Corporate ladder in my stockings

I've been given a writing/research position at work. Very excited, and very hung over after dinner at Mr. C's. We had a long talk about lots of things. One of the things was the new position and how excited I am and all. Being drunk, I managed to talk about a real deep-seated fear - briefly, I don't know when I'm going to start exploring again.

Less briefly:

Have you ever seen the 'Not Without My Anus' episode of South Park from way back when in the late 90's which was all Terrence and Philip, and Terrence's daughter by Céline Dion is kidnapped, and Saddam Hussein tries to take over Canada so the Canadian people fart the Iraqi army to death? It was action-packed. Yet occasionally this action was interrupted with an 'I say, Terrence, let's look for treash-ah!' 'Yes, let's look for treash-ah!', and the two heroes would take a moment from their action-packed adventures to start examining their surroundings for hidden treasure.

I think all I've ever wanted to do was look for treash-ah. For the longest time, I've associated that with a transitory lifestyle; screwing exotic men, getting into international scrapes, exploring new cities, eating regional cuisine that would make David Cronenberg furrow his brows in disgust. Throwing myself into new and incomprehensible things and seeing that the fuck happens to me. Every day, being surprised and confused by most of the things around me. Trying to find new ways to talk, to listen, and to make people understand each other.

Toronto was meant to be a pit-stop for me. I was planning in an alllllmost concrete way to fuck out of town again after I'd put in a nicely professional amount of time at the position I'm wrapping up - but now I'm going to have to start the 'nicely professional' countdown again, and on top of that, I'm not sure this job I'm going into is just going to be your typical résumé-builder. Most indications seem to be that this is a job I could really - you know - enjoy.

So the fear comes: I'm afraid I'm going to get soft and scared and shackled by the golden handcuffs if I stay too long - am I painting myself into a corner? I'm afraid when I think that most of the men who I've been nuts about haven't been Canadian - am I ever going to lose my mind over someone again? Most of all I'm afraid I'm not going to find any more treash-ah because without frequent changes of place, it's hard for me to believe life is going to surprise me all that much.

But just thinking out these fears makes me realize how dumb I am. Getting back to Terrence and Philip - when they searched for treash-ah it was in their living room or the metro. So if I can trust Trey Parker and Matt Stone, the search for treash-ah is wherever it crosses your mind to think of searching for it. The more I know people - my friends and family - the more interesting they are. The more I know Toronto, the more three-dimensional it gets, instead of just being some place where my bilingualism assures me of a decent job and I can see operas. The more I think about actually being able to write for a living, even if it's for an industry organization newsletter, the more jazzed I feel.

Ohhhhhhh. My brain hurts with changing.

This navel-gazing monstrosity is everything wrong with the internet. Sorry. Tonight I'm going to see a band called the Wet Spots that look pretty hilarious for Miss B's birthday, so tomorrow I'll post about something that isn't up my ass. Deal? Deal.