Uxbridge Beckons (But it's desolate cry falls on deaf ears)

Uxbridge. Ugh. Ugh, I repeat. After four months of intrigue and interest at Redeemer, I've been transported to primitive Uxbridge. I feel like Dwayne stuck in Thalia. Except Uxbridge isn't a dying Texas town. Uxbridge is incessantly expanding, until it becomes some super-centre like Markham; yes, much worse than dying, Uxbridge could become a mecca. Though, mecca is usually associated with some great place; Uxbridge is not some great place. Plus, I need employment, but who desires to slave away at some abominable summer job!? Oh, Loney, Dears. Tomorrow, I will awake motivated and actively search out a distant summer position in Nunavut, or another territory. I will be boarded. Although, I've been informed, that positions such as these offer measly pay. The odds of this happening anyway are slimmer than anorexia personified. Okays; so after I research distant employment, I will print off resumes and hit up stores, and maybe they'll hire me. Though I doubt it, as I will probably demand high pay. I'm feeling very qualified today, and probably will tomorrow and qualified people deserve high pay. Employers typically don't embrace high payrolls, which is quite unfortunate for me. Anywhoers, I'll procure employment somehow, someway. Uxbridge won't be thaaaaat bad, for my friends are solid people. That's a pleasant rarity.