Well, I've finally reached the great, wide North. The drive to Hamilton was a nightmare because we hit the border at an incredibly horrible time. The drive to North Bay from Hamilton was a pain in the ass because Hannah had to pee every hour and the 400 was congested as hell.

Be that as it may, I am here at my mom's house and relatively unscathed. I'll probably be heading out to a mall today to get a dress for T's wedding. My skin's clearing up again at an alarming rate; probably because the water quality here is so much better than in Normal and my skin can actually get clean. Quite honestly, the city of Normal has the shittiest water ever -- it's harder than teeth, what with all those calcium deposits that build up everywhere from that nasty-ass water. My shower is a testament to its impurity. Don't believe me, mm? If you're a Normal resident, take a freakin' gulp of shower water; I bet you won't even be capable of getting around the dusty, metallic taste to swallow it.

Not much going on otherwise. I need to work on "that script" today, probably finish it up good and proper so that Dan can slice and dice it and tell me how much I suck? I have to admit, though -- the closer I get to being done with this script, the less I respect it as a decent output from my brain. Maybe that's how I'm supposed to feel, but it just drives me to edit, and edit, and edit, and edit... when what I really need is just something new to work on and to be done with fucking Green County.

Cigarettes in Canada are expensive and nasty, and I have no money. I only brought up three Winstons to last me nine days. Looks like I'm probably quitting ferrealz? I got the tremors a little bit last night right before I fell asleep, and I've been eating waaaaaaaay too much just to satisfy the oral fixation. But it needs to be done, I've decided.

I had one of those weird fainting spells a couple weeks ago. I haven't had one in years, and the one that happened recently was probably triggered by something I'm not necessarily comfortable with discussing on something open to the wide world's eyes. It scared me a lot about my body, though. "Fainting" is kind of a mild term for what happens to me: all the blood rushes down from my head at the same time into my legs and it feels like I'm dying. Chrissy remarked that my latest "spell" resembled a seizure more than a dead faint, and when I came to, I just lied there in a daze and sweated out about three pounds (seriously, I have never sweat so much in one sitting in my entire life). It has me concerned that I may have suffered a mini-stroke, but I'm too much of a pussy to go to a doctor with my symptoms and have tests confirm that suspicion, so I just have to see to my health immediately. I have to quit smoking; something tells me I'm not going to be one of those lucky smokers who get to wither away in their sixties and seventies from cancer. I'm worried I'll be one of those "kicks off at 32 due to a heart attack" smokers. While I've never really believed that I'll die at an especially old age, I'd at least like to make it to 40. I'm nearly twenty-one and still feel so much like a kid.

Anyway, I have poor circulation and blood pressure that fluctuates from very low to moderately high on a dime. I can no longer afford to partake in the cancer sticks, or, as they will probably end up in my case, extremely painful and deadly stroke sticks.

Most people I know who smoke have even more reason to quit than I do. The effect on Chrissy's health has been staggering: she's got a cough that resembles her mother's now, and it's more of a "hacking up chunks of lung" cough than a "serious cold" cough. It would be good for her to quit, too, because, unlike most people, she could benefit from binge eating to stave off her cravings. Her legs, arms, and hands are looking positively skeletal lately. She appears to have lost weight since she last went to get her Depo shot and was bitched out by the nurse for being twenty pounds underweight. She's actually starting to look like a cigarette.

Hmm.

I found out recently that my cousin's reception is open bar. Sweetness. I will attempt to keep some dignity and not make a fool of myself... but I suppose I can only promise that the attempt will be made.

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