Thinking in a bubble

I wrote this post on Monika's blog more than 2 years ago. It seems strange that I am still the same head space as I was then, albeit with a few minor changes. I just got back from a too-short stint at the Ottawa Citizen and now am sitting at home, with a degree and no job - let alone job prospects even. I just want to disappear sometimes now, like I did then.


I just got out of the bath and still don't feel cleansed. I also wanted to make bubbles, but the bubbles just wouldn't bubble up like bubbles should. To compound my frustration the water was cold. Monika also wanted me to write a post about how guys are the new girls (so passe). Instead, I decided to exasperate you with some psychological banter. But I guess that's life, so now suffer through it. And if you're wondering what this metaphor is about, it's about not getting what you want. Some things just don't work out for a reason. Like living in the forest.Last week, I had this revelation that if I were to live and frolic amongst the various furry inhabitants of the forest, I'd be much happier. It's seriously what I wanted. I was almost packed, standing in front of a mountain of clothes piled in the middle of my room (actually, the clothes had already been lying there a week, so it wasn't really all that intentional). All I needed was a suitcase. Call me crazy, but the idea of leaving everything behind didn't seem that frightening. Breaking the social codes I was raised to accept, it seems, was what I wanted. Forget school. Forget work. Forget boys. Yes, most importantly forget boys (not boys in a broad way - just the dumb ones). The forest sounded like the perfect place to escape: trees heavy with rich green foliage, the smell of pine piercing your nostrils, the sight of open green pastures spotted with some black and brown moobas (that's cow for all you non-Costa Rican natives). I'd obviously want my friends to come and share the experience with me, cause as you all know, the forest can be a pretty scary place at night. Always need someone to sacrifice in case savage barbarian cannibals decide to run out of the thickery with nothing but loincloths tied around their waists, looking for a late night snack, you know? Perfect. It's settled then. Let's get in the car and go. Wait. Sounds like you're a cracked out hippy chick, you cynics may say, smirking your cynical smirks. Maybe. I just wish I really knew what I wanted. I don't know, but I'm guessing someone out there has felt it - you go through the motions of life and can never really understand why you do the things you do. Maybe I'm just having an existential crisis. I don't know. But I really wanna know. And now that I've completely messed you up with the inner workings of Kasia's illogical mind, I'm satisfied. Not quite cleansed, but satisfied.

You are my bubbles.