Today I worked from ten till five, seven hours, and then got off. Sundays are tedious mornings--there is just a small brunch crowd that rushes at around two-thirty. I did my work, then talked to the chef about my cheque. It had seemed a little smaller than I had expected. I had thought I would be getting paid eight bucks an hour for the three weeks I had worked in cash in a big brown envelope, but instead I got a cheque in a white envelope with 'tristen' written where my name should have gone and only the first two weeks paid. I had been taxed too. Instead of the expected seven or eight hundred dollars I thought I was going to get in twenties, I got four hundred and forty something. Moops! I don't know if this is worth it. I am not planning on working for long, so the taxes will be useless when I claim them. I need the money in cash so I can buy a drum and a sax and save up for my trip west in the summer. I think I'm going to look for another job maybe in a kitchen as well, but I need to be paid cash. When I got off, I went to the park south of the ROM and smoked a bowl. I gazed around at all the trees and pigeons and squirrels. I played some hacky sack for a little kid. I looked at the sun's light on the buildings around the area and remembered travelling--like Toronto as a foreign city. I walked further than I had to for the subway, and i tried to take back ways. I felt at peace with the city for once in a long while. A nice day.
PEACE - Tristan
before || after
