"Cautiously optimistic"?

Obviously my moods are somehow secretly linked to the North American economy. I read in Metro yesterday that the economic depression is over, according to the Bank of Canada at least. Apparently the Canadian economy in particular is expected to bounce back at twice the rate of the American one, though I have to say I have my suspicions about that given how closely intertwined they both are.

Similarly, in my tattered little life it does feel like improvement or at least change is around the corner. The main factor in this is the job I went for at the nearby Apple store at Danforth & Chester. The interview went very well from my perspective, and from buying things at the store I had already developed a good rapport with the woman working there. At the end of the interview I was asked to provide references, but I'm reluctant to perceive this as a good sign when I've been disappointed so many times since falling out of PR, or perhaps with PR. There was a time, somewhere in the murky past, that I'd be supremely confident by now but in this case all I really have is hope. I've done everything I can.

The point is that getting this job would finance not only groceries and all the usual 'bla bla bla' of life but also an escape. Living where I am was the perfect fit at the time I moved in. It was quick, convenient, and easy. Plus I was left alone, and put under no pressure to do, well, anything really. Thus it was a good place in which to convalesce. Now though, the feelings I'm having are similar to those I had in my second year of university (1995-6) when I shared a house with four other guys, of which two were definitely not housebroken. At least not to the standard that I would expect. More importantly, I have simply developed a hankering for my own place...or should I say a place to call my own.

It struck me that I've never lived alone. When I left home at the age of 20 I moved into accommodation supplied by the company I was working for at the time. It was a mezzanine apartment with three bedrooms over the high street of an affluent, West London town, and all the rooms were occupied for most of the two years I lived there. From there I went directly to university and had the usual 'halls of residence' experience plus two houses in my second and third year when I shared with others.

Following a brief stint back at my folks' house (because I was skint) I moved into South-East London and, again, shared a house with two others. After that I was pretty much co-habiting with the woman who later became my ex-wife.

Of course, I'd like to buy a place of my own but despite my parents' most generous bail-out last month I still have zero savings other than my RSP, which isn't enough to cover a deposit on a place. I will get some money from the divorce when it comes through in three or so months' time but this won't be enough either, so I'll be renting again for now. I know it'll be a studio apartment too. The furniture I have from the divorce is all physically massive - a sofa, a sofa bed, kitchen table and chairs, all of which take up lots of space. There's no point in opting for a one-bedroomed apartment because it effectively divides the total square footage in half, and would probably mean I'd have to construct a double-decker sofa somehow. My carpentry skills stretch only as far as assembling Ikea furniture so this isn't a practical possibility. Additionally, many studio apartments are basements so it's likely the ceiling will be pretty low.

It would be a shame if the only reward a house guest got for clambering up a step ladder to get to the top sofa was a dislodged vertebrae from cracking their head on the ceiling as they tried to sit down.

So while I am endeavouring not to count my chickens before they're hatched, all I can think about is the sheer joy of having my own little place. Somewhere I can walk around starkers if I feel like it. Where I can smoke weed indoors. Where, in the words of a journalist friend of mine, "You can get up and make scrambled eggs at four o'clock in the morning if you want to". A place where I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, and however I want.

I don't even like scrambled eggs, but I totally understand what she's saying. I do find that I cannot help but react to my housemate, and it seems that affectiveness will continue to be part of my personality rather than just my personality disorders. I tiptoe when he's in bed. I avoid the bathroom when I think he wants to use it. I feel guilty if he mentions doing his laundry and I still have my clothes in the machine. And, most important of all, he's not keen on me having people over, which is in direct opposition to one of the facets of my recovery plan. I crave company, and whilst I do find social 'en masse' situations draining on occasion, when it comes to close friends I love to have them over and - if possible - to cook for them. It would feel like strong, certain progression in an upward direction. It would make me feel empowered, more in control of my life, more independent, and less emotionally injured. Less like 'damaged goods'.

If I'm really lucky I'll either find a place that's completely soundproof, or has deaf neighbours who can't hear stonking house music at several decibels when I'm letting off a little steam.

But, like I say, I am cautiously optimistic. If I get my hopes up and then for some reason I don't get the job at the Apple store then I will have a much greater height to fall from emotionally. It's happened before, and I think not getting a job as a bike mechanic at MEC was the biggest disappointment. Never mind a 'slap in the face'. Jesus, what a comprehensive kick in the balls that was. It was as if I was tied down naked with my legs spreadeagled, as Arnold Schwarzenegger took a run-up at my cowering testicles after donning a pair of steel toe-capped boots. How can someone who's been racing bikes since 1986, has five years' retail management experience, and who could probably disassemble a bike blindfold not get that job? If nothing else, it makes it easier to understand why such cognitive distortions as, "There's a national conspiracy to ensure I commit suicide because I can't fend for myself" were so difficult to fight at the time.

I have to go. Obsessing about how I could have done the interview better or, more aptly, what reason the store will come up with for not giving me the job won't do me any good so I have ensured I have social plans to execute and lots on my to-do list. Hopefully, one of my next few posts will be about how I've managed to get my first regular stream of income since Interbrand last year...hopefully...