "un croissant s'il vous plaît" on their asses until i realized i'd sound like a Euro snob, which probably would have been worse than a Torontonian.

The funeral was... long. There was a family gathering in one room, then a service with a bunch of singing and chanting in another room, then a short service and more chanting at the cemetery. It was kind of cool to find out the mourners are encouraged to bury the coffin, filling the grave during the service; it feels like a good way to get closure. But it was also extremely fucking cold and we were several inches deep in snow, so i wasn't sorry to go back to the house. At home the immediate family all sits down to start the whole next chapter of mourning that lasts another seven days.

I had been strong all day and it was at that point my anxiety finally got the better of me. I was so looking forward to ripping off my interview clothes and getting changed back into jeans and a hoodie, only to find i was expected to still look "good" and socialize with visitors for the rest of the evening. I just flipped out. It was just like my nightmare of 2 weeks ago, except i stopped before walking out. I came very close. When i calmed down i pasted on the smile and just kept bullshitting my way through it, for J's sake.

I took the midnight bus back to Toronto. Woke up driving into the city - home - after another fitful night's sleep. No croissant this morning - i trekked zombie-like to the local fruit store to pick up some dates and a mango and some vegetables for dinner. The rest of today i've been half-assedly looking for work. I'm tired. I think i'm probably still sick, maybe still depressed, but i can't really tell because i'm exhausted. My ankles are all fat with water retention. My belly is bloated and weird from too much Sudafed. My everything is out of whack because i haven't gone to the gym yet this week. I feel like a giant scoop of blar, and i'm missing my cherry :(