eff em ell

I recently moved into a house without an internet connection.

I signed a lease that will take me through to next May. I needed to make a commitment to being here, to not folding my hand and crawling home prematurely.

I like the house. I like the roommates. I adore the kitchen. But the internet thing? Not so much.

I steal it from the neighbours. In my more noble moments I feel guilty about it, but I have no other options.

No, you do not understand. I really have no other options.

The weak connections are sporadic at best. Sometimes I’ll hook onto a network that will give me five minutes of spotty internet access. Just enough time to check and write emails, but by the time I hit send the connection has dried up.

Other days I can get on for hours at a time, but by then the emails and updates have piled up and I can’t bear to face it all.

My laptop broke a few weeks before I left New Zealand. I would dearly love to hike down to the nearest Starbucks (or rather, Tim Horton’s) and sit with a coffee and donut while I browse the web at leisure, however because of its condition my laptop needs to be permanently plugged in to a large desktop monitor.

So, I don’t reply. I barely update. I am isolated and I miss the people who know me.

Also, there is no home phone.

No home phone, and no stable internet connection that will give me access to skype or similar.

My cellphone? I have no credit rating in this country yet, so cannot be approved for cellphone plans. I am on prepay. The phone I bought? Though I asked for a Sarnia number I was given something unfamiliar, something that – I’m told time and again when I give it out – is long distance. I didn’t know until it was too late.

I am charged exorbitant amounts to make calls. And to receive calls. I chew through my credit at an alarming pace, and I barely use the thing.

I called to see what my options were. I am not likely to have a credit history until about December, but even then it has been damaged by phone companies performing credit checks that have been denied due to the lack of history. Including companies that claim no credit checks are needed for a plan.

I cannot have my number changed to be local, because aside from my email address, it is the only contact information listed on my resume which has been distributed to hundreds of stores and companies and offices.

I recently stumbled upon – and became addicted to – a website, FML. Sometimes I think I should submit my last three months to it.

I have only leaked out depressing updates so far. This is unfortunate, but – here I shrug helplessly – accurate. These are all I have in me right now. I do not have pleasant news. I am struggling. I am at risk of drowning in sadness and disappointment. Every Monday-through-Friday feels uncomfortable, like a lifetime passes me by in a slow-motion flurry of failure and missed opportunities. I am utterly miserable (what a drastic pairing of words), and never before have I cried with such frequency and intensity. Not even close.

I can’t fold. I can’t, for reasons I am not brave enough to divulge publicly. I can’t go home yet. I have to see this through. But I have to admit that staying here is slowly killing my spirit.

I have no choice. The alternative is more unbearable than this, as incomprehensible as that is on a Monday.

It has been a long time since I have felt like myself. I used to know what I liked, what I wanted, where I stood, and what I could do. I used to be quietly confident, though shy (it’s a combination that works, I promise, despite its seeming contradiction). Now I find myself riddled with insecurities and choice anxiety, with doubts and fears whispering away at me even on the sunniest of days.

Michael brought to my attention that I’m four months out from my birthday. I feel like my life has stalled and is in the process of rolling backwards. I’m regressing in my worldly accomplishments. I have nothing to show for my (almost) 26 years. I work seven hours a week if I’m lucky, and I am broke. I have one friend in the vicinity, 100 miles away. On weekdays I am friendless and desperately lonely. I am homesick.

I’m sorry. I’ll cheer up soon, I promise.