driving on.

Don't need no five star reservations
I've got spaghetti and a cheap bottle of wine
Don't need no concert in the city
I've got a stereo and the best of Patsy Cline
Ain't got no caviar no Dom Perignon
But as far as I can see, I've got everything I want

Cause I've got a roof over my head,
the woman I love laying in my bed
And it's alright, alright
I've got shoes under my feet
Forever in her eyes staring back at me
And it's alright, alright
And I've got all I need
And it's alright by me

Maybe later on we'll walk down to the river
Lay on a blanket and stare up at the moon
It may not be no French Riviera
But it's all the same to me as long as im with you

It may be a simple life, but that's okay
If you ask me baby, I think I've got it made

Cause I've got a roof over my head,
the woman I love laying in my bed
And it's alright, alright
I've got shoes under my feet
Forever in her eyes staring back at me
And it's alright, alright
And I've got all I need
And it's alright by me

It's alright by me, yeah yeah
When I lay down at night I thank the Lord above
For giving me everything I ever could dream of

Cause I've got a roof over my head,
the woman I love laying in my bed
And it's alright, alright, alright, alright
I've got shoes under my feet
Forever in her eyes staring back at me
And it's alright, alright, alright
And I've got all I need, yeah
I've got all I need
And it's alright by me
Oh yeah, it's alright by me

on a side note:

Baristas are people too. Real people with real feelings who you leave in a real bad mood when you're a dick. I get you know what you want, and you probably always get it - but that doesn't mean I'll give it to you for free when you tell me to. I understand you're in a hurry, please understand I'm doing my best. I can see you're averse to making small talk with me while your drink is being prepared - please see its my job to entertain you, but you can pretend to be on your Bluetooth if it makes you feel more important. Above all, a little eye contact and a thank-you can make more than a difference to the people who help get your day going on a good note, who will in turn, hopefully, make your day a little brighter. If not, I might slip you decaf tomorrow morning. Cheers.

all of your base belongs to us.

I'd like my own space. I have my own space now, technically, but its just a room. Practically speaking, I cannot afford my own space, due to the fact I would need to fill that space solely with Ikea. I would have eclectic coloured armchairs and exploded-floral-print throw pillows. I would drink exclusively out of martini glasses and display my teas on the counter organized by colour and variety. I would have blown-up prints of my favourite photos of my family, travels and friends. I would play Elton John and Oasis all day. I would have a record player. I would display my guitars on the wall. I'd play those guitars. I'd have to play those guitars to afford all this. I'll write a song about it. Idealisticly.

all my troubles on a burning pileeee

This torrential rain is really putting a damper dent in my head. Peanut butter and jam sandwiches can only last you for so long; as can half-assed attempts at changing things. I'd like to something drastic. Safe/drastic. Fun. LIKE A TRUCK. Or a vacation. Or a different occupation. Or an education. Or an instrument. My guitars been dusty for a while. I can't sing to save my life, but with a little practice and auto-tune maybe you'll see me soon. This week is looking up. I should get my ass in gear. Gears remind me of trucks, which I want, which I can't has, which makes me want to lie here and be sad about it/go shopping to ease my pain/be broke. It's really not working out. Its not you, it me...and this awful box-spring.

dear diarrry: this sucks.

I want to be healthy, but I am too lazy to cook/prepare myself nutritious eats. Lack of energy from lack of nutrients leads to lack of making more (lacking in substance) foods. I'm perpetuating my own imminent, burger filled, delicious, sub-par-dramatic death. Someone make me a casserole.

Back

I'm happy to be home. I will never take clean socks or not sleeping on a 3-foot couch for granted again. Probably. I have re-established appreciation for my store and the partners in it. Don't get me wrong, I've always been proud of my store and how we work (it), but I missed my beautiful, clean, organized Mt. Lehman. I will not miss surviving off of Starbucks pastries. I will miss the Vancouver customers; the newly found regulars, my fellow borrowed partners and home-team, the coveted-Starbucks-pin-hunting-hyenas (for the last time, no, this is MINE, you have TWELVE), the Russian Olympic team (.......), and the very beautiful Venti Vanilla Coffee Misto boy (I think by the fourth time I asked him if he wanted foam he knew was just desperately trying to make conversation). I will not miss the two hour commute (or taking the wrong sky-train every second day...really, you'd think I'd learn) I will not miss the strange cup-markings and foreign drink-calling. I will miss the spirit and the faux patriotism. I will miss making friends with anyone and everyone you meet, from all around the world...or just Abbotsford. I will miss everyone being in a perpetual state of happiness because they WANTED to be there. I will miss Vancouver, but I'll be back.