Nevertheless: A Biopolitical Diary Entry

It's been a weird weekend. I unexpectedly received an email notice that I'm being laid off on Saturday. It wasn't ill-intended or even cold. There was a call attempt, and email was preferred regardless. 

*don't call me without texting first unless it's immediately urgent..

The news did not meaningfully affect my feelings. The work is ethically uncompromising labour at a flailing social enterprise. It was always known I was applying to positions relevant to my education. The news was surprising because I outlasted three other employees and personally reconfigured production processes to save hours of time. My value was acknowledged, but I wasn't privy to the accounts.

Still, moving to Toronto was the best thing I could have done with my last year; it'll be a full year on the 29th. I have love for the city and what I've been able to do here. That said, I feel like I'm floating above Toronto, not part of it. There's only so much sadness you can experience in a city where anything is possible.

I don't have issues making friends as an adult. Instructions:
Step 1: care about something
Step 2: find other people who care about the same thing
Step 3: weed out the people who care about your thing who annoy you

Remainder = friends

My issue is that I don't inherently have motivation for that level of human interaction. The dark reality lock downs forced on me is that I don't enjoy most human interactions. Investing in unenjoyable human interactions for future enjoyable human interactions is worthwhile, but the calculation is brutal.

Placelessness tells me that the investment is usually sour. I've been trying to quell this feeling for a decade, but the indentured servitude of capitalism requires my mobility until the day I cash in on the privilege that was promised.

The feeling of home is the opposite of placelessness. This feeling strikes me in two places: ocean side and riding urban transit. There's just something about trains and beaches that lets my mind finally rest. It's not hard to see how Vancouver would bring me peace.

At some point in the Fall, I promised myself I'd spend my 40's by the ocean, and I've got 5 years to make that happen. I'm not setting a hard target on Vancouver, but the heart wants what it wants. I just want to stop moving. I know the conditions of my seaside life will be fall short of ideal.

For my health, I need to live alone. My single most important priority engineering my next step is returning to sole occupancy. The part of me that's happy in Toronto is the part that can be happy anywhere, but not with a roommate. The goal of sole occupancy in Toronto is a tall order, but I may be closer to it than I feel.

I've advanced once through a City of Toronto limited-competition hiring process for a traineeship/feeder program. It's a 5 month full-time unionized position aimed at placing trainees in vacant mid-level positions. The position starts in September, so they're going to take their sweet time with the next phases.

If I'm willing to be landlocked for 5 years, Toronto is reasonable as long as I'm being paid enough to live in Toronto. But I'm also just over it. Even though I scrapped my Seneca plan, I did everything I came to Toronto to do.

I'm mostly in control of my health issues. I have a family doctor; I saw the most human psychiatrist I could ever ask for, and I started ADHD medication. I went on a dozen visits to a chiropractor, and I'm slightly less caffeine-powered.

Monday after next, I'll have poll clerked 2 elections. I took 2 levels of de-escalation training from the City, an accessibility course funded by the provincial government, and an Indigenous affairs course funded by the feds. I've got sparkling work references, especially now..

I added accessibility and Indigenous affairs coursework to my MA in gender studies in attempt to out-compete internal and local candidates for jobs specifically in university accessibility and equity services offices. There are jobs I'm qualified for and would excel in at every university, but the scant likelihood of being interviewed is incredibly discouraging. I just completed these courses at the start of the month, and it's too soon to say whether the approach was effective.

I swivel between angst and serenity. I own nothing, I have no secrets or shame, and I'm just passing through. No roots, just wings. And I'm not alone living like this; the transient Torontonian is distinct urban archetype, and I have much to show for my untethered residency.

The time from December to now is the longest continuous mental health upswing of my entire life. I haven't been suicidal since I adopted the cats; they're my raison d'etre. But in December, it felt like I burned the last spec of bullshit out of my life. The combination of adequate income and healthcare works miracles!

I'm not afraid of what's next. I'm agitated by compounded uncertainty. I feel the end of what is, but I can't see its replacement. The job market will choose for me. The first/best path to permanent employment and sole occupancy will be followed. I can only hope that the path is paved with enthusiasm and not dread.

Nevertheless, I persist. 

 Casa Loma staircase from top view of downtown Toronto