"You’ll be loved, you’ll be loved. Like you never have known. And the memories of me will seem more like bad dreams. Just a series of blurs like I never occurred. Someday you will be loved."

So week 2 of my internship at CityLine is underway, and it’s been going pretty well so far. I feel like I’ve been very fortunate to work alongside people who are genuinely nice and considerate. They don’t treat me like the crappy unpaid intern I am, which is nice because you never know what professionals in the industry are going to be like. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel working for free, if I’d dread everyday or what, but even though I’m doing the bitch work I love just being in the atmosphere and watching a live show come together daily. We also had Michael Buble on today, which normally I’m not a huge fan of but it was pretty exciting.

But the stress of not having any money is killing me, I only work at few hours a week at my part time job because the company are a bunch of cheap bastards who don’t believe in giving their employees more than 5 hours, and having to work with a 6’2’ psycho hose beast assistant manager. While being poor is definitely balls I think this is going to be a good summer. Dana’s back, Danko and I are going to see Incubus and Julia, my sister and others are making our annual trip to Ottawa for white water rafting. Also the best and most classic part of the summer, the August long weekend camping trip at Oro, so shanty but so classic and fun.

On the romantic side of things, it doesn’t appear this is going to be a summer for romance and me, which sucks but it’s not the end of the world…although sometimes it certainly feels that way. I keep waiting to meet someone new, I’ve been out of my last relationship for a very long time now and even though I didn’t think it would happen right away I thought that by now I would have moved on with someone else. It’s not a matter of lingering hopes or anything like that, the past is past and I’m completely aware of it, but still I sometimes miss that feeling of knowing that someone exists who thinks you’re worthwhile and as cliché and corny as it sounds, dying to talk to and see you. Perhaps what I’m describing doesn’t even exist anymore, I can’t even be sure but, if it does in any form, I guess I’ll keep waiting.