I've been in Manitoba since last Thursday. It's been somewhat nice. The weather has been off and on. We've overstayed, because the body shop keeps delaying. Today should be our last day - we are planning to drive into North Dakota tonight.
I was here for the Icelandic Festival. I didn't see much of it, because I spent most of the time at the house we're staying at. They had a couple of days of August Long partying. I met lots of people and it was somewhat fun, but everyone was at least ten years older than me and I felt really awkward and out of place. I drank a little and got drunk once on Friday, but most of the beer was swill and I didn't want to take anyone's hard liquor. I had a lot of down periods because I felt there were a lot of people who didn't want me around. I felt like an imposition. I'm glad I probably won't ever see most of these people again.
The car is nearly done. All we need to do is put a fender, bumper cover, and the hood on it. For the longest time it wouldn't start, but we eventually figured out that when it had been moved the shifter had been disconnected from the transmission and the car was stuck in neutral. It won't start like that, so we put the thing in park and it sang like an angel. Last night we had a weird issue with a filter sensor: the fuel pump wasn't working because the sensor was aggravated. This morning the issue was gone, so I hope it stays gone. I bought an astronomy magazine for the drive, and I hope we can stop at a gas station somewhere where I can load up on energy drinks and junk food.
I eat really terribly. I complain about being fat and then eat chicken fingers and fries. I hate salad. I wish I didn't so I could just eat it all the time. I wish I could cure my sweet tooth too. If I could just lose this last bit of belly fat I might start looking halfway decent. Right now I look terrible. My hair is terrible. I should grow it long again. Everyone else has it long, and I don't think anyone finds my short (chin) hair attractive. I look like a hobo. My boyfriend liked it more when it was longer.
I had a plan to grow my nails out so I could paint them, but it hasn't worked out. I just can't stop running my teeth along them and they get chipped and then I just make it worse by nibbling. I should get the nail strengthener stuff because it probably tastes terrible. Then maybe I could have okay nails.
I read this article in the Globe and Mail today about a parent who went to Australia after their kid tried to kill themself. It reminded me of myself. I still wish no one had called the paramedics. I wish my mom hadn't come down and I wish the ER had just let me go. I don't understand why everyone else thinks it's their business. I think people should have a right to do what they want with themselves, whether that's smoking, walking into an asbestos mine, or jumping off a building. If it's okay to lock people up for slitting their wrists it should be legal to lock people up for taking a drag: both roads lead to Rome, one just takes longer. I'm tired of people trying to make decisions for me, whether it's about my medications, whether I can get rid of a useless clump of cells (it's not a potential life, it's a tumor), or whether I can take the reins and drive the pale horse.